The Guardian of The Threshold and The Form of Good
The materialistic universe of thought is not fit for the construction of a world-conception. If we base ourselves on it, we cannot say anything about mental and spiritual phenomena.
~ Rudolf SteinerGA11.
❚ In Few Words.
Whether a person in society, a fictional character in a Hollywood movie, or a great personality in an ancient epic text, the protagonist, throughout their narrative, encounters challenges that guide their growth and foster better integration with both themselves and society at large.
Along the path, the “hero,” as per Joseph Campbell[i], faces the notion of the “Guardian of the Threshold,” who may assume the role of an adversary, guide, or protector to an unknown realm. Frequently, this entity embodies a boundary intimately connected to the main character, serving as a challenge to be overcome.
Interpreting mythology through anthropological lenses often yields valuable insights into a society’s core principles, beliefs, and values. However, misinterpretation can distort our understanding of a culture’s ethos, as myths frequently employ symbolic and metaphorical language unique to their respective cultures. Modern interpretations can only grasp these myths based on available evidence, lacking the perspective of their creators.
A great deal of ancient wisdom has been lost over time, and in many instances, the absence of evidence complicates efforts to recover it. In other cases, knowledge endures but is obscured by epistemological debates or overshadowed by various interpretations and theories. Occasionally, fragments of knowledge are scattered across disparate libraries, awaiting integration. The pursuit of rediscovering what was once known is a common endeavor among many in society who seek understanding.
Throughout history, humanity has maintained a connection with the Guardian of the Threshold. Since ancient times, particularly within esoteric and mystical traditions, the Guardian has been perceived as an experience that initiates of the inner path confront, symbolizing “life and rebirth.”
In the last century or more, new frameworks of understanding, primarily rooted in science, have emerged, often marginalizing ancient wisdom. The profound intellectual heritage of humanity’s past has been condensed into anecdotes in history books, lacking the depth and complexity that man cultivated over millennia before this era. With the rise of new scientific-materialist approaches, what was once understood in spiritual contexts is now often rewritten and reinterpreted through material lenses.
The narrative begins with Joseph Campbell’s monomyth, or the hero’s journey, where we understand that the Guardian is situated as an integral part of the larger scheme of events that constitute the spiritual path. Jung enters this context as a catalyst for Campbell’s ideas, contributing to the notion that, in contemporary times, the understanding of the Guardian is predominantly seen as a result of unconscious processes. However, clarity on this matter remains elusive.
Rudolf Steiner, philosopher, esotericist, and the founder of Anthroposophy, stands as a figure who resisted the rise of the principles of science applied to a materialistic understanding of the universe in the 1900s. Through his work, Steiner extensively elaborated on the Guardian as both a concept and an objective entity encountered within dreams and meditation. His conception of the Guardian represents a culmination of esoteric knowledge dating back to antiquity and serves as one of the last coherent frameworks capable of elucidating the obscure ideas surrounding extraordinary experiences.
In a similar historical context, around 1500 years earlier, Julian the Apostate, the last non-Christian emperor of Rome, opposed the rise of Christianity before it became the Roman Catholic Church. He championed the ancient Roman values and traditions of esoteric and mystical knowledge, such as Mithraism. The Sun-God, embodying Plato’s Form of the Good and present in both Christianity and Mithraism, is contrasted with its opposing force, the Guardian of the Threshold. This Guardian ultimately represents the negativity that an initiate must confront to elevate their spirit and navigate the spiritual realms of the unconscious.
This text offers a perspective on the Guardian of the Threshold within esoteric traditions, depicting it as an entity that first manifests in dreams at various points along the spiritual journey of initiates in these traditions. The Guardian’s ultimate aim is to guide individuals towards Plato’s Form of the Good, also known as The One or The Good in Neoplatonism. In modern esoteric terms, this is referred to as Christ Consciousness, in Buddhism as Nirvana, and in Hinduism as Moksha.
It presents a research-based approach, drawing from historical references and personal reflections, with the goal of comprehending experiences and their connections to the wider scope of human knowledge. Rather than focusing on isolated encounters detached from a holistic understanding, the text seeks to explore these phenomena within a broader context, avoiding reduction to mere anecdotal instances.
To overcome epistemological boundaries between the ancient wisdom of esoteric knowledge with modern scientific understanding, it is important to note that in modern psychology, “mind” is a new word for “soul,” and “self” is a new word for “spirit.” Thus, when this text takes on a more esoteric format, readers unfamiliar with certain terminologies can find a common language for understanding.
The majority of people in modern society are divided between two worldviews — material and spiritual — as if they must choose one side of a coin based on belief, assuming that the reality of our experiences inherently has such sides regardless of our perception. The discussion between spiritual and material reality, the mind-body problem, has often been reduced to favor one side. However, the reality before our eyes can be elaborated in both spiritual and material terms, regardless of the nature of it. All phenomena are real once they occur in reality, though they may take on different aspects. These aspects can be understood more adequately using esoteric vocabulary, as relying solely on scientific terms risks attributing unreality to truly experienced phenomena.
❚ Contextualization.
Throughout history, humanity has continuously reshaped perceptions of the world and experiences. What was once considered mythological now holds an academic connotation and has adopted an entirely different language. For many scholars of conventional archaeology, ancient cultural legends and myths are relegated to mere stories, aimed at elevating moral and cultural values and maintaining cohesion in archaic society. Consequently, this significantly impairs the ability to form clear ideas about aspects of human experience that exist beyond the comprehension of modern society and its interpretive methods based on sociopolitics.
In this perspective, the contemporary application of the term “archaeology” to characterize the systematic examination of human history through excavation and analysis can be broadened to encompass a wider spectrum of domains and disciplines within human knowledge.
The British Museum in London has a permanent exhibition on Egypt that covers various aspects of its history, culture, and religion, both ancient and modern. Some highlights of the exhibition include the Rosetta Stone, a tablet that unlocked the secret of Egyptian hieroglyphs; the mummy cases and coffins of various rulers and nobles; textiles and garments; and many other items brought from Egypt over the last century. Archaeological exhibitions like these are created after decades of academic studies and discussions on how different aspects of an ancient society should be presented. The chosen pieces, the periods represented, and the meanings attributed to them are deliberate in defining a narrative compatible with the current understanding of these cultures.
