Magical Processes
Seemingly.
Tools of an alchemist:
If you are a pet lover, have ever, or currently, loved a pet to the point you cannot tell them apart from actual blood relatives, then I trust you’ll understand everything here. If you are not a pet lover, I can’t help you. I will feel sorry for you, though.
al·che·my /ˈalkəmē/
noun
the medieval forerunner of chemistry, based on the supposed transformation of matter. It was concerned particularly with attempts to convert base metals into gold or to find a universal elixir.
"occult sciences, such as alchemy and astrology"
Similar: chemistry, magic, sorcery, witchcraft, enchantment
a seemingly magical process of transformation, creation, or combination.
"finding the person who's right for you requires a very subtle alchemy"
(Oxford English Dictionary, 2024)
jour·ney /ˈjərnē/
noun
an act of traveling from one place to another.
"she went on a long journey"
Similar: trip, expedition, period of traveling, tour, trek, voyage, cruise
Greatest rock band of the 80’s
(Oxford English Dictionary, 2024)
(Okay, I added #2 myself. But still, TRUTH!)
As with most writers, let alone those who push out columns, articles, essays, or blogs with scheduled regularity, I chose the title of my Substack with intention. I do believe, as the paleontologist/Jesuit priest Pierre Teilhard de Chardin had shared:
“We are not human beings having spiritual experiences. We are spiritual beings having human experiences.”
ALL this is the Alchemy of My Journey.
We, each, are on our own unique human journeys. No one else can have the journey I’m on. And if I take this journey seriously, and try to live it with a sense of purpose and excellence, then it is imperative I take every single experience I have, all unique to me, and turn them into me—turn them into the person I intend to become (and I’m always becoming): the best version of my best self. THIS is alchemy: “a seemingly magical process of transformation.” This is our human reality—every experience we have becomes a part of us—whether we like them or not, whether we plan for them or not, whether we gain fame from them or not, whether they cause us joy… or not. And about that last one….
The Not Joy one
If done, like I said, with purpose, then everything that happens to me, happens for me. Every experience can be for my benefit. This means I have undergone a process of reflection, growth, change, and transformation so that my life has become more rich, more interesting, more human… more me. It’s easy, when life is easy, to live this way. It’s easy to alchemize all the good stuff: “I got a raise!” Yay me! “I got a promotion!” Yay me! “I got married!” Yay me! “I have a healthy family!” Yay me! “Someone gave me a nice compliment!” Yay me! “My sourdough loaf turned out great!” Yay me! “Costco’s having a sale!” Yay me! “The Seahawks won the Super Bowl (circa 2014).” Yay me! (Yes, I helped them do that!!!). It’s easy to believe and see how every positive thing that happens to us makes us better—by making us happier, more content, more satisfied. It’s easy to see how we benefit from all that. That’s the easy part of alchemy—when the ingredients are abundant, and fresh, and new, and exciting, and fun.
But every single one of us knows that’s not all there is to the human journey. Cuz to be on the human journey means, by default, we’re going to have experiences we’d rather not have. I have experiences I’d rather not have.
I, my family, had an experience a couple weeks ago we’d rather not have had—even though we knew we were going to have a version of it at some point in the future.
Side note: the original name of this Substack was “Dad’s Journey Home.” My attempt to chronicle, mainly for family, the experiences my Dad was having, here with us, as he lived his final days with his companions Dementia and Parkinson’s. THAT shared journey was filled with joy even as it was sometimes very hard. Even when at his last breath, with my wife and my brother, together with me, we were holding his hands and breathing with him. While telling him we loved him and it was okay for him to go now. Even when he finally did.
Dying and death can be positive experiences—we proved that in support of my Dad’s process of letting go. Positive doesn’t mean we like them, or have to. Positive is simply the literal polar opposite of negative—and Dad’s death, as we lived it, wasn’t negative. THAT would have been awful had we not helped him do his death well; had we not lived his death well.
(Many ignore the bad experiences, or run from them, or resist them. This is not healthy—although not an explicit point of this writing, maybe this is another point of this writing.)
Death is going to happen regardless of how we feel about it (sorry for stating the obvious). We might as well understand the choice we have to alchemize experiences, like death, in a way that makes us better for having experienced them, through the even tough experiences of those we loved. Which brings me to the question I’ve been struggling with these past few weeks.
