This corner of the Witches’ Pyramid¹ is not only what it appears to be on the surface. It is not solely “book learning.” It is also knowing that you possess the skills to put what you have learned into a practical application, using the knowledge you have garnered to put your magic into practice, knowing the means to cast spells, and doing inner alchemy.

For example, there is the classic Greek admonition “gnothi seauton,” or know thyself. Carved at the entrance to the temple in Delphi, the Greeks inculcated this belief in their society, believing that each individual must know himself before he could dream of approaching the oracle. Otherwise, what he might learn on the journey of oracular discovery could well be catastrophic to the psyche.

This admonition is not a new one in the context of magical study. Many authors and classic magicians have said this through the ages, most notably in recent times Aleister Crowley. Heck, alchemy was all about self-discovery, and there have been many transcendental movements through the ages focused on discovering the self.

This journey of self-discovery remains at the core of similar movements to this day. The most natural thing in the world is to look for answers to questions like “who am I?” When one group, such as religion, doesn’t satisfactorily answer those questions, it is normal to look for groups who do. If that quest takes people into esoteric fields of study, then so be it.

Magic and religion are only two of many different ways to start this journey of self-discovery. Unfortunately, most of the other methods that society accepts are expensive or time-consuming, like psychologists or self-help books. I can think of only one other freely available method of self-exploration: the BDSM community. But that pathway demands its own price. It is also very far outside the norms of society, making it anathema to many.

This is how it should be. For any esoteric discipline, such as divination, a magician must start with knowledge of self. With that foundation, a magician can separate himself from the process he is calling into being. He then has the ability to see where his prejudices and his insecurities have influenced the process he hopes to create. Put simply, because of having this anchor point, he can be more efficient in his magical pursuits.

A starting place is important in this or any journey. Just like trying to navigate in space, you can find a destination easily enough, but you must have a beginning point.

In many classical references, we find that that this discovery is mandated. In Aeschylus I: Oresteia: Agamemnon, The Libation Bearers, The Eumenides (The Complete Greek Tragedies) (Vol 1), Zeus lays down the law: mankind must suffer to be wise.² This theme repeats itself in the Gardnerian Wicca initiation and in many other groups’ initiations. Any practicing magician must understand that those who are unwilling to sacrifice will not have the knowledge they seek available to them.

There is a direct correlation between how much the student will learn and how much of his own pleasures he is willing to sacrifice to attain that knowledge. Those unwilling to pay the price demanded will not achieve the knowledge they seek. This means that the student must be totally aware of how much he is willing to give up and what he is willing to do without to attain his goal.

Then we come to another often-overlooked aspect of “To Know” — the consequences. Let us assume that the magician actually knows who he is, where he fits and so on. He also knows what kinds of prices he will be paying and has made the decision that those prices are reasonable to attain what he wants. He also knows the techniques involved in actually casting the spells and the theory behind that process. This same magician also has to be aware of what kinds of outcomes are most likely, as well as the potential unintended consequences.

Many think of magicians as amoral creatures, but this is simply not true. A magician has to be more aware and willing to take care of the unintended consequences of his actions, if only because of the “butterfly effect.” A corporation comes in and clear-cuts a forest. This tragedy will have global repercussions. It will have future consequences as well. But I know of no corporation that can affect the past by their actions. Magicians can affect the past and do, at times.

It is up to the magician in question to be self-policing and to deal with the messes he creates. It is only enlightened self-interest. If the magician wishes privacy to do his work, then he must be invisible. If he casts too wide a spell and it affects those other than the intended target(s), he must be willing and able to deal with the consequences. Time and experience will teach him to understand how to limit those effects. Personally, I don’t think he should be casting spells unless or until he can mitigate those effects.

The Military says, “Information is king.” In the battlefield, in magic, in growing up, knowledge is the whole battle. If you know something, you can deal with it, you can cope with it, you can assimilate and correct problems caused by it. But you cannot do that without knowing what “it” is.

All these factors combine to make this leg of the Witches’ Pyramid a very important one. To recap slightly, a magician must know himself, know the skills necessary to cast a spell and understand how to deal with unexpected outcomes of the use of those skills. It is helpful to be able to plan ahead and anticipate problems before they occur, as well.

Once the magician understands himself, he can take the step to understand others around them, since it is most likely that others want the same things he wants. Conversely, by seeing qualities in others he can also find those same qualities in himself and work to bring them out.

