TENDING THE FIRE: THE ALCHEMY OF PSYCHOTHERAPY

by William A. Cesarotti

Submitted in partial fulfillment for the degree of

MASTER OF ARTS IN COUNSELING PSYCHOLOGY

Pacifica Graduate Institute 5 March 2011

UMI Number: 1492828

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2011 William A. Cesarotti All rights reserved

iii I certify that I have read this paper and that in my opinion it conforms to acceptable standards of scholarly presentation and is fully adequate, in scope and quality, as a product for the degree of Master of Arts in Counseling Psychology.

___________________________ Sukey Fontelieu, M.A., M.F.T. Faculty Advisor

On behalf of the thesis committee, I accept this paper as partial fulfillment of the requirements for Masters of Arts in Counseling Psychology.

___________________________ Allen Koehn, D.Min., M.F.T. Research Coordinator

On behalf of the Counseling Psychology program, I accept this paper as partial fulfillment of the requirements for Masters of Arts in Counseling Psychology.

______________________________ Wendy Davee, M.A., M.F.T. Chair, Counseling Psychology Program

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Abstract Tending the Fire: The Alchemy of Psychotherapy By William A. Cesarotti Carl Jung and other depth psychologists have written much about the application of alchemical imagery and metaphors to psychology; however, those images and metaphors were created not through discussion but by alchemists working in laboratories. This study documents the authors investigation of the psychological meaning of alchemical images and metaphors through his attempt to recreate traditional alchemical laboratory experiences. The research approach was a combination of Clark Moustakass heuristic method and Robert Romanyshyns alchemical hermeneutic method. Dialog was created between the authors experiences in the laboratory, insights gained from active imagination, readings from ancient alchemists and modern psychologists, and clinical experiences and is analyzed from a depth psychological orientation. Insights into the alchemical operations of mortificatio and solutio and the regulation of heat as metaphors for psychotherapy are presented along with clinical implications regarding the therapeutic alliance, initial stages of the therapeutic process, and the qualities of an effective therapist.

Dedication This work is dedicated to all my fellow alchemists, past and present, who have toiled in the heat of the laboratory and to my three sorores mystica: Sukey Fontelieu, Virginia Angel, and Chris Faulconer.

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Acknowledgements This thesis could not have been written without the incredible support, sincere encouragement, and amazing skill of my editor Jan Freya. Words cannot properly convey my deep gratitude to her for her assistance in this piece of soul work. Deep, heartfelt thanks go to my family, Rachel, Jeremy, Edie, and Miriam Gollub, for their constant love and support throughout this seemingly endless process. My work in the laboratory may have ended in disaster if not for finding Steve Kalec and his Alchemystica Yahoo group. Steves willingness to answer questions about the alchemical work and to share the results of his own work is unparalleled. I sing a song of gratitude and praise to Laughing Cloud and Singing Deer, for the amazing Vision Quest that helped me move out of albedo and toward rubedo. The presence of Allen Koehn can be found throughout these pages: in between the words, behind the scenes, and lingering at the boundaries. That presence is sometimes noticed, and sometimes overlooked, much like the dirt under your fingernails. This work consumed my life for more than 2 years. Everyone with whom I have interacted during that time has had some impact on this work. Many of them were notable in their support and encouragement throughout this process: Amanda Norcross, Deborah Keller, Evelyn Skon, Kris Lenz, Virginia Angel, Dan McDonald, Julie Snyder, Lindsey Noble, Jodie Burton, Linda Terrill, Deidra Little, Kate Perry, Chris St. Clair, Mindy Moffatt, and Tom Tucker. Thank you all, named and unnamed!

Table of Contents Chapter I Introduction..................................................................................................1 Researchers Interest in the Topic............................................................................2 Guiding Purpose of the Thesis.................................................................................5 Method .....................................................................................................................5 Overview of Chapters ............................................................................................10 Chapter II Literature Review.......................................................................................11 What is Alchemy?..................................................................................................11 What Use Is Alchemy for Psychology? .................................................................14 The Stages of Alchemy..........................................................................................17 Black: Nigredo .......................................................................................................17 The Operations of Alchemy...................................................................................21 Mortificatio ................................................................................................22 Solutio ........................................................................................................24 Models of the Stages of Psychotherapy .................................................................26 Meier and Boivins Seven-Phase Model....................................................27 Chaplins Feminist Model..........................................................................28 Prochaska, DiClemente, and Norcrosss Stages of Change Model ...........29 Correlating Alchemy With Psychotherapy ............................................................30 The Body in Psychotherapy ...................................................................................34 Gendlins Focusing ....................................................................................34 Woodmans Conscious Femininity............................................................35 Mindells Dreambody ................................................................................36 The Body in Alchemy............................................................................................37 Active Imagination.................................................................................................38 Chapter III In the Laboratory........................................................................................40 Introduction............................................................................................................40 Prelude: Masters of Fire.........................................................................................40 Invitation: Meeting the Senior Student ..................................................................55 The First Step: Mortificatio/Grinding....................................................................59 The Second Step: Solutio/Dissolving.....................................................................70 Other Operations....................................................................................................84 Summary ................................................................................................................84 Chapter IV Conclusions................................................................................................86 Conclusions............................................................................................................86 Summaries and Applications of the Metaphorical Findings..................................88 The Metaphor of Masters of Fire ...........................................................88 Mortificatio as Metaphor ...........................................................................89

viii Solutio as Metaphor ...................................................................................90 Suggestions for Further Research ..........................................................................91 Personal Reflections on the Process ......................................................................92 References..........................................................................................................................94

List of Figures Figure 1 Library and laboratory, or books and body..................................................1 Alchemical illustration. Source: Maier, M. (Ed.). (1988c). Tripus aureus. In A. Klossowski De Rola (Ed.), The golden game: Alchemical engravings of the seventeenth century (pp. 167182). London: Thames, p. 118. (Original work published 1618) Reprinted with permission Figure 2 Distillation of the Spirit of Wine using a small volume water bath...........42 Photograph of authors laboratory process. Source: Author. Figure 3 King and Queen together in the bath .........................................................45 Alchemical illustration. Source: Anonymous. (2003). Rosarium philosophorum: The rosary of the philosophers (P. Smith, Trans.). Edmonds, WA: Holmes, p. 26. (Original work published 1550) Reprinted with permission. Figure 4 King and Queen dissolving in bath............................................................46 Alchemical illustration. Source: Mylius, J. D. (1988b). Philosophia reformata. In A. Klossowski De Rola (Ed.), The golden game: Alchemical engravings of the seventeenth century (pp. 167-182). London: Thames, p. 174. (Original work published 1622) Reprinted with permission. Figure 5 King and Queen in the flask.......................................................................47 Alchemical illustration. Source: From Mylius, J. D. (1988a). Anatomia auri. In A. Klossowski De Rola (Ed.), The golden game: Alchemical engravings of the seventeenth century (pp. 198-207). London: Thames, p. 204. (Original work published 1628) Reprinted with permission. Figure 6 Rosemary in a large volume oil bath .........................................................53 Photograph of authors laboratory process. Source: Author. Figure 7 Rosemary in a medium volume sand bath. ................................................54 Photograph of authors laboratory process. Source: Author.

x Figure 8 Ascending and descending birds................................................................56 Alchemical illustration. Source: Lambsprinck. (1988). De lapide philosophico. In A. Klossowski De Rola (Ed.), The golden game: Alchemical engravings of the seventeenth century (pp. 105-116). London: Thames, p. 193. (Original work published 1625) Reprinted with permission. Figure 9. Ascending and descending vapor .......................................................................57 Alchemical illustration. Source: Maier, M. (1988b). Symbola aureae mensae. In A. Klossowski De Rola (Ed.), The golden game: Alchemical engravings of the seventeenth century (pp. 105-116). London: Thames, p. 110. (Original work published 1617) Reprinted with permission. Figure 10 Image of Mortificatio as the piercing of an egg.........................................61 Alchemical illustration. Source: Maier, M. (1988a). Atalanta fugiens. In A. Klossowski De Rola (Ed.), The golden game: Alchemical engravings of the seventeenth century (pp. 68-104). London: Thames, p. 75. (Original work published 1618) Reprinted with permission. Figure 11 Rosemary before grinding..........................................................................62 Photograph of authors laboratory process. Source: Author. Figure 12 Rosemary after grinding ............................................................................62 Photograph of authors laboratory process. Source: Author. Figure 13 King devoured by wolf and reborn from fire.............................................68 Alchemical illustration. Source: Maier, M. (1988a). Atalanta fugiens. In A. Klossowski De Rola (Ed.), The golden game: Alchemical engravings of the seventeenth century (pp. 68-104). London: Thames, p. 83. (Original work published 1618) Reprinted with permission. Figure 14 King dismembered and reborn from coffin ...............................................69 Alchemical illustration. Source: Maier, M. (1988a). Atalanta fugiens. In A. Klossowski De Rola (Ed.), The golden game: Alchemical engravings of the seventeenth century (pp. 68-104). London: Thames, p. 93. (Original work published 1618) Reprinted with permission.

xi Figure 15 Two fishes, Soul and Spirit, swimming in the sea of the Body .................71 Alchemical illustration. Source: Lambsprinck. (1988). De lapide philosophico. In A. Klossowski De Rola (Ed.), The golden game: Alchemical engravings of the seventeenth century (pp. 105-116). London: Thames, p. 189. (Original work published 1625) Reprinted with permission. Figure 16 Solutio: mortified (ground) rosemary soaked in water for three days .......75 Photograph of authors laboratory process. Source: Author. Figure 17 Mortified (ground) rosemary (left) and unmortified rosemary (right) in water.......................................................................................................78 Photograph of authors laboratory process. Source: Author.

List of Tables Table 1 Synthesis of Models of Psychotherapy and Stages and Operations of Alchemy ..............................................................................31

Chapter I Introduction

Figure 1. Library and laboratory, or books and body. From Tripus aureus, by Michael Maier, 1618. Reprinted in The Golden Game: Alchemical Engravings of the Seventeenth Century, by A. Klossowski De Rola (Ed.), 1988c, p. 118. Copyright 1988 by Thames. Reprinted with permission. The imagery and metaphors of alchemy have inspired many volumes of writing by psychologists (e.g., Edinger, 1994; Jung, 1944/1968b, 1946/1966, 1955/1970; Hillman, 1981a, 1981b, 1991, 1993, 1997a; Greene, 1988; Raff, 2000; Schwartz-Salant, 1998; Marlan, 2005; von Franz, 1980). According to Jung (1944/1968b), these inspiring images and metaphors were created by the alchemists when they projected unconscious contents onto the work they were doing in their laboratories. Much of the psychological

2 exploration of alchemy has been like the left side of Figure 1: a discussion of the imagery found in the alchemical books. This thesis focuses instead on the right side of Figure 1 and explores this imagery by attempting work and projections similar to those conducted by the ancient alchemists in their laboratories. Jungian analysts Marion Woodman (1985) and Arnold Mindell (1982), and professor and psychotherapist Eugene Gendlin (1978) found psychological gold by including the body in their practice of therapy. The intent here is to demonstrate that additional gold can be found by similarly including the body, the work in the laboratory, in the practice of psychological alchemy. Researchers Interest in the Topic The seed of this thesis was discovered when I uncovered a copy of Manfred Juniuss (1982/1985) work, Practical Handbook of Plant Alchemy, in a secondhand bookstore. Until that moment, I had assumed that the physical work of the alchemists had been lost to posterity; leaving generations of interested people to wonder at the mysterious images and texts they had left behind. In Juniuss writing, I found a clear, detailed description, by someone living in this century, of how to conduct physical alchemical processes derived from the old alchemical texts. The use of plants instead of minerals as the basis for the work was enticing because it did not require hazardous substances such as the strong acids or liquid mercury used by the ancient alchemists when working with metals and minerals. The techniques Junius used with plants were also within the scope of the chemistry lab work I had done during my undergraduate education. Despite the excitement the fantasy of conducting these experiments brought me, they required an investment in equipment and time I did not feel prepared to make. I therefore buried the seed of this project in the earth for safekeeping, and as the squirrel often does, forgot about it.

3 Years later, while attending Pacifica Graduate Institute, this forgotten seed received the moisture it needed to germinate. Studying the depth psychology founded by Carl G. Jung, I encountered his extensive work on the subject of alchemy as well as research and discussion on the subject by Marie von Franz (1980), Edward Edinger (1994), James Hillman (1980, 1981a, 1981b, 1991, 1993, 1997a), Jeffrey Raff (2000), and Stanton Marlan (2005). Wading through the sea of words on the psychological interpretations of alchemy, I sensed that something was missing. As Jung (1937/1968) asked, If the alchemist is admittedly using the chemical process only symbolically, then why does he work in a laboratory with crucibles and alembics? (p. 243). Why even use laboratory objects and processes symbolically, unless there was something about them that was important? If alchemists who worked in laboratories created these images and texts, what then might be learned now about the meaning of their images and words from also working in a laboratory? The seed had sprouted. That sprout might have withered in the dark of self-doubt, if not for a timely conversation with one of my instructors, Sukey Fontelieu. She provided the insightful light of the sun that the sprout needed to grow. With her encouragement, the sprout broke ground and began to take root. As it did, I felt more and more strongly called to do this work. Despite my efforts to explore a different thesis topic that I had originally planned to pursue, this work would not let me go. I felt that alchemy was calling me to go back to its roots in the laboratory. Robert Romanyshyn (2007) stated that in research with soul in mind the researcher is claimed by the work through his or her complexes (p. 62). As I explored doing physical alchemy, a parallel process developed in my personal therapy. My sessions began to focus on my own disconnect from my body. Throughout the process of

4 this thesis persistent themes arose regarding accepting my body, reconnecting with it, and learning to listen to it. The alchemist and physician Paracelsus (1658/1976) claimed that everything is divided into three, namely, into Salt, Sulphur, Mercury (Vol. 2, p. 317), and that Mercury is the spirit, Sulphur is the soul, and Salt is the body (Vol. 1, p. 125). As I was working to join the body with the soulful and spiritual discussions of psychological alchemy, this alchemy was working to rejoin my body, soul and spirit. Another aspect of research with soul in mind described by Romanyshyn (2007) is finding that ones work is already situated within a larger pattern (p. 83). When I had first looked into performing practical alchemy, I could find only two modern books on the subject: Juniuss (1982/1985) Practical Handbook of Plant Alchemy and Frater Albertuss (1974) The Alchemists Handbook, the most recent having been published over 20 years ago. While I was considering this as my thesis topic, four new books were published that contained instructions for doing practical alchemy: Brian Cotnoirs (2006) The Weiser Concise Guide to Alchemy, Mark Stavishs (2006) The Path of Alchemy: Energetic Healing and the World of Natural Magic, Rubellus Petrinuss (1997/2007) The Great Alchemical Work of Eirenaeus Philalethes, Nicholas Flamel and Basil Valentine, and Robert Bartletts (2007) Real Alchemy: A Primer of Practical Alchemy (2nd ed.). A new annual alchemy conference, the International Alchemy Conference (Alchemy Guild & Modern Mystery School, 2011), was established in 2007, with many programs focused on practical alchemy. In the midst of all this activity regarding practical alchemy, I felt like I was part of a wave, part of alchemys own efforts to bring the laboratory back to its study, to have its body remembered. I very much felt like I was in service to the unfinished business in the soul of the work (Romanyshyn, 2007, p. 83).

