On the Path of alchemical Fusion

Trilogy ‘Lessons of Master G’. Book III.

On the Path of alchemical Fusion

Konstantin Serebrov

Serebrov Boeken Publishing, The Hague

© Serebrov Boeken, The Hague, 2018

Publisher: Guram Kochi

Telephone: +31 70 352 15 65

E-mail: [email protected]

Website: www.serebrovboeken.nl

English translation of the chapters 6-13 of the Russian book ‘Мистический Андеграунд’ by Konstantin Serebrov, Moscow, 2001

1st edition: ‘On the Path of alchemical Fusion’, 2006

2d edition: ‘On the Path of alchemical Fusion’, 2017

ISBN: 978-90-77820-57-5

Editor of the 1st edition: Robin Winckel-Mellish c. s.

Editor of the 2d edition: Gouri Gozalov c. s.

Translators: Gouri Gozalov: ch. 1,7; Oxana Dovbnya: ch. 2 - 6, 8

Proof-reading: Gouri Gozalov

Translation of Admiral’s songs: Gouri Gozalov

Design: Konstantin Serebrov, Gouri Gozalov, Maria Toonen

The illustrations used in this book have been taken from the alchemical treaties of the 17th century: Viatorum, Tripus Aureus and Atalanta fugiens by M. Maier; The Twelve Keys of Basil Valentine; De Lapide philosophico by Lambsprinck; Mutus Liber, courtesy of Bibliotheca Philosophica Hermetica, Amsterdam a.k.a. J.R. Ritman Library. Reprinted with the permission of the J. R. Library.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy and recording, or stored in a retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher.

This book is in memory of Vladimir Stepanov a.k.a. Master G

Table of Contents

List of Illustrations

Introduction by the Translator

Chapter 1. The School Space in the City of Fools

Chapter 2. Initiation by Women

Chapter 3. The invisible Town of Thule

Chapter 4. The Confrontation between mystical Ladies

Chapter 5. Cool Jazz and working on Oneself

Chapter 6. The Games of Lady Hyacintha

Chapter 7. The thirteenth Arcanum

Chapter 8. Admiral’s Pirate’s Leaven

Endnotes

Books by Konstantin Serebrov

List of Illustrations

Illustration 1. (Cover image) Two angels, who help the Master of Alchemy to carry out the process of transformation in the souls of his disciples, hold a sealed vessel with an androgyne in it in their hands. According to the alchemical teaching androgyne symbolises the fusion of on the one hand the qualities of fiery aspiration towards the Highest, the God and productivity on the spiritual Path, which belong to the male origin and on the other hand the warmth, receptiveness and ability of soaring in the higher spheres, which belong to the female origin. This fusion takes place within a disciple’s soul after his or her undergoing several alchemical treatments.

Androgyne holds in his hand a trident, which indicates three-folded cleansing, that of body, soul and spirit. The vessel is thoroughly sealed because androgyne’s substance is highly volatile and evaporates almost instantly under the impact of heightened alchemical temperature, that is the tests.

Illustration 2. In order to follow the Path of Ascension an inner balance between the female and male origins should be obtained.

Illustration 3. The Master and his apprentice take off the coffin’s cover in order to investigate whether the Quick (female origin in Alchemy) and the Brimstone (male origin in Alchemy) are cleansed sufficiently for their Alchemical Marriage yet to come.

Illustration 4. The heavenly angels help the neophyte’s resurrection from ashes after his meeting with death.

Illustration 5. It is necessary for the alchemical transformation of a disciple to unite within him- or herself the purified Brimstone and Quicksilver. After the primary attraction of a disciple to the earthly life is reduced to ashes, he must put himself under the influence of the mystical Sun and mystical Moon.

Illustration 6. The highest male and female principles guide a disciple towards Heavenly evolution.

Illustration 7. The Heavenly Androgyne

Illustration 8. After the repeated purification of the Black Pearl the pure Heavenly Virgin is born from it.

Illustration 9. Hope lies in the Lord’s Cross and Illumination comes through the Holy Spirit.

