*** The Practical Teaching of the Magician *** Spiritus ubi vult spiral: et vocem ejus audis, sed nescis unde veniat, aut quo vadat: sic est omnis, qui natus est ex spiritu. (John iii, 8) The wind blows where it wills, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know whence it comes or whither it goes; so it is with every one who is born of the Spirit. (John iii, 8) Into this happy night In secret, seen of none. Nor saw I aught, Without other light or guide. Save that which in my heart did burn. (St. John of the Cross)* * Canciones del Alma, The Dark Night of the Soul, verse iii; Cisi. G. C. Graham. London, 1922, p. 29. Dear Unknown Friend, Learn at first concentration without effort; transform work into play; make every yoke that you have accepted easy and every burden that you carry light!The words of the Master cited above have served me the key for opening the door to comprehension of the first Major Arcanum of the Tarot, The Magician, which is, in turn, the key to all the other Major Arcana. This is why I have put them as an epigraph to this Letter. And then I have cited a verse from the Songs of the Soul of St. John of the Cross, because it has the virtue of awakening the deeper layers of the soul, which one has to appeal to when the concern is the first Arcanum of the Tarot and, consequently, all the Major Arcana of the Tarot. For the Major Arcana of the Tarot are authentic symbols, i.e. they are magic, menial, psychic and moral operations awakening new notions, ideas, sentiments and aspirations, which means to say that they require an activity more profound than that of study and intellectual explanation. It is therefore in a state of deep contemplation— and always ever deeper—that they should be approached. And it is the deep and intimate layers of the soul which become active and bear fruit when one meditates on the Arcana of the Tarot. Therefore this night, of which St. John of the Cross speaks, is necessary, where one withdraws oneself in secret and into which one has to immerse oneself each time that one meditates on the Arcana of the Tarot. It is a work to be accomplished in solitude, and is all the more suitable for recluses. [Omitting, here, an important explanation of Arcana as symbols which make us fertile and by communicating ferments and enzymes which stimulate our spiritual and psychic life (page 4) and an explanation of Christian Hermeticism as a humble school in which one does not attempt to usurp their superiors in the fields of religion, philosophy, science, or the arts, but rather learns the art of learning and to listen to the heart of the spiritual life of humanity (pages 5-7).] This is the spirit of Hermeticism. And it is in this spirit that we now return to the first Major Arcanum of the Tarot. Of what does this first Card consist? A young man, wearing a large hat in the form of a lemniscate, standing behind a small table on which are arranged: a yellow-painted vase; three small yellow discs; another four red discs, in two piles, each divided down the middle by a line; a red beaker with two dice; a knife withdrawn from its sheath; and lastly a yellow bag for carrying these various objects. The young man —who is the Magician — holds a rod in his right hand (from the standpoint of the observer) and a ball or yellow object in his left hand. He holds these two objects with perfect ease, without clasping them or showing any other sign of tension, encumbrance, haste or effort. What he does with his hands is with perfect spontaneity— it is easy play and not work. He himself does not follow the movement of his hands; his gaze is elsewhere. Such is this Card. . That the series of symbols, that is to say of the revealers of the Arcana, which is the game of Tarot, is opened by an image representing a player of tricks — a magician (or juggler) who plays —is truly astonishing! How may this be explained? The first Arcanum — the principle underlying all the other twenty-one Major Arcana of the Tarot — is that of the rapport of personal effort and of spiritual reality. It occupies the first place in the series because if one does not understand it (i.e. take hold of it in cognitive and actual practice), one would not know what to do with all the other Arcana. For it is the Magician who is called to reveal the practical method relating to all the Arcana. He is the Arcanum of the Arcana, in the sense that he reveals that which it is necessary to know and to will in order to enter the school of spiritual exercises whose totality comprises the game of Tarot, in order to be able to derive some benefit therefrom. In fact, the first and fundamental principle of esotericism (i.e. of the way of experience of the reality of the spirit) can be rendered by the formula: > This counsel, or command, or even warning, however you wish to take it, is most serious; this is attested by its original source, namely the words of the Master Himself: > Let us examine in succession the three parts of this formula, in order to penetrate the Arcanum of active relaxation or effort without effort. Firstly—learn at first concentration without effort—what is this in a practical and theoretical sense? Concentration, as the faculty of fixing maximum attention on a minimum amount of space (Goethe said that he who wants to complete something of worth and of skill, der sammle still und unerschlafft, im kleinsten Punkt die grosste Kraft, i.e. that quietly and