Unleash Your Gnostic Fury

I recently came across an online image/meme that said, “God gave me depression because if my ambitions went unchecked I would have bested him in hand to hand combat by age 16.” I don’t know the original source of this image or who created it. When I saw it, in addition to thinking, “Wow, this is so Gnostic,” I also immediately resonated with it because this topic is one that I have had on my mind lately: depression resulting from suppressed or denied anger.

To begin, a bit of background: God, from a Gnostic perspective, is not one of the good guys. The Gnostics—originally 2nd and 3rd century Christian heretics though likely coming out of a stream that existed in pre-Christian traditions as well[1]—saw this world as a “prison planet” of sorts. They viewed it as a “false” world in which the spark of divinity lay deep within us as human beings but was actively suppressed by ruling “archons” who sought to maintain power for the Demiurge, or creator god who mistakenly thought he was the God despite actually simply being one of many[2]. Gnostic spirituality is centered around gnosis—direct experience of the primordial, the pleroma, as they called it. Gary Lachman describes this as “immediate, direct, non-discursive cognition of reality.”[3] Gnosis is the key to thwarting the powers of the archons and the Demiurge who keep us imprisoned. Whether we wish to take this as an origin story or a symbolic myth, it holds a lot of power as a contemplation or worldview, particularly as one considers how to “wake up” from the slumber of cultural programming and familial conditioning to a more conscious way of being.

On some level, one would expect that waking up would be a process of becoming more and more at peace and at home in the world. However, opening one’s eyes to the reality of the atrocities that exist within this world as well as to our deep wounds and the repressed shadow aspects of ourselves can be incredibly painful. It is hard to do this, fully and wholeheartedly, without becoming depressed or infuriated or both.

Over the past several years, as I have become increasingly aware of the horrors this world of ours beholds—endless war, unfathomable inequality, very deliberately orchestrated oppression—I have at times felt profoundly heavy. Defeated. A sense of impossibility. As the times grow increasingly dystopic, it can be easy to slide into a sense of hopelessness, to feel the archons have already won. But I think this is what they want us to feel. They wish for our fury to remain inaccessible because it is our fury which is the true threat.

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I have never felt comfortable with my own anger. It is fiery, it feels claustrophobic, it makes me want to crawl out of my own skin. As a child it was discouraged in me—I learned from my parents and teachers that one should be nice and good and keep their anger under control. With this foundation already in place, my suppression was fortified further as I began my spiritual path in my late teens and took on the idea that being a “spiritual” person meant being peaceful, calm, at ease. Through some combination of the teachings I was exploring (primarily Buddhist) and my own interpretations of them, I developed an idea of what it looks like to be an “awake” person in the world. Anger was not part of the picture.

However, as I entered into the practice and study of Vajrayana Buddhism, one of the most valuable teachings I encountered was that of the five wisdom energies or five “Buddha Families.” The notion is that there are five core energies within ourselves and within the phenomenal world, and that these energies are neutral in and of themselves. They can manifest in a neurotic, ego-centered way, or a conscious, open, awake way—like two sides of the same coin. The neurotic manifestation of vajra energy—one of the five wisdom energies—is anger, based in self-centeredness. The awakened manifestation is clear seeing, a diamond-like quality of mind. Irini Rockwell, who has written several books on the five Buddha Families, writes, “Vajra energy reflects its surrounding like a calm, clear pool of water, without distortion or bias. Thus Vajra wisdom is mirrorlike: it sees things as they are.”[4] There is tremendous wisdom and intelligence in this clarity, and the intensity of the energy can be a powerful motivating force to drive us forward.

If we are unable to stay present with that intensity, we tend to find ways to bury it, to suppress it. So part of my experience over the past few years has been noticing how I will often feel anger about our world, but then suppress it because I don’t know what to do with it. The result is a sense of hopelessness, heaviness, despair.

