The Spagyric Report Returns

(The work has been ongoing, but the blogging-well, you know...)

Back in October, when the Sun, the Moon and Venus were all in Libra, I put together the ingredients for the Venus tincture, 1/4 ounce of home grown and dried rose petals, even divided between pink and white (currently, we do not grow any other color roses) and the Everclear. 1/4 ounce doesn't sound like a lot, but when you are talking dried flower petals, the volume is significant.

My notes read: The pink roses had faded to sepia, except on the inside bases of the petals where they were still pink. The white rose petals were still white, except at the very edges of the petals, where they were beginning to brown. There was a very strong fragrance of rose as I crushed the petals. Once in the jar, with the Everclear poured over the rose petals the scent of the flowers became even more pronounced, as if the scent molecules were being carried aloft by any instantly evaporating alcohol. The Everclear picked up an almost gold tinge, but mostly seemed to magnify and emphasize the details of the petals in the jar. I wrapped the jar tightly, labeled it, and put it aside.

And there is sat, for months and months. When I first started this project, I went by the directions I had been given, having no experience with spagyrics. The time frame for the creation of each tincture was pretty short-as long as the moon phase was appropriate for the part of the job to be done, the actual time elapsed didn't seem that important. But as I've gone along, I've gotten far better as listening to the herb and tincture and working on that time frame. And Venus kept saying "Not yet. Patience." (so has Sun, which, as you may note, does not yet have a dropper bottle.)

This spring, with Venus, Sun and Mercury in Taurus was time. In fact, maybe having to do with the Moon in Leo, it was quite emphatically time. Six months had elapsed since I had put the herbs up to steep, but from the sensations I was getting from the bottle, I wouldn't have been surprised in the least had it been 9 months (I was a little disappointed, when looking at my notes and the calendar, that it wasn't 9 months.)

When I strained the rose petals out of the liquid, they crumbled and nearly disintegrated under their own weight. The menstruum was a deep gold, and the scent was heady and very sweet, but not noticeably rose-like. When lit, the petals burned to a fine ash very quickly, and once cooled, dissolved into the purified water without any residue. The crystals that formed out of the evaporated water were colorless, but very very bright. They were even and consistent in shape, and (for once!) easy to scrape out of the plate and back into the menstruum.


The taste/use/effect of this tincture? It is all sweet things, but not cloying. There is no scent or taste of roses, instead imagine the most perfectly ripe persian or honeydew melon. In fact, it brought to mind the idea of "round." Not a circle, a sphere. Whole. A deep, unrestricted breath. The idea that all the ideas, all the symbols that artists and mystics try to cram into the Empress Card of the tarot is sitting in this little dropper bottle, waiting for me so that I might know them.

Somehow, "cool stuff" just doesn't cover it.

The Sun! The Sun!

Sun in Leo, on Sunday, July 26th, at 2:15 pm, Sun hour. It had been gray and damp and rainy all day (week? summer?), but as I started collecting my tools and ingredients, the sun came out. After I gathered everything I needed, I went outside, into my circle and just tried to absorb the sun. I stood there, feeling it fill me, until my vision went red, then orange, then yellow, and it was coming from me, out, as well as from above.

This tincture is made with dried orange peel, from oranges that we had eaten last winter, after the solstice. The oranges were washed before we peeled them, and then I removed the pith and set the peels out to dry. Once they were dry, I sealed them in a canning jar until I was ready for this project. When I put the peels in the mortar, they were dry enough to snap and break, but they were still full of oil. Rather than grinding them, I had to pound them, hence the large granite mortar, rather than one of the smaller ones. The smell was amazing, full of heat and sunshine.

This is the tincture, after adding the Everclear and then agitating the jar. Unlike several of the other tinctures (Mercury, Saturn, Jupiter) this one did not change color immediately.

I didn't look forward to starting this with much enthusiasm. I think that I was feeling a bit put off still by the feel of the Lunar tincture, which at the New Moon on July 21st was still very "Don't Touch." I was wondering; was it just the nature of the Lunar Tincture? The herb I chose to use? The fact that the herb came from my Mother in Laws garden and had been picked by her for me? (yes, that last thought garnered me a strange look from DH) Now, I think that it was a combination of things, the nature of the tincture and the fact that this most recent New Moon was ALSO a Cancer Moon, just as the Moon was, when I started it. To everything there is a season, right? Things seem a bit cozier with both Sun and Moon tinctures going through their cohabitation phases next to one another...

