The position of reason and the intellect has always been a tenuous one in the realms of religious and spiritual pursuits. On first appearances, the reason (excuse the pun) for this seems obvious; rational analysis has a tendency to destroy the fanciful and often self-important delusions that often accompany these pursuits. Faith-based religions, for instance, have raised the objections to reason to the level of artform, faith being wholly opposed to reason by its very nature. As humanity’s understanding of the universe increases (or, at least, appears to) it becomes all but impossible to sustain a belief in, for instance, the type of god whose existence is asserted by the Abrahamic religions, whilst simultaneously accepting the validity of logic, reason and science. Although some extraordinarily weak and risible attempts to reconcile the two have been made – most notably in the various so-called “proofs” for the existence of such a god which have been presented from time to time – the most usual refuge is the assertion that the intellect is fundamentally unsuited to analysing the phenomena associated with the domains of religion and spirituality, and that attempts to do so are therefore invalid. This enables the religious believer, the new age spiritualist, and the occultist to brush aside rational criticisms of their positions as being mistaken and irrelevant on their very first principles.

This assertion demands closer investigation. It turns out that there are two essential components to it, only one of which is visible. The first is indeed that it is futile to attempt to analyse religious or spiritual phenomena rationally, as we have stated. However, the fact that this assertion is used in order to justify continuing adherence to whatever beliefs the individual in question wishes to maintain implies a second component; that there exists some other valid method of achieving this end. This “other method” usually itself comes in two distinct forms. The first is faith. The adherent to faith-based religions fundamentally asserts that religious phenomena simply do not need to be analysed or understood in any form whatsoever, that faith justifies itself. This position often seems absolutely incredible to most rational observers. The believer asserts the existence of his god, and the mere fact that he asserts it is all the justification he requires; no amount of rational doubt applied to that belief can shake it. Yet if asked whether he is merely assuming a truth, without any interest in whether it accurately reflects reality, the believer will usually flat out deny he is doing any such thing. His god does exist, and he knows that he exists. This assertion of both fact and knowledge is completely incompatible with a position based on faith and the rejection of reason, but such contradictions matter little to the believer, since his faith is indeed the only justification he requires. If he were to confess that he is indeed simply uninterested in the actual truth of his belief, then some semblence of consistency could be discerned, but the faith-based position in its fullest form can safely be included in the category of “lunatic,” and we need not consider it any further here.

The second of the “other methods” is usually described as experience, and it is the relationship between reason and experience that will form the subject of this entry. Read the rest of this post »

Just a random but vaguely interesting point that occurred to me whilst writing this post.

We can imagine the amount of light at various times throughout the year as the function of a sine wave. From the vernal equinox to the autumnal equinox, the days are lighter than the nights, and so this portion of the year would represent that part of the sine wave which is positive, i.e. greater than zero. Between the autumnal equinox and the vernal equinox, the nights are longer than the days, so this portion of the year would represent the part of the sine wave which is negative, i.e. less than zero. For the avoidance of doubt, “less than zero” does not here mean “negative light,” but “less light than dark.”

The winter solstice – the shortest day – would represent the minimum point on that sine wave, whereas the summer solstice – the longest day – would represent the maximum point. Basic differential calculus tells us that minima and maxima are reached when the rate of change of a function passes through zero, i.e. changes from positive to negative in the case of a maximum, and from negative to positive in the case of a minimum.

Therefore the equinoxes represent those points where the function itself changes sign – the vernal equinox where it changes from negative to positive, and the autumnal equinox where it changes from positive to negative – and the solstices represent those points where the rate of change of the function or the first derivative of the function changes sign – the winter solstice where it changes from negative to positive, and the summer solstice where it changes from positive to negative.

The value of the function is positive above the x-axis, and negative below it. The rate of change of that function is negative when – following the line from left to right – it moves from a higher value to a lower value, i.e. between the summer solstice and the winter solstice. The rate of change is positive when it moves from a lower value to a higher value, i.e. between the winter solstice and the summer solstice.

