Religious, but not spiritual

 Something that is often heard among people in esoteric, new age, and other circles of that type, is the phrase: “I’m not religious, but I am spiritual”. The phrase has never sat right with me. it always seems to suggest a sort of anti-authoritarian stance coupled with the seeking of novel experience through spirituality, or a way of letting people know you are unshackled from tradition, while still being ‘deep’.

While these things in themselves are alright, I’ve gradually come to quite a contrary point of view. In my case, it’s probably true to say that “I’m not spiritual, but I am religious”.

I used to be the sort of person who sought novel spiritual experiences. In my younger days I took all manner of drugs, had a liking for psychedelics, and was convinced that a big enough dose of the right drug would lead to breakthrough experiences, whatever they are. In magickal practice I also experimented with all kinds of magick, evocations, astral travel, inner visionary experiences, as well as yoga and meditation. The ultimate experiences of course as an A.’.A.’. person was the Knowledge and Conversation of the Holy Guardian Angel.

So often we are seeking for some experience, some validating event to justify our efforts, uphold our idea of how we would like the world to be, for validation and satisfaction. This is really a sort of spiritually expressed materialism. When we behave like this, we are really spiritual tourists. Some go to far off places and experience different cultures (I’ve done that too, and highly recommend it), some use this experience of being ‘travellers’ to form a persona. Back in the 90’s it was quite the thing to be able to call yourself a traveller. It has a savour of mystery, adventure, a robust and worldly person worthy of respect. Spiritual tourists, those seeking peak experiences, or just those seeking badges and grades, are no different at root.

Its true to say that I no longer feel that way. Having travelled quite a lot, I yearn to settle in one place. I realised that I don’t like travelling, what I like is to stay in one place for a few years, get to know people, learn the language, hang around after the novelty wears off. In terms of practice, I found that what makes the difference isn’t the peak experiences, the visions and revelations, but the long-term practice itself. Anyone can have a profound experience by taking a large does of DMT or LSD, which is a good way of ‘loosening the girders of the soul, of shaking us out of habitual thought patterns, but what tends to happen is that people, when they come down, resume life much as if nothing had happened, having no discipline or practice to help fortify and ground the experience. 

For me the same is true of magical practices. Astral travel got to be like watching a good film or reading a great novel. When the credits roll, I would go back to my life as if nothing had happened. Likewise, the days when I felt illuminated by something holy, graced by God, in touch with my HGA, or whatever peak experience, left me otherwise unaffected. It didn’t do me any good, so what was the point?

What did make a difference, however, was my long term practice, constant, over many years (over 25 years now that I think about it). For me that has been meditation and related practices. I started meditating in my teens, took up Tai chi at about 20, Aikido at about 30. Daily meditation has gone on all through that time, even through periods when I was a ‘spiritual tourist’ looking for peak experiences and transcendental events. I first encountered Zen at about 16, but for many years it was too simple, too austere, it offered nothing but daily life lived with attention, and within a traditional religious framework, it wasn't novel enough for my thrill seeking attitude. What I appreciate now though is the way that practice is digested into life. The best digestion is silent, just as the best sleep is dreamless. So it is with practice, the best practice is routine, silent, not special. 

But over the last few years and after concluding that most peak experiences were a waste of time, I really started to appreciate Zen for what it is, as an uncompromising attitude of turning towards reality and meeting it as is, without embellishment or elaboration. These days I am much more content to call myself religious, defining it as the constant devotion to a way of life that respects tradition and proceeds in an attentive and unassuming way, not seeking anything other than what is, nor running away seeking novel experiences, avoiding the lure of spiritual escapism. 

I don't have any supernatural beliefs, my religion is not 'faith based', nor do I feel that I am a spiritual person. I have no aspirations to an afterlife, or magical power, and it strikes me that 'enlightenment' is just simply seeing things as they are, and certainly not some special state.

