Occulture

by Carl Abrahamsson

  WHEN WE BEGIN TO LOOK at the term mysticism, which we can allow ourselves to use for the lack of a better one, we soon realize it is probably the most important thing there is within this exciting area of research we work in. There are many entry points and motivations to begin with some kind of esoteric self-development process, but it’s often the same kinds that become truly decisive. In the “inner”—regardless of where we wish to place that sphere—things, emotions, information, and advice appear that can be life changing. The methods may vary: meditation, ritual, chemo-gnosis, sex, conscious exhaustion, and so on. In mind frames where our rational police force is temporarily short-circuited, things, symbols, intelligences, spirits, and beings quite often pop up. Some may be ephemeral or just entertaining, whereas others may tangibly affect us and the rest of our lives. It is almost like we’re containing a large amount of relevant truths and insights but that we’re fearful of taking part in it all. Why? Because it would considerably affect the controlled rational reality of daily life.

  Mysticism exists in all cultures, all religions, all esoteric societies. The experience and its insights may then be clothed in cultural or religious clothing, but it’s always a highly personal phenomenon. Most cultures early on indoctrinate against this kind of experience and call it unreal or evil or devoid of meaning. Now we’re talking about power structures, that is, collective defense mechanisms of organisms and processes. If someone within a given collective randomly experiences or allows him- or herself to experience different and overwhelming things on the inside, free and without assistance from established and sanctioned professional proxies, there might be a chance that others would want that too, which could complicate things enormously.

  We’re living in a culture where most of the inner experiences are rationalized away as hocus-pocus. We don’t risk death or too heavy stratification if we explore these things, but a sense of ridicule and stigmatization is totally possible if you don’t adapt and conform to the comfort-zone control.

  What this is really all about is taking oneself seriously. This is very important. You have to take yourself seriously. You have to take your impulses seriously and interpret them through your own, individual filter. Even within specialized esoteric systems there are equally hindering and stigmatizing functions that contain the very same ingredients as outside: structures and power. And then there is the mighty prerogative of interpretation. The aspect of interpretation becomes especially difficult as having overwhelming experiences in the inner is something most people actually want to share with like-minded people. But within all structures and hierarchies there’s the risk that you demote yourself at the cost of someone else’s validation or interpretation. This is very counterproductive.

  It could be that collective systems in general, despite meaning well, actually oppose the individual flow of inspiration, thoughts, and ideas. I’ll say “could be,” as I have no evidence of it. And the reason for this is simple: I don’t want any evidence of it, nor of the opposite. And the reason for this is even simpler: I value my own flow and my own source, so to speak, higher than many other things in life. In my own interpretation model it simply doesn’t work to apply “mine” to “yours” or vice versa.

  Now we’re getting closer to the core of the dilemma. Could it be that there is something distinctly un-Thelemic—even within the Thelemic magical “system”—that in the outer consists of a distinct power structure with interpretation prerogatives, and that also contains techniques that try to integrate empiricism in something that basically consists of single epiphanies in an ultrasubjective and highly irrational individuation process?

  Is it at all possible to methodically work to achieve epiphanic states of mind? I’m sure it is, but it’s far too easy to be drowned in a “systematism” or in repeated, rational hopes as self-fulfilling prophecies. What works for one doesn’t necessarily work for another. Yes, there may be a collective unconscious à la Jung, and maybe we all essentially experience the same mythical symbols in a certain state of mind that can then also be shared. And yes, there may be intelligences and beings that pop up like dogs when you call them by their right names, over and over. And yes—who knows?—there may even be cosmic forces that need our help as individual human beings, and vice versa. But the question remains whether all of these techniques and collective perspectives in totality signify a devaluation of the decidedly individual principle of intuition.

  The mystical experience can probably only be validated through the effect it has in the moment or in the process of integration. Does it affect life? Its directions? Does it linger? We can see many parallel things within the dream sphere. We all know that dreams are amazing and we are inspired by them, terrified by them, we enjoy them and respect them. But yet they’re not fully there when we wake up, that is, wake up to the benevolent tyranny of the rational mind. Epiphanies and reception of esoteric energy and information take place in a different state of mind that is not a dream state. And even here there is the usual devaluation of the value itself, even with those who’ve actually experienced it all: “It was just a weird thought or perhaps it was a daydream. No matter what, it wasn’t for real. . . .”

  But this doesn’t really concern us here, because we belong to those who take this seriously. Yet new and critical thought processes always occur. It is as if the rational at every cost must protect normality and its power structures. Yes, perhaps it was a revolutionary personal insight but still it needs to be validated through a specific magical system to be able to be sanctioned as being “real” or “relevant.”

  It is the safety functions of the collective environment that have developed rationality and so-called normality. Its tool is a language that’s usable for one sphere but not for the other. It’s enough to communicate basic information and emotions but not in deeper (or higher) composites or clusters. Instead, art, poetry, music, and other creative expressions have been responsible for that important interface function throughout the millennia.