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Visual representation of the five Buddha Families of Tibetan Buddhism

I will pause here for a necessary clarification of terms and perspective. I have never been diagnosed with clinical depression. I believe depression has a lot more social causes than we typically acknowledge today. Frankly, I don’t quite understand how someone could be alive today and not experience a frequent sense of depression. However, I am aware that there are biological causes for depression in many people, and that many people benefit from taking medication for it. I am not a psychologist and I am not claiming anything universal here, just trying to speak from my own experience. Furthermore, as you might anticipate where we’re heading here, I do not advocate violence nor do I believe that any form of violent expression of anger leads anyone to genuine liberation.

There is another important caveat here, which is to be clear about what to be angry about. There are a lot of angry white males out there today, desperately clinging to their dying worldview and evaporating privilege. As a white male, I would implore these people to deeply examine the social and psychological causes of suffering and to recognize that while class oppression is something to be genuinely angry about, the erosion of white privilege is not. When you’ve been privileged your whole life—by being male, white, heterosexual, cisgender, neurotypical, able-bodied, in a financially stable situation, or any combination of these—equality can feel like oppression. But we need to learn and understand history better than this (not just the history we’re spoon-fed in school) understand socio-political power better than this (not just the picture portrayed by mainstream media), and work tirelessly for collective liberation—which is centered around supporting the empowerment of marginalized and oppressed peoples. This also means recognizing that identifying as a Democrat or “liberal” in 2018 not only doesn’t go far enough, but also usually means you are part of the problem.

So this is where our fury must be directed: at all the forces that create genuine oppression in this world. We must examine these systems, understand them, and then work to dismantle them. They do affect all of us, albeit in different ways. Many of us who grew up in middle or upper-class suburban homes were effectively programmed to see the world in a certain way that encouraged us to be cogs in the machinery that perpetuates the system. In that sense we are both complicit as oppressors and also victims, because who wants to live their life as an automaton?

In order to awaken our fury at the gnostic situation we somehow find ourselves in, in an effective way, we have to tap into the power of vajra energy—that icy cold, focused, sharp clear-seeing that can pierce through both the inner veil and the outer walls of society. It may mean allowing ourselves to feel the uncomfortableness of anger in order to lift ourselves out of hopelessness and despair. Then we can access the power and drive to begin to fight back against the archons and the Demiurge himself, in whatever unique, transgressive way our particular daimon calls upon us to.

Let us allow ourselves to feel what is a very appropriate response to the situation we have awoken to find ourselves in. The very mission of the archons of this world is to believe this situation is so impossible that we sink into our depression and give up hope. Sadness is okay to feel. In fact, sadness is very good to feel. Our hearts are tender because we know things could be otherwise, and sadness keeps us in touch with our longing for a better world. But instead of allowing that sadness to veer into despair, let us instead, with crystalline precision, unleash our gnostic fury and make it our life’s mission to dismantle the prison that keeps us enslaved. The Demiurge and his minions can be bested.

[1] Lachman, Gary (2015). Secret Teachers of the Western World. p. 105,

[2] Ibid, p. 109

[3] Ibid, p. 30

[4] Rockwell, Irini (2002). The Five Wisdom Energies. p. 33

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The Imaginal World

In this complex and bizarre world, getting in touch with a trustworthy inner compass is both increasingly challenging and essential. One way that we can access that compass, our personal daimon—our inner creative urge, or guiding spirit that drives us toward purpose and who we really are (introduced in more depth here)—is through the imaginal world. This article will provide an introductory overview of the concept, which has relevance and applicability in not only connecting with our daimon, but for many other esoteric and even secular pursuits as well.

