2.2.12. The Anagāmī

“As a man rideth upon a horse, so doth the understanding ride upon the senses; but the will guideth the understanding, and the conscience guideth the will.”
— Thomas Traherne, Centuries of Meditations

There comes a quiet turning in this work — subtle, almost hidden — where the landscape shifts so completely that what once held the mind enthralled now appears hollow. The journey toward becoming an anagāmī, or “non-returner,” marks such a crossing. It is not dramatic; rather, it is the gentle falling away of burdens we did not realise we carried.

The path moment of the anagāmī arises when the first five fetters — those bonds that keep consciousness tethered to the sensuous realm — are broken. These fetters are not mere intellectual misunderstandings; they are subtle adhesions of the heart and mind to things that promise solidity but deliver only repetition. When one of the three marks of existence — anicca (impermanence), dukkha (unsatisfactoriness), or anattā (not-self) — is deeply penetrated, the illusion collapses. This is what is meant by realisation: not a thought or hope, but a direct seeing that severs the grip of these bonds.

I see how, in my own practice, the groundwork for this is laid much earlier. The first path moment of sotāpanna emerges amid the dark confusion of nigredo, that initial descent where old patterns begin to fracture. Afterwards, there is often a subtle drift, a necessary period of reorientation. But once the resolve to continue is made, commitment deepens, and soon enough the second path moment — sakadāgāmī — arises. With it comes a quiet clarity: a sense of true direction, of knowing that the work ahead is no longer optional.

At this stage, karma becomes less an abstract teaching and more an intimate fact. I find myself increasingly sensitive to the quality of my thoughts, learning almost instinctively to turn from those rooted in greed, anger, or delusion. As insight into the pervasive nature of suffering and emptiness deepens, the old allure of craving grows dull. Anger feels heavy and unwieldy; attachment tastes stale. Observing these tendencies in others, I am brought face to face with them in myself, prompting a gentle resolve to temper speech and action.

A curious freedom emerges as attachment to the body itself loosens. What feels like “my body” is revealed to be mere sensation, fleeting and insubstantial. Concepts about it — health, beauty, strength — are just that: concepts, with no true inherent substance. As this regard diminishes, concern for bodily well-being gives way to patient acceptance, coupled with an earnest drive to uproot lingering ill-will and desire.

Eventually, all sensory attachments and aversions are seen as meaningless — and often, strangely, this evokes laughter. Perhaps it is the relief that follows the sudden lifting of an ancient dread. It may be this which people call the “cosmic joke.”

In relinquishing identification with the skandhas — form, feeling, perception, mental formations, and consciousness — the first five fetters are severed. This partial liberation marks the stage of the anagāmī. There is some debate in the old commentaries about whether an anagāmī can still briefly flare with anger. Some suggest it is impossible for such a one to initiate a hateful citta, though a momentary reactive heat might still flicker. For me, what matters is that the alchemical stone is now transmuting through the gradual elimination of unwholesome cittas, clearing the way for future tranquility and deeper realisations.

This is how the work progresses, often imperceptibly, as instinct or wise counsel guides the alchemist ever further from states that lead to suffering. Thus does the ground grow quieter, the mind clearer, and the heart unburdened.

Reaching the stage of the anagāmī is not the culmination of the path, but it signals a profound shift: the old compulsions lose their power, and the mind stands freer of its coarse entanglements. By steadily loosening the hold of greed, anger, and the illusion of self, the alchemist lays down the heavier stones, making space for a subtler, more luminous way of being.

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.