Thinking about Miasma - Also, a plug for my book.

So, it has been approximately a millennium since my last post. My apologies. During that time I've been working on a book about Iamblichean Neoplatonism. This has since been published as Living Theurgy Avalonia Books. An excuse more than anything else, but I thought I'd get the book plug out of the way.

Something I do not talk a great deal about in the book, largely because Iamblichus does not talk about it, is the concept of miasma. Miasma is important in pre-Christian Hellenic religion as it is something that separates us from the Gods. It is ritual impurity, but an impurity not associated with immortality; it is not something associated with sin, either in the various Biblical senses of the term, nor in the modern sense. That is to say, what makes miasma do its thing is not necessarily us being bad people, though being bad people, depending on how we do that, can also bring about miasma. For example, if you come in contact with a dead body, you coat yourself with miasma, whether or not you were responsible for making that body dead.

Also, everyone comes into contact with miasma. It is normal. Coming into contact with dirt, eating certain foods, sex, etc., all of these bring about miasma. Again, these are not immoral things, but they do, or can, bring about a separation between us and the divine. My question is how does this make sense from a Platonist, and especially a Neoplatonist, position?

From the perspective of late Platonism, what makes sense to me, is a relationship between miasma and the tokens, symbols, and signs of Gods. The theurgy of late antiquity shows us these tokens, etc., which are sort of like the God's thoughts of themselves, are sewn into the realm of generation. They are all around us, in plants, animal, and minerals. The heliotrope, the lion, and the rooster all contain different tokens of Helios or Apollo, for instance, with the rooster containing the most; i.e. being most like the Sun itself. When we get enough of these tokens and symbols together, and engage with and in them, we activate, as it were, the same tokens within ourselves, bringing us closer to their divine source by making us more like, or more harmonious, to that source. This may recall to us Socrates' famous "to become like God, so far as possible."

So what is miasma? I miasma is all that stuff we do and/or come in contact with, that does the opposite of what the tokens do. Added to this, it may also be engaging with token that are different from what we are trying to do. If we are trying to invoke Attis during his festival, we should not eat nuts, which are forbidden during this time. Why? Well, Attis castrates himself to cleanse himself of his inclination towards generation. It is not that eating nuts is somehow mocking the god, and thus irritating him and causing him to withdraw his blessings from us. The Gods are, after all, impassable in Platonic thought. Rather, the tokens inherent in nuts may be understood as being opposite of what we want to do. Eating nuts takes us out of harmony from the god. Attis' blessings are still there, and always are, but by being out of harmony we no longer have access to them. To further the music metaphor, we can use the idea of resonance. When two strings are tuned to the same note, but at difference octaves, one will vibrate when the other is plucked. The divine notes are always signing throughout creation, but miasma knocks us out of tune.

Maybe she's born with it, maybe it's theurgy.

I was recently asked if I thought people were born to be magicians, if it was fate, in the astrologically determined sense of the word. This, of course, got me thinking about what Iamblichus says about incarnation, which is found largely in the surviving fragments of his Peri Psyche, On the Soul.

According to Iamblichus, souls incarnate for one of three reasons. Most people are dragged into incarnation by their daimons. The souls, or their pneumatic vehicles, of such people, what would be termed the "mass herd of humanity," are so far off their path they must incarnate for further purification. The second kind of soul, what might correspond to the philosopher or theurgist, still incarnates for the purpose of purification, but there is also something of a willingness of the soul in its incarnation. It knows it needs more purification and so acquiesces to its fate. The third kind of soul is fully purified, associated with what I call the theurgic sage. Such must incarnate because that is the nature of human souls, but does so with a complete coordination of the soul with its telos. This soul is above Fate, which affects only the sub-lunar realm, and basks in divine Providence. Iamblichus says such souls incarnate in such a way that they, unlike the other kinds of souls, never identify themselves with their bodies. The body remains subject to fate, as this is part of nature, but this soul, because it has not confused itself with its body, is not.

That doesn't answer the question. We're getting there. Honest.

Every rational (i.e. human) soul is sewn into the orbit or series of a leader god, which in Iamblichean thought appear to be Zeus, Poseidon, Hephaistos, Demeter, Hera, Artemis, Apollo, Aphrodite, Hermes, Hestia, Athena, and Ares. This determines the souls' telos or purpose. Within each god are sub-domains of purpose as well, so two Hermaic souls may not have an identical telos. The gods, after all, are vast.

Souls have free will, even if not all incarnate humans do. The incarnate therugic sage has free will, even though his or her body is subject to fate. The other two kinds of incarnating souls, which identify themselves with their bodies, are under the sway of fate while incarnate. However, when in the process of incarnating the soul has free will and may choose how it will incarnate and in doing so projects a certain kind of life into incarnation. Purified souls always project a life in line with their telos. Other souls may or may not, and the more impure* they are the less likely they will project a life appropriate to themselves.

