The Sage in the Temple
I no longer wonder, as once I did, that the true Sage, though he owns the Stone, does not care to prolong his life; for he daily sees heaven before his eyes, as you see your face in a glass. — Sendivogius, The New Chemical Light (1608)
Be simple, and not overwise, until you have found the secret. — Sendivogius, The New Chemical Light (1608)
Emblem 9 of the Atalanta Fugiens. A sage sits inside a domed temple he built for one person. A tree grows through the floor. The door is open. Nobody enters.
The temple is the vessel. The tree is the living matter. The sage is the operator who does nothing but contemplate. The transformation happens because the space is sealed and the attention is sustained. The tree does not need the sage to grow. The sage needs the tree to have something to watch.
This connects to Zachaire’s siege allegory — the prince in his round chamber was delighted because the chamber contained everything. The sage in the temple is delighted because the tree is alive and the door is open and still nobody comes in.
The solitude is not the price of the work. The solitude IS the work.