TANTRA, MAGIC, AND THE WEST
TANTRA, MAGIC, AND THE WEST
... Apollonius ... carries with him a commendatory letter to the Brahmins ... Here these admirable eastern magicians present him with such rarities as in very truth he was not capable of. First of all they shew him—as Philostratus describes it—a certain azure or sky-coloured
water, and this tincture was extremely predominant in it, but with much light and brightness.... Apollonius confesseth how the Brahmins told him afterwards that this water was a certain secret water and that there was hid under it or within it a blood-red earth.
Thomas Vaughan, The Fraternity of the Rosy Cross
As mentioned in the previous chapter, two of the most influential occultists of the West in the last 100 years are P. B. Randolph (1825–1875) and Aleister Crowley (1875–1947). While other names may be better known—H. P. Blavatsky, Manley Palmer Hall, Krishnamurti—Randolph and Crowley were interested less in repeating or revising the hermetic and occult writings of the past than they were in blazing new paths and
developing an entirely new esoteric paradigm. It is from studies of Randolph and Crowley that a generation of both practitioners and academics has arisen in the last thirty years, a generation that is re-evaluating Western occultism and making it a field of serious study and respect. Much of this has to do with the interest generated by Kabbalah studies on the one hand, and by Tantric studies on the other.
The interpenetration of these two fields has provided us with a means of appreciating the richness and depth of a literature and a praxis that has been dismissed too often by mainstream scholars. The relevance for Javanese studies rests in the pragmatic integration of
sexo-magical practices from diverse sources that characterizes Western occultism. Many of these sources are identical to those that helped form the Hindu-
Javanese experience. Hindu and Buddhist forms of Tantra are foremost in this Western phenomenon, which developed hundreds of years after a similar approach took root in Java. Indeed, the blending of Islamic and Hindu esoteric philosophies and practices that we
find in Java are duplicated to some extent in Europe and the Americas, and in particular in the modern secret society, the Ordo Templi Orientis or OTO.
As this chapter's epigraph illustrates, the belief that the famous Greek magician of the first century CE, Apollonius of Tyana, visited India where he learned the secrets of alchemy and the amrita was current at the time that the
Rosicrucian Fraternity was being introduced in the 17th century. The author of the quotation is Thomas Vaughan, a Welsh alchemist whose works are thinly veiled descriptions of the Tantric aspect of alchemy. Vaughan is believed to have perished due to “unguided autonomous nervous system
experiments,” according to Kenneth Rexroth in his Foreword to Vaughan's collected works—certainly a bizarre claim if Vaughan's alchemy had been strictly of the chemical or mineral kind. What makes this all the more interesting is the fact that this reference to Apollonius, India, and the “secret water” takes place in an essay on the Rosicrucian Fraternity.
The 19th and 20th centuries were rife with organizations claiming a Rosicrucian lineage. These include groups founded by Randolph and Crowley, as well as the Golden Dawn. With Randolph and Crowley, we have substantial and irrefutable evidence that their focus was on precisely this “biological” aspect of magic and alchemy, and on the “autonomous nervous system experiments” that it is said killed not only Vaughan, but also his wife.
The history of Randolph, Crowley, and their colleagues has been told in several places in greater or lesser detail, so we will not spend too much time on it here. Rather, we will focus on the element of their work that most concerns us and that has attracted the greatest attention from specialists and casual observers alike—the interpretation of sexuality within spiritual and esoteric contexts.
The Brotherhood of Eulis
One night—it was in far-off Jerusalem or Bethlehem, I really forget which—I made love to, and was loved by, a dusky maiden of Arabic blood. I of her, and that experience, learned—not directly, but by suggestion—the fundamental principle of the White Magic of Love; subsequently I became affiliated with
some dervishes and fakirs of whom, by suggestion still, I found the road to other knowledges; and of these devout practicers of a simple, but sublime and holy magic, I obtained additional clues—little threads of suggestion, which, being persistently followed, led my soul into labyrinths of knowledge
themselves did not even suspect the existence of. I became practically, what I was naturally—a mystic, and in time chief of the lofty brethren; taking the clues left by the masters, and pursuing them farther than they had ever been before; actually discovering the ELIXIR OF LIFE; the universal Solvent, or celestial Alkahest; the water of beauty and perpetual youth, and the philosopher's stone ...
We begin with a look at Pascal Beverly Randolph, certainly one of the most enigmatic figures of the 19th century, and one who wielded enormous influence over the growth of secret societies in the 20th century. Randolph, an African-American spiritualist, became involved in more extreme forms of occultism while visiting
Europe and the Middle East. It is the knowledge—and, perhaps, the initiations—received abroad that led him to create his own secret society, the Brotherhood of Eulis. The Brotherhood was based on his system of occultism, which included sex, drugs, and a method of communication and divination through the use of magic mirrors.
The term “Eulis” is problematic, and seems to have been Randolph's own creation. At times, he connected it with the Eleusinian mysteries, an ancient (circa 1500 BCE) form of worship that was based on the story of Demeter, Persephone, and Hades, the lord of the Underworld. Like the annual
festival of Inanna and Dumuzi, this was an agriculturally based celebration commemorating the time of the year when Persephone was held in the Underworld and the land above lay fallow. The celebration of the Eleusinian mysteries took place annually in Greece for nearly 2000 years, until the fourth century CE, making it one of the longest-lasting initiatory cults in history. It allowed men and women, slave and free, to become initiated into its secrets, which to this day have never been discovered or revealed. This rite became the basis for a theatrical presentation by Aleister Crowley known as the Rites of Eleusis.
Another possible meaning for “Eulis” is grounded in the Greek root eos, meaning “dawn.” Regardless of the ultimate meaning, the Brotherhood of Eulis was based on a spiritualized interpretation of human sexuality and the application of sexuality to magical power. The Brotherhood became the source for several other societies that were spun off from Eulis or inspired by it. As we have
seen, Randolph claimed to have discovered the secret of the elixir vitae, the amrita of the Indian Tantricists, which he calls the “water of beauty and perpetual youth.” That this was somehow connected with sexuality and with drugs leads us to the impression that he was dabbling in a form of
Tantra, with all the transgressive ritual that this implies. At the same time, his discussion of sexuality is always very conservative and respectful of the married state and of “soul union.”
