The Magdalen and Gnostic Gospels

Mary Magdalene in Ecstasy, Artemisia Gentileschi. 1617.

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Molly Hankins April 24, 2025

The Gnostic Gospels, discovered in Egypt in 1945, includes 52 texts allegedly omitted from the Bible that were authored in the first or second century A.D. Information in these texts suggests that Jesus was married to Mary Magdalen and had a family with her, which corroborates the information channeled by Tom Kenyon and his wife Judi Sion in The Magdalen Manuscript. In this book,Mary Magdalen herself tells the story of her life with Jesus, then known as Yeshua, his true purpose for incarnating on Earth and her role as both his divine counterpart and a practicing priestess of the Temple of Isis.

Contrary to what’s included in the Bible, the Gnostic Gospels tell us that Magdalen was not a prostitute - she was an Initiate and priestess of the Temple of Isis, as was Yeshua’s mother Mary. Initiates were practitioners of tantric alchemy trained to use the subtle energies of sexual energy to activate the human light body. This work, described in detail in a previous article, is a means of achieving magical,healing abilities and, ultimately, immortality. According a portion of the Gospel of Thomas, a roughly 1500 year old manuscript housed in the British Library, not only was Magdalen married to Yeshua and the mother of his child, they were both practitioners of alchemical tantric magic and she was the founder of the Judeo-Christian church. 

Study of these gospels has proven controversial and difficult to verify historically - much of it is written in code and parts of the manuscripts have clearly been censored. However, channeled material supported by historical and archaeological record has proved to be a unique way of tracing human history. The most famous example is Dorothy Eady, a mid-20th century British historian who worked for the Egyptian Department of Antiquities. Following a head injury as a young girl, she recalled a past life as a fellow Isis Initiate in a  relationship with Pharaoh Seti at the Temple of Abydos. As an adult working in Abydos, she was able to accurately remember details from her past life and provide information to the Department of Antiquities to determine where onsite archaeological digs should take place.

In the same way Eady’s insights were supported by excavation and written historical record, much of what is shared in The Magdalen Manuscript is found  in parts of the Gnostic Gospels. After the crucifixion, Yeshua’s followers split into several groups and authored their own records of their time with him, which became known as the gospels. At that time Christianity was being heavily persecuted by the Roman empire  but under Emperor Constantine in the 4th century A.D. a specific form of Christianity was adopted by Rome, the version taught by the apostle Paul. All other gospels were systematically destroyed or hidden, losing nearly all records of Yeshua’s life as a young man and his relationship with Magdalen.

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“The material world is an illusion, a game for our souls to explore and evolve in, and achieving ecstatic states of bliss is how we transcend it.”

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It was during the early years of their relationship, according to Magdalen, that Yeshua also became an Initiate and was able to strengthen his Ka, or light body. In another book of channeled material, The Law of One from the Egyptian sun god Ra, much reference is made to souls getting lost in the third density of Earth. This is why more advanced, inter-dimensional beings are working to help the human collective achieve karmic escape velocity. Christ’s crucifixion can be interpreted as serving the same purpose, and some Biblical scholars interpret Yeshua and Ra to be different expressions of the same being.

The Magdalen Manuscript states that the purpose of Yeshua’s resurrection was to, “cut a passage through death itself,” allowing others understand the true nature of life and death and thereby “follow his trail of light” so as not to get lost in third density. His teachings were the means of escaping the wheel of karma, and his resurrection was the ultimate miracle proving that any of us could follow these teachings and achieve the same state of being. Indeed, every miracle he performed was intended to be a demonstration that his level of Christ consciousness is available to all of us, but this idea was omitted by the Roman-adopted version of Christianity. Instead of the story of Yeshua’s life and death serving as an example for all mankind, the narrative was revised to deify him and suggest that perfection and power were impossible to achieve.

Magdalen, through Kenyon’s channeling, clarified that those who witnessed Yeshua’s resurrection were seeing his light-body, which he had strengthened enough through personal and tantric spiritual practice to appear even though his physical body had died. After his resurrection, she and Yeshua’s mother and their young child were not safe under Roman rule, so they fled to France. They eventually made their way to what is now England to seek the protection of The Druids, who had connections to the Isis priesthood. The early Judeo-Christian church, founded by Magdalen, was a hybrid of Judaism, Paganism and Christianity. There is some surviving evidence, including a mosaic floor at a fifth century synagogue called Beit Alpha near Galilee in Israel, where Yeshua was from and where he taught. 

The mosaic depicts the zodiac with Pagan symbols, and Yeshua appearing in the center as the sun god Helios, the Greek equivalent to the Egyptian god Ra. There are also several traditional Jewish symbols depicted, including a temple and shofar which  Magdalen Manuscript’s claim that early Judeo-Christianity was established first in the Jewish region of Galilee and later amongst the Pagan-practicing Druids. This early expression of Christianity united multiple religious systems and revered the holy physical union of Magdalen and Yeshua. The separation from Jewish and Pagan influence and glorification of celibacy came with the later, distorted version adopted under Constantine. 

Following the account of her life and relationship with Yeshua, the second half of The Magdalen Manuscript provides a detailed analysis of world religions, alchemy practices and the commonalities between them and the original Judeo-Christian tenets. Many of these themes, largely erased from post-Constantine Christianity, are closer to a Vedic, Buddhist or Kabbalist worldview. The core message is that the material world is an illusion, a game for our souls to explore and evolve in, and achieving ecstatic states of bliss is how we transcend it. We all have the power to recognize life as a dream, awaken from it, and thereby enjoy it more.

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Molly Hankins is an Initiate + Reality Hacker serving the Ministry of Quantum Existentialism and Builders of the Adytum.

Parting (Museum of Suspense II)

Giovanni Lanfranco, Mary Magdalene Raised by Angels, c. 1616, oil on canvas, Museo Nazionale di Capodimonte, Naples.

Ale Nodarse April 22, 2025

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A woman is borne aloft. She is called Mary Magdalen, and she floats. She rises naked, appearing, for a moment, like an air bubble brought to the surface of a stream. She does not move, but the artist clarifies her upward trajectory. One of three angels pulls at the cloth Mary sits upon  to raise her up, up and away. 

This seventeenth-century Magdalen (c. 1616) by the Italian painter Giovanni Lanfranco might count as one portrait of Mary Magdalen among many within the Museum of Suspense. Lanfranco himself was an eclectic observer of earlier painting. Merging disparate styles, his composition here draws readily upon medieval precedents. The image of the floating figure had stemmed from a thirteenth-century collection of saint’s lives, Jacobus de Voragine’s Golden Legend (Legenda Aurea), which included details of Mary Magdalene’s life after the death of her beloved Christ. This Mary chose to live in solitude and, as the Legend describes, forsake all food and drink; and yet, “every day she was lifted up in the air of angels” and given incorporeal sustenance. This continued until her death when her soul, as opposed to her body, parted indefinitely. In the 1616 canvas, Lanfranco leaves us to wonder if Mary ascends for a first or final time. His picture prompts us, in other words, to ask when. 

The picture is, of course, a material thing. Made of wood, canvas, and oil, it remains on the side of the ground. Likewise, the artist’s vision is a mortal one. Yet, just as  suspension challenges the division between ground and sky, so too does Mary’s body — liable, as it now appears, to drift. The artist’s vision entails a similar movement. To paint the miraculous, one wonders, did Lanfranco think of more “quotidian” blues. Did he once open his eyes under water? Did he look at the sun through the lens of the sea? Did he catch the billow of cloth in a wave? 

On the lower right of Lanfranco’s canvas, two small figures look up.

Our own mortal vision is set within the work. We are consigned to a lower realm. We are like them: those figures who, to the right of the dark outcropping, peer up. As one figure points and as the other raises a hand to forehead (as if to guard his vision from excessive light), we may recall when we have looked similarly to the sky above. The distance of cosmic events unfolding there, above — whether eclipse or ascension — may remind us of our proximity here, below. For a moment, the painting’s suspense might remind us of our shared conditions: of gravity, of departures, and of the periodic longing to overcome them both. 

In the Gospel of John, Mary Magdalene carries news of Christ’s ascension. “Do not cling to me,” Christ tells her, “for I have not yet ascended […].” Christ continues with an instruction to go to the apostles, “to go to my brothers and say to them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.”¹ As the chosen messenger, Mary becomes another apostle. The painting of her departure may be said to recollect this moment, as her temporary ascension mirrors that of the man she once knew and sought to grasp. Apart from one’s own beliefs, the image finds poignancy in this lingering of leavings. Mary’s stance remains open. Her eyes turn skyward, and her arms outstretch — less certainty and more question. That question may be a familiar one: Who do we look up to when we look up and away?

I doubt the poet Mary Oliver sought to paraphrase Christ’s words within John, but a shared concern resides within her own instruction. “To live in this world,” she writes: 

you must be able 
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it

against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go, 
to let it go.²

In the moment of the Magdalene’s parting, there is something of all three. The time that comes — the time to “let it go” — has not yet arrived. It remains instead the painting’s question: a when which is also our own.

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¹John 20:17, English Standard Version. 
²Mary Oliver, “In Blackwater Woods,” American Primitive (Back Bay Books, 1983)

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Alejandro (Ale) Nodarse Jammal is an artist and art historian. They are a Ph.D. Candidate in History of Art & Architecture at Harvard University and are completing an MFA at Oxford’s Ruskin School of Art. They think often about art — its history and its practice — in relationship to observation, memory, language, and ethics.

The Eight of Swords (Tarot Triptych)

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Name:  Interference, the Eight of Swords
Number: 8
Astrology: Jupiter in Gemini
Qabalah: Hod of Yod

Chris Gabriel April 19, 2025

Interference is the perfect name for this card. If the Ace of Swords is pure Signal, the Eight is pure Noise. The message is lost, the image is blurred, the static drowns out the song.

In Rider, we see a woman in bondage. She is blindfolded and white ropes tie up her red dress. She is standing in mud and surrounded by eight swords. A castle sits on a mountain in the distance.

In Thoth, there are two sabers atop a medley of 6 swords. The background is the deep purple of Jupiter, and the erupting fragmented spikes are the orange of Gemini. This is Jupiter in its detriment.

In Marseille,  a small flower sits at the center of eight crosshatched swords. For Jodorwosky, this was the achievement of an empty and receptive mind: overstimulation leading to trance. To Eliphas Levi, this is the Intelligence of the Prince.

The best path to grasping the nature of Interference is to take its name literally. Let us consider the two sabers in Thoth as AM and FM. These are pure and directed signals but when we listen to radio, we are often assaulted with static, which are the six interfering swords. The same applies to  VHF and UHF, AC and DC, etc. Two streams of energy disrupted by background interference.

This is the nature of the fallen Jupiter in Gemini: when domiciled in Sagittarius, Jupiter launches arrows of belief into the distant unknown. When in Gemini it gets lost in immediate multiplicity,missing the tree for the forest. The grand spiritual faculty no longer focuses on the Heavens, but on what surrounds the body.

Rider shows us a grim image of confusion, a very occult view of the situation. Without divine clarity we are blinded, bonded, and beset on all sides. This is the same trouble Hamlet is afflicted by. The Prince who has guided us through the suit of Swords has shown time and time again to lose his contact with the signal, to the point where the Ghost of his father has to return and remind him of his duty after he gets thrown off track.

