The Rising Tide
Equality, Privilege, and Prestige in Initiation
“I, Set, am come again to my friends among mankind - Let my great nobles be brought to me.”
The Book of Coming Forth By Night
Today is Easter Sunday, the day upon which Christendom celebrates the rising from the dead of Jesus Christ—King of Kings. As it happens, this year, Easter also coincides with Transgender Day of Visibility.
In the closing of the post Sic Semper Tyrannis!, I said that I would further explore the issues of egalitarianism and equality in the context of Initiation, along with some of the political ramifications raised by such an examination. Today seems like a symbolically fitting day to do so. As many seasoned students of the occult know, these turn out to be incredibly fraught issues which are growing ever more contentious as the climate of political polarization heats up throughout the world. As I explored in Chapter 18 of Inner Tarot Revolution, the general climate has resulted in an all-out magic(k)al war being waged largely on the grounds of what appear to be opposing political views; as many esotericists know, however, the real “battle lines” go far deeper than mere politics.
The Word of Hermekate plays a very specific role in this scenario. In the past—so I have confessed to a few people—I have characterized Hermekate as a “weapon” in this war, standing resolutely against certain factions promoting hateful ideologies. I have expounded in many different places the connections between Hermekate and the symbolism of chariots; from the fact that the word “Hermekate” appears historically in a spell in the Greek Magical Papyri for a chariot race to go in favor of the magician to an exploration of the connections between the Chariot card of the tarot and Merkabah mysticism (especially relevant since the name of Ilyas, my personal version of Crowley’s Aiwass, is another name for a prophet who himself “ascended,” though “descend” would be the more accurate term, into heaven in a chariot: Elijah), chariots are a definite Hermekatean theme.
And why was the chariot originally invented?
Why, to wage war.
The Invisible Hierarchy
When I was younger and much more naive than I am now, I assumed there must be a strong correlation between interest in the occult and an inclination toward left wing political stances. In part, this has a lot to do with the fact that my earliest forays into territory that was explicitly magic(k)al were in the context of modern Paganism; as I’ve written elsewhere, the first truly “occult” book I bought and read happened to be Marion Weinstein’s Earth Magic: A Dianic Book of Shadows, which I was drawn to because of the old-fashioned, leathery look of the simple cover that bore only the book’s title, the author’s name, and an elegant-looking pentagram; I loved the woodblock-like printing aesthetic of the book’s pages. I bought it at a little metaphysical gift shop called Aquarius in Davis, CA. The basic “vibe” reminded me of the film The Craft, which was popular at the box office that year. Of course, little did I know that the Dianic tradition of witchcraft is so strongly feminist in its leanings that its most widely-known sect—led by Zsuzsanna Budapest—is strictly women-only, to the extent of excluding even trans women.
In other words, the tradition was not the most suitable magic(k)al starting point for a 13 year-old boy; however, I don’t recall Earth Magick being very explicit about this. At any rate, it seems obvious that having a book like that as such a formative part of my magic(k)al path came with certain results. As I recall, another reason Goddess spirituality appealed to me was that my first magic(k) teacher—a friend one year older than me, named Matt—claimed he himself had been taught magic(k) by a “goddess” named Talisman, that he and I were members of her “raven clan,” and that the entire clan was preparing for a looming “spiritual war.”
Of course, I eventually grew out of those ideas…until I first learned of the “magic(k)al war” documented by Egil Asprem (read more about it at this link), at which point I did a serious double-take.
Of course, as the existence of said war illustrates, I was dead wrong in my projection of left-wing political values onto the landscape of occultism, even if it seemed logical enough to me: Aside from the inherent political spin of my early magic(k)al studies, I guess I just figured that anyone willing to break away from Christian tradition and into the “forbidden” realm of magic(k) must share the same values that led me to do the same. I think in our early magic(k)al work, all of us engage in this projection to some extent, whatever our own motives and values happen to be; then, later on, we learn that it’s not so simple.
This becomes a salient point when it comes to esoteric practice because one of the main “pivot points” around which the left/right political divide centers is the matter of how each political “wing” approaches the matter of inequality. Broadly speaking, the left wing seeks to reduce inequality while the right wing seeks to preserve, uphold, and maybe even deepen it. Such matters begin with simple attitudinal premises but develop into highly complex and nuanced ideologies and theories. The quagmire is deep enough in most mundane (that is, political, social, and economic) respects, but becomes all the more entangled from the esoteric viewpoint because practitioners of magic(k) and esotericism see and experience an entire “layer” of inequality that tends to remain invisible to everyone else simply because people who don’t study and/or practice esotericism don’t even recognize its existence:
Some people simply have more of a knack for magic(k) and esoteric practice than others. Just like different people have different physical and intellectual abilities, different people also have different magic(k)al abilities. It’s true. It always has been. It always will be. And deep down inside, all magicians know it.
A great deal of what goes on in the world of “occulture” revolves around what we do about that. In fact, this very difference in relative ability has a lot to say for why the occult is “occult” at all (the word “occult” means “hidden”); for much of Western history, esoteric practice was kept hidden largely to protect its practitioners from other people who might seek to harm them. In fact, while this is rapidly changing, this is still very true in many parts of the world (last year I moved to Texas, where it’s still fairly “iffy,” although I saw a guy absolutely covered in tattoos of planetary spirit sigils on an early trip to the local Wal-Mart).
As part of this, if you didn’t have a certain level of perceived receptivity and potential in this particular area, you probably weren’t invited into any groups involved in the occult. Some level of “screening” has pretty much always been a part of the standard operating procedure for most groups, and this has remained true even as the modern occult revival has unfolded and the practice of magic(k) has grown in mainstream acceptance. One reason this tendency has continued is because there’s much more to all of this than considerations of relative security, although those remain important to this day.