It is commonly agreed that such exhibitions are reduced forms of demonstrating the complexity of traditional societies of the past. Similarly, when the objects of study are not material artifacts but products of the mind, such as myths and human experiences, the reductionist notion permeates contemporary understandings and theories.
Researchers and enthusiasts from various fields of knowledge, concerned with aspects of the human mind, have found fertile ground for new ideas in ancient traditional cultures. In a society that believes in its progressive development, it becomes crucial to discover uncharted territories that can generate new studies.
In the field of archaeology, when material objects are found and brought into exhibition, it makes no sense without an accompanying history. This history that provides context to the object is precisely what a progressive society is seeking. If archaeological materials lack history or context, they are nothing more than mere antiquity and would eventually be valued for their material or sentimental worth but not for their historical value.
Similarly, knowledge domains focused on past cultures concerned with aspects of the human mind bring folkloric tales, myths, behaviours, psychology, customs, traditions, art, language, concepts, methods, and a multitude of other relics. When presented in essays, articles, books, conferences, or other forms of proliferating ideas, these encounters with the past are always imbued with a new understanding or perspective. Without this, they would be mere stories and would have value as teachings or sentiment but none for the understanding of the human being in a current context.
At this point, it is quite evident that when modern society looks at the past, it cannot contextualize it without permeating the understanding with its own current context. Thus, directing human understanding according to a pre-established narrative coherent with other domains of human knowledge that often have no interest in specificity and complexity of the subject. Even though these two areas, archaeology, and mythology, belong to the realms of humanity, they have appropriated scientific methods and narrative, gaining recognition and credibility in their studies.
The daily experiences and customs of a culture intertwine with myths and beliefs. Both modern and traditional cultures always have a comprehensive conception of the world. This “worldview” is a fundamental cognitive orientation that encompasses the knowledge, culture, and perspective of an individual or society. Worldviews are not static notions; they are constantly changing, incorporating new experiences, and pushing cultures to accommodate new issues in an ever-changing natural world.
Analysis and interpretations detached from real experiences cannot clearly describe the reality that is truly experienced. History changes as a civilization moves toward its future. No human understanding can be fixed or permanent. All aspects of reality are in a constant state of flux.
Alfred North Whitehead, a prominent 20th century philosopher, presents a distinctive philosophical body of ideas that holds the potential to unravel the intricacies of misleading notions. Whitehead’s process philosophy, articulated in his work “Process and Reality,” first published in 1929[ii], redefines reality as a dynamic process of becoming, challenging reductionist perspectives that treat objects of inquiry as fixed and isolated. Half a century later, Michel Foucault, a philosopher and historian of ideas, in ‘Archaeology of Knowledge,’[iii] describes that systems of understanding are not fixed or universal but change over time and vary across different domains and disciplines. These systems are not determined by the consciousness or intentions of individual subjects but by the rules and norms operating beneath the surface of discourse.
In the present time, there is notable discordance in many aspects of the human experience, where we encounter subjective experiences that resist objectification by others. Nevertheless, such experiences can still be understood and discussed in objective terms. In these circumstances, the “Guardian of the Threshold” is sometimes defined as an adversary, other times as a guide, sometimes as a concept, and other times as a real entity, at times with an independent will, and other times as antagonistic behavior dependent on the unfolding experience.
Other aspects of the Guardian also yield a fertile field of ideas. When depicted as an entity, it may assume myriad appearances and names. It might manifest as a creature with a thousand heads, a thousand eyes, a thousand arms, or a thousand tentacles, taking forms such as a serpent, a dragon, or a spectral figure, occasionally referred to as Lucifer, Ahriman for the Persians, Za Rahula for the Tibetans, Ganesha in Hinduism, Apophis in ancient Egypt, Cerberus in Greek mythology, among many others. Often, folkloric figures in dreams exhibit similar behavior to the Guardian, and in shamanistic cultures, encounters with the Guardian are recurrent and predominantly linked to the spirits of the ancestors.
The objectivity of the Guardian as an entity to be measured and displayed for the general public serves as a good story around the campfire or in the creation of the next big Hollywood movie. Consequently, the reality of the Guardian only comes into existence when subjectivized in the context of individual experience. This process of subjective experience shapes the behavior and appearance of the Guardian. However, subjective experience is only possible if the Guardian is present, albeit in an unmanifested form.
Joseph Campbell’s “The Hero with a Thousand Faces,” written in 1949, is influential in the exploration of recurring patterns within myths and stories across diverse cultures. At its core lies the concept of the monomyth, or hero’s journey, wherein Campbell contends that various myths share a universal structure systematically elaborated on 17 distinct stages. It is worth noting that not every monomyth overtly includes all 17 stages; certain narratives may intentionally emphasize specific stages, while others demonstrate a nuanced traversal of the sequence.
A key insight in Campbell’s work revolves around the transformative nature inherent in the hero’s journey. The protagonist grapples with trials, confronts challenges, and ultimately undergoes profound personal growth and self-discovery. This odyssey symbolizes a figurative death and rebirth, underscoring life’s cyclical nature.
Campbell’s original monomyth has left a permanent mark within literature, film, and other narrative arts. A multitude of filmmakers, writers, and creators have embraced Campbell’s insights, shaping their stories based on the hero’s journey and contributing to its widespread adoption in modern storytelling. Christopher Vogler, a Hollywood development executive and screenwriter associated with Disney, explored Campbell’s structure in his 1992 book “The Writer’s Journey: Mythic Structure for Writers.”[iv] Vogler’s approach dissects the mythical story structure, providing a detailed perspective on the hero’s narrative.
In Campbell’s writings, Jung is frequently referenced. Campbell draws on Jung’s concepts of archetypes and the collective unconscious to explain the universal patterns found in myths across cultures. In his work “Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious,”[v] Jung introduced the concept of archetypes influenced by various cultural and religious traditions from his studies in psychology, mythology, and anthropology. According to Jung, archetypes are universal symbols and motifs found in myths, dreams, and art across different cultures. Archetypes, such as the Hero, the Shadow, and the Anima/Animus, represent fundamental human experiences crucial for understanding mythic narratives.
