I’m generally pretty good at squaring circles – that is to say, seeing how two seemingly incompatible notions might actually fit together better than initially realized. One of those squared circles that I’ve been considering recently is the relationship between the disciplines of Science and Magick, and their seeming opposition to one another.
My most recent contemplation on this issue came during a conversation with one of my oldest, most insightful friends: River (the same friend who has jokingly dubbed me the incarnation of the Tower tarot card)
I have noticed recently that there’s an exceptionally large number of members of Ordo Templi Orientis (the group I have recently joined) who have advanced degrees in psychology and other science fields. I mentioned this to River, and we ended up discussing how it’s really not all that surprising, considering that arguably, all spirituality, including magick, comes back to the human mind.
When something happens that a tarot reading foresaw, or that a prayer was said for, or that a spell was cast for…is it your mind making meaning where there is none? Did you actually tap into some greater thread of the universe? Ultimately we can’t know (and there’s a beauty in that, but I’ll get to that later) which it is, and really, if your life was impacted in a positive way by the structure you give to it and any sort of belief that goes along with it, does it matter?
Years ago I decided that for me, I don’t particularly care.
If you are moved to do good for the world, if you are given insight into your role in the world, if you are helped by something…does it truly matter whether it was because there in fact is some sort of universal force guiding the world, or because of some as-of-yet not understood facet of string theory in physics, or because of simple psychology? In my opinion, no.
I’m a happier, more stable, more involved, arguably generally better person when I’m engaging with my spiritual side on a regular basis – whether that be at a Quaker meeting, a Gnostic mass with ceremonial magicians, or simply spending some time floating in a lake while I meditate. These things all make me more aware of the interconnectedness of the world and everything in it, and they often provide me with the tools that help me get through our complicated, modern world.
One of the catchphrases, if you will, of Aleister Crowley’s writing that resonates with me most strongly is his mention of the relationship between science and magick within the OTO:
Our method is Science, our aim is Religion
– Aleister Crowley
Despite being arguably one of the most prominent figures in the history of the occult world, Crowley often tinges his writing with a surprising amount of skepticism. For those who are strong in faith, he recommends reading criticisms of religion, and for those who are skeptical of the spiritual, he recommends studying the esoteric ways of mysticism. A balanced knowledge of both is required to understand either, and this is something I have long believed. As with most things in the world, the best way to find out if something works is to give it a try and see what happens. This applies to a science experiment just as much as it applies to the spiritual world.
In order to thoroughly examine your experiences, just as a scientist does in an experiment, you need to reject the idea of “belief”. Belief blinds you to the deeper reality that you are trying to find. Like a scientist, you can hypothesize that god(s) may exist. You can hypothesize that demons, or reincarnation, or whatever you like, exists. But you really, really shouldn’t believe in them. Belief is where the irrational gets its first toeholds in your mind, and that’s never good. When someone stands up during a particularly energized Quaker meeting and speaks, I can ponder whether they’re speaking their own words or those of something greater, but I can really do no more than that – and that’s okay. It doesn’t mean that you don’t get something meaningful from it.
If you knock on your desk 3 times and your meetings with your boss go well every time you do, you haven’t proved that the knocking is causing the positive meetings – you first have to disprove that anything else is causing them. And that’s nearly impossible. The most you can do is say “hey, this works for me”. And really, do you need more than that to keep doing what you’re doing? To me, saying “I don’t know if this is what’s causing this, but I’m going to keep testing it” is a more radical form of faith than saying “I know in my heart that this is what’s causing this”.
The aim of spiritual practice, for me, is to reconnect with something that exists outside ourselves, or undiscovered within us. If something allows you to do that, keep doing it.
In short: I don’t care how you get where you’re going, but I do care that you get there and keep asking how you did.