We can look at this dynamic more positively with another technology, stereo sound. The Eight of Swords is like a record needle, moved wildly by left and right waves of the vinyl but still producing a singular, coherent, Sagittarian sound.

In our lives we experience this very often. When you go into a room but forget what you were going to do, this is background interference overtaking clarity. When you intend to use your phone for a given purpose, but notifications and bright visuals distract you, this is interference. It can happen at greater and greater scales to the point where you have wasted your whole life on distractions, and like the figure in Rider, you are left tied up, blinded, and alone.

When pulling this card, clear your mind, beware of external distractions, and maintain your direction.

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Chris Gabriel is a twenty four year old wizard and poet who runs the YouTube channel MemeAnalysis.

CHANNEL, SOCIAL, READINGS

How Should One Read a Book? (Pt. 1)

Guiseppe Antonio Petrini, c.1735.

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First given as a Speech at Hayes Court Common school in Kent at the start of 1926, and then adapted and published in the Yale Review the same year, Woolf’s impassioned ode to reading remains a seminal text. She reminds us that reading is not a passive activity, and that if each book only comes alive through active choices by its reader, it is worth considering how we as a consumer can elevate and enliven the literature we choose to read. The writer and reader are connected, and it is our duty to approach each new book as a different beast, to use our qualities of imagination, insight, and judgement, not rest on laurels of past works but follow our instincts to find the heart, truth, and beauty of each text anew.

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Virginia Woolf, April 15, 2025

At this late hour of the world’s history, books are to be found in almost every room of the house—in the nursery, in the drawing room, in the dining room, in the kitchen. But in some houses they have become such a company that they have to be accommodated with a room of their own—a reading room, a library, a study. Let us imagine that we are now in such a room; that it is a sunny room, with windows opening on a garden, so that we can hear the trees rustling, the gardener talking, the donkey braying, the old women gossiping at the pump—and all the ordinary processes of life pursuing the casual irregular way which they have pursued these many hundreds of years. As casually, as persistently, books have been coming together on the shelves. Novels, poems, histories, memoirs, dictionaries, maps, directories; black letter books and brand new books; books in French and Greek and Latin; of all shapes and sizes and values, bought for purposes of research, bought to amuse a railway journey, bought by miscellaneous beings, of one temperament and another, serious and frivolous, men of action and men of letters. 

Now, one may well ask oneself, strolling into such a room as this, how am I to read these books? What is the right way to set about it? They are so many and so various. My appetite is so fitful and so capricious. What am I to do to get the utmost possible pleasure out of them? And is it pleasure, or profit, or what is it that I should seek? I will lay before you some of the thoughts that have come to me on such an occasion as this. But you will notice the note of interrogation at the end of my title. One may think about reading as much as one chooses, but no one is going to lay down laws about it. Here in this room, if nowhere else, we breathe the air of freedom. Here simple and learned, man and woman are alike. For though reading seems so simple—a mere matter of knowing the alphabet—it is indeed so difficult that it is doubtful whether anybody knows anything about it. Paris is the capital of France; King John signed the Magna Charta; those are facts; those can be taught; but how are we to teach people so to read “Paradise Lost” as to see that it is a great poem, or “Tess of the D’Urbervilles” so as to see that it is a good novel? How are we to learn the art of reading for ourselves? Without attempting to lay down laws upon a subject that has not been legalized, I will make a few suggestions, which may serve to show you how not to read, or to stimulate you to think out better methods of your own. 

And directly we begin to ask how should one read a book we are faced by the fact that books differ; there are poems, novels, biographies on the book shelf there; each differs from the other as a tiger differs from a tortoise, a tortoise from an elephant. Our attitude must always be changing, it is clear. From different books we must ask different qualities. Simple as this sounds, people are always behaving as if all books were of the same species—as if there were only tortoises or nothing but tigers. It makes them furious to find a novelist bringing Queen Victoria to the throne six months before her time; they will praise a poet enthusiastically for teaching them that a violet has four petals and a daisy almost invariably ten. You will save a great deal of time and temper better kept for worthier objects if you will try to make out before you begin to read what qualities you expect of a novelist, what of a poet, what of a biographer. The tortoise is bald and shiny; the tiger has a thick coat of yellow fur. So books too differ: one has its fur, the other has its baldness.

Yes; but for all that the problem is not so simple in a library as at the Zoölogical Gardens.Books have a great deal in common; they are always overflowing their boundaries; they are always breeding new species from unexpected matches among themselves. It is difficult to know how to approach them, to which species each belongs. But if we remember, as we turn to the bookcase, that each of these books was written by a pen which, consciously or unconsciously, tried to trace out a design, avoiding this, accepting that, adventuring the other; if we try to follow the writer in his experiment from the first word to the last, without imposing our design upon him, then we shall have a good chance of getting hold of the right end of the string.

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“We have to remember that it is one of the qualities of greatness that it brings heaven and earth and human nature into conformity with its own vision.”

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To read a book well, one should read it as if one were writing it. Begin not by sitting on the bench among the judges but by standing in the dock with the criminal. Be his fellow worker, become his accomplice. Even, if you wish merely to read books, begin by writing them. For this certainly is true—one cannot write the most ordinary little story, attempt to describe the simplest event—meeting a beggar, shall we say, in the street, without coming up against difficulties that the greatest of novelists have had to face. In order that we may realize, however briefly and crudely, the main divisions into which novelists group themselves, let us imagine how differently Defoe, Jane Austen, and Thomas Hardy would describe the same incident—this meeting a beggar in the street. Defoe is a master of narrative. His prime effort will be to reduce the beggar’s story to perfect order and simplicity. This happened first, that next, the other thing third. He will put in nothing, however attractive, that will tire the reader unnecessarily, or divert his attention from what he wishes him to know. He will also make us believe, since he is a master, not of romance or of comedy, but of narrative, that everything that happened is true. He will be extremely precise therefore. This happened, as he tells us on the first pages of” Robinson Crusoe,” on the first of September. More subtly and artfully, he will hypnotize us into a state of belief by dropping out casually some little unnecessary fact—for instance, “my father called me one morning into his chamber, where he was confined by the gout.” His father’s gout is not necessary to the story, but it is necessary tothe truth of the story, for it is thus that anybody who is speaking the truth adds some small irrelevant detail without thinking. Further, he will choose a type of sentence which is flowing but not too full, exact but not epigrammatic. His aim will be to present the thing itself without distortion from his own angle of vision. He will meet the subject face to face, four-square, without turning aside for a moment to point out that this was tragic, or that beautiful; and his aim is perfectly achieved.

But let us not for a moment confuse it with Jane Austen’s aim. Had she met a beggar woman, no doubt she would have been interested in the beggar’s story. But she would have seen at once that for her purposes the whole incident must be transformed. Streets and the open air and adventures mean nothing to her, artistically. It is character that interests her. She would at once make the beggar into a comfortable elderly man of the upper middle classes, seated by his fireside at his ease. Then, instead of plunging into the story vigorously and veraciously, she will write a few paragraphs of accurate and artfully seasoned introduction, summing up the circumstances and sketching the character of the gentleman she wishes us to know. “Matrimony as the origin of change was always disagreeable” to Mr. Woodhouse, she says. Almost immediately, she thinks it well to let us see that her words are corroborated by Mr. Woodhouse himself. We hear him talking. “Poor Miss Taylor!—I wish she were here again. What a pity it is that Mr. Weston ever thought of her.” And when Mr. Woodhouse has talked enough to reveal himself from the inside, she then thinks it time to let us see him through his daughter’s eyes. “You got Hannah that good place. Nobody thought of Hannah till you mentioned her.” Thus she shows us Emma flattering him and humoring him. Finally then, we have Mr. Woodhouse’s character seen from three different points of view at once; as he sees himself; as his daughter sees him; and as he is seen by the marvellous eye of that invisible lady Jane Austen herself. All three meet in one, and thus we can pass round her characters free, apparently, from any guidance but our own.

Now let Thomas Hardy choose the same theme—a beggar met in the street—and at once two great changes will be visible. The street will be transformed into a vast and sombre heath; the man or woman will take on some of the size and indistinctness of a statue. Further, the relations of this human being will not be towards other people, but towards the heath, towards man as law-giver, towards those powers which are in control of man’s destiny. Once more our perspective will be completely changed. All the qualities which were admirable in “Robinson Crusoe,” admirable in “Emma,” will be neglected or absent. The direct literal statement of Defoe is gone. There is none of the clear, exact brilliance of Jane Austen. Indeed, if we come to Hardy from one of these great writers we shall exclaim at first that he is“melodramatic” or “unreal” compared with them. But we should bethink us that there are at least two sides to the human soul; the light side and the dark side. In company, the light side of the mind is exposed; in solitude, the dark. Both are equally real, equally important. But a novelist will always tend to expose one rather than the other; and Hardy, who is a novelist of the dark side, will contrive that no clear, steady light falls upon his people’s faces, that they are not closely observed in drawing rooms, that they come in contact with moors, sheep, the sky and the stars, and in their solitude are directly at the mercy of the gods. If Jane Austen’s characters are real in the drawing room, they would not exist at all upon the top of Stonehenge. Feeble and clumsy in drawing rooms, Hardy’s people are large-limbed and vigorous out of doors. To achieve his purpose Hardy is neither literal and four-square like Defoe, nor deft and pointed like Jane Austen. He is cumbrous, involved, metaphorical.Where Jane Austen describes manners, he describes nature. Where she is matter of fact, he is romantic and poetical. As both are great artists, each is careful to observe the laws of his own perspective, and will not be found confusing us (as so many lesser writers do) by introducing two different kinds of reality into the same book.

Yet it is very difficult not to wish them less scrupulous. Frequent are the complaints that Jane Austen is too prosaic, Thomas Hardy too melodramatic. And we have to remind ourselves that it is necessary to approach every writer differently in order to get from him all he can give us. We have to remember that it is one of the qualities of greatness that it brings heaven and earth and human nature into conformity with its own vision. It is by reason of this masterliness of theirs, this uncompromising idiosyncrasy, that great writers often require us to make heroic efforts in order to read them rightly. They bend us and break us. To go from Jane Austen to Hardy, from Peacock to Trollope, from Scott to Meredith, from Richardson to Kipling, is to be wrenched and distorted, thrown this way and then that. Besides, everyone is born with a natural bias of his own in one direction rather than in another. He instinctively accepts Hardy’s vision rather than Jane Austen’s, and, reading with the current and not against it, is carried on easily and swiftly by the impetus of his own bent to the heart of his author’s genius. But then Jane Austen is repulsive to him. He can scarcely stagger through the desert of her novels.

Sometimes this natural antagonism is too great to be overcome, but trial is always worth making. For these difficult and inaccessible books, with all their preliminary harshness, often yield the richest fruits in the end, and so curiously is the brain compounded that while tracts of literature repel at one season, they are appetizing and essential at another.

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Virginia Woolf (1882-1941) was an English writer and one of the most influential 20th century modernist authors. An important part of the contemporary literary scene, Woolf’s relevance has only grown in the near century since her passing, and her pioneering essays on artistic theory, literary history, women's writing, and the politics of power have become touchstones for contemporary thought.