Whether Randolph discovered the elixir vitae or not, his obsession with it has fueled Western esotericism for hundreds of years. At least since the days of the Fama Fraternitatis in the 17th century, when the Rosicrucian Society first made its appearance, the quest for immortality has been linked with the transmutation of metals. Alchemy and immortality go hand-in-hand, and not only in
the West. Chinese alchemy, for instance, shares the same dream. In Java, the temple of amrita at Candi Sukuh also depicts the ironworker manufacturing the sacred kriss. There is an association between transmutation and immortality that at first seems contrived, until we realize that the ancients believed that metals evolved over the course of thousands of years.
Long before Darwin and his study of human and animal evolution, the belief in the evolution of metals and souls dominated alchemical thought and practice. Gold, according to this theory, is the highest form of metal and all metals are gradually turning into gold;
it is their apotheosis. The Philosopher's Stone, mentioned above by Randolph in the same breath as the elixir of life, is a substance that accelerates the process of evolution and enables the alchemist to change lead (the least evolved metal) into
gold (the most evolved), the symbol of perfection, both of metals and of the human soul. Those who can control the process of evolution become immortal. Disease and sickness are traits associated with the lesser metals, while control over the evolutionary process indicates an active role
in Creation itself. Lead is metal in an imperfect state that is eventually destroyed as it transforms into higher and higher forms of metal. Gold alone is indestructible—i.e., it cannot evolve into a higher metal. It has reached its state of perfection and is immune to disease and decay.
Sexuality, then, is a biological function in service to human evolution; hence the wide range of sexual metaphors and analogies we find in alchemical texts (as well as in Kabbalistic literature). It mimics on a human plane what takes place on the plane of metals and plants. Randolph called this process “affectional alchemy.”
In the Randolph scheme, the affectional alchemical process required the commingling of both male and female essences in the sexual act]]. That means that the act required both a man and a woman, excluded the use of condoms or other birth control devices, and required that ejaculation take place within
the female's vulva so that specific male and female secretions would take place and mix. This composite mixture, called “magnetic” in Randolph's phraseology, fulfills “God's purpose in bi-sexing man.” The secretions were identified in Randolph's work as those from Cowper's Glands (source of the pre-ejaculate fluid in men) and from the Glands of Duvernay (actually Bartholin; the Duvernay glands were discovered in cows), which provide some lubrication for the vagina during intercourse. Neither of these two fluids has any function
known to science other than as lubricant for the sex organs during intercourse, but to Randolph, they were elements of the water of immortality and were possessed of secret, “magnetic” properties that lead to a “bi-sexing” of the human organism.
To Randolph, as to most alchemists, Kabbalists, and Tantricists, the androgyne is a symbol of perfection. Each one of us possesses elements of both genders to a greater or lesser extent. As we will see in the section on Crowley, this concept was elevated to the status, not only of doctrine, but also of ritual.
Aleister Crowley and Tantra
... I would suggest that the key differences between traditional forms of Tantra and Crowley's system lies not in the details of sexual union but rather in the emphasis that is placed on sex in the first place.
(Emphasis in original)
A search through the book that can arguably be called Crowley's most famous—Magick: in Theory and Practice—reveals references to Hindu mysticism and yoga in nearly every chapter. Terms like asana, prana, pranayama, samadhi, and nirvana abound, and many of the practices prescribed for followers of Crowley's unique form of ceremonial magic include yoga and meditation. This is certainly not what one would find in an
examination of the European grimoires that form the basic texts of magic, and it is not something he would have learned from his time with the British secret society, the Golden Dawn.
It is therefore equally surprising to realize that there is virtually no mention in this text of Tantra itself. The references to sexually based occult practices are there, of course (this is Aleister Crowley, after all), but in a predominantly Western context in the form of the Rose and the Cross, or the Gnostic Mass, etc. What Crowley does do is refer his students to a handful of texts
translated from Sanskrit and Pali that can be found in the Sacred Books of the East series that was virtually the only source of Hindu, Buddhist, and Daoist scriptures at the time (the early 20th century). The texts he recommends include the Shiva Samhita and the Hathayoga Pradipika, as well as the Yoga Aphorisms of Patanjali's and the Dhammapada.
While Crowley's emphasis is clearly on yoga and the intensive training of the mind in meditation for the attainment of mystical illumination, the Shiva Samhita in particular can be considered a Tantric text, as it connects the practices of asana, mudra, and pranayama
with the attainment of supernatural powers, and also provides a brief discussion of Kundalini and the pathways known as ida, pingala, and sushumna. Indeed, the Shiva Samhita is in the form of a dialogue between Shiva and Parvati and, in that sense, is consistent with other Tantric works.
The sources for Crowley's education in matters Indological can be identified easily enough. The Theosophical Society began as a Western-oriented occult society when it was founded in 1875 in New York City, but its creator and spiritual guru, Madame Helena Blavatsky, quickly abandoned Euro-centered occult literature for an approach that was largely Asian. Her emphasis switched from
Kabbalah and Hermeticism to Buddhism and Hinduism, leaving the field open to groups like the Golden Dawn and the Societas Rosicruciana in Anglia (and its associated Societas Rosicruciana in America) to concentrate on the Western esoteric tradition. Crowley was quite familiar with both
areas of study, and was proud to notice that his birth year and that of the Theosophical Society were the same. The Society was, in fact, the best-known occult society in the West for many years, and has survived to the
present day with branches throughout the world. Its headquarters were moved to India during Blavatsky's lifetime, and it became influential in the Indian independence movement, as well as in the independence movement of other Asian countries.
At one point, Crowley even attempted to gain control of the Society—an attempt that was never in any real danger of succeeding, but that demonstrates the extent to which Crowley identified with the organization and its Asian-centered approach to esoteric matters.