The collective unconscious, a shared reservoir of experiences and memories inherited from humanity’s past, raises mythological themes and symbols in various cultural forms. This observation served to reinforce Jung’s concept of universal archetypes, suggesting that certain fundamental symbols and themes are ingrained in the collective human psyche, transcending cultural boundaries and manifesting in both personal dreams and cultural mythologies.
The 17 stages of Campbell’s hero’s journey function as a model for comprehending ancient myths. Analogously, in cosmology fields of study, it corresponds to the term “the scientific model of the universe,” a framework describing the structure, composition, and evolution of the cosmos based on empirical evidence and mathematical principles.
The controversy is that, both in science and in the study of ancient cultures, the model often holds more importance than new evidence. Typically, evidence undergoes greater scrutiny than the model interpreting it. Campbell’s model has received much criticism focused on its supposed universality and applicability to all mythologies. Some argue that Campbell oversimplifies diverse cultural narratives, imposing a monomyth structure that may not accurately reflect the complexity of individual mythologies. Critics claim that his emphasis on common elements ignores cultural specificity and diminishes the unique aspects of various heroic journeys. Furthermore, some scholars argue that Campbell’s structure neglects the sociopolitical contexts that are theorized to shape such myths. Similarly, scientific models of reality often neglect the specificities of experiences to accommodate the interests of conceptual models. It is a matter of interests, as the limit of scientific understanding is defined by the materialist model of comprehension.
Joseph Campbell’s monomyth begins with the “Call to Adventure,” wherein the hero is presented with a challenge or opportunity that initiates their journey. Subsequently, the hero undergoes the “Threshold Crossing,” leaving behind their familiar world and venturing into the unknown, often aided by a mentor figure. This transition leads to a sequence of trials and tribulations known as the “Road of Trials,” during which the hero faces various tests, encounters allies and adversaries, and acquires valuable insights. Throughout this journey, the hero may encounter a “Supernatural Aid” or receive guidance from divine forces. As the quest unfolds, the hero confronts the “Abyss” or the ultimate challenge, where they must confront their deepest fears or weaknesses. Through this ordeal, the hero undergoes a profound transformation and attains enlightenment, known as the “Apotheosis.” Finally, the hero returns to the ordinary world, enriched with newfound wisdom or a boon to share, thus completing the cycle of the monomyth.
Campbell’s monomyth is an eternal object in metaphysical terms, serving as guiding principles or foundational elements that influence the unfolding of the narrative. It provides a framework for understanding the protagonist’s actions and the trajectory of events, offering a universal pattern through which the journey of the hero can be comprehended across different cultures and stories.
This datum is an eternal object; and an eternal object refers only to the purely general any among undetermined actual entities. In itself an eternal object invades any selection among actualities or epochs.
~ Alfred North Whitehead[vi].
Whitehead’s concept of eternal objects also shares similarities with ideas found in the works of philosophers such as Plato, Aristotle, Leibniz, and Immanuel Kant. Each of these thinkers explored the nature of abstract entities or universals that exist independently of particular instances. Plato’s theory of Forms, Aristotle’s concept of universals, Leibniz’s notion of monads, and Kant’s idea of transcendental categories all touch upon aspects of eternal or abstract entities that have qualities beyond individual instances.
Coherent notions of timeless entities can be found in Eastern philosophies and spiritual traditions. In Hinduism, for example, Brahman encompasses the ultimate or absolute reality, which is beyond time and space and encompasses all existence, representing the pure and undetermined essence from which all phenomena arise. Similarly, in Buddhism, Dharma refers to the fundamental nature of reality as eternal and unchanging, transcending individual instances and phenomena. In Taoism, the Tao is considered the eternal principle of the universe.
In both Eastern and Western traditions, recurring themes in historical, mythological, and folkloric narratives depict protagonists facing challenges that require changes in their habitual behavior to navigate these obstacles, thereby transcending imposed limits. The failure to adapt leads to persistent resistance, highlighting the imperative need for behavioral change to overcome adversity.
Borrowing mythological structures to describe experiences that initiates in clairvoyance have during dreams might seem inadequate or even absurd to most people, as most lead ordinary lives and do not experience epic stories in dreams. However, Jung suggests that the unconscious can be understood through archetypes, which represent abstract objects that transcend time but take specific forms when experienced in dreams. Yet, when we look at modern psychology over the past few decades, we see a tendency to focus on individual potential and self-actualization, with little attention given to the principles by which the human psyche is governed in metaphysical terms.
❚ Esoteric Knowledge.
A concept rooted in philosophies founded on interconnectedness and non-dualism is the idea of overcoming an existential condition inherent in human experience: the angst of being human, of living a conditioned existence subject to the forces of the natural world. The concept of suffering in Buddhism is referred to as the principle of Dukkha, which is often translated as suffering but has a more nuanced meaning. Dukkha is sometimes described metaphorically as a wheel that is off its axle, implying a sense of disquiet or unsatisfactoriness. The notion is not that life is suffering, but that life doesn’t satisfy.
The Abrahamic religions—Judaism, Christianity, and Islam—also address the discomfort with life, much like Eastern philosophies. Even materialism, the modern value system concerned with possessions and social image, discusses suffering and its resolution in terms of well-being and happiness. Socially and self-destructively, materialism often leads to an incessant pursuit of material goods in the quest for happiness, resulting in increased dissatisfaction and suffering.
Extensive research on the relationship between materialism and well-being suggests that materialistic individuals are more likely to experience lower levels of well-being and happiness. This stems from a focus on external rewards and validation rather than intrinsic values and personal growth. Materialists may struggle with gratitude, associated with increased depression and dissatisfaction.
To confront our own condition of unfulfillment in the natural world, we continually strive to balance the existential trinity: physical/material, soul/mind, and spiritual/self. Thus, we must endure states of dissatisfaction and overcome self-imposed limits to reach higher states of fulfillment. This is the fundamental principle of the Guardian of the Threshold as a boundary present in human experience when we seek higher states of fulfillment esoterically.