It’s a simple fact: Due to this very real difference in ability, there’s only so much any magic(k)al group can possibly do to help its members develop; depending on their objectives, different groups expend different amounts of time and energy on supporting the esoteric development of their members, and although there’s room for a lot of variation here, even the most supportive of groups has a certain “sink or swim” point where some amount of effort—and yes, inherent ability—is simply required for a given Initiate to make progress. No one can do the work for you, nor can anyone wave a magic wand and bestow upon you a capacity for understanding that you simply don’t have.
All of this highlights one of the reasons this becomes such a complex matter: There are actually two additional layers that these realities add to the existing landscape of world inequality: There’s an outer, or “exoteric” layer related to the practical ways in which occultists approach and address these matters; this layer is largely artificial. Then there’s an inner, invisible, or “esoteric” layer where the limits appear to be simply natural and indelible: No matter how open any given group might be or how much it might strive to help people advance on the esoteric path, the natural difference in magic(k)al aptitude plays its own role in “sorting things out.” Beyond a certain point, esoteric wisdom is inherently “occult” or “hidden” simply because not everyone can see or understand it.
To be sure, there is a lot to be said for hard work, and it’s also a truism that people who rely solely on innate talent face serious limitations wherein those who have less ability but work much harder can accomplish far more than the innately talented, who often tend to be lazy because their natural advantages lead to bad habits early in life, where their talents teach them that they can just coast. I’ll be coming back to this point.
However, despite this reality, some level of innate talent is still necessary to progress on the path of Initiation. Some people can reach great esoteric heights without ever cracking a book simply because they are more intelligent, or have sharper intuition, or a greater natural tendency toward introspection and contemplation, or a greater natural “love of wisdom” itself, or some combination of the above, or all of the above; likewise, some people could spend their entire lives with their noses in books of occult knowledge, practicing heavily every day, and just never manage to penetrate the deeper levels of Initiation.
In a mundane sense, when it comes to differences in physical ability, and even intellectual ability, there’s a lot that can be done in a practical sense to improve accessibility for people who are “challenged.” Due to its largely hidden and ineffable nature, however, much less can be done to remedy certain differences in “spiritual” or magic(k)al ability. At a certain point—all other things being equal—you’ve either got it or you don’t.
As a result, this becomes a deeply practical consideration in the environment of esoteric groups like covens or magic(k)al orders that can limit what the group is able to accomplish: They can place more emphasis on being more open, accommodating and helpful so as to support a greater number of people, but then they might get spread so thin that the group as a whole remains at a fairly low level. On the other hand, they can be more selective and exclusive, setting higher standards and expecting more from individual members at a “baseline” level, and in so doing, the group is able to accomplish much more as a result because its efforts can be more sharply focused.
I’ve seen this play out myself. I’ve been involved in some groups (I’ll hold back on naming names) that had almost zero requirements for membership other than stating a basic sympathy with the group’s core principles, and seen that they became a haven for people with pretty much no real magic(k)al talent; group gatherings tended to be nothing more than a bunch of people getting together in weird costumes, putting assorted statues and crystals on a shared altar, lighting some incense, standing in a circle and reading a ritual script from printouts. The actual ritual was different from one session to the next, and although the script was shared beforehand, most of the members didn’t bother even glancing at it, so that their first encounter with the script was during the ritual itself. As a result, the flow of the ritual was limited by the reading ability of the members present. Words were mispronounced, enunciation was clumsy and choppy in such a way that it was obvious the performance was entirely mechanical and hardly being reflected upon by the participants. And perhaps, for most of the members, that’s about all they really wanted or needed to get out of it anyway: It was about the socializing with quirky friends who were into the same things, and whatever emotional overtones came about from the ceremony. These gatherings really had quite a bit in common with Sunday church services, except with Pagan props and trappings instead of Christian ones. Certain sentiments may have been there, but compared to my solitary magic(k)al work, I felt next to nothing on a magic(k)al level. I was frankly bored silly much of the time, or even impatient to get the ceremony over with.
On another level, there was my experience with Co-Masonry: Here, there was a bit more exclusivity, and prospective members were vetted to ensure they shared the Lodge’s core values as well as a relatively focused interest in the esoteric nature of its work. Members cultivated a deep familiarity with the handful of different initiation ceremonies we performed, not only to the extent of memorizing our parts, but also to the extent of being trained and educated as to the meaning of every part of the ceremony. There was a tighter, more formal and practiced “cadence” and “pageantry” to the way these ceremonies unfolded that resulted in a much more meaningful and impactful result than the example described above. A deeper esoteric “atmosphere” was cultivated there.
And still, there was often a sense that although the ceremonies were done more skillfully, at the end of the day, many people mainly participated so they could be proud of their Masonic standing. Many were still largely parroting lines from a script, even if they did it from memory while standing tall in official garb. I felt something there, but it still rarely matched what I felt in my solitary practice.
Then there was the ritual I once witnessed as part of a larger annual gathering of the group from my first example: There were guests there who weren’t regular attendees of the group’s monthly rituals because this event catered to the larger Pagan community in Chicago. It was a group ritual in which everyone participated, but it was led by a pair of ritual partners who were both members of The Illuminates of Thanateros, a chaos magic(k) order with much higher admission standards than most groups I’ve worked with or observed. While there were participatory roles for the wider group, this pair took center stage and performed the lion’s share of the ritual work together. It was clear that they had practiced the ritual thoroughly and rigorously, with certain parts where they faced away from one another but still coordinated their movements so closely that they were effectively a mirror image of one another. There was a Ma’atian sensibility to the ritual, with an “oracle-slash-wish-making” portion involving an actual pair of old-fashioned balance scales where each participant selected a marble, charged it with a wish or intention, and the marbles were then tossed toward the scales one-by-one, and if your marble landed on one of the pans, it was said to bode well for your wish/intention.
