- Joined
- Nov 4, 2023
- Messages
- 410
- Reaction score
- 1,709
- Awards
- 16
In the early days, I never understood why most of the elders of the Western Left Hand Path eventually "abandoned ship" and moved into some strata of, what I would have then called, "the Right Hand Path". Shortly after I first found my way to the threshold, the Schrecks began their on-going journey into Buddhism, taking much of the Temple of Set with them. By then, Myatt had long been a Muslim, disavowing all other methods of change, telling would-be diabolists to turn to Allah. Aquino always maintained a spry "it was fun while it lasted" approach to his time with LaVey, but his own philosophy had moved far, far beyond "Satanism" and deeply into Plato, Gurdjieff and the de Lubiczs' theories on Egypt. LaVey was dead and, by most accounts (that is, those other than Peter Gilmore's), he died embittered and broke (not something most of us would knock a man for but which LaVey certainly would), a Norma Desmond-esque figure surrounded by relics of his glory days, unwilling to adapt to a world that had changed. Of the major public figures associated with the LHP, LaVey was the only one to maintain into old age the same essential worldview he had held at thirty.
Among non-public initiates, the turnover was even worse. Granted, a large number were neophytes who got scared and "repented", but there were as many in late stages of their work who left for pastures new. Interestingly, I do not recall any of these moving towards atheism or materialism. The pull was always towards some iteration of RHP religion, usually Buddhism, though Christianity and Islam were common destinations too. When this wasn’t a “backslide into orthodoxy,” I assumed it was motivated by something so personal as to be basically unintelligible to others — a common feature among serious magicians of every stripe. The thought never occurred to me that such a move might actually be the fulfilment of advanced LHP work. As time passed, I came to see that this was precisely the case.
For me, the methods I used were excellent at feeding desire. This is no small thing. If desire is strong enough, it can fuel fixed Will and Will, properly directed, can propel a person from a one of life's wrecks to someone respected in every room they walk in ("from tragic to magic"). This is appealing when one has unjustly lacked worldly success, been inhibited, or simply been given too little to fulfil their nature (and there are more than a few of us Leonine types around).
In these LHP locales, the "world"/society was taught to be a kind of proving ground for the magician, a test-of-strength which ensured that what one was working on had real-world application, avoiding the historical tendency of magicians to drift into their own subjective universe ("Impressive that you had an 'experience' invoking Raziel under Mercury but you can't pay your bills Ryan!"). Both of my LHP schools would expel those who were not achieving sufficiently in the wider world. As consciousness crystallised, one’s ability to master oneself naturally developed the qualities likely to lead to greater worldly power — commanding money, valuable skills, or trust from others. It's interesting that, despite the myth of Faust, much of LHP worldly advancement is actually about increasing responsibility ("responsibility to the responsible") rather than overnight fame or lottery wins.
In my case, because the suppressed energy that had accumulated throughout childhood and into my teens was so intense, the desire so impossibly enormous, when it met the LHP the result was explosive, especially for the first five or six years. By the time that orgy of being was over, the first of the LHP’s advanced lessons arrived: fulfilling desires increases the strength of desire, but the means that once fulfilled desire loses power. This is not dissimilar to a meth addict whose craving grows as the drug’s ability to satisfy diminishes. This raised troubling metaphysical questions: "Why can the world not fulfil us?" The deeper currents of the LHP offered an answer — consciousness is “non-natural,” and therefore indulgence in the world will never suffice. Where conventional religions teach that the world cannot fulfil the soul and counsel restraint so as to not amplify desire, the deep LHP taught to accept that the desire will not be resolved — that it will grow — and that the agony can become fuel for mastery. In the quiet corners of the LHP, there is a name for one who embodies this condition of unmet yearning as fuel for mastery: the Vampyre.
I lived as a Vampyre for so long, explored its facets in so many lights, that its oldest expressions became more and more the focus of my Work — for the states of consciousness behind the Vampyre were known with near-scientific precision in other times and places, when the European vampire was a still a dirty revenant rather than a beautiful creature of longing and the Western LHP did not yet exist. An encounter with Sufism, the school of yearning, was fated. In the words of Rumi and Ibn ʿArabi, in the figure of the Sufi, I saw the Vampyre again: burning with longing and desire, but with greater control and greater mastery in the alchemy that turns yearning into ascent. I saw one who could taste the ecstasies of the world and come away not jaded by what they could not give, but refreshed by what they reminded the soul of — one who did not feed from life in a panic to stave off death, but who embraced death to fully immerse in Life.