We can argue that dissatisfaction is the fuel of modern society. Sociopolitical and economic issues pull modern humans out of a state of nihilism, yet still leave them in search of conditioned comfort. Our understanding of the natural world and human relationships catalyzes the association between dissatisfaction and cultural context. Therefore, we must always seek higher states of understanding, which will eventually bring us greater personal comfort and are capable of breaking this cycle.
In the quest for well-being, modern society, fundamentally based on religious disbelief but essentially derived from religious thought, seeks the ancient knowledge of Eastern spiritual philosophies regarding physical, soul, and spiritual practices. These practices are then syncretically merged into contemporary culture, as if society is trying to recover something forgotten from the distant past to reemerge with a greater understanding of itself and the world.
As ancient practices are integrated into modern society, a notable shift occurs in their interpretations and applications. In the East, for example, meditation has deep roots in spiritual and philosophical traditions, connected to the quest for enlightenment and transcendence, where altered states of consciousness are considered intrinsic to the transformative nature of meditation. In contrast, in the West, particularly in recent decades, there has been a tendency to secularize meditation, emphasizing its tangible benefits for mental and physical well-being. The focus has shifted to stress reduction and relaxation techniques, detaching meditation from its spiritual foundation. The pursuit and attainment of mental and physical well-being through meditation is not an ethical issue; however, many emotional and physical experiences during meditation may be considered undesirable and are not understood as part of the spiritual growth process.
In the modern era, historians and archaeologists extensively engage in research to recover what has been lost over time, aiming to rescue ancient knowledge as presumed. However, sociopolitical vocabulary permeates the academic field and is transmitted through the chain of knowledge down to primary schools. Indeed, ancient knowledge often gets lost and transformed into a static state of information stored in books that serve for analytical and comparative studies, but not as knowledge that can be practically applied in modern times.
The original Chinese classic novel “Journey to the West,” attributed to Wu Cheng’en of the Ming Dynasty, is deeply inspired by the historical pilgrimage of the Buddhist monk Xuanzang during the 7th century. Born on April 6, 602, in Henan, China, Xuanzang showed a great interest in religious studies from a young age. He was ordained as a novice monk at thirteen and as a full monk at twenty. Around 629, Xuanzang embarked on a pilgrimage to India to acquire authentic Buddhist scriptures and correct discrepancies in the texts available in China. Despite a travel ban imposed by the Chinese emperor, he journeyed through Central Asian cities such as Khotan, Tashkent, and Samarkand before reaching India. During his seventeen years of travel, Xuanzang visited Nalanda University in Bihar, studying under the guidance of the monk Śīlabhadra. He collected numerous Sanskrit texts and translated them into Chinese, profoundly influencing Buddhism in East Asia.
Petrarch—Francesco Petrarca—is widely recognized as the progenitor of humanism, a movement that shaped the Renaissance era. Born in 1304 in Italy, Petrarch’s identity as a scholar, poet, and writer drove him to intellectual pursuits, curating and studying classical texts, including works by eminent figures such as Cicero, Virgil, and Seneca. Petrarch’s writings advocated for classical education, the cultivation of Latin scholarship, and the promotion of civic virtues. He believed that a deep understanding of history could serve as a guide for societal improvement.
Erasmus—Desiderius Erasmus—a luminary of the Dutch Renaissance, emerged as a central figure in the revival of classical scholarship and humanist thought. Born in 1466, Erasmus excelled as a polymath, theologian, and scholar, championing the renaissance of classical learning, exemplified by his endorsement of studying ancient Greek and Latin texts. He promoted a comprehensive approach to education, advocating the integration of religious and secular knowledge.
The Renaissance, defined as the “rebirth of the ancient world,” is a period that witnessed significant developments in Western esoteric traditions, including Neoplatonism and Hermeticism. These philosophical views, derived from medieval Platonism and newly discovered ancient literature, provided new perspectives on humanity and nature in the early Renaissance.
We can also look at the Waldorf education system, created in 1919 by Rudolf Steiner, which is based on a holistic approach to human development, educating children from preschool age on the principles of body, soul, and spirit. Through art, music, and crafts, children are encouraged to develop their intellectual and emotional capacities. Similarly, adolescents engage with ancient and classical cultures to develop philosophical, critical, and ethical thinking. Studies of Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle, as well as Greek mythology and classical works such as those by Homer, serve as a philosophical foundation for developing complex and detailed forms of thought.
Therefore, meditation, when stripped of its spiritual aspects, becomes merely a well-being practice and can be studied in medical fields analytically, producing statistical results that encourage or discourage its practice. Similarly, the academic study of ancient world history is rich in elements for sociopolitical imagination but poor in spiritual context, which were, in fact, the primary motivators for the development of such societies. Thus, criticisms like those directed at Campbell’s monomyth for lacking sociopolitical context also fall into the trap of forgetting that mythologies are predominantly spiritual in content and esoteric in origin, and that the sociopolitical world has become a widespread reality mainly in recent centuries.
❚❚ The Sun-God.
From the Americas to the East, various ancient cultures and religions had the Sun-God as one of the main figures in their pantheons. The Greeks, for example, understood that beyond the physical sun there was a spiritual reality. Egyptian, Indo-European, and Mesoamerican civilizations developed solar religions, all sharing a developed urban civilization ideologically rooted in esotericism and mystical traditions.
To modern eyes, politics in antiquity was associated with religious belief systems in different forms, governed by a select group of people. This idea suggests that the ruler—whether a person, a political party, or an aggregation of different parties—ultimately defines the laws that regulate the social contract. On the other hand, we, as individuals in society, living most of the time away from the decision-making table, must adhere to the social contract more than directly influence it.
Thomas Hobbes, in his 1651 work “Leviathan,”[vii] presents an understanding of human nature and the social contract, offering a materialistic perspective. He describes the natural condition of humanity, or the state of nature, as a pre-political state where there is no common authority to impose laws and ensure order. In this condition, individuals have the freedom to act according to their own wills, driven by self-preservation and personal desires. Unlike natural societies that may emerge organically, political order, according to Hobbes, is deliberately created through the conscious decision of individuals.
