2.3.3. The Watcher of the Abyss

“And the fifth angel sounded, and I saw a star fall from heaven unto the earth: and to him was given the key of the bottomless pit… And they had a king over them, which is the angel of the bottomless pit, whose name in the Hebrew tongue is Abaddon…”

— Revelation 9:1,11

There comes a point on this strange path where the disciple must face what lies buried in the very depths of their being. Here we meet what has long been called Choronzon — the dread Watcher of the Abyss. Like Abaddon, the angel of the bottomless pit, Choronzon stands as the living personification of dread itself. This figure does not lurk somewhere outside; rather, it dwells within that dark tunnel of mind which bridges two trees of consciousness. From Daʿat — the mysterious non-sephira meaning “knowledge” or “understanding” — the path leads across a terrible gulf separating the upper three from the lower seven sephirot. To pass through this gulf is to risk everything we ever thought ourselves to be.

Ordinary life offers countless ways to bury the unpleasant. Repression serves as a natural protection, quietly pushing down memories and experiences that would otherwise haunt us. Yet within this tunnel that connects Daʿat to the Abyss lies all that we have tried to forget — the very material that can rise to confront us as dread.

For the alchemist, this confrontation is inescapable. We have already begun the work of refining our kamma (intentional actions and their results), and we must continue until the field is largely cleared. Should there be grave past deeds, they may well obstruct the cultivation of jhāna (meditative absorption), though there remains a sharper path of pure insight for those of keen enough faculties. More commonly, as mental tranquillity deepens, old buried disturbances — our personal “demons” — naturally surface. Each must be seen through, understood as empty of any inherent self.

To cross this Abyss successfully demands a profound letting go. One must stand ready to surrender all attachment to the skandhas — form, feeling, perception, mental formations, and consciousness. If even the faintest clinging remains to who we were, Choronzon is empowered. He reflects our deepest karmic imprints back at us, creating distortions and a madness perfectly tailored to the remnants of our grasping. Thus, while we continue to hold to any thread of our former life, we stand only to meet our own nemesis in grotesque shape.

It is worth recalling that the “beast” we examined before is simply our ordinary, composite sense of self. Our achievements, property, plans, resentments — all the ambitions and wounds we wrapped around our idea of “me.” To progress into albedo, the disciple must abandon what they thought they were or hoped to become. The old way of hopes and fears now stands closed. One cannot pursue normal worldly ambitions and simultaneously ascend the path toward true awakening.

I suspect many will meet Choronzon in dreams, though he may appear differently for each. I remember facing a figure utterly still, confronting me at no more than arm’s length — like staring into a warped mirror. Such moments may feel like profound tests of faith, challenges to stand firm before the very image of our dread.

Ironically, if our practice is deep and rightly framed, we may scarcely notice we have crossed the Abyss. The ordeal tends to torment most those who still clutch after success in the sensory sphere. Sometimes, though, it presents itself as a clear choice: self-interest or self-sacrifice, and we wrestle with it for days, months, even years. But once it is truly seen that the entire edifice of “my precious existence” is a delusion, letting go of attachment to the sensory self becomes surprisingly simple. With this surrender, the five gross fetters fall away. We emerge from the Abyss as anāgāmī, the stone now whitened, the stage of albedo fully realised.

Standing before the Watcher of the Abyss, we confront not some outer demon but the last vestiges of our own clinging. The horror dissolves when we see through it; the illusions collapse when we refuse to grasp. Thus the crossing is made — not by might, but by relinquishment — and we step into the quiet clarity that follows.

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.