As I pen these words, I am so giddy with triumph and fervor that I can hardly remain seated. The mortal veil has been spared from my eyes and the golden-brown truth lays bare before me. I can't help but wonder if this is how Prometheus felt after pulling a fast one on the gods by stealing fire straight from under the noses? Here today, I have proven my alchemical prowess and achieved the legendary. I have manifested the most sacred matter of all matter through transmutation of the elements--a process that is only possible after experiencing both life and death. Now I can confess the truth, the Philosopher's Scone is real. And as I sit here, inebriated by the aromas of the alchemical process, I must pen my perfected recipe before it escapes me. Undoubtedly, many will discount my words as metaphysical hogwash. I do not care. The profane are not worthy of the truth; only the enlightened can see the light. In good faith, I grant these words wings so they may reach my fellow and aspiring alchemists. Together we shall stand, hallowing our scones, in contempt of mortal darkness.
It began on a warm summer evening. I was scrounging the forest for Ginseng root. In delight of my abundant findings, I lost track of time. The sun had already dipped below the horizon and through the dense overgrowth of foliage, I could not observe my landmark streetlight. As much as I hate to admit it, I was lost. I groped around the darkness for a familiar landmark to no avail. The only advantage afforded to me was the cloudless sky and the full moon shining overhead. Without those, it would have been too dark to move. As time advanced further into the night, my mind worked itself into a frenzy over the sounds of things--menacing things--that might be lurking in the shadows. I considered screaming for help, but quickly thought better of it. To a wild beast who missed his supper a scream would surely be an invitation for a midnight snack. I had decided it was best just to keep moving in the same direction. Even outside the city, there were roads everywhere, sooner or later I was bound happen upon one. After wrangling my way through a particularly nasty pine thicket, I stepped into a most unusual clearing; a circle barren of any vegetation that was a good twenty yards in diameter. Curiously, there was a colonnade forming a half-circle that served as a backdrop to a marble throne at the center of the clearing. Naturally, I approached the throne for further investigation. I was awestruck by the throne's craftsmanship which was engraved with owls and Greek lettering. As I approached the throne I felt an insatiable urge to sit on it. Just as I got within touching distance, a thick plume of purple smoke enveloped the throne and myself. A pungent, burnt odor accompanied the smoke. I could not see, my eyes burned, and I choked and gagged. In an instant, a great gust of wind blew the smoke away and toppled me to the ground at the base of the throne. When I tried to get up I noticed a woman was seated on the throne. She was wearing a shimmery white tunic with gold accents and there was an owl perched on her shoulder. I recognized her immediately as Athena, the Greek goddess of wisdom. I could not believe my eyes. I looked up at her and tried to speak, but all that came out was an unintelligible noise. Athena looked down, smiled, and leaned forward slowly advanced her cupped hand toward my face. There was something in her hand but I could not tell what it was. I felt both mesmerized and paralyzed by her approaching hand. When her hand was directly in front of me I could see the off-white colored orb with a golden-brown top. A philosopher's scone, I thought, She is offering me a scone. I reached out to take the scone, and when I touched it, I experienced what felt like an intense electric shock. My whole body convulsed and suddenly, I understood. My mind became clear. I realized that everything has meaning and also, nothing has meaning. My thoughts went from chaos to order. For the first time in my life, I felt purpose and that purpose was the philosopher's scone. I was so overwhelmed, I blacked out.
I woke up lying face-up in the clearing. The sun was bright and I was starving. I could hear traffic on a road somewhere nearby. I looked around. I was alone except for a few pigeons clamoring over some dirty bread crumbs. The colonnade, the throne, and Athena were all gone. Was it a dream? I got up, found my way to the road, and was relieved to find that I was only a few blocks from home.
