Entities

Two texts concerning encounters with non-terrestrial entities: the first, Anthony Peake’s The Hidden Universe: an Investigation into Non-Human Intelligences (2019); the second, the film series Hellier (Pfeiffer 2019). Both were created at around the same time, probably unknown to each other, but each confronts a similar mystery of non-human entities which, as Peake puts it:

all have one thing in common: they originally existed in the heavens, came down to earth, were defeated or banished by a controlling power, and ended up underground to occasionally enter this world through portals such as caves and sink-holes (Peake 2019: 44)

Both texts are initiated by personal encounters: in Peake’s case, his mother’s experience of something strange in the sky, followed by a bedroom encounter with an alien grey, even though such things were outside his mother’s cultural frame of reference; in the case of Hellier, unsolicited emails describing incursions of goblin-like greys upon a household in Kentucky.

Figurines of white humanoid figures
The White People. Figurines about 1m tall. Discovered at Ayn Ghazal and dated to 6500BCE.

In each instance, the ensuing narrative leads the protagonists and the reader or viewer into “high strangeness”: happenings so bizarre they transcend the usual categories of weirdness, so that phenomena such as ghosts, extraterrestrials, and psi are jumbled together in an inseparable melee of oddness.

What distinguishes these texts, however, is the trajectory the respective investigations take. Peake begins with shamanism, myth and magick, formulating an argument that reaches its conclusions in what is supposedly science. The Hellier team begin with a supposedly scientific, investigative approach, but are drawn ineluctably towards a conclusion in occultism. Along the way, both are confronted with questions about the nature of reality.

The Hellier team commence in that dire confusion typical of paranormal investigation teams. The first season is almost unbearable to watch, because of the faulty reasoning, their inability to distinguish between knowledge and experience. On their first visit to the town of Hellier they find it odd that so many people approach them with stories of strange happenings. When they return, months later, hardly anyone comes forward, yet this is taken as odd too. Is it really so improbable to have different experiences in the same place at different times?

To communicate with non-human entities the team employs “The Estes Method”, which involves relaying output from a ghostbox through powerful noise-cancelling headphones to a blindfolded human operator who then speaks out loud the messages he or she receives. Questions are addressed to the entity by the other participants and whatever is spoken by the human operator is taken as the response. Whereas typical ghostbox communications are vulnerable to different participants hearing different messages, the Estes Method limits the number of interpretations to one and creates a sense of dialoguing with an entity in real time.

ancient cave painting of human figures
Detail from the Junction Shelter “Bridge Scene”. Note the domed skull and pointed chin of the central figure. Upper Paleolithic.

This is taken a step further in a subsequent episode where the same set-up is employed with another member of the team donning a “god helmet” and engaging with the ghostbox operator in dialogue. A god helmet is an apparatus that stimulates the temporal lobes of the wearer with low intensity magnetic fields. In this sequence the helmeted team member, possibly in an altered state, reports multisensory communications from an extraterrestrial entity, which seem to correspond with the verbal utterances being relayed from the ghostbox operator.

But even as the paraphernalia of modern ghostbusting proliferates, the Hellier crew are converging on what amounts to an ancient method of spirit communication: spirit possession. They could have dispensed with all the technology and gained the same experience simply by calling out to the supposed entities, entering a trance state, and allowing whatever happens to happen. Indeed, the climactic scenes of Hellier amount to this: the team decide the phenomenon relates to the god Pan, so they perform a ritual in the caves to open a portal for Pan to re-enter the world. Their transformation from paranormal investigators into magicians seems complete.

The narrative strands of Hellier are manifold, and I will not enter into them here, but at the very end of the second series, after the somewhat anticlimactic results of the Pan ritual, further pointers seem offered by the phenomenon, two of them being: (1) a passage from The Book of the Law obtained by gematria: “the man and the name of thy house 418 the end of the hiding” (Crowley 1976: 38 [II: 78-9]); and (2) Crowley’s Star Sapphire ritual (1992: 36), obtained by gematria and through some striking synchronicities.

418 is the gematric value of Abrahadabra, which for Crowley means “The Great Work accomplished” (Crowley 2020: point iii). The number therefore symbolises enlightenment, awakening – although I suspect the Hellier crew might be thinking it is the street number of the house where Indrid Cold lives. (Long story…) The Star Sapphire ritual, meanwhile, is a sex-magickal invocation of the non-dual consciousness that forms the basis of spiritual awakening.

