by Alternatives at the end of a cycle of humanity
What is meant by esotericism? Before we introduce our work, it is essential to ask this question. Too often, we misunderstand the value and scope of esoteric thought. Many people perceive it as a dark and superstitious remnant of the period before the scientific revolution or as a mysterious mixture of magical knowledge concealed by initiatory secrets.
The distinction between esotericism—the inner and hidden teachings—and exotericism, which is aimed at a broader audience, has often led to misunderstandings. In reality, this separation is essential: understanding the truth hidden behind the veil of appearances requires a subtle perception that does not rely on intellectual or dialectical processes, except in the initial stages of learning. This distinction arises not from a desire for elitist control of truth by a few individuals, but because a strict reliance on factual thinking can prevent intuitive knowledge. This intuitive understanding is the very foundation of the initiatory path.
There are instances where secrets have been intentionally kept, particularly in the high-grade rituals or practices of certain initiatory schools. This occurs to preserve the integrity of the teachings and to prevent the trivialisation of words or actions that hold meaning only when used by individuals with a certain level of knowledge. Additionally, hiding these teachings may be intended to prevent improper or malicious use of specific techniques by those who, despite having achieved some degree of apprenticeship, choose to stray from the right path and exploit their knowledge for selfish purposes.
The purpose of esoteric thought and initiatory paths—provided they adhere to a valid tradition—is to overcome the separation between the individual and their objective understanding of reality. Whether one chooses a mystical approach, which relies on an inner acceptance of faith that can “move mountains,” or a direct method that purifies the soul through intentional effort, the distinction is not significant. Personal predispositions influence these choices, and ultimately, both paths lead to the same destination. What is essential is recognising the role of consciousness as an active principle, not only in interpreting reality but also in shaping it.
When we begin to question the meaning of consciousness, we separate ourselves from our perceptions, which then become distinct from us. This process allows us to become aware of something beyond ourselves. We can form relationships with the world around us through mental and intellectual exchanges, physical interactions, and emotional reactions that are influenced by our responses to external stimuli. The essence of conventional consciousness lies in this mirroring effect, which creates a dual reality: when a phenomenon occurs, it is inherently opposed by an observer who rationalises and interprets it using their cognitive faculties. This reflects a process that is reminiscent of lunar symbolism.
This concept makes sense as it helps us navigate an otherwise chaotic and meaningless world, allowing us to foster forms of cooperation that are foundational to human civilisation. However, this comes at a cost: it often sidelines the individual’s crucial role in authentically recognising their own vision. In occult teachings, the path of the heart is a journey toward a non-dual reality, characterised by a deep connection with nature—the phenomenal world—transforming it into an expression of our true selves. The physical heart symbolises this connection, serving as the central point where opposites converge. It represents the interval between systole and diastole, the moment when potential energy remains unmanifested.
Every esoteric teaching from a genuine tradition aims to involve individuals in its vision, placing them at the centre of the creative process from which reality emerges. This approach helps to diminish the illusion of separation. However, this does not imply that one must abandon everyday experiences or withdraw from worldly temptations in pursuit of a spiritual quest. While this was more feasible in the past and is still possible in some rare cases, our commitments to the intricate social fabric in which we are part often prevent us from neglecting our personal, family, and collective responsibilities. In fact, adopting such an attitude could be viewed as selfish and directly contradicts the ideal of universal brotherhood promoted by these teachings.
It is necessary to note that studying, practising, and meditating do require a certain level of concentration. Nevertheless, the time dedicated to self-improvement ultimately enhances our relationships with others and our experience in the world.
A common misconception regarding the term “tradition” relates to esoteric doctrines. This term often evokes a type of knowledge associated with ancient times, held by individuals or groups believed to possess wisdom that is now either lost or closely guarded. These groups often utilise symbols, rituals, and formulas, the meanings and functions of which they preserve with great care.
The Latin word “traditio,” from which “tradition” is derived, means “transmission.” For the transmission of knowledge to be truly effective, it must convey not just the form but also the meaning and essence of initiatory knowledge. This essence adapts to the appropriate context of its time and worldly circumstances.
While ancient symbology certainly serves a purpose, understanding its deeper substance allows us to apply its value to our daily experiences. In doing so, we can transform these experiences into opportunities for meditation and personal growth.