The change from blood to wine did not come easily. The energy loops that had long accumulated had to burn away. The addiction to mythos, to my own story, had to collapse. I wish I could say this was voluntary. In truth, I had played at the edges of Sufism for so long that it played back with me, bringing about a kind of inner collapse, as if to say: “You want Forever lion cub? Then you must truly die — die in this first fanāʾ of many to all that you think you are.” And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how I spent my Summer. Once I collected myself from the floor, I knocked at the door of three orders. The third one accepted me.
Provided that it’s asked with politeness and sanity (and doesn’t involve doxxing anyone), you may ask me anything you like and I will do my best to answer.
Among non-public initiates, the turnover was even worse. Granted, a large number were neophytes who got scared and "repented", but there were as many in late stages of their work who left for pastures new. Interestingly, I do not recall any of these moving towards atheism or materialism. The pull was always towards some iteration of RHP religion, usually Buddhism, though Christianity and Islam were common destinations too. When this wasn’t a “backslide into orthodoxy,” I assumed it was motivated by something so personal as to be basically unintelligible to others — a common feature among serious magicians of every stripe. The thought never occurred to me that such a move might actually be the fulfilment of advanced LHP work. As time passed, I came to see that this was precisely the case.
For me, the methods I used were excellent at feeding desire. This is no small thing. If desire is strong enough, it can fuel fixed Will and Will, properly directed, can propel a person from a one of life's wrecks to someone respected in every room they walk in ("from tragic to magic"). This is appealing when one has unjustly lacked worldly success, been inhibited, or simply been given too little to fulfil their nature (and there are more than a few of us Leonine types around).
In these LHP locales, the "world"/society was taught to be a kind of proving ground for the magician, a test-of-strength which ensured that what one was working on had real-world application, avoiding the historical tendency of magicians to drift into their own subjective universe ("Impressive that you had an 'experience' invoking Raziel under Mercury but you can't pay your bills Ryan!"). Both of my LHP schools would expel those who were not achieving sufficiently in the wider world. As consciousness crystallised, one’s ability to master oneself naturally developed the qualities likely to lead to greater worldly power — commanding money, valuable skills, or trust from others. It's interesting that, despite the myth of Faust, much of LHP worldly advancement is actually about increasing responsibility ("responsibility to the responsible") rather than overnight fame or lottery wins.
In my case, because the suppressed energy that had accumulated throughout childhood and into my teens was so intense, the desire so impossibly enormous, when it met the LHP the result was explosive, especially for the first five or six years. By the time that orgy of being was over, the first of the LHP’s advanced lessons arrived: fulfilling desires increases the strength of desire, but the means that once fulfilled desire loses power. This is not dissimilar to a meth addict whose craving grows as the drug’s ability to satisfy diminishes. This raised troubling metaphysical questions: "Why can the world not fulfil us?" The deeper currents of the LHP offered an answer — consciousness is “non-natural,” and therefore indulgence in the world will never suffice. Where conventional religions teach that the world cannot fulfil the soul and counsel restraint so as to not amplify desire, the deep LHP taught to accept that the desire will not be resolved — that it will grow — and that the agony can become fuel for mastery. In the quiet corners of the LHP, there is a name for one who embodies this condition of unmet yearning as fuel for mastery: the Vampyre.
I lived as a Vampyre for so long, explored its facets in so many lights, that its oldest expressions became more and more the focus of my Work — for the states of consciousness behind the Vampyre were known with near-scientific precision in other times and places, when the European vampire was a still a dirty revenant rather than a beautiful creature of longing and the Western LHP did not yet exist. An encounter with Sufism, the school of yearning, was fated. In the words of Rumi and Ibn ʿArabi, in the figure of the Sufi, I saw the Vampyre again: burning with longing and desire, but with greater control and greater mastery in the alchemy that turns yearning into ascent. I saw one who could taste the ecstasies of the world and come away not jaded by what they could not give, but refreshed by what they reminded the soul of — one who did not feed from life in a panic to stave off death, but who embraced death to fully immerse in Life.
The change from blood to wine did not come easily. The energy loops that had long accumulated had to burn away. The addiction to mythos, to my own story, had to collapse. I wish I could say this was voluntary. In truth, I had played at the edges of Sufism for so long that it played back with me, bringing about a kind of inner collapse, as if to say: “You want Forever lion cub? Then you must truly die — die in this first fanāʾ of many to all that you think you are.” And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how I spent my Summer. Once I collected myself from the floor, I knocked at the door of three orders. The third one accepted me.
Provided that it’s asked with politeness and sanity (and doesn’t involve doxxing anyone), you may ask me anything you like and I will do my best to answer.