The Hellier team discuss the idea of performing the ritual, but no comment is made on its sexual aspect. Famously, in the sixteenth century John Dee and Edward Kelley made contact with angels and were instructed by them to arrange sexual intercourse on the same night with each other’s wives. The Hellier team are perhaps confronting discarnate beings with a similar intention of pointing them towards ritual sex as a means of gnosis. Jason Louv (regarding the case of Dee and Kelley) offers a rationale for this:

We know that sex and particularly possessiveness issues around sex are really tightly wound into the human ego and issues of territory and dominance […] The point of all of that is reproduction […] You need functional ego boundaries to take and defend territory in which children can be raised […] When you deal with sexual deconditioning you’re really hitting at the root of the personality […] It makes sense from the angelic perspective: they are trying to crack the centre of the human personality, but what often happens with these things is that what spiritual beings think human beings can handle they often can’t. (Kaminsky 2018: 51’10”)

Engaging in non-habitual sexual activity, then, can be used as a method for challenging ego boundaries and thereby entering non-dual awareness. If there is a third season of Hellier I doubt that these considerations will be pursued, and I am not recommending that they should (for the same reasons that Louv touches upon) but I imagine the trajectory into ritual and magick will continue, as it becomes clearer that (because it is discarnate and therefore without a material basis) the phenomenon cannot be subjected to scientific investigation – not that the Hellier team were ever really doing that anyway.

Peake, however, does not regard the immateriality of the entities as an obstacle to contemporary science. He traces encounters with non-human entities, or “egregorials”, through shamanism, religious myth, legends of faeries and djinn, the magick of Dee and Crowley, psychical experiments, ufology, and entheogens. By this point he has collected a bunch of odd but recurring motifs: beings originally from the heavens that for reasons unknown have retreated to dark, subterranean caves; that appear in forms often similar to or associated with reptiles or snakes; and with whom entheogens or trance states seem to offer a means of communication. Their motivation and ontological status remain uncertain, but they reappear so often and in so many contexts that it is too simple to dismiss them as fiction. Yet if they do not have material existence, then where are they? Referring to quantum mechanics and theories suggesting that material reality is some kind of simulation, Peake concludes:

If the physical world is, in fact, created purely from non-physical digital information then the existence of non-human intelligences existing outside the program is not so far-fetched. Our Egregorials are simply sentient programs in the same way that we are sentient programs. They just exist on a different level. (Peake 2019: 206)

Peake’s trajectory sends him on a reformulation of reality to accommodate discarnate entities. However, does the idea of the physical world as a simulation make sense? If an aspect of reality leads us to conclude reality is not real, what we were expecting to find? Peake seems perturbed by the suggestion “that physical reality is not actually solid in any real sense” (Peake 2019: 191). For him, apparently, if reality has characteristics somewhat like a computer program or a hologram then it becomes suspect. What seems more likely, however, is that his assumptions are unrealistic. A notion of reality as not real is an idea inherently confused and false.

On the one hand we have Peake, trying to find the entities by using science to reformulate reality; and on the other the Hellier crew, attempting communication by using magick to alter their perceptions. What both might be missing is an invitation implicit in the encounter to radically alter their conception of self. In Peake’s case, if reality indeed lacks substance and is like a hologram, then what would be the nature of human existence within that reality? In the case of the Hellier team, if it is not material creatures that their investigations yield, but meaningful synchronicities, are they noticing what effect this is having upon themselves?

Cave painting of human figure with large head and eyes
Pech Merle, “The Wounded Man”, a human figure with oddly domed head and large eyes. Upper Paleolithic.

The nature and motivation of the entities is implicit in these questions. They are not material creatures but symbols. They come down from the heavens and live in the underworld because that is where we must go to find them. They communicate through dreams, drugs, rituals, and trance because changing our consciousness is what they do. Describing them as “symbols” takes away none of their reality. To approach a symbol is to fall under its meaning and be affected by it.

The association of the entities with reptiles or serpents is related by Peake to an ayahuasca vision of Michael Harner: “The dragon-like entities informed him that they were inside all forms of life, including humans, who are but the receptacles and servants of these creatures” (Peake 2019: 166). This is perhaps taking a living symbol too literally, although it is understandable, given that it was apparently Harner’s first ever ayahuasca ritual, and at the time he was an anthropologist studying the perplexingly alien culture of the Conibo people in Peru.