So, what does this have to do with the question? When a soul projects a life into incarnation, it projects a life that incarnates at a particular time and place, one that is, from an astrological perspective, appropriate, or necessary, to the life being projected. Astrological variations are enormous. By this I mean many different natal charts can produce similar lives. So while I do not think there is a specific "occultist natal chart," a soul projecting a life with the purpose of engaging in some sort of occult or esoteric practice will have a corresponding natal chart, even though it may, or will, be very different from a different soul projecting a similar kind of life. As there are many different kinds of occultists this makes a certain amount of sense.

From the Iamblichean perspective, a person's life, whether or not they are fated to be a magician, or a nurse, or a mortician, or any combination of any number of professions, would be found in one's natal chart.

*What constitutes purity and impurity is a whole different discussion.

Fate, Providence, and . . . Astrology?

Recently, Monsignor Scott Rassbach wrote an insightful blog post on astrology. This is not so much a response to the Monsignor's post but is somewhat inspired by it. It likely wonders around a bit, and doesn't necessarily come to any real conclusions, but you're probably used to that by now.

Fate may be, if somewhat over simplistically  defined as that which we must do, and is classically seen as being determined by one's natal horoscope and the ways in which it interacts with the movements of the stars and planets after birth. It is the organizing principle set forth over the realm of generation by all superior organizing principles, from the One down. Providence, on the other hand, is the free divine giving that is over and above Fate. In short, Fate determines, Providence sets free.

The late Platonists hold an interesting view of the relationship between Fate and Providence. Iamblichus, in particular, writesthat Fate and Providence were the same thing. The problem lies not in Fate, or the stars or evil archons but with us and, more specifically, our perspective. Taking this into consideration we might say Fate is Providence seen from below.

How does that work? The late Platonists have a fairly robust view of free will, but one that applies to the soul more than the incarnate life that soul may project. Souls may freely choose whatever life they project, even if it is not "proper" to them, running outside the lines of the soul's immutable and divine essence. Iamblichus and Proclus give various examples of it, such as a Solar soul projecting a Mercurial life. To complicate things, a soul can project a proper life but one that will have improper activities, such as a Solar soul engaging in a Solar life but having Lunar activities. Their examples are much better than mine, this is just my sneaky way of trying to get you to read them.

Why does a soul do this? Typically, the answer is because the soul is "impure." In Neoplatonic terms this means that through the soul's necessary with matter, it has come to identify itself as material and hulic accretions have formed around the soul's pneumatic vehicle, the soul's interface between material and spiritual realms. This, in turn, prevents the souls from participating the divine Intellect and knowing itself. So, not knowing itself, the soul makes unhealthy decisions. And that makes things worse.

What does this have to do with Providence and astrology? Here's the interesting implication about the soul's free will and ability to project a particular kind of life. Not only can it do this, it does so in a particular way. In terms of classical thought, which sees life as being determined by the stars and the gods whose bodies they are, in order for a particular life to happen, it must be born as a particular time and place, and this is what the soul does. If the soul has projected an inappropriate life that is reflected in the person's horoscope. In effect, the soul has sealed the fate of this life by projecting it as it has. That life is organized as nature and Fate dictate based on the rules Fate itself has to follow, and it typically does not turn out completely awesome as the soul is attempting to fit itself into a whole shaped for another.

But a soul can also choose to project a life in accord with its essence and "leader god." The mechanics are the same and that life is locked into its Fate, but that Fate is one absolutely in line with the soul's overall purpose and essence, it's telos. The soul that regularly does this is the purified soul, one engaging in demiurgy and following its leader god. It understands its place in the grand scheme of things and willfully goes along with it, not only for its own sake, but for the sake of others. This becomes not a life of dictated Fate, but of divine Providence, wherein the soul, and its projected life, participate more intimately with the divine benefits while it engages in shared rulership of the realm of generation.

The role of astrology is interesting in all this. While astrology may be used to predict some things, and the later Neoplatonists were somewhat dubious as to its overall effectiveness as a human form of divination, the idea of needing to transcend one's horoscope is now called into question, or at least requires careful consideration. We might argue this is exactly what material theurgy is about. Through this kind of theurgy we come in contact with our leader gods through having purified our souls, coming in contact with our personal daimons and making ourselves more like how we really are, which in turn allows us to better participate Providence.

But escape Fate? Not necessarily during this lifetime. From the Platonist's perspective the movement of the stars, cannot be changed, and should not even if it could. But we can change our relationship to them and how we view what happens in our life. This doesn't so much change Fate and it changes us. The pure soul does not escape Fate either, mind you, but has set it in motion to its benefit, transforming Fate into Providence by a proper choice of projected life. But that's what we've been saying from the start. Fate and Providence are a matter of perspective. This doesn't magically make a crappy life wonderful, but it does perhaps set our understanding of it in place, and sometimes that can make all the difference.