Therefore each of the equinoxes and solstices represents a “zero point” or a “turning point” of one kind or another, but the turning points of the solstices are of a different order than the turning points of the equinoxes. Hence the comment in this post that “Note that the active signs of air and fire (air and fire are represented by upward pointing triangles) go with the equinoxes, and the passive signs of water and earth (water and earth are represented by downward pointing triangles) go with the solstices. That is, the active signs represent periods of change, from cold to hot in the case of fire, and from hot to cold in the case of air, whilst the passive signs represent the stable period of heat in the case of water, and the stable period of cold in the case of earth.” Technically this explanation should refer to “light and dark” rather than “cold and hot” but that is a mere technicality since most of the heat on the earth comes from the light of the Sun, even if the temperature maxima and minima lag behind those of the light. The “stable periods” in question refer to the fact that the solstices are in the middle of the positive and negative parts of the wave, respectively, and this explanation survives the fact that they too are “turning points” of a different order, relating to the rates of change of the qualities in question, rather than to the polarities of the qualities themselves.

M.H. Benders wrote:

I’ve read a good deal of the essay [The Small Cards of the Tarot – EH] last night. It’s pretty good, exact and precise. There is one thing that suddenly caught my attention and which I have been pondering over. Why is it that the fire & water trumps

From your comments below, presume you mean small cards, not trumps.

follow the natural order in regard to the descend of the element (The start of fire is the youngest sign, aries, the end of fire the oldest fire sign, Sag.) whileas with the Air & Earth trumps this natural order is not adopted? Seems strange to let Capricorn be the start of Earth and Virgo the last manifestation of it. Do you have any idea why Crowley didn’t use the natural orders? Was it because he felt that attributing peace to Gemini would be really weird (it would, definatly) and likewise attributing change to Taurus doesn’t sound like a good plan either?

It’s because in each element the cards are attributed to the signs in the cardinal-fixed-mutable order. Capricorn is the cardinal sign of earth and Libra is the cardinal sign of air, so these go with the twos, threes and fours, and likewise for the fixed (Taurus and Aquarius) and mutable (Virgo and Gemini) signs. The cardinal signs are supposed to represent the first appearance of the element, the fixed signs their establishment, and the mutable signs their fading away, so that’s the actual rationale behind ordering the small cards in that way.

The “natural order” in which they appear in the Zodiac could be an alternative way of arranging them, I suppose, but because the cardinal-fixed-mutable pattern is such an established part of the symbolism one would have to question whether there is any real significance in this order. For one thing, note that entry into the cardinal signs of fire, water, air and earth coincide with the vernal equinox, the summer solstice, and autumnal equinox and the winter solstice, respectively. Because of this, you could argue the cardinal elements do indeed represent the natural “first” signs of each element, if you measure “first” as being the beginning of each of their respective astronomical seasons, rather than in terms of the straightforward linear order of their appearance after Aries, since the four positions of the Sun have such obvious astronomical significance. Each astronomical season commences in a cardinal sign, progresses through a fixed sign, and ends with a mutable sign, although all three signs in each season belong to different elements, and the season takes its elemental attribution from the element of the cardinal sign which begins it. Read the rest of this post »

Yes, the fundamental postulates of that philosophy being the non-existence of objective moral qualities of any kind, and the natural conclusion that the “proper” course of action for any given individual is therefore that course of action which is most natural to him, as opposed to an alternative course of action which is mandated by some artificial and imaginary standard. Accordingly, the primary task of the aspiring Thelemite is to thoroughly investigate the nature of his self – and, by necessity, of his environment – in order that he may identify and remove the arbitrary restrictions which prevent him from both determining what this “most natural course” actually is and from executing it.

Imbolc heralds the arrival of spring in the traditional reckoning of the seasons. The name probably derives from associations with the first lactation of ewes, connecting it with new-born lambs and the return of new life, just as Samhain – the preceding cross-quarter day – is primarily associated with death.

