When a student of alchemy, who is new to the art, reaches that point in his studies where he begins to seriously contemplate the Great Work, one of the first questions that dawns on him might be … “how on earth do you discover the true path from amongst the fakes in the writings of the classic authors?”

This question is not at all easy to answer, but here I present a few pointers that might help you make the decision for yourself.

In trying to sort out the valuable information from the garbage belief, based on opinion or assumption, which does not take into consideration the knowledge that contemporary initiates possess, is most often way off the mark. Therefore the best place to start is to listen to the opinions of those who already had a lot of experience with lab alchemy. This might be considered a logical approach by some, but I have met many persons who claimed to have a serious interest in alchemy who were completely unaware of any initiated view of the art. Essentially such people are relying almost exclusively on guesswork derived from their personal reading of classic alchemical literature. Sometimes this is coupled with the claims of other individuals who also have no access to initiated knowledge.

The first thing that any experienced practitioner will make clear to a novice is that the literature of alchemy is extremely cryptic and will never be understood by someone who is not familiar with the methods of analogy, metaphor and encryption used by the alchemists of old.

Once the serious student manages to find some way of listening to, reading and talking to modern students of alchemy who have experience he might eventually become aware that there are varying opinions about what constitutes a ‘true’ or a ‘false’ path to the stone. This understanding dispels the often-held belief by the uninitiated that the search for the stone is a search for one secret recipe.

In general there are two mainstream areas of experiment in the Great Work that are investigated by modern students. Within these two general approaches there are various opinions about the details of practice. In fact there are so many opinions about the meaning of cryptic writings related to these two paths that it would be accurate to suggest that there are as many beliefs about meaning as there are students.

The two important things about this situation, where the eagerly searching novice is concerned, is that (1) every experienced researcher loves to insinuate (or openly insist) that his understanding is the definitive one, and (2) many students will change their opinion about what is accurate, based on new enticing evidence, more than once in their career.

These two points are really the core issues when trying to make head-or-tail out of the facts where the Great Work is concerned. How this situation came about is also helpful to understand.

The biggest producer of confusion where alchemical knowledge is concerned is without doubt the tradition of being cryptic about passing on information, even within the tight ranks of experienced students themselves. This kind of environment breeds assumption and unreliable guesswork. It also encourages individuals to pass off personal opinion as fact and the insinuation that more is understood than is possibly the case. The most frustrating behaviour that sometimes raises its head under these conditions is the temptation to outright lie or spread misinformation.

Individuals who thrive on inflating their self-importance gain a lot of satisfaction from these conditions because it is very easy to pass yourself off as something you are not. The problem is further exaggerated by the fact that many novices perpetuate the abuse of the tradition of secrecy by regularly reminding everyone that they believe the most credible alchemists are the ones who behave the most mysteriously.

Sometimes these abuses of a desire to adhere to the rule of secrecy are deliberate, but often they are carried off unintentionally. It happens that many students of alchemy, living and working in a state of relative information isolation, feel they are justified in arguing a particular point of view as being correct, unaware that at least some of the individuals they are talking to have already been down that particular avenue and know from experience that it is a dead end. In the meantime other individuals, unaware of the inaccuracy of the information, and possibly believing the source to be reliable, are waiting for their own opportunity to pass on what they believe is important, thus believing they are increasing their own standing in the alchemical community.

Many alchemists believe that this entire situation is a healthy one, because it makes the novices attempts at getting to the truth all that much harder. This, they feel, is a big part of the point in alchemy … the struggle to separate the garbage from the pearls of wisdom. Of course, it would seem, that those who encourage this immense confusion also believe they are already in possession of the actual facts about the Great Work. While there are those, aware of their relative ignorance, who like to be seen encouraging confusion, in the hope that someone who actually knows, will be impressed with their respect from traditional secrecy and will toss them some tid-bit of knowledge.

I have noticed over the years that much of the arrogance (or delusion) that arises from a belief that one possesses the key to the art is based in the idea that there is only one true recipe. This belief in turn arises from the concept that there is only one chemical, or one combination of chemicals, that possess the power of transmutation. The student who knowingly or unknowingly follows this ideology feels that the entire struggle in laboratory alchemy is the search for the identity of that substance, or combination of substances.

It is true that some classic authors have suggested this be the case. But this is not a universally claimed fact. It is also true that respected authors often insist that we should never take the words of the past masters literally. Nevertheless, many students of alchemy who are publicly vocal about their opinions as to what is correct and what isn’t, base their claims on an insinuation (or insistence) that their path is the only path. They do this in an environment where the active repression of information flow naturally excludes every researcher from knowing what his peers are up to. It is also often self evident that, since the demands of research into their own particular path often excludes them from having the time or resources to investigate other paths, they are largely ignorant, by choice, of other approaches.

So if this confusing unreliable situation really exists, why should I suggest that it is important, or at least helpful, to pay attention to the claims of contemporary experienced students?

I think the key to gaining some understanding of laboratory alchemy lies in the diversity of opinion, not in claims of exclusivity. There is no doubt in my mind at all that the concept that there is one true recipe with one true chemical, or combination of chemicals, is entirely false. I believe this to be the case firstly because even a basic reading of a wide range of alchemical texts would lead even the novice to see that more than one path is being discussed. Further, that amongst these various approaches many have claimed to have had success.

The important lesson is not, therefore, to be found in the differences anyone might recognise in the various claims, but in the similarities between approaches. What we are looking for is not one substance or one recipe but instead a condition in nature that can be found in many places or which can be brought about, in the laboratory, through any number of approaches, depending on the knowledge, imagination and skill of the artist.

So what is the solution to the problem of all of this deliberate or unintentional confusion? I think the solution is not an easy one to find. My first choice for advice is the easiest road to travel and that is to get involved, closely, with someone who has a long history of both experience in the lab and of observation, or better, interaction, with other experienced researchers. By ‘long history’ I suggest more than five years involvement with the mineral work. The benefit of such a relationship with an experienced student is that he might be in a position to offer some helpful advice about the opinions and history of his contemporaries. Such advice can be invaluable.

My second preference for advice is to either establish, or join, a private group of experienced researchers who, behind a veil of silence, are freely (or to some degree) openly sharing information about their research.

I have had the good fortune to be involved in both kinds of situation in the last 15 years and have, by far, found them to be the most productive in terms of learning. The least productive situation, on the other hand, which I have found, is listening to individual students, with whom no intimate exchange of information has been established, offering their opinions in public. I have found no value at all in that kind of communication, as it seems that the first rule of that game is to hide more than you reveal and to insinuate more than you know.