In the sociopolitical thought of ancient Rome, the adoption of Christianity was as much a political decision as a spiritual revelation in Constantine’s life. Christianity gave legitimacy to Constantine and gained religious importance but faced resistance from the population in accepting a single religion represented by a single god. Occult religions like Mithraism, present from England to Bulgaria, from the Mediterranean to Egypt, were persecuted during and after Constantine’s period, with temples and art destroyed by Christians until around the fourth century. This moment in Western history has often been referenced in more recent academic material as the destruction of the classical world by Christianity[viii].
The persecution of paganism, the destruction of temples and art, and the submission to Christianity should not be seen as a generalized Christian effort, as there was no agreement among the various Christian clerics of the time. In works by Saint Augustine, influenced by Neoplatonism, such as “The City of God” and “Confessions” written around 397–400 AD, we see that the Christian ideal of a single god also served as an attempt to unify the different cultures and tribes under Roman rule and end the religious conflicts that ultimately did not contribute to the governability of the state. Christianity found itself divided into two strands since antiquity: one concerned with the revelation of Christ’s mysteries and divine communion, and the other with maintaining the political character more closely tied to the state.
H. Doerries, the biographer of Constantine, considers it anachronistic even to pose the question how far Constantine’s official and public arguments in favour of the adoption of Christianity corresponded with his own personal thoughts and sentiments. According to him, ‘politics were for him determined by religion, and religion was the consequence of politics.’
[...]
the companions of St Prisca invaded the sanctuary of Mithras and destroyed its fittings. This iconoclasm was inspired by the fact that the Mithraic images portrayed the Christians’ most hated rival, and so it was imperative to expunge the frescoes and in particular the representation of the sacred meal of Mithras and Sol with its affinities to the Eucharist. The Christians hacked at the paintings with axes, while the followers of Mithras succeeded, at the last minute it seems, in saving a few things, as is proved by the survival of a cache of sixteen undamaged lamps.
~ Marteen Vermaseren[ix].
In pre-Zoroastrian Iran, Mitra was one of the most important deities in the ancient Iranian religion. In the Roman context, the veneration of Mitra began about 4,000 years ago in Persia. Mitra is depicted as a Sun-God, of justice and contracts, and is shown slaying a bull in a scene known as the “tauroctony,” a representation of the triumph of good over evil and the cycle of life.
After the religious reforms of Zarathustra (Zoroaster), Mitra became a Yazata, or divine being, associated with the covenant and the sun, but he was not the supreme god. The supreme deity in Zoroastrianism is Ahura Mazda, the “Wise Lord.” Zoroastrianism is considered one of the world’s oldest continuously practiced religions, and Zoroaster is an important figure in the history of world religions due to his teachings, which include monotheism.
Just as in the ritual of the Eucharist, Christianity and Mithraism had many similarities, as pointed out by Vermaseren. Most scholars propose that these similarities arise from syncretism, but both religions have esoteric origins, making them mystery religions. In the late Roman period, sun worship became increasingly significant, leading to a form of solar monotheism. Many gods adopted solar qualities, and figures like Christ and Mitra were seen with such attributes of power and strength, vitality and fertility, and as creators. The Roman festival of “Sol Invictus,” celebrated on December 25, was later adopted by Christians as Christmas, marking the birth of Christ.
The religious struggle that developed in the context of Roman politics was an attempt to define the cultural-religious narrative of the time, between paganism and Christianity. The shift in the religious landscape of Rome, marked by the death of Julian the Apostate in 363, the last non-Christian emperor, and the rise of Christianity as the main religion of the Roman state, was directly motivated by two different worldviews of Sun-God worship. On one side, Julian, initiated into the Mithraic mysteries, Christianity, and Neoplatonism, defended the ancient world of solar cults; on the other, Constantine, converted to Christianity, represented the rising orthodox and material world.
The second half of the fourth century was decisive for the outcome of the struggle between Christianity and paganism. The unwillingness of the Emperor Julian to conform to his rigid Christian upbringing led to his being named the Apostate. Strongly under the influence of the neo-platonic school, with an inclination towards the mystical, Julian declared himself a convinced Mithraist.
[…]
J. Bidez, who has written a fine biography of Julian, describes him in glowing terms as the last emperor who professed the Mithraic faith. Julian recognised that if Mithraism were to become the world religion, it had to discard many of its more primitive aspects and be prepared to assimilate more philosophical elements, a consideration which must have contributed to those signs of the mysticism of Lamblichus which appear in the Emperor’s own ‘Hymn to the sun,’ Mithras is the sun and is one and the same with Apollo, Phaethon, Hyperion and Prometheus. The other gods merely express different aspects of the power of the sun. Julian saw himself in the role of a good shepherd, whose moral code was laid down by Mithras: ‘Goodness towards the people he had to rule, piety towards the gods and moderation’.
~ Marteen Vermaseren[x].
In this respect Constantine and Julian are symbols of historical evolution. Julian may be said to have stood on the shattered ruins of the past, wanting to rebuild the forms of the old wisdom out of those ruins. The old forms had been destroyed by Christianity, which initially, under Constantine, had taken materialistic form. Countless works of art, works of ancient wisdom and written works were destroyed, anything that might give people even a hint of the old sun Mystery.
~ Rudolf Steiner[xi].
In Mithraism, as in the religions of ancient Egypt and Greece, the Sun-God is the sun in the sky for the external world, the giver of physical life, but also represents the internal Solar Mystery in human experience, the giver of spirit, with Mithra serving as the mediator between the spiritual and physical worlds. In Christianity, the physical sun does not have the same spiritual significance, as God is absolute and the creator of all reality. The pagan-Christian conflict has as an important point of contention in relationship with the external world, in which it is either a deity or created by a deity.
While recognizing God’s creation as good, historically, some Christian interpretations have seen the material world as secondary to spiritual life. In contrast, paganism views the natural world as sacred and divine, with its cycles revered, and many gods associated with natural elements such as the sun, moon, planets and the stars.
In the eyes of Julian and the mystery religions, Christianity was seen as the anti-Christ due to its rigid monotheism and the exaggerated importance given to the figure of Christ. On the other hand, Constantine saw the ancient world as the anti-Christ due to its polytheistic nature. This political landscape, at the cost of the fate of Western culture, turned into a persecution of esoteric and classical knowledge, as Constantine’s Christian tone took on an orthodox and materialistic form, reflecting the idea of the Roman Empire.