unceasingly he directs the greatest force upon the smallest point), is the practical key to ail success in every domain. Modern pedagogy and psychotherapy, the schools of prayer and spiritual exercises —Franciscan, Carmelite. Dominican and Jesuit —occult schools of every type and, lastly, ancient Hindu yoga, all approaches are in agreement about this. Patanjali, in his classic work on yoga, formulates in his first sentence the practical and theoretical essence of yoga —the first arcanum or the key of yoga —as follows: > — or, in other terms, the art of concentration. For the oscillations (vritti) of the mental substance (citta) take place automatically. This automatism in the movements of thought and imagination is the opposite of concentration. Now, concentration is only possible in a condition of calm and silence, at the expense of the automatism of thought and imagination. The to be silent therefore preceeds the to know, the to will and the to dare. This is why the Pythagorean school prescribed five years silence to beginners or hearers. One dared to speak there only when one knew and was able to, after having mastered the art of being silent —that is to say, the an of concentration. The prerogative to speak belonged to those who no longer spoke automatically, driven by the game of the intellect and imagination, but who were able to suppress it owing to the practice of interior and exterior silence, and who knew what they were saying—again thanks to the same practice. The silentium practised by Trappist monks and prescribed for the time of retreat, generally to all those there who are taking part, is only the application of the same true law: Yoga is the suppression of the oscillations of the mental substance or concentration is the willed silence of the automatism of the intellect and imagination. There are nevertheless two sorts of concentration to be distinguished, which are essentially different. The one is disinterested concentration and the other is interested concentration . The first is due to the will free of enslaving passions, obsessions and attachments, whereas the other is the result of a dominating passion, obsession, or attachment. A monk absorbed in prayer and an enraged bull are, the one and the other, concentrated. But the one is in the peace of contemplation whilst the other is carried away by rage. Strong passions therefore realise themselves as a high degree of concentration. Thus, gluttons, misers, arrogant people and maniacs occasionally achieve a remarkable concentration. But. truth to tell, it is not a matter of concentration but rather obsession in connection with such people. True concentration is a free act in light and in peace. It presupposes a disinterested and detached will. For it is the condition of the will which is the determining and decisive factor in concentration. This is why yoga, for example, demands the practice oiyama and niyama (yama — ihe five rules of moral conduct; niyama— the five rules of mortification) before the preparation of the body (through respiration and posture) for concentration and the practice of the three degrees of concentration itself (dharana, dyana, samadhi— concentration, meditation and contemplation). Both St. John of the Cross and St. Teresa of Avila do not tire of repeating that the concentration necessary for spiritual prayer is the fruit of moral purification of the will. It is therefore useless to strive to concentrate oneself if the will is infatuated with something else. The oscillations of the mental substance will never be able to be reduced to silence if the will itself does not infuse them with its silence. It is the silenced will which effects the silence of thought and imagination in concentration. This is why the great ascetics are also the great masters of concentration. All this is obvious and stands to reason. However, what occupies us here is not just concentration in general but particularly and especially concentration without effort. What is this? Look at a tightrope walker. He is evidently completely concentrated, because if he were not, he would fall to the ground. His life is at stake, and it is only perfect concentration which can save him. Yet do you believe that his thought and his imagination are occupied with what he is doing? Do you think that he reflects and that he imagines, that he calculates and that he makes plans with regard to each step that he makes on the rope? If he were to do that, he would fall immediately. He has to eliminate all activity of the intellect and of the imagination in order to avoid a fall. He must have suppressed the oscillations of the mental substance in order to be able to exercise his skill. It is the intelligence of his rhythmic system —the respiratory and circulatory system—which replaces that of his brain during his acrobatic exercises. In the last anaysis, it is a matter of a miracle —from the point of view of the intellect and the imagination — analagous to that of St. Dionysius, apostle of the Gauls and first bishop of Paris, whom tradition identifies with St. Dionysius the Areopagite, disciple of St. Paul. In particular, > Now, the tightrope walker, he too has the head —that is to say, the intellect and imagination—severed for the time of the exercise of his skill, and he also walks from one point to another, carrying his head in his hands, under the guidance of another intelligence than that of his head, which