Agalmata Empsychon

I am currently in the process of writing a chapter on the agalma empsychon, or ensouled statue, in Living Theurgy. Having gotten beyond the Hermetica's descriptions of wonder working, sometimes actually moving statues to the late Platonic views, I have come to find these a rather fascinating idea. In the chapter I connect this to the use of icons (eikons) in Orthodox Christianity, which itself is interesting. But to me, the most interesting aspect of the subject is the connections to, and differences from, the way the gods and other greater kinds ensoul their bodies in relation to how humans do so, and what this suggests about the human body, Platonically speaking at least.

Iamblichus establishes, throughout the course of De mysteriis Aegyptiorum the relationship between the greater kind; the gods, angels, daimones and heroes, and their bodies. Speaking especially about the material gods, whose bodies are seen as the seven ancient planets, Iamblichus tells us they rules their bodies from without and do not, unlike us, become identified with the matter so associated with them. This has some significant ramifications in terms of ensouled statues. The most important of these is that the god does not, ever, reside within the statue. The late Platonists of the Athenian school seemed to have found this important to stress this, and we find it mentioned, in various ways, but a number of them. The statues are not gods. They are not divine in and of themselves. Even though the statues are filled with the signs and tokens of the gods, they are not themselves the gods.

But what about human souls and bodies? In the Timaeus the universe is described as an agalma of the World-soul and made as a home for the eternal gods. Agalma can mean shrine as well as statue, and the idea seems to be that the cosmos is a body for the world soul. The World-soul is, in turn, an image of Nous, which is an image of Aion, which is an image of noting, because the One doesn't have an form from which to make an image. The human souls are products of the World-soul, and are embodied in a physical form just as is the World-soul. This suggests that the body is itself an agalma to soul, just like a cult statue can be a body for a god.

Except, of course, we're not gods. That's not to say we're not divine. Even as the least of the greater kind, human souls are still divine. But we're not gods. The gods control their bodies from without, we enter within our bodies. The gods do not identify themselves with their bodies, we forget our unembodied nature. What affects the body of a god leave the god untouched, we feel every pain the body has to offer. The gods are fully immortal, the embodiment of the human soul makes that which is immortal mortal and that which is mortal immortal. We are not gods, but we are god-like, formed in their image and likeness. And, through realizing the divine in a statue of their tokens and symbols, we likewise realize our own divinity.

The consecration of a statue is likewise a consecration of us and by sacralizing a body we remember not only the heavenly realm but our place within it.

Aion and Neoplatonic Psychology, Part II

In the last post we talked a little about the concept of Eternity in Iamblichus.¹ In this post we will look at the relationship between the soul and moments of Eternity.

As we talked about in the previous post, the nature of the human soul is divided; it inclines simultaneously towards the divine realm and the realm of generation, belonging in both at once. The divided essence of the human soul is both a problem and not a problem. It is a problem in that it leads to a disassociation of one part or power of the soul with the other. This, in turn, limits, and potentially perverts, the activity of the soul while incarnate. It is not a problem in that the division cannot, and is not meant to be, fixed. To be a mean between the divine realm and the realm of generation is part of the human soul's very essence and nature. Changing this would make the soul no longer human. In the ontological hierarchy of Neoplatonism, this is impossible: a thing is always that which it is, even if it doesn't always remember what its nature.

It is this forgetting of the nature of the human soul, as described in the allegory of the Chariot in Plato's Phaedrus (246a - 254e), that is the real problem. Because the human soul, almost uniquely of all divine beings, forgets itself, looses track of it's essence as it were, a solution to this problem, not that of a divided essence, is necessary  From the perspective of Iamblichus and the later Neoplatonists, the solution to this problem is the engagement of philosophy and theurgy. But what we am interested in here is the underlying process that these practices set in motion, and that is what will lead to the three moments of Aionic time.

Briefly, the three Aionic moments are the "unparticipated," the "participated" and the "in participation." Sets of three are very common in Platonism, and especially in Neoplatonism. For instance, Iamblichus said there were three kinds of human souls, those who entered generation for the sake of saving other souls, those that are dragged into generation by their daimons for punishment and purification, and a mean that is somewhat purified but still is forced into generation rather than going entirely on their own. Of these three, is it only the first, represented by the theurgic sage, that has mastery over all three moments of its soul. The theurgic sage knows him or herself as they really are in the unparticipated moment of their soul. The rest of us are not so fortunate.

In a manner of speaking, we may say that our own soul exists to us through the three moments. This is because, having forgotten ourselves, our soul is, in effect, an external being. This is why we can speak of the three moments in relation to our own soul. For the theurgic sage this is irrelevant, the soul and incarnated personality are one,² the soul does not appear external to the sage and the idea of participating in one's own soul is effectively as ridiculous to the sage as it seems like it should be. But for those of us who are not one with our souls, things seem very different. Being divided, and unaware of our other half, we, in effect, must participate in our own souls.

At best, however, many people, perhaps the majority of people, do not participate in their souls at all but are instead completely ignorant of them. Know thyself! However, we can, through a philosophical life, and theurgic practice, change this. Through this kind of practice we can begin to know our souls, and this is how we can move from ignorance of our own true natures to begin to participate in our own souls.

