The Middle Pillar

by Israel Regardie

  —SUTRA OF WEI LANG

  FOREWORD

  This book was completed in February 1936, anterior to the writing of The Art of True Healing, whilst I was still resident in London. My point of view since that time has undergone considerable revision, mostly by way of extension. I could easily have altered the text to conform to my present thinking on such matters as the importance of the art of relaxation in relation to the welfare both of body and mind. But I have refrained from doing so since such alteration would interfere with the integrity and continuity of the book as an expression of myself at that time.

  For me The Middle Pillar marks a certain stage of psychological development. I prefer not to tamper with temporal markings and inner milestones. Such a stage may correspond with that of other people who may thus find it of no little value, I hope, to themselves. Possibly in the near future I may dilate at greater length and freedom upon the important implications of relaxation and psychological analysis insofar as they have bearing upon spiritual development and unfoldment.

  —ISRAEL REGARDIE

  (January 31, 1938, New York City)

  Part One

  The Middle Pillar

  Israel Regardie

  A co-relation of the principles of analytical psychology and the elementary techniques of magic.

  CHAPTER ONE

  THE TWO PILLARS OF THE TEMPLE

  To me one of the most significant and extraordinary characteristics of modern thought is the widespread circulation of books on psychology in its various branches. There is a general interest in matters dealing with the mind—especially with that aspect of the hinterland of the mind which has been named the unconscious for want of better words and also because its realm at the moment is so ambiguous to us. There could hardly be an educated individual who has not some slight degree of acquaintance with this analytical psychology. Even if this familiarity ran only to an acquaintance with several of the more commonly employed cliches—such as libido, the unconscious, conflicts and resistances, neuroses and complexes—that in itself would be indicative of a phenomenon which surely has occurred seldom before in the history of civilized thought.

  To meet this widespread interest in matters psychological, a number of books have been written to give the general reader some notion of that peculiar world with which it is the province of the analyst to deal. Quite a number of these are extremely informative, providing a very sane and balanced view of the subject. On the other hand, as is inevitable, there is a large number which might just as well have remained unwritten. One of the most curious misconceptions promulgated by some of these latter is the fact that analytical psychology—and here I use this term in its widest sense to cover the various schools inaugurated by Freud, Jung, Adler, etc.—is a thing quite apart, and that the one thing which stamped our ancestors as barbarians and savages was their utter lack of acquaintance with psychotherapy. It would be totally absurd for anyone to minimize all that has been achieved by modern psychology, due to the efforts of such astute investigators as Freud and Jung. But it is abundantly clear that their protagonists—psychological extremists—go entirely too far in disclaiming the intelligence and insight of our predecessors. For the facts are, as but little research indicates, that so far from being ignorant of analytical psychology, the ancients, and particularly those of the East and hither East, had evolved a highly complex and elaborate scheme not only of analysis, but also of spiritual development and synthesis.

  Some orthodox diehards may question the relationship of modern psychology with discredited oriental and archaic techniques for the unfolding of man’s higher or spiritual nature. In practice, however, such a relationship does indubitably exist. It is a fact of clinical and consulting-room experience. For, during the course of a protracted analysis, the cruder and more superficial unconscious levels having been uncovered and moral conflicts resolved, symbols and theme-motifs of a religious or spiritual nature do make their entry across the threshold of consciousness. This entry is by way of dream, intuition, and by direct apprehension. Not only is this so, but they exert a potent influence on the entire personality, producing integrity, a new and more equilibrated attitude towards life, and an unification of the various strata of consciousness which collectively we call man.

  What modern psychology has quite possibly accomplished is an advance over the efforts of our predecessors in the way of a cathartic technique. Moreover, because of modern devices, the methods of analytical psychology have been brought nearer to the understanding and convenience of the ordinary man of the street. In the past, the techniques of attainment, mysticism, magic, and yoga, or by whatever name such systems were denoted, were always several removes from the ken of the average individual.

  The psychologies of the past may be summarized by the use of the words yoga and magic. The subject of yoga has already been excellently dealt with by several able and competent writers, requiring therefore but little mention here. Such a book as Yoga and Western Psychology by Geraldine Coster must certainly take its place historically as a genuine and first-rate contribution to the progress of analytical psychology. There is also the compilation of the Buddhist Lodge Concentration and Meditation, a handbook on that subject of great merit.1 A number of modem psychologists have also examined the subject of yoga and meditation as a whole, and have found much that is sympathetic to and explanatory of their own systems. And furthermore, the mystical systems posit a goal and a general schema which expand the rather hazy and indeterminate character of a very large part of our psycho-therapeutic systems.

  Analytical psychology and magic comprise in my estimation two halves or aspects of a single technical system. Just as the body and mind are not two separate units, but are simply the dual manifestations of an interior dynamic “something,” so psychology and magic comprise similarly a single system whose goal is the integration of the human personality. Its aim is to unify the different departments and functions of man’s being, to bring into operation those which previously for various reasons were latent. Incidentally, its technique is such that neurotic symptoms which were too insistent upon expression either become eliminated or toned down by a process of equilibration.