5 Guiding Purpose of the Thesis The guiding purpose of this thesis is to learn something about the process of psychotherapy by studying my experiences while doing physical alchemical operations. The words and images of alchemy have been used as signposts of the experience of psychotherapy (Edinger, 1994; Jung, 1946/1966; Raff, 2000); perhaps performing alchemy as an alchemist will reveal something about practicing psychotherapy as a psychotherapist. I believe this research will benefit the field of psychology in at least three ways: first, it may open up a new approach within depth psychology for studying psychological alchemy; second, as I am a beginning therapist, what I discover may make psychological alchemy more approachable to other beginning therapists; and third, applying alchemical ideas to the practical work of therapy may show therapists of all traditions that alchemical imagery can enrich their therapeutic understanding and experience. Method. Inspired by Jungian analyst Edward Edingers (1994) Anatomy of the Psyche, I desired to explore specific operations of alchemy in some detail. My intuition warned me that the operations should not be studied in isolation and that they should be experienced as part of an overall process that has a beginning and an end. With the source materials I had available, I decided to attempt the creation of a Plant Stone, a process analogous to the ancient alchemists goal of creating the Philosophers Stone (Anonymous, 1991; Junius, 1982/1985) but using plant material. I choose to make this Stone from the plant rosemary, for a number of reasons. First, Junius (1982/1985) recommended that one begin alchemical work with plants using either rosemary or peppermint, as they are both rich in essential oils. Researching these

6 plants, I found that in Shakespeares (1992) Hamlet, Ophelia said, Theres rosemary, thats for remembrance (4:5, line 199). Writing in 1653, botanist Nicholas Culpeper (1992) stated that rosemary quickens a weak memory (p. 47). Herbalist Scott Cunningham (1985) claimed, To receive knowledge or the answer to a question, burn rosemary on charcoal and smell its smoke (pp. 189-190). Organic gardener Jackie French (1993) claimed Greek students wore garlands of rosemary in their hair (p. 11). Using rosemary, the herb of remembrance (p. 6) for my research seemed an appropriate choice, because Romanyshyn (2007) described the process of research that keeps soul in mind as a work of an-amnesis, of un-forgetting and re-membering what has been lost (p. 121). Having selected the process and the plant, I chose to explore this material using the qualitative method of heuristic research. Psychology researcher Clark Moustakas (1990) stated, The focus in a heuristic quest is on recreation of the lived experience (p. 39). Although Junius (1982/1985) described the technical details for how to enact the operations I was to do, how was I to connect with the lived experience of the alchemists of 400 years ago? Both Junius and Cotnoir (2006) quote from the alchemical text Mutus Liber, written in 1677: Ora, lege, lege, lege, relege, labora et inviences (McLean, 1991, p. 42), which Cotnoir (2006) translated as Pray, read, read, read, reread, work, and you shall discover (p. 13). The first step of my efforts to recreate the lived experience of the alchemists was therefore to read their words, starting with a list of famous alchemists provided by Cotnoir: Paracelsus, Nicolas Flamel, Basil Valentine, and Michael Maier (p. 17). While reading Michael Maiers (1617/2002) Atalanta Fugiens, I was struck by the remarkable emblems he included in the text. Moustakas (1990) stated that heuristic

7 research is illuminated through careful descriptions, illustrations, metaphors, poetry, and other creative renderings (p. 42); therefore these emblems and the metaphors they depicted with such intricate and astonishing imagery would aid in my endeavors to recreate the lived experience of the ancient alchemists. This idea was corroborated by Jungian analyst Jeffrey Raff (2000), who claimed, Meditation on the symbols of the alchemists will not only bring us more deeply into the alchemical tradition, we will also stand a good chance of duplicating the experiences of the alchemists portrayed in our own psyche (p. 83). For a meditation method, Raff recommended the use of active imagination, which aligned with Jungs (1937/1968 [CW 12]) belief that active imagination was the thing that sets the process really going (p. 255 [para. 357]); therefore, the second step of my effort to recreate the lived experience of the alchemists was to conduct active imagination on alchemical emblems that I selected to represent each of the operations that I would enact. When I began conducting the physical operations, I noticed a wide variety of experiences in myself and in the material I was using. Jung (1937/1968 [CW 12]) described that the alchemists had certain psychic experiences which appeared to him as the particular behavior of the chemical process (p. 245 [para. 346]), which Jung believed were the projections of the alchemists unconscious onto the chemical process. He further believed that the real root of alchemy is to be sought . . . in the projections of individual investigators (p. 245 [para. 346]). To explore this to the fullest, during the operations, I imagined how the material itself might be experiencing the process; therefore, the third and fourth steps of my efforts to recreate the lived experiences of the alchemists were to conduct the physical operations and to be open to any and all experiences that I witnessed in the material or myself during the process.

8 As I proceeded with my quest to create the Plant Stone, I noticed experiences in my life outside the laboratory that were similar to the processes going on in the laboratory. Jung warned that as a result of the projection there is an unconscious identity between the psyche of the alchemist and the arcane substance (1937/1968, p. 267 [CW 12, para. 376]). The fifth step in my effort to recreate the lived experience of the alchemists was therefore to take notes on my experiences and general psychic state outside of the laboratory. After having my own experiences of the physical operations of alchemy, I immersed myself in the psychological literature on the operations of alchemy. I then incubated my lived experience of the physical operations with my lived experiences of psychotherapy and with various writings on the psychological interpretation of alchemy. I alternated periods of immersion and incubation in a rhythm not entirely under my control. During this process, I found that my experiences in the laboratory reminded me of the experiences of two psychotherapy clients with whom I had previously worked. Some information from their case histories, disguised to prevent identification, is included where it benefits the analysis of the alchemical operations. Eventually, this process led to my own synthesis of the meanings of these operations for psychotherapy. I subsequently found that the methodology I used for my research has several similarities to Romanyshyns (2007) alchemical hermeneutic method, which he described as being creative, open-ended, and supple and subject to change as the research progresses (p. 264). I found that I needed to be flexible and open-ended in order to develop my own methodology in service to the work. Alchemical hermeneutics is described as being imaginative, giving primacy to imaginal landscapes of soul (p. 264). I found the use of imagination to be a critical part of my methodology. Alchemical

9 hermeneutics uses a symbolic mode of understanding (p. 266), frequently through the use of active imagination, which was a central part of my methodology. As a method of an-amnesis, a method of un-forgetting (Romanyshyn, 2007, p. 270), alchemical hermeneutics involves looking backwards toward what is forgotten and asking to be remembered (p. 270). A major focus of my method was the attempt to unforget and remember the experiences of the ancient alchemists in their laboratories. Alchemical hermeneutics is also a method of re-creation or reiteration of unfinished events (p. 271) and Romanyshyn notes that in this process the researcher might find himself or herself accompanied by a guide (p. 271). In my practice of active imagination, I found a guide who accompanied me through this work. With all these similarities, the methodology I used could be considered a variation of Romanyshyns alchemical hermeneutic method. The methodology I used also parallels the three levels of certainty in Islamic gnosticism, as described by professor of Islamic Studies Henry Corbin (1998). According to Corbin, the first level is theoretical certainty, an example of this is hearing from someone else of fire, and what is it like (p. 164). The parallel in my method was reading the words of the alchemists about their operations. The second level is the certainty of eyewitness testimony, to see the fire oneself, and understand its nature personally (p. 164). The parallel in my method was performing the physical operations of alchemy myself. The third level is the certainty which is personally and gnostically lived and realized (p. 164), whereby one becomes the fire, or is consumed by the fire (p. 164). The parallel in my method was the way the work transformed me and the experiences I had during active imagination. For Corbin, the inclusion of all three levels is necessary to achieve the esoteric meanings in stories of visionary experiences. I therefore included all

10 three levels as a methodology for unveiling the visionary experiences of the alchemists as they worked in their laboratories. Overview of Chapters Chapter II presents a brief review of the literature that currently exists on the psychological interpretations of alchemy, the process of alchemy, the process of psychotherapy, and how the two relate. This review also includes discussion of active imagination and the use of the body in psychotherapy, as they were important aspects of my methodology. Chapter III presents a dialog that relates my experiences performing physical alchemical operations, my experiences from active imagination, my experience with clients in therapy, and existing psychological literature on alchemy. The understanding gained through bodily experience is compared and contrasted with the theoretical discussions, and where possible, a new synthesis is made. The actual process of trying to create a Plant Stone was very time-intensive and generated a large amount of data. Whereas my own experiences as a beginning therapist are primarily with the early stages of psychotherapy, I found my experiences of the early stages of the alchemical process to be the most profoundly revealing and have limited this discussion to those stages. Chapter IV briefly summarizes my discoveries, addresses their implications for the field of psychology, and proposes suggestions for further exploration and development.

Chapter II Literature Review The literature on alchemy is vast. By necessity, this work is focused on a restricted subset of the material available. A brief introduction to the history of alchemy and the meaning of some of its terms is provided to give context for the work that follows. In that context, the previous psychological interpretations of alchemy and alchemys relationship with psychotherapy are reviewed, with focus on the processes encountered in Chapter III. Lastly, the background on two important aspects of the methodology is reviewed regarding the inclusion of the body in psychotherapy and alchemy and the use of active imagination. What is Alchemy? The central concept in alchemy is transmutation: the fundamental change of one thing into another, from a grosser, impure state to a more refined, balanced, and pure state. This is to be understood on multiple levelsphysically, spiritually, and symbolically. Cotnoir, 2006, p. 11 Alchemy is a tradition of exploration into the processes of transformation and transmutation. Historian Jack Lindsay (1970) traced the etymology of the word alchemy to Arabic prefix al-, meaning the, and the Greek word chymia, meaning the art of casting or alloying metals (p. 68). His research found that alchemical thinking grew out of a nexus of ideas from metallurgy, brewing, dyeing, [and] perfume-making (p. 67) that began to emerge as a coherent body of thought in the work of Bolos-Democritus in about 200 BCE (p. 67). Alchemical thinking continued from Greek culture through

12 Islamic culture to Latin European culture, reaching a peak in the 16 and 17 centuries in
th th

Europe (Holmyard, 1990; Read, 1966) and persisting today (e.g, Bartlett, 2007; Cotnoir, 2006) The goal of alchemy was often characterized as the creation of the Philosophers Stone, with which alchemists believed they could transform impure metals, like lead, to the most pure of metals, gold (Holmyard, 1990, p. 15; Read, 1966, p. 118). Alchemist Albertus Magnus (1898/2003), for example, in the 13th century, wrote that through this art, corrupted metals in minerals are restored and the imperfect made perfect (p. 101), and in the 14th century, alchemist Petrus Bonus (1546/1974) wrote that Alchemy is the Art by which the principles, causes, activities, properties, and affections of metals are thoroughly apprehended; and by means of this knowledge those metals which are imperfect, incomplete, mixed, and corrupt, and therefore base, are transmuted into gold and silver. (pp. 100-101) The Stone is also described as a medicine, elixir, or tincture that can cure disease and provide immortality (Holmyard, 1990, p. 15; Read, 1966, p. 121). The alchemical physician Paracelsus (1678/1976 [Vol. 1]) described the goal thusly: the Tincture of the Philosophers is a Universal Medicine (p. 29) which consumes all diseases (p. 29) and by means of which the life of many, too, has been extended and prolonged to several centuries (p. 29). The process of creating the Philosophers Stone, Elixir, or Tincture was called the Great Work (Read, 1966, p. 130). Besides the outward or exoteric work of preparing the philosophers stone, historian Eric John Holmyard (1990) found that the alchemists also described an esoteric or mystical work. For those alchemists, the mundane transmutation of metals became merely symbolic of the transformation of sinful man into a perfect being (p. 16). Bonus (1546/1974) believed that the alchemists before him did not pursue the Art [of

13 Alchemy] for the sake of the acquisition of gold and silver, but on account of its beauty and the insight which it affords into the things of the spiritual world (p. 147). Holmyard (1990) found that these two kinds of alchemy were often inextricably mixed (p. 16), which Bonus explained, saying, If we call it spiritual we are right; if we describe it as corporal, we are not mistaken; if we style it heavenly, we do not lie; if we call it earthly we say the truth (p. 149). The historical alchemical writings used a rich array of metaphors, allegories, and symbolic images to express their theories, materials, and operations (Holmyard, 1990, p. 16). In the alchemical literature, one finds people, animals, and mythological beings such as lions, dragons, wolves, peacocks, crows, swans, phoenixes, toads, unicorns, serpents, kings, queens, lepers, Apollo, Diana, and Vulcan (Abraham, 2001; Klossowski de Rola, 1988). The actions depicted vary from cooking and washing to a lion devouring the sun and a dragon eating its own tail (Abraham, 2001; Klossowski de Rola, 1988). Conflict is frequently depicted in a wide range of forms such as two lions fighting, two eagles struggling, a knight versus a dragon, and a wolf devouring a king (Abraham, 2001; Klossowski de Rola, 1988). These images and metaphors have had an influence beyond the alchemists. Literary scholar Lyndy Abraham (2001), found that alchemical thought deeply influenced Elizabethan and Jacobean culture (p. xv) and that alchemical imagery is found in the work of writers and visual artists such as Shakespeare, Jonson, Donne, Marvell, Cleveland, Milton and Dryden (p. xv) as well as Pope, Goethe, Joseph Wright of Derby, . . . [and] the nineteenth-century Symbolists, Victor Hugo, Marcus Clarke, W. B. Yeats, August Strindberg, Antonin Artaud, Max Ernst, Paul Klee, Laurence Durrell, Ted Hughes, Vladimir Nabokov, Marguerite Yourcenar and Jackson Pollock (p. xvi). Professor of English literature Stanton Linden (2003) also found alchemical influences in

14 writers and artists from Chaucer, Erasmus, Bosch and Brueghel to Marcel Duchamp, Leonora Carrington, Umberto Eco, and J. K. Rowling (p. 19). What Use Is Alchemy for Psychology? In what way is the study of alchemy relevant for psychology? The founder of analytical psychology, Carl G. Jung (1961/1965) thought that analytical psychology was subject far more than any other science to the personal bias of the observer. The psychologist must depend therefore in the highest degree upon historical and literary parallels if he wishes to exclude at least the crudest errors in judgment (p. 200). Jung found the historical parallel he was looking for in alchemy. He believed that alchemical symbolism provided a point of view that was sufficiently outside humanitys current timeframe to provide objectivity to the conclusions. Jung found several more uses for alchemy. First, he discovered that some of the imagery in his clients dreams was identical to alchemical symbols (1944/1968b; 1955/1970, p. 77 [CW 14, para. 82]). Studying alchemy then provided more material for the amplification of the imagery in clients dreams (along with mythological and religious imagery). Second, Jung (1961/1965) claimed that it was by studying alchemy that he discovered the unconscious operating as a process that he would later call individuation (p. 209). Furthermore, because it is rare that a client will move through every stage of the individuation process with a therapist, by studying alchemical symbolism, a therapist has a map of the entire process, and can understand where a clients current work in therapy fits within the whole (1946/1966). Marie-Louise von Franz (1980), a colleague of Jungs, further elaborated on the use of alchemical symbolism for the amplification of unconscious material. The other bodies of symbolic material available, notably in mythology, fairy tales, and the history

15 of religions, have been passed down from within a tradition. Von Franz said that as these experiences, stories, and images were passed on, they were to a certain extent rationalized and purged of the scurrilities of the unconscious, the funny little details which the unconscious tags on (p. 16). They are therefore missing many of the details that come directly from the unconscious that are similar to the direct unconscious material of clients in psychoanalysis. She believed that the alchemists, in contrast, were exploring the unknown and interpreting their results without a set plan. They therefore recorded the unconscious contents that emerged in a more direct and unedited fashion, and consequently, they demonstrate the kind of contradictions and oddities that are seen in modern unconscious material. Because of its relative lack of editing by egoconsciousness, alchemical symbolism is closer to the unconscious material of modern dream material, and therefore is a more accurate source for amplification. The founder of archetypal psychology, James Hillman (1980), found a further benefit of alchemy for psychotherapy. He believed that the language of psychology was dangerously one-sided and full of abstract, imprecise terms that have been taken to exist literally. He found that these terms actually remove therapists from the direct experience of their clients, because they do not directly relate to or describe the clients experience. Hillman pointed out this problem regarding the terms the ego and the unconscious and stated, I have personally never met either of them, except in a psychology book (p. 121). In contrast, Hillman found that alchemy provides a concrete language that refers to actual things, but that do not have to be taken literally. Alchemy used as analogy provides a different way for therapists to imagine what is happening with their clients; it forces metaphor upon us (p. 124). One example is the imagery of the alchemical operations such as calcinatio, burn[ing] passions down to dry essences (p. 122), or

16 coagulatio, congealing cloudy conditions so as to get hard clear drops from them (p. 122), which describe psychic experiences in physical terms one can relate to while also retaining the poetic imagery that dreams use. Hillman believed that speaking in this kind of metaphorical language better served psychology than thinking or speaking in phrases like regressing in the service of the ego (p. 122), syntonic identifying (p. 122), and analyzing the transference (p. 122). Through metaphor, alchemical language joins the material and the psyche, it causes both the materialization of the psyche and the psychization of matter (p. 124). Jungian analyst Nathan Schwartz-Salant (1998), in his book, The Mystery of Human Relationship, described another way alchemy could benefit psychotherapy. He believed that when the methodology of alchemy is applied to the psychological process, a new model of analysis emerges (p. 7). He noted several benefits that he believed this new model provided to psychotherapy. First, it is a model based not on behavior modification or changes in object relations but on the recovery of soul (p. 7). Second, this model is remarkably embracing of those states of mind that are often called mad or psychotic (p. 17), and it respects chaotic mental states rather than pathologizing them. Third, this model is not primarily concerned with what people do to one another, such as through projections onto one another, but instead with their experience of a field both people occupy (p. 7). This model focuses upon the the nature of the third realm between people (p. 17), and on the relationship of the people involved to each other and to the field itself. Schwartz-Salant believed that this field has its own objective dynamics and that alchemy informs us of these dynamics in a way that far exceeds any other resource available to us (p. 25).