The Ace of Swords (Tarot Triptych)

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Name:  Ace of Swords
Number: 1
Astrology: Air
Qabalah: Kether of Vau

Chris Gabriel April 12, 2025

The Ace of Swords is the card of inspiration. It is the air we inhale and the divine ideas which are given to us. Here is the perfect image of a dual crown pierced by a sword.

In Rider, a hand comes forth from a cloud bearing a sword. The sword holds up a crown upon which two laurels sit, one is fuller than the other. The landscape is barren and mountainous. Six yellow yods float about the hilt.

In Thoth, we have Crowley’s own sword, green in color with a hilt made of the waxing and waning moons, between which two spheres sit. Its blade bears the word θέλημα (Thelema, or Will). The crown which it penetrates has 22 rays, one for each letter of the Hebrew alphabet. The background is a cloudy night made bright by the sword.

In Marseille, we are shown a hand holding a great red sword piercing a crown. Two distinct branches grow from the crown. Many yods emanate from the sword.

Napoleon said “I found the crown of France in the gutter. I picked it up with the tip of my sword, and cleaned it, and placed it atop my own head.” 

Here,the crown is raised by the sword, the dual drives of nature lifted up by Intelligence. In each representation, the crown is dual, formed by the Yin and Yang of Water and Fire - the elements which precede Air, and are more base in nature. This is also the two lungs, the two hemispheres of the brain, and so on. Fire and Water are universals, but Air is peculiar, ubiquitous but invisible, and we each breathe our own yet we all share. The Ace of Swords we see the beginning of “Individuality” in the deck. 

While God moves the Universe with light and dark, he moves individuals with his breath. The Greek word for “Inspiration” is θεόπνευστος which literally translates to God-breathed. It is through Pneuma, the divine breath, that we are given our destiny. 

The Sword is the image of the divine intellect which pierces the mystery of nature. While fire, earth, and water  are visible, air is invisible, and so the Sword, which cuts through the air, is chosen. With our intellect we can cut up our simple perceptions and make sense of what is happening around us. Through this we begin to categorize and understand, to think, and to create our own ideas, to craft our own swords. In the material world, this is the weapon we lead with to achieve.

The Ace of Swords is like the cartoon light bulb above a head, it is a eureka moment, when God-given ideas are breathed into us. Yet, it can also be a terrible idea, which as a sword, pierces our brain. Macbeth’s indecision is put to an end by his vision of a dagger.

In a mundane deck of playing cards the Ace of Swords becomes the Ace of Spades, the most notorious card in the deck. To all superstitious gamblers, it means death. Alejandro Jodorowsky says that a poker deck is a tarot deck stripped of Divinity; the 22 majors and the 4 faces of the Tetragrammaton. At this level, the Sword is only something to kill with.

When we pull this card we can expect success, we will receive inspiration, and cut through confusion and indecision. But be careful, the sword is double edged and will just as easily divide us if we are not moving with will.

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Chris Gabriel is a twenty four year old wizard and poet who runs the YouTube channel MemeAnalysis.

CHANNEL, SOCIAL, READINGS

Vibrational Medicine and the Multidimensional Human

Thought-Forms, 1901. Annie Besant and Charles Leadbeater.

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Molly Hankins April 10, 2025

The theory of fundamental consciousness, which states that consciousness is a fundamental aspect of reality as opposed to merely being a byproduct of the brain, carries with it the implication that there may be a direct influence on our physiology. Scientists such as Donald Hoffman, who has popularized this theory over the last several years via his book The Case Against Reality, is cautious about making claims as to its medical implications but as this theory is working its way through mainstream media via The Telepathy Tapes podcast, more and more anecdotal evidence is mounting and more questions are being raised about the role our consciousness plays in our anatomical functionality. 

Nearly 40 years ago, Dr. Richard Gerber published a book called Vibrational Medicine that makes a case for treating physical ailments using non-physical means and speaks to much of the phenomena discussed in The Telepathy Tapes. If you haven’t listened to the podcast yet, it focuses on the personal stories and the scientific study of extraordinary human abilities possessed by members of the non-verbal autistic community, including telepathy. Later episodes explore the growing body of evidence about similar telepathic abilities in other non-speakers, including advanced dementia and terminally ill patients, as well as animals. The concept of an ‘energy body’ is mentioned repeatedly throughout the program by parents and caregivers of non-speakers, and according to Gerber’s research, energy body systems contain the data that coordinate physiological activity.

If we subscribe to the theory that consciousness is fundamental, and therefore creating physical reality, then it must be true that our state of consciousness influences how our bodies function. Gerber references the work of Dr. Itzhak Bentov and Dr. William Tiller, both of whom studied the human energy field and determined that there are several overlapping, higher-dimensional energetic systems working together to direct our physiological experience of reality. They identify four layers of the energy body that overlay the physical, which directly corresponds with that Kabbalistic concept that we have four non-physical levels of consciousness animating our bodies. Each layer is explained below:

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“In order for our physiology to play its beautiful symphony, we must harmonize each octave of our energy body.”

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Nefesh - Physical Body 

This is our lowest level of consciousness, offering awareness of our physical bodies and the physical world. How our physical bodies operate is determined by interactions between the following energy fields. 

Ruach - Etheric Body

This first layer of our energy body contains data from the emotional experiences of our present lifetime. Its influence explains why emotional distress disrupts natural functions like immune system response, hormonal and cellular activity. Gerber refers to the relationship between the etheric body and physical body as an “interference pattern” that determines our overall level of health.

Neshama - Mental Body

The second layer gives us an  intellectual understanding of the essential nature of the human experience. In order to operate efficiently, this consciousness field must evolve over many lifetimes to move beyond   perception with just five senses and open ourselves up to perception beyond what Tiller refers to as “the world of appearances.”

Chaya - Astral Body

This third layer transcends intellectual understanding to include that expanded perspective where we merge our individual consciousness with that of The Creator. This is where the character of our soul lies. According to Gerber, “The astral body is a containment vehicle for the personality beyond the transition of physical death.”

Yechida - Causal Body

The fourth and final layer is the element of our soul  that is still connected to The Creator and, according to Kabbalists, is one of pure light. Bentov regarded this field as a holistic, emotional energy body containing all the experiences of our soul, or what Vedic traditions call the Akashic field. 

In Vibrational Medicine, Gerber uses the analogy of piano keys, likening the layers of our energy bodies to octaves of consciousness. He refers to the lowest keys as Nefesh, or the physical octave of experience. The highest keys are  that of Yechida, or the causal octave. In order for our physiology to play its beautiful symphony, we must harmonize each octave of our energy body. We can accomplish this using meditation, our breath, prayer, tuning forks, mindfulness practices, spending time in nature, or consciously reprogramming ourselves using mantras, affirmations, movement and music. Each method is a different means of repatterning these conscious energy fields to positively influence our experience of reality. 

The Telepathy Tapes have created  a swell of support for consciousness fundamentalists like Donald Hoffman, and started a repatterning of the scientific paradigm. As public support grows and funding opportunities expand, research on these ideas will be brought out of the theoretical fringes and into empirical testing. Our understanding of human biology as a series of interactive multi-dimensional fields may someday be understood and refined into a scientifically proven protocol for so-called vibrational medicine. But we don’t have to wait for science to catch up with our conscious evolution to enjoy the benefits of harmonizing our energy fields with our physical body, we can begin with the techniques discussed above right now. 

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Molly Hankins is an Initiate + Reality Hacker serving the Ministry of Quantum Existentialism and Builders of the Adytum.

Lift (Museum of Suspense I)

The Extasis of Jean Birelle, Vicente Carducho, 1626–1632, oil on canvas, Cartuja de Santa María de El Paular, Museo de la Trinidad, Rascafría (Madrid); Museo del Prado.

Ale Nodarse April 8, 2025

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When was your belief last suspended? 

A whole museum could be built on suspense. By this I mean a place for pictures devoted to the floating figure. Its halls would be wide and its ceilings high, for there have been many drawn to the sky: gods and demigods, angels of every stripe, fellow humans disposed to makeshift wings. There would be space for them all. 

Just picture the stretch of Icaruses. Over and again, those Greek boys with wax-bound feathers would rise to cast glorious bird-shadows on oceans below. There would be flight after flight after flight. Only then, nearest to the exit, would one Icarus tumble down. He would fall as Pieter Brueghel had once painted him falling — falling, fallen, then swallowed up by an unfeeling sea.¹ And perhaps the words of W. H. Auden would be read upon a pamphlet or recited by a melancholic guide:

In Breughel’s Icarus, for instance: how everything turns away 
Quite leisurely from the disaster; the ploughman may
Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry,
But for him it was not an important failure; the sun shone
As it had to on the white legs disappearing into the green 
Water; and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen
Something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky, 
Had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on.²

The saints would crowd the walls like starlings. Off they go, a young viewer might imagine, if not for the constraints of canvases and ceilings. Children would have no trouble picturing it. Neither would most adults. Flight has prevailed within dreams for as long as dreams have been recorded — and the prevalence, according to neuroscientists, is on the rise.³ Do saints fly? The question has been asked many times.⁴ Often, it seems, language stands in the way. Perhaps “flight” may be the wrong word. Since saints are not usually birds, many theologians and historians of religion prefer levitation: this, the summa of ecstasies. 

In the Extasis of Jean Birelle (1626–1632) by the Spanish painter Vicente Carducho, a fourteenth-century monk rises above an Islamicate rug.⁵ His hat and shadow fall beneath him. The regularity of gridded ground gives way to sudden lift. But the saint does not quite fly. Instead, the painting sustains a moment of physical and psychological suspense — of doubt. 

The painting speaks not only to the dubiousness of human flight, but to those doubts which surface in our more routine undertakings. Carducho includes another scene to the right of the floating figure. Set beyond a bannister, a white-robed saint robe grasps the hand of a younger man. The saint is Jean, and the scene is a memory. The painter gives witness to an earlier moment in Jean’s biography when he had encouraged a novice, ready to abandon monastic life, to stay the course. This picture within a picture becomes an image of doubt and the moment of its assuaging. 

Certain paintings sustain suspense. The eloquence of Carducho’s painting is in part its drawing together of doubts and its defiance of them. How often, we might ask, has the inconceivable been transformed or at least been made bearable by an outstretched hand? Within the Museum of Suspense, this painting would encourage us to dwell on doubt: to reconcile, rather than abandon, it. To look closely at the canvas, we would draw doubt near. Perhaps then we might regard doubt itself as both necessary and miraculous: as necessary as a loving grasp, as miraculous as mortal flight.

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¹The authorship of Landscape with the Fall of Icarus (Musée des Beaux Arts, Brussels) remains a matter of debate. Most scholars believe that the painting was completed by a follower of Pieter Brueghel the Elder after an original composition, now lost.
²W. H. Auden, “Musée des Beaux Arts.”
³See Michael Schredl and Edgar Piel, “Prevalence of Flying Dreams,” Perceptual Motor Skills (2007): 657–660.
⁴Carlos Eire, They Flew: A History of the Impossible (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2025). 
⁵ This scene is one of many (fifty four) representing the history of the Carthusian Order in Spain, completed by Carducho for the Monastery of El Paular in Rascafría, Spain. On this painting and the larger series, see Leticia Ruiz Gómez, La recuperación de El Paular (Madrid, 2013), 185–190.