When we look at this period in history, it becomes clear that the Roman Empire’s interest in expansion required the regulation of religious practices to create a governable state. For Julian, this could be achieved through the reunification of classical and traditional knowledge with Rome’s political needs, attempting to define a system of governance based on Neoplatonic philosophy and freedom of worship. However, Constantine’s materialistic aspirations required unity between politics and religion, leading to widespread persecution of paganism and its cultural legacy, creating a trend of orthodox thought. Thus, between 312 AD, with Constantine’s conversion to Christianity, and 476 AD, with the collapse of the centralized power of the Roman Empire in the West, we see the turning point of thought that propagated during the Middle Ages, oriented towards orthodoxy and dogmatism.
We can notice a similar situation with the rise of materialist thought in the 18th century, defined by the industrial revolution and the ideal of scientific thought, where all phenomena could ultimately be reduced to matter. At this point, we see another force of contention, where esotericism and mysticism, which found broad interest in the Victorian period, tried to rescue classicism and the pagan movements of antiquity. Steiner and Blavatsky, along with other important figures in esotericism and critical thought, such as Nietzsche, created a stream of resistance to exclusively materialist thought and the orthodox view of Christianity. Thus, we have a new emergence of paganism, which found freedom and inspiration, leading to the broad rise of religions in the 19th century that incorporated Christianity in a more liberal form.
With Steiner and Blavatsky, the spiritual reality as per the religions and mystery practices of antiquity, whether Western or Eastern, as well as the Bible, the Kabbalah, and the Greek classics of Socrates, Aristotle, and Plato, and Neoplatonism, found new breath amid the materialist revolution. Myths and biblical stories, for example, are revisited in the experiences of initiates in esoteric traditions that explore the true origin of these narratives, offering a distinct view from that presented in historical and archaeological studies, which have appropriated the materialist model of viewing the ancient world.
❚❚ The Realism of Myths.
For many, perhaps no statement in Oscar Wilde’s “The Decay of Lying” is more paradoxical than the idea that life imitates art much more than art imitates life. This contradicts the familiar ideological view, through the lens of traditionalism, that art is an imitation of the natural world from which it draws inspiration. Instead, it is through art that nature gains perception and understanding. Wilde places great importance on the idea that true art comes from the creative power of inner vision and the inventive capacity of the artist. The natural world, then, in this sense, is not the source of inspiration but a canvas upon which interpretations are artistically projected.
The narrative of our lives, when viewed from a spiritual perspective, constitutes a cosmic drama. Humans are beings who struggle to understand the natural world and their place in it, trying to find purpose in what they do. This narrative may not be seen as a mythological tale involving supernatural beings or heroes, but it tells the story of natural phenomena, our culture, and our beliefs, much like the great myths.
The individual story each of us lives is not so distinct from those others live, nor is the trajectory of human society unique when seen on a macro scale. To perceive this, we need to develop an external perspective on existence, looking at it from a cosmic retrospective. Viewing ourselves objectively can reveal many aspects of our biases as we try to explain how the past unfolded.
The great myths of the past are commonly understood as products of purely imaginative processes. For example, the symbolism of ancient Egypt is often seen as the result of a creative process where humans, observing their natural environment, developed symbolic representations in hieroglyphs and art. It is generally assumed that the depiction of a deity, half-man and half-animal, reflects the personal characteristics of that deity based on the creativity of the culture that developed such iconography.
While this perspective correctly addresses the attributes of the entity, it misinterprets the motivations behind the creation of these representations. Iconographic representations originate from the human unconscious, often brought to consciousness through dreams or altered states of consciousness, rather than from a creative process that mimics nature. Thus, we find in nature the means by which we can indirectly express what exists within us as direct experiences. For example, when we interpret dreams with wild animals, we primarily understand that the dream is about the abstract idea of the animal, not the animal itself in most cases, yet we still say we dreamed of a lion nonetheless.
Modern works in literature, cinema, painting, sculpture, and music, as well as scientific theories and industrial products, are often attributed to insights derived from states of consciousness different from the waking state. For example, Dmitri Mendeleev sought to systematically organize the 65 known chemical elements and recognized an underlying pattern related to atomic weight, though its precise nature was unknown. Later, Mendeleev said, “In a dream, I saw a table where all the elements fell into place as required.” Salvador Dalí referred to many of his works as hand-painted dream photographs, with one of his most famous pieces, “The Persistence of Memory,” being inspired by a dream.
While one might observe a landscape and attempt to reproduce it perfectly in a painting, the final result invariably combines visible ideas from the world and an unconscious creative process. For example, Vincent van Gogh’s painting technique is said to have developed through a combination of formal studies, artistic influences, and personal experimentation. Although many people had influences similar to Van Gogh’s, they certainly did not develop his technique. This suggests that the process of imagination originates within the person, with elements of the external world serving as the means by which such imagination is represented. Saying that, thanks to studies and different influences, an artist like Van Gogh developed his technique is, in fact, the reduced means by which others try to understand Van Gogh’s internal experiences. But for the artist himself, inspiration is an internal phenomenon present during the artistic creation process.
When asked about his form of expression, Van Gogh often described his method as one that sought to capture the emotional and spiritual essence of his subjects, not just their physical likeness. He mentioned his desire to convey his internal feelings and the intensity of his experiences through his art. Thus, an artistic analysis of the influences on Van Gogh’s work must consider the unconscious content of his mind, not just the external factors that can be easily observed.
Similarly, when looking at ancient mystery traditions, such as Mithraism and early Christianity, the figure of the Sun-God should not be reduced to studies based solely on external evidence but should incorporate spiritual understandings, as these are, in fact, the motivation for philosophies and religions in the first place.
Before our era, various cultures underwent significant social development, forming philosophies, religions, and cults centered around two deities: the Sun-God, embodying power, creation, and sustenance, and the Guardian of the Threshold, symbolizing darkness, chaos, or the antithesis of light and order.
In Mesopotamian mythology, Shamash was the arbiter of justice and truth. Similarly, in ancient Egyptian religion, Ra was the supreme deity, associated with creation and the afterlife, often depicted traversing the sky in a solar barque. Greek mythology honored Helios, who personified the sun and was believed to drive his chariot in the skies each day. In ancient Iranian cultures, Mithra was worshiped for maintaining cosmic order and light. The Roman Sol Invictus, an invincible deity, symbolized continuity and stability.