17 The Stages of Alchemy The stages of the alchemical process have been described many ways, but perhaps the most common was color. Beginning with the Greek alchemists, color was a sign of the properties of a substance, and later alchemists continued to use colors to recognize and signify when they had achieved the various stages of the opus (Lindsay, 1970). Although many colors are referenced in the alchemical literature, the four primary stages were distinguished as black (nigredo), white (albedo), yellow (citrinitas), and red (rubedo) (Jung, 1946/1966, p. 229 [CW 12, para. 333]). These stages, and their representative colors, were believed to occur in a specific sequence: It becomes, with wonderful appearances, blacker than the crow; afterwards, in succession of time, whiter than the swan; and at last, passing through a yellow colour, it turns out more red than any blood (Paracelsus, 1658/1976 [Vol. 1], pp. 27-28). The black stage was associated with a death of the old material and the separation of it into its component parts. The white stage was associated with a purification of the separated parts. The red stage was associated with a reuniting of the purified parts and a revivification of the whole (Abraham, 2001, pp. 4, 135, 174; Jung, 1937/1968, pp. 230-232 [CW 12, para. 334]). My experience as a beginning therapist is primarily with the beginning stages of therapy, and therefore this current work focuses on the first stage in alchemy: the black, or nigredo. Black: Nigredo The first stage of the work was signified by the color black, called melanosis by the Greek alchemists and nigredo by the Latin alchemists (Jung, 1937/1968, [CW 12]; Abraham, 2001). Abraham, in her book, A Dictionary of Alchemical Imagery, summarized the nigredo stage as

18 the initial, black stage of the opus alchymicum in which the body of the impure metal, the matter for the Stone, or the old outmoded state of being is killed, putrefied and dissolved into the original substance of creation, the prima materia, in order that it may be renovated and reborn in a new form. (p. 135) This death (in alchemical terms, mortificatio) might be brought about in many ways, including heating or burning (decoction or calcinatio), rotting (putrefactio), and dissolving into a liquid (solutio) (Flamel, 1612/1994; Paracelsus, 1658/1976; Philalethes, 1678/1999), and frequently involved a combination of these processes. Many alchemists described the purpose of this first stage as the separation (separatio) of the material into either the four elements (fire, air, earth, and water), or the three philosophical essences (sulphur, mercury, and salt) (Albertus 1974; Anonymous, 1991; Bartlett, 2007; Calid, 1541/1992; Cotnoir, 2006; Junius, 1982/1985). Skeletons, skulls, black birds, and images of dead or dying beings were common symbols of this stage (Abraham, 2001). The alchemists did not see the nigredo as a default initial condition, but as a stage that needed to be achieved to begin the opus. Michael Maier (1917/2002) stated, Rejoice when you see your matter getting black, for that is the beginning of the work, and it is the key without which there is nothing (p. 120). Artephius (1612/1994) claimed, He that doth not make blacke, cannot make white, because blackenesse is the beginning (p. 73). The alchemists warned that achieving the nigredo was neither an easy processthe first is black, which is more difficult to bring about than the rest (Lacinus, 1546/1974, p. 23)nor a short process: It is of all colours the most tardy in making its appearance (Philalethes, 1678/1999, p. 258). Some authors, such as Eirenaeus Philalethes, claimed that it would take as much as 40 days or six weeks to achieve (p. 259). Jung (1944/1968 [CW 12]) believed that, in psychological terms, the nigredo stage of alchemy represented the ego encountering the shadow (p. 36 [para. 41). The term

19 shadow, as used here, is defined as the hidden or unconscious aspects of oneself, both good and bad, which the ego has either repressed or never recognized (Sharp, 1991, p. 123). Jung 1937/1966 [CW 12]) believed that when the conscious mind attempted to come to terms with the unconscious, it would be swallowed up by it (pp. 416-417 [para. 496]), and he further described the experiences of nigredo as confusion, lostness, melancholy, fear, wickedness, and wretchedness (1955/1970, p. 229 [CW 14, para. 306]), grief (1937/1968, p. 273 [CW 12, para. 389]) brought about deformation and psychic suffering (1955/1970, p. 354 [CW 14, para. 494]). Jung observed confrontation with the shadow produces at first a dead balance, a standstill that hampers moral decisions and makes convictions ineffective or even impossible (p. 497 [para. 708]). He described the death that occurs during this stage as the complete stagnation of psychic life (1946/1966, p. 260 [CW 16, para. 469]). Jungian analyst Marie-Louise von Franz (1980) assisted Jung in his alchemical explorations and developed them further. She also described the experience of the nigredo stage as confusion, depression, unhappiness, and being covered in a dark cloud of unconsciousness (p. 208). She further found that during the nigredo, a clients dreams were frequently critical, involving depressing motifs, destructive factors, shadowy impulses, and imagery the client found disgusting, indecent, or obscene (p. 147). Von Franz also described the nigredo as a state wherein ones instinctual drives are fallen into matter (p. 221) by being projected outwards onto other people. Hillman has explored the color imagery of alchemy in several articles (1981a, 1981b, 1991, 1997a). In his exploration of black as related to the nigredo stage of alchemy, he also found this stage characterized by experiences of feeling exhausted, dried out, stuck (1997a, p. 46), depressed, confused, constricted, anguished, and subject

20 to pessimistic, even paranoid, thoughts of sickness, failure, and death (p. 46). For Hillman, these experiences are not symptoms to progress away from, but are signs that ones soul has achieved the first stage of the opus. He saw this achievement as the dissolution of ones fixed paradigm, of ones attachments to whatever has been taken as truth and reality, solid fact, or dogmatic virtue (p. 49), even of ones sense of meaning and the hope for meaning (p. 47). It is exactly this place of doubt, confusion, and unknowing that Hillman believed was necessary for any paradigm shift to occur. Hillman (1993) also saw the blackness as corresponding to the reductive work of psychological examination (p. 244). In this work, the mind seeks explanations, especially those that search out origins and causal explanations which are concrete, material, historical, and fateful (p. 244). These explanations may lead to remorse, selfpunishment, and depression, and Hillman warns that this kind of literal and reductive approach can generate the kind of concrete fixations that are meant to be dissolved in the nigredo. Jungian analyst Robert Bosnak (1986/1988) explored alchemical imagery in his work with dreams. He offered an evocative description of the experience of nigredo: One feels as though the whole world is falling apartand especially that this nigredo state will never pass away. The future is dark and confused. It seems as though the feeling of emptiness and isolation will last forever. The tempo of life in the midst of this rotting is sluggish. All energy drains out of consciousness. In this bottomless pit one finds death, death as the only reality. (p. 63) Bosnak saw the nigredo as a stage wherein the old way of being has broken down and no longer works. The processes that lead to this stage have freed stuck psychic material by shattering it into its component parts. They free one from the fixations in which one had been bogged down. Bosnak believed that despite the melancholy and depression common

21 to this state of disintegration and decomposition, it is from this black place that the creative power once again has free play (p. 63). The Operations of Alchemy Unlike the stages of alchemy, about which most alchemists agree on the number and terminology, when it comes to the operations of alchemy, alchemists disagree on both the number of critical operations, and which operations those were. Johann Daniel Mylius (1622/1984) named as many as 12 operations (p. 21), Philalethes (1678/1999) named 10 (p. 261); Bonus (1546/1974) named eight (p. 88); Paracelsus (1658/1976 [Vol. I]) named seven (p. 151); and Calid (1541/1992) as few as four operations (p. 31). Even Jungian analysts choose different number of operations: for instance, Edinger (1994) chose seven, and Jungian analyst Liz Greene (1988) chose four. Perhaps because of this disagreement, the alchemists wrote more about the operations of alchemy than any other topic, including the goal of the Philosophers Stone (Linden, 2003, p. 17). Defining what the alchemists meant when they discussed the operations is complicated by the fact that they used the terms for these operations to refer to different things. On one hand, they use terms to refer to actual physical operations in the laboratory; however, the terms usually refer to the result of the operation, not necessarily the mechanism. Solutio, for instance, refers to changing something into a liquid form, but that could be a process of dissolving the substance in water or melting it with heat. In addition, the terms are also used to refer to a process or result that is not necessarily physical: for instance, distilling or sublimation also refers to purifying a substance: separating its pure elements from its impure elements. Edinger (1994) captured this multiplicity of meanings artfully in his diagrams that map all the symbols that are connected to the terms he studied (pp. 16, 46, 82, 116, 146, 182, 210). In the sections that

22 follow, the meaning of these terms is discussed from both the alchemical viewpoint and the psychological one. This discussion is limited to the first two operations I conducted during the nigredo stage, mortificatio and solutio. Mortificatio. In alchemy, mortificatio is the death of the matter being worked upon (Abraham, 2001, p. 130). According to Paracelsus (1658/1976 [Vol. 1]), the death or mortification of the metals is the removal of their bodily structure, and of the sulphurous fatness (p. 139). This death could be brought about in many ways. For Flamel (1612/1994), this death occurred by dissolving in water: This dissolution is by the envious Philosophers called Death, Destruction, and Perdition, because that the natures change their forme, and from hence proceeded so many Allegories of dead men, tombes and sepulchers (p. 29). Paracelsus (1658/1976 [Vol. 1]) described the mortificatio occurring through such processes as intense fire, dissolving substances, application of sulphur or salt, and distilling or sublimating. The goal and importance of this death was described metaphorically by Mylius (1622/1984): Unless a grain of corn falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone by itself; if, however, it dies, it produces much fruit (p. 49). His words are a paraphrasing of Christs statement that was often quoted by the alchemists. Flamel (1612/1994) explicitly associated the mortifcatio with the black stage of the work and described it as the blacke saile with which the Ship of Theseus came back victorious from Crete, which was the cause of the death of his Father (p. 28); he further described the goal, saying so must this father die, to the intent, that from the ashes of this Phoenix another may spring, and that the sonne may bee King (p. 28). Dying kings frequently appear in alchemical imagery (Abraham, 2001; Klossowski de Rola, 1988;

23 Maier, 1617/2002). The mortifcatio is the destruction of the existing structure, form, and/or nature of the matter, such that something new may come into being. Among modern authors, Edinger (1994), in his book, Anatomy of the Psyche, has done the most work to describe the operations of alchemy in psychological terms. For Edinger, the alchemical images of a king, lion, or sun dying, represented the psychological experience of the death of the ruling principle of the conscious ego (p. 151). Edinger described how this is experienced as defeat and failure, usually imposed by life, either from within or from without (p. 172). The way ego consciousness has been ruling ones life has led to failure and defeat. Mortification, he said, involves admitting that the way one has been doing things may not be working. The importance of this process as related to analysis is described by Edinger: The fixed, static aspects of the personality allow for no change. They are established and sure of their rightness. For transformation to proceed, these fixed aspects must first be dissolved or reduced to prima materia. This is done by the analytic process, which examines the products of the unconscious and puts the established ego attitudes into question. (pp. 47-48) In discussing the mortificatio, Jung (1946/1966 [CW 16]) stated, At all events the integration of contents that were always unconscious and projected involves a serious lesion of the ego. Alchemy expresses this through symbols of death (p. 264 [para. 472]). Jung further described this death as the total extinction of consciousness and the complete stagnation of psychic life (p. 260 [para. 469]) and said that it signifies the overcoming of the old and obsolete (1955/1970, p. 142 [CW 14, para. 169]). Hillman (1981a) described the mortificatio as a time of symptoms (p. 35). It is a time of feeling driven, trapped, pulled along by inertia, and locked compulsively in behavior (p. 35). It is a time of going back and down into the dark pathologized deeps of the soul (1993, p. 244). Hillman believed that this material must be wholly killed,

24 ground down, all the inner cohesion broken, until the usual emotional responses are no longer effective (p. 244). Solutio. On the surface, the alchemical operation of solutio refers to the relatively simple process of converting a hard matter and dry earth to a liquid substance (Mylius, 1622/1984, p. 31). This process could be done with heat, as melting or liquation, or by cold and moisture, as dissolution (Rulandus, 1612/n.d.). Calid (1541/1992) described solutio in this way: Subtiliate the bodie till all become water (p. 36). Mylius (1622/1984) provided a more detailed description of this subtiliating process as breaking substances up (p. 12), a loosening of bonds (p. 33), and thinning of thickness (p. 31). Martin Rulandus (1612/n.d.) defined dissolution differently than solutio: By this term the Chemical Philosophers do not understand the reduction of a solid body into a liquid state, but the reduction of a body into its first matterthat is to say, into those elementary principles which are its ultimate constituents. (p. 357) Many alchemists, however, saw dissolution and solutio as the same thing, believing that the watery result of breaking up and dissolving the substance was its first matter (also called prima materia) (Abraham, 2001). Hortulanus (1556/1992) focused on the separation of the partes (p. 22) in his definition of dissolution. The alchemists also described solutio in terms of subtler processes. Magnus (1541/2003) said that solutio was devised so that the intrinsic qualities of substances might become extrinisic and vice versa (p. 108). Similarly, Calid (1541/1992) said that solutio extracteth the inward parts of things unto their Superficies (p. 44). Mylius (1622/1984) found solutio to be the revelation of the hidden (p. 31) and a stirring up of innate abilities (p. 33). To summarize, the alchemists saw solutio as a melting or dissolving process that broke up a substance into a watery state, sometimes called the

25 prima materia; this watery state was seen as a matrix of the elementary parts of the substance that revealed previously hidden, interior qualities of the substance. Jung (1946/1966 [CW 16]) described the psychological experience of the solutio as the descent of the ego into the unconscious. Edinger (1994) elaborated on that definition to describe the descent of the ego into something larger than itself, whether internally, through a descent into the unconscious, or externally, through descent into an expanded consciousness. He described the effects of this descent as a dissolving of the rigid, static parts of the ego personality. Sometimes this dissolution is experienced as a dissolving into something else larger, and then there is a sense of being contained and held by the other. Whether or not this descent is pleasant for the ego depends on its state of development, as Edinger described: An immature ego may find it pleasant to surrender to containment in a blissful regression; however, at a later stage of development the prospect of solutio will generate great anxiety because the hard-won state of ego autonomy is being threatened with dissolution. (p. 49) Edinger provided several examples of agents that can bring about a solutio experience: love, lust, a more comprehensive viewpoint, a group collective, or a swollen egos own excesses. He explained how this experience occurs in therapy: In the process of psychotherapy it usually happens that the ego of the patient encounters in the therapist a more comprehensive standpoint, which has a dissolving effect. This happening often leads to a partial state of containment of the patient by the therapist and is a common cause of the transference. (p. 57) He noted that this is not just a dissolving experience for the client but that the therapist also must submit to the solutio. Greene (1988) defined the solutio as an experience of the boundaries of the ego breaking down (p. 288) and described what this is like for the experiencer: Ones sense of boundaries begins to dissolve, and there is sometimes a feeling of a missing layer of