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Alejandro (Ale) Nodarse Jammal is an artist and art historian. They are a Ph.D. Candidate in History of Art & Architecture at Harvard University and are completing an MFA at Oxford’s Ruskin School of Art. They think often about art — its history and its practice — in relationship to observation, memory, language, and ethics.

The Five of Cups (Tarot Triptych)

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Name:  Disappointment, the Five of Cups
Number: 5
Astrology: Mars in Scorpio
Qabalah: Gevurah of He

Chris Gabriel April 5, 2025

The Five of Cups is the spilling out of all we have accumulated. It is the glass half empty and the fly who drowns in a fine wine. It is the card of trying and failing to get what you want.

In Rider, a man in a black cloak looks down upon three spilled cups, while two still stand behind him. The sky is grey. He cares not for what he has, only what he has lost. He is “crying over spilt milk”.

In Thoth, we have an arrangement of cups reminiscent of the biomechanical art of H.R Giger. They appear almost as an alchemical laboratory, each connected by pipes in the shape of a pentagram. Below them is a sick, stagnant water, and above them is a rust red sky. Two lotuses arise from the lowest cup but are already withering away. Two lily pads droop down above the rest.

In Marseille, we are shown five cups around which flowers grow. A plant below brings forth two flowers, and there is a poppy growing from the central cup. Qabalistically, this is the Severity of the Queen.

This is a card of realization of rough awakenings. The calm comfort of the four of cups is broken, and we are thrust into a harsh reality. This is the misery and regret that follows a heartbreak. 

The cloaked figure in Rider seems to me to be a perfect image of the young poet Arthur Rimbaud. “One evening, I sat Beauty on my knees - and I found her bitter - And I insulted her.” Rimbaud falls from his simple, pleasant life of banquets and goes straight to Hell.

As the Six of Cups is the Goldilocks zone, where things are just right, the Five of Cups is not enough. It is an unsatisfying meal - spoiled food, sour milk, and a rough bed. It is incapable of satisfying us.

As Mars in Scorpio, there is an element of resentment and rage that comes from this dissatisfaction. This is not the sort of anger that leads to revolutions, but petty crimes of passion; scorned lovers who yearn for blood or those who kill out of desire for what they feel they have been denied.

Wilhelm Reich describes how young people who go unloved will develop bizarre illusions about themselves, imagining defects where there are none. Thoth shows well the sort of perverse libidinal machinery that is formed by disappointment and ressentiment (the bitterness that feelings of inferiority breed). 

When drawing this card, we must be careful that our disappointments and jealousies do not grow strong like a poison tree. This card lets us know we will be faced with failures, with not getting what we need and want, but we mustn't strike out. Instead, let the bitterness fade. As Blake says in A Poison Tree:

I was angry with my friend; 
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe: 
I told it not, my wrath did grow. 

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Chris Gabriel is a twenty four year old wizard and poet who runs the YouTube channel MemeAnalysis.

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Oulipo and The Creativity of Limitation

Liminal Poem for Martin Gardner, 1981. Harry Matthews.

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Louis Boero April 3, 2025

There is no such thing as inspiration, only constraint. This is the maxim, conjured in Paris’s mid-century cafe culture, that launch the most radical literary movement of the 20th century. Oulipo, short for Ouvroir de Littérature Potentielle, or "School of Potential Literature," is a literary movement founded in 1960 by mathematician François Le Lionnais and writer Raymond Queneau. At its core is the belief that constraints in writing are not limitations but opportunities, a way to unlock new creative possibilities. Unlike movements that emphasize raw inspiration or spontaneity, Oulipo treats literature as a structured process, where self-imposed rules and formal techniques shape and expand the act of storytelling.

The origins lie in the intersection of literature and mathematics. Le Lionnais and Queneau, both fascinated by patterns, sought to explore how structures could guide artistic creation. Their clearest historical touchstone was the sonnet; constrained by a rigid structure that required 14 lines of iambic pentameter, a rhyme scheme of three quatrains and a couplet, and a narrative turn in the 8th or 9th line, of all formats the sonnet allows its writer the least freedom. And yet, Queneau thought, it has produced an outsized percentage of the most writing in history. Writing, Queneau saw, has long been a process of limitation, it simply had not been explicitly about this. They were not rejecting the past but in discovering hidden formulas within it, reviving forgotten constraints, and inventing new ones. They saw themselves as "rats who build the labyrinth from which they will try to escape”. Literature, for Queneau and Le Lionnais, was not a wild stream to be navigated instinctually but a puzzle, a game, an equation whose unknown variables the writer must solve.

As the group developed, members created increasingly complicated, difficult and absurd constraints, with each producing, if not always successful, increasingly interesting results. One of the best-known Oulipian techniques is the lipogram, a text that avoids a particular letter. Georges Perec, one of the group’s most famous members, wrote La Disparition (A Void), a full-length novel that never uses the letter "e." The omission, far from being a gimmick, becomes thematically significant - the book is a mystery novel, with a detective searching for something missing that he can never find.

Another hallmark of Oulipo is explorative variation, where the constraint is found in subject and total freedom is granted in the language to describe the prescribes subject. This style of writing is exemplified in Queneau’s Exercises in Style. In this work, a simple anecdote about a man on a bus is retold in ninety-nine different ways, demonstrating the endless flexibility of language. The idea that style, tone, and form can radically reshape meaning is central to the Oulipian philosophy. Their constraints are not rigid rules but tools that force the writer to think differently, much like how a poet working within the sonnet form must find creative ways to express an idea within its strict structure.

Beyond individual techniques, Oulipo explores broader mathematical and algorithmic structures. Members have experimented with palindromes, sestinas, Fibonacci sequences, and even invented new poetic forms, such as the “snowball,” where each line grows by one letter at a time. Italo Calvino, another key figure and the writer who broke through to the widest audience, his shadow looming larger than the whole group, integrated Oulipian ideas into his novels, particularly If on a winter’s night a traveler, a work that constantly reframes its own narrative, shifting expectations with each chapter.

Though Oulipo began as a small group of French writers, its influence has spread widely. Digital literature, algorithmic poetry, and interactive fiction all owe a debt to its principles. The concept of constrained writing has found a home in computer-generated texts and artificial intelligence-assisted storytelling, where structured limitations guide unpredictable results.

Unlike other literary movements, Oulipo does not operate through manifestos or ideological declarations. It is not a rejection of tradition but an ongoing investigation into the mechanics of language. Writers working within its framework see constraints as a means of expanding expression rather than narrowing it. The beauty of Oulipo is that it offers an open invitation to any writer willing to experiment. Try writing a story where no word contains the letter "a." Rewrite a passage in a hundred different styles. Construct a poem where each line follows a mathematical sequence. The rules may seem restrictive at first, but within them lies a paradox: the more you limit yourself, the more your creativity grows.

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Louis Boero is a writer and critic.

Some Thoughts on the Common Toad

Schnieder’s Toad. Iconographia Zoologica, c.1881.

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First published in Tribune, in April of 1946, just one year after the end of the Second World War, George Orwell’s thoughts on the humble toad become an ode to nature, and the enduring beauty of the world in times of hardship. As with almost all of the great English writer’s works, this essay is concerned with ideas of class inequalities within society. Adamantly opposed throughout his life to all forms of totalitarianism, both on the right and left of politics, he was an ardent democratic socialist whose writing was his form of activism. ‘Some Thoughts on the Common Toad’ has Orwell’s mastery of prose on full display, elegantly singing the praises of the amphibian, heralding the joys of spring, and reminding the reader that the lifeblood of existence is in the natural world, and we are more a part of it than the powers that be may want us to believe.

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George Orwell, April 1, 2025

Before the swallow, before the daffodil, and not much later than the snowdrop, the common toad salutes the coming of spring after his own fashion, which is to emerge from a hole in the ground, where he has lain buried since the previous autumn, and crawl as rapidly as possible towards the nearest suitable patch of water. Something – some kind of shudder in the earth, or perhaps merely a rise of a few degrees in the temperature – has told him that it is time to wake up: though a few toads appear to sleep the clock round and miss out a year from time to time – at any rate, I have more than once dug them up, alive and apparently well, in the middle of the summer.

At this period, after his long fast, the toad has a very spiritual look, like a strict Anglo-Catholic towards the end of Lent. His movements are languid but purposeful, his body is shrunken, and by contrast his eyes look abnormally large. This allows one to notice, what one might not at another time, that a toad has about the most beautiful eye of any living creature. It is like gold, or more exactly it is like the golden-coloured semi-precious stone which one sometimes sees in signet rings, and which I think is called a chrysoberyl.

For a few days after getting into the water the toad concentrates on building up his strength by eating small insects. Presently he has swollen to his normal size again, and then he goes through a phase of intense sexiness. All he knows, at least if he is a male toad, is that he wants to get his arms round something, and if you offer him a stick, or even your finger, he will cling to it with surprising strength and take a long time to discover that it is not a female toad. Frequently one comes upon shapeless masses of ten or twenty toads rolling over and over in the water, one clinging to another without distinction of sex. By degrees, however, they sort themselves out into couples, with the male duly sitting on the female’s back. You can now distinguish males from females, because the male is smaller, darker and sits on top, with his arms tightly clasped round the female’s neck. After a day or two the spawn is laid in long strings which wind themselves in and out of the reeds and soon become invisible. A few more weeks, and the water is alive with masses of tiny tadpoles which rapidly grow larger, sprout hind-legs, then forelegs, then shed their tails: and finally, about the middle of the summer, the new generation of toads, smaller than one’s thumb-nail but perfect in every particular, crawl out of the water to begin the game anew.

I mention the spawning of the toads because it is one of the phenomena of Spring which most deeply appeal to me, and because the toad, unlike the skylark and the primrose, has never had much of a boost from poets. But I am aware that many people do not like reptiles or amphibians, and I am not suggesting that in order to enjoy the spring you have to take an interest in toads. There are also the crocus, the missel thrush, the cuckoo, the blackthorn, etc. The point is that the pleasures of spring are available to everybody, and cost nothing. Even in the most sordid street the coming of spring will register itself by some sign or other, if it is only a brighter blue between the chimney pots or the vivid green of an elder sprouting on a blitzed site. Indeed it is remarkable how Nature goes on existing unofficially, as it were, in the very heart of London. I have seen a kestrel flying over the Deptford gasworks, and I have heard a first-rate performance by a blackbird in the Euston Road. There must be some hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of birds living inside the four-mile radius, and it is rather a pleasing thought that none of them pays a halfpenny of rent.

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“Is it politically reprehensible… to point out that life is frequently more worth living because of a blackbird’s song, a yellow elm tree in October, or some other natural phenomenon which does not cost money’

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As for Spring, not even the narrow and gloomy streets round the Bank of England are quite able to exclude it. It comes seeping in everywhere, like one of those new poison gases which pass through all filters. The spring is commonly referred to as “a miracle,” and during the past five or six years this worn-out figure of speech has taken on a new lease of life. After the sort of winters we have had to endure recently, the spring does seem miraculous, because it has become gradually harder and harder to believe that it is actually going to happen. Every February since 1940 I have found myself thinking that this time Winter is going to be permanent. But Persephone, like the toads, always rises from the dead at about the same moment. Suddenly, towards the end of March, the miracle happens and the decaying slum in which I live is transfigured. Down in the square the sooty privets have turned bright green, the leaves are thickening on the chestnut trees, the daffodils are out, the wallflowers are budding, the policeman’s tunic looks positively a pleasant shade of blue, the fishmonger greets his customers with a smile, and even the sparrows are quite a different colour, having felt the balminess of the air and nerved themselves to take a bath, their first since last September.