Other than the Theosophists, Crowley's other real contact with Asian religion and mysticism came in the form of his good friend and colleague—one would even say mentor—Allan Bennett, who was one of the first Englishmen to be ordained a Buddhist monk and who introduced
Buddhism to England. Bennett's role in promoting Buddhism has never been forgotten; Theravadin monks of the author's acquaintance from Sri Lanka (where Bennett studied under Sri Parananda in the early years of the 20th century) still revere his memory under his religious name, Bhikku Ananda Metteya.
Bennett was a member of the Golden Dawn, the British secret society that has produced such notable figures of modern occultism as Crowley, Arthur Edward Waite, MacGregor Mathers, and even Nobel Prize-winning poet William Butler Yeats. The Golden Dawn's origins are controversial.
The claim that they were the British branch of a German Masonic society was regarded as a hoax for many years, until recent scholarship has suggested that these claims may be true. Regardless of the society's actual origins, the organizers were members of the Societas Rosicruciana in Anglia, a putative Rosicrucian order that was formed by Freemasons.
Crowley joined the Golden Dawn in 1898, received his revelation concerning the Law of Thelema in Cairo in 1904, and then joined the Ordo Templi Orientis (OTO) in 1910, receiving a charter for the OTO in Great Britain and Ireland in 1912. The dates are deceptively simple, for the impact that the Golden Dawn and OTO initiations had on both Crowley and on Western occultism since those years has been far-reaching.
The Golden Dawn taught an organized system of ceremonial magic based on the Kabbalistic Tree of Life and Egyptian mythology. This system includes an initiated version of the tarot cards, of astrology, and of the Angelic Tablets of Dr. John Dee and Edward Kelley, two Elizabethan-era
magicians who claimed to have received, not only a system of magic directly from the angels, but also an angelic language with a grammar, syntax, and vocabulary all its own. The Golden Dawn system was nothing short of brilliant, for
it brought order into the messy world of grimoires, talismans, and occult ritual of the Middle Ages and beyond. Crowley easily climbed the grades of the Golden Dawn and married the sister of one of its members, taking her on a honeymoon to Cairo where, in April of 1904, he received the
Book of the Law, a testament that became his sacred scripture and the core document of the movement that grew up around it: Thelema (Greek for “will”).
It is important to note that there was nothing overtly Tantric or sexual about the magic that was taught at the lodges of the Golden Dawn. It was all very Victorian and very proper—to the extent that ceremonial magic can be considered “proper.” There was no nudity, no real or mimed
sexual acts, no suggestive language. That said, the Golden Dawn did admit members of both genders and did acknowledge the role of goddesses as well as gods in the Egyptian pantheon they adopted.
Crowley's own Book of the Law, however, did contain material that was Tantric in tone, if not in nature. The Book is divided into three chapters, the first of which contains the words of the Egyptian goddess Nuit. Her admonitions concerning “wine and strange drugs” and her overtly sexual
language about how she should be worshipped are evidence of a tendency toward the Tantric—or “tantroid”—that became increasingly shrill in Crowley's ouevre. The second chapter is that of Hadit, the male counterpart of Nuit,
with more suggestive language and sexual references. The third and final chapter contains the words of Ra-Hoor-Khuit, the “Crowned and Conquering Child” of the New Aeon, or New Age. This, the most controversial chapter, contains militant language and rather vile imprecations concerning the world's
religions. The transgressive nature of the Book of the Law so upset Crowley himself that he put it away and ignored it for years, while continuing to practice magic and occultism and maintaining his friendship with other occultists like Alan Bennett, who had since retired to Asia to become a Buddhist monk.
It is entirely possible—though so far not proven—that Crowley's knowledge of Tantra came from his travels in India and other parts of Asia, and from his conversations with Bennett. This is the kind of narrative with which scholars of religion have become all too familiar: the European who
goes to the mysterious East and comes back with arcane knowledge. Although this may be said to have begun with Marco Polo, it includes personalities both real and mythical like Christian Rosenkreutz, Apollonius of Tyana, and even
Prester John. Since the 19th century, when Sir Richard Burton gave us his famous travelogues among the mysterious shamans of India and Arabia, all sorts of adventurers, spies, mercenaries, soldiers, mystics, and adepts have found themselves on the Journey to the East with greater or lesser
success. This phenomenon was roundly criticized by Edward Said, who deplored the archetype of the civilized European gentleman who dips his toe into the brackish
waters of the Ganges and comes back with tales alternately thrilling and disgusting of exotic lands, savagery, and beauty—tales that revealed more about the English imagination than it did about the foreign lands themselves.
This was precisely the image conjured up by the founders of the Ordo Templi Orientis—the Order of the Temple of the East. Their narrative includes the origins of their Order in the travels of their founder, Carl Kellner, who spent time in the Middle East and came back with the sexual secrets of Sufi and Indian mystics (a story that runs parallel to that of Randolph).
According to tradition, Crowley's occult writings up to that point (c. 1910) contained several veiled references to sexuality in a Rosicrucian context that attracted the attention of the OTO. The Order decided to initiate Crowley into its membership with the aim of preventing him from revealing any more secrets, however innocent or inadvertent the previous revelations had been. When Crowley
realized the sexual aspect of his work up to that point, he felt illuminated and energized and set to work creating a comprehensive approach to magic and spirituality that would raise human sexuality to its rightful place. It also enabled him to revisit the Book of the Law and to accept the openly
transgressive element of the more offensive passages as being essential to his unique process of genuine spiritual attainment. What Crowley had done—perhaps without being aware of it—was to write a peculiarly Western Tantra.
As noted previously, the Indian Tantras are written in the form of a dialogue between Shiva and Parvati (Shakti). The goal of the dialogue is to reveal certain secrets of the universe through myth, ritual, and occult instruction. In Crowley's Book, there are three chapters, each dictated by one of three Egyptian gods: Nuit, Hadit, and Ra-Hoor-Khuit. Nuit is the quintessential female
goddess, while Hadit is her male counterpart. The presence of Ra-Hoor-Khuit, however, brings the traditional form of Tantra into a new dimension. The focus moves from the female-male polarity of Indian Tantricism to a third party: the Crowned and Conquering Child, the product of the
hieros gamos. The third chapter repudiates all other existing religions and insists on replacing them—all of them—with a new vision and a new form of spirituality of which magic is the tool.