Christianity integrates the solar image, particularly in the symbolism of Christ as the “Light of the World,” with representations often including a solar disc or halo behind his head to signify his divine illumination. Despite regional variations, these Sun-Gods shared fundamental attributes of illumination, vital energy, and the daily journey across the sky, reflecting a universal reverence for the essential role of the sun in human existence.
In contrast to the Sun-Gods, these ancient cultures also conceptualized deities symbolizing the antithesis of light and order as the Guardian of the Threshold. These figures often personified the struggle against the sun’s vital force.
In Mesopotamian mythology, Ereshkigal, the goddess of the underworld, ruled over the land of the dead, opposing Shamash’s dominion over the living. In ancient Egyptian religion, Apophis (or Apep), the serpent of chaos, was Ra’s eternal enemy, constantly attempting to devour the sun and plunge the world into darkness. Greek mythology presented Erebus, the primordial deity of darkness, existing in opposition to Helios. In the cultural mythology of ancient Iran and Iraq, Angra Mainyu (Ahriman) personified the destructive spirit and darkness, opposing Mithra’s beneficial light.
The Roman counterpart, Nox, the goddess of night, stood in opposition to Sol Invictus, personifying the absence of light. Christianity also includes the concept of a Guardian of the Threshold in the form of Satan or Lucifer, representing the forces of darkness and chaos in opposition to Christ’s divine light.
Modern society often compares itself to ancient societies, seeing itself not only as different but also more developed, belonging to a higher state of human cultural evolution where myths are things of the past. Consequently, when examining such a past, most people view myths as artistic and theatrical forms that conventionalize real ideas and concepts but speak of things that are not directly real. However, when we consider modern society and its myths, including cultural, social, political, and scientific allegories, we see these as real facts of life, despite often being purely theoretical and disconnected from tangible realities.
When a physicist theorizes about parallel realities or time travel, these concepts are considered more real than ancient myths. Yet, for ancient societies, their relationship with their myths was similar to the relationship our modern society has with its myths.
Just as in the past, blind belief in narratives without adequate questioning can transform allegories into reality. Today, many people without scientific understanding create explanations for their daily experiences based on allegories borrowed from science. In this way, ancient societies, like today, attributed realism to their myths, and the distinction between reality and fiction is more a cultural convention than a fact in our lives.
In both ancient and modern cultures, communication relies on symbolism. Our thoughts are always represented symbolically functioning as triggers to initiate a process of meaning-making within us to express these thoughts. Modern myths are found in films, music, cartoons, comics, marketing, and other media forms, including scientific and political understandings. By examining these, we can understand the worldview that society holds.
Myths and art result from mental processes based on inspiration. As Wilde emphasized, nature takes expression from the art we create. Nature is the canvas upon which we apply meaning, defining everything from who we are to what the world is, and we pass this story on, establishing a common medium of communication.
According to Jung, myths are expressions of the collective unconscious, archetypal images from the deepest layers of the human psyche. Myths and art are projections of these archetypes, offering a narrative structure to the universal patterns of human experience. Through creating and interpreting art, individuals encounter the unconscious, making visible the invisible forces that shape their psyche.
Modern films, for example, are expressions of our psyche, often originating from unconscious processes but consciously elaborated. The narrative, characters, and scenes are symbolic representations framed within cultural narratives but rooted in an unconscious base grounded in fundamental forms of symbolism. This suggests that both our conscious and unconscious minds are inherently based on symbolic representation, or even on mythological or artistic forms.
Therefore, Hobbes’ idea in “Leviathan” that political order is deliberately created through conscious decisions should be expanded to recognize that our political concepts are, in fact, of unconscious origin and find their field of application in the natural world.
Steiner’s view on myths is that they conveyed truths originating from spiritual insights and served as a means for ancient peoples to communicate their experiences. He suggests that the evolution of human consciousness can be traced through changes in myths and art, proposing that as humanity’s spiritual consciousness evolves, so too does the nature and interpretation of myths and artistic expressions.
When we examine the past, we often do so through the lens of modern systems of thought about symbolism. It is assumed that ancient societies conceptualized the world based on religious beliefs and structures, just as modern humans conceptualize reality through objective and scientific structures. However, our modern understanding of religion is viewed from an atheistic perspective, whereas, in the past, religions represented an inherently spiritual reality. Thus, myths and art are not products of rationalism but expressions of the unconscious, or spiritual realities.
Considering the mythological figures of the Sun-God and his adversary, the Guardian of the Threshold, Egyptologists interpret these figures as embodying the eternal struggle between good and evil, light and darkness, and order and chaos. These myths served both religious and political purposes, maintaining societal order and legitimizing the power of kings through their divine association.
While this explanation appears coherent, it oversimplifies a more complex reality. Modern society similarly relies on myths to define how we achieve order and progress over chaos. The Sun-God is akin to scientific materialism and political democracy nowadays, while the Guardian of the Threshold represents the inherent chaotic nature of humans, understood in a social and biological context.
Modern thought, however, resists the notion that its rationalist views are symbolic representations of an ultimately symbolic reality. It rejects symbolism and instead attributes realism to its cognitive constructions.
Ancient societies, when creating myths, also attributed realism to their cognitive constructions. The difference lies in the framework of understanding: modern society focuses on material understanding and lacks the capacity to perceive realism through spiritual lenses, often taking a dismissive position. Conversely, if we could present modern views to an ancient Egyptian, they would likely show dissatisfaction and rejection, much like native cultures resisted colonization and scientific understanding rejects the spiritual notions.
❚❚ The Form of Good.
In the “Analogy of the Sun” in Plato’s writings, the physical sun is the source of light and life, allowing the eyes to perceive objects clearly through external senses. The Form of the Good, the spiritual sun in the intelligible realm, is analogous to the physical sun, being the source of all reality and truth, enabling knowledge and understanding. Just as the sun provides light to the eyes, the Form of the Good provides light to the soul, allowing it to know and comprehend the Forms or Ideas as immutable and perfect realities beyond the sensory world.