Robert Heinlein had a wonderful concept for this called “grok,” a verb that means, “to drink.” He defined this concept very well in Stranger in a Strange Land. Grokking something is to know it so deeply that the boundaries between you and it are lost. He then knows the other part of himself so deeply and so intimately that it is impossible to separate out those elements that are “other” and “self.”

Is it reasonable or possible for a magician to grok and simultaneously separate enough of himself so that he can see where the magical process is messing up due to some aspect he is projecting into it? I think it is.

We aren’t dealing with minor truths here, ones that are immutable and verifiable like 2 + 2 = 4. We are dealing with Great Truths that are mutable and subject to other factors, with the result that all answers are just as true. It is possible to be so intermingled with a spell as to have it profoundly impact and affect ourselves, indeed, why would you do a spell otherwise? At the same time it is possible to be objective enough to see where those factors of self that we don’t care for, but which are intermingled with the spell, are affecting the spell.

Once again, this mandates that we know ourselves, if simply so we don’t fall into Oedipus’ trap of dancing to a tune we neither hear nor understand. When he went to the Oracle at Delphi (the same oracle where “Know Thyself” was carved on the lintel), he was told that he would kill his father and marry his mother. Since he didn’t want to kill the people he knew as his parents, he left, argued with a man on the road, killed him and married that gentleman’s widow. This fulfilled the prophecy, as it turned out.

Had he known himself and his life, he would have discovered that the man he killed was his father. Thus, all of this could have been avoided had Oedipus known himself and the truth.

The skills necessary for this corner are obvious, but the knowledge of when to apply them is just as important. It does no good to spend years learning how to cast a spell if those skills are never used. It also makes no sense to go through all this training and sacrifice if the knowledge gained will only be used for the most mundane of purposes. Knowledge of where and when to apply those skills is paramount to a successful outcome.

When you know yourself, you are aware of the energy you are raising, what it feels like when it is static, when it is moving. You will understand how to give that energy shape and purpose. It’s very important to be able to recognize and separate your body’s reactions from those of the magic you are invoking. You also have to know when you have a situation where the bodily reaction you experience is caused by the energy you are using.

One of the basic exercises in my “Energy Work and Magic” class consists of taking in a massive amount of energy that the students have been gathering over the course of two months, and holding it in their bodies for 24 hours. This shows them very clearly what that energy feels like, what their bodies feel like and how they reacts. This exercise is critical so the students know how to operate despite having the energy overload, because that energy interferes with their perceptions and balance.

There are those of us who have medical problems, such as diabetes. I am on medication for my diabetes, but if I couldn’t separate myself from the magic I’m working with, I would never know if my spell was working or not. The energy of the magic is very similar to how I feel when I’m going into sugar overload.

This is a set of skills that the current crop of instant spellbooks seems to gloss over or skip altogether. The student is the one who suffers from this lack.

Knowledge is the key. Information is the key. To know. And knowing is half the battle.

Footnotes

1. It has been pointed out to me that this is known by another name, the Magician’s Pyramid. Since I have never heard of this before now, I did not include this fact in the article. I didn’t want to comment and speak on a subject of which I have no knowledge. But it does not surprise me that this meme or philosophy has been used in other groups, as it is another Great Truth.
2. Referenced from here.

©2006 Eric “Daven” Landrum
Edited by Sheta Kaey

Eric “Daven” Landrum is a Seax Wiccan and the author of Daven’s Journal.

From the middle of February through to the beginning of April, I involved myself in a working I designed around the seven steps of alchemy. I had been reading Dennis Hauck’s The Emerald Tablet: Alchemy for Personal Transformation, and in it he suggested that the seven steps of alchemy could be applied via visualization. He described each step, including much of the imagery, so that the reader could get an idea of how the visualization was supposed to work.¹

I don’t have much use for visualization, which I feel is a poor substitute for actual experience. Both Lisiewski and Frater Albertus argue that to really experience the transformative powers of alchemy, you need to do actual alchemical work in a laboratory (2002, 1974). I agree with this point, though I’d argue that what constitutes a laboratory can differ from person to person, depending on circumstances. I, for instance, have neither the money nor the space to have a proper working alchemy lab (in the classic sense of the word). I can, however, work with some forms of plant alchemy, which is a start on the physical lab work. But another laboratory exists, which I’ve been actively working in for the last ten years of my life. That laboratory is comprised of my body and my consciousness. My body provides the physical setting, and my consciousness provides the vehicle by which I explore and run experiments on both the laboratory of my body and the laboratory of my surroundings.