We could categories three stages of life, being youth, adulthood, and old age. Most types of threefold symbolism – including this one – can ultimately be reduced to the three stages of any process, being beginning, middle and end. The triplicities of the zodiacal signs, for instance, also exhibit this symbolism, the cardinal signs signifying the beginning, the fixed signs the middle, and the mutable signs the end. Adding to this a fourth concept, death, the absence of the process, and we have a fourfold symbolism which is attributable to both the cross-quarter days and the equinoxes and solstices.

Either way, Imbolc is connected with beginnings, most obviously with the beginning of the agricultural year. The onset of spring brings with it the thawing of the frosts of winter, and the beginnings of the return of warmth, paving the way for new life. Animals emerge from hibernation, and deciduous trees begin to bud. The idea of beginnings, or birth, implies the idea of endings, or death, since something cannot begin without there first being an absence of it. Similarly, the idea of death implies the idea of life, since if the nature of existence is change, then the ending of one thing must be followed by the beginning of another.

For this reason, the Celtic goddess Brigit (later Christianised into Saint Brigit) has been termed the “goddess of increase and plenty.” The new life of spring may have appeared miraculous to our ancestors after the dark dearth of winter, and the universe may appear infinitely bountiful if even death cannot prevent the re-emergence of new life. Spring – associated as it is with birth and new life – carries with it essentially feminine connotations, the likely source of the associations with Brigit. The new born baby appears to be created by the woman from nothing, just as the plant appears to grow miraculously from the seed and the mighty oak tree from the acorn. Life seems to find a way, and the symbolism of spring includes the idea that life is as inevitable as death. Read the rest of this post »

The previous two posts in this series related to idealism and self-image. The antidote to illusion as it pertains to self-image is self-knowledge. If a false self-image is comprised of false and fanciful ideas about both the nature and preferences of the self, then a “true” self-image may reasonably be supposed to be comprised of true ideas about the nature and preferences of the self.

Such a supposition would be jumping the gun, however. Before assuming that we should be aiming to construct a more and more “accurate” self-image, we should first consider whether or not we want to maintain a self-image at all. We know that Thelema exhorts us to investigate the nature of the self so that we may discover the will – the dynamic aspect of that self – which is assumed to represent the most optimal course of action for us. To pay attention to self-image is always to pay attention to a reflection, and it would behoove us to give thought to whether such a reflection is necessary, or whether we can somehow perceive the self directly, or whether we need to perceive the self at all.

Thelema posits that the individual is prevented from obtaining self-knowledge because of restriction. Since we know that paying attention to a faulty self-image at least prevents attention from being paid to the “true” self, we can at least safely categorise a faulty self-image as just such a restriction; if, for instance, we create a self-image which downplays or represses altogether a particular characteristic of our self, then our knowledge of that self will at best be incomplete, and at worst be wholly inaccurate.

We could therefore distinguish between two possible approaches. The first would be to modify the faulty self-image into something more accurate, essentially replacing a faulty self-image with an accurate self-image. The second would be to abandon the faulty self-image, and to replace it with nothing at all. In the absence of other information, we could suppose that the second method is at least more likely to be reliable. The first method requires “fixing” an illusion, and maintaining it in a “fixed” state. Any element of that image could potentially be erroneous, and any element of that image could therefore be a restriction. Since all the elements interact, maintaining an accurate self-image would be somewhat akin to a balancing act; the smallest inaccuracy could cascade and compound itself through its connections with other elements, resulting in a very large inaccuracy. The individual would have to be constantly on his guard, and would have to expend a great deal of effort maintaining it in a “pure” state. With the second method, if we remove the faulty self-image and replace it with nothing, then we have removed altogether all the sources of error. Read the rest of this post »

The Moon reflects the light of our Sun, and when the Moon is full that reflection is at its greatest; the Moon is positioned at the opposite side of the Earth to the Sun, enabling it to reflect fully the light of the Sun back down to us.