Inside my house, I froze when I saw my calendar clock--That can’t be right. According to the calendar, I had been gone for three days--no wonder I was starving. I made a beeline for the fridge. I stood there, with the door open, accessing the contents: a half pack of Brown & Serve rolls, a can of flaky jumbo biscuits, a moldy pack of English muffins, and some leftover bread sticks. I realized there was something different about my hunger. I did not long for the things I saw before me. The store-bought rubbish had no appeal to me. "This is the bread of the jester, not fit for a chamber pot," I said aloud. But I was still starving, so I devoured the can of raw biscuits as I pondered my forest experience. Did it really happen? Did Athena herself appear before me? Then it hit me like a thunderbolt, The philosopher's scone! I'd forgotten about the scone. The philosopher's scone was my true craving. I knew, right then and there, that my hunger would never be satisfied until successfully created the philosopher's scone.
Twelve times I attempted and failed at making the philosopher's scone. The thirteenth effort was a complete success! As a forewarning, I must say, the making of the scone is not entirely scientific. In alchemy you must know the unknowable laws of nature. Every true alchemist knows that only a proper initiate can see through the veil and fathom the truth. This is not a matter of book learning; when you are ready, esoteric knowledge will find you.
My victorious attempt began under the new moon. Beaten and downtrodden by my first dozen failures I resolved for one final attempt before succumbing to defeat. In my study, I filled my chalice with a lovely red wine, sat back in my chair, and pored over prior entries in my notebook. There had to be some reason for my piteous failures; but, what could it have been? The constituents had to be correct; those ancient Greek texts could not be wrong. I turned to examining the procedure itself. I really had not given it much thought; I mean, how many different ways can you combine the basic elements? Perhaps, the direction of the stirring or the type of incense mattered. I failed to see how. Through deductive reasoning, I knocked down each fatal flaw, one by one. In the end, the only flaw left standing, was me. I realized that I, like so many others, have a self-inflicted veil that distorts my vision and clouds my thinking. For as long as I can remember I have been plagued by negative thoughts, self-doubt, depression, anxiety, zero self-esteem, and an inexplicable fear of success. My negative disposition had sabotaged my efforts from the beginning. With all those negatives running in the background, it's amazing I could think at all. The truth is, if you focus on suffering, you'll never see past it. If you really want to see, you must be centered in the present and observe using all of your senses. With this understanding, I banished the negative demons from my mind and hotfooted it over to my lab only to find myself low on supplies. A trip to the Temple of Groceries was next on the agenda.
Don't let these grocery temples fool you. From the outside, it might seem like a spacious gymnasium. However, on the inside, you'll find a confusing labyrinth jam-packed with isles of prepackaged rubbish designed to lure peasants into the deadly sin of gluttony. Unless you know the secret to navigating the maze, you could spend hours--distracted and salivating--just to find the common elements of yeast or flour. To make matters worse, it's said that the Minotaur roams the isles at night, rearranging things in the least logical fashion. Anyway, as I approached the temple, the sliding doors magically parted, granting my passage into the sanctified realm. A friendly drudge tried to tempt me with a push cart. Naturally, I declined the offer as I knew exactly what I was after and desired nothing more. If you need to quickly locate the basic elements in the temple, look up. There is usually a placard hanging over the end of each isle indicating the classification of things you might find on that isle. I scanned the placards and discovered that flour should be on isle number six so that's exactly where I went. About half way down the isle I found the sacks of flour. Flour is the main element for manifesting the scone so its quality is of the upmost importance. The obvious choice for my scones was, none other than, the legendary King Arthur, all-purpose flour. Some claim that King Arthur was a myth, but this is nonsense; how can a legend be a myth? A few feet down from the flour sacks, I found the packets of life giving yeast I needed and proceeded to the checkout.
Back in the comfort of my abode I drew the blinds, closed the curtains, killed the lights, and muted the phone. Unless you fancy being drawn and quartered in a public square, us alchemists must perform our work out of public view. Next, I dug out my altar which I personally handcrafted of hardwood scraps. I lit a few candles and a charcoal briquette which I topped off with a bit of frankincense for good measure. Upon my altar I was preparing to create a living, breathing organism by combining elements from the animal and vegetable kingdoms with the simple elements of the earth. I began by placing a large earthenware bowl upon the alter. Into the bowl, I added some pure rainwater which had been acclimated to the temperature of life. My method for water temperature acclimation is to pour the water into one of them old rubber water bottles and sit on it for half an hour. To initiate life, I sprinkled the contents of a yeast packet onto the water and added a double spoon of sugar to feed the yeast. Next, I took a break.