Of course, it took me a long time to arrive here, and don’t expect everybody to agree with my approach, particularly the average seeker. But for me, this is more wholesome, more honest, and open to life as it is, rather than as I would like it to be. To me this is the only real way of encountering reality. And in terms of spiritual progress? There is no ‘progress’, as such, but it does take a certain kind of person to continue to live and practice in that constant way. It takes grit, determination, stoicism really, to get up and practice, to sit on the cushion, day in day out for years without expecting anything, simply allowing delusion to fall away of its own accord. 

For me the reward is simply to be the sort of person who lives like that.

Lineages: not a new problem

When the sixth patriarch of Mahayana Buddhism, Eno of Huineng died, he was asked by his followers about the robe and bowl which the fifth patriarch had given him when he had named him as dharma successor. This bowl had been passed from patriarch to patriarch, all the way from Bodhidharma. So, the sixth patriarch was asked by his students, who gets the robe and bowl? In other words, who is the rightful dharma successor?

Eno was no fool, and refused to pass these items on to anybody. He knew that even then animosity had arisen between his own sangha and the prominent northern school of Zen Buddhism, led by his dharma brother and fellow student of the fifth patriarch. He asserted that all he knew he had stated in the Platform Sutra; "These were the true teaching and even if Buddha himself were here he would say the same things. Please practice and learn this teachings carefully. The dharma is transmissible, but the robe and bowl are sources of conflict".  

Even in Eno’s time there were five schools of Chan (Zen) Buddhism: Rinzai, Soto, Unmon, Hogen,  and Igyo. These he named the five petals of a flower. Eno refused to pass on the robe and bowl to any one, as this would have created a main lineage, to which all others would be secondary. Thus today we have the five schools. Even within those schools there is variation and difference between teachers.

The A\A\ is no different, being a lineal system dependent on transmission from generation to generation. Unlike the Zen traditions however, anybody who becomes even a Neophyte in A\A\ (and some say even a Probationer) can become a link in the chain, and one way or another, by hook or by crook, the Order continues. Some don't like this, and like Eno's students they ask, who has the robe and bowl? Wanting to know who is the 'real deal', they miss the point and fall into politics and controversy.

Does this mean that lineage has no value then? I don't think it has no value at all, but I do think it is besides the point. The A\A\ as an institution is no different than any other linage based religion, subject to the same conflicts of interest. However, like Buddhism, the dharma, the path itself, is open to anybody with the will to go through it, since the instructions are available to all. Having a lineage only demonstrates that you have been overseen by a person who presumably knows what they are doing. This does not necessarily mean much; Buddhist teachers have gone bad, misused their authority, with and without authentic lineage. During World War 2 there were Roshi (Zen Masters) who advocated the war in Asia, the invasion of China and the rest. The same is true of the Order, some have used it for their own gain, there have been bad eggs in the basket, while there are also good teachers, so in both instances it really depends on the individual. Telling the difference isn't always easy either.

This doesn't matter so much in the end, the key component is the aspirant. The path is open to all, the important thing is to begin, to work without lust of result, in earnest and self motivated dedication. Finding a teacher takes discernment, finding a good teacher might take more than a little luck, and lineage is no sure guide.

We would do well I think, to take a leaf out of the sixth patriarchs book, and recognise that Crowley left the teachings of the A\A\ available to all, and wrangling over who’s got the ‘robe and bowl’ leads only to conflict.

Practice is a pure well

 We are accustomed these days to bringing our opinions, politics, and points of view into everything we do. Most of us, at least some of the time conflate our spiritual practice with our morality, our values, and our politics, to the point where people say things like; “you can’t be spiritual and a conservative”, or “all liberals are degenerates”. This is hardly surprising considering the moral facet of most religions, but such oversimplifications give a false sense of comfort and security, after all, we are in the right, aren’t we? It’s obviously those guys over there who have it wrong, and are therefore unspiritual, blinded by their egos and ingrained attitudes, whereas we are the ones who have it figured out, we are on the path, everyone else is lost and the don’t even know it, right?

In my experience these attitudes and tendencies to conflate political and social attitudes and other aspects of the mind with spirituality are the fastest way to ruin a perfectly good practice. Many a temple has been torn apart by infighting between opposing viewpoints, and fraternal bonds sundered over who voted for who or ones views on the hot topic of the day. 

