2.3.11. The Appointed
“Blessed are the solitary ones, the elect, for they will find the kingdom,
for they come from it and will return to it.”— Gospel of Thomas, Saying 49 (Coptic Nag Hammadi Library)
There is something both tender and unsettling in reaching this threshold. I sense it in quiet moments — a hush that lies beneath the usual noise of thought. It is as if life itself waits to see what I will do next. I stand here, neither fully anchored to the conditioned world nor entirely released from it, adjusting awkwardly to this new air. This is the space of the appointed — though I hesitate to use such grand words, aware how quickly they breed illusions. And yet, some quiet truth compels me to acknowledge: something has shifted. The journey is far from over, but the terrain has unmistakably changed.
Having come this far, the alchemist achieves what might be called albedo, the whitening. It is not freedom from karma — far from it — but rather a transformation in how karma unfolds. I find that the coarse bonds once forged by greed, hatred, and delusion have weakened. I am still very much subject to kamma (intentional action with ethical consequence), yet my attachments to sensory pleasures are milder, my habits of ill-will softened, and even these tendencies seem to fade over time.
It helps to remember how karma functions. The more fully conscious we are of an unwholesome impulse, the weaker its karmic imprint becomes. Paradoxical though it seems, the instinctive, automatic reactions — the harsh word, the selfish grasping — bind us most tightly to future becoming. Here, I still act unskillfully at times, but with far less fuel behind it.
Stages Beyond the First Five Fetters
- Anāgāmī – Non-returner; no rebirth in sensual realms, one last existence in a subtle form realm.
- Arahant – Fully liberated; no further becoming.
- Bodhisattva Path – Two further lives, culminating in perfect awakening as a Buddha.
With release from attachment to sensory experience and at least modest proficiency in jhāna (states of meditative absorption), one who reaches this stage becomes an anāgāmī, a “non-returner.” At death, unless arahantship intervenes, such a being will form a jhānic life continuum and dwell in a subtle realm right on the edge of the sensual world. There is also the rare Bodhisattva path, which entails further existences: one in a heavenly sphere and a final human birth culminating in Buddhahood.
Even now, the alchemist carries subtler fetters — deeper illusions of self — that perpetuate conditioned existence. The stone may be whitened, but the real work is only just beginning. Each stage seems to unveil an entirely new dimension, where everything previously learned must be revisited, sometimes discarded, and rebuilt on finer ground.
I laugh at myself here, for I realise I’ve warned you before: at each grade of the stone, one starts afresh. Having sacrificed the comforting scripts of who I thought I should be, I find myself merely an agent of reality, stepping into the abyss with little more than trust. So long as I keep my sense of self empty — or later, learn to unify what’s inside with what appears outside — my actions can serve some greater good. It’s crucial not to let lurking aspects of the skandhas (aggregates that compose personal experience) convince me otherwise.
The world itself becomes the training field. I might understand karma conceptually, but living it is another matter. Life presents tests, and these are invaluable. Slowly, a way of being emerges that stands beyond ordinary suffering, though for now I still hover half in and half out of conditioned becoming.
It is wise to refrain from making oneself “something” — to play down personal achievements for the near meaninglessness they hold. Any progress I’ve made is likely due as much to the labours of past lives as to efforts now. Better to keep humble until even the conceit of humility dissolves, and then pay it no further mind.
Beware flattery and praise. These are subtle skandha demons, eager to ensnare. Likewise, learn to bear up under the world’s ignorance, greed, harshness, and intolerance. Unless someone earnestly seeks guidance, even kindly advice often lands strangely, for I now move in a paradigm few recognise. There comes a quiet compassion for those who, through countless compounded causes, entangle themselves further. For a time, this alienates me; it’s all too easy for conceit to creep in, whether inflating or deflating my worth.
This is the danger of spiritual pride. It is so tempting to see oneself as “the appointed” — rather than simply acknowledging that this is the current unfolding. Held as an empty designation, it is harmless; grasped as identity, it is ruinous.
Ultimately, whatever can be conceptualised cannot be the goal. True arrival is beyond thought, so any dazzling notion is surely Māra’s bait. Better to meet temptations with gentle humour. Māra’s aim is merely to unseat my calm centre, and that strategy grows futile when faced with patient acceptance rather than reactive argument.
I might begrudge myself a nod of recognition, but clinging to it serves no good. In the end, I must settle on this simple truth: I truly do not know what any of this means. To speculate is to open the door to the skandhas once more. Instead, I guide thoughts back to this quiet, unknowing heart.
And so, in this final chapter of Albedo, I look more deeply at the anāgāmī and glimpse the horizon of the next great work: citrinitas. But for now, I rest a little longer in this threshold, neither here nor fully beyond.
This chapter invites us to stand gently at the boundary between worlds — to see how the loosening of our oldest bonds transforms us into quiet agents of reality. The true appointed carry no banner; they simply go on, humble and slightly bewildered, learning to abide in a freedom that cares little for what any of it might mean.
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.