26 psychic skin. One is suddenly very vulnerable and permeable, and feelings come up which threaten to swamp the rational ego (p. 289). Greene called this an experience of surrender, in which one must submit to that which is greater . . . [which] requires a relinquishing of control (pp. 299-300). For some this surrender results in beautiful, blissful feelings of union. For others it can bring frightening, shameful feelings of helplessness, impotency, and dependency, because the dissolving of the boundaries of the ego is brought about when the ocean of the collective unconscious (p. 290) floods them. Hillman (1993) described the psychological experience of solutio as flood[ing] the solid, fixed aspects of the matter or issue with emotions until it is . . . permeated . . . so thoroughly that it loses all definition and distinction. Everything becomes an equalized homogeneity (p. 252). For Hillman this flood of emotion brings consistency, sameness and a homogenous emotional world that is self-same all through, no compartments, no divisions, no internal oppositions (p. 252). In the emotional world of the solutio there are no distinctions, degrees of valuations (p. 252), or differentiations. For Hillman, the facility of discrimination itself dissolves in the solutio. Models of the Stages of Psychotherapy To compare the stages and operations of alchemy to those of psychotherapy, it is necessary to use a model of the stages and operations of psychotherapy. Psychotherapist John Rowan (2001), in his discussion of alchemy in psychotherapy, has used two different models of psychotherapeutic stages for comparison: one developed by feminist counselor Jocelyn Chaplin (1988) and one developed by clinical psychologist and professor Emeritus of Human Sciences Augustine Meier and clinical psychologist Micheline Boivin (2000). While conducting my own comparison, I found the Stages of

27 Change model developed by professors of psychology James Prochaska, Carlo DiClemente, and John Norcross (1992) to be useful, as it included stages not included in the other two models. Meier and Boivins Seven-Phase model. Augustine Meier and Micheline Boivin (2000) derived a model of the stages of psychotherapy from a qualitative analysis of the case notes from over 20 clients who were seen in either short-term or long-term psychotherapy and presented with issues such as depression, anxiety disorders, and some forms of personality disorders. They began work on their model in 1983, and various investigations since have provided substantial data that indicate their model is a reliable and valid research instrument. Their analysis derived seven phases or stages in the psychotherapy process: 1. Problem definition: The client presents and discloses personal and/or interpersonal difficulties, concerns, feelings, etc. . . . [and] psychotherapy goals are established (p. 60). 2. Exploration: The client, with the help of the therapist, uncovers the dynamics of the problem in terms of its etiology and maintenance with reference to affective, cognitive, motivational, and behavioral constituents (p. 60). 3. Awareness/insight: The client has a better understanding of how unexpressed feelings, inappropriate cognitions, unfulfilled needs and wants, and lost meanings are related to the present problem (p. 60). 4. Commitment/decision: The client implicitly or explicitly expresses a determination to change behaviors, manner of relating, perspectives, and assumes responsibility for the direction of his/her life (p. 60).

28

5. Experimentation/action: The client responds, relates, feels, behaves, and thinks in new and different ways in accordance with the new perspective (p. 60). 6. Integration/consolidation: The client makes his/her own and solidifies those new actions, feelings, perceptions, etc. which are consistent with her/his new sense of self (p. 60). 7. Termination: The client, having achieved the counseling goals, prepares to live without the support of therapy sessions (p. 60). Meier and Boivin saw these seven phases as representing a progressive forward movement toward achieving greater selfhood. Chaplins feminist model. Based on her many years of counseling experience, feminist counselor Jocelyn Chaplin (1988) developed a seven-phase model of the counseling cycle: 1. Getting started and building trust: providing unconditional acceptance of the client, letting the client be, and providing a safe environment that holds and contains the client. 2. Identifying themes, separating out the Opposites: identifying patterns in the clients behavior and thinking (p. 44), and once the themes are identified, exploring them to identify the major opposites within the themes and patterns of opposing behaviors related to the themes. 3. Exploring the past, understanding the opposites and inner hierarchies: looking for the causes of [the clients] present-day splits and problems in the distant or recent past (p. 56).

29

4. Dissolving the inner hierarchies and facing ambivalence, accepting the opposites: dissolving the hierarchical relationship of superior and inferior while keeping a clear awareness and appreciation of the differences between the opposite sides (p. 71) by accepting those rejected opposites as part of ourselves (p. 71) and owning the parts projected on to others. 5. Making changes, living with the opposites: the client expressing the newly accepted parts (p. 87) of himself or herself and learning to incorporate them into . . . everyday life (p. 87). 6. Assertiveness training, expressing the opposites: the therapist working with the client on a way of communicating his or her needs clearly to others and asking for some concrete change that may then be negotiated (p. 98). 7. Endings and new beginnings: Dealing with the parting of the counselor and client, facing the losses involved in the termination of the therapeutic relationship, and accepting the gains made up to that point. Although Chaplin presented these phases in a linear order, she found that clients rarely move in straight progression through each phase and that different elements of each phase may recur in later phases (p. 1). Prochaska, DiClemente, and Norcrosss Stages of Change model. In 1982, professors of psychology James Prochaska, Carlo DiClemente, and John Norcross (1992) conducted research with smokers attempting to quit smoking on their own and in professional treatment. In the smokers process of quitting, they identified phases that have since been refined and expanded into the Stages of Change model, which includes five stages: precontemplation, contemplation, preparation, action, and maintenance. The

30 first stage, precontemplation, is characterized by no intention to change behavior in the foreseeable future (p. 1103). The second stage, contemplation, occurs when people are aware that a problem exists and are seriously thinking about overcoming it but have not yet made a commitment to take action (p. 1103). To qualify for the contemplation stage, one is considering taking action within the next 6 months. In the third stage, preparation, individuals are intending to take action in the next month and have unsuccessfully take action in the past year (p. 1104). The fourth stage, action, occurs when individuals modify their behavior, experiences, or environment in order to overcome their problems (p. 1104). In the fifth and final stage, maintenance, individuals work to prevent relapse and consolidate the gains attained during action (p. 1104). The transition from action to maintenance occurs after more than 6 months of the continued use of the new behaviors begun in the Action stage. Prochaska et al. further discovered that during each of these stages different processes and styles of therapy tend to be more effective. Prochaska et al. (1992) originally conceived of the process of change as a linear progression through each of the stages in order. In practice, however, they discovered that linear progression is rare and that a spiral pattern is more typical. In the spiral pattern, an individual in the maintenance stage relapses; returns to either the precontemplation, contemplation, or preparation stages of the process; and begins working anew from that stage. They found that with each cycle through the stages of change, the individual potentially learns from the process, trying new approaches and behaviors and enabling a progressive spiral motion instead of endlessly repeating the same circles. Correlating Alchemy With Psychotherapy Independent consultant John Rowan (2001) synthesized two models of the stages of psychotherapy with the stages and operations of alchemy (see Table 1). He combined

31 Meier and Boivins (2000) Seven-Phase Model, Chaplins (1988) Feminist Model, and descriptions of the alchemical stages and operations from Edinger (1985), Greene (1988), and Andrew Samuels (1989) to create an 11-phase model of therapy as an alchemical process. Table 1 Synthesis of Models of Psychotherapy and Stages and Operations of Alchemy. Stages from Meier and Boivins seven-phase model of psychotherapy Problem Definition Exploration Stages of Chaplins feminist model of Alchemical stages psychotherapy and operations Getting started and building trust Identifying themes Exploring the past Dissolving the inner hierarchies Making changes Materia prima and nigredo Fermentatio

Rowans 11 Phases of Psychotherapy Phase 1 Phase 2

Phase 3 Phase 4

Exploration Awareness/Insight

Separatio Calcinatio

Phase 5 Phase 6

Commitment/Decision

Albedo Conjunctio

Experimentation/action Expressing the and integration/ opposites consolidation Termination Endings and new beginnings Identifying themes

Phase 7

Mortificatio and a second nigredo Solutio Coagulatio Sublimatio Rubedo

Phase 8 Phase 9 Phase 10 Phase 11

Problem definition Exploration

Note. Table created by author based on Therapy as an alchemical process, by J. Rowan, 2001, International Journal of Psychology, 6(3), 273-288.

32 Regarding phase one, Rowan (2001) found that the materia prima represents the set of symptoms that drives the client to therapy, such as being beset by affects, compulsions, irrational eruptions of any kind (p. 275). He also found that descriptions of the nigredo stagesuch as frustration, bewilderment, disintegration, chaos, uncertainty, and things getting worse before they get betterfit this first phase of the therapy process. He said that in the second phase, the mingling of personalities that takes place in the transference and countertransference (p. 277) and the meeting of the clients conscious and unconscious is equivalent to the brewing and mingling of fermentatio that produces a new substance. Rowan (2001) described the third phase of psychotherapy as involving exploration of internal conflicts, discoveries about the nonunified nature of the psyche, and efforts to separate the unconscious from the conscious. He compared this phase to the alchemical operation of separatio. He connected the fourth phase of psychotherapy with the alchemical operation of calcinatio, because he found that the discomfort the client feels dealing with the conflicting feelings about themselves and the therapist that occur during this phase fit the uncomfortably hot, burning nature of calcinatio. He further found that a notable reduction in the original presenting symptoms occurs as some of the Prima Materia has been consumed in the flames (p. 281). Rowan (2001) identified the fifth phase of the process of therapy with the alchemical stage of albedo. In this phase of realization, real change has taken place (p. 281) and the therapy begins to have effects in the outside world. He likened the sixth phase of psychotherapy to the alchemical operation of conjunctio because he found that the alchemical union of opposites that occurs in conjunctio was a good description of the phase in therapy that is about relating to real people in the real world in a more adequate

33 way (p. 283) and connecting with other people in a more whole-hearted fashion (p. 282). Rowan (2001) stated that the seventh phase of therapy connects with the alchemical operation of mortificatio and a second nigredo stage. He related the loss experienced at the end of therapeutic relationship to the alchemical operation related to death, the mortificatio; however, he also found that if one continues therapy at this point rather that terminating it, a second dark, painful, frustrating, and rageful negredo-like phase occurs whereby the mortificatio represents a further digesting and processing of the material that previously emerged in therapy. Rowan (2001) connected the eighth phase of therapy with the alchemical operation of solutio. He found that watery, dissolving nature of solutio fit this phases deeper explorations into more long-standing problems, which evokes powerful feelings that threaten to overwhelm the rational ego. Rowan said that in the ninth phase of therapy, which he characterized as struggles, the breakdown of existing material caused by the previous phase leads to new insights and connections that create new patterns of behavior and found this creation of new patterns similar to the concrete manifesting nature of coagulatio. Rowan (2001) related the 10th phase, which involves breakthrough, solely to the alchemical operation of sublimatio. In this phase, he claimed, one faces ones very worst fears and most intolerable pain in the process of transformation from a negative image of ones insides to a positive image, which can be a new self-center. Through this process of purification, he said, one dies and is reborn. The 11th phase of therapy Rowan (2001) identified as integration and connected it with the alchemical stage of rubedo. This phase, he said, involves movement from

34 frustrated desire for an external object to the transformation of that desire into an internalized image which contains meaning, purpose, and regenerative capacities (p. 286). In this phase, one achieves something genuinely new and finds spiritual fulfillment. Rowans (2010 model of therapy as an alchemical process includes everything that may happen during a course of therapy, and he stipulated that the stages he delineated can be skipped, ignored, or reversed. In addition to finding analogies between the processes of alchemy and the processes of psychotherapy, one can also find analogies between the inclusion of the body in psychotherapy and the inclusion of the body in alchemy. The Body in Psychotherapy Transformation, to be genuine and thorough, always affects the body. Hillman, 1997b, p. 71 One of the founding patients of psychoanalysis, Anna O., referred to psychotherapy as the talking cure (as cited in Freud, 1895/1995, p. 69). A recent survey of 11 case approaches to psychotherapy by psychologist Gerald Corey (2005) demonstrated that talking is still a primary methodology of therapy; however, some psychologists and analysts have explored the role the body can have in the practice of psychotherapy. Gendlins focusing. Professor and psychotherapist Eugene Gendlin (1978) conducted research at the University of Chicago in the early 1960s exploring why psychotherapy was helpful for some people but not for others. Studying tapes of therapy sessions, he found no significant difference in therapist behavior between successful and unsuccessful therapy; however, he did notice a difference in client behavior: early in the

35 recorded sessions of clients whose therapy was successful, the clients displayed an internal skill through the way they talked during the session. Gendlin discovered that this skill was a special kind of internal bodily awareness which he called a felt sense (p. 11). He further discovered that this felt sense could be taught, and he called the process of making contact with this felt sense focusing. Gendlin (1978) stressed that focusing is not an emotional, intellectual, or analytical process. He believed that only your body knows what your problems feel like and where their cruxes lie (p. 12) and that through the process of focusing, the body provides its own answers to many of your problems (p. 11). Besides improving the success rate of psychotherapy, Gendlin found that the focusing process brings change in peoples liveschange that could not easily have happened in any other way (p. 11). Woodmans conscious femininity. In Jungian analyst Marion Woodmans (1985) practice, body awareness became an important focus because of her experience of analysands who, despite an appropriate ego attitude and an earnest commitment to their dreams and to their own growth (p. 55), were unable to make progress. While the ego was willing to adopt a new attitude, something else was holding them back. Woodman found that, at some point in these clients pasts, their bodies had been traumatized, creating a split between body and psyche. The psychotherapeutic techniques that reached their egos, such as confrontation and challenge, did not reach their bodies; instead, she found that the more quickly the ego moves ahead, the more terrorized the body becomes (p. 55) and that if the body does not let go of the conflict created through years of habitual tension, half the problem is not solved and the former distorted pattern is quick to reestablish itself (p. 63).

36 Woodman (1985) focused on body work to help her clients integrate their bodies and psyches. She used a wide variety of techniques including deep relaxation, bringing conscious awareness to the body, breathing exercises, movement, and use of the voice. This work triggered powerful dreams, freed up blocked psychic energy, relaxed rigid personalities, and enabled shifts in habitual patterns. Her clients also discovered that the body has a wisdom of its own (p. 60) and that it could provide a foundation of confidence and support for the ego. Mindells Dreambody. By following an interest in the interaction of psyche and matter, Jungian analyst Arnold Mindell (1982) developed a new theory and approach that he named the Dreambody. Dealing with his own physical illness and working with terminally ill patients led him to discover a technique of amplifying body signals. This process involved helping patients to focus attention on the area of the body that was painful or uncomfortable, allowing the sensation to increase on its own, or acting to encourage an increase or amplification of the sensation. Mindell discovered that this amplification decreased and sometimes removed the symptoms the patient was experiencing. Furthermore, this amplification frequently brought an understanding of the symptom to the consciousness of the patient, and Mindell believed that the pain or discomfort disappeared because its message was integrated (p. 166). He described how focusing on the body in this way cuts through a lot of junk in consciousness (p. 166) and said that the amplification often leads to a sort of satori which requires no further intellectual work (pp. 87-88). As Mindell (1982) continued to work with this amplification technique, he found a connection between the bodies of his patients and their dreams. Mindell had his patients try amplifying the body sensations remembered from their dreams and discovered that the

37 amplification process frequently lead to an increased understanding of those dreams for his patients. Exploring this technique further, he discovered that body processes will mirror dreams (p. 198) and that dreams are pictorializations of body processes (p. 166). Mindell believed that the same unconscious contents that appear in dreams burden and activate the body (p. 198) and, therefore, that work with the body is a critical way of increasing the possibility for knowing the unconscious (p. 199). The Body in Alchemy Numerous sources attest to the importance of physical work in the laboratory, or the bodys involvement in alchemy. Noted historian Betty Jo Teeter Dobbs (1975) found that alchemy had always involved two sidesa secret knowledge and also labor at the furnace (p. 64) and that the acts actually performed in the laboratory, were absolutely essential for the functioning of alchemy (p. 28). This belief is echoed in the writings of the ancient alchemists. Michael Maier (1617/2002) claimed, A clear intellect is not sufficient without manual labour, nor manual labour without a clear mind; theory is not sufficient without practice and vice versa (p. 113). Theodore Kirkringius (1604/1990) stated: Manual experiment is chiefly required in this third Part, without which, every Operation, like a Ship wanting Ballast, floats and is uncertain. It is difficult to express this with a Pen; for more is learned by once seeing the work done, then can be taught by the writing of many Pages. (p. 10) Modern alchemists Robert Bartlett (2007) and Brian Cotnoir (2006) both claimed that it is engagement with the work in the laboratory that causes inner transformation in the alchemist.