Illustration 10. Sublimation, which takes place in the presence of a refined female origin.

Illustration 11. The fire of The Absolute, of the Holy Trinity

Illustration 12. Death and Resurrection

Illustration 13. The Rubedo stage which stands for the birth of the Alchemical King, whose soul possesses in abundance the Cosmic Gold.

Illustration 14. Five kneeling neophytes, which are in alchemical terms the ‘common metals’, like lead, copper, iron, tin and bronze, pleading for God’s blessing for them to undergo the process of transmutation and to become gold eventually.

Illustration 15. The last stage of the Alchemical Work is the augmentation of the Philosopher’s Stone. The Red King transmits the alchemical tradition to his disciples.

Illustration 16. The light of the Anima Mundi guides the alchemists who follow the Christian Way.

Introduction by the Translator

The novel ‘On the Path of alchemical Fusion’ is the final book of the trilogy ‘Lessons of Master G’. It relates the further acquaintance of Kasyan and Gouri with G’s former followers. The intrigues of an ‘alchemical court’ that G, as a part of his mission, created in Moscow, strongly amplifies the contradictions and conflicts between Kasyan and Gouri. G teaches Kasyan and Gouri how to keep inner contact with the Ray of the School, and with each other.

After passing through the ‘alchemical fire’ Kasyan and Gouri receive their first alchemical initiation. This initiation opens the mysteries of the alchemical stage of Nigredo for them. The astralized space of this stage is described in the supplement Adventures of Master G and his faithful disciples Morose and Bitumen in the Nigredo Valley, or Modern Alchemy, which will be published soon.

In order to follow the alchemical Path of Master G further, the light Path of ascension, they have to undergo the next alchemical stage, which is the stage of purification called Albedo. This stage and its various techniques for the purification of the soul and the sublimation of perception are described in the books of the series called ‘Alchemical Teachings’, ‘Inner Light’ and ‘Inner Christianity’.

Gouri Gozalov c.s.

The Hague, May 2017

Chapter 1. The School Space in the City of Fools

The train arrived in the City of Fools at ten o’clock in the morning. I picked up my bag and went to Nika by tram. The spring was in full swing. I enjoyed looking through the tram’s window to watch how the breeze rocked the poplar boughs.

I quickly found the house, which was already familiar to me, and I entered its cool porch. After I rang the doorbell for several minutes, a man of about forty, dressed in a white singlet and casual trousers, opened the door.

‘I can’t believe she could get involved with such a crude bumpkin,’ I thought crossly for a moment.

‘What do you want from me?’ The hefty chap asked as he drew near.

‘Actually, I am looking for Nika…’ I took a step back.

‘She moved to another place a while ago.’ With these words, he slipped a small note with her new address into my hand.

After one and a half hours of searching, I stopped at a small house in the private sector and I carefully opened a squeaking wicket. The white narcissuses grew abundantly in the garden on both sides of the winding narrow cement path. A dog jumped at me and began to bark furiously. A brisk old woman came out and reluctantly calmed the dog.

‘Are you the person from whom Nika rents a room?’ I asked the question without delay.

‘Well, yes, she rents it from me,’ she answered, loosening her hold on the dog a little. ‘But persons of masculine gender are not admitted to see her,’ she added spitefully.

‘It’s always this sort of hag,’ I thought for a moment, ‘that hinder the brave seeker to advance further on the Path.’

‘He’ll stay just a moment!’ Nika exclaimed with a smile, appearing in the doorway.

My heart trembled desperately.

‘Mind you don’t hide him under your bed,’ the shrew added when I entered the house with Nika.

‘It’s as if you’re under a real siege and one isn’t able to break through to reach you,’ I remarked.

‘But I do feel at peace here,’ Nika answered.

I glanced around the small cosy room. It contained a bed, a table by a window and a carpet on the wall.

‘Are you going to stay here for a long time?’ She asked as her eyes shone with love.

‘G assigned me the task to create a mystical group here and to prepare the city for his arrival.’