Chatty Planets

Last week saw the Solstice, Fathers Day and the New Moon, and while the Solstice might be Mid-Summer in the Celtic lands on the other side of the Atlantic, here in the North East of the United States, it is the start of the summer season. Life is slowing down, even as it is burgeoning. The summer gardens are delayed, because of all the cool weather and rain we've had, but the lavender is busy with bees, and nearly ready for harvest.

The week also saw completion in the making of the Mercury tincture. The salts were intensely fine grained, like sanding sugar and had no apparent pattern in the pan where they were formed. They scraped into a fine powder, without adhering to the glass, and were moved easily (eagerly?) into the menstruum. This Wednesday I will use the tincture for the first time. Four completed, three to go.

The Mars tincture had (and has) an amazing "You need Me" sense to it. The Mercury tincture has been very communicative almost from the moment it was first jarred. It told me when any step was finished and it was time to move on. Monday night, after the New Moon in Cancer, during the Lunar hour, I started work on the Moon tincture. Camphor. And again, I got a very clear message. This one was: Don't Touch Me.

Saps and distillates from Camphor can be poisonous, but I am working with the leaves. It was the leaves that were basically saying "hands off." They did not want to be ground, or mashed or torn or cut up, but once I acquiesced and started placing the whole leaves in the jar, the atmosphere lightened somewhat. I suspect at this point, that this will be a tincture of Artemis (and not She of Ephesus), of Circe, of Medea, rather than any of the more "generous" full Moon deities. Time will tell.

So, strong messages from Moon, Mars and Mercury, but not from Jupiter or Saturn. My first thought with Mars was that I really needed the Mars energy to balance out my sphere. And then, well, what else could you expect from the planet of the Messenger but conversation? I supposed it could be argued that I have been working with the Moon for so long, that Of Course, She would come through loud and clear. But when you add all that to the lack of any specific message from either Jupiter or Saturn, I think something else comes into play. The further out planets, and their specific energies just do not relate as easily to day to day humanity. Bigger, further away and slower (from our point of view) our issues just may not be seen in the same way to their spirits as the spirits of the planets that we are more intimate with.

On the other hand, it is possible that as I go along, I just get better at what I am doing. That with each tincture, I find it easier to attune myself earlier in the project. It that is the case, then the Venus project should prove very interesting indeed.

Fast! Salad!

(repeat refrain) With each tincture, I am amazed at how different each one is from the others and how they each reflect the planetary powers of which they partake. (end refrain)


So the words for Mercury seem to be fast and salad.

Fast makes sense. The planet moves quickly. Hermes/Mercury is the Divine Messenger, it wouldn't do for him to dawdle. This tincture was quick work (well, its still quick work, not being entirely done). The herb is home grown oregano, carefully harvested and dried for this specific purpose. It pulverized easily in the granite mortar, in fact, I had to be careful to not grind it into a powder. Upon pouring the Everclear over it, it was bleached of its color almost entirely. Jar sealed, wrapped in foil and labeled, it "talked" to me, reminding me of its presence several times a day. Unlike the previous tinctures, I never felt the need to unwrap it to check fluid levels, I knew it was fine. I also knew that yesterday would be the day for calcinating-even before I saw the weather report. (it was the only day it hasn't rained this month). The oregano only macerated for 22 days, but it was ready. (for those wondering, from May 27 to June 17). The calcination was fast. The fumes from the alcohol caught the flame from the torch and the leaves burned to pale grey ash immediately. I only finished it up on the stove because the wind had some up and I was afraid of the ash blowing away. But it only took another 5 minutes on the stove top for the pale grey ash to turn white. The whole step of calcination took a total of 10 minutes. When the ash was cool, I mixed it with distilled water, filtered it and put it aside. Already, this morning, I could see little clouds of crystal floating in the dish.

Salad. That is what the liquid smells like, a green mixed salad. The menstruum is a deep blue-green and has the smell of a bowl of assorted lettuces. I'm still working this part out, but I think it may have more to do with Greek Hermes, than Roman Mercury. I've come across references to the "fluid sexuality" of Hermes, and for reasons, I am not sure of, the metaphor of the mixed salad seems "right" for that. As for the lettuce...we have here the power of (and over) commerce and trade, could it be as blunt as that? Lettuce, greenbacks, money? Or, is it more fluid (that word again)? We have the God of law and thieves, psychopomp and fluid (ok, now I am using the word just to make myself grin) sexuality. Lettuce has been used as both an aphrodisiac and an anaphrodisiac. Depending on the body chemistry of the person imbibing, the sap can be used as a mild sedative or a mild intoxicant. Swings both ways, as it were.

