Raziel
Mysterious Stranger
- Joined
- Jun 6, 2026
- Messages
- 22
Greetings! I hope I have chosen the right section for this topic and an appropriate title. My ultimate question lies in the final paragraph, namely: how to mystically assemble Ymir.
A bit of context to understand my motivation. I spent several years studying the texts of a certain sorcerer, and if there is interest, I can share some of the notes he published openly here. The text below is exactly one of those. This sorcerer recently passed away, and I began rereading my saved notes, which I once considered the most crucial. For obvious reasons, I can no longer consult with him, but since this recipe is closely tied to alchemy, I hope you can help me make sense of it or offer some hints. I should also note that although this sorcerer claimed to have no interest in alchemy, many of the terms show that certain principles from this art were clearly utilized. Furthermore, I believe that sympathetic magic, in its ultimate aim, allows one to penetrate the secrets of nature, just as alchemy does, albeit through a different path.
Now, I will quote the text:
Precipitation.
The first problem, related to destruction and banishment—or rather, the release of the spirit and its subsequent return and retention—must be resolved at the very beginning of one's inquiries. Until this matter is thoroughly studied by the practitioner, many forms of sympathetic magic will remain barren and lead only to deplorable disappointment.
This must be known about the nature of the spirit: it is material, yet invisible and highly volatile. Because of its lightness, it is swiftly carried away by air currents and dissipates, leaving the hapless sorcerer empty-handed.
If you ask me about the nature of this spirit, I will answer:
"Hæc est totíus fortitúdinis fortitúdo fórtis, quía víncet ómnem rem subtílem, omnémque sólidam penetrábit."
And indeed, there is nothing more to be said here about the nature of the spirit or the force hidden within things. However, we must now explain how to grasp it and subject its inherent force to one's will.
Let us agree from the outset that by "destruction" we mean the transformation of matter, and by the "banishment and return of the spirit" we mean the natural, cyclical movement of force. After all, we are dealing with "natural magic," albeit of the lower sympathetic kind in this instance. Be that as it may, both lower sympathetic and higher ceremonial magic are subject to the same law, which is merely an expression of universal truth:
Quod est inférius est sícut id quod est supérius. Et quod est supérius est sícut id quod est inférius, ad perpetránda mirácula réi uníus.
Based on this, let us begin the work and perform this operation. Take two bowls of glazed clay; let one be named "Heaven" and the other "Earth". Let "Heaven" completely cover "Earth". Now, pour water into "Earth" and place a tea leaf or some other herb into the water. Cover "Earth" with "Heaven", forming the "Womb of the World"—a hermetically sealed space within which the transformation of things will occur. Next, place fire beneath "Earth". The water heats up and begins to steam; the spirit is banished from the plant and, along with the water vapor, rises up to "Heaven". When the fire is removed, the vapor that carried the spirit banished from the plant will condense back into water droplets and descend upon "Earth". At the same time, the spirit banished from the plant will return and be precipitated within the decoction, as it is said:
"Ascéndit a térra in cǽlum, iterúmque descéndit in térram".
This applies equally to decoction and to the burning of animal components into ash. The spirit released from the incinerated parts of animal and bird bodies remains in the ash, having been captured and precipitated in a similar manner.
It is also favorable if Heaven does not oppose the various transformations. Truly, it is better to follow the universal course of nature, thereby securing Heaven's support for success in one's endeavors.
Moderate heating in several stages; fire is the sun, there is day and there is night. This allows the spirit to move up and down. From then on, everything is governed by numbers, in improvised diurnal cycles (heating/cooling); here, it is a matter of time.
Furthermore, if we speak of vapor loss, it concerns not only the weakening of the spirit contained within the "womb," but also the attraction (or repulsion) and involvement of other classes of Spirits in the work. This is because evaporation is already a form of fumigation or incense, which exerts an influence on the environment in which the operation takes place.
All things must have a foundation. The spirit seeks a foundation in a thing, and a thing is found among things. A thing is strengthened by another thing, achieving unity within a single thing, and the spirit descends and takes residence. Behold the most ancient of foundations: that which was divided into many things must be gathered into one. One begets two and three, and this gives rise to generations.
Seawater, river water, rainwater, meltwater, fog in the mountains and lowlands, dirt, silt, clay, earths and stones, metal ores, trees, shrubs, human dust, and blood, when mixed, manifest the human corpse—the foundation of Aurgelmir. That which is scattered is gathered and rightly assembled: the work of heat and cold, and of evaporation. From the primal mud, this breath gives birth to "mercurial drops"; these drops merge together, giving birth to the ancient god—Ymir.
