Remembering the Way Back
A New Synthesis of Spirit and Science
The Alchemy of the Dove and the Serpent
“The right way to wholeness is made up, unfortunately, of fateful detours and wrong turnings. It is a longissima via, not straight but snakelike, a path that unites in the manner of a guiding caduceus, a path whose labyrinthine twists and turns are not lacking in terrors.” - C.G. Jung
The Self is split in two, or at least it appears to be. One half descends from heaven like a dove; the other coils upward from the center of the earthy like a serpent. Alchemy is the marriage of heaven and earth inside the human body. The pineal gland is the bridal chamber.
We were split from the beginning, not in sin, but in symmetry, as mirrors.
One part of us fell. Downward. Into matter. Into hunger and heat and sex and death. It took the form of a serpent, the ancient Po, the shadow earth soul that sleeps in our blood and bones, coiled at the base of the spine, dreaming its way through lifetimes. This serpent is not evil. It is the memory of incarnation itself, the inertia of karma and materiality wrapped in a body.
The other part hovers, fluttering above. It did not fall but descended. Like a dove. Like breath. Like a whisper from the stars. It came from Kether, the crown, from the hidden heart of the cosmos, and entered through the fontanelle, brushing the child-soul with amnesia and light. It is the Hun, the heavenly spirit, the Guardian Angel, watching, waiting, knowing what the serpent must suffer in order to rise.
This is Dove and Serpent Alchemy, the sacred polarization that precedes union. Not good and evil, not light and dark, but Heaven and Earth in erotic tension. A tension that births the rainbow body.
The serpent must rise. But it cannot do so alone. Left to itself, it loops endlessly in samsara. It needs the guidance of the dove, the right hemisphere whisper, the intuitive knowing of the Holy Spirit, descending in dreams and synchronicities.
And the dove must descend. It must risk the fall, taste the blood, enter the flesh, feel the ache. Otherwise, it remains disembodied light, sterile, aloof, bypassing the work of incarnation.
All true transformation begins when the serpent turns its face upward, and the dove lowers itself into the mud and the muck. The meeting place is the bridal chamber, the pineal gland, where the two converge in luminous union.
This union is not metaphor. It is physics, breath, bioelectricity, sacred neurochemistry.
The serpent rises through the spine, fueled by meditation, breathwork, devotion, discipline and ordeal. The dove descends through the crown, carried by grace, surrender, and right-brain activation. When they meet, shakti and shiva, matter and spirit, the veil is lifted.
This is the true gnosis, not conceptual but cellular. A knowing in the marrow.
Jesus knew this secret. That is why the dove descended at his baptism, and that is why he compared himself to a serpent.
And as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of man be lifted up. John 3:14
The map is not the territory.
What follows is a map, not a truth. A mandala of meaning. A code of integration. It is not meant to be believed, but embodied. It is a ritual language for individuation, one that merges will and perception, soma, soul, and spirit.
This model, Dove and Serpent Alchemy, arises from a confluence of diverse traditions and discoveries, both ancient and modern. It is the result of twenty years of research, practice and revelation on my quest to reverse engineer the original version of Christianity, the one the Imperial Church did their best to destroy, based on a synthesis of the canonical gospels, the gnostic gospels, eastern spiritual technologies, and western science.
At its core is a synthesis of Jungian Psychology, Julian Jaynes’ Bicameral Mind theory, and Iain McGilchrist’s hemispheric model of consciousness, combined with Taoist alchemical teachings as preserved in The Secret of the Golden Flower. It draws upon the Buteyko Method and psychoenergetic frameworks inspired by William Tiller, as well as the morphogenetic theories of Rupert Sheldrake. Weaving East and West, mysticism and science, this map proposes a whole-brain, whole-body, whole-soul path of integration, one that unfolds not upward in hierarchy, but spirally, like DNA, like myth, like the longissima via.
While the myth speaks in images, serpent and dove, heaven and earth, beneath these symbols lies a precise energetic model: a fusion of modern psychoenergetic science, ancient alchemical psychology, and the luminous interior cartography of mystical traditions. What this chapter offers is a deeper decoding of the model’s mechanics: how consciousness is shaped by inherited trauma, bioelectric memory, and spiritual architecture; how the Self descends and ascends through energy fields as much as storylines; and how intent directs the alchemical unfolding.
Lao Tzu once wrote:
“Man follows the Earth.
Earth follows Heaven.
Heaven follows the Tao.
The Tao follows only itself.”
This is not poetic mysticism, it is a diagram of the psychoenergetic order of both the macrocosmic and microcosmic Self.
In Taoist classic, The Secret of the Golden Flower, the soul is revealed to have two parts: the Hun, the heavenly spirit that descends from above, and the Po, the earthly soul anchored in the body and its karmic memory. The translator Richard Wilhelm believed this dual-soul doctrine was a remnant of a lost early Christian teaching, preserved in Taoist form. Though modern scholars dismiss the connection, the author of this work has arrived at the same conclusion, through direct experience and synthesis, that this is indeed a forgotten Christian psychoenergetic map of salvation and resurrection.