This was one of the few relatively public rituals which thoroughly impressed me. The atmosphere was highly charged to the extent that I was nearly dizzy. This ritual took place 8 years ago, but I still keep and cherish my marble to this day. That ritual is one of my all-time favorite memories ever in life. Despite how snobby I may have sounded in describing the above examples, what this couple pulled off that afternoon was well beyond my own skill at the time; I probably could have met them at their level if I had practiced as hard as they clearly did, but my practice wasn’t very polished at the time.
I know the IOT’s strict membership criteria had a lot to do with it. People don’t become that highly-trained by accident. It also doesn’t happen if the ritual leaders don’t have considerable inherent magic(k)al skill; only a certain kind of mind could conceive of and write such a ritual. A very special and particular set of factors all came together to make that ritual so moving.
I really don’t mean to be a dick, but I bring all of this up to illustrate that there are simple, undeniable realities at play here, and they matter on a couple of different levels. One—the one I’ve highlighted above—is a matter of relative excellence and refinement of the art of magic(k). It may seem superficial, and to the extent that this aspect relies on purely aesthetic considerations, that’s debatably true; however, as experienced magic(k)al practitioners know, those aesthetic considerations matter. A smoother, more polished ritual performance simply has a distinct effect on the mind(s) of those participating in or observing it; even if you’re a philosophical materialist who doesn’t believe there’s any actual spiritual component to magic(k), the psychological difference this makes in terms of experience is palpable, and for those who have the skill and accumulated practice to make very special things happen in the ritual room, those considerations make all the difference. Simply put, not everyone who loves to dance will be able to play the lead role in Swan Lake at London’s Royal Ballet. Not everyone who loves to dance will even make it into the schools where ballet is taught at that level. That’s life; and if doing so is your dream, but you just don’t have the ability to make it happen, it’s a painful reality to accept.
Does this mean we should restrain those who can achieve that dream? Is it fair to resent them because of what they can do that we can’t? Should we not be happy for those who do achieve such dreams?
Achtung!
That’s just the art side of magic(k). There’s also a science side wherein this comes into even sharper focus. Put simply, magic(k) deals with aspects of the psyche that very few other human activities encroach upon; this is true of all magic(k), including the most basic spells, but is even more true when it comes to what is sometimes known as “High Magic(k)” or Initiation. It is often said that because of the inherently destabilizing effects of much Initiatory magic(k) upon the psyche, people with certain mental illnesses should steer clear of practicing it because things can go very wrong. It is said that, much like certain drugs, magic(k) has a way of potentiating latent mental illness. Because of this, many groups simply will not admit people who are known to have certain psychiatric diagnoses or symptoms of mental illness, and in theory, such policies are meant to protect the vulnerable.
In theory.
In practice, it often has just as much to do with the considerations described above: Sometimes groups simply don’t want to be burdened with the extra support work and additional considerations necessary to accommodate the vulnerable. It’s true.
However, giving such policies the benefit of the doubt, the reasoning reminds me a lot of the plight of the character of Dwayne Hoover in the film Little Miss Sunshine (SPOILER ALERT), whose sole dream in life was to become a jet pilot in the Air Force; alas, as we learn partway through the film, Dwayne is found to be colorblind and as such, is disqualified from joining the Air Force. This devastates him, but it’s ultimately for safety reasons; not only his own safety, either, but public safety, too. It’s dangerous to operate such powerful jets if you don’t have the visual acuity necessary to clearly see where you’re going. The forces at work are disorienting enough on the pilot’s proprioception even with perfect vision, and the risk of a mishap resulting from disorientation in midair is too great. It’s not just about the risk of a bad accident in an aircraft, but in military applications, jets are also armed with explosives. It’s just a real bad accident waiting to happen.
This crushes Dwayne—but what the fuck can ya do? It is what it is.
When it comes to esoteric practice, I have some complicated and conflicting opinions about this.
In August of 2019, at a popular occult blog called Thelemic Union, Frater Entelecheia published an article entitled Occultism and Mental Illness: Returning Magic To Its Healing Roots, where he lays out his case against the practice of magic(k) by those prone to mental illness. I think it’s quite possible that his heart was in the right place, and he did make some relevant points with regard to the intention of healing that characterizes much (though not all) magic(k). However, there’s a certain tone to it that I don’t much care for; granted, as a person who has struggled with mental illness my entire life, I can’t deny that it’s something I’m particularly sensitive about and it could be because on some level, I know he’s not exactly wrong.
However, as a rebuttal, I wrote Occultist, Heal Thyself, which was published on a witchy blog called The Way of Witch one month later to the day. In it, I argued that while Frater Entelecheia may have had sincere intentions in writing his article, his posing of the risks of mental illness sounded like they came from the outside as someone who hasn’t experienced those particular struggles to the same degree as the people he was addressing in the post. As I wrote:
I could be wrong, but often when I read such things, there are various observations and comments that indicate the author is admonishing the mentally ill from the outside, as a “they/them” or “other,” as opposed to a “me/we.” There are certain things I just can’t imagine that an occultist who has personal experience dealing with their own mental illness would ever say.