The beginning of this is to know our souls at the level of "in participation." At this moment the soul begins to manifest itself through us. There are degrees to us, dependent upon how much we have assimilated ourselves to what we really our, i.e. our soul. At this moment, however, our knowledge of our soul comes through its activity as we experience it in the world. It is a kind of second-hand knowledge, requiring discursive reasoning to understand, which is to say we there is no gnosis of the soul in this moment.

The second moment is that of the participated soul. Here we begin to experience our souls not as they are in and of themselves but as they may be known by ontologically posterior entities. This moment is not an experience of the soul qua the soul. Instead it is as though we have come to know the soul as we may come to know other people. We have a relationship with the soul, and knowledge of the soul, that is more than experiencing its activity in the world. But just as any knowledge we have of another person is always limited and distorted, so too is our knowledge of our souls at this moment. We have an image of the soul, but not the soul itself.

The final moment is that of the unparticipated soul. At this moment we have assimilated ourselves to our true natures to such an extent that real gnosis of the soul occurs. Gnosis is not discursive reasoning; one does not need to think and put together information. Gnosis is the intuitive knowledge of the subject. The theurgic sage at the unparticipated moment of their soul is their soul. At this point the language of division, of speaking of the sage and the soul, is for our convenience. The sage has no need of it for the sage is the fullness of their soul and from this perspective the other moments collapse upon themselves and are gone. The second and third moment are for ontologically prior entities, beings that must participate in a superior being for what it lacks. The theurgic sage, as rare as they are, lacks nothing of their own soul.

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1] The corollary of Transcendent Time found in the psychic realm, which orders mundane time in the realm of generation, is quite interesting, and worth exploring, but will not be an important part of this post.

2] Maybe. It is possible that the soul forgets itself to a certain extent with each incarnation. However, due to the purity of the soul, and guidance from its daimon, the soul of a theurgic sage may easily remember itself during each incarnation.

Tikkun Olam

Recently, a brief discussion of tikkun olam occurred on an online Gnostic group that I frequently read but rarely reply to. As I was not part of the original conversation I refrained from discussing specific questions that were addressed to someone else. That's only polite, right? I do have some thoughts on the subject however, and as I haven't blathered on about kabbalah for a while it might be time for a change of topic.

Tikkun olam is usually translated as the World of Rectification. Olam is an interested word. It certainly can mean world, but can also mean eternity and may be definitionally, though not etymologically, related to the Greek word "kosmos" in its Neoplatonic sense. Tikkun means rectification, which is to say to restore something to its proper condition. To fix it so it was the way it used to be.

The idea pre-dates kabbalah and is directly related to Jewish messianic thought. While pre-kabbalah in nature, it is still a part of kabbalistic tradition, found in the Zohar and heavily developed by both R. Moshe Cordovero (the Ramak) and R. Titzchak Luria (the Ari) and has so become an exceedingly important element of kabbalistic thought and practice.

Generally speaking, we may talk about tikkun olam as a goal and tikkun a the process for achieving that goal. But what is tikkun olam, the rectified world? That is a difficult question to answer, and Jewish thought varies, typically along two lines, either physical or spiritual, or, of course, both. In either case, tikkun olam might be thought of as an equivalent to the Christian idea(s) of the Kingdom of Heaven/God as well as the kabbalistic idea of the World to Come.

So, some kabbalistic background: The Zohar introduces an idea, a myth, about the creation of the world (olam) through a process involving too much Gevurah. The problem isn't that creation occurred through Gevurah, almost all creation in the Zohar comes through the Gevuric process. The problem was the amount of Gevurah involved. The great and terrible force of Pachad shattered the vessels made to contain the divine light and everything below a certain level fell, resulting in the development of the physical realm, which wasn't necessarily supposed to happen. (This is a difficult issue in and of itself. God, being perfect and all knowing, would have known this would be the result of the action, so presumably the physical realm was intended, but it could not, should not, have been part of the process of emanation, it had to be created instead).

Tikkun is the process of picking up the shattered pieces, the kellipot or shells, and putting their contents, bits of divine light, back where they belong. In the Zohar the kellipot are demonic beings, or even beings at all, but appear as coverings for the bits of divine light in the physical and sub-physical realms, distorting the perfect light in a way not dissimilar to the later Neoplatonic idea of hyle and its affect on the vehicle of the soul.

The personified evil forces in Zoharic thought are not described or called kellipot but are instead the forces of the "Left-Hand Side," Samael and the Evil Inclination and their ilk. Even they are not evil in the classical, opposite of good, way. When properly directed the Evil Inclination is the source of artistic creativity and the drive towards procreation and Samael punctures the over-inflated egos of the faux-righteous. In kabbalistic thought evil is as complex and necessary as good. It is only when evil, or good for that matter, is improperly directed that problems occur. (Compare this with Pseudo-Dionysius' writings on the subject of Evil, which are derived from Proclus and Plotinus).