Of course, one must always be honest and sincere in ones beliefs and opinions, and without looking reality directly in the face no progress can be made. Facts are facts, if you drink sulfuric acid because you don't believe what those nasty scientists tell you about it, and what you put in your body is your choice anyway, you will die just the same. We must deal with reality as it is, not as we would like it to be, as our senses report, not how we feel. Understanding what we think and why, and how we feel about things and why, is all part of the practice we are engaged in as initiates, so identifying with our opinions so that we can no longer see where we end and our opinions begin is, for an initiate, a form of blindness, and one that all of us fall for to some extent. 

Despite this, all of us, without exception are seeking in our practice, to make contact with and partake of that pure well of experience, the ‘ground of being’ that springs up in each of us by virtue of the fact that we exist at all. Call it 'union with God', 'the Knowledge and Conversation of the Holy Guardian Angel', 'Moksha', or whatever. That's where the path tends to, all on the path are heading in that way, battling through their own jungle to do so.

While the A.’.A.’. is not a lodge system, nobody lives in a vacuum, and initiates should be careful about this wellspring of pure being at the heart of our aspiration. Take care not to muddy it or cover it over with the dirt and refuse of our lives, our opinions, and all the other things we mistake for ourselves. It’s an extremely difficult thing to do in practice, but I believe that ones politics and opinions should be left at the temple door and that sacred space be entered with a real sense of fraternity, more than that, reverence, and a recognition and identity with our brothers and sisters, we are all , in our own way, trying to do the same thing. 

This does not mean that ones opinions and ideas need never be challenged; practice is not a safe space but a real challenging of ourselves to be our authentic self, the 'face before you were born', not the veil of personality that we take for our self. In terms of teacher/student relations, a teacher may ask a student why they hold an opinion, asking them to question themselves, but he should not place a moral judgement on it, and a wise teacher will leave well enough alone once something has been pointed out as a point to practice on, and not harp on about it. Likewise a student who expects the teacher to always meet their ideal of some enlightened being will be disappointed if they find out that the teachers opinions differ from their own, or that their teacher is another human with his own failures and quirks, and not the mahatma they expect, they may flee in disgust and never again trust another human being to try to help.

The A.’.A.’., not the order founded by Crowley, but the supernal Order, exists beyond the limitations of personality, way above Tiphareth even, and cannot be defined in the limited terms of the ego. Learning to get beyond these limitations, see the pure well buried beneath aeons of dust and grime, a lifetime of opinions and ideals, fears, hopes, and other detritus of the personality, is the whole of practice. If we want to drink of this pure well of experience that is our birth right, we must begin by clearing out the detritus in ourselves. This is why regular meditation is so important. More than that, we must refuse to allow detritus to be thrown casually into the well by others, the temple, sangha, place of practice and group that we practice with should as much as possible be free of these things. This isn’t to say we shouldn’t have opinions, but that we need to be able to leave them at the temple door. 

If I write to a brother and sign off as ‘Frater’, this means we are operating in sacred space, and I don’t expect to be asked about my opinion on this or that current event. If I don a robe in a group setting, this is an opportunity to touch the source of reality, not the place for idle gossip and chatter, or the judging of others who are there, we hope, for the same reasons we are. Likewise, if a brother or sister expresses an opinion I disagree with, then in temple or sacred context is not the time or place to bring it up, and while we must be swift to correct a misconception or falsity we need to be cautious about how, when, and even if we do so. Sometimes it is wiser to let things be, if it causes no harm, and if a person proves intractable in error, for example where an idea is foundational to a whole worldview, then while the individual concerned will need to break that barrier down themselves (and this is the path of the tower), often outside interference in such fondly held beliefs is met with hostility, silence is preferable in most instances.  