After about ten minutes I returned to the alter to find that the formulation in my earthenware bowl had become frothy, proving that conception of life had occurred. The next step was for me to develop the body of my scones. To do that requires elements from the vegetable kingdom and the earth. I added two pinches of salt from the earth to give my scones character. The salt, of course, could be omitted but would result in very bland scones. Next, I added a spoon of my best anointing oil which was olive oil from the vegetable kingdom. At last, I was ready to add the final element from the vegetable kingdom. This was the flour element christened in the name of legendary King Arthur. I added the flour a little at a time to the mixture while stirring it all together with a large spoon. The goal is to form a solid, but pliable mass similar to that of modeling clay. In our case the pliable mixture is referred to a dough. There is a delicate art to getting the consistency just right which can only be learned through experience. I continued to add flour and mix the dough until it clung together in a ball and wasn't too sticky to handle by hand. Again, what this feels and looks like will come with experience.
For the next step, I removed the bowl from the altar and sprinkled some of the vegetable element, flour, onto the surface of the alter. I found it helpful to rub some of the flour element onto my hands as well. I then gently removed the mass of dough from the bowl and placed it upon the altar. Using my bare hands I worked the mass in a kneading fashion. You can roll it up, squish it around, squeeze and stretch it, or just keep folding it into itself. The thing to do is to just keep working it. If it starts to stick to your hands, add a bit more flour. After a few minutes of working the dough I noticed that the texture was smoothing out--this is a good thing. Once I had the mass formed and kneaded to my satisfaction I poured a bit of anointing oil into a clean earthenware bowl. I then placed the dough mass into the bowl and rolled it around to coat the entire surface with the oil. Finally, I draped a linen over the bowl and left it alone for the next hour or so to allow nature to perform her magic.
When I returned to check on my creation, I was pleasantly surprised to find a large bulge in my linen; my dough mass had outgrown the bowl. At this stage the scone is wild, unruly, and too large to be practical. The next step was fun for me and reminded me of the old maxim: Divide and Conquer. This is where I reformed the mass of dough into its final form and made it my own. I removed the linen and used my fist to punch that bulging dough ball back down to size. I did not simply punch it once, I beat it flat out, turned it over, and beat it again. I beat it until my frustrations were properly spent. And then, I wiped the sweat off my brow and moved on to the next step.
I prepared a metal pan by smearing the inside surfaces with anointing oil. I then reformed my mangled mass of dough into a ball and divided and shaped it into twelve equal sized spheres. With the loving-care of a new mother, I placed the twelve spheres, evenly spaced, in my prepared pan. As before, I covered my orbs of dough with linen and left them at the mercy of nature for the next hour or so.
Upon returning, I found my linen had bulged slightly above the top of my pan. I removed the linen to find that my scones had all grown up and gaps, that were between them, had filled in. Needless to say I was thrilled beyond words. By candlelight, my scones looked like twelve full moons. All that remained was the final step: Purgatory by fire. Everything that lives, must die, including Philosopher's scones. I placed my pan of scones in my preheated furnace. Occasionally, I peered into the furnace to check the progress. After about twenty-five minutes the skins on top of my scones had turned to golden brown--transmutation was complete. I removed my scones and sat them aside whilst I collected the animal kingdom element known as butter from the refrigerator. While still piping hot, I slit the scones open and inserted a generous pat of butter in each and every one. I then, shamelessly partook of their deliciousness. I did, of course, leave one buttered scone on the alter as an offering to Athena.
A final note for those who attempt to make their own Philosopher's Scones. A common problem is that the scones fail to spawn life. The dreaded stillborn scone has a few causes: dead yeast, overheated water, or even that negative disposition I talked about earlier. Whatever the case, lifeless scones will neither grow nor mature. If you do prepare the dead scones and put then in the furnace, the process will yield small spheres which are hard like rocks. Sorry, my friend, these are not philosopher's scones. These hardened orbs are what us alchemists refer to as Philosopher's Stones. The Philosopher's Stone is divine folly; mere possession of said stone is proof of a failed alchemist.
Posted: April 21, 2024, 1:31 am