2.2.2. Fate and Determinism

“Fate leads the willing and drags the unwilling.”
— Seneca

Having glimpsed the crystalline universe — a way of describing conditioned reality seen without illusion — we now turn to its implications. If all is causality and conditionality, what of freedom? What of fate? These are not abstract questions for the alchemist. They go directly to the heart of awakening. If we remain unaware of the forces that shape us, are we not mere puppets of karma, endlessly repeating ancient scripts? And if so, can this fate be escaped?

In Nigredo, we examined conditioned reality — the intricate web of mental and physical causality that animates existence. This matrix determines how reality unfolds, not as a fixed destiny, but as a dynamic system of interdependent events. Yet most people live unaware of this matrix. They dwell not in conditioned reality, but in apparent reality — a shimmering overlay of hopes, fears, and social constructs.

Those who take up spiritual training must first learn to see through this illusion. Apparent reality is not evil; it is simply misunderstood. Like a mirage on a hot road, it appears real until scrutinised more closely.

Here we encounter a curious yet vital claim: that the moment a practitioner attains sotāpanna — the first stage of awakening on the Buddhist path — they are no longer bound by fate. This is not mere metaphor. But it requires careful explanation.

Sentient beings are, to varying degrees, obscured by ignorance. Ignorance breeds misplaced desires — for power, wealth, fame, control — all arising from fear, which itself stems from a false view of self. In striving to secure a self that does not truly exist, we become more tightly bound to the wheel of becoming.

It is often those who possess everything who first glimpse the emptiness of it all. The children of kings, sheltered from suffering, may be the first to ask: Is this all there is? So it was for the Buddha. A prince, he only questioned life’s illusions after encountering sickness, old age, poverty, and death — realising no palace could shield him from the inevitable.

Today, many of us are far more privileged than the monarchs of old. We can read, study, reflect. Yet we squander this wish-fulfilling gem — the human rebirth — by chasing after hollow things. Those mired in crisis, poverty, or trauma may not have the luxury of stillness or study. Enlightenment is open to all, but it is easier for some than others.

Most of our problems are instinctive. We react with anger, greed, or confusion — patterns driven not by free will, but by deep conditioning. Until we learn to interrupt this reactivity, we remain locked into fate.

The first great act of liberation is the simple, profound choice to hold the tongue. This begins with speech, then extends to thought. We start to notice the space between stimulus and response. This is the beginning of inner freedom.

In Greek myth, Prometheus means “forethought,” while his brother Epimetheus means “afterthought.” Before we learn to reflect, we are like Epimetheus — reacting without pause. Once we develop forethought, we become like Prometheus — able to consider before acting. This marks the rise of a new faculty: pre-thought, or inner evaluation.

Pre-thought is the first tool against instinct. Most animals live entirely by instinct, their behaviours predictable, governed by biological and karmic patterns. So it is for humans who have not yet begun the path. Without pre-thought, we are caught in the same stream, no freer than the moth circling a flame.

Karma acts like a program. If in a past life you were devoured by a tiger, you may not recall it — but you might still feel uneasy in tall grass. This is not crude superstition; it is a poetic way of describing how memory and trauma ripple across lifetimes. Until we see through this, we enact scripts we do not understand.

As pre-thought grows, we begin to suspect that our ordinary view — apparent reality — is incomplete. We sense deeper rules at play. This may first feel like superstition or paranoia. Why do some events seem fated? Why do certain patterns endlessly recur?

This is the nigredo phase — the blackening. Confusion, despair, and fragmentation rise. But out of this darkness, the deeper architecture of reality becomes visible: karma, conditionality, interdependence.

Eventually, we learn to play with instinct rather than obey it. We question it, test it, even disregard it. This is where true freedom begins.

The sotāpanna is precisely the one who has accomplished this. They have passed through the gate. They are no longer bound by instinctual behaviour, and therefore no longer bound to the realms ruled by it — the animal, the hungry ghost, the hell-being. The first three fetters have been broken: identity view, doubt, and attachment to rites and rituals. These are not mere shifts in belief, but profound inner transformations that alter one’s entire trajectory.

And so all bets are off. The game is now different.

This is why human rebirth is so precious. It is the only realm where instinct and insight coexist — where a mind bears both the burden of suffering and the opportunity to awaken. The window is narrow. Most beings circle for eons, and few pause long enough to ask what any of this is for.

If you are reading this, you are already fortunate. And if you have come this far, perhaps you are no longer merely reacting, but beginning to see.

Fate governs the instincts of the worldling. But the moment one develops pre-thought — the capacity to pause, to question, to refrain — a doorway opens. The sotāpanna steps through that doorway and moves beyond the orbit of destiny. They are no longer driven; they begin, instead, to steer.

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.