  It will be obvious, then, that by magic2 we are not considering a theatrical craft or jugglery—and certainly not that mediaeval superstition which was the child of ignorance begotten by fear and terror. These definitions should be expunged from our thinking. For centuries magic has been quite erroneously associated with such pathologies as witchcraft3 and demonolatry4 due to the duplicity of charlatans and the reticence of its own so-called authorities. Even today, the custodians of this knowledge, harassed by personal problems and more especially by their own power complex are still adamant in their traditional refusal to circulate a more accurate description of the nature of magic. Possibly even they have lost all understanding of its principles. No wonder is it that misconception exists. With the exception of very few works which have attracted the attention of but a fractional part of the reading public, little has been written to act as a definitive exposition of what magic really is. Inasmuch as something of the nature of modern psychology is at least partially understood by a fair section of the educated world, were it said that magic is akin to and concerns itself with that same subjective realm of psychology, some notion of its character and objectives come within hailing distance.

  So far as the average man or aspirant to magic is concerned, unquestionably the analytic technique should comprise the first stage of the routine employed in spiritual development. For until one understands himself according to that peculiarly penetrating light which psychology has thrown upon our motives, he cannot hope to bring effectively into operation the dormant side of his nature. And lest anyone casually dismiss this desirable self-knowledge as a goal easily attained to or, it may be, already obtained, one can only utter a solemn warning that this is not so simple as at first sight seems. That self-knowledge is necessary to the pursuit of magic is self-evident. At once we are faced at t
he portal by guardians armed to the teeth. Such queries confront us as: suppose the interest in spiritual culture were motivated by a desire to escape from the turbulence of physical life? What if one’s stubbornly defended point of view were only an elaborate rationalization to conceal the sense of insecurity, the dull but insistent ache of inferiority? These are quite often the unrecognized factors which compel refuge in the religious avocation—even in various branches of science too. The search for, and quite often assumed discovery of some paternal-like God or a testy senior after the fashion of Jehovah, frequently has its origins in an adolescent rejection of the father. This, deliberately forgotten, has become so deep, that the inner psychic necessity for the authority and affection of the father is unconsciously projected outwards into a terrifying and awe-inspiring deity. Discernment of the true motives of conduct and attitude towards life is, therefore, an absolute essential. This accomplished, then may be examined that other side of the medallion which is man’s own psyche.

  As a practical system, magic is concerned not so much with analysis as with bringing into operation the creative and intuitive parts of man. A psychological technique can never be a wholly integrative one until it accepts this spiritual side of man and assists the analysand in the recognition of or acquaintance with its activity. At this moment, the treatment of these matters remains almost entirely within the domain of magic alone. Fully does it recognize the necessity for integration. Not only does it accept and recommend the results of analysis, but it proceeds still further. If analysis aims at the acceptance of the unconscious, and the validity of its co-existence with consciousness, then magic may be said to be a technique for realizing the deeper levels of the unconscious. These are levels of power and realization whose value we can but dimly grasp through contemplation of religious figures of the past. Buddha, Jesus, Krishna, St. Francis, and a host of others are instances of such illuminated men—of individuals who have striven, all in different ways, to know themselves and attain to a realization of their true divine nature. If so we wish, the techniques they employed we may call devotion, meditation, and contemplation. Fundamentally, however, they are identical in spirit with what we now propose to discuss as magic. In the latter, however, the entire process of attainment has been systematized and developed almost into an exact science, having as its foundation the discovery of godhead. While there may be very few in life who can attain to the full realization of their divine origin and nature, yet for all of us there is some value to magic, some degree of fulfillment or attainment available. There is none so small as cannot employ it to some good and noble end. None so great as cannot better himself morally and otherwise, thus rendering himself more efficient to cope with and understand life and the world both about and within him. These are objectives which, notwithstanding the magnitudes of their vision, are within the reach of every man.

  It is not yet the moment to enter into a disquisition on the intricacies of magical ritual. But in order to expound fundamental psychological and spiritual principles it is necessary to refer to what are known technically as the two pillars.5 Half-way between the east and west, and north and south, in a properly instituted temple are placed two upright pillars.6 One of these is colored white, the other black. These pieces of lodge furniture are emblematical of the two opposites functioning in the diverse operations of nature. Just as the temple represents in miniature the whole of life by which we may ever be confronted, or, rather, the manifold parts of our own inner nature, so these two pillars symbolize some aspect of these phenomena. They represent light and darkness, heat and cold. In man, they stand for love and hate, joy and pain, mind and emotion, life and death, sleeping and waking. Every pair of opposites conceivable to the human mind find their representation in the implication of these two pillars.

  Now one of the most important ideas communicated to the student of magic, in his ceremonial initiation when he is led from one station to another, is that an extreme leaning either to one or the other of the opposites is a very dangerous thing. It is unwise to swing to opposite poles of life’s pendulum. “Unbalanced power is the ebbing away of life. Unbalanced mercy is but weakness and the fading out of the will. Unbalanced severity is cruelty and the barrenness of mind.”7

  Were we to change the terminology of the speech, instead of the word “mercy” we might substitute “emotion,” or “generosity,” or “love”; for “severity” we may substitute “power,” “the rational side of us,” or “justice,” or “tyranny.” Either of these qualities when carried to an extreme, unmodified by the other, is conducive to an unhealthy state of psyche. Thus it is, that in so religiously authoritative a book as the Bhagavad-Gita,8 which some consider one of the finest pieces of devotional and philosophical literature yet penned, we find it stated “Be free from the pairs of opposites.”

