In my flight of fancy it also came to me that words, the tools of my trade, are like leaden molds into which thoughts are cast. Indeed, printers' type is traditionally made of lead which, like the letters themselves, can be melted down and reused. My own Moon and ascending sign, Cancer, rules containers while my Sun sign, Gemini, pertains to communications. No wonder I had spent my life pounding words into solid encasements for ideas. I was well back to earth now but still marveled at the extent to which purely objective astrological factors can delineate a person's subjective bent of mind.
Later, taking a bedtime bath I laughed at my ineffectual attempts to create a replica of that winged heart. The effort seemed as absurd as the scene in the current hit movie Close Encounters of the Third Kind in which a man whose mind has been imprinted by visitors from outer space maniacally insists upon replicating within the confines of his livingroom the contours of the mountain he must reach. Now I really understood that compulsion to scale the macrocosm down to microcosmic size and to superimpose an abstract archetype upon a specific human cell. It had seemed so desperately important to fit those glass beads into their proper places.
The warm water in which I was luxuriating was feeling extraordinarily good. Suddenly I sat up and exclaimed, "Eureka! Now I know how to leaven lead. You make it into stained glass so that the light can shine through."
Unquestionably I was becoming perfused with the spirit of alchemy. This development was particularly surprising because alchemy had never intrigued me. Yet when I first felt my guru's eyes irradiating the nether-regions of my psyche the words which had come were, "Ah yes, he is the old alchemist!"
My next ketamine session took me a few more steps along the same path. It began with a twenty-five-milligram dose which, since I had eaten well that day, produced a state that could better be described as a meditation than as a "trip." At the start I was looking at a picture of a mountain with a cave at the base. The usual buzzing sound was now reminiscent of a drill, impressing me with the idea that as esoteric anatomists it is our job to drill deep into the depths of the organic substance of the universe. All matter is carved out from within, not shaped from without. I had witnessed this peculiar process of inside-out creation in virtually every session but the idea had seemed too complex to verbalize.
For the first time I totally understood what occultists mean when they speak of the "deva" evolution. (Devas are said to be the spirits of the elements to whom is entrusted the work of building the forms of matter.) Briefly I was an elfin creature sitting in a circle with my fellow elves inside a mountain. Our bodies were made of flame and we were all of one mind. We knew exactly what we were meant to do and were happy to be instruments of nature's larger purposes. So ketamine was the bridge betwen the human and deva kingdoms! There would be much to ponder on in this respect, but at least I had broken through to a new level of comprehension. This realm of elemental essences was so alien to normal human thought processes that previously it had not been possible to describe my insights. It seemed to me, however, that having achieved this conscious realization it would subsequently be possible to tune in more sensitively upon the fairytale realm of sylphs, sprites, nymphs, gnomes, undines, salamandars and the like.
Often, in the deep state I would have the impression of being on the nose cone of a rocket hurtling through an aeonic pleroma, oscillating between subtle and dense states of being. This time I was burrowing into the most compacted layers of matter-like excavating tunnels in a mine. I was seeing the winding threads on a drill bit, and then the similarly shaped spiral indentations on a number of large and small screws. It appeared that each screw was geared to a different time cycle. Some were like the revolving second, minute and hour hands on the face of a clock. Others had threads that were days and years. Still others were consonant with the orbits of the planets. I wished that "screwing around" was a less pejorative term because that was exactly what was going on. Yes, the penetrative potency of those corkscrew patterns was reminiscent of the male element in nature, but as I was envisioning them there was no sexual connotation whatsoever. They were simply instruments of creation channeling the interior recesses of the space-time continuum.
Since I had leveled out and it didn't appear that I was going to get beyond those repetitious screws I took another twenty-five milligram dose and hung the mountain picture back on the wall. Quickly my mind began to brighten as though breaking through to an aerial region of pure mentation. Here it came to me that basically there are just two divinely revealed esoteric arts. One is astrology, whose earthly body is astronomy, and the other is alchemy, whose earthly body is chemistry. Astrology is of the nature of the Sun and alchemy is of the nature of the Moon. Like the rational and the irrational, the conscious and the unconscious or the left and right lobes of the brain they complement each other. As the female principle of nature receives its rightful due, so too will alchemy come into its own. To a large extent this true alchemy will be nurtured under the wing of the holistic healing movement.
The thoughts were throbbing faster now. Khem. Literally, that means "black earth." Because of the rich alluvial deposits left by the Nile River Egypt was called "the land of the black." I was glad that the name had remained even in the word chemistry. Alchemy has been called "the black art," not because of any association with evil, but rather because it has so long been shrouded in mystery.
"You were an astrologer. Now you must become an alchemist." These were my instructions and the idea was not pleasing. I loved the solar science of astrology and had devoted my life to it. What did I know of alchemy except that it was murky, involuted and almost totally misunderstood. Indeed, I had never even had a course in chemistry.
Intuitively I knew what alchemy was about, but had long since thrown up my hands at the thought of making it comprehensible to the public. To read about alchemy is like reading a cookbook, it can be meaningful only to the extent that one tries out the recipes. All the same, I now resolved that if I were permitted to pursue this line of research the goddess and I would write one more book which would be entitled The Alchemy of the Soul. It would be divided into three parts, arranged under the following headings:
1. The Serpent-transmutation
2. The Scarab-sublimation
3. The Phoenix-regeneration
These three processes would be associated with body, mind, and spirit respectively.
Since at this stage there was nothing I wanted to do less than embark upon yet another book I was becoming increasingly dissatisfied with the way this trip was going. "All right, then," I asked. "What about this business of transmuting lead into gold? We could certainly use some help along this line."
Ah, a new thought was coming. "It's the leaden people of this world, the Saturn-Capricorn types, who earn the gold as the rewards of their labors. Being so securely anchored on the material plane they can crystalize the light-energy of the celestial spheres into hard cash. Who wants a golden anchor when lead can so much better serve the purpose! Let them remain as they are.