Humans are social animals, and even the brethren, other people on the path, want to talk to each other about current events and will always have differing views on things. There is not necessarily anything wrong with this, but we need to be aware that here we are operating no higher than Hod/Netzach, the Outer College so to speak, and subject to false egos in the place of the real Tiphareth. At this level all is confusion, and interactions here are prone to misunderstandings. There needs to be a clear demarcation between this sort of thing and dealing with matters pertaining to the path. if we cannot rise past these things, up, along the middle pillar, and beyond such trivialities in our interactions with others then we are not yet touching the source, that well spring is as yet covered. If we get continually involved in the mental agitations of our brothers and sisters of lower grades then this is an opportunity to practice rising on the planes and bypassing these spheres of the personality, for both our sakes.

It is said that when sat in meditation we all become Buddha. That is to say, when in meditation we all identify with that wellspring of our lives. Thought drops away and with it opinion and ego, thus we are really all the same person in this state of pure being. in light of this, it is important I feel to move beyond the limitations of the personality and try to see each person as a reflection of ourselves, not as an ego with an opinion that we want to argue with, but as a pure being drawing life from, and expressing in their way that infinite and unknown source. 

This, I think, is the real meaning of fraternity. 

 

Sitting through impatience

 Over the last month or so my periods of sitting in zazen have lengthened from 10-15 to 30+, with daily morning sittings being broken into two 25-30 sessions, so about 50 minutes before anything else in the day. This started out from participating in online zazenkai, one of the few benefits of the pandemic. Living in a very rural location there is no opportunity to get to a zendo, but having people on the other end of a zoom meeting is surprisingly helpful.

When I started this extended sittings I was faced with my own impatience. Previously, sittings tended to be fairly short and even as a zelator I rarely sat more than 20 minutes except for the hour required to pass my exam for that grade which I did by effort of will. Now, having embraced the zen Buddhist method of shikan taza, things have changed, one of which is my sense of time while sitting.

I had unconsciously trained myself to essentially sit still until a bell rang, allowing me to stop. I would mark this time by counting the breath and my frustration would mount until I heard the bell as a signal that it was over. One morning I was sat for the first of a two part sitting, supposed to be 2 sets of 25 minutes with a 5 minute break in the middle. I was sitting, expecting the bell, knowing full well that it had to be any moment. I sit facing a wall so there is no way to check without craning my neck so I sat patiently, slowly realising that it wasn't going to come. What I also noticed was that now that I was certain that no bell was going to ring I had stopped waiting for it and a lot of the tension I had built up had dissipated, I was fine just sitting there, not waiting for anything, not expecting anything.

The lesson here I think, is that setting up zazen as a chore that has to be got through just puts up resistance. On the other hand if I put aside thoughts of how much longer I need to sit there, assuming my posture is good and the body not in pain then I am happy to sit there as long as necessary. The real resistance is in my mind. I think this attitude can be taken into other areas of life, for example work hours; instead of worrying about time to go to lunch, just carry on until it is time without fretting about it. 

Often in morning zazen, my mind will naturally turn towards the days tasks. Planning as usual, running mental lists. This is ok I think, as long as I don't get absorbed into it, but is really another symptom of impatience, a sense of having something pending. A better approach would be to view zazen as time to myself, not as a chore but as a rest, a rest even from my hobbies and other distractions, checking emails, reading, watching YouTube or whatever I might do as a form of escapism.   

I have also dropped any sort of breath counting in zazen. Once I realised that I was using it to mark the time I could see that it was being put into the service of my impatience (how many cycles of 10 do I need to do before I am finished?). What I notice is that after a while the breath gets naturally deep and slow, only being interrupted when I notice this and the mind turns towards it and automatically tries to control it, a symptom of long years doing pranayama. 

Zazen then has become an exercise in just being, not trying to control anything, much less an attempt to muscle through enforced stasis on the cushion. I'm starting to quite look forward to the morning sittings as a period of quiescence before the business of the day. While I am aware that zazen is essentially a goalless practice something obscurely satisfying has arisen out of just taking the time to slowly watch the dawn come in each morning in silence and real attentiveness to the here and now. 

