Those of you who, like myself, possess a mercurial nature will know how stultifying it can be having to conform to other people’s expectations of who we should be from one day to the next.
While not burdened with quite the affliction or curse, say, that lycanthropy represents for its sufferers, those born with a mercurial bent are nonetheless unpredictable shape-shifters, prone to inexplicable changes of temperament and outlook as the mood takes them.
Within the context of Spiritual Alchemy, mercury or quicksilver is an essential ingredient in bringing completion to the Great Work. Being at once both fluid and a metal, mercury exists between worlds. It is made of the dense physical stuff of the terrestrial plane, but it is also “alive” or filled with Spirit (the quick in quicksilver, here, then, meaning alive, like as in the saying the quick and the dead).
Alchemists believed it was the marriage (or conjunction) ultimately of the terrestrial and celestial planes that led to the discovery of the philosopher’s stone or lapis philosophorum, to use its fancy Latin name.
And I feel we mercurial beings who have our heads in the clouds while are hearts are mired in the crazy machinations of the human world are simply alchemical works in progress. It makes us volatile creatures; we fizz and spit, and our heads fill with steam should someone try to put a stopper in who we are.
Don’t feel offended by us, though, if you are not of a mercurial mould yourself. We are slippery customers us mercurial folk, and we can be as changeable as the Spring weather.
As is the often the case, I believe there are some lyrics to a particular song that sum up what I am trying to say best:
I can change
I can change, I can change
But I’m here in my mold
I am here in my mold
And I’m a million different people
from one day to the next
I can’t change my mold
No, no, no, no, no
I can’t change
I can’t change…
“Bittersweet Symphony” – The Verve