A Saturn Superfusion

Athough I had intended to speak much about the subfusion of metals, I remained perplexed as to how best approach the subject; I needed a modus operandi. I had read descriptions of the physical reactions involved, the chemical and metallurgical treatments of the phenomenon, and studied the objective data: the curves and the graphs. Yet still I lacked for the subjective experience an appreciation of the gesture beyond the act, the chasm which yawns between the science and the art. Previously, I had benefited from observing the daily alchemical handling in others; in particular a bismuth profusion that I had seen a brother conducting. At the time, I had noted with appreciation his quiet ease especially at the time of molding; he had shown great care and deliberation as he poured the liquid metal into the mold. I needed to partake of this kind of direct experience.

Immediately upon returning home, I put at once at work, this time attempting a Saturn subfusion. I took a piece of century-old lead from a roof, cut it into smaller pieces and placed them in a covered roasting crucible. I placed the crucible on a tripod, and applied heat. Once the lead melted, I first skimmed the liquid with a spatula, removing more or less all of the dross and oxides. Afterward, the bath appeared quite brilliant and liquid. I then reduced the heat, allowing the metal to slowly cool. As I had observed others do previously, I propped the lid very slightly above the crucible cup, this so as to avoid a too abrupt cooling of the metal’s surface. I continued to skim the liquid with the spatula, each time removing a thin layer of dross. Then I waited, carefully avoiding any vibration which could have disturbed the process. Minutes passed, then suddenly I saw patterns resembling the leaves of a fern, forming on the surface of the liquid. I quickly seized the small fireclay cup in preparation for pouring the liquid into a conical mold, but before I could, I was astonished to see Saturn completely fixed in the crucible! I had acted too late. Captivated by the first signs of crystallization, I had failed to act decisively at the crucial moment!

I immediately relit the fire and started the process again, this time resolving to be more vigilant. Saturn had played a trick on me but would not play it again! I spoke to him gently this time, in a murmur, as though I was coaxing or taming him. The minutes passed, then suddenly I had the intuition that I was to mold the liquid without delay. I seized the small fireclay cup with my grip. This caused a single vibration to reflect itself in the bath – the beginning of crystallization. As I poured the liquid metal I wondered what part of the formed and solid Saturn would remain in the vessel. I quickly poured off the still hot metal and was astonished by what I saw: a symphony of iridescent colours, from gold to purple, large ribbed sheets finely cut out yet intermingled, images of the life: the beauty, and intelligence of the metal. I thanked Our Lady for all the wonders which She offers to her children, gifts which are best to be received as a child would receive them: innocently the better to fully understand them. Later, I experienced the same pleasure and amazement as I performed the experiment again. In this circumstance, I had learned well the lesson Saturn had taught me: how to act at the right time.

Is this not a lesson for our own lives? And who would have said that in the greyness of an old lead of roof, a rainbow would be hid?

In Solazaref writes.