While I found Hauck’s concept of working with seven steps of alchemy to be interesting, I didn’t want to rely solely on visualization to interface with the different alchemical steps. I would read the chapter about each alchemical step only after I had already meditated once on the particular step I was going to work with for that week. Additionally, I decided to include several other magical techniques into the overall working so that I wouldn’t be relying on one technique alone. Finally, I wanted to externally manifest these steps into my life, so although much of the work occurred internally, the results also played themselves out in my life.

The seven steps of alchemy are as follows: Calcination, Dissolution, Separation, Conjunction, Fermentation, Distillation, and Coagulation. Each step of alchemy is part of a process of refinement that is meant to excise impurities, both from the substance worked with, and from the actual practitioner. This means that the practitioner comes face to face with hir own insecurities and issues, and through the process of alchemy, ends up refining hirself. The work on a physical substance in a laboratory is meant to refine the substance, but also act as a parallel reality that reinforces the internal process the practitioner is going through.^2,3 Again, I note that I took a different approach in method, but the overall theory proved to be very sound, as I would intimately experience.

When I first decided to do this alchemical working, I was getting ready to move across the country to Seattle, Washington. I had never been to the Pacific Northwest, and thought that it might be ideal to undergo this alchemical process to change my life while actually planning on a big life change. The move certainly contributed to the magical working, even as the working, in turn, contributed to the move.

I also decided to draw on the Dehara system of magic, based off of Storm Constantine’s Wraeththu series. In alchemy, various images show the hermaphrodite as the fully realized alchemist who is in touch with all aspects of hirself. I felt it appropriate to work with the hermaphroditic paradigm of Dehara, utilizing it to get further in touch with the alchemical principle of transmutation. On a personal level, I’d always found my workings in the Dehara system to be highly effective, and felt it could only contribute to the working I had in mind. I decided to mix the meditation on each alchemical step with some pathworking in the Dehara system, where I would find and work with a seven-faced Dehar godform who embodied the transformative mysteries of alchemy.

On a side note, I was also reading Don Webb’s Uncle Setnakt’s Essential Guide to the Left Hand Path, and found his explanation of the seven steps of initiation to be strikingly similar to the seven processes of alchemy. His seven steps of initiation are Wandering, Shock, Daydreaming, Shock, School, Shock, and Work.⁴ I decided to merge Webb’s concept of initiation with Hauck’s steps of alchemy. I found that devising my own initiatory approach to express the end of a cycle of my life and the beginning of another cycle to be more effective than what was offered solely in their books. Sometimes a personalized ritual is more effective because you invest more personal power into it and the ritual is not entirely planned out. In other words, the ritual is a discovery, which emphasizes the idea that an initiation should be about discovery.

When I did my first week of meditation, I worked with the Dehar known as Aghama, who is the central godform in the Wraeththu Mythos. My purpose in working with him was to be introduced to the Dehara of Alchemy. This Dehara had seven faces and seven forms, but was one and the same. Each face and form represented one aspect of alchemy, and each week the Dehara of that week served as an initiator and guide into the particular step of alchemy I was working with.

The first week of my initiation was focused on Calcination, which is the first alchemical process. Calcination is a burning fire which destroys the ego, leaving ashes.¹ Another way to consider calcination is that it shows you, through different incidents, how you create illusions of ego to protect yourself from harsh truths. In Webb’s model, this step would be Wandering — specifically, feeling the need to wander away from what is safe and to risk the unknown.⁴ In choosing to undergo this process, I was wandering from what I thought I knew about myself and the world around me. The Dehara of that week was named Areha. He had a muscular, ebony body that emanated heat. He wore a long headdress that flamed at the ends and his face was hidden behind a mask, but when the mask was taken away I found a scarred and pocked face. His voice rasped, a bare whisper, burned out by the fires contained with him. He would take me harshly to task everyday in my meditations, but also in moments after an incident had occurred that reminded me of calcination.

My experiences during the week of calcination involved either fits of temper or highly embarrassing situations. Upon reflection, I could see that I had sabotaged myself with my ego in each incident. This internal awareness seemed only to bring more incidents forth into my external environment, as if to fully force me to face the full extent of how my ego deceived me. The burning of calcination showed the single greatest fear of the ego: the feeling of loss and failure. But the ashes left behind opened me up to the realization that there was also growth potential to be experienced if I could just endure the fires of humiliation that calcination offered me.