38 Active Imagination Jungian Analyst Robert Johnson (1986) described active imagination as a special way of using the power of the imagination to develop a working relationship between the conscious mind and the unconscious (p. 14). Johnson believed that this was not a new technique, but an age-old process that Jung reformulated into a technique that modern people could use (p. 14). Jung (1937/1968 [CW 12]) believed that the alchemists used active imagination and that it was the thing that sets the whole process really going (p. 255 [para. 357]). Jung (1957/1960 [CW 8]) found this technique to be important because mere self-observation and intellectual self-analysis are entirely inadequate as a means to establishing contact with the unconscious (p. 81 [para. 165]). Jungian analyst and movement therapist Joan Chodorow (1997) described active imagination as having two stages: first, letting the unconscious come up; and second, coming to terms with the unconscious (p. 10). The purpose of the first stage in active imagination is to elaborate whatever unconscious contents want to come forth in images, words, or feelings (Chodorow, 1997). In this process, the unconscious takes the lead while the conscious ego serves as a kind of inner witness and perhaps scribe or recorder (p. 10). Jung (1957/1960 [CW 8]) explained that the the unconscious contents want first of all to be seen clearly, which can only be done by giving them shape (p. 86 [para. 179]), and therefore the ego puts its media of expression at the disposal of the unconscious content (p. 85 [para. 178]). Jung believed there were many ways to express these contents, such as writing, drawing, painting, sculpting, and movement. He warned about the importance of eliminating critical or judgmental attention during this stage of the process (p. 83 [para. 170]).

39 The goal of the second part of the active imagination process is for the ego to engage actively with the unconscious contents as an equal (Johnson, 1986). Johnson described this process: In your imagination you begin to talk to your images and interact with them. They answer back. You are startled to find out that they express radically different viewpoints from those of your conscious mind (p. 138). Jung (1957/1960 [CW 8]) believed that this experience widened consciousness and that the confrontation of the different viewpoints held by the conscious and unconscious generates a tension charged with energy and creates a living, third thing (p. 90 [para. 189]). This third thing Jung called the transcendent function (p. 69 [para. 131]), and he believed that it was the key that opens the door to the secret of the [alchemical] opus (1937/1968, pp. 282-283 [CW 12, para. 400).

Chapter III In the Laboratory In his laboratory, the alchemist puts his reveries into experiments. Bachelard, 1960/1971, p. 70 Introduction Conducting physical operations in the laboratory was the core of my explorations. Many other steps were involved in my engagement with the alchemical operations, including selecting an image from the alchemical literature to represent the operation about to be conducted, engaging the image and the operation using active imagination (the third level of certainty in Islamic Gnosticism [Corbin, 1998]), enacting the physical process of the operation, following the instructions of Junius (1982/1985) (the second level of certainty [Corbin, 1998]), and describing my experiences and projections while conducting the physical process. I then analyzed my projections and compared them to experiences with clients in therapy. Following that, I compared my experiences with the prior psychological literature related to this alchemical operation (the first level of certainty [Corbin, 1988]). The last step was to follow the call of the material in whatever direction it required to develop the revealed metaphor further. The physical and psychological preparations made before the work on the Rosemary Plant Stone proper provided their own insights and have therefore been included. Prelude: Masters of Fire The alchemist, like the smith, and like the potter before him, is a master of fire. It is with fire that he controls the passage of matter from one state to another. Eliade, 1956/1978, p. 79

41 Before I began my work on the Rosemary Plant Stone, I wanted to familiarize myself with the technical aspects of the equipment I would be using. I was worried that I might be too distracted trying to figure out how to use the equipment to be able to pay attention to the more subtle aspects of my experiences while working on the Plant Stone. I therefore chose to do a test run of my equipment by distilling the Spirit of Wine. This would involve distilling red wine, collecting the result, and redistilling the result multiple times (Albertus, 1974, p. 32; Cotnoir, 2006, p. 71). I expected this to be a purely technical exercise, only preparation, without any learning related to my topic. In my reading of the alchemical literature, I found several warnings about using too much heat. Basilus Valentinus (1604/1990) warned to observe the Governance of the Fire, taking Care that it be neither too much, nor too little, or too hot, or too cold. For the sum of all is sited in an exact Governance of the Fire (p. 22). Nicholas Flamel (1612/1994) further warned that if you use too much heat it will give thee a box on the eare, and burne his flowers (p. 23). Junius (1982/1985) warned not to burn the plants when conducting distillations and recommended water, oil, and sand baths as practical methods (p. 64). I therefore chose to distill the Spirit of Wine using a water bath. My first attempt at a water bath involved a 15-gallon pot in which I half submerged a five-liter flask with one bottle of wine poured into it (see Figure 2). At the top of the distilling apparatus is a thermometer that measures the temperature of the vapor within the flask. Watching this temperature change slowly, I noticed an urge to turn up the heat to encourage the process to go faster. Waiting for a sign of change was hard. I found myself frequently questioning the amount of fire I was

42 applying. As the temperature approached the level where distillation occurs, I saw bubbles in the water bath.

Figure 2. Distillation of the Spirit of Wine using a small volume water bath. Photo by author, 2011. More and more bubbles appeared as the process continued. The bubbles streamed along the bottom and sides of the flask. At this stage, more heat was required, and the temperature fluctuated frequently, which suggested that the bubbles in the bath affected the smooth transfer of heat from the water bath to the wine. The temperature in the water bath responded quickly to changes in the amount of fire I used. I needed to make small adjustments constantly to try to keep the temperature of the vapor in the flask constant. No matter how small a change to the fire I made, it seemed I was overcorrecting and having to make the opposite change a little while later. As the distillation process continued, the water level in the water bath slowly decreased. I had to add more water to the bath a couple of times to keep the flask adequately submerged. This cooled the bath,

43 interrupting the distillation until the bath was heated again. The entire process took hours, requiring a lot of patience from me to tend the heat for the entire time. As I became comfortable with the activities necessary to keep the apparatus at the proper temperature for the distillation, I was able to pay attention to what was going on in the flask. I watched as the liquid inside the flask began to bubble and then waxed and waned in the amount of bubbling it did. While watching, I was struck with the sense that I was not making the matter bubble, but that it was choosing to bubble on its own. This made no logical sense to me, because my undergraduate chemistry courses had portrayed a direct cause and effect relationship: heat a liquid to its boiling point and it will begin to bubble. Despite this conscious knowledge, I could not shake the feeling that the matter was making the choice. I strongly felt that I was not making it bubble; I was creating an environment that either encouraged or discouraged it to choose to bubble. I was struck by the impression that I was not in the flask with the material, but outside it, maintaining the bath and the heat, which reminded me of my role in the therapeutic relationship in relation to the material within the clients psyche. The feeling that I was not inside the flask with the clients psyche was further intensified by my later experiences while distilling the volatile Sulphur of Rosemary. As the temperature began to increase during that process, clouds of vapor formed inside the flask. These clouds became larger and denser, until a fog covered the entire inside of the flask, obscuring its contents. When I first encountered this, I was reminded that as a therapist, I have no knowledge of what is actually occurring within a client, or inside the flask. As the heat slowly increased, moisture beaded on the inside of the flask, forming the appearance of dewdrops. The dewdrops slowly grew, until one rolled down the wall of the flask. It looked very much like a tear, rolling down a cheek. The frequency of tears

44 increased until they became a rain that washed away the clouds, revealing the interior of the flask once more. From the beginning of the fog until the rain washed it away, I could not see what was occurring with the liquid in the flask. I felt distinctly separate from the material in the flask; however, the fog, dew, tears, and rain were all signs and portents of what was going on within. This felt very much like therapy, in which the expressions of our clients are signs and portents of what is going on within them in their flask. The obscuring fog of a bland poker face, the glistening dew of moist eyes, the fall of a single escaping tear, and the pouring rain of grief and sadness have all appeared in my therapy sessions. If the therapist is not in the flask with the client, where might he or she be? The alchemical images Jung (1946/1966 [CW 16]) used in his discussion of the transference had given me the impression that the therapist is in the flask with the client (see Figure 3). Other alchemical images had reinforced this idea (see Figures 4 and 5). Now I was seeing the flask and its contents as representing the client instead of the combination of the client and therapist in a therapy session. The glass flask was the clients outward presentation, and the liquid inside was the clients psyche or unconscious material. The environment the therapist creates in the session would be represented by the bath in which the flask was submerged. Using this metaphor, the therapist cannot make the clients psyche bubble; the therapist can only create an environment that encourages the clients psyche to choose to bubble. No matter the environment, the choice remains with the clients psyche. The therapist does not transform the client; the therapist regulates the heat in order to create an environment that encourages the client to transform. This may seem a subtle distinction, but it created profound shifts in my view

45 of therapy. These shifts were the more profound because they were changes in beliefs I did not know I had.

Figure 3. King and Queen together in the bath. From Rosarium Philosophorum: The Rosary of the Philosophers, by Anonymous, 1550 (P. Smith, Trans.), p. 26. Copyright 2003 Holmes. Reprinted with permission.

46

Figure 4. King and Queen dissolving in bath. From Philosophia Reformata, by Johann Daniel Mylius, 1622. Reprinted in The Golden Game: Alchemical Engravings of the Seventeenth Century, by A. Klossowski De Rola (Ed.), 1988b, p. 174. Copyright 1988 Thames. Reprinted with permission.

47

Figure 5. King and Queen in the flask. From Anatomia Auri, by Johann Daniel Mylius, 1628. Reprinted in The Golden Game: Alchemical Engravings of the Seventeenth Century, by A. Klossowski De Rola (Ed.), 1988a, p. 204. Copyright 1988 by Thames. Reprinted with permission.

48 The first shift I noticed was the feeling that I was lighter, like I had let go of something weighty. On further exploration, I discovered that I had unconsciously taken on the responsibility for whether or not my clients psyche chose to bubble. I had been holding a belief that the therapist directly caused the client to transform or heal. As it was shown to me that I was not in the flask with the clients psyche, and that it was impossible for me to make the clients psyche do anything, I let go of that responsibility. The second shift I noticed was a feeling of relaxationin particular, a feeling of relaxing a sense of vigilant attention. On further exploration, I discovered that I had a belief that the interventions I used or the actions I took could be right or wrong; however, if an intervention cannot make a clients psyche bubble, then it cannot be right or wrong. I now saw interventions instead as heating or cooling the bath, or therapeutic environment, for the client. Although attaining the proper temperature of the bath may indeed encourage the clients psyche to choose to bubble, there are many different interventions that could bring about that temperature. In principle, any intervention in the heating category, regardless of what modality it might be, would work if the therapeutic environment needed to be hotter. Furthermore, my experience with the physical water bath suggested that it would take several interventions to maintain the temperature, which reduced my sense of the importance of any single intervention. My laboratory work had also demonstrated that if an intervention interrupted the process by making the environment too hot or too cold, that the process would continue once the proper environment was restored. All of these experiences allowed me to release the belief that particular interventions were right or wrong. Regulating the heat of the bath as a metaphor for the work of therapy was proving valuable, so I looked for other uses of this metaphor in the psychological literature. I

49 found that Hillman (1981b) had described analysis as an instrument of fire (p. 36) and a place of fire (p. 37). He suggested that in analysis one may have to turn up the heat deliberately in order to prevent cooling, which separates body and soul (pp. 36-37). He gave some examples of how to turn up heat: invite new aggressions and passions; summon up the furies; force confrontations with essential questions (p. 37). Hillman also warned that too intense a heat at the wrong time (p. 37) leads to mutual accusations, disappointments, bitterness, and a failed analysis. To better understand the practical implications of this metaphor, I discussed it with Brian Winkler (personal communication, 2008), a clinical psychologist with 20 years of experience. He suggested several methods by which the therapeutic environment could be heated or cooled. For cooling, he suggested long, slow, deep breathing; breathing while counting; meditation; cognitive exploration of thoughts and stories; and the cathartic expression of anger, such as hitting a foam mat. For heating, he suggested EMDR, getting in touch with the body, connecting with feelings and then amplifying, challenging questions, meditating on anger and then following where that goes, and assigning emotionally difficult homework. Winkler stated that working with dream images and active imagination could be heating or cooling, depending on the images selected. This discussion demonstrated that the metaphor of regulating fire or heat could work as a description or classification of clinical technique. Extending the regulating heat metaphor, Winkler (personal communication, 2008) mentioned that besides the heat in the therapeutic session, clients also bring heat from their environments into the therapy. This reminded me of work with some of my teen clients and provided me a new way of seeing my work with them. These clients came into the session highly activated or heated. Our sessions always seemed to start with

50 some kind of cooling activity before they would be able to process anything. They lived in an environment that was already very hot, such as a home with a lot of conflict. For these clients, the bath of the therapeutic environment was also a shield, providing a place of refuge and rest that was thermally isolated from their overheated life. In my alchemical operations, I experimented with different kinds of baths to discover what they might teach me about this metaphor of the therapeutic environment. The first water bath had demonstrated some difficulties. It was very reactive, noticeably changing whenever the material in the flask changed what it was doing. This interrupted and delayed the process in the flask until the bath returned to its previous state. The water bath also seemed poorly suited to handling the heat needed for the process. The intensity of heat necessary for the process in the flask caused the water in the bath to boil slowly away. It was losing itself as well as its ability to hold and regulate the flask. The challenges I encountered with this first water bath were analogous to challenges in therapy. The first challenge described a therapist who has reactions to the clients material and process that interfere with the clients process. The therapists emotional reaction to the clients content is strong enough and obvious enough that it causes the client to pause, unsure if it is safe to discuss his or her material. When the therapist restores the environment, the client continues, but his or her process has been interrupted and delayed. The second challenge described a therapist who had difficulty with the intensity of the clients material. The intensity of the material, perhaps childhood abuse or other trauma, caused the therapist to emotionally retreat from the situation, like the vapor escaping the bath. If the therapist does not find a way to become present again (refilling the bath), the flask and its material are no longer supported and their process stops.

51 Noting the challenges with my first water bath, I attempted to improve upon it. After a few failed attempts, I discovered something that helped: adding vegetable oil to the water bath. The oil floated on top of the water, forming a quarter inch layer of oil on top of the surface of the water bath. This had a dramatic effect. The water in the bath stopped bubbling, and much less heat was required to keep the bath at the proper temperature. The temperature swings of the water bath and the vapor in the flask were greatly reduced, becoming steadier and more regular. The water bath had lost its volatility and was now steady and stable in its efforts to support the wines process. The steadying effect of oil on top of the water bath reminded me of supervision by a more experienced therapist. The supervisor is less volatile and less reactive to intense material, so his or her presence calms and steadies the beginning therapist. More experiments with the oil-covered water bath suggested that I should make small adjustments, and then wait and see what results. The liquid responded slowly, so if I kept making adjustments, I overshot. I also noticed that there were lots of small changes in the vapor temperature. If I took these to be indicative of the beginning of a larger swing, then I overcompensated. When I had patience and waited to observe what would occur, I noticed that the small changes were corrected themselves. This reminded me of the week-to-week fluctuations in content from clients, and suggested a calm, patient approach to regulating the heat of the therapeutic environment. Some operations require temperatures in the bath higher than the boiling point of water, so I experimented with using different materials in the baths as well as larger containers. I noticed with larger pots (see Figure 6) that the vapor temperatures were very steady, with less of the minor ups and downs that I noticed with the smaller bath. In particular, when the liquid begins to boil, it suddenly takes a lot of energy from the bath,

52 and that causes a noticeable swing in a smaller bath. When the bath is much larger than the flask that is in it, it reacts in a minor way to the large energy swings from the flask. This appears to be an analogy for the emotional capacity of the therapist. If the therapist has a large emotional capacity, then sudden strong emotional swings from the client, such as intense angry outbursts or suicidal talk, result in small emotional reactions from the therapist. By not having an intense reaction himself or herself, the therapist assures the client that it is safe to talk about this material, and the clients process continues uninterrupted. In my experiences as a beginning therapist, it seemed that the more experience I gained, the less surprised I was by sudden intensity from clients. Experiments with different materials provided additional insight. Compared to the water bath, an oil bath (see Figure 6) was very stable and steady, with a large capacity to handle the heat. At the temperatures necessary for the operations with Rosemary, the oil showed no signs of bubbling and the bath did not reduce in volume during very long operations. Compared to the effects of a large container, the effects of the oil bath were about handling high heat over a prolonged period of time. Can the therapist talk about an intense subject, perhaps suicidal ideation or childhood abuse, every week without retreating emotionally? Can the therapist remain present, with calm, appropriate emotional responses? In my experience, I was best able to remain present with intense material with which I had previous life experience.