It’s a general tone to which I’ve grown accustomed over the years, having worked with all sorts of therapists and psychiatrists: Some of them speak with compassion and empathy, and others—who clearly don’t struggle with mental illness themselves—speak in a more condescending, pejorative tone. In particular, the tone of Entelecheia’s article reminded me of a psychiatrist I had just recently worked with, who was very quick to issue diagnoses and prescribe medications in ways that I found rather flippant, reckless, and heartless. In my own case, after meeting with me for about 10 minutes while I was detoxing from alcohol and pumped full of Haldol, he issued a diagnosis of bipolar II and prescribed Lamictal, a pretty serious medication; when I confronted him about it later, he claimed that the main reason he made the decision he did was because “you mentioned some instability and impulsivity.” Despite the fact that impulsivity and mood instability are also core symptoms of Borderline Personality Disorder—a diagnosis I’d previously been given and with which I very much agree—he ignored my objections and maintained his stance. Problematically, Lamictal is a very difficult medication to stop taking once it gets into your system, but he didn’t really care about that part. His refusal to dignify my perspectives and lived experience was palpable and downright presumptuous. Some time later, when he spoke at family day for the unit where I had been staying as a patient, he basically admitted that he does what he does for a living because his of the impact that his brother’s mental illness had on him. It was patently clear to me that he had some kind of personal hangup of his own that he had been projecting onto his patients (I wasn’t the only one over-medicated; everyone on the unit felt he was very “trigger happy” with the meds).
Frankly, he could have benefited from therapy of his own, even without a diagnosable mental illness—instead of making life more difficult for people who do have mental illnesses.
Unfortunately, this kind of thing is all too common in psychiatry: Even the so-called “professionals” who should theoretically know their business better than anyone else routinely disregard patient testimony, self-reporting, and lived experience, on an arrogant presumption that our mental illness renders us less capable of making independent decisions about our own treatment (despite the fact that we live with it every day of our lives and if you don’t, then it’s simply impossible for you to fully understand the perspective of someone who does).
I still maintain that a similar set of “blinders” was at play with Frater Entelecheia; he may be a “professional” in the field of magic(k), but there’s a lot that he was missing, and a lot of assumptions from which he was operating that may be personally relevant to him, but don’t necessarily reflect the lived experience, values, and objectives of all magic(k)al practitioners.
I have to be fair here, because just a couple of years after this all went down, I found myself at a state-run psychiatric facility in a condition of sheer madness that I covered in the post The Temple of Madness: A Chapel Perilous Journey; however, I got through it and overcame my struggles…and far more than “humbling” me and inculcating greater respect for Frater Entelecheia’s point, my brush with madness actually served to galvanize me in my stance that he can pretty much go fuck himself (yup, I said it).
Some of Frater Entelecheia’s assumptions and biases are cultural, as he himself admitted in stating that he was speaking for magic(k) as practiced in the Western world; however, in many cultures, going through precisely the kind of psychological struggles he was addressing is part of the selection criteria for healers (see The Shamanic View of ‘Mental Illness’: Birth of a Healer at the blog Mad In America). In other words, from points of view other than his, some would say that the very best healers are those who have been through hell themselves. Who better to help someone through a spiritual or psychological crisis than a person who has overcome one?
The attitudes of people with no personal experience of the things of which they speak may hold some objectivity worth noting, but this doesn’t mean the subjective should be dismissed. My attitudes regarding all of this are much in sympathy with some of the work of Craig Slee, a magician who has done quite a bit to challenge similar assumptions in occultism surrounding physical disability. His interview alongside Frater Acher at Glitch Bottle is well worth a listen:
Esoteric Elitism and the Aeon of Set
So where am I actually going with all of this?
In recent posts—including, but certainly not limited to Sic Semper Tyrannis!—I’ve gone fairly far out of my way to decry the elitist policies of certain groups, especially The Temple of Set, going as far as to say that the Word of Hermekate was literally called into Being in order to address some of the resulting imbalances. This is where I actually do practice some humility and offer some candid admissions—though they will be tempered by a firm resolution in the stance I’ve maintained thus far.
After all I’ve explored above, I hope I’ve made it clear that there’s a great deal of nuance when it comes to matters of elitism in Initiation; as many have said—and I actually agree—there is, in fact, something inherently elitist about Initiation. It has long been maintained that it’s a path for the relative few, and by now I’ve likely made it clear that I am under no illusions as to the reality of this fact. For starters, it’s a path that isn’t even appealing to most people: Simply put, mere desire to walk the path is the first point at which the proverbial “wheat” is separated from the “chaff.” Sincerity on this point is probably one of the most important qualifications: Point blank, Initiation can never be coerced and must instead be chosen. The vast majority of people have no interest whatsoever in pursuing it. It’s hard work of a kind that most people aren’t inclined to attempt. In this regard, Initiation is an elitism that is largely self-selecting. However, as we’ve seen, this is only one part of the picture. Even among those who do wish to walk the path—as with any other art and/or science—some people are bound from the start to make it much farther down the path than others.
It’s a simple reality: The Temple of Set restricts its membership to the so-called “Elect.” At this point, I can lower my guard a bit and be transparent about the fact that the reality of “the Elect” isn’t exactly something I challenge. As I’ve illustrated by now, I can fully appreciate the Temple’s reasons for operating the way it does. I’ve described…”less serious” groups with looser (or even basically nonexistent) standards and, to keep it real, I’ve been frustrated with them myself. As far as esoteric groups go, even the very best of what’s out there leaves a lot to be desired when membership standards are not high enough. It’s true, and I’ve lived it.
In fact, far from completely disagreeing with Michael Aquino and the Temple on that point…it’s exactly why I once had my heart set on joining. I could tell from the first couple of books I read—including Mysteries of the Temple of Set (Inner Teachings of the Left Hand Path) by Don Webb and Lords of the Left-Hand Path: Forbidden Practices and Spiritual Heresies by Dr. Stephen Flowers—that the level of Initiatory sophistication cultivated and maintained within the Temple is simply of an unmatched quality. I had roamed from group to group for half of my life when I found them. I’d been a National Speaker for The Theosophical Society, toured various esoteric groups in the Chicago area, had studied the Golden Dawn and B.O.T.A., and yet I always had a tendency to think even bigger and more deeply than any such group, in my experience, had ever dared. What initially piqued my interest in Webb and Flowers’ writings was the fact that their books were the first place I had seen some of my own intellectual leaps in writing anywhere else outside my own head. It’s fascinating to me that the Temple models progress through the grades in their school on the concept of “Recognition,” because that’s the perfect word for what I felt when I read their teachings: Recognition. I was truly thrilled at the prospect of being challenged and stimulated for once in an esoteric group.