We still want to clarify a misunderstanding regarding the concepts of “unity” and “multiplicity.” We view these two ideas as distinct entities. Therefore, the quest for an inner synthesis between the individual and the world seems to overlook or undervalue the richness of our everyday experiences. This reflects the same ambiguity found in the separation between spirit and matter, as well as saṃsāra and nirvāṇa.
We regard unity or spirit as an abstraction, while the variety of material forms exists in a different realm. Accordingly, to reach a higher level of spirituality, we should aim to free ourselves from this materiality. However, it’s essential to recognise that there is no pure spirit or matter, nor is there complete unity or diversity. These are simply two aspects or perceptions of a single reality, which we experience as separate due to the constraints of our reflective and distinct consciousness. This tells us that we should honour all forms of diversity, but we should not impose diversity itself as an ideal.
Consider Spinoza’s idea of ‘Deus sive Natura, 1 which suggests that we cannot understand nature apart from God. Similarly, in kabbalistic thought, the Shekinah represents the immanent presence of God within the world. Finally, reflect on this profound phrase attributed to Proclus 2, the Greek philosopher who succeeded Plato: “Heaven is on earth, but in a terrestrial way, and the earth is in heaven, but in a celestial way.”
The decline in our spiritual perception of existence is not a new issue. However, we can confidently say that, today more than ever, we are witnessing a rapid deterioration of our inner vision as well as the social and material foundations upon which we build our beliefs. Currently, the advancement in our physical capabilities is not guided by ethical principles that can only be derived from understanding the laws of the spiritual realm. Instead, this leads to a false sense of progress driven by our most basic and chaotic instincts, whether we recognise it or not. Unfortunately, the recent developments we observe in the West serve as evidence of this trend.
Rather than promoting personal responsibility and critical thinking, we see a thought process built on empty phrases that are standardised and often contradictory, appealing to our most volatile and easily influenced emotions. This manipulation can provoke desired reactions without individuals being aware of the deception at play. The situation is no better concerning initiatory teachings, where the trap of spiritual materialism—using spiritual practices to reinforce selfish instincts—is ever-present.
In summary, we find ourselves on the threshold of a temporal periphery, where linear time offers the illusion of endless progress. This replaces the existential emptiness felt in minds that now lack inner light.
In 1928, René Guénon published a significant work titled “La Crise du Monde Moderne” (The Crisis of the Modern World). This book was one of the first attempts to explore the relationship between esotericism and Western civilisation, particularly in the context of a traditional awakening aimed at countering the decline of the West. Guénon identified three potential centres of support that still retained a traditional foundation capable of inspiring such a spiritual awakening.
The first, and most relevant, was related to Hindu doctrines, especially Vedānta 3, which Guénon studied before his embrace of Islamic Sufism. Second, he regarded the Catholic Church as practically the only institution in the Western world that preserved traditional symbolism, even though the true meanings of its rites had largely been lost. Lastly, he mentioned Freemasonry, although he noted that its estrangement from founding principles left it with very little hope.
Guénon envisioned the establishment of what he called an intellectual elite, characterised by an understanding of universal dogmas that could guide humanity into the next cycle while upholding traditional values. Although he recognised the setbacks humanity faced were inevitable when viewed from the broader perspective of cosmic cycles, his goal was not to prevent this inevitability but to ensure that the transition would be non-destructive.
Additionally, Julius Evola published works that examined the relationship between esoteric thought and its social implications. In “Rivolta Contro il Mondo Moderno” (Revolt Against the Modern World, 1934), he presented a sweeping overview of human evolution through the lens of four cosmic eras. In 1953, he released “Gli Uomini e le Rovine” (Men among the Ruins), which criticises democratic egalitarianism for undermining the individual’s natural dignity. “Cavalcare la Tigre” (Ride the Tiger, 1961) serves as a guide for developing the self in a world that has lost its spiritual values.
Although René Guénon and Evola share similar perspectives, they differ in their approach to action and contemplation. For Guénon, a traditional society requires the priestly class to uphold the transmission of universal principles, acting as representatives of the immutable laws that govern the manifest world—essentially, the unmoved mover at the centre of existence. In contrast, Evola believed that action is the key to awakening the masses from their subservience to Western civilisation. For him, it was crucial to reframe the eternal struggle between the Olympic gods and the titanic, telluric forces that threaten to drag humanity into the enslavement of a lifeless material existence.