53

Figure 6. Rosemary in a large volume oil bath. Photo by author, 2011. After the oil bath, I experimented with a sand bath (see Figure 7). The oil bath had been a large improvement over the water bath, so I expected that the sand bath would be an improvement over the oil bath. The sand bath took a very long time to heat up. It retained the heat very well and was steady but was quite slow to respond to changes in the environment or the flask. This proved to be more of a problem than a benefit. When the liquid in the flask was boiling at a faster rate than I desired, it took a long time to cool the sand bath down enough to result in a calmer boil. The slow response time of the sand bath resulted in poor tracking of the needs of the liquid contents of the plant work. This provided a contrast to the perceived benefits of the oil. Although it is important not to overreact to intense material, the therapist still needs to remain responsive and reactive to that material. The different results of the three

54 baths showed that it is important to match the capabilities of the bath, or therapist, with the needs of the material, or client.

Figure 7. Rosemary in a medium volume sand bath. Photo by author, 2011. My physical preparations had led to new perspectives and insights about the work of the therapist in psychotherapy. My work distilling the Spirit of Wine had suggested the new concept that the therapist is not in the flask with the client but is the bath within which the client rests. From that perspective, the work of the therapist can be described with the metaphor of regulating the heat of that bath, or the environment of the therapeutic encounter, to encourage the work of the clients psyche. In addition, experiments with the different kinds of baths suggested that the following traits are important for a therapist: patience, depth of emotional experience, large emotional capacity, and an ability to balance stability with reactivity. Having completed my physical preparation, I moved on to the psychological preparation.

55 Invitation: Meeting the Senior Student The Hidden Stone, is not sensuously apprehended, but only known intellectually, by revelation or inspiration. Bonus, 1546/1974, p. 274 To prepare myself psychologically for the work, I used active imagination. In my first active imagination experience, I sought out a guide to assist me with the alchemical work. Excerpts from the transcript of that first session are included here, as they explain some of the methodology used in the following operations. As I open myself to my imagination, I find myself outside in a nature setting with a big wooden table in front of me. I sense that there is a process ascending and descending in the space above the bench. This reminds me of images I have seen in some alchemical emblems (see Figures 8 and 9). I ask for the creator of this process to show, and a man appears. He is robed, and his face is hard to make out. Looking closely, I can see his mouth, but his eyes and the rest of his face are covered, sort of like a blindfold. I ask him if he will be my guide. NATURE will be your guide, he responds. He continues, Perhaps I can help you see further. Bring your lab plans here, to this table, and we can talk about them. Why the blindfold? I ask. Its the inner vision, not the outer vision, thats important. He then suggests that I imagine being where the material is during my experiments: be in the flask and try to experience what the material is experiencing. He further suggests that I do the same for the emblems I have selected to represent each stage of the work. I should try to imagine what it is like to be each of the figures in the scenes.

56

Figure 8. Ascending and descending birds. From De Lapide Philosophico, by Lambsprinck 1625. Reprinted in The Golden Game: Alchemical Engravings of the Seventeenth Century, by A. Klossowski De Rola (Ed.), 1988, p. 193. Copyright 1988 by Thames. Reprinted with permission.

57

Figure 9. Ascending and descending vapor. From Symbola Aureae Mensae, by Michael Maier, 1617. Reprinted in The Golden Game: Alchemical Engravings of the Seventeenth Century, by A. Klossowski De Rola (Ed.), 1988b, p. 110. Copyright 1988 by Thames. Reprinted with permission.

58 The Guide says, Remember that the first stage is nigredo, which is about separation. Why do we separate? To discern, for discernment. Like the sword in the tarot deck, we separate to analyze the parts. He advises, Different materials work on different processes. Rosemary is associated with the Sun, so its going to affect other issues associated with the Sun. When I later refer to him as master, he insists I call him sempai, a Japanese term I have known from martial arts that means senior student. I understand his meaning to be that we are both students of Nature, and he has just studied longer than I. On my next visit to the Guide, I ask about regulating the fire in alchemy. He responds, The different kinds of fire call to different things in the material. Moist heat calls to something different than dry heat, or than a direct fire. Tending the fire is a beckoning to the material to enter the process. He warns, It is easy to burn things with too much fire. Gentleness and patience are required. These are soft traits. Move slowly toward a temperature and then observe. One also needs hard traits: precision and endurance to maintain exactly the right amount of heat for as long as needed. The proper regulation of the fire requires hard and soft together. He continues, Many things make heat for the soul. Discomfort is a sign of that heat. Addiction is an attempt to remove that discomfort and cool things down through the use of a substance. When I ask my Guide about the different kinds of heat, he tells me to experience them myself. He leads me through the experience of being a flask in four different forms of heat.

59 The first one is horse dung, which is a low heat that feels warming, supportive, but not constraining. It is a little moist, but not overly wet or emotional. In a lot of ways, it feels like a compassionate hug. Next is a water bath. This is warmer. It also feels very reactive and responsive. I feel like my emotions are brought to the surface in the water bath, whereas my emotions were tucked inside during the horse dung. The sand bath is very hot. It is a dry, intense heat that drives all before it. I feel solidly held and contained, but dispassionately. The sense of being driven to something is very strong. The last is exposure to direct flame. This is an intense, focused heat that causes discomfort and forces me to squirm and move in an attempt to deal with the localized heat. I move to escape the heat, or at least to spread it out more evenly so I will not be burned. There is no containment and no responsiveness. It feels like the goal is to induce movement. My psychological preparation had led to finding a guide to assist me with the work before me. That guide had made suggestions for expanding my methodology as well as providing additional insights into the regulating fire metaphor I had encountered during my physical preparation. Having completed my preparations, I excitedly moved on to the work of creating the Rosemary Plant Stone. The First Step: Mortificatio/Grinding Any transformation that does not involve the destruction of the substantial and specific pre-existent form, is no real transformation at all, but a mere juggling pretence. Bonus, 1546/1974, p. 71

60 The first step in the creation of a Rosemary Plant Stone, when working with dried herb, is to chop or grind the plant into smaller pieces (Albertus, 1974; Junius, 1982/ 1985). To represent this process I chose Emblem VIII from Michael Maiers Atalanta Fugiens (1617/2002) (see Figure 10). This emblem depicts a figure holding a sword poised over an upright egg on a low table. The figure and egg are in a courtyard with a lit fireplace on one side, a closed door opposite the fireplace, and an open passageway in the wall between them. The motto Maier attached to this emblem stated, Take the egg and pierce it with a fiery sword (p. 95). In Maiers discussion of the emblem, I found the following phrase particularly evocative: The philosophers pierce their egg with fire in order to bring it to life and to let it grow and not to destroy it (p. 95). Using active imagination I investigated the emblem I selected for this process. My Guide focuses our attention on the egg: What is it feeling and thinking? Is it ready to come out? When the chick is large enough it must escape the armor that has protected it for so long. The armor has been its protection during its infancy and childhood. The egg is almost bursting when the chick cracks it open with the sword of its beak. If the chick is weak, what happens? It cannot open the egg and dies. At that time, a sword from the outside, cracking the egg, saves its life. But one must be very careful with that sword, to open the egg without stabbing the chick, just as we must be careful with our fire. Too much fire burns and destroys the work instead of opening it. And opening is what we are doing. See that opening in the wall behind the egg? Grinding the rosemary is the same. Next, I proceeded to the physical process of grinding the herb. Albertus (1974) stated that the finer the pieces, the better the extraction, and suggested that the herb be ground in a mortar and pestle. It took me 2.5 hours to clean and grind the 500ml of rosemary I needed for the next stage. My first experience of this was painful aches in my shoulder and back. It felt like a very long grueling process. I felt a pressure to finish all 500ml at one go, despite the aches and pain. It felt like the grinding was going on forever,

61

Figure 10. Image of Mortificatio as the piercing of an egg. From Atalanta fugiens, by Michael Maier, 1618. Reprinted in The Golden Game: Alchemical Engravings of the Seventeenth Century, by A. Klossowski De Rola (Ed.), 1988a, p. 75. Copyright 1988 by Thames. Reprinted with permission.

62 and my shoulders ached fiercely. It took a strong force of will to continue (see Figures 11 and 12).

Figure 11. Rosemary before grinding. Photo by author, 2011.

Figure 12. Rosemary after grinding. Photo by author, 2011.

My second experience of grinding the rosemary was very different. The second time, grinding the herb was a relaxed experience. The simple repetitive act of grinding became meditative, relaxing, and calming to me. The time to complete the grinding of 500ml passed quickly, the way fun activities frequently do. What was the difference? It felt like the first time I was being tested. Did I have the dedication to stay the course? To keep up the pressure for as long as was required? Would I transcend the difficulties and pains, or use them as an excuse to quit? In terms of therapy, could I stay with the clients process as long as it took, even if it made me uncomfortable? During the second process, I experienced confidence and acceptance. I accepted that it might be uncomfortable and knew that I had done it before, so I could do it again. This reminded me of how I was nervous before my first therapy sessions, but I later grew to be calm and confident when entering into them. Following my guides advice, I tried to imagine what it was like for the material I was working. For the rosemary, the grinding feels like crushing blows. The weight and

63 pressure of the pestle is overwhelming. The experience is painful and fragmenting, and it continues on and on, without a breaknot a single blow, but a continual grinding that wears me down. I might be able to recover from a single blow, but the continual grinding defeats me. The scent of rosemary is strong in the air. Is that the smell of my spilt blood? Or the scent of my spirit being set free? I definitely feel that my overly rigid patterns/positions have been shattered. My texture is softer, more flexible, and my color is lighter. I analyzed my projections to understand what was personal, and what might apply to my clients. My projections reminded me of those times when I have felt overwhelmed by life. When I have felt that there was too much to do, that the world was constantly assailing me, and that it was crushing me with its demands and painful punishments. During those times, I have felt exhausted, burnt out, and defeated. The sense of utter failure reminds me most of a time in my life when I experienced severe depression. At that moment, it felt to me that my life was shattered and that I had lost everything: my job, my place to live, my friends. I felt like dying. I gave up and surrendered the belief that I had any idea how to make things better. This analysis reminded me of one of my adult male therapy clients, whom I shall refer to as Luke, who presented with severe depression. He described many life troubles that he felt were related to his depression: failing to complete college, an episode of alcoholism, losing his girlfriend, an inability to hold down most jobs, and having to live with his parents because he was not making enough money to afford his own apartment. He entered therapy feeling utterly defeated and was willing to try anything that might help. I found him to be very engaged in therapy and eager and open to try things. His experience was quite similar to the mortificatio experience of the rosemary and my

64 projections upon it: events in his life had ground him down, shattered his old way of being, and encouraged him to admit defeat. His eggshell had already been opened when he entered therapy, and he was looking for a new way of being. My experience of Luke in therapy is in sharp contrast to another adult male client, whom I shall refer to as John, who also presented with depression. John was unable to experience joy, was generally unhappy with his life, felt stuck, and entered therapy primarily at the instigation of his girlfriend. Before starting with me, he had been in therapy for 4 years with two other therapists. He seemed to sense that something was not quite right with his life, but he was able to get by: he held down a job, had a girlfriend and a place to live. John appeared rigid and inflexible in his behaviors; he clearly had not decided that how he lived was not working for him. I found him to be closed and hesitant during therapy; he might try things once, but would not follow through on things long enough to induce a change. Considering John in terms of the mortifcatio experience gave me new insight. In alchemical terms, I now saw John as a chick still trapped in the egg. The defenses and behaviors that helped him survive his childhood no longer served him; instead, they limited and restricted his life. A vague sense of suffocation from being trapped in his eggshell brought him to therapy, but he had not realized that the eggshell itself was causing his suffocation. Believing that his eggshell still provided him protection and safety, he resisted breaking it. John had not experienced the mortificatio. His old way of being had not been shattered, and he had not been opened. I found it difficult to match these experiences with Rowans (2001) analysis of mortifcatio. According to Rowan, mortificatio occurs late in the therapeutic process (phase seven), when a therapist and client decided to continue in therapy after some

65 initial success. In my experience, Luke, who was entering therapy for the first time, had already experienced mortifcatio, and John, who had been in therapy for years, had not. Perhaps Rowans placement of mortifcatio signified what John needed to do in therapy. Rowans description of mortificatio as a painful stage involving darkness, fear, resistance, frustration, and rage is a likely description of how John might experience the process of shattering his eggshell. In Rowans model, however, that experience comes after the work of several previous stages, which John had not yet accomplished, leaving him still in phase one or two of Rowans model. I explored various models of therapy looking for an explanation for the different therapeutic experiences of these two clients. In terms of Meier and Boivins (2000) model and Chaplins (1998) model, Luke, who had experienced mortificatio, progressed through the various stages of both models, but John, who had not experienced mortificatio, remained in the first or second stage. I found nothing in these two models to explain this difference or that seemed to match the mortificatio experience. In the Stages of Change model by Prochaska et al. (1992), however, I found that explanation. In terms of this model, the John was in the contemplation stage when he entered therapy, and Luke was in the preparation or action stage. This suggests that the mortificatio experience is a process that triggers the transition from a contemplative stage to a more active stage of change, such as preparation or action. Meier and Boivin (2000) and Chaplin (1998) may have made the assumption that this transition has already occurred before therapy begins, and therefore, they had not included a process similar to the mortificatio in their models. Comparing my experiences with the diverse descriptions from Jungian psychology, I found several similarities. Edingers (1994) description matched the shattering of the egg: Feelings of defeat and failure overwhelm the ego, and it surrenders.

66 The ego admits that the way it has been doing things is not working, and it gives up. In contrast, Hillmans (1981a) description of mortificatio as feeling trapped and locked compulsively in behavior (p. 35) matched the experience of being trapped in the egg rather than the escape from the egg. Jungs (1946/1966 [CW 16]) description of mortificatio as the complete stagnation of psychic life (p. 260 [para. 469]) may also represent the condition of being trapped in the egg. In further review, I noticed a difference between Lukes mortificatio experience and the experience I projected upon the rosemary. In my projections, I experienced the crushing and shattering coming from the world outside. Life itself was delivering painful, shattering blows. In contrast, the Luke frequently spoke of an internal voice that was highly critical of him. It may be that the grinding and shattering in his case was experienced as primarily coming from inside, whereas my projected experience was primarily coming from outside. The experience that is universal to both our mortificatio experiences is the feeling that ones old way of life has been completely shattered and ground down to dust and that one has no idea how to continue. The agency of that shattering appears to be unimportant. The critical feature is the shattering of ones old way of being that forces the ego to give up its beliefs that it knows how to run ones life. Reviewing the words of the ancient alchemists about the mortificatio revealed their emphasis on how it opens the material for new growth. They focused on how the death experience of the mortificatio led to a rebirth or new growth. Flamel (1612/1994) described the rebirth of the Phoenix from the ashes of its death. Mylius (1622/1984) portrayed the new plant growing from the death of the seed. Maier (1617/2002) said, In reality this death is the gate to a new life, just as the destruction or the death of the egg, gives life to a new bird (p. 96). Several alchemical images show the death of the king

67 simultaneously with the kings rebirth (see Figures 13 and 14). The metaphors and images the alchemists used show the death of the mortificatio as being important only in so far as it leads to an opening and rebirth. My investigation revealed that the alchemical operation of mortificatio represents the egos letting go of a rigid belief that it knows how to run things. Usually through a shattering of the old ways of being, the ego is opened to the possibility of a different way of being and acting. The egg imagery suggests that the old behaviors and beliefs are defense mechanisms that served well to protect the client during his or her childhood. Those defense mechanisms are now suffocating and restricting the client from growing further. In mortificatio, those old ways are released so that new ways may be found. This process moves clients from a stage where they are not sure if they want to change, or are only thinking about change, to a stage where they are actively preparing for or taking actions to change. My work with clients suggests that this is a necessary experience for clients in order to make progress in the therapeutic process. My analysis of my two clients, suggests that the second client needed a mortificatio experience to aid him in progressing in therapy. If that is correct, how would a therapist help him to pierce that egg shell and open to something new? Is there a way to cause that shattering, other than the complete destruction of the clients way of life? Edinger (1994) stated, This is done by the analytic process, which examines the products of the unconscious and puts the established ego attitudes into question (pp. 4748). Jung (1946/1966 [CW 16]), similarly described how encountering the unconscious wounds the ego (p. 264 [para. 472]). Hillman (1981a) recommended that the symptomatic behavior be ground down, all the inner cohesion broken, until the usual emotional responses are no longer effective (p. 35).