When my application was put on hiatus the first two times—and as I experienced firsthand the insular cliquishness of the Temple’s members, the general reluctance to be forthcoming and welcoming to outsiders—it hurt. I felt a lot like Dwayne Hoover felt in Little Miss Sunshine: Devastated that I was being pushed out the way I was. If I couldn’t get in there, I knew I would have trouble finding anywhere else to feel similarly nourished.
At the same time that I recognize the sheer brilliance in the writings of Webb and Flowers, there are just as many articles in The Temple of Set Vols. I and II that I know I can top. I can tell by reading several of them that I’d be able to give the person who wrote them a pointer or two, and I now know as well as I’m sitting here that oftentimes, when I feel ignored in online discussion forums, it’s not because I’m not sharp enough—but perhaps sometimes it’s because I’m sharper than they expect many non-Temple Initiates to be. I know for a fact that my admission was pushed back in haste and in error. I’ve been flat-out told by some members that I got a shitty deal. I know I’m capable of making the cut and yes, I think it’s bullshit that I didn’t.
Recently, I’ve had to take a long look in the mirror and sincerely ask myself the question: Would I have a different view of the Temple and its policies if they had let me in? Would I be singing a different tune?
And I can’t deny that I probably would. I’d probably be behaving just like them—because I know how it feels to struggle against the limitations of groups that don’t maintain high standards, even if it sounds snooty. I know how it feels to be understimulated, and to open my mouth in a group discussion and blurt out something that makes people feel insecure about themselves. In a way, some of the very attitudes I have recently criticized in Michael Aquino are ones I understand all too well: It sucks to feel like you’re not good enough for the people around you, but it also sucks to hide your intelligence in group settings because it makes the people around you jealous and/or mistrustful, and when you’ve spent your life as a loner because of it, it’s a joy to find people with whom you can cut loose and be yourself. I was bullied from my youngest years by other people who felt threatened by my intelligence. It’s true. In that regard, damn it, I really can’t blame Michael Aquino at all for fostering the environment that he did, and yes, I am very upset that it was so difficult for me to fight my way into it that I gave up after 5 long years.
I’m tired of pretending that I don’t know who the hell I am. I’m tired of selling myself short.
That being said: While it’s certainly a mixed bag, I’ve also learned to appreciate that there are some bright sides to the way things have turned out for me, and the growing pains that have come with it have been good, character-building experiences for me. I am happy for the attitudes my experience of repeated rejection has forced me to cultivate; and this is where I admit that while it wouldn’t have happened if I’d gotten what I wanted, I’m glad it did anyhow, because I can also honestly say that from where I sit today, I don’t like the person I would probably have become if they’d let me join.
I’ve found purpose in the outcome and in the perspective I’ve developed as a result.
And this is where I can honestly say: All of those caveats aside, I still basically land on calling “bullshit” on it all.
I now return to the left-right political divide I introduced near the beginning of this post, and the contrasting attitudes of each side with regard to inequality.
As I’ve established—and as is apparent to pretty much everyone—idealism aside, all people are not really created equal. It’s clear that inequality is a reality. Likewise, it’s clear that some people view that reality as chiseled into stone, a simple fact of nature that shouldn’t be resisted, while others view it as something to be remedied. What is clearer to some people than to others (although this divide does not necessarily follow the same lines as the overall left-right divide itself) is that very often, one’s inclination to either resist or reinforce inequality has a great deal to do with self-interest: That is, those who benefit from inequality (or at the very least, those who hope to one day benefit from it) generally want to reinforce it, while those who are hurt by inequality want to reduce or eliminate it. This just makes good sense, really.
I think it’s also a reality that’s so deeply-ingrained that people who resist inequality often forget how self-interest influences their perspective, and probably deny that they would likely feel differently if they held a more privileged position. This isn’t always true and there are privileged people who work against inequality just as there are underprivileged people who champion natural hierarchy—but as a general rule, people on one side of this divide often have great difficulty truly putting themselves in the shoes of people on the opposite side. People generally take their own experiences for granted and project them onto our adversaries, and this is why there tends to be so much vitriol on both sides for members of the opposing camp.
This is relevant to the above discussion for one very important reason: Temple of Set is a Left Hand Path school, and this has consequences. However, it also opens up yet another can of writhing, tangled worms.
What does “Left Hand Path” actually mean? This is a complicated enough subject that it took Dr. Stephen Flowers years to write a comprehensive book about it, but the very short and grossly oversimplified answer is that the Left Hand Path is a spiritual path that prioritizes and centers the Self as its main focus—as opposed to paths that center some deity, or the collective good.
In the case of Temple of Set, this gets a little complicated because, as a theistic school, it actually does somewhat center a deity, but that’s because it’s essentially the deity of Selfhood, which comes with its own entire set of paradoxes that, quite frankly, cannot be solved by reason alone. In fact, this is one the areas where I personally hold that Michael Aquino came up short: As an extremely rational person, he tried to subject the basic notion of the Prince of Darkness’ existence (not to mention the prerogatives of a Left Hand Path school) to a level of rigorous logic that is admirable, but simply bound to lead to contradictions if sufficient room is not left for a more intuitive, heart-centered, shall we say, “supra-rational” approach. In short, he analyzed Set half to death, much to the detriment of anyone relying solely upon him for guidance. Because he was literally the founder of his school, this problem persists, since schools rarely deviate too far from the ideals of their founders. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Basically, if the Temple managed to grow past this limitation, it was because some of Aquino’s students and successors (such as, I reckon, Don Webb) had the courage to disagree with some of his views and conclusions; while I’ve been fairly hard on the Temple lately (owing largely, I admit, to my personal biases and residual hurt feelings, as well as my limited knowledge as an outsider), they’re actually pretty good about this need to challenge dogmas.
