Table Of ContentTHE DIARY OF A MODERN ALCHEMIST
The
Diary of a
Modern Alchemist
J. H. Reyner,
A.C.G.I., B.SC., D.I.C., F.I.E.E.
LONDON
NEVILLE SPEARMAN
First published in Great Britain
By Neville Spearman Limited
112 Whitfield Street, London W1P 6DP
© J. H. Reyner 1974
SBN 85435 172 8
PREFACE
This is a very personal book, yet it deals with age-old themes of universal
significance.
An electronics engineer with an orthodox scientific background, Mr Reyner gives a
vision of life which is far more real and more purposeful than the mechanical
existence we often accept as our lot.
Apart from claiming that science and religion are complementary aspects of the
universe, he also suggests that through a kind of psychological alchemy the
experiences of everyday living can be transformed in quality. Instead of being driven
by life, we can develop the true art of living.
Time, says the author, is an illusion of the senses. Moreover, the senses provide only
a restricted portrayal of a real world where ESP and other paranormal phenomena
assume their rightful place.
Finally, he suggests that the Philosopher’s Stone, mystical goal of the alchemist, is
already in our possession, for it is the link with the reality of our true origin.
FOREWORD
We live in a disintegrating society. This is not a gloomy prognostication of incipient
breakdown, but simply means that the proliferation of detail involves an increasing
departure from unity and is thereby an exercise in decreasing consciousness. Real
progress entails a response to the integrating influences in the Universe, but this is
only vaguely understood in the hypnotism of material achievement.
Such was my own experience. I was trained as a scientist and for many years was
fully and happily occupied with the exciting activities of my profession. I paid lip-
service to conventional religious beliefs, which I regarded as relevant to a vaguely-
defined future existence. In middle life, however, a chance encounter brought me into
contact with the late Maurice Nicoll, whose philosophy provided me with entirely new
horizons.
I discovered that science and religion are not incompatible, but are complementary
aspects of a Universe of far greater magnificence that I had formerly envisaged, and
which gradually began to acquire for me a living reality. The process involves a kind
of psychological alchemy by which the everyday experiences of life are transformed
in quality. They become part of a more meaningful pattern of which one is aware
simultaneously with the necessary life activities. How this may be achieved in
practice I have endeavoured to illustrate from my own experience.
J. H. Reyner
CONTENTS
Page
Foreword 6
1. The Real Adventure 9
2. The Unmanifest World 15
3. The Human Computer 20
4. The Living Universe 25
5. Change of Mind 34
6. The House in Disorder 40
7. Extra-sensory Perception 45
8. Consciousness and Intelligence 55
9. The Nature of Time 60
10. Changing the Past 66
11. The Place of Man 70
12. The Nourishment of the Universe 76
13. The Already-existing Pattern 82
14. In Search of Magic 85
15. The Philosopher’s Stone 89
Index 96
FIGURES
Figure Page
1. Symbolic Representation of Sleeping Man (from the Mutus Liber) 19
2. The Ray of Creation 29
3. Illustrating the Superior Possibilities created by an Additional Dimension 31
4. Illustrating the Possibility of Different Transits through the Domain of Eternity 63
5. The Great Octave 73
6. The Food Octave 78
7. Illustrating Additional Energies created by Conscious Intake of Impressions 80
CHAPTER ONE
THE REAL ADVENTURE
“Where shall I begin, please your Majesty?” asks the White Rabbit in Lewis Carroll’s
immortal classic. “Begin at the beginning”, says the King gravely, “and go on till you
come to the end; then stop.” Life, though, has many beginnings and endings. It is a
succession of experiences, some trivial, others more meaningful, each of which in its
time occupies our attention and interest. When we are very young, every day is a
new adventure, but this sense of delight is soon subordinated to the apparently more
significant pursuit of attainment.
One’s early life, indeed, is necessarily occupied with learning how to contend with the
conditions of existence. We find ourselves in a world which in many respects
conforms to recognisable and consistent laws, but in which the pattern of events
seems to be at the mercy of an arbitrary, and even capricious, Fate. For us, meaning
is derived primarily from pitting one’s wits against the vagaries of chance, which
becomes an absorbing, and often exciting exercise affording little opportunity for
speculation as to any deeper implications.