68

Figure 13. King devoured by wolf and reborn from fire. From Atalanta fugiens, by Michael Maier, 1618. Reprinted in The Golden Game: Alchemical Engravings of the Seventeenth Century, by A. Klossowski De Rola (Ed.), 1988a, p. 83. Copyright 1988 by Thames. Reprinted with permission.

69

Figure 14. King dismembered and reborn from coffin. From Atalanta Fugiens, by Michael Maier, 1618. Reprinted The Golden Game: Alchemical Engravings of the Seventeenth Century, by A. Klossowski De Rola (Ed.), 1988a, p. 93. Copyright 1988 by Thames. Reprinted with permission.

70 In my alchemical operations, the rosemary had been opened through the grinding and shattering of the mortificatio. It was then time to proceed to the next operation: solutio. Second Step: Solutio/Dissolving Therefore if these doe not die, and be not turned into water, they remain alone, and without fruite; but if they die, and be resolved in our water, they bring fruit an hundreth fold; and from that very place, where it seemed they had lost what they were, from thence shall they appeare that which they were not before. Artephius, 1612/1994, p. 74 The second step in the creation of the Rosemary Plant Stone was to soak the ground rosemary in water for three days (Albertus, 1974; Junius, 1985). To represent this process, I chose the first emblem in the Book of Lambspring by Lambspring (1678/1990) (see Figure 15). This emblem depicts two fish facing each other in a body of water. On one side of the water is a city scene; on the other is a forest scene. In between the city and forest is a sailing vessel, apparently heading towards the forest. Above this emblem, Lambspring (1678/1990) wrote, Be warned and understand truly that two fishes are swimming in our sea (p. 277), and below it, he wrote, The Sea is the Body, the two Fishes are Soul and Spirit (p. 277). In his discussion of the emblem, I found these verses to be particularly evocative: The Sages will tell you That two fishes are in our sea Without any flesh or bones. Let them be cooked in their own water; Then they also will become a vast sea, The vastness of which no man can describe. Moreover, the Sages say That the two fishes are only one, not two; They are two, and nevertheless they are one, Body, Spirit, and Soul. (p. 276)

71

Figure 15. Two fishes, Soul and Spirit, swimming in the sea of the Body. From De Lapide Philosophico, by Lambsprinck, 1625. Reprinted in The Golden Game: Alchemical Engravings of the Seventeenth Century, by A. Klossowski De Rola (Ed.), 1988, p. 193. Copyright 1988 by Thames. Reprinted with permission.

72 Next, using active imagination, I investigated this emblem and the process of solutio. My guide said, The rosemary, which had been wounded once by removing it from the plant, then withered and dried up becoming hard and brittle. Now it has been wounded again. But if there is no next step, it is for not. This wound opens it, and provides the opportunity for release, but only if it is caught and held. Otherwise the plant becomes drier and turns into dust. But if the wounded, ground, mortified plant is caught and held in water, in emotion, in compassion, then it can release. It can let go and release its insides. Its inner secrets, its inner being. The shell breaks, and the chick emerges. It is received. The insides flow out and into the water. It dissolves into the water. Next, I asked him about the image I had selected for this operation. Why are they fish? he asked. Because they are at home in the sea? I answered. Then why are they half out of the water? he responded. I did not have an answer for him. I got the sense that he wanted me to be able to answer his questions before we could go further, and that was the end of our session. I researched the symbolic meaning of fish. The Penguin Dictionary of Symbols (Chevalier & Gheerbrant, 1982/1996) stated that fish represent water, fertility, life, cyclical birth and rebirth, and wisdom (p. 383). As the two fish were facing each other in a manner similar to the astrological symbol of Pisces, I explored the meanings of that symbol as well and found that Pisces represented individuals with a highly impressionable and receptive nature lacking firmness (p. 757), in whose inner world knots are untied, cohesive forces baffled and shapes blurred (p. 757). It also associated Pisces with a watery principle, which diffuses, dilutes, enfolds and welds individual parts into one whole (p. 757). As I researched further, I discovered that Carl Jung was familiar with this emblem and discussed it in his writings. In a chapter in Aion (1951/1978 [CW 9ii]) entitled The

73 Fish in Alchemy, he stated, The zodiacal fishes that move in opposite directions symbolize the arcane substance (p. 145 [para. 224]) and explained the arcane substance, as its attributes show, refers to the self (p. 145 [para. 224]). Discussing the fish further, he stated, Wholeness is perforce paradoxical in its manifestations, and the two fishes going in opposite directions . . . are an instructive illustration of this (p. 145 [para. 224]). In a chapter called The Components of the Coniunctio, in Mysterium Coniunctionis (1955/1970 [CW 14]), where he explained his concept of the opposites, he described that the astrological Fishes which, swimming in opposite directions, symbolize the spirit/soul polarity (p. 5 [para. 3]). Why fish, though, instead of human symbols of polarity, such as the red king and white queen? Jung (1951/1978 [CW 9ii]) stated that the use of fish is simply a visualization of the unconscious self manifesting itself through animal impulses (p. 145 [para. 224]). Jung believed that in alchemy, the sea represents the unconscious (p. 142 [para. 219]; 1955/1970 [CW 14], p. 5 [n. 14]) and that bringing the fish to the surface of the sea is equivalent to realizing consciously an unconscious content (1951/1978 [CW 9ii]). In summary, Jung found that this emblem represented unconscious symbols of the self, wholeness, and polarity emerging into consciousness, perhaps through the vehicle of animal instincts. Jungian analyst Jeffrey Raff (2000) also analyzed this emblem. Raffs analysis of the two fish is very similar to Jungs, and he summarized it thus: The two fish therefore refer to an image of the self that is about to appear to the ego (p. 92). Raff also analyzed the imagery in the background of the emblem. For Raff, the ship in the center of the picture represented the ego, and the apparent large size and well-constructed (p. 95) nature of the vessel signified to him a strong and robust ego. Further, Raff believed that the forest symbolizes the untamed world of the unconscious, while the city is the scene

74 of conscious life (p. 95). The ship is in the middle, between the forest and the city, which to Raff meant the ego is not strictly identified with the conscious side (p. 95). For Raff, the background of the emblem signifies that, the ego must disengage from the conscious world in order to entertain new ideas and possibilities as they emerge from the unconscious (p. 95), like two fish from the sea. As I thought more about why the fish were floating on the surface, I remembered that fish float on top of the water when they are dead. The verses without any flesh or bones and let them be cooked (Lambspring, 1678/1990, p. 276) also suggested dead fish to me. As previously discussed, in alchemy, dead things relate to the nigredo stage and to the mortificatio operation. This could signify that the material being worked upon had previously been mortified or that the operation depicted included a mortificatio experience. As the material I was working with had been mortified, and the solutio operation was a part of the nigredo stage of the work I was doing, all of this was appropriate, but did not add insight into the meaning of the fish floating. Perhaps it signifies that the mortificatio experience is a requirement to enact the solutio successfully, either before or during the solutio experience. I looked in the alchemical literature for references to floating during the solutio operation. In the description by Artephius (1612/1994), he stated, After the putrification then, and dissolution of these Bodies, our Bodies doe lift themselves up to the surface of the dissolving water (p. 67), and the soule of the two bodies swimmes aloft upon the water like white creame (p.73). Investigating further, I found that Artephius associated floating during solutio with purification: a separation of the pure from the impure. He described this separation: The pure and white ascendeth upward, and the impure and earthly fixed remaines in the bottome of the water, or the vessell, which must be taken

75 away and removed (pp. 66-67). Thinking of the fish as rising forth from the depths, I was reminded of other alchemical statements about solutio. Mylius (1622/1984) called it the revelation of the hidden (p. 31), and Calid (1541/1992) said it extracteth the inward parts of things (p. 44). Magnus (1541/2003) claimed solutio was devised so that the intrinsic qualities of substances might become extrinsic (p. 108). The fish rising forth from the depths, revealing the hidden, inward things is also similar to Jungs (1951/1978 [CW 9ii]) description of the conscious realization of unconscious contents. After investigating the meaning of the floating fish, I proceeded to the physical process of the second step. I found Juniuss (1982/1985) instructions to be quite simple: Add 3 liters of distilled water to the 500 ml. of ground rosemary prepared earlier, and let it sit in a cool place for 3 days. The solution was kept cool to prevent the rotting of the putrefactio operation from beginning. After the 3 days, all the liquid had taken on a greenish-brown hue (see Figure 16).

Figure 16. Solutio: mortified (ground) rosemary soaked in water for three days. Photo by author, 2011.

76 My experience of this process was a radical change from the active grinding of the mortificatio. This process was about waiting and being patient. During this operation, I experienced being, not doing. As I repeated this process on multiple batches, I noticed that during this process I felt less worried, less stressed, and not as attached to outcomes. The days during which I conducted solutio were permeated with relaxing sensations of letting go. Next, I tried to imagine what the rosemary was experiencing. Immediately, I felt an immense sense of relief. An almost audible Aaaahhhh as the rosemary let go into a sea of compassion. It had been trying to hold it together for so long, and now it could just let go and not worry about it. The feeling was blissful. I could sense that it was only able to let go like this because it had been ground down to the point where it could not resist it any longer, and had given up. Without the shattering of the armored eggshell, the death of the rigid defensive behaviors, it would not have a positive experience of being received by the compassionate embrace of the water. It also felt like everything I had hidden away behind my protective eggshell walls was now leaking out into the water. This would have been disconcerting except that the floating, dissolving feeling was very relaxing and comforting. The imagery of the dry, parched rosemary being succored by the life-giving waters was strong for me. I analyzed my projections to understand what was personal and what might apply to my clients or the therapy process. In my projection, the solutio felt like a warm, accepting, and compassionate embracea feeling of being held, supported, and buoyed. It was everything that my childhood history of abandonment and neglect was not. As such, I found it blissful and relaxing. It was such a relief not to have to hold all the shattered pieces of life and defenses together anymore. This was a place where one did

77 not have to put on the show that was required everywhere else. Here I could relax, release, and let go of all the masks and shoulds. I immediately connected this with the compassionate empathy and safe holding of the therapeutic alliance. This also matched the experience of returning to the womb that both Edinger (1994) and Greene (1988) described as one of the possible forms of solutio. Although my childhood history predisposes me to find this experience blissful, I can imagine others might find it to be the drowning, terrifying, engulfing, and overwhelming experience described by Edinger and Greene as another possible form of solutio. Edinger (1994) and Greene (1988) believed that the ego strength of the person being dissolved determined whether he or she experienced the solutio as pleasant or terrifying. Edinger related this to the state of development of the ego, with an immature ego finding the experience blissful, while a more mature ego finds it terrifying. Greene stated that for a weak ego, the solutio is experienced as a wonderful thing, because one does not have to struggle any longer (p. 290), whereas a strong ego experiences the solutio as a frightening journey, fraught with anxiety (p. 291). Their theories suggest that my projected experience of the solutio as blissful was because I had a weak ego at the time. Comparing their discussion to my experiences led me to additional understandings about the operation of mortificatio. Immediately before this solutio operation, the rosemary had endured the mortificatio operation. In terms of the psyche, during the mortificatio, the ego and its rigid defenses were reduced, weakened, and shattered. I had now learned that that is exactly what is required to make the solutio process effective and pleasant for the material. In this alchemical process, the purpose of the mortificatio was to prepare and open the material for the solutio. I found confirmation of this interpretation in Maiers

78 (1617/2002) discussion of the emblem I used for mortificatio: The fire pierces the bodies as a lance or like a sharp sword and makes them porous, so that the water may penetrate into them and may dissolve the bodies (p. 96). To confirm this hypothesis further, I did a physical experiment in the laboratory. I put dried rosemary that had been through the mortificatio (ground) in one jar and dried rosemary that had not been mortified in a different jar. The next day, the liquid in the jar with the mortified rosemary was a rich golden-brown (see Figure 17); thus, the mortified rosemary had let go into the water, revealing its hidden interior. The liquid in the jar with the unmortified rosemary was barely tinted (see Figure 17); that rosemary was not letting go, releasing, or revealing the hidden. In my projection, I associated the solutio with the compassionate empathy of the therapeutic alliance. Could I find a similar difference in the experience of the therapeutic alliance between mortified and unmortified clients in therapy?

Figure 17. Mortified (ground) rosemary (left) and unmortified rosemary (right) in water. Photo by author, 2011.

79 I compared these experiences to the experiences of my clients Luke and John. Luke had experienced mortificatio before entering therapy with me. He appeared to find therapy supportive and looked forward to his sessions. He rarely rescheduled appointments and never missed an appointment. He shared deeply and readily undertook imaginal activities during his sessions. He had experiences during our sessions wherein he gained conscious realization of previously unconscious contents. In comparison, John, who had not experienced the mortificatio previously, had a different experience. John appeared to attend his sessions with a sense of duty and resignation. His sharing occurred primarily at a surface level. In an effort to go deeper, I had asked him to produce an artistic expression. While doing so, he experienced intense anxiety and, once finished, refused to do any further artistic projects. Trying to talk about the art project also caused him anxiety. John, as an unmortified client, clearly had a different experience of the therapeutic alliance than a mortified client, such as Luke. John had the experience of the solutio that Edinger (1994) and Greene (1988) associated with having a strong ego, yet I experienced him as having little ego strength. Using the egg imagery, I would say that John held on so tightly and rigidly to the eggshell of defensive behaviors because for him there was nothing inside the shell. Believing the egg to be empty and hollow, he had come to identify himself entirely with the eggshell; therefore, the idea of breaking or dissolving that eggshell was terrifying. I believe that he sensed the inherent fragility of that rigid eggshell, which added to his fear and anxiety. With this further analysis, I would associate the eggshell with the persona, rather than the ego itself. In Johns case, his ego was strongly identified with his persona. The shattering of his eggshell would then represent not only the shattering of his old way

80 of being, or persona, but also the shattering of his egos identification with his persona, freeing his ego to experience the unconscious. The watery compassion of the solutio attempts to penetrate to the ego within and behind the eggshell of the persona. If the persona-eggshell has already shattered, and the individuals ego is no longer strongly identified with the persona, then the waters of compassion hold and support the ego, allowing it to mingle and interact with the unconscious contents emerging like fish from the depths. For an unshattered eggshell, and an ego still strongly identified with the persona, the same watery compassion is a terrifying pressure threatening to crack, destroy, and overwhelm the shell or persona, leading only to oblivion. In contrast to Edinger (1994) and Greene (1988), I found that the blissful or terrifying experience of the solutio is dependent on the strength of the egos identification with the persona, rather than the strength of the ego itself. None of my previous clients had a strong ego, however, so I cannot make any definite conclusions about the effect of ego strength on the experience of the solutio. Comparing my experiences to Rowans (2001) phases of therapy, I found Rowans description of the first phase had much in common with my solutio experience. He stated that the first phase involves acceptance, receptiveness, mirroring, and gaining rapport. He further described this phase as a time for the client to feel that he is being contained and held (p. 276) and that the meeting of therapist and client at this phase takes a motherly, womblike form (p. 275). Rowan associated his first phase with Chaplins (1988) Getting Started and Building Trust phase, and I found Chaplins description of providing unconditional acceptance of the client, letting the client be, and providing a safe environment that holds and contains the client also fit my experience of solutio. Rowan (2001), however, attributed solutio not to the first phase, but to the eighth