Why I don't meditate

Through my years as an A.'.A.'. aspirant I practiced Raja yoga assiduously according to the requirements laid out in the outer college curriculum. This meant Asana from Probationer, adding Pranayama at Zelator, Dharana at Practicus and Dhyana at Dominus Liminus. My daily practice for several years was asana and pranayama every morning for perhaps 20 minutes, sometimes more or less. This type of meditation practice had some interesting effects but was generally a goal oriented practice; for example the goal of the Zelator is to be able to sit in asana for 1 hour, the goal of Dharana is one-pointed concentration on an object, and so on. These things, while they took time to learn were not that difficult to achieve for short periods of time after a few years of daily practice, and sitting in asana became second nature as the body became conditioned to it.

This form of practice had its desired effect, but it always left me with a sense of something off. I realised after many years that the act of meditation itself, with its goal of samadhi, had somehow missed the real point. Perhaps I was approaching it with the wrong attitude, but Crowley talked a lot about 'getting' samadhi as a state of consciousness that could be achieved by force of will. But to me it became clear that this in a sense was an act of violence against reality not much different from the use of mind-altering drugs, only much less efficient.

As I passed from Adeptus Minor to Adeptus Major my attitude began to change. I gradually broke away from the A.'.A.'. curriculum and explored other areas, and you could say that my perspective broadened as a result. The idea of trying to obtain something, some novel state of mind, be it samadhi or whatever, began to seem like a form of escapism, running away from my life as it is. I've done my fair share of astral travel, had visions, conversed with spirits and gods, and explored strange inner worlds. During my examination of Christianity the idea of heaven and hell and the afterlife was revisited and I came to the conclusion that these too were a sort of escapism a hope of something better than the way things are now and a fear that they could get a lot worse if I don't watch myself. It all started to consist of concern for futures that don't exist, a sort of negative karma approach to the work.

Since an Adeptus Major is supposed to work with these forces of karma, of cause and effect, this wouldn't do. I dropped all of the Christian ideas of the afterlife, realising that most popular Christianity is a cult of 'otherworlders', not really capable of being here and now being too concerned with an afterworld that existed largely in their heads. What I did take from that period is a strong need to stop running, to just stop in one place and see how things were. For this reason I was strongly attracted to Benedictine spirituality which is all about stability and ordinariness, in stark contrast to Christianity as it is generally perceived, it is a sort of Christian Zen.

Around that time I had begun to practice zazen rather than meditation as such. Zazen is superficially like meditation, except that there is no goal, no need to concentrate or focus the attention. The type of zazen I favour, shikan taza, is just sitting. Even breath control isn't really part of the practice which is aimed only at experiencing life as it is, unfiltered, with no goal and nothing to attain.

One of the reasons I chose to convert formally to Buddhism was this practice of shikan taza. No need to believe anything, the 16 bodhisattva precepts are adhered to as a method of balancing thought and action so as not to create further karma, ideal for an Adeptus Major. The goalless 'just sitting' of zazen is the method to practice this. Meditation practice such as Raja Yoga is always practiced with some goal in mind, as if there is something outside the self that makes for enlightenment, conceived either as something we need to bring into ourselves to make us holy, or as something we need to bring out of ourselves, to realise, in order to obtain enlightenment. In contrast to this, Buddhism teaches that enlightenment is this very moment perceived as it is, without expectation. Sitting in zazen is in itself the embodiment of enlightenment. So rather than trying to attain anything, my practice is just to sit, to accept things as they are rather than as I would like them to be. This is actually very difficult for somebody like me who has always striven for something or other. 

All my life I have been trying to attain something only to realise that there is nothing to gain. No goal, no state of illumination that will make it all make sense. Whatever goals I may obtain, be they academic qualifications, a good job, a grade in a magical order or a black belt in a martial art, are passing things and they don't address the real issue. You could say that up until a few years ago my spiritual life was completely goal oriented, only to realise that there is no goal, effectively turning me back on myself and the real questions. This is a real revolution of the self, instead of wandering about seeking something outside the self that will satisfy, just to be with things as they are. Meditation is like taking a trip in your head, good fun with visions to attain and states of consciousness to enjoy, but when the vision or mind state is over you are back with yourself and the problems of life; old age, sickness and death. Further, with zazen and Buddhist practice there is nothing to learn, no secrets to uncover, and no special states to attain to. The idea of grades seems ridiculous in this light. If I am learning anything in this practice it is only how to be silent.