As previously noted, the contradiction between action and contemplation is more apparent than real. In Hindu doctrines, which Guénon held in high regard, the school of Sāṁkhya illustrates an apparent dichotomy between Puruṣa, the transcendent element free from attributes, and Prakṛti, nature as the substance from which various differentiations arise. Similarly, in Shaivism, we see this fictitious contrast manifest in the relationship between Śiva (the god) and Śakti (his pure power).
Ultimately, action and contemplation are not opposites, but rather aspects—albeit at varying degrees—of a single reality. We can only understand the distinction on a relative level; depending on the specific time and cultural context, one may emphasise either the central aspect (contemplation—Puruṣa—Śiva) or the peripheral manifestations of that centrality (action—Prakṛti—Śakti).
This final consideration brings us to the central theme of our discussion: the potential interactions between esoteric thought and “profane” civilisation—or, recovering the etymology of the term, “what lies outside the sacred place”. It doesn’t take a prophet to recognise the signs signalling a rapid shift toward a chaotic state of consciousness and, consequently, a disordered natural experience.
Scientific thinking, despite being a valuable tool for observing reality, fragments into various branches, each claiming its independence, which leads to a lack of an organic and holistic perspective. The social fabric is held together by a form of “democratic conformism” that endorses behaviours aimed at suppressing independent thought. Furthermore, a culture of emergency creates a state of constant alertness that undermines actions that do not align with immediate societal demands.
Nature is not transformed but instead exploited, stripped of its resources and deprived of the ability to regenerate. The consumer model fosters the emergence of economic and financial power centres that become the new sacred, subjugating reality entirely to profit. Some may argue that these tendencies are characteristic of the so-called West. While this may have been true in the past, today the term “Western” has lost its geographical meaning and evolved into a dominant model of thought, even among cultures that Guénon termed “genuinely traditional.”
Let us now examine the potential for change in light of the current situation. The establishment of an “elite”—one or more groups responsible for transmitting universal values to society—poses significant challenges. Humanity currently exists at the extreme margins of spiritual awareness. There is a noticeable absence of the intermediate structures necessary to effectively disseminate the teachings of “philosophia perennis” across various sectors of human development.
We cannot ignore the existence of knowledge centres—both overt and occult—scattered throughout the world that preserve ancient wisdom in forms tied to different cultures. Furthermore, these centres undoubtedly contribute to elevating consciousness. However, this is still not sufficient to reach the critical mass needed for a significant transformation.
The opposing forces have the advantage of materiality on their side, which requires no commitment or sacrifice to be recognised and desired. The risk of reverting to our previous state is always present; it is akin to feeling spiritually enlightened for a day only to return to everyday reality. Additionally, there is the danger of being deceived by false teachings from individuals who claim to be masters, only to seek to glorify themselves or pursue personal gain.
On the complementary side of action, the situation is equally concerning. In the current environment, the type of action advocated by Evola would not be inspired by Olympic ideals at all, as it lacks the foundational inspiration from above that would provide the necessary motivation. In his autobiographical work “Il Cammino del Cinabro” (The Path of Cinnabar), Evola expressed little hope for this in the later years of his life. The reality is that the political behaviour of governments tends to be self-referential and only changes to reinforce the status quo, rather than serve a greater good. This attitude is, in some ways, understandable; every organism, whether biological or social, seeks survival. However, there is a third way to consider. Before introducing it, a brief discussion on esoteric schools and their symbolic frameworks is necessary.
Embarking on an initiatory journey often leads one to encounter teachings or institutions rooted in a distant past, and there is nothing inherently wrong with this. However, problems arise when one assumes that the value of rituals and symbols lies solely in their antiquity, stemming from an era when humanity was still steeped in magical thinking. In reality, a symbol—regardless of its form—is universal and relevant to everyday experiences. Understanding a symbol involves peeling away its layers to apply it analogously to related concepts; when this happens, it becomes “alive” and can bring about an inner transformation. If this understanding doesn’t occur, the symbolic object remains merely a lifeless artefact, and no ritual or external influence can animate it.