The next week was Dissolution. The Dehar of that week was named Elolis. He had a blue body and was dressed as a clown or a jester, which was rather appropriate for the alchemical step of dissolution. This step takes the ashes of calcination and sifts away any lies that continue to cling, via the purification of water.¹ In Webb’s model, this step is Shock — specifically, feeling the shock of your illusions being peeled away from you, exposing the truth underneath.⁴ I held tightly to the lies that were most dear to me, and that protected me from fully facing responsibility for my choices. The easy rationalizations and excuses I had didn’t hold water in the step of dissolution, as Elolis mocked me with the truth, showing me in a very harsh, somewhat funny manner how easily I lied to myself. This week of meditation was particularly hard for me, because I came face to face with a lie I’d told myself about graduate school: that it wasn’t my fault that I didn’t succeed. Over the course of that week I was forced to review and admit that much of the responsibility for not succeeding laid ay my feet. The actual meditations often had me feeling as if I were deep underwater, feeling an irresistible pressure shape me, much like a diamond.

The first two meditations and subsequent external experiences occurred right before Lupa and I moved. The week we drove out to Seattle was the third week, and it was rather appropriate that the third step of alchemy was Separation. I was being separated from every environment and person I knew. I had never even visited the state of Washington and had no idea what waited out there for me. I would feel, in the coming month, both homesickness and a sense of culture shock.

Lhah was the name of the Dehar of Separation. He had one black hand and one white hand. Separation is the alchemical process of removing any remaining impurities by bringing them to the surface.¹ In Webb’s model, this process is Daydreaming, which was also appropriate for this trip as I felt at times as if I were in a dream.⁴ While my actual week of driving across the country went well, the process of being removed, being separated, brought many insecurities about the choices I’d made to the surface. Throughout this week Lhah manifested mostly in my dreams, a subconscious reminder of the process I was working through, and a gentle but insistent presence. My clearest memory was of my head in his lap, his hands gently reaching in and plucking out strings of energy that represented all of my fears.

Week four found Lupa and I in Seattle. We stayed with her aunt and uncle indefinitely. I admit that the following month and a half were stressful months for me. While they put us up, there was always a sense of tension. It wasn’t that they didn’t want us to stay with them, but I think no one anticipated how long it would take for us to find jobs and get our own place to stay. I would feel increasingly alone and alienated as I continually found frustration in my job searches. It never occurred to me that the alchemical process might be having an effect on the job hunt and on how people viewed me (more on this later).

The fourth process of alchemy is Conjunction. This is a process of bringing together what remains after the first three processes. The practitioner must choose whether s/he will follow through on the process or go back to the state s/he was previously in.¹ I chose to move forward. In Webb’s model, this step is Shock. Although this step of shock has been experienced before, another experience of it is not unwarranted given that initiation is about facing new circumstances and new aspects of the self.⁴ The Dehar for this step is named Voorhalis. He is faceless except for a nose, and was frustrating to deal with for both the lack of a voice and the lack of features. In fact, I suppose he fits in that he illustrates the unfinished state and the hinted promise of becoming more. Likewise, his lack of a face leaves a lack of ego, which is often mistakenly assumed to be the identity of the person. And yet just as the nose is only part of a person’s face and not the whole of it, so too is the ego only a part of a person’s identity. I felt this process through a five hour walking meditation that left me feeling even more disconnected with Seattle and unfinished in general. This step was also the beginning of the most painful parts of this alchemical journey.

The alchemical process of week five was Fermentation. Fermentation is about new fertility, but also about experiencing putrefaction, which provides the manure for the fermenting process. Putrefaction is wallowing in the left over bits of ego, and challenging yourself to transmute them to something better.¹ In Webb’s model, this step is School, about schooling and teaching yourself. I experienced the very painful realization that I likely wasn’t qualified for the jobs I was applying for. The Dehar was named Dvelin. He was golden in appearance, but had black hands. I recall that my meditations had a lot of yellow light in them, a sense for me of being purified, of facing the last deepest ingrained beliefs about myself and realizing how unfounded they were, but also knowing I could grow from them. I realized that I needed to acquire new skills and market myself differently, and to a broader potential job market, than I had previously thought. It was during this week that I fell into a very deep depression that wouldn’t lift until several weeks after the alchemical process had seemingly finished.