So, how do we go about practicing tikkun, the ultimate form of kabbalistic theurgy? That is, of course, complicated. One method is largely mundane: be a good person and do good things. An orthodox Jewish conception of this is to follow the commandants of Torah. Kabbalistically, the answer is essentially the same, except the mitzvot, commandants, are understood to have not only earthly ramifications, but entirely metaphysical ones as well, ones that affect not only soul, something found in less mystical interpretations of Rabbinic law, but also the entire spiritual structure of creation.

Beyond this, Jewish mysticism has a long-standing form of meditation known as hitbodedut (see, for example, http://jwmt.org/v2n20/hitbodedut.html, see especially the section on hitbodedut and tikkun!), which appears to have its roots in merkavah mysticism, but was also influenced by Sufism. Hitbodedut involves the mental, and presumably spiritual, manipulation of the letters of the Hebrew alefbet. The alefbet is considered to not simply represent, but to spiritually BE the divine forces God used to create. By manipulating the letters, reality can also be altered. Hitbodedut is a theurgic process, perhaps similar to the Neoplatonist Iamblichus' idea of hieratic prayer, which involves the use of "nonsense" sounds that have meaning not to us but to the gods.

I'm not really going anywhere with this, mostly thinking aloud. That being said, the ideological connections between Neoplatonic theurgy and kabbalistic tikkun should be clear. Both are an engagement with the spiritual realm for the purpose of moving the physical realm towards its divine purpose. In doing this not only is the physical realm rectified to the divine plan (or whatever), but so is the individual soul, which is, after all, a microcosm of the macrocosm.

As I am involved in the development of an ecumenical, Neoplatonic gathering (Ekkelsia) that, amongst other things, will focus on a kind of liturgical theurgy, there might be more to say on the subject. But that will have to wait.

On the Mystical Expeirence

Iamblichus, in his discussion of theurgy in De Mysteriis, talks about three different kinds of theurgic practice, each fitting for different kinds of people. The first level is the physical theurgy, or theurgic rituals using physical symbols for an anagogic purpose. The third level is non-physical theurgy, the theuryg of silence, that uses nothing physical as its purpose to contact the hypercosmic gods or divine thoughts. There is, of course, a median, one that combines, in varying ways, material and non-material theurgy and works as a transition from the lowest level to the highest. There is, I think, a direct connection between these modes of theurgic praxis and mysticism.

Typically, when one thinks of a "mystical experience," we think of the epiphanal moment. The blinding flash of light that changes everything. A review of the lives of various mystics demonstrates that such things do happen, but that they are also not what defines their lives or experiences as mystics. I suggest that, much as there are three modes of theurgic practice, there are three modes of mystical experience. Further, just as each mode has its proper time and place, so do the varieties of mystical experience. Finally, I suggest that each mode/experience is of equal importance within the context they occur.

One of the difficulties of discussing mystical experiences is the language which we use. English, for example, is an excellent quantitative language. It is somewhat horrific when it comes to the qualitative. The use of the word "experience" is an example. Part of what I will discuss as a "mystical experience" will bare almost no relation to what is commonly understood by an "experience." It is simply the only word I have to use.

The first kind of mystical experience correlates well to material theurgy. We might even call it "material mysticism," but that sounds less than poetic, so how about everyday mysticism? Or, if we want to engage a little more in a mystical style of language, "mundane mysticism," which is nicely contradictory. In De Mysteriis, Iamblichus discusses what are called symbolon (symbols), sunthemata (tokens or signatures), and a host of other things. These signatures are imprinted directly into physical reality by the gods and Demiurgos so that we may use them to go back to the gods and, ultimately, the One. The tokens are the means through which theurgy work because the tokens are objective divine symbols, not subjective human symbols. And they are everywhere and we can learn to see them and understand them for what they are. Through this way of thinking about the cosmos we can bring ourselves closer to the purposes of creation and the forces that are behind it, which is, ultimately, God. It is the beginning of the theurgy and demiurgy. But it is physical and so, though based on non-physical, divine and objective reality, subject to our subjective experiences and discursive reasoning. So, mundane mysticism is both objective and subjective, just as material theurgy is, as it a human performance of divine rites.

What is most interesting about mundane mysticism is that, first, it is learnable. We can learn to see the divine signatures and engage in them as diving signatures, not simply natural or scriptural phenomena. Second, an ephiphanal experience is not necessary to do this. Finally, reading the autobiographies of mystics suggests they spend most of their time in this objective/subjective mode. This mode is spiral in form. It is circular in that the mundane mystical experience informs the everyday life of the mystic, but is also informed by that everyday life. They are dependent upon one another. But this mode is not simply circular. The continued mundane mystical experience moves our interpretation and lives not so much forward as upward, closer to the divine. Our interpretations refine the experience and the experience enriches the interpretation and the spirit is moved.

