After a long drive past the orchards of the
, I’m finally heading into the mountains, following the vague directions to the site of the gold mine. The sun is about to set on this evening in May 1997, as the little traveled road leads me around yet another formation of weathered rock. Then I see it on the hill to my right: mining equipment, sheds, heavy trucks, and a mobile home on the property. The gate is open, but the signs speak a clear language: “Private Property No Trespassing” and “Beware of the Dog”. I take a deep breath and point the nose of my passenger car up the hill, letting the car manage the sunken road in slow motion. An angry dog greets the unannounced intruder. The door of the mobile home flies open, and a red-haired woman barks at me: “What do you want?” Clearly not a moment for an elaborate introduction; “is this the place of the man who could teach me how to make white gold?” I manage to ask. The woman pauses for a moment and then disappears in the trailer.
An hour later or so, a new chapter in my life has begun. I have been accepted as an apprentice of the precious metals assayer. The fact that I’m the son of two geologists and have grown up with being force-fed the basics of mining, ores, the related chemistry and the talk of the trade may have helped. But the real test that the assayer put me through was entirely unexpected: After he had questioned my motives why I would want to learn practical alchemy, he reminded me that this knowledge comes with taking on a great deal of responsibility. Was I sincere and did I really understand what I was asking for? Eventually, he pulled out a glass jar, filled with a suspension of white gold. This was not the mild precipitate made from seawater, of which I had taken a few drops several times before. This was the ‘hottest gold’ he had ever made, pure, and manufactured by converting metallic gold to the monoatomic state, he indicated. He handed me a spoonful to take. A spoonful! I had experienced the mind-altering properties of the few drops of the seawater product, and now I was about to take the ‘hottest gold’ by the spoonful? Oh man! Did I really know what I was asking for? I mustered up the presence of mind to take the spoon and say a dedication or prayer over it, something like: “May my taking of this white gold be for the best of myself and everyone else who comes in contact with me” and downed the unknown substance. The already familiar feeling of warmth started to permeate my being, but there was something else. This stuff was alive. For the first time, I could perceive the magic presence of the Magister who had leaned back and simply observed me. He was apparently pleased with what he saw: “come back in three days. I will teach you”, he said. I was part of the club! I drove all the way home and arrived at my house in Packwood near
at around four in the morning, more alive and awake than ever. What a night!
It is not only my experience that once someone enters the field of alchemy, a sequence of unusual events starts to unfold, ranging from the bizarre to the humorous. Being a practical person, I’ve manufactured several dozens of kilograms of white gold since then, which were shipped to healers in
. The sale of the white gold has helped to finance my further research, the acquisition of literature, hundreds of experiments, and a steep learning curve. But the sale of white gold, and later my gem elixirs, has also brought about encounters that I would have liked to not have: I once received a visitor who was introduced as a fellow alchemist. I agreed to show him three processes, of which two did not work in his presence. Shortly after he had left, a friend of mine who makes her money as a mortgage broker and as a tarot reader called me, apparently highly concerned, and reported of a vision she had, seeing a man with a gun shooting me and blowing up my little lab. The description of the man was an exact match of the appearance of my visitor. I decided to hand the case to the Gods and let them take care of it. A few days later, one of my customers from
called in the middle of the night, greeting me with the words: “Thank God you’re still alive!” it turned out that customers of mine had attended a weekend seminar by Drunvalo in Hamburg, and one of them took some of my white gold to him for his evaluation. He confirmed that this was indeed the authentic white gold, but also told them that the alchemist had been shot and the lab had been blown up. Upon being given my name, he confirmed that he was indeed talking about me. Now, how do you explain this?
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