The sixth process of alchemy is Distillation, and the sixth step for Webb’s model of initiation is Shock. The process of distillation is cleaning out or washing away the final debris and making sure the person is ready for the final step.¹ Likewise, the experience of shock in initiation is once again having the experience of the unknown. A person falls into a routine, even with initiation, but the process is about avoiding too much routine, so shock is necessary for bringing a person out of complacency.⁴ The Dehar for this step is named Baloor. He has a blue face, but from that face extends the faces and aspects of the other dehar that are part of the alchemical process, as well as their arms. He looks similar to an Indian god. My experience in this week during the meditations and external experiences was a deepening of the depression. On a Saturday morning, after wandering for four hours around downtown Seattle, I came back to my mate. She helped me see how far into depression I’d fallen, how I’d created a shell of negative energy that was blocking my progress. This was confirmed several days letter by a fellow occultist who’d shown my resume to a recruiter, who could feel the negativity and said that she wouldn’t interview me because of that energy. The distillation of the depression was my choice in no longer allowing myself to be a victim, but making active changes in my methods and goals for finding a job.

The seventh process is Coagulation, and in Webb’s model is Work. Work is appropriate, because initiation doesn’t stop. It involves work, and continuing the process of transformation even after the obvious ritual is done.⁴ Likewise, coagulation is only the beginning of more alchemical work. It is a condensation (and dissolving at the same time) of what is left of the person, a preparation for more alchemical work and for a rebirth of the person — a transformation into a new being.¹ Oddly enough, my experience for coagulation was not a Dehar, but instead an entity that I’ve had intimate experiences with before: the Phoenix. The Phoenix did not do or say anything beyond telling me to wait, that my opportunities would line up shortly. I still felt rather devastated when, at the end of that last week of alchemical workings, I found a job as a house cleaner. In retrospect, I realize I still needed to purify myself — that although the obvious process was done, the actual working was far from over, and the house cleaning job was a sign from the powers that be that I needed to clean up my attitude to the entire process. I was too focused on getting an obvious result, as opposed to experiencing the process.

I only worked at the house cleaning job for a week, but that week gave me a lot of time to think and consider how I was presenting myself, and my attitude toward the move and everything else that had happened. Instead of blaming others and general circumstances, I started to critically look at my own behavior and examine how I contributed to the various situations I’d found myself in over the course of not just recent months, but also the past couple of years.

My condensation was the realization of how often I’d created situations that were unfavorable for me. My dissolving was letting go of my own role in those patterns, so I could remove myself from them. In the weeks after my alchemical working officially ended, I gradually became acclimated to my new environment. My attitude and energy also changed, and I found myself getting many more interviews. Eventually, Lupa and I moved into our new home, and although the process of that move was somewhat stressful (we moved into a house being renovated), nonetheless we found a home. Literally on the first day that we moved in, I received a call and was told I now had a job at Boeing as a technical writer.

I wouldn’t start this job for several weeks, which would actually be useful for the alchemical process that was still playing itself out in my life. Over those weeks, Lupa and I unpacked, and I had the opportunity to go through memories, reflect on prior experiences, and decide what I needed to get rid of, on both a physical level and a spiritual level. It was also during those weeks that Lupa and I presented at the Florida Pagan Gathering. While there, I was finally able to close what summed up a cycle of my life — a cycle of emotional chaos and uncertain circumstances. That weekend, I got my first tattoo — a phoenix — and in my dreams that night, Phoenix told me that my first cycle of my life was finished and I was now moving into my second cycle.

Since getting that tattoo, I’ve felt different. I’ve felt more confident about my choices, and about the direction of my life. I’ve felt reborn, and I’m still feeling this process of birth, of change. I have no idea where it will take me. I only know that the seven-week ritual I did was a gestation period, a period of sacrifice, and from that, renewal and transformation.

Footnotes

1. Hauck, Dennis William (1999) The Emerald Tablet: Alchemy for Personal Transformation; New York: Penguin Compass
2. Frater Albertus (1974) Alchemists Handbook: (Manual for Practical Laboratory Alchemy; York Beach: Weiser Books
3. Lisiwieski, Joseph C (2002) “The Alchemical Teachings of Frater Albertus” in Christopher S. Hyatt (ed.) Undoing Yourself With Energized Meditation and Other Devices; Tempe: New Falcon Press
4. Webb, Donald (1999) Uncle Setnakt’s Essential Guide to the Left Hand Path; Smithville: Runa-Raven Press.