The third mode (I'll keep to traditional Iamblichean writing style here and discuss the extremes before the median) is more difficult. It does not consist of an experience, per se, because experiences require bodies and minds and thoughts and this mode goes beyond that. It is henosis, union with the divine. The divine, however, at least within Neoplatonism, and within classical Gnosticism, exists beyond the level of Nous, Intellect (please insert here a lengthy discussion on the intelligible triad of Being/Life/Intellect common to Neoplatonism and at least Sethian Gnosticism that is otherwise off topic). By Nous I mean the divine mind or intellect, which is the lowest part of the mental world. Above it are the Platonic forms, the gods (or Aeons in Gnostic terminology), the pre-essential Demiurgos (in the Neoplatonic sense) and then the Good/One (i.e., God).

Henosis is a hyper-intellectual "experience." Yes, there's that word, "experience." Henosis isn't experience, per se, as it exists beyond the thing we usually mean when we talk about having those experiences. Henosis occurs beyond the soul (which is a product of Nous) and beyond even the divine intellect, occurring at the level of divine ideas . . . which is a little strange. How do ideas exist prior to the mind? Plato held that the contents of the mind pre-exist the thinking of them: our minds are not blank slates and learning is in fact remembering (this took me some time to understand, as Plato says the second part but doesn't really directly say the first). This level of the noetic realm reflects that ideology. The divine thoughts, the gods or Aeons, exist before the mind that experiences them. When henosis occurs it does so outside of time and space and material reality and, ultimately, we, the subjective human creature, may be entirely unaware of it occurring.*

The second kind of mystical experience is perhaps closer to what we generally think of when we hear the word "mysticism." This is the ecstatic moment, the ephiphany, the ah ha! But remember, this is a median mode. This is what we might call theosis, becoming god-like. Neoplatonically, we might say this level corresponds to a kind of union with the material gods, symbolized by the seven classical planets, but existing far beyond them. It can even include the soul's union with its source, Nous and a glimpsing of the the noetic realm or pleroma. It is a combination of gnosis on the one hand, and an dealing with that gnosis in the phsycial realm on the other. Gnosis might be liked to a complete, intuitive knowing. Gnosis, like henosis has its origins beyond the intellect. It does not require thought or discursive reasoning. It is simply knowing. But because it is experiential, because the conscious human being in a material body can have gnosis, maybe we should think of gnosis as a byproduct of henosis or its experiential component that falls to the level of Intellect, if not intellect.

But gnosis must be put into context. By "must" I mean we, as discursive creatures, do this, do it automatically and without necessarily realizing we are doing so (which, admittedly, is a poor use of one's discursive ability, a give from the Demiurgos, but that's a different post). We employ our moments of gnosis in practical and material ways. Our life experiences put help us put it in context and so make it "useful." When we read the writings of a mystic, even something like the difficult poetry of Rumi, this is what we're reading. It is an attempt to keep the gnosis as gnosis-like as possible while simultaneously attempting to come to terms with that gnosis in a way that makes sense. It is an attempt to understand the Universal in the mode of the particular.

Though the highest* form of mystical experience or mode of theurgy is the rarest, in some ways the median level is the most difficult. The highest mode is utterly ineffable. Not only is there no need to discuss it, there is no way to discuss it. But the median mode is with us, it is extreme, ecstatic and not only can be dealt with, it must be. This experience changes our lives even while being informed by our lives. By placing it in the genre of the particular the universal becomes understandable. But how the Universal comes to be understood is at least somewhat dependent upon who we are, where we live, how we grew up, i.e. our personal background. In order to mitigate this some mystical schools develop teachings to make sure everything moves in, what is for them, the right direction. Sufism created the doctrine of makamat, "spiritual stations," for this reason.

The key to surviving this, in my own humble estimation, is recourse to mundane mysticism, the most basic form of mystical endeavor, and so the foundation of an overall mystical praxis. And this is precisely what mystics in the past appear to have done.


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*I fully understand that I am presenting mysticism and mystical modes in a very particular, largely Western, chronology, suggesting an ontological superiority of henosis over gnosis over mundane mysticism. I also fully understand that this reflect my personal experiences and Western, Neoplatonic and Kabbalistic background and is not meant to reflect a Truth or a Zaehnerian approach to mysticism.

On Initiation. Again. Also, on Worlds and Such.

This subject seems to come up a lot. One might begin to think it's important or something. I won't go into the "initiation means 'beginning'" thing again (wait, I just did, never mind). Instead I want to look at the idea of various spiritual worlds and their relationship, if any, to esoteric initiation. The general reference here is this blog post: http://gyllenegryningen.blogspot.com/2010/04/o-there-has-been-interesting-discussion.html. To be clear, the following should not be construed as a reply to this, even though I may touch on some subjects that are also in the above post. The following should also not be construed as entering into a dialogue about what theory of initiation is correct, a discussion I am supremely disinterested in. Rather, this was simply brought to my attention lately and I felt like posting something on the subject.