Is it wicked to take a pleasure in Spring and other seasonal changes? To put it more precisely, is it politically reprehensible, while we are all groaning, or at any rate ought to be groaning, under the shackles of the capitalist system, to point out that life is frequently more worth living because of a blackbird’s song, a yellow elm tree in October, or some other natural phenomenon which does not cost money and does not have what the editors of left-wing newspapers call a class angle? There is no doubt that many people think so. I know by experience that a favourable reference to “Nature” in one of my articles is liable to bring me abusive letters, and though the key-word in these letters is usually “sentimental”, two ideas seem to be mixed up in them. One is that any pleasure in the actual process of life encourages a sort of political quietism. People, so the thought runs, ought to be discontented, and it is our job to multiply our wants and not simply to increase our enjoyment of the things we have already. The other idea is that this is the age of machines and that to dislike the machine, or even to want to limit its domination, is backward-looking, reactionary and slightly ridiculous. This is often backed up by the statement that a love of Nature is a foible of urbanised people who have no notion what Nature is really like. Those who really have to deal with the soil, so it is argued, do not love the soil, and do not take the faintest interest in birds or flowers, except from a strictly utilitarian point of view. To love the country one must live in the town, merely taking an occasional week-end ramble at the warmer times of year.

This last idea is demonstrably false. Medieval literature, for instance, including the popular ballads, is full of an almost Georgian enthusiasm for Nature, and the art of agricultural peoples such as the Chinese and Japanese centre always round trees, birds, flowers, rivers, mountains. The other idea seems to me to be wrong in a subtler way. Certainly we ought to be discontented, we ought not simply to find out ways of making the best of a bad job, and yet if we kill all pleasure in the actual process of life, what sort of future are we preparing for ourselves? If a man cannot enjoy the return of Spring, why should he be happy in a labour-saving Utopia? What will he do with the leisure that the machine will give him? I have always suspected that if our economic and political problems are ever really solved, life will become simpler instead of more complex, and that the sort of pleasure one gets from finding the first primrose will loom larger than the sort of pleasure one gets from eating an ice to the tune of a Wurlitzer. I think that by retaining one’s childhood love of such things as trees, fishes, butterflies and – to return to my first instance – toads, one makes a peaceful and decent future a little more probable, and that by preaching the doctrine that nothing is to be admired except steel and concrete, one merely makes it a little surer that human beings will have no outlet for their surplus energy except in hatred and leader worship.

At any rate, spring is here, even in London N1, and they can’t stop you enjoying it. This is a satisfying reflection. How many a time have I stood watching the toads mating, or a pair of hares having a boxing match in the young corn, and thought of all the important persons who would stop me enjoying this if they could. But luckily they can’t. So long as you are not actually ill, hungry, frightened or immured in a prison or a holiday camp, Spring is still Spring. The atom bombs are piling up in the factories, the police are prowling through the cities, the lies are streaming from the loudspeakers, but the earth is still going round the sun, and neither the dictators nor the bureaucrats, deeply as they disapprove of the process, are able to prevent it.

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George Orwell (1903-1950) was an English novelist, poet, essayist, journalist, and critic. Best known for his allegorical and dystopian works Animal Farm and 1984, his written oeuvre spans genre and medium but is consistently displays a level of social criticism with a deep emphasis on class struggle around the world.

The Two of Wands (Tarot Triptych)

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Name:  Dominion, the Two of Wands
Number: 2
Astrology: Mars in Aries
Qabalah: Chokmah of Yod

Chris Gabriel March 29, 2025

The Two of Wands is the card of childish will - the desire to take, to hold, and to say yes or no. This card is how we begin to make our way in the world and learn to control our environment.

In Rider, a man in red looks out from a castle wall over an expanse of sea and mountains. Beside him are two wands, and in his hand is a globe. He desires to control the world, to move ships, goods, men, and to expand his influence and power.

In Thoth, we have two large Dorjes: Buddhist wands symbolizing the power of thunder and the strength of the diamond. They are crossed, and from them six flames emit. The card is astrologically given to Mars in Aries.

In Marseille, we have two crossed wands. Four leaves emerge from the center, and two uprooted flowers frame the top and bottom. Qabalistically, the card is the Wisdom of the King.

The Wisdom of the King is Dominion.

Just as the Two of Swords relates to a child’s legs and first steps they take, the Two of Wands is the arms, the hands, and, ultimately, the fists. As the baby of the zodiac,  Aries is the  child who quickly  learns how to get what they want, to reach out and grab it,  and how to push away and reject what they do not want. To be safe and comfortable they need to control their environment. This is the force of Mars in Aries, the childish will applied to everything.

Just as children like to get what they want, so too do Kings. Their simple desires are sated, and their complex desires are worked towards by the people. This is often a desire for larger and larger dominions. 

Alexander the Great conquered out of a pure and childlike will, and wept when he had no land left to conquer, no new toys to play with. Heraclitus and Shakespeare alike recognized the childlike character of the Gods, that their wills were playful and fickle. The world, and the people therein are simply toys to exert the will upon.

The Rider card gives a fantastic image of this, the great globe itself reduced to a toy ball. This is shown perfectly when Charlie Chaplin’s Great Dictator plays with an inflatable globe. It is the pure, simple, childish will that wants world domination. 

While many great and terrible men have tried this, it is exceedingly rare that any of us will meet people like this. In our lives, this force appears as domineering individuals who want to control what’s around them, be it a neighborhood, a workplace, a house, or, especially, a relationship. We have all met very controlling people, this card shows us this desire for control is innate and childish.

When we pull this card, we can expect to deal with controlling figures, or a conflict of our own. Whether you decide to get out of the way or get your way, consider what it is that you will.

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Chris Gabriel is a twenty four year old wizard and poet who runs the YouTube channel MemeAnalysis.

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Ascension is Now

Très Riches Heures du Duc de Berry, c. 1410.

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Molly Hankins March 27, 2025

Countless ancient cultures prophesied a time when the human race would  expand their consciousness and ascend into a higher frequency of existence. Commonly referred to as ascension, the major increase in anomalous activity of solar flares and magnetic fluctuations over the last 18 months are physical indicators that this process is well underway. The spiritual teacher Drunvalo Melchizedek has spent most of his life writing and teaching about how to prepare for this ascension. He understands it as a  shift from living in the head to our hearts and primarily identifying as part of the whole of life instead of as separate individuals. 

While a  more fundamentalist Christian take refers to this as  the rapture or end-times, Drunvalo’s interpretation of ascension is about integrating with different layers of reality via a shift in awareness that occurs internally. Both interpretations point to dramatic shifts in the physical world, but rather than those changes resulting in souls being raptured to heaven, ascension says this shift in consciousness and dimensional integration will result in humans creating heaven on Earth.

As of the date of publication of this article, we are between a lunar full-moon eclipse in Virgo, a practical, detail-oriented Earth sign, and a solar eclipse in Aries, an initiatory fire energy during a new moon. This period marks what Tibetan Buddhists call the Bardo - the period between death and rebirth - and it has a supercharged energy for cleansing destructive patterns. Across personal lives, global events, and scientific activity we notice new patterns are becoming the norm. In 2023 there were 13 X-class solar flares, which is the largest measurable class, well within the average annual range. In 2024 there were 50 and as of February of 2025, we’ve experienced 4.

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“What is happening at the macro planetary scale must also be happening at the micro-scale within us.”

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Oscillations in Earth’s electromagnetic field, known as Schumann resonance, have shown extreme fluctuation particularly since the lunar eclipse on March 14th. There has been a major increase in data blackouts, which means the incoming frequency exceeds the threshold our measuring devices can interpret. Induction coils, made of an iron core surrounded by thousands of insulated copper coils that are sensitive to rapid magnetic field fluctuations,  can seemingly detect energy only within a fixed range of parameters. We are currently living through a new era where our planet’s electromagnetic frequency is beginning to move beyond those measurable parameters more regularly.

These fluctuations are usually attributed by the scientific community to be the result of solar storms, geomagnetic activity and environmental factors, and yet lately we are seeing entirely new patterns of data. Still baffled by the discrepancies between Newtonian, Earthly physics and quantum mechanics, our current model of scientific understanding cannot account for the multidimensional upgrades taking place. Drunvalo’s teachings point to a theory that the fabric of our electromagnetic field is evolving along with our consciousness, experiencing a new range of harmonics beyond what can presently be measured.

In keeping with the famous occult axiom, “As above, so below,” what is happening at the macro planetary scale must also be happening at the micro-scale within us. This period of time between eclipses is what numerologist and astrologist Kaitlyn Kaerhart calls a realignment. In her Aries solar eclipse guide she writes, “Eclipses are wild cards. They open fated doors, close outdated timelines and rearrange reality in ways we don’t usually see coming. Aries is the sign of of selfhood, instinct, initiation and raw courage, and that’s exactly what’s being activated in all of us. This eclipse also falls on the Aries-Libra axis, so it’s not just about you. It’s about you in relation to others.” 

The solar eclipse this week also falls in the fourth week of the month, and according to Kaerhart, four energy is all about embracing a steady rhythm to create stability through structure and lay strong foundations for what’s to come. She recommends meditation, body movement and being in nature as a means of aligning with these changes so they become part of a strong foundation for our ascension of consciousness. As Drunvalo says, “When you are in your heart, nothing needs to be done to bring change. It will happen automatically and with grace.”

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Molly Hankins is an Initiate + Reality Hacker serving the Ministry of Quantum Existentialism and Builders of the Adytum.

The Power of Fear

The Nightmare, Henry Fuseli. 1781.

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Suzanne Stabile March 25, 2025

I’m mindful that when I gather with my colleagues at an event that includes several keynote speakers, each of whom are speaking from their expertise, that I’m likely to be well received.  While others  talk about topics such as scripture, prayer, theology or perhaps cultural challenges that we face, I am talking to people about their preferred topic: themselves.  We all like to know more about ourselves, to understand why we do the very things we seem to not want to do, and to change ourselves for the better;  we just don’t know how to make the necessary adjustments.

In this series of articles, I’m exploring the emotions of shame, fear and anger as they are related to Enneagram wisdom.  Each of us  experience all three, and so we must have a healthy respect for each and use it for its value, acknowledge how each can be  helpful and harmful.  In addition, we need to be mindful of their power without allowing them unnecessary and unwanted influence in our lives.

Shame or fear or anger are respectively  the default emotions for each personality type.  For Enneagram Fives, Sixes and Sevens - the numbers that make up the Head or Thinking Triad - fear informs how they see themselves, others and the world.  If your Enneagram Number is within this Triad, it will be helpful for you to know what fear looks like and how you can manage the ways it shows up in your life.

I have often found that the stories we tell about ourselves and those we love help us become  more of who we want to be and less of who we struggle to defend.  My husband Joe is a truly gifted pastor, but he is also quite good looking and attracts attention from other women.  I usually handle it well but at one point when I was struggling with some professional choices in my work, I found myself over-focused on one woman’s  behavior and her desire for Joe’s attention.  

We both believe and teach that every person can benefit from having a therapist and a spiritual director and so I took the question as to why I was struggling to my therapist.   I guess I must have gotten a little whipped up because after a while he said, “Are you about finished with your need to talk about her?”  