81 phase. For Rowan, solutio was about the deeper explorations of a second cycle of therapy, the experience of powerful emotions overpowering and dissolving the ego. He also associated it with a second experience of Chaplins (1988) Identifying Themes phase. Other than the potential for overpowering emotions and dissolution of the ego, my experiences of the solutio did not match Rowans (2001). I easily found similarities between my experience and the descriptions of solutio by Edinger (1994) and Greene (1988); however, it took additional analysis for me to find similarities with Jungs (1946/1966 [CW 16]) description of the solutio as a descent into the unconscious (p. 245 [para. 455]). First, in my projection, I experienced the watery compassion of the solutio rising up to envelope and support me, rather than descending into it. Upon further review, I found that Jungs fuller description of the experiencethe rising fountain of the unconscious has reached the king and queen, or rather they have descended into it as a bath (p. 241 [para. 453])matched my experience. Second, I experienced the waters in which I was immersed as the compassion of an Other, not as descending alone into my unconscious. The emblem Jung used in his description of the solutio (see Figure 3) shows two people in the solutio bath, and in his discussion, he stated that one can achieve wholeness only through the soul, and the soul cannot exist without its other side, which is always found in a You. Wholeness is a combination of I and You (pp. 244-245 [para. 454]). Just as the two fishes facing each other represent wholeness, according to (Jung (1951/1978 [CW 9ii], p. 145 [para. 224]), the therapist and client are a wholeness that descend into the bath together. Last, I found my experience of compassion and caring in Jungs (1946/1966 [CW 16]) description of the watery bath as the rising up of the fiery, chthonic Mercurius, presumably the sexual libido which engulfs the pair and is the obvious counterpart to the heavenly dove. The latter has

82 always been regarded as a love-bird (p. 246 [p. 455]). For me the love-bird descending represented the conscious expression of compassion and empathy by the therapist, which elicited a reciprocal response in the rising water of the unconscious. Jungs (1946/1966 [CW 16]) statement that Wholeness is a combination of I and You (pp. 244-245 [para. 454]) reminded me of the verses attached to the emblem of the fishes: The two fishes are only one, not two; They are two, and nevertheless they are one (Lambspring, 1678/1990, p. 276). In my experience of the solutio, I found many two-that-are-one experiences. The rosemary dissolves into the water, and the two beings, the ground rosemary and the water, become one indistinguishable being. At the same time, the insides of the ungrinded rosemary come out into the water. The rosemary that appears to just be an outer shell is now revealed as both the shell floating on the water and the inner oils and juices that have entered into the water; yet, as they mingle in the water, the insides and outsides of the rosemary are joined together again. In the same way, the therapist and client come together in the water of the therapeutic alliance. They are two who intermingle and become one. In this place of watery holding, the unconscious, hidden content of the client (and the therapist) emerge. The one is faced with the knowledge that it is actually two, and yet, in that process the conscious and unconscious learn of each other and join together, becoming one again. I have so far described the solutio experience as the therapist in the water with the client as part of the therapeutic alliance, but what of the metaphor discovered in the first part of my work, that the therapist is not in the flask? If the therapist is not in the flask with the client, then it cannot be the therapists compassion that the client is experiencing. It must be the clients own compassion that he or she is experiencing. The therapists compassionate tending and holding evoke in the clients psyche its own compassion for

83 the ego and itself. I am reminded of my guides statement: Tending the fire is a beckoning to the material to enter the process. The sea of compassion in which the client is floating is his or her own compassion that has been beckoned forth by the compassion of the therapist. The clients unconscious compassion for himself or herself rises like water in the bath in response to the descent, like the dove, of the therapists compassionate behavior. The therapists behavior allows the client to project upon the therapist the compassion and acceptance he or she is looking for within, for as a rule the unconscious first appears in projected form (Jung, 1946/1966 [CW 16], p. 188 [para. 383]). Looking out of the flask, the clients psyche sees the therapist along with its own reflection in the glass, just as when looking into the flask, the therapist sees the client alongside his or her own reflection. My investigation revealed that the alchemical operation of solutio represents the dissolving of the boundaries between the ego and the unconscious. This dissolving allows unconscious contents such as images of wholeness and the Self to emerge and make themselves known to the ego. This dissolving occurs in the environment of compassion, empathy, patience, and safe holding provided by the therapeutic alliance. The therapists demeanor and actions beckon to the unconscious contents within the clients psyche, which first reveal themselves as projections upon the therapist. My alchemical investigation suggested that these projections occur immediately and can be far subtler than the strong feelings of love or hate I had originally imagined such projections to involve. These investigations further revealed possible criteria that determine whether this dissolving is experienced by the client as blissful or terrifying.

84 Other Operations Several more operations were involved in my quest for the Rosemary Plant Stone, including sublimatio, putrefactio, separatio, calcinatio, coagulatio, and coniuctio. I found that my therapeutic experiences with clients provided the most insight into the operations of mortificatio and solutio, and therefore I limited this work to the discussion of those two alchemical operations and how they relate to the processes of therapy. Summary Including the body of laboratory work in the practice of psychological alchemy has demonstrated its usefulness as a methodology for inquiry into psychological alchemy. Tending the fire beneath water, oil, and sand baths, I discovered a metaphor that can be physically experienced, which demonstrated the benefits of a therapist having patience, depth of experience, large emotional capacity, and a balance between reactivity and stability. I also had a kinesthetic experience that caused me to let go of trying to do the correct intervention that would cause my client to heal and instead to see my work as tending the heat of the environment, as a beckoning to my clients psyche. In grinding rosemary in a mortar and pestle, I expanded my understanding of the death experiences of the alchemical operation of mortificatio. I now saw it somewhat differently than Edingers (1994) idea of the death of the ruling principle of the ego; I saw it instead as the death of the persona and the cessation of the identification of the ego with the persona. The death of this identification opens the ego to the possibility of a conscious relationship between the ego and the unconscious, embodying the rebirth theme that the alchemists associated with the mortificatio. When dissolving ground rosemary in water, I gained a deeper appreciation for how the therapeutic alliance facilitates the dissolving experience of the alchemical

85 operation of solutio. I saw how the watery embrace of the therapists patience, compassion, and empathy provide a safe environment for the clients ego and unconscious to mingle. My investigation revealed the subtlety of the transference projections that occur during this process as well as the many layers of meaning within Jungs (1946/1966 [CW 16]) previously opaque description of the solutio. I believe that I have uncovered in this process the beginning of what could be a rich vein of psychological gold. The two operations discussed here are the initial excavation of that vein. More gold remains to be uncovered in the analysis of the other operations. Once the work of creating the Rosemary Plant Stone has been thoroughly quarried, there appear to be many avenues for furthering this research, as well as finding clinical applications of these discoveries.

Chapter IV Conclusions I was called to this alchemical work to learn what might be remembered about alchemy by returning to the laboratory. I endeavored to expand the applications of psychological alchemy by bringing the body (as laboratory work) of alchemy back into the discussion. I hoped that the insights gained, if any, might apply to the practical work of doing therapy as well as be approachable by beginning therapists. My review of the existing literature showed that the symbols of alchemy were related to the symbols that occur in modern dreams. I discovered that both ancient alchemists and modern depth psychologists have analyzed the operations and stages of alchemy in terms of transformation. Some psychologists have found that including the body in psychotherapy can be valuable for understanding the psyche. Similarly, the ancient alchemists also claimed that physical laboratory work was important for understanding the opus. Conclusions The research for this thesis was approached using a variation of Romanyshyns (2007) alchemical hermeneutic method that incorporated attention to the three levels of certainty in Islamic Gnosticism, as described in Chapter I, while carrying out laboratory work based on traditional methods of ancient alchemy. I found that the methodology added to my understanding of therapy as well as to the theory of other depth psychologists. It added practical therapeutic understandings to the theories about the alchemical imagery studied. I further found that it deepened my understanding of

87 Edingers (1994) and Jungs (1937/1968 [CW 12], 1944/1968b [CW 12], 1946/1966 [CW 16], 1955/1970 [CW 14]) explanations of alchemical symbolism, as well as extending and integrating their work with other theorists. My work in the laboratory has suggested different correspondences between the alchemical operations and the therapeutic process than those used by Rowan (2001). As I worked through the analysis of the operations, I discovered that my methodology was extended. As I mixed the theoretical writings of the ancient alchemists and depth psychologists with my experiences in the laboratory, I found that the experiences with my clients were another important element to enable me to understand fully the application of the work to psychotherapy. This three-way dialog, between theory, laboratory experience, and the experience of clients in therapy, reminded me of the alchemical three essences: Salt, Sulfur, and Mercury, or Body, Spirit, and Soul (Paracelsus, 1658/1976 [Vol. 1], p. 125). An important part of my methodology turned out to be studying the operations as part of a process. The operations I conducted existed in relationship to the operations before and after them, and I found that complete understanding of an operation was not possible without considering it in to the context of the operations around it. My understanding of mortificatio was deepened when I experienced how it affected the following operation of solutio, and experiencing how mortificatio affected solutio deepened my understanding of the process that solutio represents. I expect to learn more about solutio in my ongoing work, when I complete the analysis of the operation that occurred after it.

88 Summaries and Applications of the Metaphorical Findings The metaphor of Masters of Fire. In my preliminary work with the alchemical laboratory equipment, I discovered a new metaphor for the work of the therapist. This metaphor saw the therapist as a Master of Fire, someone who regulated the heat of a bath (or environment) in which rested the flask that represented the client. The discussion of the metaphor included several forms of heat that the therapist might apply and that have different effects on the bath and the client. Also discussed were different forms of the bath, and how both the contents of the bath (such as water, oil, or sand) and its size and capacity relate to the qualities and experiences of the therapist. Finally, this metaphor represents the actual work of therapy as being done by the clients psyche within the flask and indicates that the therapist is not in the flask with the clients psyche. The therapist can only adjust the environment the client is in, as an invitation to the clients psyche to enter into the process. The metaphor of regulating the heat of the bath, or therapeutic environment, has several clinical applications. First, it reduces the importance of specific interventions and focuses the attention on the environment created by the therapist with those interventions. Second, it provides categories of heating and cooling by which interventions of many different modalities can be compared for their effect on the therapeutic environment. Third, it provides imagery that can be used to discuss the varied benefits of a therapists life experience, clinical experience, and supervision by an experienced therapist. Fourth, its descriptions of different kinds of heat keep therapists open to different ways of creating the therapeutic environment. Fifth, the focus on the therapist not being in the flask with the client encourages viewing therapy as a process of inviting and beckoning to the clients psyche and indicates that the clients psyche does all the actual work of

89 therapy. Last, I found that, as professor of Medical Psychology Ellen Siegelman (1990) said of her exploration of various metaphors of the therapeutic process, the therapists personal myth shapes the metaphors he or she will use, and these in turn, become filters through which experience is passed (para. 31). A new metaphor, therefore, provides different filters with which to view the experience of therapy and may provide understanding about the process that other metaphors of therapy do not. Mortificatio as metaphor. Exploring the mortificatio taught me a story about the necessity for death in the beginning of transformation. As developing children, we build an eggshell to protect ourselves through childhood. That eggshell is the behaviors and beliefs that helped us do well in our childhood and represent our persona. As we grow and develop, that eggshell becomes too small. It now is confining, restricting, and stifling. How we act and what we believe limit our ability to try new things. While we hold on to the eggshell, we cannot continue to grow. For many, however, the eggshell of the persona is all that they believe they are. The mortificatio is the shattering of the shell to allow new growth. The shattering effect of mortificatio accomplishes two important things. First, it shatters the old way of being. It slays the belief that we know how life works and what to do. This opens us to trying new behaviors, new beliefs, and new ways of being. Second, it shatters the identification of the ego with the persona. Finding ourselves still alive, while simultaneously looking upon the corpse of the persona we thought we were (as depicted in alchemical emblems of the mortifcatio in Figures 13, 14, and 15), forces us to accept that our self is more than just the persona. The separation of the ego from the persona opens the ego to the opportunity of a new relationship with the unconscious. The slaying effect of the mortificatio frequently occurs due to overwhelming defeat and

90 failure in the external world, but it can also occur from exposure to overwhelming inner experiences, such as exposure to the reality of our unconscious. My experiences of mortificatio lead to theorizing about clinical applications related to beginning work with a new client. Is this new client coming to therapy because of an external mortificatios shattering of his or her way of being? Or is he or she coming to therapy because of intense, unpleasant symptoms of being trapped in the eggshell? With the former, immersion in the compassionate solutio of the therapeutic alliance is an appropriate next step. With the latter, however, this mortificatio leading to solutio may result in anxiety and resistance. A client still trapped in the eggshell needs to be guided carefully to an experience of the unconscious, as an inner mortificatio. Such clients will likely need support to deal with the anxiety of risking all that they think they are as well as to help them feel they have strength to do so. Solutio as metaphor. Exploring the solutio provided a different view of the therapeutic alliance. From this vantage point, it was a watery dissolving of boundaries that beckoned forth previously hidden contents from the unconscious. The therapists empathy and compassion create a rapport with the client that provides a safe place where he or she can let the boundaries between the ego and the unconscious dissolve, allow the hidden insides of his or her self emerge, and let his or her various parts mingle together. As the unconscious first appears in projected form (Jung, 1946/1966 [CW 16], p. 188 [para. 383]), these previously unconscious contents will appear first as projections upon the therapist. The emotions and contents in these very projections and the unconscious material they constellate in the therapist (p. 176 [para. 364]) are what the clients psyche is trying to bring forth into consciousness. My explorations of the solutio also showed

91 that without the mortificatio to prepare a client for the solutio, the dissolving it entails can be filled with anxiety and fear. My experiences of the solutio and how it relates to the therapeutic alliance have some clinical applications. First, my experiences suggest that actions of the therapist that encourage the unconscious to come forth are patient waiting, calm acceptance, compassionate presence, and generally being with the client rather than doing interventions. Second, the revealed importance of the client having a mortificatio experience before the solutio suggests that clients who are demonstrating anxiety, fear, and/or resistance in relation to the therapeutic alliance may best be served by assisting them to have an inner mortificatio experience. Last, my analysis of the solutio reiterates the significance of the transference of projections on to the therapist during the therapeutic process. The metaphor of solutio is a reminder that this process is occurring in therapy as soon as the therapeutic alliance is formed and the therapists presence and way of being is what bring it forth rather that any active interventions he or she may be considering. The metaphor is also a reminder that this is the clients psyches first method for bringing forth the unconscious material with which it wants to work. Suggestions for Further Research My work for this thesis suggests several areas for further research. The first area is to complete the analysis of the other operations I conduct (sublimatio, putrefactio, calcinatio, coagulatio, separatio, and coniuctio) as my experience with the therapeutic process deepens. The analysis of those further operations would also lead to an analysis of the other two stages of the alchemical opus: albedo and rubedo. As this was my first attempt at creating a Plant Stone, I believe that repeating the entire process again would potentially add to the learnings gained so far, especially as my experience in

92 psychotherapeutic practice grows. Another area of additional research would be to create a Plant Stone from different plants and from fresh versus dried cuttings to see how that affected the overall process. Perhaps different plants may be analogous to different symptoms in clients; for example, anxious plants, depressed plants, and angry plants. Another area of further research would be for another therapist to conduct the same alchemical operations I did, and then compare our projections and experiences. This would assist in separating out personal versus universal material. Personal Reflections on the Process While conducting the laboratory work for this thesis, I found myself intimately tied to the processes I was conducting in the laboratory. When I performed active operations (such as sublimatio), I felt energized and inspired. When I performed passive operations (such as solutio and putrefactio), I was lethargic and relaxed. The burning of calcinatio was excruciating and exhausting. During the operations of the nigredo stage, I was frequently melancholic and had low-energy. Experiencing the alchemical operations directly, both in my psyche and in my body, has led to a deep kinesthetic awareness of the operations unlike anything I had read or thought before I began this work. A few months into the work of the nigredo stage, I realized I had plenty of material and attempted to stop laboratory work and shift my focus to writing about my results. I found myself stuck in a listless, lifeless depression, unable to move forward. I was unable to write, or accomplish anything else. I stayed in that dark place for months, until I chose to continue my laboratory work. As I completed the laboratory operations necessary to move to the albedo stage of my quest for the Rosemary Plant Stone, I slowly emerged from that dark depression. At that point, I realized that I had bound myself to a process of transformation that I did not control. There was no getting off the train in this

93 process, and I had no idea where the train was going, or how long it would take to get to its destination. As a therapist, this experience deepened my respect for those brave individuals who enter into the psychotherapy process with us and who are similarly beginning a journey with a destination and duration they cannot know beforehand.

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