Compare the conclusions Harner draws from his visionary encounter with reptilian entities to that of Carl Jung in The Red Book:

The serpent is the earthly essence of man of which he is not conscious. […I]t is the mystery that flows to him from the nourishing earth-mother. […] The serpent has the weight of the earth in itself, but also its changeability and germination from which everything that becomes emerges. It is always the serpent that causes man to become enslaved now to one, now to the other principle, so that it becomes error. […] The way of life writhes like the serpent from right to left and from left to right […] Thus the serpent is an adversary and a symbol of enmity, but also a wise bridge that connects right and left through longing, much needed by our life. (Jung 2009: 180-1)

My suggestion here is that we are not the slaves of the serpent (as Harner supposed), but only potentially so. We become slaves to these entities if we follow them into the earth, taking them literally. Earth is materiality, but it is also the site of germination, potential and growth. The myths inform us that these reptilian entities originally came from the stars, but they have a trickster aspect and can ruin us by leading us into confusion. Whereas Peake aims for the stars and tries to trace them back to their original home, the Hellier crew are led into the caves. However, as Jung suggests, we avoid confusion by recognising them as the living symbols that they are, enacting transformation upon us. Where they lead to wisdom it is because we have recognised that how they appear illuminates the nature of the reality that enables this.

References

Crowley, Aleister (1976). The Book of the Law. York Beach, ME: Weiser.

Crowley, Aleister (1992). The Book of Lies. https://tinyurl.com/y4a7b4qa (sacred-texts.com). Accessed September 2020.

Crowley, Aleister (2020). Liber Samekh. https://tinyurl.com/y5e6lj7w (sacred-texts.com). Accessed September 2020.

Jung, Carl Gustav (2009). The Red Book Liber Novus: A Reader’s Edition. New York: W.W. Norton.

Kaminsky, Greg (2018). Occult of personality: episode 191 – Jason Louv and John Dee’s empire of angels. https://tinyurl.com/y6qcamo4 (occultofpersonality.net). Accessed September 2020.

Peake, Anthony (2019). The Hidden Universe: An Investigation into Non-Human Intelligences. London: Watkins.

Pfeiffer, Karl, director (2019). Hellier. Planet Weird.

 

Missing

I miss Christopher Kenworthy.

Christopher Kenworthy, The Quality of Light. The most overtly magickal of his novels.

He wrote two extraordinarily atmospheric novels (2000, 2001) and a collection of intense short stories (1997). I miss the strange lucidity and skewed observations in his writing, which trap and bind the reader in the weight of bodily experience, yet somehow at the same time offer something ethereal and transcendent.

There was a passage about how catching a cold changed the perceptions of the narrator, which made a sniffle seem like tripping on LSD. In another passage the narrator leans from the window of a tower block and hears the rain; just the non-sound of water falling through air on its way to the ground. I have not looked up these passages. What the text actually says is not my point.

I read Kenworthy at the same time I had started to wonder about magick. I could not let go of experiences as a teenager, messing with the Ouija board. It felt fake to go about pretending things like that did not happen. I wondered if magick were a way to cause those things, rather than just waiting and hoping for the miraculous. Kenworthy seemed to hint there was a means to see the world as he presented it. I suspected this method was occultism. It felt to me as if he wrote from the perspective of someone who had been to the woods and conducted questionable experiments, had performed ill-judged rituals with unpleasant consequences; that all his stories were attempts at coming to terms with this.

But I do not know this. I know next to nothing about him. I waited for new novels from him that never came. Following his career online, he was moving into directing films. Cinema’s gain was literature’s loss, as far as I was concerned.

During the early 90s I was haunting the small press scene. I printed out stories on A4 sheets and posted them to editors. A free copy of a magazine was usually the only enticement. My stories returned rapidly in the self-addressed envelopes I had supplied. Kenworthy had just about outgrown this scene, but there was a goth magazine named Occular that had a story of mine in the same issue as one by him. This was my highlight. I slogged on for a few more years. I gave up because the effort was incommensurate with the returns. That, and a lack of talent.

Kenworthy had emigrated to Australia and made a successful career directing music videos. He wrote bestselling manuals on filmmaking. And then I remember an announcement that he was giving up making films. No reason was given, but my fantasy plugged the gap: spousal pressure to take up steadier work; a damaged occultist saved and constrained by his commitments. But I had no evidence whatsoever.

He made a feature film (2009) that I struggled for years to find. Strangely, today, at last, I found a copy for purchase. It has been downloading whilst I have written this. So perhaps Kenworthy was never actually missing at all; the obscurity was my creation. Missing something reveals little about what is supposedly absent, but much more perhaps of he in whom the feelings arise.

I have missed writing in public on things I am passionate about. I am thinking about Kenworthy now, perhaps, because I have been absent from myself.

On the Weird Studies podcast I was surprised to hear mention of “two English occultists, Duncan Barford and Alan Chapman, who in the 2000s had a really great blog called The Baptist’s Head and then […] they basically disappeared off the face of the earth” (Ford & Martel 2018).

