Thursday, 6 July 2017

Seven Secular Sermons - a meditation for the Age of Science

Any old Aeon
Any old Aeon
Any any any old Aeon
- From a song by Barry Hairbrush

If you are reading my weird writings you have probably heard of Aeonics, various philosophers' and magicians' ideas of how civilizations undergo great big shifts in their central ideas. You will have come across Crowley's Aeons of Isis the Mother, Osiris the Dying God and Horus the Crowned and Conquering Child. You may have come across Peter Carroll's more pragmatic extension of this into a five-Aeon scheme. We start off in Shamanism, proceed to Pagan Polytheism, to Monotheism and then to Materialist Modernism, before slipping off the edge of the model into the current rather Postmodernist PanDaemonAeon.

Most of those older Aeons produced artworks which promote meditations which explicate the spiritual worldview of that Aeon. Take ancient Egyptian religion and its gorgeous polytheistic splendour. Or the mediaeval cathedrals in their breathtaking devotional majesty.

The Fourth Aeon, the Science-y one, has little like this, few attempts to provide an experience of rapture and awe in the face of a worldview. There are clumsy attempts by the likes of Dawkins to tell us we do not need mystery, only wonder at the revelations of science, but speaking for myself, they are more off-putting than encouraging. Basically, reductionist-eliminationist-materialists are the worse people for the job of enhancing awe in us.

So along comes Daniel Böttger. The subtitle of the piece is 'Towards a more profoundly satisfying appreciation of reality at large.' Daniel will show you how to love the world of scientific revelation. He tells us:

'The Seven Secular Sermons are:
- the only guided meditations in verse and rhyme,
- the only attempt to replace religion as a frame for mystical experience,
- the longest poems, by far, ever written in the classic style of the common metre,
- based on 20 years of meditation experience, 15 years of writing guided meditations and a few years of - academic research into the psychology of religious ritual,
- best enjoyed when listened to rather than read,
- entirely in line with the current state of scientific knowledge and
- so mindblowing they frequently move listeners to tears.'

The whole thing kicks off from the centre of where you are, with a meditation:

'This meditation's rhyming verse
describes a paradigm
of us inside this universe,
adrift in space and time.'

For sure, the verse style will not be to everyone's taste. But don't judge on the basis of reading, but try listening to a bit of the sound recordings on the page linked above, and see how it works together with the material.

The first three are currently available. This is an ongoing project and more sermons will be released.

'Seven Secular Sermons' will introduce you to a different take on the world of the Scientific Aeon and may move you to tears!

Tuesday, 23 May 2017

Getting Higher by Julian Vayne - a review

Getting Higher - The manual of psychedelic ceremony

Julian Vayne,

This is a unique book, which I have been waiting for the likes of for some time.

My first adult-life experiences of events that I framed as magical happened in my late teens, under the influence of acid. It wasn't until my mind-20s that I embarked on daily study and practice. This was in the late 1970s, and the world of magical writing - the serious sort rather than the various New Age dilutions - was dominated by the works of Crowley. I found Crowley's work interesting partly because he saw no basic problem in using psychoactive substances in the course of magical work. Most other magical writers seemed to shrivel up in horror at the mere thought.

However, Crowley was ultimately a disappointment to me in this area, as in a few others. He had used mescaline, one of what I thought of as the most interesting class of drugs, the psychedelics, but had written almost nothing about his experiences of it. Compare this to the essays on cocaine, opiates and even hashish, which he didn't particularly like. Even his attempts to revive the Eleusinian Mysteries using a kykeon that was probably part-mescaline are not really written up. Somehow, mescaline just gets left out. Somehow, Crowley ends up leaving no guidelines or even useful reports for the use of psychedelics in magic and mystical practice.

As magicians, in the end we have to work things out for ourselves. This is indeed what people have been doing, and finally Julian Vayne has come along and collated this useful knowledge of how to get the best out of these precious substances. This book is a report from years of solo and group experimentation.

The topics covered include: an exploration of why we might want to get high, discussions of set, setting and substance, introducing the terminology used by Shulgin and other experienced trippers, and a nicely-nuanced view of synthetic vs natural.

Over the years, one of the questions that got asked again and again was: Do we just appropriate a traditional ritual structure lock, stock and barrel, or do we use it is a template, testing each aspect of it so that we understand why each part is there, and then re-envisioning it according to our own culture? In Vayne's book, magic is introduced for the psychedelic experience by breaking down the usual elements and noting what is useful - so for instance there's a discussion of dress, lighting, the best attitudes for a group working and ceremonial speech. Magical techniques from breathwork to movement and drumming are looked at, as are issues of posture. Pathworkings for internal journeys are suggested, and things to do and make for more outwardly-directed phases of experience. Some of Vayne's own rituals are described, including his version of a Medicine Circle, in which a traditional structure is used as a starting-point.