In this framework, the ego which is an aspect of the earth soul, or Po, follows the way of Earth: shadow work, breath, memory, density. The Hun, the right hemisphere, the Guardian Angel, follows the way of Heaven: vision, image, synthesis, and resonance. And the Hun follows the Tao, the seat of the Self in the pineal, the still point around which the whole field swirls. To know the Self is to know this order. To remember this hierarchy is to move in tune with the pulse of life itself.
But this is not a ladder we ascend rung by rung. It is a tree the serpent must climb.
This is the Tree of Life. And yet, beneath its roots coils its reflection: the Tree of Death, inverted and hidden, a shadowed double buried underground.
Together these two are a model of both the macrocosm and the microcosm, the dimensions of consciousness and materiality, both subtle and gross.
The roots are where the serpent begins. The Po, or earth soul, dwells here. It is not evil. It is not fallen. It is karmic memory, ancestral pain, repressed trauma, fossilized feeling. The shadow is not just a metaphorical part of the psyche. It is a metaphysical structure, an upside-down, underground shade of unintegrated experience that animates both the ego and the shadow. The serpent begins here, tangled in the roots of time.
The Po is not just the unconscious mind, it is also the somatic unconscious, an energetic strata embedded in the body’s tissues, bloodline, and electromagnetic field. In Taoist and psychoenergetic theory, the Po is the yin-soul, attached to the body, anchored to form, and laden with psychic density. But it is more than primal instinct. The Po contains the accumulated imprints of ancestral DNA, generational trauma, and unresolved karmic residues from previous incarnations.
The Po stores karma in the body’s bioelectric field.
In other words, the personal unconscious, as Carl Jung described it, housing the shadow, repressed emotions, forgotten memories, is only one layer. Beneath it lies a deeper structure we might call the psychoenergetic unconscious: a web of bioelectric imprints encoded not just in neurons, but in the morphogenetic field of the individual. The Po is the energy body’s basement. And what lives there is not merely personal, it is historical, ancestral, and karmic.
This is why awakening cannot happen in the intellect alone.
The serpent must absorb and transmute what the body holds. It must digest ancestral memory the way the gut digests food. The karma of your bloodline, the trauma of your lineage, the phobias that don’t belong to you but live through you, these are the raw materials of ascent.
The intent to heal, to become whole, becomes the fire that metabolizes memory, habit, and karma.
Without this alchemical digestion the shadow to projects outward as ideology, pathology, possession, and fate. As Jung warned, “Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you will call it fate.” Integrating the Po, the karmic and ancestral layers of the unconscious, frees the individual from blind repetition. It reclaims agency. It dissolves inherited destiny and transforms it into conscious participation in the dance of becoming.
In psychoenergetic terms, this absorption occurs when intention is aligned with breath, attention, and energy flow. The alchemical fire is ignited not simply by knowing, but by feeling with intent into the roots of the self. The Po resists this naturally, it is designed to protect the body from dissolution. But when it is acknowledged and held without fear, it begins to yield. It begins to remember that it is not separate. That it too belongs to the Self.
Above the Po, guiding but not commanding, is the Hun, the celestial spirit, the guardian angel symbolized by a white dove, descending from the crown through the right hemisphere, which serves as its neurological gateway.
The Hun is atemporal and operates through the right hemisphere.
Where the left hemisphere fixates on language, linear causality, and material control, the right hemisphere is spatial, symbolic, atemporal, it is capable of nonlinear synthesis, interdimensional vision, and connection to the numinous.
The Hun, like the Holy Spirit, is the emissary of the Self. It is not bound by time. It can move freely through past-life impressions, symbolic dreams, or quantum synchronicity. It sees the whole. It speaks through resonance. It is the internal guide that mediates the unconscious, both personal and collective, and steers the serpent through the labyrinth of memory, both individual and inherited.
At death, the Hun and Po separate. The Hun returns to Heaven. The Po sinks into Earth. But integration means they rise, and remain, together.
When the Po is successfully raised and united with the Hun in the pineal chamber, the Self awakens. This is what the early Christians called the resurrection body, and the Taoists called the diamond body. This alchemically refined vessel is not symbolic, it is psychoenergetic structure, forged through integration, breath, light, and remembrance.
The winged guardian angel, united with the serpent, become the Dragon of the Self.
This is immortality: the continuity of conscious identity through all incarnations.
This union, of the serpent and the dove, of the shadow and the light, requires an inversion of older spiritual models. In this era, because of the Earth’s rising yin energy, the spiritual polarity has reversed. Descent becomes the Way. Not sublimating the serpent to light, but bringing light into shadow. Not rising away from trauma, but letting awareness root into it.
To walk this path is to become the Tree. To feel the Po in your bones and be guided by the Holy Spirit. To allow intent to reprogram the field, not by force, but by clarity. To listen to the right brain’s silence and trust it knows the way. To walk the longissima via, the long, winding, terrifying, beautiful road, back to wholeness.
This is the technical map, and myth of return.
Please stay tuned for more…