3.2.3. The Subtle Fetters

“The world is afflicted by death and decay. But the wise do not grieve, having realised the nature of the world.”

— Itivuttaka 4.5 (Pāli Canon)

In this chapter, I step deeper into the landscape of my own mind, exploring subtle attachments so woven into the fabric of being that they are nearly invisible. Here, the path grows more austere, demanding a tender honesty and a willingness to stand alone with what remains after much has already been surrendered. These are the subtle fetters — gossamer threads that nonetheless bind us to the wheel of becoming.

As I move into the terrain of citrinitas, I find myself confronting these final, more elusive fetters — the delicate strands that continue to tether the mind to conditioned existence. Though their hold is less obvious than the gross fetters tied to the sensory realm, their grasp runs deep. It is wise to keep them in memory, turning them over gently when life’s events stir them up.

It seems these fetters unfold in a kind of order. The gross fetters — attachments to sensory pleasures and identity — must be seen through first. Only then does the alchemist become anāgāmī, no longer bound to rebirth in the sensory sphere. From there, the work presses inward to dismantle the hidden architectures of being itself.

The Desire to Be

Having abandoned worldly dreams, I once believed myself free of ambition. In truth, I had only stripped away the content of desire — the colourful specifics of what I might become — while the deeper craving for being still lingered. I saw there was nothing in the sensory realm I wanted, yet there remained a restless longing to be somebody.

Early on, this surfaced as an ache for meaningful roles. When progress felt slow, I sometimes yearned for the simplicity of ordinary life, wondering if I should retreat back into its comforts. But insight, once kindled, is like phosphorus: it burns until consumed, unstoppable and often merciless.

There were long spells of tending to tender places in the heart, learning to cradle the faint wish to be something with patience. This is not to forbid taking up new responsibilities — only to see that roles hold no ultimate significance. As the Bhagavad Gītā teaches, our sacrifice is not an animal upon an altar but the act of complete engagement itself. We are to give ourselves fully to the work before us, uncaring of outcomes. This wisdom seems contrary, yet it draws us firmly into the present. When we cease indulging in delight over success or sorrow over failure, we move from “being” back into pure “doing.”

Even the label ‘alchemist’ is but a fragile shell. Words attempt to capture what cannot be pinned down. In truth, phenomena are beyond grasp. This work reaches into habits layered over countless lives. It is neither soft nor sentimental. Alchemy, for all its supposed mystery, is most truly a cold, exacting science of the heart — deterring all but the most resolute.

When this fetter falls away, freedom dawns. I find myself untroubled by what comes, pouring my whole care into the task at hand, then releasing it utterly. Whether I craft a masterpiece or stumble clumsily matters not; the labour is complete in its doing.

The Desire Not to Be

This fetter touches the raw nerve of saṃsāra’s burden. Often during nigredo, I longed for everything simply to end — a total cessation, a blank nothingness. Hardships, chronic pain, or the grinding repetition of suffering intensify this wish for annihilation.

Sometimes we confuse the concept of emptiness with an actual void. Certain advanced absorptions (jhānas) can give rise to rebirth in formless realms, where beings exist without senses, suspended in dimensions so alien to us that universes are born and perish in their silence. Others might find themselves in strange Brahmic realms among entities possessing only form but no consciousness — spectral blueprints preserved like relics in a timeless museum.

But as an alchemist, I see the snare: to seek nothingness is still to cling to a mode of being. Enlightenment lies beyond the duality of being and not-being. Any yearning to “not exist” is still a subtle form of becoming, crafting an abstract presence that splits reality into inner and outer. I must learn to release even this.

Conceit

Once the desires to be or not to be are weakened, conceit steps forward. As long as I see myself as a distinct being, comparison arises. Just as we break the earlier gross fetters by emptying the mind of imagined delights, we must now confront conceit, even when no concrete examples remain.

Often this means resting in humility, for overt pride is an obvious trap. Yet even humility can mask a subtle conceit. The skandha demons — forces tied to the aggregates of existence — continue their haunt until deep stages of development. I find it safer to be wary of spiritual circles where conceit flourishes easily under the guise of progress. Better to keep to a solitary course.

Conceit feeds on comparison: if I see myself as better, worse, or even equal, I maintain a hidden sense of self. Such distinctions dissolve only when I truly grasp that no intrinsic core exists — in myself or others. There is only the dance of conditions, arising and passing without owner.

Restlessness

Restlessness is born of primordial delusion. It is the mind’s habitual motion, racing out to meet objects, forging a split between observer and observed. Even as other fetters fade, this subtle agitation lingers. I prune it wherever I find it, understanding it cannot fully cease until the root delusion is cut.

Primordial Delusion

This last fetter is the most profound. Known as avijjā in Pāli, it is the ignorance at the base of dependent origination — the engine driving countless births. From the first spark of sentient life, the mind clutches at experience, unwittingly conjuring a sense of being. This grasping conditions the perception of inner and outer, laying the groundwork for all future suffering.

Through practice, there comes a moment — unplanned, unforced — when this deep habit breaks. In that instant, I see there is no “self” at the centre. Experience continues, but emptied of ownership. Life happens, yet not to anyone. This “suchness” lies beyond words.

For some, this realisation marks the close of the path — the achievement of arahantship. Yet the alchemical journey does not always end here. Like the bodhisattva, I feel a pull toward the welfare of others, carrying these insights forward into the final stages of rubedo.

Table: The Subtle Fetters (Saṃyojanā)

Having wandered through these subtle domains of desire and delusion, I sense the terrain ahead narrowing into something startlingly clear. The subtle fetters are neither dramatic nor easily spotted, yet they hold the deepest keys to release. Each step forward demands a finer honesty, a stripping away of all conceits, until only suchness remains.

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.