While imagination is commonly regarded in today’s rational materialist world as mere “child’s play,” for practitioners in many different esoteric traditions the imagination is a faculty that can be used to explore actual existing realms. Scholar of esotericism Henri Corbin called this the “mundus imaginalis,” or the “imaginal world.”[1] Corbin, whose work elucidates the visionary experiences of Suhrawardi, the twelfth century Iranian esotericist, stresses as he describes this visionary realm that this is “no utopia, but a real country and a real space…which has neither location nor climate in the world perceived by the outer senses.”[2]

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From The Secret Tradition of the Soul by Patrick Harpur

In discussing a recurrent theme in the work of Mullah Sadra Shirazi, Corbin highlights another key point: “that the Imagination is a spiritual faculty which does not perish along with the physical organism, because it is independent of it.”[3] This sheds particular light for us on the importance of the imaginal world for the Gnostics, whose ontological perspective regarded this material world as a “false” world; if this faculty exists independently of the physical world of matter, it would follow that it would be a key to transcending the world of matter. However, this exploration of the Gnostic perspective is one that I will leave for another time (in the meantime, the podcast Aeon Byte Gnostic Radio is a great resource on Gnosticism).

William Blake was another explorer of the imaginal world and advocate for the necessity of doing so in order to awaken. Kathleen Raine, a poet and scholar of Blake, helps elucidate why, for Blake, Corbin, and many others, a “world” which is invisible to the naked eye can nevertheless be more “real” than our ordinary world of matter: “We must remember at all times that a ‘world’ for Blake is situated not in Cartesian space but in consciousness; therefore every change of consciousness changes the world.”[4] She deals a further blow to the viewpoint that only the world of matter and the senses is worth experiencing when she writes, “By banishing the phenomena from the Imagination— the ‘faculty which experiences’ — they are emptied of all significance, retaining only a quantitative existence.”[5]

These two statements denote the way in which the Imagination opens the door to an entire world that is ontologically significant. First, we see how a “world” can be considered to exist outside of the realm of physical space: worlds exist within consciousness. Raine then drives home the significance of this statement by pointing out that every change of consciousness changes a world we experience. This highlights the importance of cultivating clarity of consciousness and developing the inner faculties to be able to experience the imaginal world—but also reminds us that we are not simply passive players within our “everyday” lives, but rather that we create that world and how we experience it depends on the state of our consciousness. This makes sense, given how vastly varied different people’s experiences of “the world” are.

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Raine then goes on to say that the Imagination is the “faculty which experiences,” and that our Cartesian materialist/dualist worldview has actually rejected Imagination altogether. What this means is that we are actually stripped of our ability to experience. Raine and Blake would question whether a materialist who believes only in this visible world actually sees or experiences anything at all. These two ideas together reveal the hollowness of the materialist experience worldview, painting an image of a flat, two-dimensional skeletal world, contrasted with the vivid, colorful, 3D realm of the Imagination.

C.G. Jung and many depth psychologists teach a method of engaging with inner figures called “active imagination” which enables the practitioner to travel inward and explore the realm of the Imagination. Active imagination can be explored by choosing a figure such as a dream figure, or an inner voice or aspect of ourselves, and dialoguing with it through imagery and writing. We can specifically choose to enter into a dialogue with our personal daimon or other imaginal allies; Jungian analyst Jeffrey Raff offers great practical exercises on this in his book Ally Work. Likewise, the practice of shamanic journeying, as well as certain visualization practices across a variety of esoteric traditions, can be way of using the faculty of the Imagination to enter into realms unseen.

These methods offer the possibility of accessing worlds beyond the one made of matter that is most immediately accessible through the human sense faculties. Though not limited to personal daimon work, many of these techniques can be valuable for accessing our inner guides. The possibility of being able to access a world beyond the one we know through our senses also has significant societal implications. Particularly at a time when our world is in dire need of some serious re-imagining, being able to not only think outside the box but also literally conjure up something new using the power of our imaginal faculties may be our only hope in turning the proverbial ship around. Perhaps we can think of that as a bit of a “to be continued…”
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[1] Corbin, H. (1998). The Voyage and the Messenger. (Berkeley, CA: North Atlantic Books). p. 125.

[2] Ibid.

[3] Ibid. p. 132.

[4] Raine, K. (1991). Golgonooza: City of Imagination. (Hudson, NY: Lindisfarne 1991). p. 18.