‘Don’t you think that he has overestimated your capacities?’ She grinned.

‘This is exactly what I have to find out,’ I parried.

‘But where did you plan to live?’

‘I would have liked to have stayed with you, but you have so cunningly shut yourself up with your old lady that the only possibility left for me is to live on the street.’

‘The old lady guards all the corners of the house, while the dog guards the front door,’ Nika said, as she poured tea for us both. ‘But as you received a special task from the Captain, I shall help you. There is a secret roundabout route to my window from the side of the stone wall. To take this passage, you have to pass through a couple of other yards that are also guarded by dogs. But I hope you will manage. I will open my window after I hear three conventional knocks. Just be careful not to summon the hostess, because her window is next to mine.’ She burst out laughing.

‘Ever since I’ve set myself on the Path, life has made sure that I won’t have a chance to relax.’

‘Don’t get upset,’ Nika encouraged me, ‘it’s the same with me…’

The hours flew by like minutes in agreeable conversation .

‘Listen, young man,’ the malcontent hostess said as she shoved her head into the room, ‘it’s time to go. It’s already eleven o’clock at night. If you don’t leave, I’ll throw you—and your young lady—out.’

Feeling sorry for myself, I left Nika and strayed for a while on the night streets, enjoying my limitless freedom as well as the radiant starry sky. I waited until one o’clock and then I climbed over the fences without drawing the attention of the guard dogs. Then I cautiously knocked at the dark window.

‘Imagine that old hag shoving her face through the window,’ I thought for a moment and became tense.

However, I was lucky: Nika appeared behind the dark glass and beckoned to me merrily.

‘Will you be able to climb through the small upper window? She inquired. ‘The window is still sealed against the winter wind.’

‘I’ll try,’ I answered, and having forced myself through the narrow opening, I fell on the floor.

‘Could you fall a little more softly?’ Nika whispered. ‘The hostess is certainly wide awake, since she constantly watches over my morality.’

‘Doesn’t matter, she’s already asleep. Don’t you hear her snoring behind the wall? However you still didn’t tell me how is it between you and Silver.’

‘Silver doesn’t write to me, and I don’t write to him, either. And for the rest, it’s all the same: university and my home. In addition, I study Gurdjieff¹ and a couple of days ago I also got Ouspensky². Without the slippery Deck of the Ship, only the utter horizontal life exists around us.’

‘Never mind,’ I remarked, ‘your life will soon pick up the first cosmic velocity.’

‘I’ve managed to get acquainted with some interesting new people,’ she said. ‘I’ll give you their telephone numbers. Like us, they are also searching for the Path to the Heavens.’

Illustration 2. In order to follow the Path of Ascension an inner balance between the female and male origins should be obtained.

Early in the morning, I slipped away unnoticeably from Nika’s room and I went into the city. My heart felt ethereal and light and I attended liturgy in the nearest church. The confession and the prayers purified my soul and I again felt nostalgia for my spiritual homeland and I was again determined to reach it. My task was not an easy one to fulfil, but I thought I could manage it with Nika’s support.

The sun shone brightly in the sky, its rays warming the streets that had become cold in the night. Some young girls walked towards me and one of them gave me a smile.

‘That’s a good sign,’ I thought and then I walked to a telephone booth.

I unfolded the note with telephone numbers Nika had given me. There were only two numbers. The first belonged to a certain Basil, while the second one was of someone whose nickname was Rikki-Tikki-Tavi. I decided to start with the latter.

When I phoned the man-mongoose, he immediately invited me to see him. He lived in an old two-story house in a blue-collar neighbourhood. As I crossed the dusty yard full of hanging linen, with children shouting and housewives quarrelling, I thought for a moment: ‘It’s probably not so easy for Rikki to strive for Enlightenment amidst all this earthly fuss.’

After I rang the doorbell, an enormous woman in a cotton apron opened the door. She told me to come inside and she nodded towards the door of the balcony. The balcony was crammed with jars of pickles and jams. In the corner was an emaciated lad in a washed-out T-shirt standing on his head. He really did resemble a brisk mongoose. He toppled over and then shook hands with me.