We good? Good.

I am attempting to look at the initiatory process from two related but different perspectives, that of Neoplatonism and that of a five-world kabbalistic model.

Typically, Neoplatonism, following Plato and especially, but not only, the Republic, divides reality into three levels. These are the world of images, the world of reason and the world of forms, which are coupled with the sub-lunar realm, the celestial realm and the super-celestial realm (and yes, there are more terms, like encosmic and hypercosmic worlds, etc., but they all refer to the same thing). We live down here in the world of images. Much as a photograph of a person is not the same as the person, that which we experience in the world of images is but a shadow of the true reality emanating from the world of forms. The next world up is the place of necessities (like a triangle having three sides, regardless of there ever having been a physical triangle) and the world upon which everything below is based. That's the short version, anyway.

R. Yitzchak Luria developed a five-world model of creation in his kabbalah (which was derived from the somewhat more common four-world model). The worlds are those of Asyiah (Action), Yetzirah (Formation), Beriah (Creation), Atzilut (Nearness or Emanation) and Adam Kodmon (The Ancient/Holy Human). For Luria, creation actually occurs below Asyiah, surrounded by the remnants of the Breaking of the Vessels, at least sometimes. BotV is an important concept in Lurianic and post-Lurianic kabbalah. Derived from the Zohar, this idea says that while emanating something went wrong and the vessels made to hold the divine essence shattered. Interestingly, everything below Atzilut (and sometimes even Atzilut itself) fell when this happened, each world sinking down a metaphysical level, with the exception of Adam Kodmon (and maybe Atzilut, or the supernal part of Atzilut).

Now, though kabbalah has, repeatedly, been demonstrated to have significant roots in Neoplatonism, and while there are similarities between the three NP worlds and the five kabbalistic worlds, they aren't exactly the same. At best one might make the following connections:

World of Forms - Olam Adam Kodmon/Olam Atzilut
World of Reason - Olam Beriah
World of Images - Olam Yetzirah/Olam Asyiah (and creation below)

So, the question, apparently, is how does, or at least how can, esoteric initiation link into these?

The short answer is "In a lot of different ways." I'm not interested in the "which is the 'right' way?" discussion, remember? Here are simply some of my ill formed thoughts on some ways in which this might work.

Iamblichus, in his De Mysterii talks about three different kinds of people: those whose theurgy must function on the physical level, those whose theurgy is silent and purely nonphysical and those in between. This is a mobile hierarchy; though there are (A LOT) more people on the bottom (physical theurgy) than the top (nonphysical theurgy), over time (as in over lifetimes, classical Neoplatonism was pro-reincarnation) and continued theurgic praxis, one would spiritually advance from one level to another. The implication is that each kind of theurgic practice is associated with one of three Platonic worlds. Iamblichus also posits that there are three Demiurgoi, one for each world. As theurgy is demiurgery, this makes perfect sense.

In Lurianic and post-Lurianic kabbalah the five-world model becomes greatly expanded. Ideology behind each of the five kabbalistic souls (nefesh, ruach, neshamah, chiah and yechidah) become enlarged. Originally they were connected to either specific sefirot or specific worlds, now they are connected to both: each world has its specific soul and each soul is divided into five parts. So, Olam Asyiah contains the nefesh and the nefesh is composed of a nefesh of nefesh, a ruach of nefesh, a neshamah of nefesh, a chiah of nefesh and a yechidah of nefesh. This continues on up the Tree of Life through to a yechidah of yechidah. Everyone starts out at the same place, with none of the above (in Lurianic kabbalah, other kabbalists would say we start with a nefesh and nothing else). We must earn each level of the soul through correct conduct and, presumably, through practices such as hitbodedut. Before a ruach can be acquired the complete nefesh must be attained and perfected.

As you might imagine, there are more people on the bottom of this mobile hierarchy than the top. Further, some of these souls are considered to be embedded in us, as it were, while the chiah and yechidah were never part of incarnation, shining down upon us and influencing us indirectly, as it were, and are not directly accessible via normal human consciousness. Sound familiar?

Transferring this ideology to an initiatory scheme provides us with some interesting ideas, I think. First, it suggests that as initiation rituals are rituals they largely function on the first Neoplatonic level, corresponding to Asyiah and Yetzirah. Initiation rituals, like all rituals, are massively multi-sensual experiences. There are smells and sounds and colors and shapes and tastes and touches all put together in various ways to have various affects on the candidate. There are invisible things as well, working on the etheric and astral levels (both of which would be part of the world of images), designed for the higher senses to partake of.

So, which world do they work on? That is going to depend on the ritual. Presumably, initial initiation rituals, those that bring a person into an a group or an "outer order" (or equivalent) would function largely on the level of Asyiah. A soul cannot progress to the ruach until it has completed the nefesh. So the real question might be when does a an initiatory schema move from one level to the next (this appears to be one of the main topics discussed in the above blog post)? This is an excellent question and one which I cannot answer for any other system of initiation. The point is that it is theoretically possible for a system of initiations to move from one level to the next.