It may be that I will get more information when the tincture is ready for use. I hope so. I have to wait for the rest of the water to evaporate, leaving me the salts to return to the menstruum. Considering the speed of this project to this point, I suspect that it won't be long before I will be able to do so. Should be interesting.

Mars

If I ever thought that these planetary tinctures would be the same process, seven times over, I have, again, been corrected. Jupiter was a cinch, Saturn (in Capricorn) was earthy and needed extra purifying and filtering. And Mars?
More than the first two, this tincture I felt a real need for-to better balance the parts of my personality, perhaps. When I first assembled it to macerate, I felt that it could be possible for me to understand why Hannibal crossed the Alps and Caesar, the Rubicon. The jar felt hot in my hands, right from the very start. Even as I coveted the drive, passion and power that was inherent, I could also sense the danger. But I wanted it, anyway.

But, true to the Mars personality, this project has been a battle. I could not do the calcination on the original date because my area of New Jersey was under drought warning and a high alert for fires. Considering that snow melt and flood is a more usual problem in the spring, this is highly unusual. And, because I use Everclear at 190 proof for the menstruum, I didn't dare attempt the burn inside the house.

The day after I had wanted to do the calcination it started to rain, and rain, and rain (weather spell? What weather spell? I just had a little talk with a couple of entities about the danger of drought). It rained for a full week. The no burn regulation was lifted and this past Tuesday night, Mars hour, I took my bowl of alcohol soaked ginger root chips outside to ignite. (The picture is above) But no sooner did I have it lit, than the rain started again. The rain didn't bother the alcohol burn off, but that was it, no glowing coals, no smoldering, no ash. Just damp little black charcoals chips made from ginger. Damp and blackened-that pretty much describes how I felt at this point in the project.

The moon will be full very early Saturday morning (12:01am) and I had wanted to be done with this before then. Rummaging through my pantry, I was able to jury-rig a pretty good crucible, and for the last two days I've worked on reducing the coal to ash and then refining the ash. It will be done on time.

Dogged and determined, I can do (even if I don't enjoy it much), but that is rather earthy, not fiery. So the question is: at what point does determination shade into drive, push and yes, power? Should I have spent more time with that (possible) salamander, last year?

The Saturn Salts-redone

I don't know. I see trees, or maybe one tree (a banyan?) here. But then, I'm inclined to see trees and living things. I don't know why the salts formed in this pattern. And, yes, there is a very fine covering of salt crystals in the "empty areas" between the trunks and the top. The crystals themselves, are very fine, just deposited unevenly. Unlike the Jupiter salts, which had a hard, bright sparkle to them, these have a soft creamy look to them.

Saturn Salts

The Saturn in Capricorn salts finally crystallized. They were coarse, non uniform in size or pattern, dirty yellow, and had black flakes in them. Really ugly.

So, I scraped them up, and redissolved them in more distilled water. Again, the water turned pale yellow/green. I filtered the water and the water turned yet more green. So, I did it once more, and the water turned even greener. I washed the glass pan that I've been using for the crystallization process, and this time, I rinsed the pan with the distilled water, just to be on the safe side. I poured the salt solution back in the pan (without wiping it dry, that way there would be no issue of something from the towel contaminating it) and now, I am back to waiting.

Tincture # 2 Saturn in Capricorn

The non-Magical community thinks we are crazy. Last night by about 8:15, I was inclined to agree. There I was, in the dark, in the snow, with another storm approaching, standing bundled against the 14 degree cold (but with the wind chill feeling more like 1 degree below zero) trying to keep a bowl of chopped leaves burning and smoldering. There were definitely moments when I wondered about my sanity.

If I thought that this tincture project would be 7 identical operations, with only the herbs being the variant, I learned otherwise. The menstruum are different. Jupiter is emerald green, Wizard of Oz, Emerald City, emerald green. Saturn is forest green. Last month, the lemon balm burned beautifully, and took very little coaxing to smolder to the white ash stage. The comfrey? Oh, the alcohol burned off quickly enough, but that was it. I then spent the next hour and a half (in that lovely weather) with a long nozzled lighter heating the comfrey and encouraging it to light. The lemon balm burned from the center, out. The comfrey would light in a ring at the circumference of the material, and the coals would not spread. Another difference was the odor of the smoke. The lemon balm smelled like burning herbs and was pretty evocative of certain teenage and young adult years. The comfrey smoke was far more acrid. It smelled of the barnyard, with under notes of over ripe bananas.