acts through the bodys rhythmic system. For the tightrope walker, the juggler, and the magician, their skill and ability are, fundamentally, analagous to the miracle of St. Dionysius; because with them as with St. Dionysius, it is a matter of transposing the centre of directing consciousness from the head to the chest —from the cerebral system to the rhythmic system. Concentration without effort is the transposition of the directing centre of the brain to the rhythmic system —from the domain of the mind and imagination to that of morality and the will. The great hat in the form of a lemniscate which the Magician wears, like his attitude of perfect ease, indicates this transposition. For the lemniscate (the horizontal eight: ∞ ) is not only the symbol of infinity, but also that of rhythm, of the respiration and circulation —it is the symbol of eternal rhythm or the eternity of rhythm . The Magician therefore represents the state of concentration without effort, i.e. the state of consciousness where the centre directing the will has descended (in reality it is elevated) from the brain to the rhythmic system, where the oscillations of the mental substance are reduced to silence and to rest, no longer hindering concentration. Concentration without effort — that is to say where there is nothing to suppress and where contemplation becomes as natural as breathing and the beating of the heart —is the state of consciousness (i.e. thought, imagination, feeling and will) of perfect calm, accompanied by the complete relaxation of the nerves and the muscles of the body. It is the profound silence of desires, of preoccupations, of the imagination, of the memory and of discursive thought. One may say that the entire being becomes like the surface of calm water, reflecting the immense presence of the starry sky and its indescribable harmony. And the waters are deep, they are so deep! And the silence grows, ever increasing... what silence! Its growth takes place through regular waves which pass, one after the other, through your being: one wave of silence followed by another wave of more profound silence, then again a wave of still more profound silence. . . Have you ever drunk silence? If in the affirmative, you know what concentration without effort is. To begin with there are moments, subsequently minutes, then quarters of an hour for which complete silence or concentration without effort lasts. With time, the silence or concentration without effort becomes a fundamental element always present in the life of the soul. It is like the perpetual service at the church of Sacre-Coeur de Montmartre which takes place, whilst in Paris one works, one trades, one amuses oneself, one sleeps, one d i e s . . . It is in like manner that a perpetual service of silence is established in the soul, which continues all the same when one is active, when one works, or when one converses. This zone of silence being once established, you can draw from it both for rest and for work. Then you will have not only concentration without effort, but also activity without effort. It is precisely this that comes to expression in the second part of our formula: transform work into play The changing of work, which is duty, into play, is effected as a consequence of the presence of the zone of perpetual silence, where one draws from a sort of secret and intimate respiration, whose sweetness and freshness accomplishes the anointing of work and transforms it into play. For the zone of silence does not only signify that the soul is, fundamentally, at rest, but also, and rather, that there is contact with the heavenly or spiritual world, which works together with the soul. He who finds silence in the solitude of concentration without effort, is never alone. He never bears alone the weights that he has to carry; the forces of heaven, the forces from on high, are there taking part from now on. In this way the truth stated by the third part of the formula: > itself becomes experience. For silence is the sign of real contact with the spiritual world and this contact, in turn, always engenders the influx of forces. This is the foundation of all mysticism, all gnosis, all magic and all practical esotericism in general. All practical esotericism is founded on the following rule: it is necessary to be one in oneself (concentration without effort) and one with the spiritual world (to have a zone of silence in the soul) in order for a revelatory or actual spiritual experience to be able to take place. In other words, if one wants to practise some form of authentic esotericism —be it mysticism, gnosis, or magic —it is necessary to be the Magician, i.e. concentrated without effort, operating with ease as if one were playing, and acting with perfect calm. This, then, is the practical teaching of the first Arcanum of the Tarot. It is the first counsel, commandment or warning concerning all spiritual practice; it is the aleph of the alphabet of practical rules of esotericism. And just as all numbers are only aspects (multiples) of unity, so are all other practical rules communicated by the other Arcana of the Tarot only aspects and modalities of this basic rule. Such is the practical teaching of the Magician.... Meditations on the Tarot, Letter 1, The Magician (pages 2-4, 7-12). fourhares/pdfs/mott/Letter-1.pdf
Posted on: Sat, 20 Sep 2014 03:19:15 +0000
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