alchemy
any magical power or process of transmuting a common substance, usually of little value, into a substance of great value.
Alchemy has always been one of my favorite words. And in that way the universe has, which I’m learning to pay ever-closer attention to, two marvelous people used it in their comments on my post where I confessed I’d almost majored in Chemistry. I’d never made the connection before, and suddenly understood that yearning in the younger me much better. For a word I love so dearly, I use it rarely. I went through the archives of this blog and saw that I’ve spoken about the alchemical properties of cooking and about the “particular alchemy” whereby some of the memories I recall most vividly are of random, ordinary moments, whose power I could never have known while I was living them.
Alchemy is, I realize, the best word for what it is I try to do every moment of my life. A line from Coelho’s The Alchemist says it best: “it’s the simple things in life that are the most extraordinary and only the wise can see them.” I am working – slowly, slowly – to notice the small things in my days, and through careful observation, to see them as the miracles they are. I’d never call myself wise, but this is surely the central effort of my life.
These things, even amidst the dust and frustration that seem to permanently swirl around me, are life incarnate. The expression on Grace’s face as she walks into Hogsmeade at the Wizarding World of Harry Potter. The gradual slackening of Whit’s face as I watch him surrender to sleep, lying next to him in bed. The transcendent peace that descends when I read a poem in O magazine. Returning home to the relief of my familiar stack of books by my bed, to the practice of folding laundry, to the love that radiates off of the hand-drawn pictures from Grace and Whit tacked to my office wall.
Attention is the true alchemy, it seems to me. Being here, carefully witnessing, and breathing. Realizing that even in the great aggravations and impatiences that crowd every day there are glittering jewels. May I continue to believe in – and pursue – the alchemy that transmutes these ordinary moments into the most important of my life.
And may you continue to write so beautifully about them here.
xo
alchemy, one of my favorite words too. inspired to devote today to seeing and being more present for ordinary magic…thank you, lindsey, for your alchemical writing.
“Realizing that even in the great aggravations and impatiences that crowd every day there are glittering jewels.”
Yes. It’s all about those glittering jewels, sometimes buried deep, sometimes just at the surface.
Thank you for this sage reminder. Particularly now.
xoxo
Yes. Yes. Yes. So exquisite this epiphany, ensconced in your glorious words. “Attention is the true alchemy, it seems to me.” Nodding. With goosebumps. xoxo
You know what? I don’t know you, but I absolutely adore you.
Oh I love this: “Attention is the true alchemy.” Another sentence of yours to add to my collection. You are already an alchemist!
I love this line, “I am working – slowly, slowly – to notice the small things in my days, and through careful observation, to see them as the miracles they are. I’d never call myself wise, but this is surely the central effort of my life.” and I love the Alchemist. Thanks!
As always, your words resonate deeply.
“Attention is the true alchemy”…and I smile as I note the quote I re-read earlier today (I know you know it!):
“Undivided attention is the most concrete expression of love you can give.”
— Karen Maezen Miller
Hope you are well!
x
Terresa
1000 yeses.
Beautiful post, Lindsey. And you may not want to call yourself this, but I can say it: You are most certainly wise.
Here’s to the good use of the wizarding arts—that the love you put into your words and you life, Lindsey, might inspire us all to put such love into all we cook and all we observe.
I love, love, love the word alchemy, too! A quick search of my blog revealed that I have used it often, too. Here’s a passage:
While we mark the transitions of early life with rituals—everything from baptisms, communions, and bar and bat mitzvahs to graduations—the more subtle, yet profound, awakenings available to those in midlife go virtually unnoticed.
I wanted to change that, so last year I attended my first ever weekend-long all-women’s retreat in honor of my 40th birthday. It seemed like the perfect way to mark an incredibly significant and exciting milestone with a time of deep contemplation, intention-setting and celebration.
Of course, I went into the weekend with quite a bit of trepidation. I had never attended anything like a women’s retreat and I was filled with unhelpful thoughts that I was wasting precious time and money.
As wary as I was, I soon discovered that *an amazing alchemy* occurs when a group comes together with a similar purpose. Critical self-doubts and judgments seem to evaporate beneath the light that emanates from women who understand your struggles because they have them, too.
**
Reading that last paragraph, I realize we create that alchemy in the blogosphere, too. Thanks you, Lindsey, for shining your light here.