‘Well then, tell me about your Teacher,’ he said.

‘My Teacher is a rather tough person and it’s impossible to describe him in just a couple of words,’ I answered. ‘Therefore, it’s better to see him just once with your own eyes than to listen to stories about him hundreds of times.’

‘And my life is just rotten,’ he sighed. ‘Home, work, sausage is all that I see. I’ll spend this incarnation as an irreproachable family man, but in my next incarnation I really must be born a Tibetan monk.’

‘Why wait until the next incarnation?’ I asked, showing reserved astonishment. ‘You can still manage in your present incarnation.’

‘And what about my wife?’ He raised his frightened eyes.

‘Just leave her, and you’ll get rid of your problems.’

‘How can my dear wife live without me?’ He wailed.

‘She’ll only be happier with someone else,’ I said, glancing at his feeble frame.

‘My conscience won’t allow it,’ said Rikki cutting me off. ‘I dare say I’m a responsible man.’

‘It’s a matter of your indecisiveness rather than of your conscience,’ I remarked. ‘You’d better read The Journey to the West. In it is written everything about the kind of conscience one needs.’

‘I’ve been reading everything about it,’ he brushed my remark aside. ‘Here, under my bed there lies an entire library. Anyway, when your Master comes here, introduce me to him without fail.’

‘Come on! The laundry needs to be wrung out,’ his wife shouted as she approached the balcony and brave Rikki dragged himself obediently to the kitchen.

‘This chap sits safely under his wife’s skirt,’ I thought for a moment, ‘but I’ll still try to make a human being of him.’ I cheerfully went out in the fresh air and, finding a bench under the birch tree in the park, I took a seat there to warm myself under the bright rays of the sun. I made some short notes in my diary and then I read my notes of G’s words, to tune myself into the Ray of the School: ‘The task that we have been given is so great and so lofty, that only a few courageous people can partake of it. These are people who are bored with growing in the hothouse part of the School, performing childish exercises. Many of the School practices are meant only for the shifting of the disciples’ perception towards the awareness of hyper-physical life. And only when a disciple really participates in the hyper-physical life, when he immerses himself in the existence in the world behind the curtain, when he’s able to join in the advanced detachment of humanity, will he then make the first step on the Path he’s ascending. That is, he will pass the Guardians of the astral threshold and then he will be admitted to the Temple. Until then, all his attempts will remain in the sphere of his fantasies, and he will merely remain on the rubbish heap of cosmic life.’

I restored my spirit and then I phoned Basil.

The second candidate for boarding the Ship had settled somewhat better than the first one. He lived in a new house with his pretty young wife, but nevertheless he looked sluggish and weak.

He gladly invited me to take a seat at the table and he told me about his life, which turned out to be quite bitter: ‘When I was sixteen, I read a book by Shivananda³ about meditation. I had a passionate desire to reach the Highest Freedom by means of the practice of meditation. I’ve spent hundreds of hours meditating. Sometimes, I’ve even been able to reach my Highest Self, and my dull world is transformed into cosmic abysses that I never wish to leave.

In order to keep the proper posture during meditation I used to tie a rope around myself and thus remained in a trance for long periods of time. Once my grandmother stopped by. When she saw me in a state that seemed queer to her, she phoned the ambulance. The hospital orderlies immediately took me to the madhouse. When the doctors in the madhouse found out that I strove for the Enlightenment, they injected me with so much aminazin⁴ that I couldn’t walk anymore and my arms and legs constantly jerked in all directions.