Taylor Ellwood is the author of Space/Time Magic, Inner Alchemy: Energy Work and the Magic of the Body, and Pop Culture Magick, among other works. You can visit his blog at http://magicalexperiments.com/ and his website at http://www.thegreenwolf.com/.

©2006 Taylor Ellwood
Edited by Sheta Kaey

The task of the excellent teacher is to stimulate “apparently ordinary” people to unusual effort. The tough problem is not in identifying winners: it is in making winners out of ordinary people.¹ — K. Patricia Cross

It was hard to do this work. I haven’t been compelled to sit on the sidelines to castigate others for their views on Thelema since I was a teen, and I decided I wouldn’t do it now. Instead, I would simply show an opposing point of view collected from various writings which first appeared in The Templar Cross. [The official communiqué for members of The Order of Thelemic Knights.] This alternative point of view is, in my opinion, every bit as valid as the so-called accepted wisdom. I have always made my opinions known, regardless of how unpopular they might be within my own peer group, always keeping in mind that for Thelema to become a living tradition it must be lived like it matters to me. Eventually, one is going to have to put those beautiful leather-bound, first edition tomes down and get up from that comfy armchair and apply what they have learned in the real world. Test all things; hold fast to that which is good.

Many of today’s magicians appear to have forgotten that they can use magick to change the world in which they live. This takes a lot of physical work, and so they many have learned to hide behind a lot of theory, philosophical argument, and critique of those very few magicians that have the vision and gumption to see the world they can have as opposed to settling for the world they have today.

Crowley may have unintentionally done the art of magick a great disservice by painting it with such a wide brush. In many ways the word “magick” has lost all meaning, it has been reduced to make people happy about the tedious mundane activities they feel imprisoned by as they live out a miserably boring lives. It makes cowards feel at home in their self-made prisons, when magick should be the very thing that liberates people from their going-nowhere existences.

One could make an equally valid argument that magick, as Crowley defined it, is actually really a good thing because it makes people feel good about doing some very unwholesome things, but this isn’t how I see it, and it isn’t why I have dedicated my entire life to its study. I do agree with Crowley’s basic premise, however: “Magick is the Art and Science of causing change to occur in conformity with Will.²” What I disagree with is the idea that any “willed act” can be a magical act. If this were true, then any trivial predetermined action (such as blowing ones nose) is classifiable as “magical act.” One hardly needs to study magick, qabalah, and much less Crowley to do those things.

My pseudo-intellectual critics say my writings are “simple,” or that I have “ghettoized Thelema” for having the audacity of writing in a plain English, but they think nothing of Crowley’s painting magick with such a wide brush that the sheer act of wiping ones bottom after a bowel movement can be an act just as magical as Knowledge and Conversation with one’s Holy Guardian Angel. While this might have helped him increase the market for the sales of his books, it also helped to devalue the Art of Magick by perpetuating the idea that it requires anything less than a lifetime of study.

My choice to write in plain English is a source of great pride for me for many reasons, one of which is the fact that English is for me a second language. When I decided to write about Thelema, I wanted to do so in a way that I could reach the largest number of people — not to sell books, but because of the potential Thelema possesses to change the course of humanity. If one loves something, they share it with others. Evidently, my books don’t serve to keep Thelema confined to a few delusional individuals that actually believe they are the only worthy recipients of this paradigm. In response, I just have to restate Crowley’s sentiments: “The Law is for ALL!³”

Even Crowley wasn’t able to make money selling his books to such a limited audience. He had to die before his material became valuable, not because his message is any more important today than it was during his own time, but because of the book collectors who believe that the magick is in the text itself. It is as if they believe that owning a first edition signed copy exempts them from doing the recommended work. What a sad commentary of Thelemic culture.

Furthermore, many of the folks that criticize my work appear to lack the courage to publish their own ideas, putting their own necks to the block for the unkind scrutiny that has become so popular with many Thelemites. I was surprised to find that much of the criticism has come from people who have not even read my books. They simply adopt the various assumptions made by someone else who thinks the message is more meaningful if one needs an encyclopedia and an eight-year college degree to understand it. And yet these superior minds often question my sincerity. I have been asked if “that little red book” will be at my side on my dying bed. This seems a rather strange question coming from a group of people that want Thelema to only be understood by a class of their own making. Wouldn’t you expect a person to actually have some understanding of Thelema in order for The Book of the Law to be so meaningful to them that they’d want it with them when they died? I am more interested in living as a Thelemite. The dying part will take care of itself. But for what it is worth, that book has been my constant companion for more than half of my life. I sincerely hope it will be well within reach when I come to the end.

