The denser the organism, the denser its food. We require doses of minerals to the degree that we have dense, physical bodies. The finer and more ethereal an organism is, the less it needs of these elements. For example: Copper in high concentration kills microbial life. Hospitals that use bronze doorknobs have a much lower contamination rate than those with other types of doorknobs. The reason is that in high concentrations, copper kills.
But it is not that the Copper itself is poisonous! Copper is precious. Everything needs Copper — but in the correct dose. As the organism grows smaller, it needs exponentially less of the same element.
“Alle Dinge sind Gift und nichts ist ohne Gift; allein die Dosis macht, dass ein Ding kein Gift ist.”
A translation of the statement above is: “All things are poison and nothing is without poison; only the dose makes a thing not a poison.”
If you give too much Copper to a soil, you kill fungi — a purpose for which it is regularly employed. If you use too much of any element, you kill. On the other hand, if you use little enough the very thing that operated as a lethal poison operates as a medicine. Fungi need copper and a small enough dose of a poison stimulates life.
The Three Kings Preparation, developed by Hugo Erbe, is only meant to be used after all of the other biodynamic preparations have been made and applied on your farm. This sets the right processes in motion: beneficial decomposition, beneficial composition. What comprises the Three Kings Preparation is: colloidal Gold, Frankincense, and Myrrh.
The ceremonial significance of these elements should be familiar to many as the gifts brought by the Magi to the Christ child. These are burial gifts. Frankincense and Myrrh are used to embalm — to prevent microbes from breaking down the body. They are used in high enough concentration that they prevent life. Another example of this principle is honey: sugar is the fundamental food for microbes, but in super-concentration, it is poison to microbial life.
Frankincense and Myrrh are ground together with colloidal Gold, rain water and vegetable glycerin. The high concentration of embalming spices to water does not permit life. The Three Kings Preparation will last indefinitely, until diluted; once diluted, it needs to be used. In the same way, honey lasts indefinitely — until diluted. As soon any significant amount of water is added, honey starts to ferment. If memory serves, archeologists discovered (and sampled) honey from a tomb in Egypt: it was still sweet after millenia!
Frankincense and Myrrh are poison. They are resins, like amber, designed to preserve and prevent decay in plants. Humans have turned this plant property to their own ends. The Three Kings Preparation takes a poison and dilutes it into a medicine. As Paracelsus said: “All things are poison and nothing is without poison; only the dose makes a thing not a poison.”
In tiny, virtually homeopathic doses, poisons are medicines; substances meant to preserve against life processes now serve to stimulate life! We apply the Three Kings Preparation in the evening, when the ground is cooling down and approaching the “dew point.”
Unlike all of the other preparations, the Three Kings Preparation is spread out of the farm along the border of the property, onto the adjacent properties. This gesture is both a beckoning to “Elemental Beings” and a stimulant to microbial life. The application on the border of the land serves to mark that as the skin of the farm organism. Everything living has a skin: an inside and an outside.
Human beings think in human terms. As Owen Barfield pointed out, even the most technical and abstract term is a cleverly disguised anthropomorphism. It is no mark against us to think in human terms — it is only a mark when we fail to think in fully human terms. How we think of the world is inseparable for how we think of ourselves. If we have an inhuman and abstract way of dealing with the world, it is an equally abstract and inhuman way of dealing with ourselves. At our worst and most dishonest, we denature our environment; at our best and most honest, we humanize it.
The question isn’t whether we think anthropomorphically but rather whether we do so authentically and without deceit. We are most humane when we think most poetically.
From the densest poisons, to the finest medicines, we offer a “literal” physical stimulant around the border of the farm; and we offer a “metaphorical” spiritual feeding for the elemental world.