So I suppose you could say that this is my focus now, how to come to terms with the fundamental issues of life, and I have determined to address this not by seeking for some afterlife or evidence of another option, but instead to sit with things as they are and stop trying to escape. Zazen is exactly this. It's uncomfortable at times, I usually want to jump up and move about, or get lost in a daydream or vision, so even not trying to stop these things is a temptation. Just sitting with yourself, staring at the wall, letting the mind do it's own thing, letting the body ache, and just being with it, is a much more difficult and austere practice. Yet somehow, more than anything else, it forces me to turn to reality as it is, and learn to be ok with it. 

If you're not being honest, you're not on the path

 Something that has been central to my practice for a long time is integrity. It wasn't always a central component but over the years I have come to the conclusion that dishonesty, with oneself and with others, is antithetical to spiritual practice. This really came to a head though my Practicus period when a couple of times my integrity, both intellectually and morally were put to the test. Since then I have been more or less compelled to absolute honesty with myself. 

In case I am misunderstood I should be clear; this has little to do with morality and everything to do with expedience. The universe itself is based on truth, it is itself,  this is often not as we would wish it to be or as we imagine it to be. If we wish to uncover its mysteries then we need to base our examination on truth. Truth for us, as explorers of the self and its relation with the universe, must begin with self-honesty. You cannot understand the self if you are in denial about the self, and you cannot understand the universe if you base your understanding on a false premise. This is why I assert unequivocally, that if you are not being honest, you are not on the path.

One of the reasons I essentially washed my hands of most of the occult scene, is the tendency towards believing things that from what I could see, were most likely not true. People saying things and acting in ways that made me think they didn't really believe it themselves. Another aspect was the prevalence of conspiracy theories. So many people practicing the western mystery traditions are also espousing ideas promulgated by David Icke and other fabricators of misinformation, literal enemies of truth, weaving factoids and popular ideas into enticing narratives that offer the cold comfort of being 'in the know'. Such people, while they talk about spiritual things and claim to be aspirants, are using the language of spirituality as a pose, a mask. They are not really interested in the truth of things, only in having their worldview confirmed. This bias is becoming more and more obvious with the advent of social media. People don't want reality, they want to be entertained and validated.

More recently they are also the same people who espouse climate change denial, deny that the coronavirus which has killed millions, even exists, and deny the efficacy of vaccines and seem to willingly distort things to fit their narrative that 'the man', some evil cabal of nefarious people, are trying to kill us all, or some such nonsense. You need only look at the data to see this isn't so. And by data I don't mean memes and YouTube videos.

"Aha", cries the believer, "maybe that's what 'they' want you to think".

Perhaps, but we have to have a standard of judgement, and either we accept that the whole scientific and medical establishment is lying to us, or the talking heads and rando's of YouTube are. 

But then, as a member of the scientific establishment myself, maybe I'm lying, another shill for big climate.....see how the logic goes?

With such people, I can only draw a couple of conclusions. Either they are gullible or dishonest, and reading the literature on such things it seems that people of that mindset will believe anything if it supports their worldview. People who believe one conspiracy theory are more likely to believe others, because that's how their minds work.

It seems that conspiracy theorists often have a persecution based mindset: somebody is doing things to me/us, they are out to get us, or keeping the truth from us. The reasons for this are unclear so I don't like to speculate too much. Narcissism and paranoia seem to play a role, as does lack of social currency, as if holding fringe beliefs offers some sort of consolation.