A bit of context to understand my motivation. I spent several years studying the texts of a certain sorcerer, and if there is interest, I can share some of the notes he published openly here. The text below is exactly one of those. This sorcerer recently passed away, and I began rereading my saved notes, which I once considered the most crucial. For obvious reasons, I can no longer consult with him, but since this recipe is closely tied to alchemy, I hope you can help me make sense of it or offer some hints. I should also note that although this sorcerer claimed to have no interest in alchemy, many of the terms show that certain principles from this art were clearly utilized. Furthermore, I believe that sympathetic magic, in its ultimate aim, allows one to penetrate the secrets of nature, just as alchemy does, albeit through a different path.
Now, I will quote the text:
Precipitation.
The first problem, related to destruction and banishment—or rather, the release of the spirit and its subsequent return and retention—must be resolved at the very beginning of one's inquiries. Until this matter is thoroughly studied by the practitioner, many forms of sympathetic magic will remain barren and lead only to deplorable disappointment.
This must be known about the nature of the spirit: it is material, yet invisible and highly volatile. Because of its lightness, it is swiftly carried away by air currents and dissipates, leaving the hapless sorcerer empty-handed.
If you ask me about the nature of this spirit, I will answer:
"Hæc est totíus fortitúdinis fortitúdo fórtis, quía víncet ómnem rem subtílem, omnémque sólidam penetrábit."
And indeed, there is nothing more to be said here about the nature of the spirit or the force hidden within things. However, we must now explain how to grasp it and subject its inherent force to one's will.
Let us agree from the outset that by "destruction" we mean the transformation of matter, and by the "banishment and return of the spirit" we mean the natural, cyclical movement of force. After all, we are dealing with "natural magic," albeit of the lower sympathetic kind in this instance. Be that as it may, both lower sympathetic and higher ceremonial magic are subject to the same law, which is merely an expression of universal truth:
Quod est inférius est sícut id quod est supérius. Et quod est supérius est sícut id quod est inférius, ad perpetránda mirácula réi uníus.
Based on this, let us begin the work and perform this operation. Take two bowls of glazed clay; let one be named "Heaven" and the other "Earth". Let "Heaven" completely cover "Earth". Now, pour water into "Earth" and place a tea leaf or some other herb into the water. Cover "Earth" with "Heaven", forming the "Womb of the World"—a hermetically sealed space within which the transformation of things will occur. Next, place fire beneath "Earth". The water heats up and begins to steam; the spirit is banished from the plant and, along with the water vapor, rises up to "Heaven". When the fire is removed, the vapor that carried the spirit banished from the plant will condense back into water droplets and descend upon "Earth". At the same time, the spirit banished from the plant will return and be precipitated within the decoction, as it is said:
"Ascéndit a térra in cǽlum, iterúmque descéndit in térram".
This applies equally to decoction and to the burning of animal components into ash. The spirit released from the incinerated parts of animal and bird bodies remains in the ash, having been captured and precipitated in a similar manner.
It is also favorable if Heaven does not oppose the various transformations. Truly, it is better to follow the universal course of nature, thereby securing Heaven's support for success in one's endeavors.
Moderate heating in several stages; fire is the sun, there is day and there is night. This allows the spirit to move up and down. From then on, everything is governed by numbers, in improvised diurnal cycles (heating/cooling); here, it is a matter of time.
Furthermore, if we speak of vapor loss, it concerns not only the weakening of the spirit contained within the "womb," but also the attraction (or repulsion) and involvement of other classes of Spirits in the work. This is because evaporation is already a form of fumigation or incense, which exerts an influence on the environment in which the operation takes place.
All things must have a foundation. The spirit seeks a foundation in a thing, and a thing is found among things. A thing is strengthened by another thing, achieving unity within a single thing, and the spirit descends and takes residence. Behold the most ancient of foundations: that which was divided into many things must be gathered into one. One begets two and three, and this gives rise to generations.
Seawater, river water, rainwater, meltwater, fog in the mountains and lowlands, dirt, silt, clay, earths and stones, metal ores, trees, shrubs, human dust, and blood, when mixed, manifest the human corpse—the foundation of Aurgelmir. That which is scattered is gathered and rightly assembled: the work of heat and cold, and of evaporation. From the primal mud, this breath gives birth to "mercurial drops"; these drops merge together, giving birth to the ancient god—Ymir.