Egyptian religion is not the sole reference point for the Book of the Law, however. The very first chapter mentions the Beast and the Scarlet Woman, personalities famous from the New Testament's Book of Revelation (Book of the Apocalypse). This infamous couple, who are signifiers of great evil in the
Bible, become identified with the prophet of the New Aeon—Crowley himself—and his Bride. It is important to note that Crowley had a succession of these Brides, called Scarlet Women, whose function was purely ritualistic. By any metric, these women can be understood to have served as the shaktis in Crowley's unique system of magic and Tantra.
We now enter what is probably the most problematic aspect of Crowley's life work—his relationships with a string of Scarlet Women and other sexual partners, male and female, who were involved with him in his pursuit of the Great Work. The fact that some of these partners fared rather poorly in the process is
well-documented, beginning with his first wife, Rose Kelley, who was committed to an asylum for alcoholism in 1911 (eight years after their marriage and the ensuing birth of their two children, one of whom died less than two years after she was born).
That Crowley had a succession of mistresses and wives and also frequented prostitutes is well-known. That this seemed scandalous in Victorian England is understandable, but we often observe the same behavior among Tantric adepts in India. On the one hand, it is too easy to claim that Crowley's sexuality was that of an initiate of the great mysteries and therefore beyond our ken, that we are incapable of judging him or his behavior
because we have not attained the same level of initiation. On the other hand, it is also too easy to take at face value the stories that were printed about him in the tabloid press and condemn him outright for them.
Crowley's biographers—and there have been many—have done their best to separate the lies from the truth, a task made more difficult rather than easier by the publication of Crowley's own diaries and autobiography. His references to prostitutes, mistresses, homosexual encounters, masturbation, animal sacrifice, and drug use (hashish, opium, heroin, etc) are legion; what is remarkable is that most (if not all) of these references are within
the context of magical workings and rites of divination. Clearly, this can be interpreted as Crowley justifying his actions by appeal to a higher, occult purpose. Perhaps there is no reliable way of understanding the truth of Crowley's career without following in his rather moist footsteps, but that is a subject for another book entirely.
What we will do here, instead, is look at some of what he has written specifically on the subject of occult sexuality and interpret it using what we know of Tantra, and especially of the syncretistic form of Tantra we have uncovered in Java.
Probably the most blatant expression of Crowley's ideas concerning sexuality and magic is a short pamphlet of twenty pages usually entitled De Arte Magica that was first published in 1914.83 In this text, he writes of the elixir of life and uses primarily alchemical symbols like the Red Lion and
the White Eagle. However, he also includes references to prana as well as to the sefirot of the Kabbalistic Tree of Life, and both thinly veiled sexual allusions and more blatant references to semen, menstrual blood, and other bodily fluids. The usual claim is made that this is the great secret at the heart of magic and occultism, and those who possess it have complete power over nature and the elements and can bend the
universe to their will. In all of this, we can see similarities to the form of Tantra we find in Java—the syncretism, the importance of the elixir of life, the sexual allusions, and even the occasional references to prana and other Indian concepts.
Crowley goes somewhat further in this text, however, by gradually abandoning the “twilight language” and expressing the ideas and the technology more openly. In one place, he openly advocates the consumption of the “elixir”—the bodily fluids generated by sexual intercourse—and in another he extends the discussion to a form of deliberate sexual exhaustion he refers to as “eroto-comatose
lucidity.”84 In chapter 16 of De Arte Magica, which is entitled “Of certain Hindu theories,” we find what may be Crowley's first mention of the word “Tantra” when he refers to the Shiva Samhita. In this chapter, he also refers to the practice of the vajroli mudra (see chapter 5), but without
mentioning it by name. He seems focused on the idea that the male Indian Tantrika does not ejaculate, but retains his semen. While this is true for some Tantric practices, it is not true for all. It was, however, a common perception among the scholars of Crowley's time, and to some extent remains so.85
Crowley's reference to the Shiva Samhita, certainly one of the most explicit of the Tantras, is interesting, because it contains an admonition to retain semen at all costs in its fourth chapter, the section dealing with the vajroli mudra. An edition dedicated to
the Theosophical Society that was published in 1887 contains the clear language of the original.86 The more recent edition by James Mallinson claims to have restored some text excised from the Sris Chandra Vasu translation that specifically concerns the vajroli mudra. While the two translations are not identical, however, there does not seem to be anything missing in that regard.87
The Shiva Samhita contains the phrase: “Death arises through the falling of semen.”88 It urges adepts to retain semen at all costs—thus the
recommendation to practice the vajroli mudra, the “vacuuming” of the seminal fluid from the vagina after ejaculation if, indeed, ejaculation has taken place. De Arte Magica, however, speaks clearly about the consumption of the mingled male and female fluids and goes so far, in the chapter on “eroto-comatose lucidity,” as to recommend complete sexual exhaustion. This seems to be the antithesis of the practices recommended in the Shiva Samhita.89
One thing is clear, however; for Crowley, as for the Indian Tantrikas, the sex act itself represents the essence of magic. Variations of the sex act—positions, fluids, partners—are different elements of a complex technology of spiritual attainment. Each
variation produces a different effect. The fact that some groups emphasize abstinence, others the avoidance of ejaculation, and still others the ejaculation and consumption of fluids does not indicate levels of moral or ethical superiority, but different paths leading ultimately to the same end—transformation of human consciousness into something resembling cosmic consciousness.
That sexuality and magic are inextricably linked is underlined by the Kabbalah—not only in the general way that the Shekinah is understood as a female quality of Godhead, but in some specifics as well.
Moshe Idel points out, for instance, that the Hebrew term shimmush designates “magical operations” as well as “copulation.” Another term, rendered by the Hebrew letters ZQQ, “denotes both having a sexual relationship and making some form of invocation.”90 This meme seems to be at the heart of Western
magic, as it is of Tantric practices. Tantra, for all its emphasis on sexuality, is also the most occult of the Indian religious practices. It is often identified with the acquisition of supernatural powers (the
siddhis), as well as with spiritual attainments. Because of the use of mantras (which are considered magic spells in the West) and yantras (the equivalent of magic seals and talismans), Tantra is both magical and sexual. There should be no surprise that
a magician with the scientific approach that Crowley promoted would be as drawn to Tantra as he would be to Kabbalah and Egyptian magic. One holds the key to the other.