There are some who believe that this is, in fact, the only meaning in life. They
maintain that man has no individual destiny, his usefulness being determined solely
by the contributions he makes to the fund of human knowledge. Yet most of us are
not entirely convinced by these assumptions of human omniscience and
acknowledge an innate, if inarticulate, belief in an Intelligence of a superior order. We
are content to regard life as a kind of proving ground, in which the kaleidoscopic, and
often apparently unjust, experiences constitute some form of preparation for a future
state of existence.
Such was the comfortable philosophy of my youth, based on an uncritical acceptance
of a conventional religious upbringing. It makes no demands beyond conformity to an
idealistic code of morality, within which one is free to pursue the ambitions of material
comfort and success to the best of one’s ability. These activities provide a
satisfactory, and even exciting meaning. Yet after a time a certain staleness creeps
in. Every achievement merely creates the desire for more. We attempt to vary the
pattern by seeking new experiences and relaxations, or even by changing our
environment; but the escape is illusory, for we find that the new situations are
basically ‘the mixture as before’. Gradually we begin to perceive that the only real
adventure is that of life itself.
This, however, seems to be in the nature of a mystery tour. By the rules of the game
we are only aware of the immediate scene, so that the overall pattern and the
ultimate destination remain obscure. The adventure is even more curious in that it is
not a journey in chronological time, but involves an expanded awareness of all one’s
experience; and this we find difficult to understand because all our ordinary attitudes
regard development as necessarily taking place in the future.
There are individuals who, perhaps having made the tour before, have a clearer idea
of where they are going, but for ordinary mortals like myself the essence of the
adventure lies in the discovery for oneself of this greater awareness; and it proves to
be a remarkable inspiring exercise.
* * *
If one seeks beginnings, it seems that my career really started during an English
lesson at school when the master quoted the aphorism ‘Take your opportunities, or
make them’. This appealed to my youthful enthusiasm as a commendably practical
maxim, which became the rule and guide of my faith. Its immediate impact was to
create a certain irresponsibility of character which was to cause me much trouble
later, and my school life was undistinguished.
Nevertheless, by a combination of diligence and fortune I obtained a scholarship to
the City & Guilds Engineering College, from which I graduated in my early twenties
and joined the newly-formed Radio Section of the Post Office. The work was
intriguing, for the art was in its infancy; but even more exciting prospects were
opened up by the birth of broadcasting, creating a growing army of enthusiastic
amateurs who constructed their own receivers from designs published in a variety of
popular journals.
In 1925 a tempting opportunity arose to join one of these organisations and I decided
to forsake the security of Government service for the more adventurous field of radio
journalism. Here I immediately found my métier, for I was able to combine a natural
inventiveness with a flair for writing which began to bring me a certain reputation. The
easy days of the home-constructor era did not last, but by that time I was sufficiently
established to set up as an independent consultant and later to form my own
manufacturing organisation, which provided an adequate and exciting living.
It was a period of rich adventure, including a happy family life and a variety of
recreational interests such as flying. The details are unimportant because all this
activity was no more than the necessary, but mechanical, accumulation of life
experience which we each have to undertake in our own particular sphere.
In general, this phase of one’s life is governed mainly (and quite rightly) by personal
ambition. Yet there are occasions when one is aware of a certain element of destiny.
We all experience chance encounters, and apparent misfortunes, which affect the
whole course of our lives. I became a radio engineer by accident, for it was not my
intention at college, where it was regarded as a second-rate pursuit. Yet it was a field
of pristine opportunities particularly appropriate to my latent talents, for which I often
felt a sense of gratitude. There have been many such ‘accidents’ in my life.
Celtic legend attributes such experiences to Queen Mab, the fairies’ midwife who
brings to birth men’s secret hopes while they sleep. There is a similar suggestion in
Hamlet’s dictum, ‘There’s a divinity that shapes our ends, rough-hew them how we
will’. I have always found this an inspiring idea, not in the sense of some grim pre-
destination, and still less in the belief that one’s life is personally and individually
directed by a benevolent Diety., but as an indication that life contains certain
(unsuspected) patterns of possibilities which we have to strive to fulfil. This is a
positive and meaningful philosophy which we shall discuss later. It is implicit in many
ancient legends, notably in the medieval morality play wherein Death says to
Everyman, ‘Remember that your life is not your own; it is only lent to you’.
* * *