The initiatory training based on ancient teachings is beneficial in that it allows us to move beyond superficial layers once we comprehend and apply the underlying meanings. By symbolically interpreting reality, we transcend the limitations of our personal experiences and gain a broader understanding of our existence, which guides us as we continue our journey.
Recognising that change is an inevitable part of humanity’s journey, we should reflect on how a collective shift in individual attitudes can help mitigate the risks associated with challenging transformations. As we have observed, neither an elitist approach nor a frantic push for action will significantly address our current realities. However, through genuine social alchemy, it may be possible to assign universal meaning to diverse experiences and forms of human knowledge. By doing so, we could transform the potential for destruction into a valuable resource for change. Rather than facing a dire conclusion, we would experience a difficult transition supported by a shared understanding of acting in accordance with deeper spiritual principles, unburdened by the limitations imposed by a purely rational mindset.
The intervention proposed is complex and requires significant time, as it addresses the many intricacies on which our civilisation is built. In 1917, Rudolf Steiner, the founder of the anthroposophical movement, introduced the concept of social threefolding. Instead of a centralised state management system, he suggested dividing society into three relatively autonomous spheres: the economic, legal, and cultural domains. This division aimed to fulfil the ideals of the French Revolution: freedom in the cultural sphere, equality in the legal sphere, and fraternity in the economic sphere.
In this framework, the economic domain is responsible for managing relationships with nature and transforming natural resources into goods that provide equitable sustenance for the community. The legal sphere is tasked with regulating public and political law to maintain balance in human relationships. Finally, the cultural domain aims to integrate individual talents into the broader social fabric through opportunities for free study and spiritual pursuits.
Steiner sought to engage a broader audience in discussions about this tripartition by proposing memorials to the German and Austro-Hungarian governments, but his efforts were unsuccessful. Today, some small local and entrepreneurial initiatives have begun to implement aspects of the tripartite model.
What does this failure illustrate? It demonstrates that transformation cannot occur merely by changing a structural model, regardless of how advanced it may be. The fear of losing support from what appears to be a solid social structure makes people resistant to regime change. The only viable solution seems to involve individuals who have achieved a deeper spiritual understanding of reality. These individuals can recognise the essential connections among the various components of society, as well as between the sciences and the arts. They can initiate a process of osmosis that restores the essence—often referred to as the “gold” by hermetic philosophers—even in everyday experiences influenced by material conditions.
This path differs from the priestly or contemplative routes, as it focuses on preserving and sharing traditional knowledge. Unlike actions taken without spiritual understanding, our goal here is to develop individuals who can illuminate their everyday experiences with deeper insights. We are not trying to exert undue influence on rigid socio-political structures that are unlikely to change. Instead, we seek to transform our personal experiences in a meaningful way and engage in mutual sharing with other practitioners to elevate the vibrational level of the material world. Through this collective effort, we can contribute to the betterment of humanity and fulfil the essential purpose of any truly universal work: to unite what has become scattered.
- Baruch Spinoza (1632-1677) was a Dutch philosopher of Portuguese descent. In his work “Ethica”, he describes the concept of Natura Naturans as the self-causing activity of nature itself, equating this to God, understood as the eternal and infinite essence. Natura Naturata, on the other hand, refers to the passive product of an endless causal chain that aligns with the demands of divine expression and cannot be understood apart from God. Consequently, for Spinoza, God and nature are essentially one reality, encapsulated in the phrase “Deus sive Natura” (God or Nature). ↩︎
- Proclus Lycaeus, known as the Successor (412-485), was one of the last classical philosophers and served as the head of the Platonic Academy in Athens for nearly fifty years. He was an exceptionally prolific writer across various disciplines and had a lasting impact on the development of Neoplatonism in both Athens and Alexandria. ↩︎
- Vedānta, meaning “end of the Vedas” (Sanskrit वेदान्त), is one of the six systems (darśanas) of Hindu philosophy. Its foundation lies in the texts of the Upaniṣads, the Bhagavad Gītā, and the Brahma Sūtras. Vedānta focuses on attaining knowledge of Brahman, the ultimate reality, and Ātman, the true self of an individual, distinguishing them from the empirical ego. It represents a state of pure self-awareness that transcends identification with phenomena. ↩︎
Rispondi