Crowley's use of alchemical imagery in De Arte Magica was relatively rare in his other published work, however. While he correctly understood the sexual aspects of alchemical terminology, it is doubtful whether he was able to interpret alchemical texts successfully from a purely (or largely) sexual perspective while maintaining the chemical (and psychological) levels of interpretation at the same time.
In another text, the outline of what he called the Cephaloedium Working that was conducted at the end of 1920, we have sexual references that are so explicit they verge on the humorous:
Aiwaz is spelt Ayin, the Eye, i.e. that of Shiva or Horus, the Meatus Penis and the Anus: Yod, the Phallus, Spermatozoon, and Hand; Vau the Fertility of the Testes and Uterus as well as the Nail of the mentula, being Taurus the Cow Isis and the Bull
Apis or Shiva, the Son in Tetragrammaton, the Redeemer by Reproduction, the Mithraic Bull of Resurrection and Initiation in the strength of the Body. .. And spelt fully Ayin is the Erection and Leaping and Extension of the Phallus; Yod is the Spermatozoon, the Solitary Boy Hermes, the Virgin; while Nun is the Eagle of sexual Ecstasy ...91
You get the picture.
The above would be viewed with horror by modern religious studies scholars and anthropologists as the worst sort of universalism. We have Hebrew letters mixed with Indian and Egyptian terms and gods, Mithraism, and so many sexual references that the insistence
seems deliberate—an attempt to convince oneself. For instance, the Bull is simultaneously that of the Egyptian god Apis, the Indian god Shiva, and the bull of the Mithraic initiation process—not to mention the “Fertility of the Testes and Uterus.” However, we should not allow ourselves to be dismayed by what appears to be a flagrant disregard for scholarly rectitude. What Crowley is doing is decoding the twilight language in which the esoteric texts were written. While we may suggest that sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, in the context of this ritual, the biological references are appropriate.
In this same spirit of excessive transgression, Crowley describes the female partner or shakti—the Scarlet Woman—in these terms:
... Léa my concubine, in whom is all power given. sworn unto Aiwaz, prostituted in every part of her body to Pan and to the Beast, mother of bastards, aborter, whore to herself, to man, woman, child and brute, partaker of the Eucharist of the Excrements in the Mass of the Devil ...92
The shocking mention of something called the “Eucharist of the Excrements” has its parallel in the Kalachakra initiation ritual, where a vase of urine and a vase of feces occupy positions in the “pristine consciousness” mandala, as Jeffrey Hopkins, translator and editor of the definitive text on this Tibetan Buddhist initiation written by the Dalai Lama himself, tells us:
The two vases in the east are filled with purified marrow; those in the south, with purified blood; those in the north, with purified urine; those in the west with purified excrement. Above and below, there are also vases filled with purified semen and menses respectively. They are on lotuses and are covered with lotuses.93
This initiation, again according to Hopkins, had its origins in Java with the initiation by Atisha of Pindo Acharya, the “famous Kalachakra master.”94 While the scatological references in Crowley may be due more to Crowley's own desire to be as extreme as possible in pursuit of forbidden knowledge rather than an insight into the more scandalous forms of Tibetan Tantrism, it is possible that the basic impulse is the same in both cases—a
desire to overcome dualistic ideas of purity and filth, of what is acceptable and what is automatically rejected. Transgressive sexuality is followed to its logical conclusion: the sexualization (and hence sacralization) of all human biological emissions and substances.
This approach has been solidified in what is perhaps Crowley's longest-lasting (or best-known) legacy, the secret society known as the Ordo Templi Orientis, or OTO. The higher degrees of this society are known to embody secrets pertaining to sexuality in its spiritual manifestations. The rituals for the VIII,
IX, and XI degrees are not written down, but are believed to represent solitary sexuality, sexual intercourse, and anal or possibly homosexual sexuality, respectively. That this is a gross oversimplification is
certain. The VIII degree may as easily represent abstinence and celibacy as self-gratification, for instance. The IX may represent the alchemical secret of the Rose and Cross, etc. When we are dealing with occultism, however, we are speaking in “twilight language,” in which one set of symbols can be
used to encode analogous processes in other systems. Recourse to Crowley's own writings reveals the practical application of some of these sexual secrets, so failing an actual initiation into the OTO or a similar order, it is up to the reader to make what use of it he or she is able.
Crowley lived at a time when serious research into Tantra had only just begun. Many of the most important texts had not yet been translated, or had been translated inexpertly. Moreover, Crowley was not fluent in any of the Indian languages, so did not have access to the deeper levels of meaning hidden within the texts that were available. It required scholars like David Gordon White
and Hugh Urban—decades after Crowley's death in 1947—to reveal the close relationship between alchemy and Tantra, and to provide scholars and magicians alike with the context for understanding the alchemical process as a biological one, while not abandoning the other levels of
interpretation (and praxis) that are equally relevant and important. The tools that are available today for a serious re-evaluation and rejuvenation of Western esotericism are many and powerful, and we can expect that a 21st-century version of the Golden Dawn may yet take advantage of these developments.
Sex, Magic, and Politics
In Javanese history, many of the Hindu-Buddhist kings were Tantrikas; those that were not often had Tantric priests as members of their courts. This open consolidation of esoteric with political power is unusual. In the West, we have the occasional example of a king or an emperor with an avid interest in occultism, alchemy, or hermeticism who brings experts in these fields to his court. Sometimes the goal is purely mercenary: hiring alchemists to make gold, for instance. In other cases, however, the hermetic arts
had actual patrons in the royal houses of Europe. Still, it was rare to find a monarch that openly practiced magic or alchemy. Remember that Europe was the scene of the Inquisition and the witchcraft trials and, later, the wars of the Reformation. The Church had such a hold on the spirituality of the people that any deviation, no matter how benign, was punishable by imprisonment and
death. One only has to remember what happened to Giordano Bruno or Galileo Galilei to understand that even scientists and philosophers were not exempt from this persecution and could find themselves sharing a prison—and a stake—with illiterate peasant women accused of witchcraft or poisoning their neighbors' cows. Even a powerful entity like the Knights Templar was disbanded, its members arrested, its lands confiscated, and its leaders executed.
