Why I am not a teacher.
For as long as I’ve been writing about magick, alchemy and esotericism, people have regularly asked if I’ll become their teacher. They want someone to guide them through the rituals, explain the symbolism, answer every question, and reassure them that they’re doing everything correctly. I understand the desire because I felt exactly the same way when I first began. I wished there had been someone with decades of experience standing beside me, someone I could ask every question that arose, someone who could tell me if I was on the right path.
My answer is always the same: no.
That answer isn’t meant to discourage anyone. It’s because I’ve come to believe that nothing could be more damaging to a person’s practice than becoming dependent on another human being to carry them through it. The Great Work isn’t about collecting information, memorizing correspondences, or performing rituals perfectly. It’s about change and becoming someone different. That kind of transformation cannot be borrowed from another.
We live in a culture that wants shortcuts. We assume that if someone already knows the way, we should simply follow behind them. That may work if you’re learning something like how to repair an engine or build a house, but it doesn’t work with inner transformation. The struggle itself is part of the initiation.
Imagine someone helping you lift weights every time the bar became heavy. You might complete the movement, but you wouldn’t become any stronger. The resistance isn’t an obstacle to strength - it’s what creates strength. Every difficult repetition changes your body in ways that would never happen if someone else helped carry the weight for you.
Alchemy and magick work the same way.
The confusion, the frustration, the periods where nothing seems to make sense. The nights spent wrestling with a symbol or a passage that refuses to reveal itself. These aren’t signs that something has gone wrong. They ARE the Work itself. Every sincere effort to understand changes something inside you. It develops intuition. It sharpens discernment. It teaches you to trust direct experience instead of constantly looking over your shoulder for someone else’s approval.
People often mistake information for wisdom. They are NOT the same thing. Wisdom is information that has been lived. It has been tested. It has survived doubt, failure, persistence, and experience. No one can hand that to you.
It’s like watching a baby bird struggle to hatch from its egg. Out of compassion, someone may want to crack the shell open for it. But doing so would rob the bird of the very struggle that strengthens its body enough to survive. The effort of breaking through the shell is not an unfortunate inconvenience. It’s the process by which the bird becomes capable of flight.
The shell has to be broken from the inside.
That’s why, when I write, I don’t think of myself as teaching in the traditional sense. I’m simply drawing maps. I share what I’ve found in source material , what I’ve learned through decades of practice, and what direct experience has taught me. If something on those pages helps someone orient themselves, then I’m grateful. But I have no desire to walk beside them, interpreting every signpost or reassuring them after every step.
Because that isn’t my path to walk.
Every serious practitioner eventually reaches places where no one else can accompany them. There are thresholds that cannot be crossed with another person holding your hand. There are questions no teacher can answer because the answer isn’t verbal or intellectual. It has to emerge from your own practice, your own failures, your own persistence.
The Great Work has always been solitary in this sense. Not because we reject community or friendship, but because no one else can perform your transformation for you. Others can inspire you. They can encourage you. They can point toward the mountain.
But the climb belongs to you and you alone.
The Arcanum Arcanorum, the “secret of secrets”, is the hidden heart of alchemy. It’s not a formula locked in dusty books or a substance you can distill in a lab. It’s the final teaching that all the symbols, rituals, and philosophies are pointing toward: the realization that the true Stone, the true Elixir, is embodied presence. All the stories of transmutation, immortality, and illumination are metaphors for what happens when you step fully into the eternal now. In that stillness, everything you touch is transformed, every wound is healed, and every breath becomes sacred. The “secret of secrets” is not outside you. It is the awareness behind your thoughts, waiting to be remembered.
People chase the Arcanum Arcanorum like treasure hunters, collecting texts, techniques, and theories, thinking the mystery is hidden somewhere out there. But the final revelation is that the Great Work completes itself in you - in your body, your breath, your attention. When you fold laundry with presence, when you strike a karate form with full awareness, when you drink a glass of water as if it were communion, you are practicing the highest alchemy. The “secret of secrets” is this: the divine is never elsewhere. The last initiation happens not in a book or a temple, but in muscle and bone, in the simple act of being awake right now.
El artista que nunca crea arte se vuelve cínico con quienes sí lo hacen. El amante que nunca se arriesga a amar se burla del romance. El pensador que nunca se compromete con una filosofía se burla de la creencia misma.
2/3
“Chinga tu madre”
Confrontativo, machista y hay daño colateral.
“¿Por qué no mejor te vas a la verga?”
Imparcial, directo y además invita a la reflexión.