It is nice to be missed, but we had not disappeared. Alan was building a reputation as a spiritual teacher and developing the teachings that would become Magia. And I was still writing, although anonymously at times, whilst training and building a career in counselling. Anyone who looked would have found us, but what were they looking for? I had been looking for a writer and occultist in someone who was apparently no longer either; no wonder Kenworthy had seemed hard to find. But I had withdrawn also from public view in those fields. Maybe I was missing through someone else what I had turned away from in myself.

Things seem different now. Alan and I are in communication again. Synchronicities are mounting. A feeling is building that what seemed missing was actually there all along.

References

Ford, Phil & J.F. Martel (2018) Weird studies episode 36 – on hyperstition. https://tinyurl.com/yyzrg8zg (weirdstudies.com). Accessed September 2020.

Kenworthy, Christopher (1996). Will You Hold Me? London: The Do-Not Press

Kenworthy, Christopher (2000). The Winter Inside. London: Serpent’s Tail.

Kenworthy, Christopher (2001). The Quality of Light. London: Serpent’s Tail.

Kenworthy, Christopher, director (2009). The Sculptor [aka The Sculptor’s Ritual].

Harm

“[M]ight it not be the case”, wonders Federico Campagna, concerning these turbulent times, “that imagination, action or even just life or happiness seem impossible, because they are impossible, at least within the present reality-settings?” (Campagna 2018: 2)

Technic and Magic by Federico Campagna
Technic and Magic by Federico Campagna

In Technic and Magic: The Reconstruction of Reality (2018) he takes the bold and unusually optimistic approach of fiddling with those settings in order to configure a new reality that he names “Magic”. He contrasts this with “Technic”, which is the defining paradigm of modernity, under which “nothing legitimately exists otherwise than as an instrument, ready to be employed in the limitless production of other instruments, ad infinitum” (Campagna 2018: 30).

Campagna adopts a Neoplatonist metaphysic, defining both Technic and Magic in terms of a series of contrasting hierarchical hypostases. It is an interesting approach, but for me it does not hold. In Neoplatonism, the hypostases (The One, Intellect, Soul, etc.) are realities in themselves; it is not simply the arrangement of ideas in a hierarchy that produces reality. Consequently, it is not possible to “swap out” hypostases or invent new ones, which is precisely what Campagna does.

His assumption is that reality is conceptual in nature (rather than experiential), definable by the relationship presumed to obtain between existence and essence during a specific historical period (Campagna 2018: 110). To posit the divine as a reality in itself would be untenable within this framework: “such absolute monism wouldn’t allow for any reality as such to take place” (Campagna 2018: 125). It is odd how some of Campagna’s underlying assumptions seem to partake of Technic, our nemesis, for whom all things “are nothing more than the simultaneous activation of positions in different series” (Campagna 2018: 70).

For all the difficulties I had with this text I found much of value in it, including Campagna’s formulation of what surfaces at the point where Technic hits its limit: the unsurmountable fact that for human beings it is unbearable to be dehumanised.

Technic’s response to this protest is to re-frame it:

The current epidemic of mental illness is not presented as a symptom of Technic’s own limit […] but rather as a problem of life itself that Technic has to tackle and fix through socio-medical means […] Technic denies the existence of anything that would authentically escape it, defining it instead as a possibility that hasn’t been fulfilled. For example, life’s mortality is included within Technic’s cosmology as an as-yet-unreached (but by no means unreachable) state of immortality […] (Campagna 2018: 93)

Technic regards it as a sorry failure of personal resilience if we buckle beneath the misery of the dominant materialist paradigm, in which consciousness is merely an epiphenomenon of physical processes, creating an illusion of meaning in a fundamentally meaningless universe – even though no one truly inhabits this paradigm, precisely because it is inhuman.

For Technic to fix life, firstly it must show life to be broken, so life without Technic must be represented as vulnerable, as “not safe”. However, as Campagna points out, “safety is a negative concept: one is safe from a threat, not in itself” (Campagna 2018: 229). To make us feel safe, Technic must first persuade us that life is a threat. In this context the notion of “harm” is used to distract us from life itself.

I encountered an small example of how this plays out in practice as a member of a paranormal investigation organisation, whose major contribution is its Code of Ethics for paranormal investigators (ASSAP 2011). It seemed to me that during the period of my membership those running the organisation were chiefly interested in advancing a sceptical agenda. The Code of Ethics seemed to be surreptitiously serving this. Two examples: “If a client has suffered a relevant bereavement within six months of making contact the case should not be accepted”, and: “We recommend you do not come into contact with minors (under the age of 18)”.