In Java, there was (and still is) room for spiritual experimentation. At the time the Templars were being persecuted in Europe, Tantra was enjoying tremendous support in the courts of the Javanese kings. Perhaps this was due to a Javanese perception that there exists in the world a
“hidden force” that is represented equally by the world of politics and by the world of spirituality and magic, and that one factor connecting these worlds is sexuality.95
The relationship between charisma and sexuality is an interesting one, a field that is little understood because it is so controversial. We have seen, in the West, how a politician's sexuality can destroy his career, particularly if it is of a “transgressive” nature—extra-marital affairs, homosexuality, pedophilia, etc. Some of our most attractive politicians—the most charismatic and dynamic—have been womanizers or have been accused of being
so: Jack Kennedy, Robert Kennedy, Bill Clinton, Martin Luther King. The tension, especially in America, between sexuality and public life, and thus between politics and religion, is such that no calm and objective approach is possible. It is virtually heretical (in a secular way) to suggest that Jack Kennedy's sex life might have been an integral part of his personality as a charismatic and visionary leader.
While Americans applaud the separation of church and state that is guaranteed by the Bill of Rights and the Constitution, they still apply strict religious perspectives to their political leaders and expect them to be “spiritually” pure as well as politically astute—a state of affairs that those in other nations find somewhat humorous or, at the least, confusing.
Adultery and homosexuality are viewed by pious Americans as threats to the sanctity (or spiritual integrity) of marriage. Marriage is considered to be a union so fragile, so tenuous, that assaults upon it are legion—especially those we cannot see. There is a raging discourse in America
concerning the rights of homosexuals to marry, the argument being that allowing homosexuals the same rights as heterosexuals somehow undermines straight marriages. The logic is hard to follow, but may have more to do with how marriage and sexuality were understood by America's European ancestors than with religion itself.
Since the history of love and marriage in the West has been shown to be a topic worthy of several large volumes, I will not attempt to duplicate the efforts of other authors in these pages, but will instead suggest that the central, legal concern of marriage in the West is property and inheritance. Any study of European history will show that succession—of kings and queens—was a constant
obsession in the courts. There had to be a legitimate heir; the bloodline was more important than competence or capability. An outsider (a commoner) could not hope to ascend the throne, no matter how brilliant. Thus, love was irrelevant to the condition of sexual reproduction and the manufacture of legitimate heirs.
In the life of everyday people, property was still an issue. Deciding who would inherit property after the death of a parent became a jurisprudential obstacle course. Different cultures and different religions had widely differing opinions and laws on inheritance. An illegitimate child could not hope to inherit, thus implying that bloodline and community sanction was necessary for
the peaceful transfer of real estate. This may be among the many reasons why cultures have forbidden homosexuals to marry, for their children would almost certainly not be their own or, at the very least, not the product of both parents, even if artificial insemination came into play. Without a “legitimate” heir,
property ownership could not be determined. If the children of homosexual couples were permitted to inherit, then illegitimate children of heterosexual couples could be considered viable heirs as well.
That this was true, not only for monarchs, but also for the citizens of the realm is underlined by the typical marriage ceremonies of India, Malaysia, Indonesia, and even Eastern Europe and Greece. In these ceremonies, the wedding couple is considered king and queen for the duration of the ceremony. They are treated as royalty. In the Russian Orthodox Church, the couple wears crowns of
gold. In the Greek Orthodox Church, the crowns may be of flowers, but they are nonetheless crowns. The association of marriage with political power and rule—with the monarchy—is thereby acknowledged, and the association of marriage, political power, and sexuality is made manifest. Even in the Chymical Wedding of Christian Rosenkreutz, the married couple at the heart of the mystery are a king and queen.
This demonstrates the nexus between power and sexuality. The rules concerning ownership of a farm are mirrored in those of the ownership of a country. A lawful marriage is a prerequisite; but the state's involvement in married life does not end there. As Michel Foucault has pointed out:
Up to the end of the eighteenth century, three major explicit codes—apart from customary regularities and constraints of opinion—governed sexual practices: canonical law, the Christian pastoral, and civil law. They determined, each in its own way, the division between licit and illicit. They were all centered on matrimonial relations: the marital obligation, the ability to fulfill it, the
manner in which one complied with it, the requirements and violences that accompanied it, the useless or unwarranted caresses for which it was a pretext, its fecundity or the way one went about making it sterile, the moments when one demanded it ... its frequency or infrequency, and so on. ... The sex of husband and wife was beset by rules and recommendations.96
Thus, what a man and woman do together, even on the matrimonial bed, is subject to proscriptions and prescriptions, inhibitions and prohibitions. What is transgressive in this environment is not only the standard “crimes” of adultery and homosexuality, but virtually any sexual act that does not have reproduction—the creation of property and an heir to property—as its goal. An
adulterous liaison does not produce a legitimate heir; nor do homosexual liaisons. This idea was extended to oral intercourse and anal intercourse as well, which were condemned because they were not capable of producing a human child. This relationship between sexuality and property has been the dark shadow behind all public discourse about marriage, sex, deviation, etc.—no less in the civil arena than in the sacred spaces.
Is it any wonder, then, that the Tantric circle was vilified, not only by British colonialists, but by Indian Brahmins as well? The type of sexuality honored and practiced in the rituals of the Kaula Tantrikas and the Vama Marg practitioners was a physical and material repudiation of the idea that sexuality is purely for the purpose of producing more children—boys to inherit the land, and
girls to be sold off into virtual slavery as wives of men they had never met. Love is suspect in this equation; it is a wildcard element that has to be contained, controlled, and directed toward an appropriate end. Love is volatile and unpredictable, and its sudden phosphorescent appearance in a stable
and society-conscious family can be perceived as a threat to the community. This is especially true when the emotion of affection is accompanied by sexual attraction.