  The whole of life—it is in fact the law of nature itself—seems to be dominated by these extremes or opposites. “Two contending forces and one which unites them eternally. Two basal angles of the triangle and one which forms the apex. Such is the origin of creation; it is the Triad of Life.”9 Only a little reflection will convince the reader of the truth of this theorem. Until we have acquired wisdom and understanding, we swing during the seventy year span of our lives between self-esteem and self-disgust, from an exaggerated estimation of our fellows to their utter and final condemnation. Age, it is true, does bring moderation and temperance with it. But were this more balanced attitude towards life cultivated, taught or adopted earlier or before middle age set in, how much more efficient could we not be, and what could we not achieve? The technique under consideration consists primarily in the conscious reconciliation of opposing forces. It is this which has been called the development of the Golden Flower.10

  Before proceeding further, it is a very interesting piece of speculation to consider the trinities of various religions. Most of them resolve themselves when all theological argument and intellectual quibbling are eliminated, into some such relationship as Father, Mother, and Son. Osiris, Isis, and Horus are an excellent example. This is true also of the Christian system where, upon careful consideration we find the Holy Ghost defined as a feminine aspect of godhead.11 And in the Hebrew Qabalah we have the Trinity on the Tree of Life of Chesed (“Mercy”), Gevurah12 (“Might”) and Tiphareth (“Equilibrium” or “Beauty”). Co-relating this latter triad with traditional symbolism, Chesed is masculine, referred to Jupiter, a paternal wisdom symbol. Gevurah, feminine, is attributed to Mars, indicative of great power. One alchemical aphorism expresses this duality in the words “Man is peace and woman is power.” Bearing all these in mind, we conclude that as Chesed represents the Father and Gevurah the Mother,13 so Tiphareth which is Beauty, is the reconciler between them. Interestingly enough, Tiphareth is referred to the Sun, and corresponds to the third member of the theological trinity, the Son.

  Looking at these trinities as so many expressions of psychological fact—that is, as previously defined, as factors active within the psyche itself—we are struck by the similarity of the religious point of view with the idea of the Middle Way.14 It is the pursuit of this middle path which leads to self-conquest and the steady growth of the Golden Flower, the wakening of the imprisoned soul within.

  The Father and Mother may be said to correspond to the two pillars of the temple, to the two extremes or opposites. In this sense they are the tendencies exhibited by all the phenomena of nature. They are the extremes of spirit and matter, love and hate, life and death, ebb and flow, systole and diastole. Nature itself is the embodiment of the two extremes, the two opposites of the Trinity.

  Man, unenlightened man, one in whom neither wisdom nor understanding has been brought to birth, likewise fashions his life in the way of these two extremes. Or rather, these extremes fashion his life for him. For he is, as though by compulsion, driven by some external force he knows not of, between the poles of extreme love and hate, swinging from kindness and maudlin generosity to bursts of uncontrolled anger, hate and meanness
. His actions, almost without a single exception, are so many semi-hysterical flights from pole to pole of his emotions. He is, as it were, under the dominion of the Father and the Mother.

  To the student of the psyche, to the one who seeks wisdom and the knowledge of his higher self, the counsel has always been given to avoid the opposites. His task is to refrain from the compulsion of extreme actions.

  In certain schools of magic, where the rites of initiation were celebrated by adepts who at one time thoroughly understood the technique they employed, initiation ceremonies depicted the burial of the higher self and its rebirth by means of a technical system of magic and meditation. Therein, the higher self was always represented by some sacred figure of the major religions—a man who was nearly always shown as the Son of God. The essence of the ethical injunctions of these systems was to develop the Son within. “Unless Christ be born in you....” “Look within; thou are Buddha.” I do not believe these images could possibly have reference to any historical individual we know of. But rather I surmise these refer to the gradual bringing into conscious operation of a spiritual point of view, of an equilibrated attitude towards life, an attitude not exclusively directed to any extreme. Recognizing the polarity of life, such a point of view sought to steer a middle way between the tortuous and extreme activity of nature. It is the way of the Reconciler, of keeping to the path between the two pillars, that balanced and harmonious position in which the candidates of the ancient initiation systems found themselves at the major crisis and climax of their initiation. This is the technique of bringing to birth the golden Sun of Tiphareth, the Sun of beauty and harmony who is the third person of the Trinity. Thus it is that one system nowadays15 conceives of the Great Work as partaking of the recognition of the Crowned and Conquering Child Horus—he who, while partaking necessarily of the nature of both the Father and the Mother, is simultaneously an entirely different and unique being. Through the result of the union of opposing forces, his nature tends to a new viewpoint in the conquest of life. For the Father and Mother are “those forces whose reconciliation is the key of life.”16