Annoyed, I replied, “I might be. Why?”   

“Well, I wonder if we might want to explore why you are hanging all of your anxiety on that poor woman’s bones.” 

Anxiety in all nine Enneagram Numbers is transformed into either anger, fear or shame.  In thinking about and learning from fear, it is helpful for all three numbers in the triad to remember this:

A Seven’s fear is usually focused inward.  They are afraid of what they might discover within themselves.  Fives are fearful of the outside world and their ability to navigate safely.  Sixes are fearful of both, moving back and forth between the two.  Regardless of your Enneagram number, we need to be willing to observe our resistance to reality, our attachment to self-image, and our fear.  All three apply to everyone but Fear is especially problematic for Fives, Sixes and Sevens.

Sandra Maitri described the fear of a Five in one sentence, “Fives are afraid of engulfment.”  They maintain a private inner world,  observing rather than actively participating in what goes on around them, perhaps as a means of protection. This is  driven by an inner sense of scarcity and emptiness.  Afraid that nothing will be coming to them from the outside, they “act” like they don’t want anything and don’t care.  They can begin to believe their own performance and thus  limit their expressions of wishes and desires.

Fear causes fives to become observers of life rather than active participants.  They are run from too much engagement and too much involvement.  Part of the reason for this is that they have a limited amount of energy and every encounter of any kind uses the  resource that they fear will be depleted before they get back to the safety of what is usually known and predictable.

Sixes, on the other hand, are coping with anxiety instead of fear, though the two often get conflated.  Anxiety is about possible futures and that is where most of the mental energy of a Six is invested.  They tend to deal with their anxious feelings by finding someone or something to connect with that offers a bedrock of safety.  

This can regrettably cause Sixes to trust neither themselves or anyone else.   Those not trusting themselves are referred to as Phobic Sixes.  They are overly fearful and as a result they often give their allegiance to structures and belief systems.  Those not trusting others are known as Counter-phobic, meaning they are intent on proving they are not afraid by conquering the fears that hold the most power over them.

Sevens manage their fear with a smokescreen of activity.  They are the Number on the Enneagram that can reframe any negative into a positive almost instantly.  To experience anything as other than it should be threatens to bring up buried pain and unresolved grief.  Sevens live in the magical world of their imaginations where all is, or shall be, well.

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“A quiet mind is a place of knowing and guidance that gives us confidence to act in the world.  And when these qualities are unreachable, we feel fear.”

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The Thinking triad is about finding a sense of inner guidance and support.  And it is a very challenging proposition because these personality types have lost touch with what we refer to in the spiritual tradition as the quiet mind.  These are the people who trust what is in their heads over feelings or doing.  When they are in their Personality, the mind is not naturally quiet nor is it naturally “knowing.”  Instead, it is looking for a strategy that will make it feel, at the very least, okay enough to function in the world.

Our minds have the potential to help us settle down, help us feel supported and safely aware.   A quiet mind is a place of knowing and guidance that gives us confidence to act in the world.  And when these qualities are unreachable, we feel fear.  The three numbers in this Triad each react to fear in different ways.

Fives respond by reducing their personal needs and retreating from life.  They have a sense that they are too frail and insubstantial to safely survive in the world.  It feels to them as if the only safe place is in their minds, so they use their energy to gather and stockpile information.  It’s hard for them to believe they have what is required to meet the daily demands of life, so they move, somewhat seamlessly, between home and the world, and back again, hoping that they will have a new insight or understanding to give them the security to emerge.

Sevens, by contrast, move toward life appearing to be afraid of nothing.  They are outwardly so adventurous and entertaining it can be hard to understand why they are in the Fear Triad.  They are full of fear but not of the outside world, instead  they are afraid of being trapped in emotional pain, grief and especially feelings of anxiety.  Their escape route is to plunge into activity or the anticipation of the next thing they have planned.  It takes a lot of energy to hold at bay the hurts and anxieties of life.  For Sixes, attention and energy are directed both inward and outward in a rhythm that is calming and feels somewhat safe.  When they feel anxious on the inside, they greet the world like a Seven would with action, anticipating a favorable outcome.  However, if their expectations are not met, they begin to fear they will be overwhelmed by demands from others and incapable of performing proficiently.  So, predictably, they jump back inside of themselves like Fives.  Sixes look for an authority figure who is trustworthy, strong and authoritative whom they can follow.  They lose their inner guidance by seeking guidance from others.  While they are looking for enough support to become independent, they find themselves dependent on the very people and systems they were using in their quest to trust themselves and their own ways of seeing the world.

Fives are convinced that support is either not available or it is unreliable.  As a result, they try to figure out everything on their own.  The problem is that “going it alone” means they must reduce their need for anyone.  Independence with no path to interdependence is no solution at all.

Sevens try to break away from fear by pursuing substitutes for the nurturing they think they lack.  They go after whatever they believe will make them feel secure and long for satisfaction. They respond to the lack of guidance by trying everything as if by a process of elimination they could discover the nurturing and care they are looking for. 

Living in a culture where many institutions capitalize on pedaling fear and encouraging anxiety, is very difficult for those who are in the Thinking triad.  Contemplative practices can help calm the fear.  Responding from a quiet mind will always be helpful.  And for these numbers it is essential that you trust yourself.  

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Suzanne Stabile is a speaker, teacher, and internationally recognized Enneagram master teacher who has taught thousands of people over the last thirty years. She is the author of ‘The Path Between Us’, and coauthor, with Ian Morgan Cron, of ‘The Road Back to You’. She is also the creator and host of The Enneagram Journey podcast. Along with her husband, Rev. Joseph Stabile, she is cofounder of Life in the Trinity Ministry, a nonprofit, nondenominational ministry committed to the spiritual growth and formation of adults.

The Six of Wands (Tarot Triptych)

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Name:  Victory, the Six of Wands
Number: 6
Astrology: Jupiter in Leo
Qabalah: Tiphereth of Yod

Chris Gabriel March 22, 2025

The Six of Wands is the highpoint of the suit - the fires burn their brightest and ascend, the efforts of the past cards are rewarded here. This is individuality, notability, and power. This is a card of victory.

In Rider, we have a triumphant man dressed in laurels, with another  carried atop his wand. His horse is cloaked in green, and he is cloaked in red. All around him,  figures hold up their wands and hail him as a hero returning from a victorious campaign.

In Thoth, there are six wands, two topped by lotuses, two topped by Set-creatures, and two topped with solar disks. Flames rise from their intersections. The wands are the orange of Leo, and the background is the violet of Jupiter.

In Marseille, the six wands form an X, from which plants and flowers emanate. Qabalistically, this is the Beauty of the King.

This is the end of the republic and the rise of Caesar, when one figure stands out above the rest. As Jupiter in Leo, it is a card of nonconformity and eccentric genius, not for the sake of standing out, but for the sake of gaining power. 

Many cards in  the suit of Wands concern the difficult amassing and keeping of power. This, however, is the desired state of the suit; the Ace sparked the fire, but it burns warmest and brightest at six, and only gets more difficult from here.

The same is true of victory, it is always short lived - a temporary reward in an endless power struggle. But this period produces immense change and revaluation can occur. What was slow and tiresome before now becomes easy, the victorious powers are able to move freely.

Rider shows us that  the victorious one is a “head above the rest”, able to see past the crowds and chaos. A line from Guilliame Apollinaire’s Victoire puts it perfectly:

Victory will be above all
To see truly into the distance
To see everything
Up close
So that everything can have a new name

The “New” motif of the Three of Wands comes to fruition here as the “Make it New” is now able to occur. This is God allowing Adam to name all the animals, according to his uppermost role. This is the renaming of months after Julius and Augustus, the Revolutionary government of France creating Thermidor, a new month, for a new calendar, and far more. Ancient Christians sought to change the pagan names of the planets and zodiac. To reshape the world in one’s own image is the will of God, and those that would be as Gods. These sweeping actions are only possible at the highest point of power.

When we pull this card, we can expect to achieve our desires, enjoy the rewards of our work,and  stand out in what we do. Be sure to make good use of this time and move things forward toward your long term goals. Do not rest on your laurels.

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Chris Gabriel is a twenty four year old wizard and poet who runs the YouTube channel MemeAnalysis.

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The Principles of the Nature Cure System, A Fragment

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One of the founding fathers of so called ‘Alternative Medicine’, Benedict Lust established a principle of Naturopathy which promoted non invasive self healing, using the medicine of the world around us rather than chemical or developed drugs. Though many of the practices Lust called for have since been widely and rightly discredited, many have become accepted into the mainstream, and scientifically endorsed. His criticisms of the pharmaceutical industry, from the turn of the 20th century up until his death in 1945, remain relevant and potent today. This piece is a fragment from the introduction to his ‘Universal Naturopathic Encyclopedia’, a guide to drugless therapy that combined and utilised folk practices, vitalism, and other alternative cures, published in 1918.

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Benedict Lust, March 18, 2025

Since the earliest ages, Medical Science has been of all sciences the most unscientific. Its professors, with few exceptions, have sought to cure disease by the magic of pills and potions and poisons that attacked the ailment with the idea of suppressing the symptoms instead of attacking the real cause of the ailment.

Medical science has always believed in the superstition that the use of chemical substances which are harmful and destructive to human life will prove an efficient substitute for the violation of laws, and in this way encourages the belief that a man may go the limit in self indulgence that weaken and destroy his physical system, and then hope to be absolved from his physical ailments by swallowing a few pills, or submitting to an injection of a serum, that are supposed to act as vicarious redeemers of the physical organism and counteract life-long practices that are poisonous and wholly destructive to the patient's well-being.

From the earliest ages to the present time, the priests of medicine have discovered that it is ten times easier to obtain ten dollars from a man by acting upon his superstition, than it is to extract one dollar from him, by appealing to reason and common sense. Having this key to a gold mine within their grasp, we find official medicine indulging at all times in the most blatant, outrageous, freakish and unscientific methods of curing disease, because the methods were in harmony with the medical prestige of the physician.

Away back in pre-historic times, disease was regarded as a demon to be exorcised from its victim, and the medicine man of his tribe belabored the body of his patient with a bag in which rattled bones and feathers, and no doubt in extreme cases the tremendous faith in this process of cure that was engendered in the mind of the patient really cured some ailments for which mental science, not the bag of bones and feathers, should be given credit.

Coming down to the middle ages, the Witches' Broth — one ingredient of which was the blood of a child murderer drawn in the dark of the moon — was sworn to, by official medicine, as a remedy for every disease.

In a later period, the docteur a la mode, between his taking pinches of snuff from a gold snuff box, would order the patient bled as a remedy for what he denominated spirits, vapors, megrims, or miasms.

Following this pseudo-scientific diagnosis and method of cure, came the drugging phase in which symptoms of disease were unmercifully attacked by all kinds of drugs, alkalis, acids and poisons which were supposed, that by suffocating the symptoms of disease, by smothering their destructive energy, to thus enhance the vitality of the individual. All these cures have had their inception, their period of extensive application, and their certain desuetude. The contemporary fashion of healing disease is that of serums and pills, which, instead of being an improvement on the fake medicines of former ages are of no value in the cure of disease, but on the contrary introduce lesions into the human body of the most distressing and deadly import.