But there is a “however.”
So far, we have a definition of Left Hand Path that basically boils down to “Self = center.” However, there are follow-up questions to ask, such as:
Which part of the Self is placed at the center?
Once that’s established:
In what sense is the Self placed at the center?
To what end is the Self placed at the center?
To what extent?
This last question is especially pertinent because the entire school is founded upon The Book of Coming Forth By Night, which centers the prerogatives of Set/The Prince of Darkness, meaning these have to be balanced against the prerogatives of any individual member of the school. This is no easy feat. I’m pretty sure it’s also a moving target. It’s easy for someone like me to sit back and criticize the Temple, its founder, and its members, but the difficulty of the balancing act being attempted has to be acknowledged, and the best efforts of anyone to pull it off should be saluted; despite considerable turmoil, they are still here after all these years. That took tremendous skill and effort.
Anyway, different people offer very different answers to these questions, and furthermore, the same person will likely offer very different answers to these questions at different points in their development; and once more, I have to stress that I never met Michael Aquino personally, although a number of my friends have—and since I’ve never been a member of the Temple, much of what I say is conjecture. My best sources are the same written works to which every other member of the public has access, along with a bit of hearsay combined with my own personal experience.
But, of course, I do have quite a few of Michael Aquino’s very own written words—including The Book of Coming Forth By Night itself. That right there is a sticky wicket.
Did he write that text, or did Set?
Depending on your beliefs, there are two possible answers:
Michael Aquino wrote it himself.
Michael Aquino wrote it with Set’s help.
I would maintain that there are no circumstances under which it can be held that the text was written solely by Set. That’s just not the way this stuff works. Liber AL vel Legis, Liber Pennae Praenumbra, and The Book of Coming Forth By Night are each indelibly imprinted with the personal shades of their authors and this is one of the main reasons each one is so different.
From a purely materialist perspective, the book came completely from the psyche of Michael Aquino, though even this perspective is a bit nuanced: The process of “inspired” writing involves entering a state of mind very different from one’s normal state of waking consciousness, so there’s a strong likelihood even in this most stringent, materialistic point of view that whatever was not a product of his conscious deliberation was produced by his subconscious mind.
If you hold a theistic viewpoint, you will of course make room for some of the Book’s contents to have come straight from the influence of Set, but even in the best case, this involves the same shift in consciousness described above, meaning it would be at best a product of Set in conjunction with the conscious and unconscious aspects of Michael Aquino’s psyche.
Again, since I didn’t know Aquino, I can’t say this for certain, but this is my opinion: Some parts of the text seem very obviously influenced by Michael Aquino’s personal opinions and biases—including much of the material concerning Aleister Crowley, Anton LaVey, and their respective work, matters which surely held a great deal of emotional charge for Aquino at a time such as the one in which he felt pressed to resort to staging a schism from the Church of Satan. If this is true, I think it shows that, just as I have done here in my own writings, much of this reflects Aquino working out his own internal conflicts and feelings about both men—I think he was getting a lot of personal shit off of his chest here. I think we overlook this to our own detriment.
However, there are other parts that, based on what little I know and have observed of Aquino, seem more like the influence of Set—and among the passages that I think were more reflective of Set’s influence than Aquino’s are the ones concerning the Temple’s mission, upon which the so-called Setamorphosis letter was based:
I seek my Elect and none other, for mankind now hastens toward an annihilation which none but the Elect may hope to avoid. And alone I cannot preserve my Elect, but I would teach them and strengthen their Will against the comping peril, that they and their blood may endure. To do this I must give further of my own Essence to my Elect, and, should they fail, the Majesty of Set shall fade and be ended.
The Temple of Set Vol. II
p. 37
Why do I think this?
A few reasons.
For one, although he clearly had his philosophical disagreements with his mentor, Anton LaVey, Aquino was a high-ranking member of the Church of Satan, and based on many of his own attitudes and written statements, it seems pretty clear that he upheld many of the same interpretations of Left Hand Path prerogatives that were prevalent in the Church of Satan, and sharp elitism was very much a part of the Church’s ethos. This included the principle of “Might Is Right” which LaVey cribbed from Ragnar Redbeard: In this connection, putting oneself at the center of one’s path meant placing oneself above pretty much anyone else who could be subdued by the Self and put to good use. It very strongly emphasized a mode of worldly self-empowerment that came at the expense of other people and, to bring back the political left-right dichotomy that has been a theme of this post, strongly depends on the reinforcement of hierarchical “power over others” that is a guiding principle of right-wing thought.
One example of this that particularly stands out to me is highlighted in the several chapters of The Temple of Set Vol. II dealing with astrology and the ideas of Robert Zoller, an astrologer who joined the Temple in its earlier years. Upon Zoller’s application, Aquino admits that he and his buddies were quite amused by Zoller’s interest in astrology and very much looked forward to hazing Zoller about it. When Zoller put up a substantial and fairly reasonable fight to the challenge Aquino et al issued by sending a certain rationalist critique of astrology his way, Aquino confessed himself that he was made to eat crow to a certain extent; yet he made it an insistent point to ultimately defeat Zoller’s position on logical grounds in ways that struck me as somewhat mirthfully sadistic and self-righteous in spirit; as part of his comments regarding Zoller’s work, Aquino stated that astrology had two fruitful purposes and two alone: Either to financially fleece or scam potential “marks” or victims, or to control them by means of Lesser Black Magick (in other words, sophisticated techniques of pre-conscious mental manipulation). That was it: Either con people or use them. It seemed completely outside the realm of his comprehension (at least, until Zoller pointed it out to him) that astrology might also be used more convivially as, say, a symbolic framework for connecting with and understanding other people meaningfully, or even a language for coming to understand oneself (which would seem to me to be a very obvious Left Hand Path application if ever there was one, but that apparently went right over this otherwise brilliant man’s head). All he could see in it was a tool to exploit others—he said it himself.
