3.1.1. The Philosopher’s Egg

“The best day of my life—my rebirthday, so to speak—was when I found I had no head.”
— D. E. Harding, On Having No Head

There comes a point along this strange, patient path where one no longer strives to be free from the world, nor to merge with it. Instead, there is a gentle, dawning clarity—an intimation that both striving and merging were illusions spun from the same old longing to exist.

In this chapter, we turn to the curious metaphor of the Philosopher’s Egg, exploring how, as the work ripens into Citrinitas, our being becomes quietly suspended between the fading fabric of selfhood and the luminous simplicity of pure awareness.

The Egg has long stood as a symbol of birth—of emergence from one state into another. Unlike the intimacy of the womb, the Egg encloses a life already distinct from its origin, cocooned yet undeniably separate. In the journey of the alchemist, this image holds special resonance.

With the falling away of the first five gross fetters—personality view (sakkāya-diṭṭhi), doubt (vicikicchā), attachment to rites and rituals (sīlabbata-parāmāsa), sensual desire (kāma-rāga), and ill-will (vyāpāda)—the anāgāmī is liberated from the sensory sphere (kāma-loka). What remains are only the subtlest threads binding them to saṃsāra. Their consciousness has drawn itself away from the earthly matrix that once shaped it, now floating in a strange liminality—halfway between conditioned becoming and nibbāna.

At this stage, the alchemist becomes empty of worldly definition. No longer identifying with anything within the sensory realm, this absence of identification ceases to be a source of pain. They have stopped reaching back for old shapes of self. In its place lies a soft, dark emptiness—a quiet, fertile ground awaiting the next delicate sprout of being.

Thoughts that once compulsively constructed identity find themselves absorbed by this vast inner darkness, dissolving without trace. Unnoticed at first, this quiet transformation lifts the ancient fear of dying, shifting the entire landscape of mind. Meanwhile, the ‘outer’ aspects of self—those that feed and clothe and protect—turn steadfastly outward, shielding this tender interior like a vigilant mother guarding her unborn child. Even the tamed serpents of desire and aversion stand watch over this yet-unmanifest essence.

There is an initial delight in witnessing such a profound change. Temptations, once beguiling, now stand revealed as mere options. But enlightenment is less an ecstatic vision than a disenchantment. The illusions grow thin. The lights and signs are simply by-products of old perceptual habits fading away.

Life continues. The alchemist still chops wood, fetches water, tends to duties. But spare moments are increasingly devoted to examining the profound subtleties of desire: the longing for future existences, even heavenly rebirths (sugati), which remain as karmic conditions perpetuating saṃsāra. For an anāgāmī, this subtle attachment to becoming (bhava-taṇhā) is a delicate snare. One must come to see even the highest abodes as threads still woven into the endless loom of conditioned existence.

Equally critical is to examine any quiet attraction to non-being—annihilationism—born from the weary wish that suffering might simply cease. But saṃsāra has neither beginning nor end; to long for oblivion is to stay entangled in its cycle.

The alchemist thus turns inward to uproot conceit (māna)—the hidden tendency to measure self against others. Recognising that ‘self’ is merely a conceptual overlay upon experience, they cut through the root. Without self, there is no other. The last fetters—restlessness (uddhacca) and ignorance (avijjā)—dwindle in tandem. Even as perceptions arise and fabricate a subtle sense of “I,” it is recognised as hollow, a diaphanous veil draped over pure cognising.

This is the Veil of Isis: the lingering division between inner and outer, observer and observed. For the arahant, the aggregates (skandhas) still function—thoughts, sensations, perceptions flow on—but they are known as utterly empty of intrinsic being. The arahant harbours no phobias, cravings, sentimental attachments, or recoils.

Approaching this final insight, the alchemist may yet hesitate, plagued by faint doubts about the Dhamma, their practice, or subtle self-concerns masquerading as spiritual caution. Often it is a humble acceptance—after many odd experiences and much patient study—that finally brings rest. Insight meditators find themselves simply awakening to the Dhamma without reserve. Even tranquility meditators, wrestling with luminous phenomena, often cross this threshold upon giving up, feeling wholly defeated. Then restlessness falls away, replaced by a vast acceptance of non-separateness.

Practices such as Tögal—directly perceiving the mind’s projections—exist to shock us into recognising that all experience is our own dream. Only then does courage arise to break the last chains.

In Citrinitas, the alchemist remains happily divided: outwardly busy, inwardly growing. The birth of the arahant is not the cracking of the Egg but the simultaneous vanishing of self from inside and out, revealing a mind of pure radiance. There is, and never was, any philosopher. With self uprooted, the habitual “What’s in it for me?” ceases. Slowly the inner light begins to shine through all appearances, ushering in the yellowing of the Great Work.

Thus, our task ahead is to fully realise and transcend the five remaining subtle fetters. In Citrinitas, I hope to share ways this might be undertaken. Good luck.

At this tender threshold, the alchemist stands as an embryo of new being—sheltered within the Philosopher’s Egg, gradually shedding the last traces of selfhood. It is here, in this quiet division between an outward life of responsibilities and an inward hush of infinite possibility, that the deeper work of Citrinitas truly begins.

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