The same goes for a lot of spiritual theories and faiths. One of the reasons I could not countenance Christianity, aside from the hypocrisy, was the requirement of faith in that which I knew was almost certainly not true. Pretty much all religions have elements of this, and one reason I settled on zen Buddhism was that there is no requirement for faith, only practice. It has a 'come and see' attitude, although Buddhism too has various sects who espouse things I don't believe and see no reason to accept as truth. When I was active in the A.'.A.'. there was this unspoken faith in the HGA, and in the lineal succession of the Order so that we all got hung up on who was the real deal, and who was a faker. I have come to realise that the fakers are those who twist things for personal gain, irrespective of their paperwork or claims. There is also the idea that there is no illumination outside the A.'.A.'., a sort of faith that 'we are the real spiritual people', and all the rest, other religions and philosophies are somehow outside the temple. Exclusionary thinking if ever I saw it. I cannot accept that the A.'.A.'. has exclusive access to anything, it's just an idea that some people identify with, even I did for a long time, blinkered as I was.

Without critical appraisal of both the information you take on board and the faith you accept, and without absolute honesty with oneself, there can be no real spiritual practice. In the words of Nishijima Roshi: We are living in the universe, which is based in truth. Truth and honesty are bound together. If we are not honest we can never know our real situation in the universe.

Adhering to things which you have no basis for adhering to other than they sound nice or pander to your prejudice. Or worse yet, deliberately, misunderstanding, misconstruing, or disseminating false information and deceiving both yourself and others, are antithetical to the path. Anybody doing so and calling themselves initiate is deluding themselves.

All that remains and what came after

 This last year or so had brought many changes. One of my main themes has been simplification and refinement of practice, a casting off of the unnecessary in an effort to distil practice into a form with as little 'extra', as possible. This attitude, along with a tendency to seek out authenticity in all things has led me to drop off 93% of Thelemic and Occult ideas. Magick, Qaballah, Gematria, Visions and Divinations, in favour more and more, of simple sitting meditation.

 I have repeatedly echoed the sentiment of the Tibetan Poet and Siddha Milarepa: "My religion is not deceiving myself".

 Even my meditation naturally underwent simplification. The effort to concentrate on mantras or mental images naturally went, and I saw no reason to continue to think along the lines of chakras, energy lines, Kundalini and the rest. My practice of Aikido has shown me what 'extending ki' means, and nothing extra in terms of theory is required, nor observed either subjectively or objectively. Ki moves because it moves, anything else is extra and liable to be a barrier to progress. When I extent Ki I just do it, I don't use any theory, it's just a feeling. Imagine having to understand the complexities of our nerve fibres in order to walk. 

 My dabbling with Christianity last year taught me two things. The first is that without a robust set of ethics, spiritual practice is solipsistic, something done for the self, a self which cannot exist in isolation from others. The second is that I simply don't believe most of what many religions and spiritual systems require me to believe. I discarded Christianity as being neither ethically viable (too much blood on the churches hands for me to recognise them as a moral authority) nor intellectually honest (who on earth believes in the virgin birth and resurrection?). Thelema likewise, while useful in my 20's and most of my 30's as a philosophy of action, expects too much in terms of complex and unnecessary theory and having too weak an ethical framework. The caveat here is that the concepts of Nuit/Hadit/Ra-Hoor-Khuit, are in my opinion viable in their essence, but too flowery for my taste. 

There is no need to gild the lily, but reality as it is, is an acquired taste and we are accustomed to artificial flavourings.

 It is clear that Crowley collected ideas that he liked from older traditions and cobbled it together into his new religion, I don't for a moment believe in the reception theory. To me Thelema seems contrived, synthetic, and not something I want to identify with. Thelema too often leads to a sort of self absorbed attitude which is essentially selfish and narrow in too many people, and many are more interested in proving others wrong and having things their own way, calling this their 'True Will', while displaying high levels of immaturity and no real desire to move beyond the cosplaying stage, what my supervisor called the 'burning ground'. Professional soldiers who dare not fight, as Liber Al would put it. Spiritual practice is all too often a case of trying on new hats in order to demonstrate one's status to others. As the Buddhists would put it, this is having a head on top of your own head. While fun, it's really 'something extra'.