On an individual level, the Sun represents our “true” or “real” selves, the basic components of our characters, the “centre of gravity” of our beings. It is this centre, this real nature, in conjunction with our environment that determines most fundamentally who we are, and what we ought to do.

Yet this centre is not always consciously apparent to us. Just as the Moon reflects the light of the Sun, so our conscious mind reflects this true nature to our apprehension, and this reflection can be imperfect; the mind creates a self-image.

Our entry of January 20^th discussed idealism, and we closed with the idea that “you yourself are not what you fondly imagine yourself to be.” In this entry, we will expand on that idea further, and examine more closely this concept of what we “imagine ourselves to be.”

Each person has values, and those values include ideas as to which types of character trait are important, or valuable, or undesirable. One person may value strength of will and independence, whereas another may value sensitivity and empathy. One person may place great importance on the ability to accurately analyse and assess a situation, whereas another may emphasise a more holistic, even artistic approach, where truth is less important than romance.

The relationships between these values and the most important character of all – our own selves – is complex. Many of them arise from our own being; if we ourselves are independent and strong-minded, we may naturally ascribe a degree of importance in those qualities, and see them as being desirable. Others may arise from observation; we may value the character traits exhibited by somebody we particularly admire, or respect. Read the rest of this post »

Aquarius fundamentally represents ideals. Even in popular culture, the “Age of Aquarius” is often said to herald a new era for humanity, where longstanding social problems will be able to be solved in an equitable fashion through the application of reason (Aquarius is attributed to the element of air, which contains reason and intellect amongst its correspondences). Rapid progress in the realms of culture, science and technology would appear to support this idea; we could be forgiven for believing that we are, as a society, quickly heading towards a new and enlightened state based on knowledge that our predecessors did not and could not possess.

An ideal is “a conception of something in its perfection.” It is a standard against which we compare the state of things now with how they could be in a future time. It serves as both an archetype for change (by providing a specific goal to be achieved) and as a catalyst for change (since change will not be sought unless a difference between the current and desired states is perceived). The ruler of the ascendant decan of Aquarius is Venus, and that planet is associated with desires, inner values, comparisons and judgments. In the sense that ideals are fundamentally a comparison between a perceived state and a desired state, interpreted according to individual values, then they are particularly attributable to this decan.

Idealism, on the other hand, can be defined as the “pursuit of high or noble principles,” but also as “the tendency to represent things in an ideal form, or as they might or should be rather than as they are.” It is with this latter definition that we are currently interested. This “tendency to represent things in an ideal form” has a corrupting influence on ideals themselves, and that influence can manifest in two ways: Read the rest of this post »

I have published some rough notes on the Planets in the resources section of the site, including description, correspondences and commentaries.

Erwin wrote:

I include this whole evaluative tendency under the heading of “morality,” and the moral layer of narration is probably the most pernicious of all, since if you manage to let go of the idea of what you “should” be doing, then all you really have to go on is what you are naturally inclined to do, and that’s paying attention to reality right there. For this reason I consider any religion or spiritual path whatsoever that contains a moral element to be wholly obnoxious and entirely counterproductive.

alectrum replied:

I can see where you’re coming from with this, but religious and spiritual paths are not only for philosophical thinkers that can aprehend your line of thinking. Many children and young people are educated in a religious or spiritual way, or even a non-spiritual one that emphasises moral values such as Humanism.

They certainly are. I consider such things to be wholly obnoxious and entirely counterproductive.

This education doesn’t happen by ramming religious texts down the throats of youngters but by asking them to consider and think about their actions and the actions of others through real life experiences and examples.

I don’t think it’s quite a simple as this. If it was just a question of “asking them to consider and think about their actions” then it would be one thing, but in practice that consideration is almost always a prelude to the conclusion “therefore don’t do that.” There is an underlying morality that is being pushed in such education. Read the rest of this post »