I think this attitude ultimately said much more about Michael Aquino and his character than it ever did about astrology itself. And I think he was so self-confident in his rationalism that this was a blind spot for him.
Maybe someone who knew him would disagree with me, who knows? This is just me reading his work here.
However, such apparent attitudes regarding the Left Hand Path as being centered around the accumulation and consolidation of one’s worldly power over other people seem to contrast pretty sharply with the notion, expressed in The Book of Coming Forth By Night, that the Temple of Set might have a purpose that seems to be frankly humanitarian in nature; and as I wrote in my post Hermekate and Setamorphosis, I came away from my initial reading of “the Setamorphosis letter” that Aquino wrote to the Temple’s Priesthood with the sense that this particular passage of the text preoccupied him and even threw him for a bit of a loop. I think that this was because of how incongruous certain interpretations of that passage could be from the perspective of someone who so strongly held self-interest as a core value. I think he wasn’t quite sure what to do with the idea, and that he may even have felt overwhelmed by the magnitude of its implications (I’ve been there), and I think that in the end, he and his Priesthood brushed aside the passage’s potential wider implications in favor of an interpretation that preserved their pre-existing image of their little clique as a specially-privileged class that they held to be essentially more important than most living human beings (various articles in Temple of Set Vol. II make this abundantly clear). The Temple’s definition of the term “Elect” was then developed from this understanding, and the decision was made to put this special class of (self-proclaimed) superhuman individuals at the forefront of the Temple’s concerns to such a degree that only people who seemed able to substantively increase the group’s own prestige were welcome.
As I’ve confessed, I’m more critical of that stance than I would have been if they had admitted me, and it’s put a chip on my shoulder. In addition to this, there are considerations such as the safety of Temple members that come to the fore: Setamorphosis is a potentially dangerous process, as is the practice of Greater Black Magic(k). There are certainly cases where people are refused admission on this basis, which is held to be for their own good—and to be fair, I am also pretty sure that this could well have been the main reason my own application was pushed back (that is an important distinction: I was never issued a flat-out rejection, I was just told to wait for what tallied up to a total of about 5 years by the time I pulled my application myself).
However, on that front, I default to the stances regarding arrogant and presumptuous attitudes about mental illness and magic(k) that I spent so much time examining above: I can’t necessarily blame the Temple for maintaining whatever policies it does surrounding mental illness and unstable life circumstances to protect not only itself, but also its members and perhaps other people from what could potentially develop into pretty harmful situations. My own “difficult journey” really only proves the point.
But it also proves the point that perhaps individuals might be afforded more leeway to be the judges of their own capabilities and levels of risk. Maybe no outside observer can ever really appreciate a person’s inner state of being, and maybe people might be more capable and resilient than “the professionals” are wont to give them credit for.
At any rate, there’s ultimately very little to be gained by dwelling on all of this: From a Left Hand Path perspective, it’s exceedingly disempowering to focus so much on what any other group of people “could have” or “should have” done, or what I say I might have done differently if it were up to me. In the end, it’s more empowering and healthy to hold an attitude like the one I alluded to above, and be happy for those people who were able to live out their dream of joining the school and learning the “ballet” of Setian Black Magic among colleagues; right or wrong, what happened happened.
The truth is, I have no real basis for saying things “went wrong” in the Temple some 50 years ago (other than what my heart tells me, which is ultimately inseparable from the personal struggles I’ve faced, every bit as much as The Book of Coming Forth By Night reflects Michael Aquino’s personal struggles). It’s true that Aquino griped about Crowley and LaVey’s perceived shortcomings, but then he pulled himself together, put his best face forward, and did what he had to do.
And in terms of moving forward, that’s the best possible thing I can do. Rather than bemoan how things might have been, I can instead claim my own power to do things differently myself.
Lastly, one other thing bears mentioning: While the decision to emphasize selectivity over accommodation in vetting applicants had an undesirable outcome for me in the sense that it thwarted my efforts to join the Temple, the fact remains that whatever results came from the Temple’s internal work were ultimately a result of that decision, and this means that the inspiration and enrichment I’ve taken from the writings that the Temple has shared were also a result of that decision. Had the Temple taken a more open approach—I’ve seen the pattern at work in the world myself—it’s possible that none of that great work would have been possible. The pain of exclusion aside, I have benefited immensely from the Temple’s commitment to excellence, even if it meant rejecting the likes of me.
Everything I go on to do from here will in turn be a result of that set of circumstances, and for this reason, I owe the Temple a debt of gratitude that my recent criticisms and speculations ultimately besmirch. In the big picture, that’s counterproductive—especially considering all that is at stake at this stage.