It is necessary to make some things perfectly clear from the very beginning. I will begin by making my standard disclaimer: The thoughts penned for this paper (yes, a pen and a paper were used) are my opinions. I am a Thelemite, and therefore my opinions will be colored by my understanding of Thelema. Just like anyone else, this understanding comes from my personal interpretation of various Thelemic holy books, comparative religion, and mythology, and from trying to live my life accordingly. Are these ideas biased in any way? Yes, of course they are. And for this reason, what you read here should not be misconstrued as an attempt to force my opinion on the masses. This should only serve as an example.

I have been very critical about many popular ideas. It is inevitable that my writing will once again be subject to much speculation and assumption, and therefore some clarification becomes a necessity. Generally speaking, in the pop-Thelemic culture there are three simplified categories of Thelemites: conservative, liberal (sounds like Liber Al!), and fundamental.

I find myself to be conservative with regard to policy. To me, accountability equals credibility, and I like it when people walk the talk. I wasn’t always this way, but serving on various boards of Thelemic bodies has shaped my feelings about responsibility, devotion, and personal sacrifice.

When it comes to people’s lives outside of their organizational duties and responsibilities I tend to be very liberal. “Do what thou wilt,” and “Man has the right to live by his own law.”

How I feel about fundamentalism will become apparent as you read this series. But suffice it to say that I believe fundamentalism has no place in enlightened societies.

So there you have it: organizationally conservative, individually liberal, with a violent distaste for any form of fundamentalism. This doesn’t mean that I will not approach some subject with unwavering determination and conviction. It is hard to get result without that discipline. I believe that one should approach organizational duties professionally, and conduct business within the organization like a soldier. Oaths, regardless of where they are made, are important because how one maintains them speaks volumes of that person’s integrity. But more important than the oath one makes to an organization is the integrity with which the organization requires those oaths from its members. If the leaders of an organization do not appear to take their roles and responsibilities seriously, then how can they expect their members to stick to their oaths? Remember this, because it is important.

These are my observations, and they are offered here as an example of my struggle to live my life as a Thelemite in the world. This is what Indian philosophy refers to as Karma Yoga. Karma implies movement and action. I abhor people who call themselves Thelemites but shrug the awesome responsibility that is implied by that statement. In my opinion, there are entirely too many soldiers that play and won’t fight, and many of them have infiltrated organizations devoted to the Liberty of Man. To make matters worse, the people that run these organizations don’t seem to mind since a toy soldier and a real one each pays the same dues.

When it comes to my criticism of democracy, patriotism, and capitalism, you might feel compelled to think of me a communist, socialist, or anti-American. American politics is something I am most familiar with, because, well… I live here. I am aware of many, many other countries whose governments lack any form of ethical conduct at all, torturing and killing their own people because no one strong enough will stand against them. So, yes… I am aware of the atrocities committed in other countries, but I do not have first hand experience of being a citizen there, and for this, I am eternally grateful. I am an American by choice. I don’t have to stay here, and yet I do. I believe that should speak volumes about my feelings for this country.

I have been called a lot of unkind things for holding these views. My motives are always questioned, and I have heard my share of “love it or leave it.” As easy as that would be, I won’t. I can’t. If I complain about something, it is because I love it. Why try to change something you don’t care about? I am neither a coward nor a blind man. If you’d like to believe that Thelema has nothing to do with politics, you probably won’t care for many of the things in this series.

Having said all of this, it might surprise you to learn that I do not believe that all men are created equal. But I believe that all men, not just the privileged, should start with the same opportunities to exceed, for that is the only way that true valor, intelligence, virtue, and greatness can ever manifest on a national level. The people of this country have a lot to offer. They just need the opportunity to show what they are made of. As it is, only the privileged can afford health care and a good education. This from a government claiming to be the “richest country in the world.” It may be naïve to think that these issues can be addressed today when capitalism has become the modern god. But I feel compelled to try, because in my heart I believe ethical people must speak out against injustice everywhere. If ever there was a need for ethical conduct, it is today.

