alchemyworkshoppers [Another in a occasional series noting---and perhaps marching a few steps with---the eclectic parade of conventions that's forever passing through town ... in this case, the International Alchemy Conference, on September 16-18.]

Nowhere in the International Alchemy Conference schedule did it say what alchemy actually is, so I was forced to come up with my own interpretation. Doing so presented a challenge—entering the Long BeachConvention Center willing to withhold my preconceptions and get a dose of whatever it is they were dishing out.  I wasn’t proud that my mind kept falling back on cartoon images of a bearded man with a conical hat churning a bubbling cauldron and reciting an incantation.

Actually, I did a little research before leaving for the conference, consulting Wikipedia—like I said, a little—and finding this: Alchemy is an ancient tradition, the primary objective of which was the creation of the mythical “philosopher’s stone,” vigorously pursued by Harry Potter. The stone was reportedly capable of turning base metals into gold or silver, and act as an “elixir of life” that would confer youth and immortality upon its user.

Walking into the International Alchemy Conference reminded me that I’ve been to the Natural Products Expo, although this affair was hardly as well attended, nor was there near as many booths to tour. Still, people were handing out samples of elixirs that they suggested would make my life better. And while the Natural Products Expo hawks mostly food items for the hipster green consumer, this alchemy thing seemed to promise something much more profound, something that would not only transform my life, but would transmute it. Apparently, I was supposed to want that.

But I couldn’t quite get my mind around what transmutation would make me, or what part alchemy—whatever it is—would play in fulfilling such a promise, or how I might realize when it had been fulfilled. Is alchemy a thing or an action? I tossed the convention schedule. I had the day, and I was willing to talk to a few people, sample a few tinctures and even stand for a minute beneath the Golden Pyramid of Peace, right there with all the others who were either looking for what I was looking for, or selling it.

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The first thing I heard when I entered a morning seminar were the words “rainforest” and “climate change” and “solar,” each in reference to the cataclysm we are supposedly going to incur if we don’t change a few things about how we live. I know this as well as the next person and I’m still pumping gas into my car while I curse BP.

I took a seat with the hope of learning something new from the tanned-and-youthful-looking speaker. I listened for some alchemyjohnanolivia definition of alchemy, or at least a sample of it. I was not disappointed—within 20 minutes, youngish-and-tan was passing out a thick amber substance, squirting it like toothpaste on the back of my hand for me to lick off. It was camu, a magical rainforest fruit, supposedly good for rejuvenation. The man told us he harvests it from the Amazon and distills it in a saleable form—as a tea, a topical or a tonic. Apparently, alchemy tastes like sweet mud.

Then I found out Amazon John does $10 million in sales every year, and is married to Olivia Newton-John. I began to recalculate his tan, guessing that it didn’t come from hard work under a tropical sun—everybody knows you can’t get a tan under a rainforest canopy.

But I still didn’t know what alchemy is.

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My pursuit of the answer took me  to The Golden Pyramid of Peace, at the far end of the exhibition hall, where I arrived to find a crystal the size of a Smart Car being caressed by a bunch of people with serene countenances. A portly man with a VIP badge, wearing a top hat, began instructing the hundred or so of us to stand tightly in a circle around the giant gem. His histrionics included deep bows and wide swings of his arms to symbolize the merging of the crowd, but of course he looked more like a circus ringleader.

Thus began the opening ceremony of the International Alchemy Conference. Sure enough, a coven of women were called upon to recite a lengthy oration, which sounded eerily like a witches spell—and, forgive me, revived the kind of cartoonish images I had in my mind when I arrived—or the musical Cats.

alchemypyramid Next was introduced the architect of the Golden Pyramid of Peace, and I made note as mention was made of his degrees in alchemy and hermetics, as well as several in business (which sounded incongruous to me), although none in architecture.

“Joy is the Philosopher’s Stone,” the architect of the Golden Pyramid of Peace told the audience straightforwardly—and there  it was! While everyone else nodded raptly, I snatched the architect’s truth and put it to work: if alchemy is about creating the philosopher’s stone, and the philosopher’s stone is about joy, then alchemy is about joy, right?

To seal the syllogism, a woman began to sing a sappy song, but the sound system was derailing her rendition with its rapid-fire feedback. “The energy in here is so high,” the guy in the top hat explained, “that we are shorting out the electronics.” It sounded more like a highway patrol officer’s radio on the night of a 10-car pileup.