I am not arguing that these guidelines do not reflect valid and important ethical concerns but highlighting how following them will tend to preclude certain types of situations likely to present us with phenomena that could be labelled “paranormal”. The guidelines might even seem intended to prevent the very types of experience that they supposedly regulate the investigation of. If Maurice Grosse and Guy Lyon Playfair had followed this code, for instance, we would never have heard of the Enfield Poltergeist (Playfair 2011) or have the wealth of important data that was compiled from that case.

There is no doubt that recently bereaved people and emotionally disturbed teenagers are vulnerable to harm if already distressing experiences are stoked and amplified by the involvement of paranormal investigators. The most ethical course (in the sense of taking the minimal risk of doing harm) is often not to involve oneself at all. Yet death and distress are an ever-present aspect of life, and for all the obvious benefits of minimising these, at the same time something is being overlooked in the decision not to engage with them. Certainly, what is being avoided is probably unpleasant, yet it remains a part of life, regardless of our wishes it were not so.

Technic, then, can have ulterior motives for its concern with “harm”, but Campagna’s analysis suggests that Magic also has some difficult questions to answer, because if Magic does not shy from the darker side of life, but gravitates toward it with an attitude that does not award total priority to the minimisation of harm, then on what ethical grounds can Magic rest?

An illustration of the tendency in Magic to disregard harm is presented in Hellier, a nonfiction web series that follows a group of paranormal researchers whose investigations draw them progressively into the occult. It is vital viewing for insights into the dynamics of how the paranormal and the occult are currently formulated.

Hellier, the documentary
Hellier, the documentary

To investigate whether alien abduction experiences possess a non-physical dimension, the group conduct an experiment to implant a memory of abduction into a subject by hypnosis. Despite the subject remarking more than once that he does not feel safe, the hypnotist continues with the session. The result of the experiment is that the subject – who formerly did not believe in alien abductions – “has developed an intense fear of extra-terrestrials and absolutely believes that they exist” (Pfeiffer 2019: 34’38”).

The hypnotist, Lonnie Scott, has stated that he included safety protocols into the session which were not shown onscreen (Scott 2020: 8’49”), but these have evidently not protected the subject from the phobia that was the result of the experiment. None of the group comments on the obvious ethical problems in this sequence, but their interviewee, author and occultist Allen Greenfield, when asked what he thinks the experiment proves, suggests: “that these experiences can be induced by a […] sinister, insensitive, cruel human being into another” (Pfeiffer 2019: 35’25”).

It is not concern with harm but with salvation that Campagna suggests is the ethical basis for Magic. Whereas Technic aims at safety, keeping at bay the darker aspects of the world, in contrast Magic aims at “helping the inhabitants of its world to exist at once inside and outside of the world” (Campagna 2018: 230). Magic offers a way through and out, because: “salvation refers to the rescue of an entity from its exclusive identification with its linguistic dimension, and to its acceptance also of the living, ineffable dimension of its existence” (Campagna 2018: 230). Campagna notes that from the perspective of Magic “everything […] is always-already saved” (Campagna 2018: 231), but what perhaps he does not emphasise is the struggle and trauma usually entailed in realising this. Magic does not shy from the darker side of life, which Technic construes as a threat to safety, yet on its way toward its goal Magic will likely pass through what Technic construes as harm.

Clearly, harm was done to the subject of the hypnotic experiment in Hellier, and the route to salvation from there might seem difficult and less than obvious. If it could be realised from that experience of harm how memories are not the record of our experience, and how even the deepest fears can arise from something that never actually happened, then maybe this could lead to the domain promised by Magic, where we “exist at once inside and outside of the world” (Campagna 2018: 231). But how do we find our way to this place if we were not looking for it and had no inkling that it existed?

Because Magic cannot promise freedom from harm it should never be recommended by one person to another, and neither should a person be initiated into Magic without it being their choice. Yet this does not mean that Magic is necessarily harmful or by definition unethical. Ethical action from the perspective of Magic may not be about the minimisation of harm, but it is about the maximisation of opportunities for salvation.

References

ASSAP (2011). Professional code of ethics. https://tinyurl.com/y2xyg83z (assap.ac.uk). Accessed September 2020.

Campagna, Frederico (2018). Technic and Magic: The Reconstruction of Reality. London: Bloomsbury.

Pfeiffer, Karl (2019). The trickster. Hellier, season 2, episode 7. Planet Weird. YouTube, https://youtu.be/tIct9UmIiRk.

Playfair, Guy Lyon (2011). This House is Haunted, third edition. Guildford: White Crow Books.

Scott, Lonnie (2020). Weird web radio: episode 45 – solo show talking Hellier hypnosis experiments. https://youtu.be/Ha08XhPTq1w (youtube.com). Accessed September 2020.