The Blog of Baphomet

I’ve recently been re-reading Love, Sex, Fear, Death by Timothy Wyllie and was once again struck by the potent iconography and influence of The Process Church of the Final Judgement. The 1960s were undeniably a time of heady social ferment and cultural creativity – the love and peace idealism of the Haight Ashbury set, cross pollinating with student unrest and a growing awareness of the inequalities that were present for many people on both sides of the Atlantic. While many were intoxicated by the popularity of spiritual traditions generically described as “Eastern”, it was perhaps surprising that through a haze of dope and incense, strode the hard-edged Gnostics of the Process.

Business Process

“The Process” stood in stark contrast to the loose limbed ascetic of the flower powered. Sporting long robes and satanically shaped beards (optional), The Process appeared to be responding to a darker more visceral vision than many of their peers. In the 9 years during which its co-founder Robert De Grimston was at the helm, the Process integrated some initial insights gained from Scientology with a radical re-working of Judeo-Christian mythology.

Responding to a series of visionary experiences gained while in Mexico, the group set out a polarity in which Christ, Satan, Jehovah and Lucifer were in dynamic tension with each other. As is so often the case, this cosmology then provided much of the focus for initiatory work within the Process. Processeans would often identify which of the specific primary deities reflected their core psychological profile, and, which balancing quality they might need to pursue in seeking integration.

I would highly recommend Wyllie’s book, not only for its brilliant collection of original Process art work and magazine articles, but also its reflections on how group dynamics function within new religious movements. While it undoubtedly displayed many traits that raise concerns about cult-like behaviour, for those of us interested in how Luciferian/Gnostic imagery has been utilised in initiatory work, they provide us with much to learn from.

Data Processing

In my recent series of blog posts Gnostic Musings I sought to explore the potential value of trying to view the players on that mythic stage from a more systemic perspective. While the Gnostic scriptures provide us with a theological model that is full of dualism and oppositional tensions, it can also be helpful to view them with a more pantheon-focused or polytheistic lens. Whatever beliefs that we might hold regarding the ultimate unity (or not) of the Mystery, the reality is that as humans we tend to adopt religious frameworks that allow for some allowance of multiplicity and complexity.

Historians of religious history might consider the virtual impossibility of maintaining absolute monotheism. However desirable the Oneness of God may be at a philosophical level, the messy phenomena of how we do our religions seems to point toward a more team based approach. Whether it’s the 99 names of Allah or the evolution of the doctrine of the Trinity, when faced with the Mystery or “Runa” of whatever is out there, we often need a number of masks for our gods to wear.

As to the “why?” we do this, I’m sure there are a whole raft of reasons, but for brevity’s sake I will touch briefly on two:

Firstly the allowance for multiplicity allows us to make sense of new experiences of the numinous that disrupt our current worldviews. For the first century Jewish community trying to make sense of their encounter with Jesus, there was an inevitable struggle as they sought to harmonize their experience of the risen Christ with their existing monotheism – was this being a God? Should we address our perceived messiah as “Lord”? Certainly we can see the evolution of competing interpretations as the church evolved its thinking in the centuries prior to the Nicene creed (for those interested in this check out “Christology in the Making” by James Dunn). Multiplicity allows us to ‘upload’ new insights and experiences into our perception of the numinous.

As a Gnostic explorer travelling my path, I am aware of my own process of canonisation as I promote and demote incoming ideas and insights within my personal pantheon. While a degree of narcissism is somewhat inevitable for the magician, ideally this process is one slow evolution rather than merely being brash consumerism. In the pursuit of depth in my relationship with god-forms, I cast a spell on my self as their faces are reflected in my art, relationships and the altars I make.

Secondly, I think that many of us seek models of divine multiplicity because they more accurately reflect our experience of self. As human beings trying to make sense of our universe, we have to deal with a whole host of competing desires and demands as we try and prioritise the needs of individual, family and tribe. These competing and sometimes conflicting needs then become translated into self-states that we oscillate between, dependant on a complex mash-up of genes, conditioning and personality structure. To experience such tensions seems to be an inevitable part of the human condition and it is perhaps unsurprising that we seek spiritual myths and metaphors that make sense of them.

