The chemist runs the risk of setting off an explosion that destroys all traces of notes, formulas, experiments and evidence leading to the proof that her theorems are correct.nnThe alchemist predates the chemist by several hundred years, and not only ran the same risks in the lab, but also in the metaphorical lab of self-discovery and life transformations.nnThe Alchemists of old are famed for their efforts to change base metals into gold. Less known facts are their efforts to change life’s dull and lusterless experiences into joyful and meaningful connections to the natural world. They found a rich metaphor of their material work that translated to personal transformation and growth.nnWhat were the catalysts in those internal labs? What propelled these early scientists to embrace the unseen and recognize the parallels to their laboratory experiments?nnI purport that the catalyst was their emotions. Why? Because that’s where my own alchemical story begins. Let me start at the beginning – or maybe it’s actually the middle, but eventually we’ll get to the ending.nnI was on the phone with my oldest son, Stacy. It was one of our regular conversations of late about how he was dealing with the upheavals of separating from his wife of 11 years and pending divorce. I had begun to experience some backlash from our conversations ~ some anger that was coming up as I relived my own separation and eventual divorce from his father more than 10 years previous. The similarities between the two events made it impossible not to relive it all.nnThe anger moved into sadness. I couldn’t put my finger on the source of that sadness, but it was deep and blanketed my entire being. I tried to escape by watching TV, talking on the phone, emailing friends, eating, drinking, reading, etc. I didn’t want to be under that blanket, or at least feel it’s oppressive weight.nnAs I headed toward the refrigerator once again, I paused mid-step and said, ‘okay, stop running. If you don’t get clarity on what this about, it will only come back another time in magnified proportions to better get your attention. This is big enough, and I will stop and see it now.’nnI sat down with pen and paper and wrote and wrote until my hand was sore. Then I lay down and tried to dream a better dream. Then I got up and wrote some more. Nothing was breaking through. I was still angry and sad and at one point heard myself say, ‘I hate myself’ quickly followed by ‘for letting him treat me…..’ nnI went back to sleep and tried dreaming it better. After sunrise a dream came to me – one full of symbols that I couldn’t yet understand, but somehow penetrated a part of my psyche. There was the alchemy I practiced using pen and paper and fantasies of a different life, and there was the alchemy at work on me that I couldn’t see, but nonetheless catalyzed an explosion of understanding that blew my old laboratory into oblivion.nnAfter the last round of slumber, at the very moment between sleep and waking, it came to me in a flash of clarity. The blanket of sadness was incinerated in an instant and I was washed clean with the cool blue waters of joy and understanding. I knew my internal chemists were in love with me, and I was in love with me too.nnThe clarity that I reached showed me that all my efforts to discover the source of my pain were steeped in self-pity. I was a victim of my ex-husband’s inability to love me and his repeated abandonment of me, and my devoted love for him. Poor me. nnThe lab exploded and the smoke cleared and there stood the man I had loved so dearly faithfully keeping his agreement to me. He spent his life with me to show me that I needed to release myself from the hooks of being abandoned by my father when I was still in the womb. He showed me that the self-hatred I carried, because I saw myself as unlovable if I couldn’t keep my father, was a lie ~ a very destructive lie. He was my mirror, showing me these things through his own suffering. But I was afraid and unprepared to see my reflection. And now I can release him from that agreement to find his own way out of the lie that he is unlovable.nnWhy now? I ask myself. I had forgiven my father years ago for his abandonment of me. I had found a love for myself and appreciation for who I am. That work was done. But I still held the misperception of being a victim of my husband’s behavior. My son’s divorce allowed me to see that although the underlying need for the mirror of my husband was resolved, the re-creation of those underlying issues in my marriage were still real and active in my psyche. They were holding the old lies in place blocking the flow of energy toward a full life and uninhibited expression of love. nnThe alchemy of our lives finds us in a full range of experience and experiments. And emotions catalyze our responses to them. As I become familiar with the stages of alchemy through reading The Alchemical Woman, A Handbook for Everyday Soulwork, I gain awareness of, and can give name to the undercurrents of my ever-changing scenery. It makes me pause and drop into those undercurrents for closer examination, to find a more authentic expression of myself. And the more I allow myself the time and space to do that, the more I realize that it IS living. Without it, I am simply playing a part on a stage with as much substance and meaning as a puppet on a string. nnThe Alchemical Woman is me, and some days that’s a ride in the park. Some days, it’s a slide into hell. Each day is real and whole and I am present in all my glorious becoming.nnThe Alchemical Woman, A Handbook for Everyday Soulwork is available through Amazon.com, BookWeaver.co.uk, TheAlchemicalWoman.com or your local bookstore. Contact the authors for retreats, speaking engagements or personal questions about your own alchemical journey through
Savanah@RamonaRubio.com or 541-488-0060.nnn