  One of the main critical arguments against language, for instance in Buddhism, is the tendency to not be able to avoid the fact that it inherently contains one subject and one object; there is an inherent structural dividing line between seer and the seen. If language isn’t enough it is of course incredibly difficult to convey something outside the causal and the already known. As D. T. Suzuki put it,

  We cling to language and think that it is the thing which it represents. This habit of taking the symbol for reality does a great deal of harm in our daily life. Language is a most useful instrument, perhaps the most important means of communication that we humans have ever invented, but we frequently fail to understand that because of this usefulness, language enslaves us.1

  To listen to a stoned individual eventually becomes quite depressing, regardless how amazing everything seems to be for the person in question. In the case of Eastern philosophy, the platitudes can become almost ridiculous: “All is one,” “All is love,” and so on. Perhaps all is one, but what does that really mean? And how can you integrate an insight like that without becoming like a noncritical member of a cultic egregore? Of course you have to experience it yourself to be able to understand and interpret. Perhaps you choose to formulate it in a similar way, and perhaps not.

  The human being has a fundamental need to share both inner and outer experiences with others, not infrequently to claim territory and strengthen his or her position of experience. But the sharing can also take place because of genuine altruism or because one simply can’t help oneself. When the need to share becomes stronger than the ability to empathically feel if someone is interested in listening or not, complications occur. But the sociopathic comedy (or tragedy) that can take place at moments like that doesn’t necessarily mean that the original personal experience is without value or meaning. The challenge lies in the language one uses, and when.

  Let’s take a look at Crowley’s elaborate system and well-known slogan, “The method of science, the aim of religion.” The metho
d of science? This basically means repeated experiments—so-called empiricism. But why should a single experience that will never come back (despite repeated attempts with the very same technique or ritual) be devoid of meaning or value? Why should its effect be looked down upon? Why should the technique or the prerequisites be looked down upon simply because they can’t be perfectly repeated? To strive for a rational exactitude and analysis of things that belong on completely different planes is, in my opinion, to repeatedly hit your head against a wall of dull and painful concrete.

  The method of science? Perhaps. The risk of spiritual imperialism becomes a tangible threat. The aim of religion? Perhaps. The risk of fanaticism and fundamentalism becomes an equally tangible threat.

  Good ideas never need to be tested empirically unless the application of the idea within a certain environment demands it. Usually ideas get a life of their own as soon as they’ve reached the surface. And all ideas are definitely not utilitarian; that is, they’re not there to be used systematically and rationally at all. If you encounter an intelligence or different kind of being in a higher state of consciousness, isn’t it then a bit condescending (or even rude) to come back after this and ask for the same answer or the same insight again? There must surely be a risk that the intelligence or being in question will end up believing that you are mentally challenged. But if you take that unique epiphany seriously, things could indeed get interesting.

  Many scientists, both well-known and not so well-known, are as conscious of the mysteries of the origin of ideas as mystics or artists. It’s always a question of a eureka moment—a distinct leap of progress, a quantum step, a caprice, a flash—despite the fact that the daily grind may consist of methodical, trench-digging, empirical work. It is the mind frame of the immediate moment that facilitates the growth and blossoming stemming from a seed that may have existed underneath the surface for a long time. One of our most brilliant scientists during the twentieth century, Nikola Tesla, wrote a lot about his own creative processes. It’s fascinating when an extremely rational individual and scientist accounts for the details:

  Back in the deep recesses of the brain was the solution, but I couldn’t yet give it outward expression. One afternoon, which is ever present in my recollection, I was enjoying a walk with my friend in the City Park and reciting poetry. At that age I knew entire books by heart, word for word. One of these was Goethe’s Faust. The sun was just setting and reminded me of the glorious passage:

  The glow retreats, done is the day of toil;

  It yonder hastes, new fields of life exploring;

  Ah, that no wing can lift me from the soil,

  Upon its track to follow, follow soaring!

  A glorious dream! though now the glories fade.

  Alas! the wings that lift the mind no aid

  Of wings to lift the body can bequeath me.

  As I uttered these inspiring words the idea came like a flash of lightning and in an instant the truth was revealed. I drew with a stick on the sand the diagrams shown six years later in my address before the American Institute of Electrical Engineers, and my companion understood them perfectly.2

  I believe that the key to this is simply that you immediately take your own experiences and impressions seriously. An impression isn’t worth more or less because it is diligently being analyzed by a rational mind frame. Safety is an illusion. Conviction always contains the seeds of fanaticism. Messianism is a romantic relationship to the denial of solipsism, where you take for granted that someone else cares as much as you do. Quite often it is a misdirected hope.

  Each and everyone’s truth is unique, just like in the cases with the central terms will and love. As far as I know, will can’t be rationally analyzed. “If will stops and asks Why, invoking Because, then Will stops & does nought / If Power asks why, then is Power weakness,” and so on.3 The same for love, unless you break down the term itself and its emotional cluster into strictly biochemical particles. But that isn’t really something one does, is it?

