Introduction to the Alchemical Path
Spagyrics: The Marriage of Plant and Philosophy
Spagyrics are a branch of alchemy that bring the great philosophical art into the laboratory. Unlike ordinary tinctures or extracts, spagyric preparations seek not only to preserve the body of the plant, but to exalt its essence—to create a medicine that carries the plant’s body, soul, and spirit in harmony.
The word itself comes from two Greek roots: spao (to separate) and ageiro (to recombine). This describes the essential process: separating the parts of a plant, purifying them, and then reunifying them into a higher, more complete form of medicine.
Spagyrics are therefore not just remedies—they are embodiments of the alchemical path itself. They are medicines crafted through fire, water, and time, in which both the plant and the practitioner are transformed.
The Philosophical Principles
In alchemy, all of creation is said to be woven from three philosophical principles: Salt, Sulfur, and Mercury. These are not the crude substances of the same names, but living archetypes that reveal themselves in both matter and soul.
Salt is the body, the fixed principle, the ground that gives form and stability. In plants, it is found in the purified mineral salts remaining after calcination. In us, Salt is our bones, our boundaries, our capacity to endure.
Sulfur is the soul, the fiery essence that gives each thing its unique nature. It is the volatile oils, the fragrance of the plant, the spark of individuality. In us, it is our will, our passions, our animating flame.
Mercury is the spirit, the subtle bridge between above and below. It is the alcohol that carries the medicine, the breath that moves between realms. In us, Mercury is our intuition, our imagination, our capacity to connect.
When Salt, Sulfur, and Mercury are separated, purified, and finally brought back together, something remarkable happens. The plant is not just extracted — it is restored to its wholeness. This is the heart of spagyric medicine: not isolating “active constituents,” but working with the full body, soul, and spirit of the plant.
In practice, this means the alchemist takes the time to draw out each principle — the Salt through fire, the Sulfur through oils, the Mercury through fermentation and distillation. Each is cleansed, elevated, and then carefully reunited. What returns is the plant in its fullness, but shining at a higher octave.
I often feel it as though the plant itself is singing again — not fragmented into parts, but whole, embodied, and alive. And when we take that medicine, it invites us into the same harmony: a remembering of our own body, soul, and spirit.
The Seven Stages of the Alchemical Work
The Great Work (Magnum Opus) unfolds through seven primary stages, each with both laboratory and inner dimensions. In spagyric practice, these stages are not abstract—they are lived in the fire, glass, and salt of the work:
Calcination – The burning away of impurities. In the lab, the plant’s body is reduced to ash, revealing the fixed mineral salts. Inwardly, calcination is the breaking down of pride, ego, and false structures.
Dissolution – The breaking apart of structures into fluidity. The ashes are dissolved in water, just as the psyche dissolves rigid patterns to enter a state of receptivity.
Separation – Clarifying what is essential. The volatile is separated from the fixed, the pure from the impure. Inwardly, we learn discernment: what serves, and what must be left behind.
Conjunction – The sacred marriage. Here, purified principles are recombined—the Sulfur, Mercury, and Salt are reunited in exalted form. Inwardly, we experience integration and union of opposites.
Fermentation – New life arises. Just as the plant material ferments to release its spirit, so too the soul undergoes inspiration, renewal, and the descent of divine spark.
Distillation – Refinement and subtle clarification. Through repeated cycles of distillation, the medicine becomes more luminous and pure. Psychologically, this is the raising of consciousness, the clarification of vision.
Coagulation – The completion of the Work. The fixed and the volatile are united into the Philosopher’s Stone, the perfected medicine. Inwardly, this is wholeness—spirit and matter reconciled.
My Path into Spagyric Work
Through my work, I hope to help people extrapolate lessons from myth and embody the teachings these archetypes have to offer us about ourselves. The plants have been some of my primary teachers, and as we begin to truly listen to them, they aid us in self-exploration—connecting mind and body to spirit. Each plant has its own voice, its own spirit, and its own desire to be heard. Spagyrics are a profound tool in this process, as the alchemical method of extraction reincorporates the body of the plant back into the medicine, grounding its wisdom into our own bodies.
I first discovered the art of laboratory alchemy while deepening my studies in herbalism. I came across an interview with Robert Bartlett hosted by Sajah Popham, and I was instantly smitten—pulled by an irresistible tug down this mysterious path. Soon after, I met someone who was preparing these profound remedies using the spagyric method. When I first tasted them, I could practically hear the plants singing and humming through my body.
But the medicine came with a cost. I still remember being charged $30 for a mostly used bottle of Lungwort when I was sick—I must have gotten only five or six drops out of the entire thing! This experience planted the seed of realization in me: this form of medicine, as profound as it is, needed to be made more accessible.
From that initial introduction, many synchronicities unfolded, each one carrying me deeper down the path. Eventually they led me to study with Robert Bartlett at his property in Washington, and finally to take the leap into formal study of herbal science. Yet long before I had even heard the word “alchemy,” my initiation had already begun.
I had gone through a deeply painful personal experience—the loss of a loved one—that left me utterly broken. I felt as though I stood amidst the shattered pieces of myself, watching them swirl around me in a storm. I had to wait for the dust of self to settle, and it was then, in that stillness of brokenness, that I discovered alchemy. The discovery was intimate, like a secret being revealed that I had always known.
When I first read The Golden Chain of Homer, the pages were stained with my tears. Creating that chain within myself, as well as in the lab, became a way of gathering and reconnecting all those fragments of my being. It reminded me that nothing in alchemy—or in life—can be skipped. There is no quick fix or easy path to wholeness (coagulation). Each part of the self must be broken down, purified, and lovingly restored before spirit and matter can coalesce.
The practitioner of this art is called to unify polarities through their work. To do so, the chain must be forged strong within themselves; their understanding must be steadfast. For me, alchemy became both a personal healing journey and a sacred craft—one that continues to weave together the broken and the whole, the spirit and the body, the visible and the unseen.
Spagyrics as Superior Medicine
Because they carry both the matter and the essence of the plant, spagyrics speak to us on many levels at once. They don’t just move through the body like chemistry alone—they also stir the psyche, awaken the spirit, and invite us into relationship with the plant as a living teacher.
Most tinctures leave something behind, often discarding the mineral salts that anchor the plant’s body. Spagyrics do not. Through the alchemical work of calcination and recombination, those salts are brought back, grounding the medicine in wholeness. What we receive is not a fragment, but the full presence of the plant—its body, soul, and spirit reunited and singing in harmony.
This is why so many practitioners call spagyrics a superior medicine: they carry not only the plant’s healing chemistry, but its full alchemical voice.
Closing Reflections
For me, spagyric medicine is not only about supporting the body—it is about tending the threshold where body, mind, and spirit meet. Each preparation is a mirror of the Great Work itself: to break down what is false, to purify what is essential, to illuminate what has been hidden, and to bring it all back together into wholeness.
In this way, spagyrics remind us that our own wounds, losses, and illnesses are not dead ends, but crucibles. Just as the plants give themselves to fire and transformation, so too are we invited to pass through the fires of life. On the other side, if we have done the work with care and devotion, we emerge more whole, more luminous, more truly ourselves.