Sexuality, however, is considered contained once the bond of matrimony is sealed. The matrimonial commitment is made, not only to one's spouse, but (and probably most importantly) to the community at large. It is a statement that each partner has now accepted the rules and regulations of the community
where sexuality is concerned, and that it is expected that viable heirs to whatever property may exist will be safely produced. One defies these expectations at one's peril, as the archetypal example of Romeo and Juliet informs us.
Là-Bas
Tantra, however, calls all of our preconceived notions about sexuality into question. The Tantric circle is, in Western eyes, a Black Mass. There is ritual, there is illegitimate worship, there is secrecy and the unsettling environment of the cemetery, and there is sexuality. Most
important, there is also power and the attainment of that power by those not legitimately entitled to it. The Tantric circle implies the creation of an alternative system of religion and government, an alternative culture, and an alternative sexuality. Tantra, in its purest form, is an act of rebellion.
This was also true of the Black Mass, which is said to be performed by defrocked Catholic priests and to feature a nude virgin as the altar. This Mass represents the ultimate rebellion against the Church, which also means against the state. It is a denial of
everything that both ostensibly stand for. The control and suppression of sexuality as noted above by Foucault results in its expression in violent images and extreme behavior—a condition that is still with us today.
As Georges Bataille (1897–1962) has noted, reproduction is opposed to eroticism.97 Bataille speaks of the idea of continuity and discontinuity—that we, as discontinuous beings, yearn for continuity. He notes that we are born alone and die alone, as individuals, and that this is at the heart of our feeling of discontinuity. Community cannot solve that problem effectively.
Eroticism, on the other hand, does provide the sensation of continuity, of being at one with another person and, by extension, with the cosmos itself. He calls this state of being dissolution—a term revealing for the way it resonates with alchemy and with Tantra and the amrita:
The whole business of eroticism is to strike to the inmost core of the living being, so that the heart stands still. The transition from the normal state to that of erotic desire presupposes a partial dissolution of the person as he exists in the realm of discontinuity. Dissolution—this expression corresponds with dissolute life, the familiar phrase linked with
erotic activity. ... for the male partner the dissolution of the passive partner means one thing only: it is paving the way for a fusion where both are mingled, attaining at length the same degree of dissolution.98
The term “dissolution” is used in alchemy to refer to the second step in the alchemical process of transformation. This step involves dissolving a solid substance in a liquid; one of its symbols is the bath. There are many illustrations of this in alchemical texts; often, they depict a king and
queen together in the bath as if it were a wedding bed or a coffin. The process requires repeated steps of dissolution and coagulation, and is often referred to by the Latin phrase solve et coagula.
In the quotation above, Bataille is referring to a dissolution of consciousness in which both the male and female partners are “mingled” in the sexual act. It could just as well refer to the alchemical process or to the Tantric process. The mingling is an essential step in the creation of the amrita, the elixir vitae. Indeed, Bataille's study of eroticism is subtitled “Death and Sensuality.” The connection between eroticism and death is, in
Bataille's view, a necessary one. As humans, we are made mortal and subject to death as “discontinuous” beings when we are “created” through the process of a sexual act. We seek continuity, and do so through eroticism—an eroticism that does not avoid or negate death, but that provides a sense that
death is not final but part of (or an extension of ) the erotic experience. As we noted in a previous chapter, the connection between death and orgasm—le petit mort—is common to many cultures.
Bataille's work was often banned, thus showing once again the sensitivity of governments to open discussions of sexuality. His short novel, The Story of the Eye, has a Black Mass as its climactic scene, with elements of fellatio, the consumption of urine and semen with the sacrament, and ritual
murder.99 This story echoes that of J. K. Huysmans' famous novel of Satanism, Là-Bas (1891), which also ends with a Black Mass and contains references to the notorious mass murderer, Gilles de Rais.
While the prototype of the Black Mass was, as noted, anti-Church as well as anti-state, by the time Bataille was writing, the notion of the Black Mass had taken on a general anti-establishment, anti-cultural signification. While the desecration of a church and its sacrament may be considered scandalous and even horrifying
today, for many 21st-century Christians, pious and otherwise, the idea of the Black Mass has gradually lost its ability to shock. With the ready availability of pornography and the boundary-
testing programs of commercial television and film in the areas of extreme violence and sexuality, it is reasonable to expect that the Western psyche has become desensitized to what was once considered blasphemous and transgressive. The ongoing, highly publicized scandals involving pedophile priests have also meant that many Catholics—and non-Catholics—no longer feel that the Church is as sacrosanct as before.
Instead, we have another figure, another unholy icon, in the character of the serial killer. Previously known as the “lust killer,” the serial killer represents a fusion between violent murder and sexuality. As I have suggested in an earlier work, the serial killer may be, for the West, a shamanic symbol.100
Serial killers are known not only for murder itself, but for the grisly elements that accompany their kills—dismemberment of the body; torture; sexual acts before, during, or after the murder; the retention of
souvenirs; etc. These are ritualistic kills in the broadest sense of “ritual,” as an act that is repeated in exactly the same way as a kind of compulsion that has meaning for the ritualist. These elements are often present in the development stage of the Siberian shaman, but they occur internally as part of a psychological (and perhaps psycho-biological) process. The popularity of books and movies in the West that romanticize this figure is evidence that the close association of murder and sex has resonance
with the general public. There is a sense that the idea of the serial killer represents something sacred or at least something secret and encoded. It is the Minotaur in the Labyrinth, perhaps. The Shadow in the Machine. Isn't the theme of “death and sensuality” present in the Tantras themselves? Even in
the Kalachakra Tantra, which is the core text of the initiations carried out worldwide by the Dalai Lama? As suggested previously, the time has come for a Foucaldian interpretation of the Tantras with an assist from Bataille and Derrida, perhaps.
This modern fascination with sex and death may be early evidence, therefore, that the Tantric practices of today may have to undergo a kind of transformation. Does the need still exist for rituals that break tabus in their preliminary stages? If so, what tabus are left to break? How will modern Western seekers approach Tantra and tantroid practices in their effort to attain higher
degrees of spiritual awareness and gain siddhis in the process, when they have been inundated with sexually oriented media since birth? Where will the break between normative reality and an alternate reality occur? Where is the liminal boundary between a modern man or woman and the Unknown, the Forbidden, the Other?
