2.2.1. The Crystal Universe

“Time does not exist – we invented it. Time is what the clock says. The distinction between the past, present and future is only a stubbornly persistent illusion.”
— Albert Einstein

There are moments in meditative stillness when perception shifts — not into hallucination, but into something clearer, quieter, more luminous. What once appeared ordinary becomes radiant; what seemed solid, now translucent. This clarity is neither a return to childhood innocence nor an altered state induced by chemicals. Rather, it is a stripping away of the mental habits that fixate the world into familiar forms and meanings. In these rare glimpses, the universe appears crystalline — not composed of discrete things, but of relations, potentials, and delicate interdependencies.

There exists a mode of awareness in which the duality of self and other dissolves entirely. Within this space, all phenomena become pristine, radiant, and translucent — not as poetic metaphor, but as direct experience. I recall, as a child, being utterly transfixed by a puddle reflecting the sky. At that age, we have not yet learned to dull the world. But in adulthood, there is no time for such distractions. We are taught to prioritise utility over wonder, to see the world as stable, solid, and unremarkable — lest we lose ourselves in illusions.

Certain hallucinogens, such as LSD, disrupt this conceptual overlay. They dissolve the filter that dulls the natural brilliance of things. For a while, the veil lifts, and perception returns to something more raw and immediate. Yet this is not true seeing — it is a flooding of the faculties. DMT, another such agent, interferes with the mind’s objectifying tendencies more dramatically, not merely altering the senses but unsettling subjectivity itself. At high doses, even the notion of self disintegrates. In these states, memory becomes unreliable and language falters. What arises — or perhaps remains — is a vision not of objects, but of causality itself: a latticework of interpenetrating energies, without centre or observer.

This state is difficult to recall because subjectivity is precisely what has been suspended. With no self to narrate, only the unfolding of causes persists. In this radiant space, internal and external phenomena are no longer distinct. Awareness moves freely through both. No longer entangled in thought or sensory fixation, the mind becomes truly unbound.

This freedom is what I call the Freeing of Phenomena — a pivotal insight. Phenomena — that is, anything we can sense or think — arise without intrinsic nature. They are compounded, conditioned, and ultimately empty. We stabilise these experiences with words and ideas, but such structures are projections. Even science shows us that matter is not solid: atoms are mostly space, and even that space vibrates with energy fields.

Each element is an emergent phenomenon — a way in which potential manifests under certain conditions. There is no core substance, no essence — only processes unfolding according to cause and effect.

When we perceive a red rose, it is never the same rose twice. Yet we apply the same label, imposing a permanence that does not exist. Language fixes what is inherently fluid. This habit — this clinging to perceived constancy — is the very root of our spiritual blindness.

Why does this matter? Because our minds are not conditioned by one lifetime alone, but by an eternity of existence. The habits we carry — of recognition, of desire, of fear — are karmic echoes. We must learn to unlearn. One way to coax the mind into releasing its restless grasping is through deep insight. Once we realise that the mind reacts only to what it believes it recognises — to patterns of significance rooted in the past — we begin to loosen these compulsions.

To free phenomena is to see them as fresh. No longer bound by old interpretations, the mind ceases to react and simply rests. Then the radiant, crystalline universe emerges behind our habitual distortions. It is the world as it is — not as we have been conditioned to see it.

For the meditator, this may appear as celestial temples or visions — artefacts of residual selfhood or symbolic expressions of transcendence. For practitioners of Tantric Buddhism, it may take form as subtle mandalas of becoming. But for the alchemist, it is the living understanding that every appearance is a conditioned relationship. Only by seeing through these conditions can one begin to master one’s own fate.

The crystalline universe is not fantasy — it is reality, seen clearly. In rare and fleeting moments, the self dissolves and the lattice of causality reveals itself: radiant, interconnected, and endlessly dynamic. The task of the alchemist is to dwell within this insight, not to grasp at it, but to know it so thoroughly that the mind ceases to cling — and in that freedom, transformation becomes truly possible.

This text is excerpted from the upcoming book Albedo: A Course in Modern Alchemy. The complete volume will include additional study guides, glossaries, and extended teachings. Learn more about the book here.