Every human being lives and acts according to that which they believe to be right at the time. Later, perhaps, for some more often than not, that which was right to do yesterday seems wrong on retrospect today. Each action however can only truly be assessed within the context of the prevailing circumstances and environment. How few there are who follow their own inner sense of right and wrong and allow others to do likewise, without interfering.
It is extraordinary how often the name 'Paracelsus' is found dotted throughout esoteric and exoteric literature. He is as fine an example of the archetype 'Genius Angry at a Bureaucratic World' as you are likely to find anywhere in history books. Of course the doctors and scientists of today now laugh at how silly their ancestors of the sixteenth century were not to listen to one who knew so much, but this begs the question as to how warm a reception he would receive before a modern audience of undergraduates and Professors, whether of Orthodox or the so-called 'Alternative' persuasion.
There is one major difficulty in writing anything worthwhile on this subject. No-one currently alive ever met the man. If we are interested - and why shouldn't we be - in finding out a little about one who in this case died, so we are told, on September 21st 1541, or (September 24th depending which book you read), we are obliged to rely on the pieced together accounts of the various historians, or read what he himself wrote.
Aureolus Philippus Theophrastus Bombast von Hohenheim, who called himself 'Paracelsus', was a rather prolific writer of short books on the subjects of Medicine, philosophy and Alchemy. At the time. Alchemy was a respected if often misused term used to describe a multitude of things relating chiefly to the process of purifying metals. To get rich quick, one simply needed to know an Alchemist and be given the correct 'lead into gold' recipe. Some Alchemists were hard working metallurgists, others were equally hard working con men. The third category - that of those who were actually engaged in the work of 'Raising Vibrations' as part of assisting in the Evolutionary Process and who as a test of their current batch of 'Medicine' would perhaps see if a little of it could raise a metal up a rung or two on the evolutionary ladder - hardly deserves a mention. They were so few and far between and in general so far from the public eye, that if one did a tour of the known Alchemists in a sixteenth century city, one could be fairly sure not to meet one of the latter group.
Literature concerning Paracelsus deals chiefly with two things. It quotes verbatum from his books - or rather as close to verbatum as the translator can get, as the meanings of many words and concepts are hard to understand in any language. Or it traces his life from childhood in the woods of Switzerland, through to the bitterness and anger at the medieval scientific establishment that marked his later life.
His life story seems to trigger a sympathetic response in many. We find in him a champion against the Stuffed Shirt. An example of one who favoured a direct, radical approach to the process of learning rather than the 'Do Not Rock The Boat Because It Is Too Lucrative' approach common to the medical schools of the day. He wished to teach in the common German language, much to the horror of those to whom the medieval latin was the proper language of the scholar. In the Basle market place we are told, in front of students, Professors and their current and prospective patients, he burned the books of the up to then God-like Avicenna. There are also references to an interesting set of experiments he wished to carry out on human faeces, the beginning of which, so the story goes, has him carrying a plate full into a class of, so we are told, rather overwhelmed medical students.
The only text-book he showed any respect for was personal experience. He despised and condemned those medical students who graduated as doctors without having had any practical experience with the sick. If his writings are any indication of the contempt with which he held his peers the man himself must have been dynamite. Tact seems not to have been one of his most noted attributes. The European medical establishment became littered with embarrased doctors, who in an effort to protect the status quo made his life as difficult as they could. The establishments' main difficulty in this regard seems to have been Paracelsus' extraordinary success rate in treating all manner of diseases. As there is nothing the selfconceited dread more than being exposed for the fools they are, there was a limit to how far they could go in their anti-Paracelsian activities.
Experience then as now, comes only one way. The hard way. From the mines of the Tyrol, among Gypsys and vagabonds, from Moscow to Cairo, through Ireland, Finland, Spain, the Middle East. For years he travelled, learning and experimenting, constantly adding to his store-house of knowledge and experience. Theory was fine, but only as a preliminary guide to how practice should proceed. If someone says 'I know', one assumes they are quoting their own practical experience, for what real value is a system based on another's experience?
Approaching the works of Paracelsus can be a daunting exercise. Although more than many other authors of Alchemical literature he is committed to the open statement of the Truth as he sees it, so many of the concepts are so obscure by nature, for those not versed in his system, that the innocent student quickly becomes overwhelmed.
As everything should be attempted with some purpose in mind, the question arises, why study the works of Paracelsus? For some, there seems to be some comfort in befuddling the brain with mysteries and secret things. The more mysterious and high-sounding a book, the more highly it is regarded. One gets lost in the idea of the great personages who can not only write but also understand these things. It gives a sense of temporary relief and comfort knowing that one possesses THIS book which contains all those amazing ideas. Pretty soon though, the effect wears off and one finds another book containing even more mysteries.
Reading books is not a waste of time, but reading books that tell you to do things, without either the intention to do them and subsequent efforts in that direction, or the conscious intention not to do them but perhaps to compare them with things one is doing, is. After all we read books supposedly to learn things, but learning from another's experience is only possible when you make their experience become your experience by doing what they suggest.
The books written by Paracelsus are not for everybody. It is wonderful that in this age of efficient communication they stare at you off many a bookshop and library shelf, but this does not alter the fact that they may not be the right thing for you, now. If on the other hand one perseveres with a study of his writings, they will gradually open up to the industrious unraveller great scope for practical experimentation.
If the treasure-house of Alchemy has a series of doors, then the key to the first must surely be patience and hard work. These virtues Paracelsus requires of his readers. He obtained his knowledge the hard way and he does not easily part with it to those of the cursory glance. Do not expect an easy journey through this man's writings. He is as difficult dead as we are lead to believe he was when alive. There are many more comprehensible works on the bookstore shelves. Be content to be inspired by his biography and leave it at that, unless you truly wish to study what this great man has left us. Reading in this case is just not enough.
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