The policy of expediency is at the basis of medical drug healing. It is along the lines of self-indulgence, indifference, ignorance and lack of self-control that drug medicine lives, moves and has its being. The sleeping swineries of mankind are wholly exploited by a system of medical treatment, founded on poisonous and revolting products, whose chemical composition and whose mode of attacking disease, are equally unknown to their originators, and this is called "scientific medicine."

Like the alchemist of old who circulated the false belief that he could transmute the baser metals into gold, in like manner the vivisector claims that he can coin the agony of animals into cures for human disease. He insists on cursing animals that he may bless mankind with such curses.

The natural system for curing disease is based on a return to nature in regulating the diet, breathing, exercising, bathing and the employment of various forces to eliminate the poisonous products in the system, and so raise the vitality of the patient to a proper standard of health.

The prime object of natural healing is to give the principle of life the line of least resistance, that it may enable man to possess the most abundant health.

What is life? The finite mind of man fails to comprehend the nature of this mysterious principle. The philosopher says "Life is the sum of the forces that resist detail," but that definition only increases its obscurity. Life is a most precious endowment of protoplasm, of the various combinations of oxygen, hydrogen, carbon and nitrogen, and other purely mineral substances in forming organic tissues. As Othello says, referring to Desdemona's life, which he compares to the light of a candle —

"If I quench thee thou flaming minister, 
I can thy former light restore 
Should I repent me; but once put out thy light, 
I know not whence is that Promethean heat 
That can thy light relume."

The spark of life flickers in the sockets of millions and is about to go out. What system of medicine will most surely restore that flickering spark to a steady, burning flame?

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Benedict Lust (1872 – 1945) was a German-American doctor who was one of the founders of naturopathic medicine. He helped introduce ideas of psychotherapy, Yoga, and Ayurveda therapy to an American audience.

The Four of Wands (Tarot Triptych)

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Name:  Completion, the Four of Wands
Number: 4
Astrology: Venus in Aries
Qabalah: Chesed of Yod

Chris Gabriel March 15, 2025

In the four of wands we see both the quick fulfilment of desires and the ability to regularly achieve them. The daily virtue taught by the three of wands pays off here, with an effective and pleasurable routine.

In Rider, we see two robed figures holding up small boughs. Immediately in the foreground are four wands, with a bough of fruits and ribbons atop them. Behind the two figures is  a castle and a group of revellers.

In Thoth, we are shown an astrological image - four wands tipped by the ram of Aries and the dove of Venus. They oppose one another, and form a circle. There is fire in the center, and the earthy green of Venus decorates the background.

In Marseille, there are four wands, out of which two plants and two flowers emerge. Qabalistically, this is the Mercy of the King.

Astrologically, Venus in Aries is a detrimental position, but as this card shows, that doesn’t mean it can’t be fun. This is a ‘shotgun wedding’ rather than an extravagant and beautiful ball. It is a passionate relationship, but not necessarily one with a future.

The four of cups is a good mood, with the comfort of home, but it already bears the seeds of its undoing. Venus in Aries is much like “Beauty and the Beast”, which may work out in fairy tales, but usually proves unstable in our lives. Aries seeks immediate satisfactions while Venus enjoys the dance. Venus takes its time  to converse with a partner. Aries wants just one thing, and it wants it now. They are naturally opposed, but can be exciting when the chemistry is right.

Both Jodorowsky and Crowley emphasise this card's relation to routine. Our natural drives and whims form a circuit, and while this can work well for a time, routine can wear down creativity. This is the relationship that sexually satisfies both parties, but fails to reach higher resonance.

In its most dignified form, it represents a passionate bout of work, a relationship, or a period of partying that leads to greater satisfaction and ability. So long as it is not permanent, all is well.

When pulling this card, we can expect a good time. We may find inspiration in  a new flame, or find a good rhythm to our life. The key is passion; as soon as things get boring, this card is out of play.

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Chris Gabriel is a twenty four year old wizard and poet who runs the YouTube channel MemeAnalysis.

CHANNEL, SOCIAL, READINGS

Cosmic Respiration and the Four Elements

God Breathing Life into Adam. Franz Xaver Karl Panko, c.1760.

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Molly Hankins March 13, 2025

In Kabblaistic tradition, many of life’s truths are revealed through natural functions and the greatest mystery of all is revealed through our breath. We come in and out of physical form with the rhythmic pattern of our breathing, and by paying attention to this, we learn where we must focus to align with the natural rhythm of life. Alchemy teaches us that transforming each element into one of greater subtlety is how we extract the most energy from matter. So when we learn to breathe consciously we can absorb the subtle energies of the universe more readily, in the same way that we can extract more nutrients from our food by thoroughly chewing.

Presenting at The Science of Consciousness conference last year, professor and spiritual teacher Hide Saegusa presented research showing a correlation between the depth and slowness of breath and an increase in reports of synchronicity and manifestation experiences. His work points to what 20th century Kabbalah teachers such as Omraam Mikhaël Aïvanhov believe -conscious breathing allows us to  absorb more energy, which increases our capacity for magic. Deep, slow, deliberate breathing not only aligns us with the natural ebb and flow of life, but also sets free the subtle energies contained in the air we breathe. 

As Aïvanhov wrote in his book Fruits of the Tree of Life, “The air we breathe is like a mouthful of food, a mouthful of extraordinary forces and energies. If you let it out too quickly, the lungs don’t have time to cook, digest and assimilate it for the benefit of the whole body.” By consciously holding air in our lungs, he contends that our body is able to perform a function equivalent to the ignition and explosions of an internal combustion engine. This energy can only be generated by the compression created when we hold our breath such that it’s forced to circulate through all the tiny alveoli in our lungs.  

The Wim Hof method, by contrast, asks us to hold our breath after exhalation rather than inhalation, but from the perspective of generating subtle energy the result is the same. The element of air is converted into fire by the inherent discomfort of the  process. Subtle energies are then absorbed by our cells, which are predominantly made of water. Our physical, Earthly-matter bodies can then use this energy in a process that unifies the four elements of air, fire, water, and Earth in alignment with a natural process he calls ‘cosmic respiration.’The harmonization and alignment this provides  leads to reality becoming more malleable. Practitioners of these methods then, Aïvanhov asserts, become more adept at influencing reality.

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“By consciously creating more energy to fuel these natural processes, we free up more energy for creativity, magical practice and anything else we care to do.”

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We can apply the same conscious practice to absorbing light from the sun. By deliberately observing the light as it travels through air, we can “hold onto it” with our awareness and thereby recreate the same process of using the four elements. “We absorb the light through a network of minute channels in our bodies and our whole being vibrates with greater intensity. Of course, light can affect some work in us without our conscious collaboration, but if we are attentive to the work it is doing and eager to take part in it, the results will be greatly enhanced.” The “luminous particles”  released by consciously focusing on absorbing the sun’s rays strengthen our energy and physical bodies by optimizing the process of cellular turnover. Everyday, 1% of our cells, around 330 billion, are replaced with new ones. By consciously creating more energy to fuel these natural processes, we free up more energy for creativity, magical practice and anything else we care to do. 

Saegusa’ suggests that breathing two to three times per minute is the threshold at which there is a statistically significant increase of synchronicity and successful manifestation. While this is impossible to achieve when our autonomic nervous system is in control, consciously practicing slow breathing activates our parasympathetic nervous system, which makes 10 to 15-second inhalations and exhalations attainable. Through practice,  we can train our autonomic nervous system to naturally take longer, deeper breaths. Apply this to the cosmic respiration of sunlight and we can approximate a method of holding our awareness of absorbing sunlight for 10 to 15 seconds at a time for a few minutes a day. Each time we perform this practice, we do so knowing that sunlight causes us to grow and flourish, whether we’re basking in physical sunlight or consciously connecting with the sun metaphysically. 

Most of us have been conditioned to believe we are human beings with a soul, but the premise of cosmic respiration is exactly the opposite. We are souls that have a human body, and by attuning ourselves to this practice, we can supercharge the energy fueling our physical form.

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Molly Hankins is an Initiate + Reality Hacker serving the Ministry of Quantum Existentialism and Builders of the Adytum.

A Deeper Sense of Home

M. Palacio, 1890.

Tuukka Toivonen March 11, 2025

‘The predicament of private life today is shown by its arena. Dwelling, in the proper sense, is now impossible. […] The functional modern habitations designed from a tabula rasa, are living-cases of manufactured by experts for philistines, or factory sites that have stayed into the consumption sphere, devoid of all relation to the occupant.’   

- Theodor Adorno's Minima Moralia (1951/1994¹)

What does home mean to you? Is it a place you like to return to at the end of a long day? Is it a container of calm solitude? The warm presence and familiar smiles of significant others or the enthusiastic welcome of a furry pet? Passing through the front door, do you see yourself exiting a stressful, chaotic world and entering a domestic realm where the rumblings and unpredictable movements of that world outside give way to security and comfort? My guess is that this sense of relative peace and interiority is integral at least to your idea of the home, if not its entire reality.

If we take a moment to reflect, most of us can probably call to mind the feeling of being ‘at home’ in a place or dwelling. We can also easily imagine its opposite, being ill at home and feeling uncomfortable, unsettled or like one does not really belong to a place. Until a short while ago, I had never thought very seriously about the meaning of home beyond these basic distinctions. Then a brief post on trail hiking prompted me to think again about the nature of being-at-home-ness. 

The post recounted how a good number of the hikers appear to find a sense of home on the trail. These explorers seem to feel most ‘at home’ not when sheltered inside a fixed structure or a familiar daily setting, but when in movement – under the open sky, traversing and surviving challenging terrains in unpredictable conditions – often taking considerable risks along the way. 

This subtle, perhaps simple insight got me wondering whether our assumptions of fixedness and insularity associated with the home, which now seem normal and even ideal to many of us, were but distortions that kept us from seeing a more complex reality. If it really is possible for some of us to experience a sense of home out in the open, in constantly changing conditions, does that not suggest that physical seclusion and stability are in fact not essential for feeling at home in a place and in our present lives? Does it not imply, further, that we might not be quite as fulfilled  and nurtured in our contemporary physical and social home environments as we tend to assume? Perhaps the truth is that many of us have yet to fully explore what could truly make us feel at home in the world.

If we look at architectural history and anthropology of the home, we can help set these ponderings in a wider context. In the classic work Experiencing Architecture, Steen Eiler Rasmussen notes that before the onset of modernity, the very crafting of homes and essential implements was a communal, rather than private or commercial, enterprise that entire villages took part in. The individuals who would come to occupy a building were directly involved in its formation, and the consequence was that ‘houses were built with a natural feeling for place, materials and use and the result was a remarkably suitable comeliness’ (Rasmussen 1959/1992, preface). By the middle of the 20th century, much of this had changed and not for the better, according to Rasmussen: ‘in our highly civilized society, the houses which ordinary people are doomed to live in and gaze upon are on the whole without quality’. What had been lost was not merely the aesthetic harmony of housing or the communal, situated dimension of the home-building process, but also a broader sense of attunement with local ecosystems, landscapes and even seasons. The anthropologist Tim Ingold has written extensively on dwelling, environmental perception and settings that should be viewed as fully alive rather than inert. He observes that industrialized modes of production have disrupted the sense of reciprocity that people feel towards the land they inhabit while also stymieing the local material and relational flows that constitute a living place. 