However, a young nurse, Vera, helped me. With great difficulty, she took me away from this awful institution and under her own responsibility she brought me to her house and she provided me with everything I needed. It took two years for me to come to my senses, I had to learn to walk again, to relearn how to read, and how to write. Consider that: this woman just saved my life. Now Vera has become my wife and my disciple all in one…’

I looked sorrowfully at Basil. Well, he had bad luck. To me, he resembled a formless jelly that couldn’t concentrate its consciousness on one point in order to become a human being again. No, Basil wasn’t fit for the discipleship; he belonged to the party of those wounded on the battlefield. Now he should take a seat in the rear, because only the healthy ones are fit to stand on the front-line. I bade farewell and left, but I still had the hope of preparing at least two people—Rikki and Basil—to meet G.

It was still too early to return to Nika so I went to the city park. I wanted to immerse myself in the themes of my conversations with G, in order to strengthen my link with his teaching and in order to attune myself to higher vibrations. I began to read in my diary: ‘…And only when a disciple fulfils on the Earth the tasks which are given to him by a higher Egregor can he really work on himself. Then the real difficulties come and death becomes his adviser on the Path. Then for the first time, the door to the real cosmic life will open. There, not only the warm southerly winds blow, but also the icy northerly winds are active. Before that, all of his prayers to the higher Deity and variegated exercises have had a purely secular shade. This becomes evident through that ennobled falsity which comes from our bodily needs, or from the needs of our soul. Only when a disciple would join in the Egregor’s life, will he begin his ascension on the Golden Ladder.

However, the hothouse part of the School is something that is necessary. During the decennia it prepares the weak human spirit for the real cosmic life, where there is no room for weakness, self-pity and self-justification, and where it is necessary to pay for everything with one’s own blood.

If one performs the breathing exercises and prays on time, then one works along the first line. If one helps one’s friends, then one works along the second line. And if one keeps Heaven above earth in a correct manner (which means to conduct through oneself the wind of the higher Egregor), then that is the third line of work. This is the point where the real battle with oneself starts—not a toy-battle, but a genuine fight. There is no room here for cheap tricks instead of real learning. Everything really happens there. It is the approach to the forward position on the front-line, where the projectiles are flying and where there is always the risk of perishing.’

I looked around. The evening sun peacefully shone above me, the chestnut leaves slightly trembled from the tender breeze and the birds sang to one another.

‘I want so badly to get on the cosmic forward position!’ I thought for a moment.

Besides the task of preparing a group of mystics for G’s arrival, I had another thing to do: to earn enough money for the next year of my studies. I decided to phone Golden-Blue, since she had promised to help me.

One hour later, Golden-Blue and I paced quickly along the quayside. The snow-white cutters glided on the river and my heart sang because such a charming lady was walking next to me.’

‘I shall take you to a friend of mine, who is a rather well-known painter,’ she said.

‘Does he also strive towards the Enlightenment?’ I asked in a tone of hope.

‘He strives to become a rich person,’ Golden-Blue burst out laughing, ‘and for you, contact with such a person can be useful. His name is Viacheslav, or just Artist. He knows all the ways in the social mechanics of human beings and he is a matchless guide there.’

‘But how is he going to become rich?’ I asked.

‘Artist earns money by carrying out the orders for mosaics. The main point is to find a rich customer. Artist works masterly upon the chairmen of kolkhozes⁵. He knows everything about hidden funds and about how to legally extract money from the chairmen for the financing of decoration works.’

‘It all sounds so incredibly complicated!’ I sighed.

‘You can’t compare it with your meditations, can you?’ Golden-Blue burst out laughing.

We reached the neglected house. Growing under its windows were nettles and onions that had gone wild.

‘Hello,’ Golden-Blue said, nodding towards a young man who stood smoking his cigarette on the balcony of the first floor.

I glanced at him. He was the spitting image of Ostap Bender⁶.

‘My greetings to the poor in spirit,’ he responded, taking me in at a glance. ‘Come in.’

We entered and one hour later my ‘attic’ had already begun to come down.

‘Financial stalking is a great thing,’ he began telling me. ‘Without it, you will always remain poor and you will always work for others and not for yourself.’

‘I don’t think it has a major importance,’ I objected. ‘You see, the entire manifested world is just one of the Brahma dreams, and one should get out of it at any cost and reach the Enlightenment.