Is it likely? I'm not sure, but I don't think so. The work of building the nefesh alone is the world of a life time. Further, a person on level one cannot, even through the might and majesty of initiation, raise someone to a level higher than themselves. Such a person would have no recourse to said higher level, but they could help raise someone to the same level as they are. This is one why Adepts perform initiations and Novices don't. It is, I suppose, possible for an Adept to be functioning at the level of ruach. In fact, I imagine that a fully trained Adept should be functioning at that level. So, theoretically, an initiation to Adept level by qualified adepts could help accomplish this. Maybe. Here's what I see happening:

An Adept may very well be functioning at the level of the ruach. Just. That "just" part is important. It implies that the fully functioning Adept (henceforth simply the Adept, the rest is a finger-full!) has mastery over the nefesh and the level of reality associated with it's demiurgos. Such a person can initiate into that world; they are it's master (theurgically speaking). But could they initiate into the next level, one of which they are only a novice (nefesh of ruach)? I don't think so; their mastery of that level is lacking.


The initiatory job of the Adept is to help raise candidates through the levels of the nefesh. Initiation doesn't do that alone, of course; there is a substantial amount of Work on the candidate's part involved. The pinnacle of the initiatory system is not, however, some super-evolved soul. You are not going to be functioning on the level of the neshamah through initiation, sorry. That's on a level that requires more than functioning on the world of images, remember? Chiah or yechidah? Straight out. Rather, the pinnacle is getting the Adept working on the level of the ruach and letting the ruach and it's associated daimon guide the Adept from there. Initiation brings them through the lowest level and their own work takes them through the cusp to the next.

Those, at any rate, are my thoughts on the subject.

Wealth and Poverty

I went to the Tenebrae service and mass at the parish of St. Michael the Archangel, of the AJC. No, I'm not a Gnostic, or a Christian for that matter, but they are my friends and brothers and sisters. One of the readings touched on the nature of Christ as servant, which lead me to thoughts of the nature of Malkhut and it's relationship to the rest of the sefirot.

Malkhut is called "poor" (Heb: dal, associated with the letter dalet) because though it receives, it but does not give. This is because there is nothing beneath it to give to, such is the nature of this culminating emanation. Humanity shares this nature with Malkhut. Just as Shekhinah cannot emanate, neither does humanity. At best we can create, and much of what we create becomes a kind of idolatry as we become infatuated with the things of our own making. Magically speaking, the Neoplatonist Iamblichus called this the thaumaturgy of phantasms.

But Torah tells us that humanity was created in the image of the Eternal, and after the Eternal's likeness. Within many of us, and this is in no way limited to those called to practice the theurgic art, is a longing to imitate the Eternal. This sympathia is the heart of theurgy and kabbalah. And so, in our own ways, we attempt to rise above our place in Malkhut, because although we live here, it is not the sole place of our residence.

All of which brings me back to the Tenebrae service, where many of those gathered did so not only in homage to Christ, but also in an attempt to imitate him. That wasn't me. Rather it caused me to reflect on my own actions and life. When I was younger my main pursuit was that of wealth. I have but recently noticed that this has not been my goal for some time now. One might argue that the majority of my education has moved in a direction more or less guaranteeing I shall never be wealthy. I can live with that.

But what am I doing, exactly? I am creating things. Art, to be specific. I paint and I write and occasionally I make some jewelery. I am especially interested in the creation of eikons and their relationship to theurgic symbolon or tokens. And what do I do with most of this? For the most part I give them away to friends.

I hadn't even noticed it, let alone thought about why. That's what occurred this last weekend. I not only saw it, but began to understand it. It is my small way of emulating the Emanator, Who gives all but receives nothing, for there is nothing the Eternal does not already have. Despite my place in Malkhut, receiving from the Divine with nothing to give in return, that is my little piece of tikkun, my bit of demiurgy.

Or at least it's an excuse as to why I'm usually broke.

Invocation

Iablichus of Chalcis on theurgic invocation:

But not even in the case of the invocations is it through the experiencing of passion that they link the priests to the gods; it is rather in virtue of the divine love which holds together all things that they provide a union of indissoluble involvement - not, as the name seems immediately to imply, inclining the mind of the gods to humans, but rather, as the truth of things itself desires to teach us, disposing the human mind to participation in the gods, leading it up to the gods and bringing it into accord with them through harmonious persuasion. And it is for this reason, indeed, that the sacred names of the gods and the other types of divine symbol that have the capacity of raising us up to the gods are enabled to link us to them.

From De Mysteriis; trans by Emma C. Clark, John M. Dillion and Jackson P. Hershbell.

Thaumaturgy and Theurgy

I'm hoping that getting this on here will also mean that I get to sleep sometime sooner than an hour from now.

A thaumaturge is like Michelangelo below, painting an image on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. A theurgos is above, painting an image in the mind of Michelangelo to be painted on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.