Already in the new year – but three days into the mix – my sentience has once again been overtaken by custom and habit, the accomplice though faithful resort of humanity, the inescapable fuel of activity, the acknowledged elixir of life. The tendency though both predictable and inexcusably repetitive is not without its worthiness; it is not simply a relaxation from novel ingenuity or prolonged productivity. Instead the deviation from more innovative conduct is an admission of compatibility and utility. Essentially there is quantity to be derived from idiosyncrasy and eccentricity.

So enthused by these readily available resources were the ancient alchemists that they supposed lead could be turned into gold. You might be amused to know that the creation of an elixir (a transformation by a magical process) derives from late Middle English: via medieval Latin from Arabic al-‘iksīr, from al ‘the’ + ‘iksīr from Greek xērion ‘powder for drying wounds’ (from xēros ‘dry’). My personal alignment with the etymology is a recollection of the once critical office device called a Xerox photocopier (reportedly a contraction of xerography, an inkless, dry printer using common metal plates and dry powders).

For centuries, elixir primarily meant an ingredient used in alchemy, either referring to a liquid which purportedly converts lead to gold, or a substance or liquid which is believed to cure all ills and give eternal life. That which would indefinitely prolong life (more fully elixir vitae, “elixir of life”) was considered to be closely related to, or even identical with, the substance for transmuting metals.

The stimulus for what we now mock as ridiculous was however nothing much different from what we unintentionally equate with similar present-day elixirs; that is, our own private (and quotidian) potions for remedial effect. Indeed I consider it a more beneficial leap from my personal habits to distillation than from lead to gold – though I hasten to confirm my preference for the latter. In short the value of elixirs – whether based upon alchemy or routine – is a potation or tincture to improve one’s life.

This morning prior to putting on the nosebag for breakfast I was reminded of this deduction when materializing in the drawing room and regarding the distant view along the river.  It was a cool, grey vista, a metaphor of Nature’s temporary halt in preparation of impending change. I readily forgive myself the repeated indulgence of the upriver view, not because of its undeniable custom nor because of its obvious immediacy, but because it is human nature to regurgitate a daily capitulation to recognition and acceptance. We absorb that which suits our particular manner and daily provocation, a prescription which by definition survives repeated exposure.  This morning for example I delighted at table to have 2 eggs over-easy glistening with avacado oil and Maldon salt. The Sacrament of Heaven! It invoked a lifetime reminiscence of boarding school familiarity.

Laugh, dear Reader, if you will concerning the modest quality of the exclamation; but, I ask you, is it any less proximate or delectable than the sparkling light of the horizon greeting one’s wary or ambivalent glance upon awakening! Like it or not we are products of the here and now. It therefore behooves us to extort from this vast barrel of rainwater all that is nutritious and energizing, the aqua vitae.