THE Question
How can this unexpected death, not his life with all the joys and laughter and wiggly-butt silliness, but his death, in the most unexpected and confusing and disorienting of ways, of this beloved soul who was an intimate part of our lives for the past almost 14 years, how can his disappearance from our lives, this way, be of any kind of benefit FOR me?
I truly believe every experience is an ingredient in the alchemy of my life. I’ve chosen to see this as my journey. I’ve said this many times over the span of this Substack’s life. But I’ve been struggling with this question in the context of the inexplicable death of our pet dog, Sammy.
I’m still struggling with it but I’m also gaining some clarity into how this heartbreaking experience was in any way for me. I do not say this in a selfish manner, I hope you all can see that. I try hard not to place myself in the center of the universe, to not make everything, even anything, about me. That’s not what I mean by this concept. Rather, it’s about how to personally make sense, for me and me only, of an experience so that having lived through it also means I’m the better for having done so. It’s not to mean anyone else, certainly not my wife or kids who lived with Sammy for the same amount of time I did, should alchemize his death my way. I cannot do that to anyone—no one can alchemize an experience for anyone else. That’s both the blessing and curse of the human journey. That’s also the place where spirit resides—and wherever spirit resides, there shall be pain, and heartbreak, and sadness, and deep grief: a realm of the journey synonymous with Soul.
And there shall also be grace.
Steve Jobs, in his famous Stanford commencement address in 2005, said:
“You can’t connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something – your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. Because believing that the dots will connect down the road will give you the confidence to follow your heart even when it leads you off the well worn path; and that will make all the difference.”
This is grace, personified. I’m still too close to this experience of Sammy to connect all the dots—but I’m connecting some. Doing so is how we make sense of the world; doing so with a full heart and the intention of growing from them each, is how we come to understand in life there are no problems, there is nothing negative, that everything in life happens for us. When I’ve connected most of the dots of Sammy, I intend to write about it. To honor what his life meant to us, to given him the dignity his life deserves, I have to get that right. Which means I have to fully understand the lessons he’s given us, first. Like with my actual cooking in our kitchen, with every meal, I have to surface LOVE in order to make the meal taste its best—it’s THE essential ingredient. Here, I have to manifest LOVE to fully incorporate, to fully alchemize, Sammy’s death into my life. And I’m not there yet. “Grief is a form of loving that which has passed from view (Stephen Jenkinson).” Right now, the weight of grief is still out of balance with that of love. But I trust that balance will come, later if not sooner.
Seeing the human journey this way, as I’m realizing more and more, means there are no negatives in life. My life of purpose means in my world, there are no problems; challenges, of course, but no problems. This is the Alchemy of My Journey.
And yes, pain is involved. A breaking heart hurts. I trust as well that alchemy will heal the break even as I know there will be left, a scar.
What is the spiritual meaning of alchemy?
the act of inner transformation
Spiritual Alchemy is the act of inner transformation. It is healing and freeing the inner parts of ourselves that need to be changed. By transforming these parts of us, it leads to inner liberation, the freedom from our fears, beliefs that no longer serve us, soul loss, and other self-destructive disorders.
(Google search, 2024)
Spiritual Alchemy is the anecdote to self-destructive disorders. Grief is NOT a self-destructive disorder—unless it doesn’t get properly alchemized. This has been a part of my Journey these last few weeks—and maybe soon I’ll come to a place where I’ll say: “and I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.”
Just, not yet. Sammy’s been a tough teacher these past few weeks.
If you are a pet lover, have ever or currently love a pet to the point you cannot tell them apart from actual blood relatives, then I trust you’ve understood everything here. If you are not a pet lover, see…? I still can’t help you. I do feel sorry for you, though.
Everything here is a part of your Journey too.
Always and Ubuntu,
~ kert
And with Ahimsa!
🙏🏼
A big yes to this and to you, Kert. " how to personally make sense, for me and me only, of an experience so that having lived through it also means I’m the better for having done so." This is what helps to make us just a bit more wise and understanding about each of our journeys. We gain a new perspective with each new experience. That is a gift and a blessing in my world. It's one more reason I call my post "From Both Sides Now."
Love your Journey. I mean the Journey. I was listening to them like crazy on my tape cassette Walkman in 1983 in Honolulu and then they showed up for the final shows of their massive World Tour…they chose to end in Hawaii so they could vacation. They did a few shows. I went to the final one and they brought out a giant cake on stage to celebrate at the end. The girl I brought became my girlfriend that night. Good alchemy!