While I am quite sure that there are common place reasons for the different behaviors, the different ways the calcinations played out were very much in tune with the planetary, elemental and herbal powers. Of course the fiery Jupitor herb calcined more easily than the earthy Saturnian one. And, it does make sense that the Capricornian herb smelled more of barn yard than the lemon balm.

At 9pm, I came inside (I started at 7:30). I had a bowl of coarse gray ash, not the fine white material I had hoped for, but my fingers were far too numb to use the lighter anymore. I covered the bowl, so no foreign material could get into it, and took a most marvelous hot shower.

I finished the calcination today, using the oven. First, I broke up the large pieces of material that were still evident in the bowl, then put it in the oven (set for 450 degrees) for an hour. Luckily for the utilities bill, that was all it took. After it cooled, I ground the ashes, mixed them with distilled water, and then filtered the water. Here, too, was a difference from the last tincture. The "sludge" filtered from the Jupiter tincture was brown, from the Saturn tincture, it was gray. The filtered solution from the Jupiter tincture was clear. The solution from the Saturn tincture had a faint colored tinge to it. So I filtered it again, and again, and then a fourth time. And with every filtering, the solution became more colored. After the fourth filtering it was clearly a bright citrine (the color of the gemstone, not the Golden Dawn muddy color).

I had intended to take a picture of the salts in the pan from the last tincture as they had made such a beautiful pattern. However, in my great enthusiasm for the project, I forgot. I hope to remember this time around.

When this tincture is finished, I will have a several month break before I start the next one (Mars in Aries). Then, it will be pretty steady work through the summer. This first round will be planetaries, but already DH is encouraging me to try working with all the zodiac signs. Knowing how many people work without the encouragment and interest of their spouses and partners, I thought I might say now (and forever) how grateful I am to have his support of my interests.

My Christmas Fire

No fragrant logs in the fireplace, no roasting chestnuts, I know, I just had to be different. :-)


In reality, this was the ashing stage of my spagyric project that I've been unintentionally coy about. I started the project at sunrise on Thanksgiving, which was also the morning of the New Moon in Sagittarius. Sun, in Sag, Moon in Sag, hour of Jupiter-not bad for the starting of a Jupiter tincture, I think. The lemon balm was homegrown (at last, a use for an herb that was making my pantry smell like furniture polish!) and organic, and when I added the Everclear, the liquid turned the most fantastic gemstone green. I sealed it, and wrapped it carefully, and everyday, I shook it gently. Christmas day was the 4 week anniversary. It was also the last day of Jupiter before the New Moon. I've no idea how important that is to traditional alchemy, but the moon has been my calendar for long enough that I can't not take it into account.

Since DH had to work on Christmas evening, we "did" our Christmas the night before and in the morning, leaving me the night of Christmas for this work. It was surprising to me how "dry" the lemon balm felt, even as I could see the liquid dripping through the coffee filters. I didn't bother to dry it in the oven. One, it looked and felt pretty dry. Two, I have a gas oven, and having blown the door open when baking fruitcake, I was convinced that putting Everclear in the oven was a sure method for a large explosion.

So, lemon balm in stainless steel bowl, boots on my feet (we still had about 4 to 5 inches of snow on the ground), I went out into the yard. Not surprisingly, all I needed to do was place the (looooong nozzled) lighter near the herb and it lit up. It was a beautiful and very large bright blue flame. It was a long lasting, large bright blue flame. Long lived enough for me to take pictures (fumbling with gloves and the flash control) and really really hope that my neighbors didn't decide to call the police. And then, the flames died down and it began to smolder and smoke. At which point, I actively began to pray that my neighbors wouldn't call the police-burning herbs smell like burning herbs, if you know what I mean.

All in all, I was out there, in the snow, in 20 degree weather, for an hour, before the last of the embers died. But at least, when I brought the bowl in, I could see that the ashes were white, white white, so no further heating was necessary. There wasn't even any real need for grinding the ashes at this point. I mixed them with distilled water, and filtered it through yet more coffee filters. What truly astounded me at this point was the brown mud that was left in the coffee filters afterwards-where did that come from?

At this point, I have a glass pie pan with these amazingly beautiful crystallized salts in it. I am going to try to get a couple of pictures of that, before I add them back to the menstruum. And, Thursday, I will get to sample my work.

NB: I am very glad that sunrise is so late at this time of year. This past Saturday morning, I got up at dawn (Sun in Cap, New Moon in Cap, day of Saturn), and started the process with comfrey...