Vayne's style, as in his previous books, embraces a good deal of anecdote, which is perfect for this kind of book. One keyword that comes to mind is 'inclusive', in the sense that Julian does not sneer at, for instance, rave culture, but instead explicates its structural similarity to other kinds of psychedelic ceremony. This inclusion is extended to the idea that there is nothing wrong with taking these drugs for fun. The word 'recreation' must at one time have meant something along the lines of 'remaking ourselves', and it is only the puritan mindset that is still amazingly prevalent in our culture that conditions us to think that enjoyment alone is not a good reason to engage in something.

Now, this is quite a slender volume, with a lot packed in. At £10.99 for 125 pages, pocket-book format, it would be an expensive book, but for the fact that there are illustrations - by the awesome Pete Loveday. (Check out the 'Russell' comics - highly recommended for countercultural humour and wisdom.). This connection is a nice link to the free festival scene, which all through the 1970s and 80s hosted much collective experimentation in the sacred and profane uses of psychedelics.

So buy this book. It connects things up. It is a new kind of thing, and long-awaited.

Monday, 13 February 2017

My Years of Magical Thinking, by Lionel Snell

Lionel Snell is without doubt one of the great magical thinkers of the last half-century. This book is somewhat different to his other books, because he is offering his arguments to the wider public beyond the magical ghetto. It is a concerted defence of magical thinking - but as one of four basic types of thinking, four basic human ways of apprehending our worlds.

This four-directions model is not new - Snell's first book, SSOTBME, from 1974, laid out this model of human apprehension, but I must confess I never got that it was supposed to be a normal mode of thinking; somehow I assumed he was smuggling it in to complete his picture, and that it was still a fringe thing. Thinking back, I am puzzled at how I misread that idea, but it no doubt has to do with the fact that my own approach to magical thinking has often emphasized the fringe-y, even freakish nature of such thinking - the freakiness of which I am quite comfortable with.

Snell is careful to explain that this is not a map of 4 quadrants, into which all thinking can be neatly stuffed, but a compass of 4 directions, tendencies. These tendencies do have at their core some ideal kind of thinking which is of course always referred to, often emulated but never achieved in a pure form. He points out that this model is in itself an example of magical thinking, and is aware of the price we pay for making systems:
'No theory can claim maturity until it has been accused of being "a gross over-simplification".'

So what are the characteristics of the 4 types of thinking?

Magical thinking is based on a combination of feeling and sensation - we gather evidence directly via sensation and then decide how to act by what 'feels right.'
This is a fast mode of processing, much faster than Scientific thinking's combination of sensation and thinking. So it is much more useful in a pinch. I was reminded of the words of one of my favourite songwriters, Arthur Lee, when he sings: 'I believe in magic / Why? Because it is so quick / I don't need power when I'm hypnotized...'

Here is an elegant indicator of Religious thinking:
'...a notion has no religious meaning unless it is capable of being disbelieved (for otherwise there would be no non-believers from which the believers could differentiate themselves).'

Magical thinking is characterized by an inclusiveness of thought:
'In magical culture, a belief in any one system does not compel disbelief in another system that contradicts it, and this sets magical thinking apart from religious or scientific use of the word "belief`".'

For example:
'...I clearly accept the theory of evolution as a myth. I accept the myth that consciousness is generated within my brain, because that too works well for me - but it does not stop me also accepting the myth that I have an immortal soul that has incarnated in this body because that also works well in other contexts. I can at the same time accept the myth that light is a wave as well as the myth that light is made of particles, as both those myths work for me in their own way.'

Magical thinking also involves a game-like approach to life, not taking belief in what you are doing too seriously. The edges of magic, perhaps on the Science side of the compass, show up where:
'You do find magicians apparently so serious about a particular set of symbols that they appear to have accepted it as "absolutely true". Does that mean they are no longer playing a game?'

In contrast, the attitude of the official game-playing world of sport is much more serious, and Lionel puts it under Religious thinking, in which we have to believe in one thing and exclude all others, belong to one in-group and relegate all other people to the out-group.

The edges of Scientific thinking are interesting. Snell shows how theoretical physics is Platonism, of a peculiar kind:
'For example, any experiment as experienced subjectively by a scientist must be assumed to have a one-to-one relationship with an experiment taking place in the higher Platonic reality of a physical universe that is assumed to "really exist" and whose shadow or image makes up the experimenter's subjective experience.'

Plato, as I read him, is talking about subjectivity, and therefore the ideal states he talks about are subjective ones, and our discrimination around them is what leads us to spiritual awakening. But in our post-Cartesian world, spirit and even consciousness is rejected as being too difficult to understand, so theoreticians like Dennett and Dawkins pretend it doesn't exist (the most ridiculous philosophical position imaginable, since consciousness is the only prime datum we have). So instead physicists have projected an ideal out onto the external world, of an objective existence behind what we experience but which we can never reach.

The final section addresses some issue in the modern world. Snell tells us we are living in a culture where magical thinking is once again rising to prominence. This is of course not all good - it is the sort of era when some pundit in all seriousness can coin the phrase 'post-truth', a world in which prominent figures are not even shamed when their lies are revealed.

I have not, in this brief review, done justice to the layered and thorough arguments in this book, and I know I haven't plumbed its depths either. That will take another reading and then some. I recommend it unreservedly for anyone who wants to go on a journey of thinking about what magic means and what culture does with it.