‘What prevents the great Brahma from seeing a dream in which we would be rich persons?’ Artist asked in return. ‘Only we ourselves hinder that. If you want to be a stalker then it’s not enough just to read Castaneda. You should also be a warrior in the social life. If you want to learn something, then you should go with me to the Regional Party Committee, to wrangle an order from them.’

‘How can I be useful in this at all?’ I was astonished.

‘You will accompany me in order to make our business look solid. You understand nothing of this life and I’m going to teach you the art of social stalking.

I spent the night at Artist’s, and the next morning we set out on the new ‘Moskvitch’⁷ to visit the Regional Party Committee, Executive Committee and other institutions of this kind.

‘One more talk,’ Artist said, wiping the sweat from his forehead after his conversation with yet another official, ‘and he will loosen his purse-strings to pay for our mosaic. Let’s visit him one more time tomorrow.’

However, the next day, it was all the same. Nothing happened but the mere passing of time. I knew that I hadn’t come even a step closer towards the Enlightenment and that my hope to earn money easily was in vain.

In the evenings the local esoterics swarmed in Artist’s flat because he promised every one of them a job. They listened with interest to my stories about the Ship, but their souls were not ready for sailing after the Golden Fleece.

‘It is a well-known fact that the spoiled esoterics are the poorest people,’ Artist had been saying, ‘for they spend all their money and all their time mining the esoteric treatises and reading about ways of penetrating into the higher worlds. However, they will never get there because the only reason they’re dying to get to the Heavens is because of their own nothingness. It seems to them that reaching the heavens would save them from the decay in which they exist in the here and now. Anyway, I teach them to work, at least.’

Since the situation with the Artist continued to delay and stagnate, I decided to phone Golden-Blue again.

‘It’s been a long time since you showed up,’ she said.

‘I’m past my best abilities in the search for candidates for the Deck Which is Not There,’ I said. ‘Would you mind helping me again?’

‘I become interesting to you only when you fail, is that not so?’ She said, grinning. ‘For the sake of strengthening your small and weak esoteric circle,’ Golden-Blue uttered heavily, ‘I suggest you meet John. You’ve forgotten obviously what I told you in Moscow about him: he’s an independent adept of the City of Fools, an organizer of the esoteric theatre and a big friend of charming actresses. Here’s his telephone number,’ she said, handing me a scrap of paper.

‘Thank you, my dear, now I’m karmically indebted to you!’

‘You’ve worked it off already,’ she answered.

‘How could I manage so quickly?’

‘You have introduced me to Silver. He’s invited me to move to Moscow.’

‘You act quickly,’ I said, astonished. It became clear to me why Silver had cut off communication with Nika.

‘Learn from me, my boy, and you will go far.’

I phoned John and I was invited to come directly to his theatre. I arrived by tram at the enormous building of the factory club where John had settled. I entered the massive oak doors. The rehearsal was just over and charming girls were flying about John like a flock of butterflies.

‘What a splendid place,’ I thought for a moment, and I cheerfully went to the stage. ‘Now I have a worthy task—helping nice actresses to reach the Enlightenment.’

‘Hello, Kasyan,’ John exclaimed, ‘Nice to see you again. How did you get here?’

‘It is necessary to prepare the city for the arrival of Brambilla’s caravan.’

‘Well, in that case, you’ve come to the right place,’ John burst out laughing.

At that moment a girl entered the stage from behind the wings and I immediately felt an extraordinary, innate power. She looked at me from under her black eyelashes in a haughty manner. Then she sat down on the chair near the wing, pulling at her cigarette as she leaned back in a tired manner.

‘This is the only woman-warrior in our city,’ John said, smiling. ‘I call her Aikido.’

She turned her face to me and said quietly: ‘When you stare at me, weird currents come from the depths of my soul.’

‘It’s because in my conscious dreams I get into very strange spheres.’

‘But I also visit the worlds behind the curtain,’ she said in an aloof manner while she blew out curling smoke. ‘And I travel in my dreams, but sometimes, because of an unknown