  Structures always mean safety in authority. This is something most people need on some level. But valuable realizations usually come when you actually break the norms, structures, authorities, and safeties—at the least one’s own. It’s not exactly like an end in itself, but almost. Let’s not forget that the health of a structure or organism is also kept up and vital by allowing a certain degree of rebellion. If that isn’t allowed, the immune defense system can’t strengthen the totality, which eventually could be fatal.

  Paradoxically, we live in a culture that doesn’t fully encourage irrationality and intuition via usable, essential techniques but still happily provides them via demagogic proxies like fiction and entertainment. Rational and critical processes are dulled by passive reception of irrational signals and mind-numbing programs. That which is supposed to facilitate communication and an exchange of information usually leads to the opposite. Today, we’re learning through fiction rather than through fact, and this via technical platforms rather than intuition, curiosity, and inherited wisdom. Even here we can see an interesting and dynamic sphere between the individualistic and collective perspective. It’s not the technology or the scientific triumphs that constitute the problem in itself. On the contrary; these are excellent for individual learning and inspiration. The problem lies in the collective and commercial application of the technology. And in the latter, there’s usually an integrated set of morals that undermines individual initiatives and the individual’s reliance on his or her own intuitive motion. This perspective thereby reminds one of the relationship between the subjective, esoteric process of individuation and existing systems, structures, and groups. The possibilities for revolutionary personal change are within reach, but they are drowned in prepackaged solutions that, of course, are sold for a hefty fee.

  But “different strokes for different folks.” In the valuing of one’s own path there must always be a tolerance in regard to others. No matter how crazy or absurd other people’s paths may seem, there simply are no templates that are applicable for everyone. But when you’re genuinely on your own path you’re not supposed to have either time or energy enough to criticize others. It’s a fact as certain as the one that shows that the frequency of auspicious synchronicities increases when you’re on the right path—that is, your own path.

  Is there then no evidence in favor of a more homogenous and collectivistic view? The one closest to hand is scientific, in the sense of “biologistic.” If we are equipped with filtering and defense mechanisms that are the same for all of us as a species, then the direct, gnostic, epiphanic experience and its physical, biological prerequisites could be too.

  One symbol within Hinduism and later on within psychedelic mythology is the third eye—the eye that facilitates inner visions and insights. On a purely aesthetic-mythological level, the eye of Shiva has been a perfect symbol for the human desire to see more. But in actual fact there’s more behind this than meets the eye (even the eye of Shiva!). The third eye has been isolated and defined as the pineal gland, which is situated between the brain halves in the front side of the brain, as a kind of bridge. This gland is actually the remnant of an actual third eye. One living example of (and possible evidence for) this theory is a New Zealand lizard, the tuatara, that has a section at the middle top of its head with a third eye inside it. This parietal eye is no longer connected to the sight center of the brain but has started to function as a gland. Already in the nineteenth century a conclusion was made that our own pineal glands had at one time been exactly like this.

  The hormone that is secreted from this gland in mammals is called melatonin. We recognize the name from the little pill you take when you’re jet-lagged and trying to normalize the sleep cycle (which of course regulates the dream cycle). Melatonin is created in the gland after having been triggered by serotonin: the agent or substance that sends nerve impulses via the synapses. Humans have more serotonin than other mammals, and this has led to advanced, abstracted thinking and creative imp
ulses, making it a highly significant key to our own evolution. If we posit that the gland was actually an eye once upon a time, or existed as an even stronger gland with higher levels of serotonin, it is highly likely that early humans experienced much stronger visions. It can’t be ruled out that a higher dose of melatonin from the pineal gland affected sleeping in a much more dream-inducing way. We should also add here that psychedelic agents like mescaline and LSD are highly related to serotonin. LSD is basically a “serotonin blocker,” but it’s in the cerebral chaos when the serotonin again creates synaptic “order” that we have the psychedelic experience and all of what that brings. The consumption of alcohol effectively blocks production of melatonin. Consumption of cannabis increases it.

  The third eye within us is a real, scientifically proven gland and function that is on the one hand followed by synaptic speed (a prerequisite of all cerebral activity) and on the other hand connected to visionary states of mind. Its mythological status as an all-seeing, inner eye is thereby not purely fiction but rather a preserved Ur-memory.

  There has also been research done into the relationship between the pineal gland and sexuality. There seems to be a tight connection between them. A reduced function of the gland leads to both larger genital organs and a stronger sex drive. This could indicate that visionary tribes and cultures had less sex and therefore dwindled, and perhaps also that an increased sex drive and the contemporary insane level of breeding is a contributing cause to a poorer visionary culture on a global level.

  One beautiful myth within Buddhism is the one in which the Buddha reached enlightenment under the famous Bodhi tree. The enlightenment came via sensory impressions, as he, according to the myth, was looking at the Morning Star, the planet Venus (later on associated with Lucifer), and that the brightness of the star, and the eye and brain in conjunction, brought him to an illuminated state of mind and an ensuing superconsciousness. For detail’s sake, we should add that the fruit of the Bodhi tree (Ficus religiosa) has the highest level of serotonin of all fruits on this planet.