My own interest in weird cosmologies like that of the Process and the early Gnostics is that the maps that they were working with seem to have a more creative engagement with both darkness and dynamic tension. Unlike the rather safe stylings of a Father, Son and Holy Spirit who are rarely at odds with each other, the various players of the Gnostic stage often represent stages of unfolding and the resolution of various core conflicts. It was hardly surprising that as Jung sought to evolve his model of depth psychology, he found so much of interest in these strange waters. Such rich mythic multiplicities steer us away from the shallows of safe ‘belief’ and ask that we push out into the depths of the unknown.

Bon Voyage!

Here are a few recent additions to my library that I thought you might like to check out…

The first is Momento Mori by Paul Koudounaris. This book gathers together some breathtaking photographs by the author that focus on the ritual uses of dead humans by the living. The collection spans images of skeletons dressed in gem encrusted raiment in Germany, the charnel houses of Europe (notably the astonishing Sedlec Ossurary in the Czech Republic where human remains are used to construct baroque ceiling ornaments and skulls cover every wall), and many more locations. The household skull spirits of Bolivia are photographed, as are the gilded corpses of long dead Buddhist monks, and the tragic monuments to those people murdered by the Khmer Rouge in Cambodia. This amazing collection of images is introduced by an erudite essay which explores how the material remains of our ancestors have, by and large, become excluded from the day-to-day experience of many (post) Protestant cultures; contrasting this attitude with current global and historical contexts which show that this is an unusual disconnection. This isn’t a morbid or gruesome book, rather one that explores with text and astonishing images, how we make sense of death and maintain our relationships with those who have gone before us.

Bone yard

The next two volumes take as their subject drugs. The first, Mystic Chemist by Dieter Hagenbach and Lucius Werthmüller (with forward by Stanislav Grof), is a biography of Albert Hofmann. This is a detailed account, with numerous illustrations, of the life of Hofmann himself and his problem/wonder child LSD. There are some great tales here and Hofmann comes across as a thoughtful, kindly and dedicated person. Also included is some broader cultural analysis of the influence of LSD on art, science and other fields.

Continuing the etheogenic part of this trip, the third journal this year from Psychedelic Press is out now, maintaining the very high standard of writing that I’ve seen in the previous editions. Material from personal, legal, ethnographic, scientific and other perspectives make these volumes a real delight to read. There’s some ground breaking research being reported in these collections too, so if you want to get hip to what the psychedelic intelligentsia are up to these days I recommend a subscription. For example, in Volume II from this year historian of the counter culture, Andy Roberts, did a great job of refuting the oft repeated story (which actually appears in Mystic Chemist) that Francis Crick got his insight into the configuration of the DNA molecule while high on acid.

Acid-head before acid

Another slice of counter-cultural goodness is available in the form of The Trials of Arthur by C.J.Stone. In this book, which has elements of gonzo journalism, we follow the story of one King Arthur. Not the first incarnation of that Once and Future King but his modern iteration as an ex-squaddie biker/druid activist costumed hero, who waged a dogged battle against The Man to allow unrestricted access to Stonehenge, and was an important part of the Thatcher years road protest movement.

The Sword and the Stone

This is a deeply magical books where the symbolic identity of King Arthur, though a series of synchronous events and high strangeness, becomes linked to a chap called John Timothy Rothwell (born 5 April 1954). As the revelation of this identity unfolds our modern Arthur gathers his knights around him and sets of on various quests. The question of the ‘truth’ about Rothwell’s identification as King Arthur (as either a reincarnation of the ancient King or classic British eccentric, or both) is explored. The notion that there may be many ways to read this phenomena (as C.J.Stone and I suspect Arthur himself would admit) is maintained, while clearly showing both the symbolic power of that royal archetype, and the bravery of this individual (Arthur refused to wear prison issue clothes while on remand and was put naked into solitary confinement for quite some time). This is an important slice of counter-cultural history and describes how an inspired and magical approach to protest can affect real social change. People engaged with the Realpolitik of opposition and cultural transformation, who are inspired by occulture, should read this book. This volume elegantly describes how magic can practically bring about real changes in the world.