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“Despite the dramatic erosion of all that used to root our physical dwellings in something greater than their most visible features, what should we do to find a deeper sense of home in contemporary conditions?”

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This understanding can help us appreciate why the alienation and isolation of our present-day homes is at once more profound and tragic than we might initially envisage. It is as if the living roots and rich entanglements that used to make up a home have been surgically removed, leaving behind a mere empty shell, an anonymously designed structure without personality serving as a socially unmoored container. We may have become more mobile and free from the constraints of place-based communities as a result, but at what cost?

Just what is it that makes today’s homes so different, so appealing?, Richard Hamilton. 1956.

As disturbing as this may seem, it can also bring us some relief. If our abodes have themselves become radically untethered from the life-giving relations and processes that used to ground them in place, it should not then come as a surprise that we struggle to feel fully alive in them. How could we feel a deep sense of homeliness and rootedness in buildings or places that have become so abjectly rootless, lifeless, and deprived of the flows that used to both constitute them and nurture the inhabitants’ souls?

Before you pack up your rucksack and set out on a long hike or pilgrimage, consider instead searching for a nearby place that retains some degree of rootedness, history and entanglement. For Jenny Odell, the artist and author of How to Do Nothing: Resisting the Attention Economy, such qualities could be found in Oakland’s Rose Garden, built into a quiet hillside. Having made the decision to ground herself in this tangible place, Odell quickly came to value the way in which the garden offered her an enriching, contemplative space. Far from furnishing an experience of total isolation, the garden opened her up to notice the diverse forms of life frolicking around her, starting with birdsong. As her moments of ‘doing nothing’ continued, the sound of ravens, robins, song sparrows, chickadees, goldfinches, tomawhees, hawks, nuthatches and others became so familiar to her that she no longer had to strain to recognize them. These unexpected friendships and the coziness she felt within the garden’s labyrinthine layout gave Odell a real sense of home not in a building or even a group of humans but in a fluid bubble that while removed, was a fruitful setting for connection, affective experience and fulfilment. It does not matter  whether or not Odell viewed the Rose Garden as an actual home but that she found something that powerfully grounded her life, her thinking and her artistry, through stillness as well as movement, and through her newfound other-than-human acquaintances. 

Architects and designers, too, are starting to pay attention to how a stronger sense of home, or at least homeliness, might be supported by their creations and the ways in which these interact with their surroundings, even in urban environments. The maverick Japanese architect Yamashita Taiju elevates coziness into a core design principle that informs how he creates everything from offices to commercial complexes. He seeks to also cultivate a sense of flow (nagare) and movement in and around the structures he enacts, believing that without a lively sense of dynamism spaces grow stale and boring. Many other designers are experimenting with how the boundaries between the 'inside’ and ‘outside’ of a structure could be erased or at least minimized when crafting comfortable new dwellings and how they might rejoin local ecological rhythms and regenerative material flows. 

So, despite the dramatic erosion of all that used to root our physical dwellings in something greater than their most visible features, what should we do to find a deeper sense of home in contemporary conditions? I believe that, as a first step, it will help if we set aside binary thinking and embrace how privacy and connection, shelter and openness, stability and movement can combine to generate a fulfilling experience of being ‘at home’. Indeed, it is the presence of these seemingly opposing dynamics that used to bestow our homes with aliveness and meaning. That said, we do not need to (and cannot) revive past realities; instead, what we can do is translate the search for a deeper sense of home into a creative act. We can rediscover the kinds of flows and nurturing qualities that feel both anchoring and enlivening for us in our unique life-worlds. In doing so, we are at liberty to draw inspiration from those who feel truly at home on the trail as well as those who feel more cozy in capsule-like concrete apartments floating above sprawling cities. Perhaps this is how we will ultimately find a more enduring sense of home on Earth as well, as a species that so often appears ill at ease on the very planet that birthed it. 

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Tuukka Toivonen, Ph.D. (Oxon.) is a sociologist interested in ways of being, relating and creating that can help us reconnect with – and regenerate – the living world, in this age of the artificial.

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¹  Adorno, T. W. (1994). Minima Moralia: Reflections from Damaged Life (E. F. N. Jephcott, Trans.; 8th ed.). Verso. (Original work published 1951)
²  Rasmussen, S. E. 1992. Experiencing architecture (23rd ed). MIT press. (Original work published in 1959).
³ Odell, J. 2019. How to do nothing: Resisting the attention economy. Brooklyn, NY: Melville House.

The Six of Cups (Tarot Triptych)

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Name:  Pleasure, the Six of Cups
Number: 6
Astrology: Sun in Scorpio
Qabalah: Tiphereth of He

Chris Gabriel March 8, 2025

The Six of Cups is just enough: a perfect amount of wine, a good cigarette, the right portion of a meal. This is a card of enjoyment, of the feeling when we find exactly what we want. It is  harmony and balance between ourselves and the world.

In Rider, we find a picturesque scene. A boy in blue with a red cowl hands a potted flower to a little girl in a spotted yellow dress. They are in a little village square. A guard with a pike stands in the distance. Four cups are in the foreground, while one sits on a column behind the boy. It is a picture fit for Norman Rockwell.

In Thoth, we are shown six golden lotuses pouring water into six cups. An ornate, symmetrical network of pipe-like stems hold the flowers aloft. A blue sea lightly churns below, and a clear sky is above. 

In Marseille, a flower divides the card into two halves, each containing three cups to create a perfect mirror image. Qabalistically, this is the Beauty of the Queen, taking pleasure in perfectly balanced things.

It is a great rarity to get exactly what we want, but ‘Pleasure’ shows us it is possible. Together with the Five of Cups, ‘Disappointment’, and the Seven of Cups, ‘Debauch”, we are given the image of too little, too much, and just right.

In this way, the Six of Cups is like Goldilocks - just right. We are prone to desire too much of a good thing, turning it to dangerous excess. Or, there is not enough of it to satiate our needs, and we are left wanting. Pleasure is getting exactly the right amount of what we want, and achieving balance. 

This is a glass that is neither half empty or half full, it is just a good glass.

As Scorpio, this card directly relates to material pleasures, especially drink and sex. Both of these can cause a great deal of problems, as seen in the 5 and 7 of cups, but in the 6 they are just enough. It is the pure release of orgasm. The symmetry shown in Marseilles and Thoth really paint the picture by way of mirror images, and harmony. 

In the words of William Blake “No bird soars too high, if he soars with his own wings.” When we follow our body and nature, we do not restrict all pleasure or over indulge. 

The Psychoanalysts understood well that our neuroses quickly do away with balance, leading us to  either take all that we can, or reject all.

Wilhelm Reich describes it well in “Listen, Little Man!”:

‘You remember the Swedish institution of smorgasbord. Many foods and delicacies are spread out, and it is left to the guest what and how much he will take. To you this institution was new and alien; you could not understand how one can trust human decency. You told me with malicious joy how you did not eat all day in order to gorge yourself on the free food in the evening.’

Let us listen to our bodies and take only what we will.

When pulling this card we can expect things to be quite good: a dream may come true, we may find our feelings mirrored, and our desires met. Let us then keep our hearts balanced and pure, so we don’t take too much of a good thing.

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Chris Gabriel is a twenty four year old wizard and poet who runs the YouTube channel MemeAnalysis.

CHANNEL, SOCIAL, READINGS

Sourcing Gesture Pt. 2

Aby Warburg, Mnemosyne Picture Atlas. 1929.

Find part one of ‘Sourcing Gesture’ here.

Isabelle Bucklow March 6, 2025

Through the late 19th and early 20th centuries, the German polymath Aby Warburg devoted his intellectual life to uncovering a ‘psychology of human expression’. His final and unfinished project, a visual Mnemosyne Atlas (1927-29), showcases certain gestures that persist from Western antiquity to modern advertisements. Warburg forged formal connections across media to trace the migration of a certain pose from a tomb carving, to a Roman statue, to a 1920s fashion campaign. But it would be remiss to assume this was a historical retracing back to an original source, imitated and gradually adapted until it reaches its current form. Instead, this project uncovered not an original but recurrences: ‘Original worlds exist only as survivals, that is to say, impure, masked, contaminated, transformed, antithetically reversed’.¹ Specifically, Warburg was interested in recurring expressions of heightened emotion/motion, leading him to develop the term pathosformel (pathos formula). Pathos, an individual emotive ephemeral event, is transformed into a generic and permanent symbolic expression (enacted corporeally). 

Warburg was concerned with the emotional undercurrents of social memory that informed how past gestures are read in the present. Although gestures might once have claimed stable meanings through time, Warburg noted pathosformel can also be ‘aesthetically reversed’, that is, they both contain and can be flipped into their opposite; joyous laughter becoming sinister mania. The same gesture is capable of communicating different things and Warburg termed this oscillation between opposing forces an ‘energetic inversion’. Thus, for Warburg, gestures are primarily signs of ‘affective intensity and energy’. An affective (and affecting)energy is stored in, released, received and re-enacted through gestures; in short, gestures move (corporeally, temporally) and we are moved by them (but to what psychological ‘affect’ we cannot always be sure for that same gesture, as we have seen, can tip into its opposite meaning).

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“Gesture's fragile, fluctuating energy is displaced; a process akin to pinning a butterfly to a mount, which tells you nothing of what a butterfly actually is.” 

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Returning to Atkins and Zultanski’s Sorcerer, the set was delineated by three cast-iron radiators. The script’s Appendix A states the radiators must be ‘plumbed into the central heating of the theatre […] on and quite warm’.² It is also acknowledged the audience might never notice the radiators are on. There is however a moment in the play when Peter leans in to adjust one of the radiators, ‘his microphone picks up the sound of water moving in it’. For a play propelled by gesture – through ticks and gestural skits (outlined in the stage directions) – and where the use of these gestures conjures a sense of psychological unease, it feels apt to note the explicit circulation of energy in the space as carrying something of a Warburgian charge; Where else does gesture emerge from but the heady concoction of affective intensity and energy. 

If gestures have long been defined by a simultaneous charge between kinetic energy and stored energy, today gestures are also stored in energy intensive data centres. The online database Imagenet contains a wealth of gesticulations categorised under the branch: natural object> body> human body>; and there are datasets based on a collection of European early modern paintings, from which hand gestures are ‘extracted using human pose estimation (HPE) methods’. Some datasets are open source while others are bought and sold or generated in-house to train all sorts of AI tools. The first that comes to mind is the gesture recognition feature in Google Meet video calls. Give a thumbs up and an emoji will appear on screen, raise your hand and the host will be notified you have something to say, of course this function is rife with misrecognition, outbursts of emojis and unintended affects. In such datasets the cataloguing may evoke Warburg’s atlas by bringing together disparate sources that share a formal similitude, but the binary order imposed by these datasets flattens and de-contextualises gestures, fixing them to a preordained affect. Stored here, gesture's fragile, fluctuating energy is displaced; a process akin to pinning a butterfly to a mount, which tells you nothing of what a butterfly actually is. 

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¹  Georges Didi Huberman, The Surviving Image (Penn State University Press, 2016) p. 161
² Ed Atkins, Steven Zultanski, Sorcerer (Prototype, 2023) p. 106

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Isabelle Bucklow is a London-based writer, researcher and editor. She is the co-founding editor of motor dance journal.