[5] Ibid. p. 19

The Pull of the Daimon

Do you ever feel driven by a force that you sense is outside of your conscious will? Perhaps this energy is directed in a productive way toward a creative passion or vocation, or perhaps has darker or destructive manifestations that veer into the realm of obsession or addiction? You may be in the grip of a powerful personal force that is trying to communicate with you. In fact, many traditions around the globe would say that we all are, whether we know it or not.

The personal daimon is said to be an inner guide or guardian spirit that protects, challenges, and drives an individual forward throughout life, according to a variety of cultures throughout the world.[1] One of the primary roles of the personal daimon is to help direct its human partner toward purpose, or even destiny.

James Hillman, a Jungian analyst who developed his own approach to understanding the human journey, which he called archetypal psychology, wrote a book devoted entirely to the topic of the daimon and heeding its call, The Soul’s Code: In Search of Character and Calling. Hillman credits Plato’s “Myth of Er” as his own source of understanding this notion of the daimon, though he acknowledges that the idea is ancient and is present in many different cultures around the world.[2] He includes some other terms for the same idea that shed light on the way the notion of the daimon may be more popularly present in segments of Western culture, while not quite acknowledged as such: the term genius, as used by the Romans, as well as the Christian notion of a guardian angel.[3] Hillman’s description of the daimon is as follows: “The soul and each of us is given a unique daimon before we are born, and it has selected an image or pattern that we live on earth. This soul-companion, the daimon, guides us here.”[4]

Writer and psychotherapist Thomas Moore describes the daimon as an “inner personality” that guides a person throughout life.[5] He notes that a distinguishing quality of the daimon is that it is often experienced as other. A person may experience this inner guidance as an actual separate entity that seems to live within, or close by.

img_1090Here’s where it gets even more interesting: the direction in which the daimon urges one to move may not in fact be the direction in which the conscious ego or “personality” wants to go.[6] In that sense, the daimon challenges its partner and is and potentially problematic. It can create inner conflict and there can be a sense of wrestling or struggling with this pull. At times it can feel much easier to ignore this force than to attempt to follow it, as following it may go against one’s beliefs about who they are. Life may be simpler if the daimon is not acknowledged. At the same time, the rewards can be exquisite: it is the daimon that helps us become the person we were born to be.

The idea of a daimon as external entity may present a challenge to Western minds, as the scientific materialist paradigm that permeates Western culture today does not typically include unseen entities, spirits, or angels. For the purposes of this short piece, I would like to propose that whether the daimon is considered an actual external entity or an aspect of a person’s mind, heart, or psyche does not matter. The separate entity versus part of oneself debate is a rich one that certain warrants its own exploration. My view is that these two seemingly opposite perspectives may be one and the same. When this question is examined in depth, it is actually quite difficult to tease out the difference between an “entity” that is “outside” oneself and an inner figure or aspect of one’s own mind.  The daimon need not be understood as an “entity” in order to be worked with. It can be seen as an inner urge or creative force.

The daimon communicates with its partner in a variety of ways including psychological and physical “symptoms.”[7] Therefore, paying close attention to various symptoms we experience and trying to sense what these symptoms may be attempting to express is essential to understanding the daimon’s pull. If one wishes to go even further and intentionally cultivate a relationship with the daimon, one way to do so is through accessing it by way of the imaginal realm. As this is an immensely rich and provocative topic in and of itself, I will explore the subject of the imaginal realm and how one can begin to cultivate a relationship with the daimon in a future post. For now, if the idea holds intrigue for you, I invite you to contemplate how your daimon may be attempting to make itself known in your own life. What a thrilling and terrifying possibility!

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[1] Harpur, Patrick (2011). The Secret Tradition of the Soul. Berkeley, CA: Evolver Editions. pp. 94-97.

[2] Hillman, James (1996). The Soul’s Code: In Search of Character and Calling. New York: Random House. pp. 7-10.

[3] Ibid, p. 8.

[4] Ibid.

[5] Moore, Thomas (1993). “On Creativity.” Sounds True.

[6] Ibid.

[7] Hillman, James (1996). The Soul’s Code: In Search of Character and Calling. New York: Random House. p. 10.