Esoteric Egalitarianism and The Aeon of Ma’at
With that, it’s simply better that I put such criticisms to rest and stay focused on the path in front of me, and in front of us all. I bring the discussion back one last time to the left-right political divide and its consequences for the world in terms of the esoteric landscape:
I’ve established clearly that hierarchy and inequality are more than a construct established by the powerful, even if it’s one that is emphatically reinforced by many of those who hold power: It actually exists. However, the perspective on these things in an esoteric context is a bit of a conundrum for one simple reason:
There are pretty firm and stark limits to what even those most dedicated to the pursuit of social justice and equality can do to manifest those things in the realm of the occult, and this stems in large part from the fact that “occulture” occupies the fringes of society. Again, there are both truly “esoteric” and more naturalistic reasons for this, as well as more “exoteric” and artificial ones: Magic(k) deals with realities that overlap with the political, economic, and social realities, but they also stand completely apart from them. Point blank: While there are many people who use the occult as an instrument of political and social influence, there is simply no way to “govern” magic(k) politically. It can be (and often has been) outlawed, condemned, hunted down, and rooted out; but in the end, the deepest and truest magic(k) comes from within, and even if you were to throw me in prison, I could practice magic(k) from whatever cell you put me in. It’s what happens in the mind that counts the most.
The world of magic(k) is inherently a wild frontier, and short of some kind of absolute mind control technology, it always will be.
By the same token, no matter how hard those with “bleeding hearts” might try to level things out, the world of magic(k) will also always be, to some degree, a meritocracy. More than any other field of human endeavor, the tendency for hierarchy to persist in human affairs is possibly most tenacious of all in the spiritual and magic(k)al world. People with a more secular sensibility really may not like this, but it’s a harsh and simple reality that anyone who hopes to advance in the field must come to accept. “It’s all in the game.”
Because of this, even many people who otherwise lean left politically and in the secular world simply throw up their hands when it comes to magic(k) and concede: You can only do so much, and basically, it is what it is. If you get too focused on making things conform to some hoped-for sense of fairness, you’re shit out of luck when it comes to magic(k); if that’s your first priority, you’ll only develop so much as an individual. Other people have to choose to put the work in and weather their own “make-it-or-break-it” moments. You can lend them aid, but somewhere along the line, this balance must be reckoned with and basically respected.
But there’s a “however:”
Because of this inherent meritocratic tendency in magic(k), the field holds a certain appeal to a lot of people who are very interested in using it as an excuse and a free pass to express their inherently oppressive, domination-based ideologies and attitudes. This means there are plenty of people out there who very deliberately make it their business to gate-keep the occult and actively shun those perceived as weak. There are those who harbor hateful views, and use the harsher realities of magic(k) as another means of keeping other people down and reinforcing their hegemony. There are those who insist that it’s a mistake to make things any easier for anyone, with the idea that this will somehow diminish or water down “the community.” This is drawn from distorted understandings of “Social Darwinism” that provincially (and foolishly) maintain that the weak need to be actively culled and the herd intentionally thinned, lest everyone somehow get dragged down.
The essential perspective of the Word of Hermekate, partaking as it does of the Aeon of Ma’at, holds that this kind of thing is totally bogus. It holds a much more balanced view—one which doesn’t deny the unavoidable aspects of magic(k)al inequality, but which never seeks to artificially make these differences any more pronounced than they already are.
In other words, it holds that there’s already enough inequality “baked into” the domain of the esoteric that going out of our way to “defend” it from “the unworthy” is, in the grand scheme of things, a misguided approach.
The Mysteries need not be protected, because they protect themselves. Far be it from me to tell someone else what to do and what not to do; it’s not my place to put up additional barriers. As I know all too well from personal experience, you either pierce the Veil of Paroketh or you don’t; you either swim across the Abyss, or you sink trying. I might advise you against it if I think you’re taking a big risk, but I will also emphatically wish you well if you decide to go for it anyway. What I won’t do is put myself at risk if you yourself happen to be drowning; but if I can lend a hand and help us both, well…that’s what I’m here for.
Some—especially many on the Left Hand Path—believe that there’s some kind of net benefit to be gained from keeping other people at a disadvantage; if you allow others to gain more power, there’s less to go around for you. If your goal is power-over-others, perhaps this approach makes a certain kind of sense.
But at the end of the day, when I look into my own heart, that’s not what Hermekate is about. Hermekate, in its aspect of multiplicity and consisting as it does of the pattern of more than one divine figure—is a principle rooted in the idea of power with. It holds that a rising tide can and will lift all boats. It doesn’t presume life will ever be completely fair, but it doesn’t conclude that this is any reason to excuse the kind of selfishness that causes needless harm.
It also holds that such a broad-minded attitude is precisely what it will take at this point in history to get all of humanity through the challenges we face: Because if we don’t solve our problems together, there won’t be any of us left to enjoy the sovereignty of self-discovery and growth, magic(k)al or otherwise.
Hermekate puts its money where its mouth is…through the principle of the Song, which rings out as a sonic and erotic weapon that insists on standing firm—in solidarity—against those who champion oppression for its own sake. The paradigm of the Song harmonically balances the principles of individualism and collectivism in a dynamic way that serves to subvert the tendency of hierarchy to crystallize against the horizontal distribution of power—without sacrificing its integrity to the forces of randomness. It naturally and inherently distributes and disseminates understanding via the emerging substrate of non-local collective consciousness which, despite the objections of the doubtful and fearful, need not come at the expense of individual sovereignty, but instead reinforces it. To the overly intellectual and analytical mindset, this may sound foolish, but Hermekate’s laughter will continue ringing long after the sophist exhausts their limited arsenal of “ifs” and “buts.” Such is the power of cosmic melody. It upholds the best of both worlds, and opens up a landscape of promise that reverberates with the strength of the many.
Hermekate is not looking for a fight, but understands there are those who will raise one on principle, and isn’t about to back down from one, either.
Hermekate is ready for them.
More to come on this in the near future. Future posts will separately build upon individual, focused aspects of the Word of Hermekate as summarized in the three-part series Basic Elements of Hermekate (Parts I, II, and III).
Happy Holiday!