Everything can only be understood in its entirety, not only in the sense of vastness of topics but also of time. However, due to the limitations of the “field” of our mind we can only imagine segments. And this is not radical monism. Therefore, it is not surprising that for a long time now the too vast wisdom of the ancients has been dissected into laboratory alchemy, theurgy, philosophy and sound art: ultimately, our cognitive limits have separated physics from consciousness abilities. Yet, beyond the knowledge acquired by the individual sciences, we are left with the task of understanding. Despite the fact that philosophical views continue to vacillate from one system to another, we cannot avoid this task unless we transform ancient wisdom into meaningless chaos.
Her name meant Wisdom, but also a skill – or the intelligence of cunning – Métis was exercised on very different levels, but always for practical purposes: the bricklayer, the politician, the helmsman, the weaver… all protean realities that did not lend themselves to the immutable reasoning of abstract philosophical conjecture, and one which philosophers hastened to reject as ‘non-knowledge’. Those who are known today as pre-Socratics were simply called “the wise” in Socrates’ time, already incomprehensible for having derived mythology from physics. It is therefore necessary for the modern scholar to undertake a similar path and not disdain starting with the basics of laboratory Alchemy; and only then, through the principles of ancient mathematics, to address Theurgy. The latter is a system so vast and complex that it can even be compared to a ‘game’. And, perhaps, it really was.
Today, we can only observe the immense amount of direct and indirect references as “sediments” piled up on the alchemical corpse, almost like ornaments capable of still signaling its burial. For many centuries now, alchemists have not fully understood the forces involved in their work, barely perceive the intervention of nature, and, above all, have only a vague idea of their ultimate goal. Not knowing what would become of them in case of defeat and, least of all, in case of victory, they are perpetually looking for readings. In short, the supreme book, the secret manuscript that “explains everything clearly in detail”. The need for this ‘magic pill’. is compulsive in the neophyte’s mind. Yet, the abandonment of this deceitful quest marks the border with the age of disclosure: when one begins to understand, then feels the reverse compulsion to re-read the books already read.
The legend of the secret manuscript written by the secret brotherhood headed by the secret master represented the quintessential cultural and social substratum on which the exchanges between alchemists were based. Who basically behaved like collectors: “I own the manuscript of Master X, and if you have Master Y’s papers, we can exchange them so that we will have a special bond.” They knew the two documents were similar in allegories and omissions. Still, only a slight difference in the words, examples, or symbols was enough to make the alchemist ‘think’ and generate new knowledge. Then notes and books piled up in monstrous collections, so vast that they couldn’t be consulted in a single lifetime.