It may simply be different for each person. While society at large may have disposed of many of the tabus that once loomed so large that the breaking of them was a dangerous spiritual act, on an individual basis, many tabus still remain. Society has not suddenly attained higher spiritual states because
the tabus have been lifted. On the contrary. It is possible, then, that for modern Westerners to make effective use of this spiritual “technology,” they will have to revisit old neuroses, to chant the forgotten
hymns, to become reacquainted with the world as it was known only a century or so ago. Only then will the illusion that the tabus have been broken become the accepted wisdom. As conservative forms of religion become more dominant in Western society, we may find that what we thought had been discarded now returns with a vengeance. When that happens, Tantra will show a way out, and a way up.
72 Arthur Edward Waite, ed., The Works of Thomas Vaughan, Mystic and Alchemist (New York: University Books, 1968), p. 353.
73 Waite, The Works of Thomas Vaughan, p. 10.
74 For Randolph and his occult activities, see Joscelyn Godwin, Christian Chanel, and John P. Deveney, The Hermetic Brotherhood of Luxor (York Beach, ME: Samuel Weiser, 1995) and T. Allen Greenfield, The Story of the Hermetic Brotherhood of Light (Beverly Hills: Looking Glass Press, 1997), as well as
John Patrick Deveney, Paschal Beverly Randolph: a Nineteenth Century Black American Spiritualist, Rosicrucian, and Sex Magician (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1997). For Aleister Crowley, there have
been many biographies over the years, including his autobiography. See Aleister Crowley, The Confessions of Aleister Crowley, John Symonds and Kenneth Grant, eds.( New York: Penguin, 1989), as well as Martin Booth, A Magick Life (London: Hodder & Stoughton, 2000); John Symonds, The Great
Beast (New York: Rider & Co., 1951); Richard Kaczynski, Perdurabo: The Life of Aleister Crowley (Berkeley: North Atlantic Books, 2010); Lawrence Sutin, Do What Thou Wilt: A Life of Aleister Crowley (New York: St. Martin's Griffin, 2002); Kenneth Grant, Remembering Aleister Crowley (London: Skoob Books, 1991).
79 If he had, it did not do him much good. He is reported to have committed suicide at the age of 50, although some insist that he was murdered. Unfortunately, this is not unusual in the history of Western esotericism. Edward Sellon (1818–1866), who could be credited for having introduced Tantra to the West in the mid-19th century through a series of books that were deemed borderline pornographic, committed suicide nine years earlier at the age of 48. Sellon had lived in
India and his books on Tantra did much to create some of the mystification around the Shakti and Kaula cults and their sexually oriented practices. James Webb, an author of serious investigations into the history of occultism, committed suicide in 1980 at the age of 34. Ioan Couliano, the brilliant historian of religion and protégé of Mircea Eliade, whose words open this book, was murdered at the University of Chicago in 1991 at the age of 41.
80 Randolph, Eulis! the History of Love, p. 7.
81 Hugh B. Urban, Magia Sexualis: Sex, Magic and Liberation in Modern Western Esotericism (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2006), p. 127.
82 Aleister Crowley, The Book of the Law (New York: Magickal Childe Publishing, 1990), I:15, p. 39.
83 See Aleister Crowley, De Arte Magica (Edmonds, WA: Sure Fire Press, 1988).
84 Crowley, De Arte Magica, p. 13–15, Chapter XIV, “Of the Consummation of the Element Divine, whether Quantity be as important as Quality, and whether its waste be Sacrilege.”
85 This understanding is also reflected in the remarks of Moshe Idel (2005) who states, in reference to Kabbalistic views of sexual intercourse, that it is “not an aim in itself or one that is intended to attain personal perfection. The main and final goal or goals are procreation and preparation of appropriate
substrata—human beings—to serve as residences for the Shekinah, quite unlike the Hindu ideal of attaining a moment of sublime consciousness by halting the ejaculation of semen” (p. 220). For competing views, see the works by Tantric scholar David Gordon White listed in the Bibliography.
86 Srischandra Basu (Sris Chandra Vasu), The Esoteric Philosophy of the Tantras Shiva Sanhita (Calcutta: Heeralal Dhole, 1887).
87 James Mallinson, The Shiva Samhita: A Critical Edition (Woodstock, NY: YogaVidya.com, 2007, p. xi.
88 Mallinson, The Shiva Samhita, p. 97.
89 It could be argued that the vajroli mudra offers one method of “consuming” the mingled fluids.
90 Moshe Idel, Kabbalah and Eros (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2005), p. 43.
91 Aleister Crowley, The Cephaloedium Working, (n.d., n.p.).
92 Crowley, The Cephaloedium Working, (n.d., n.p.).
93 H.H. The Dalai Lama, Kalachakra Tantra: Rite of Initiation, Jeffrey Hopkins, ed. (Boston: Wisdom Publications, 1999), p. 85.
94 Dalai Lama, Kalachakra Tantra, p. 61.
95 See L. Couperus, The Hidden Force, Alexander Teixeira de Mattos, trans. (Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press, (1900) 1985). This colorful novel by a Dutch expatriate living in Indonesia during the colonial period emphasizes the Javanese belief in a “hidden force” behind politics,
religion, and life and is a good introduction to some of the themes explored in this book. For those who are skeptical that such a belief does, in fact, exist in Indonesia, you only need to see the plethora of books on the spiritual activities and beliefs of such important Indonesian leaders as Suharto.
96 Michel Foucault, “The Repressive Hypothesis,” in The Foucault Reader, Paul Rabinow, ed. (New York: Pantheon, 1984), p. 317.
97 Georges Bataille, Erotism: Death and Sensuality (San Francisco: City Lights, (1957) 1986), p. 12. Emphasis appears in the original.
98 Bataille, Erotism, p. 17.
99 Georges Bataille, The Story of the Eye (San Francisco: City Lights Books, (1928) 1986).
100 Peter Levenda, Sinister Forces, Vol. 3: The Manson Secret (Walterville, OR: Trine Day, 2006), pp. 52–58.