These are dangerous times for lovers of freedom and liberty, and anyone that speaks against oppression and tyranny does so at great personal risk. I imagine the Gnostics must have felt very much like lovers of freedom do today, and I reckon that if the oppression does not stop, then organizations dedicated to the preservation of democracy and freedom will be compelled to operate in secrecy, just as they have historically.

The basic premise of ethics is universal. It is the method — the art of distinguishing, the differences between noble and dishonorable, good and bad, commendable and appalling, just and unfair. We can see the application of ethics everywhere.

Ethics are important because they can provide a method to discovering a higher road, a path of honor and justice without having to resort to religious or superstitious justification. They are important because they help us learn to recognize why we do the things we do and how we justify them. After all, right action must by necessity begin with right thought. So let us shed the stinking thinking, the false pretenses, excuses, and justifications that serve us so well to pull us further and further away from our own Truth. Let us instead turn our attention to those things we already know to be in accordance with our own True Will and act accordingly to become agents of the Divine, and since we are destined to be remembered by our actions, then let us be remembered for being ethical soldiers in the battle against illusion. Since we are destined to make our mark, then let us collectively make that mark a testament of devotion to the Beloved whom we adore and serve. Let’s begin setting the bar for those that will come after us.

Aleister Crowley briefly touches on the subject of ethics in Duty, and in his letters to students. While I am afraid that this series of writings fall short for the reason that it is limited to one person’s experience, it is my sincerest hope that it will cause you, the reader, to examine your own thoughts in light of the material contained in all metaphysical, philosophical, and religious material, whether they be explicitly Thelemic or not. It is my wish that others will be inspired to write about how Thelemic Gnosticism has influenced their own ethics and then share this information with others. This might in turn lead to a greater understanding of Thelema as a personal human experience rather than something that happened exclusively to Crowley… which will hopefully help to put Thelema into the lives of those people that The Prophet wanted to reach, as opposed to keeping it confined to the bookshelves of those individuals that wish to control the tremendous industry that Crowley’s work has become.

If you are the sort of Thelemite who considers “going with the program” the proper course when the waters become choppy, or prefers to believe the lies we are told by our leaders, then you might want to reconsider going any further, as what you read may do little more than insult you. I hope that you will keep reading, and if perchance the words you read here inspire you to take a different philosophical look at what Thelema might be, or makes you question your own beliefs and motives, then making these thoughts available to you has been worth it.

Once upon a time, all of us thought of Truth as indisputable. Our society and parents, seeking security, used those truths to justify the oppression of rules and regulations. When those rules restricted our passion, or attempted to extinguish our curiosity, we made the same mistake that humans have made since time immemorial — we rebelled against the Truth which appeared to be the source of restriction. In our youth we lacked the experience and skill to realize that rules and Truth are not one in the same thing, and so we veiled the source of our oppression instead of approaching the problem with the rules. By way of peer pressure we learned about the dangers of uncensored truth, and so we created socially acceptable loopholes to insulate ourselves against our own helplessness or the shortcomings of our loved ones, such as Oscar Wilde’s concept of the “casual lie” (the so-called “white lie” of politeness and tact). The “noble lie” in Plato’s Republic — a way of keeping people in their place by making them believe that their true nature has been crafted by some god or gods.

Convenience and financial advantage make it easy for us to adopt the idea that ethics were situational or subject to economics, or that truth might depend on status, social position, income, or degree; or that some are beyond secular law while others less fortunate are subject to it. Once upon the time, the Law was for ALL. The following thoughts are little more than my attempt to return to that time, and come to terms with my own hypocrisy.

The greatest human shame is that we hold the keys to greatness, the means to manifest our destiny and change the world, but instead choose a path less honorable for the sake of the same distractions that keep us from manifesting our own true purpose.

Footnotes:

1. Classroom Assessment Techniques: A Handbook for College Teachers (Jossey Bass Higher and Adult Education Series), 2nd Edition — February 1993, Jossey-Bass Inc Pub.
2. Magick: Book 4, Liber Aba, 2nd Rev edition — January 1998, Weiser Books.
3. The Book of the Law: Liber Al Vel Legis I:34

Gerald del Campo is the author of A Heretic’s Guide to Thelema, New Aeon Magick: Thelema Without Tears, and New Aeon English Qabalah Revealed, among other works. You can visit his blog at http://solis93.livejournal.com and his website at http://thelemicknights.org. Gerald serves as Senior Managing Editor of Rending the Veil. He also writes music and plays in bands.

©2007 Gerald del Campo
Edited by Sheta Kaey