 So I closed that door behind me too. On attaining the K&C of the HGA, I realised by degrees that there is no Angel, only the formless, emptiness which is at once fullness. In the Christian mystical traditions there is a parallel phenomena, where the mystic gets so close to God that God seems to disappear. Some mistake this for 'losing their faith', while those who persist realise that what has happened is really a sort of Dhyana, the I/Thou relationship of the beginner, the supplicant and the angel, God and the worshipper is now simply one of identity, there is no need to have any image of God, an Angel or anything else. What presented itself to me as the angel was shown to be emptiness, the 'image of an image', to quote Liber 65, a way to come to grips with the idea but a means that must eventually be discarded if real union is to occur. 

A core tenet of the A.'.A.'. no longer has any meaning for me at this point, there is no angel, and form is at it's heart emptiness, ever changing, not constant and having no real eternal substance that I could grasp on to. Hadit proved to be not a constant point, but simply a point of view, ever flowing and changing. 

The tree of life was once described to me as 'useful to hang things on'. At the time (all of 18 years old) this struck me as too dismissive of something that I found profound. Now I am inclined to agree with it, and the A.'.A.'. system too is merely a way of keeping track of a series of stages, but in itself has no real meaning. It is a tool, nothing more, yet is too often used as a banner to wave and a social identifier (look at me, I'm an A.'.A.'. initiate!). "Aha", says the cynic, "but which lineage?", and we are right back in the relative world of I, me, mine. 

 Have I then left the A.'.A.'.? It is more accurate to say that the A.'.A.'. has fallen away as 'something extra'. You don't keep wearing your old uniform after you finish high school. I've not taken on students in years and don't really think of my practice in A.'.A.'. terms, or even tree of life terms, except to facilitate conversation with one or two people who I still talk to in that world. 

 So what's left after this wholesale iconoclasm of ideas and affiliations? Not much, yet everything, just as it always was before I started trying to make more of it. The only thing that approaches this is Zen. This is something that has always been in the background, but which I only now, approaching my 41st year, begin to appreciate.

 More precisely, the Soto Zen school has taken my interest. It's fair to say that I have jumped in with both feet. I have in fact been practicing meditation for many years, and through my martial arts practice Buddhist concepts have become second nature, they just work and I don't need to contort myself to their shape. Over the last few months I have studied a lot of the historical and theoretical background, done a lot more zazen, and made contact with various Zen Buddhist teachers and groups and aim to formally receive the 16 Bodhisattva precepts in the not too distant future. 'Converted' to Buddhism isn't how I would describe it. It's more a case of, when everything else is removed, what's left is essentially that most austere outcrop of Buddhism. One could say that I simply made a conscious decision to follow what was already there, a fair definition of doing one's True Will.

  I moved to a new city in a new country yesterday. I am here for work for two years on a project related to climate change, an issue which I regard as an existential threat. Possibly in some small way I might do some good. Anyway, yesterday I was exploring the town, I found an antique shop and had the idea that I should go in and look for a Buddha statue. Within minutes I had found exactly that, and exactly the right Buddha for zen practice; Shakyamuni Buddha (Gautama Buddha, the founder of Buddhism). Rendered fairly crudely in a lump of ancient ebony wood. While not cheap he was within my budget, and (old habit perhaps, I don't like to haggle for this type of thing) so I bought him outright. I now have a makeshift alter in my temporary accommodation.

 This is an early iteration. Over time it will develop. I need light and incense, but not much else. I like the physical reminders of spiritual practice. The clothing, the paraphernalia and ritual. These provide a supporting framework on which to develop a practice, although care needs to be taken that we don't take up the outer expressions and forget the heart of practice. 

As I get older and past obsessions fall away, the straightforward humanity of a practice based on the facts of existence suits me more than detailed theories and intellectual baubles. Thelema was always trying to get somewhere and magick is always trying to get something. I realised some time back that there is nowhere to 'get' to, no goal, True Will is a process of living authentically, not a task to perform. Besides that, all I really want is to live naturally in the world as part of it, and making peace with the facts of nature, the facts of getting older, and living in a world which is constantly passing away before our eyes, whose one constant feature is its impermanence. I may perhaps be able to help others to do the same since we are all in the same boat.  It is in this spirit of openness to what is, the small things of daily life, as well as the larger questions of life & death, suffering, purpose, that I hope to pursue the path into middle age.

Pertinax