And then they brought it up: the End of the World, which is supposed to happen in 2012, and I wanted to run across the street and catch the Blue Line. But I stayed, and good thing, else I wouldn’t have learned that they are planning next year’s conference, anyway. “The keys are hidden in the whole conference,” the ringleader told us. “The year 2013 will bring a whole new world.” Relieved, I scooped up a handful of the gemstone’s vibe, as instructed, and mentally agreed to take it back into my life to help heal the planet.

I wandered around the convention floor, noting booths with the signs Life Activation, Egyptian Temple, Quantum Living, Modern Mystery School, Wicca and The Goddess. There was even one on Celestial Channeling, which excited me until I realized that, like most of the exhibits, I don’t really know what that is.

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It’s a common misconception that trends are random, popping up out of nowhere. In fact, this is seldom the case. I have been hearing the word “alchemy” more and more lately—it seems to be the buzzword of the day. But according to the website WhatDoISell.com, multiple trends often merge to form the next big trend: “If you look closely at today’s hot items, you’ll recognize evolved versions of products that were popular yesterday.” All this New Age stuff, this green energy, the popularity of soy, are being distilled into this one concept called alchemy, I am beginning to understand. And I wonder how it is being packaged for sale to the masses.

But how do you sell joy? It’s an intimidating question, but as I cruised the next section of booths I began to detect the real object of alchemy, or at least, of this conference: commerce. I witnessed a conversation between two exhibitors in which they agreed to merge their inventories of tarot cards and incense and amulets so as to expand their market; I saw a gleeful exchange between neighboring exhibitors about a big sale that had just occurred, and I was offered a Vedic astrology reading, for the hefty sum of $169. I passed.

And I still didn’t know what alchemy is. Though these objects and aromas provided some clues, I was kind of hoping for a package deal. Considering how the price of gold has gone way up, no wonder, in this economic purgatory, that there are people who are trying to turn base metals into it.

Passing by what looked like a mad chemistry professor’s display, I stopped and pretended to be studying a pamphlet of services. But I was really listening in on the conversation that was taking place about the cost-effectiveness of spagyrics, a word I’d never heard before. The table was laden with large blown-glass distillation devices that I think are also used to make beer, beakers of all sizes, hot plates, pine branches, Everclear alcohol and Corningware with some dark matter in it. I began to get the feeling that something was about to happen here. I flat-out asked the lab guy my question.

“We deal in transformation,” he began. “What we’re going for is to have our bodies be more able to withstand the stress of life, the consistency of change.”

Suddenly my question changed from “What?” to “How?”

“We’re taking herbs and metals that connect us more to the natural processes of life,” explained the lab guy, whose name is Andrew Ozinskas, and who officially calls himself an herbalist instead of an alchemist. “We think of gold as being extremely valuable and permanent. We want to become like gold.”

I drilled down deeper, wanting more, and Ozinskas the herbalist explained that, by taking gold into the body, the nerves and electrical impulses gain an insulated quality. “It coats the nervous system, and is good for depression.”

Great! I’ll take two!

Except  … how is the gold made edible? That’s where all this mysterious lab equipment comes in. Through more questions, I learned that Ozinskas is from rural Kentucky, the son and grandson of chemists, part of a family that has lived for nine generations on a dwindling plot of land that was once 5,000 acres. Back there, Ozinskas revealed, the most-common clients for his scientific knowledge are farmers who have stabbed themselves with pitchforks. Turns out, he has a tincture for that.

Ozinskas’ medicinal concoctions are made from soil and all kinds of plants he cultivates and harvests himself, and they cost about $7—half of what Whole Foods charges. Ozinskas said he is not in the phone book and does not have a website; all his customers come to him through word-of-mouth referrals, and he can barely keep his medicine in stock. Ozinskas is incredibly adept at explaining his craft.

As he chattered on, someone else asked Ozinskas a question about turning lead into gold. I recognized the guy—he was a facilitator at Amazon John’s morning seminar. Apparently, he recognized me, too; I was soon invited to the camu booth for more samples of the stuff and to review some marketing materials.

When I got there and met Amazon John, it quickly became clear that he is running a multilevel marketing organization, and that I was being solicited to be a distributor. He handed me his business card, which features a photo of him with his shirt off. Before I could react, he volunteered the information that he was, prior to being top distributor of Amazon rainforest botanicals, a Versace model. Then it came to me that the gold we are all seeking is reflected in the glow of this man’s naked chest. So I finally got it: Alchemy is a metaphor for getting ripped.