Plato’s “Allegory of the Cave” describes prisoners who have been chained inside a dark cave their entire lives. They are positioned so they can only see the wall in front of them, not the objects behind them. Behind the prisoners is a fire, and between the fire and the prisoners, there is a path where people carry objects. These objects cast shadows on the wall of the cave. The prisoners, never having seen the real objects, perceive the shadows as the only reality. One prisoner is freed and exposed to the world outside the cave. Initially, he is blinded by the sunlight and finds it difficult to accept the new reality. Gradually, he adjusts and sees the true forms of the objects, realizing that the shadows on the wall are mere reflections of the real objects. The freed prisoner returns to the cave to enlighten the others. However, they ridicule him and resist, preferring the familiar shadows to the uncomfortable truth of reality.
Considering the Sun-God Ra and the Guardian of the Threshold Apophis in ancient Egypt, they represent the eternal struggle between light and darkness according to a divine structure. The sun often served as the main deity and was represented in human form in the role of the king, who possessed a high state of knowledge and was spiritually enlightened. The king, as a Sun-God, represented the connection with the higher divine hierarchy according to a cosmic order and manifested a superior understanding of the cultural and spiritual values that society should aspire to and maintain, being idolized as a deity.
According to Egyptian mythology, Ra traverses the skies in a solar barque and descends into the underworld every night to battle the serpent Apophis, protecting the cosmic order and restoring its balance. Just as the sun rises in the east and travels across the sky during the day, it plunges into the darkness of the horizon at night, defining a cycle of death and rebirth.
If we try to understand this mythology in relation to our own experience, we can draw a parallel between the states of daytime and nighttime consciousness. We move from the conscious state during the day to dream states at night, establishing a symbolic parallel with the death of daytime consciousness and its rebirth when the sun returns to the horizon. In this way, man during the day is illuminated by the physical sun, and when he plunges into the nighttime darkness, just as the sun plunges into the underworld, it illuminates man’s spirit, bringing clarity during dreams. Analogous to Ra, who battles Apophis at night, man during the night faces the challenges of the spiritual world and encounters his own form of Guardian of the Threshold during dreams.
At sunrise, the sun returns after its battle to illuminate the world, allowing man to engage with the material aspects of existence. This period represents the dominion of reason and logic, maintaining order in the earthly realm through actions and decisions. At night, the spiritual sun illuminates the unconscious, allowing man to access hidden aspects of the spirit, offering insights and revelations that are brought back at sunrise.
It’s challenging for our culture to imagine how people lived in the distant past because we tend to focus on daily activities, often neglecting the importance of nighttime states of consciousness. We place significant emphasis on productivity and personal achievements, with little consideration for the spiritual dimensions that dreams offer. From sunset to the next day, nighttime activities are often seen as a time to release repressed feelings, escape daily pressures, and sleep in an unconscious state in a single block of sleep, which most people believe provides the necessary rest for the soul and body.
Not too long ago, before the industrial revolution, people followed a distinct sleep pattern called “biphasic sleep” or “segmented sleep.” Roger Ekirch, in his 2005 historical study “At Day’s Close: Night in Times Past,” based on sources such as diaries, literature, medical documents, and court records, shows the nighttime patterns before the industrial revolution. People slept for a few hours after dusk and woke up in the middle of the night for an hour or two, engaging in various activities like reading, praying, conversing, or even working, before returning to sleep until dawn.
This change, due to various factors of modern life, has led to a significant scarcity of experiences and a diminished appreciation for the aspects of human consciousness during nighttime states in recent centuries. Thus, modern man does not experience the faculty of clear and intuitive thought that nighttime states provide, and, coupled with this, the dream state itself is seen by most as an impediment to a peaceful night’s rest.
Going further back in time, sleep patterns were even more different, and nighttime activities were more aligned with the natural cycles of the sun, moon, and seasons. Many rituals and activities in ancient Egypt, for example, were related to the full moon. Thoth, the god of wisdom, the inventor of writing, and mediator of disputes among the gods, was worshiped during the full moon, symbolizing him as the measurer of time, affecting the seasons and regulating celestial events.
Dreams were considered means by which the gods directly communicated with people, conveying messages, warnings, and guidance. Often, people would sleep in temples or sacred spaces in a practice known as “incubation” to receive divine dreams, many of which were considered important and influenced events, promoting significant discoveries or political changes. The “Sphinx Stela” or “Dream Stela” of Thutmose IV, located between the paws of the Great Sphinx at Giza, is one of the most famous examples. According to the inscription, Thutmose, as a prince before becoming pharaoh, was resting in the shade at the base of the sphinx, and the god Horemakhet spoke to him, promising him the throne if he cleared the part of the sphinx buried in desert sand.
It is primarily during nighttime dream states that initiates in esotericism encounter experiences with messages that guide them on their path to illumination by the Sun-God, the Form of the Good. It is also in these states that the opposing force, the Guardian of the Threshold, is encountered, offering resistance to these experiences by exposing the flaws in thought and behavior that the initiate needs to overcome to find illumination.
Only by adopting different thoughts and actions can the initiate dissolve the barriers imposed by the Guardian. We understand this very well during our daytime activities, in which we need to overcome challenges that prevent us from achieving our goals and must elevate ourselves spiritually to do so. Similarly, this happens during dreams, where spiritual impediments must be overcome through changes in daytime behavior carried into nighttime states.
Living according to natural cycles and a certain way of thinking are fundamental to developing a more spiritually aligned life, which enables us to reclaim the richness of possibilities that dreams hold.
In a context different from the esoteric and mystical path, the notion of a certain way of thinking and behaving and its opposition are clearly seen in Nietzsche’s Übermensch, often translated as superman, and the Letzter Mensch, or last man, from his 1883 book “Thus Spoke Zarathustra.”
Nietzsche’s Übermensch is someone who creates their own values and purpose, affirming life and existence in a way that is free from conventional beliefs and social norms. This concept sets a framework for self-discovery and personal transcendence, where individuals strive to become the best versions of themselves. The Übermensch is contrasted with the “Letzter Mensch,” individuals who are complacent, seek only comfort, and are incapable of creating anything beyond themselves.
In its context, “Thus Spoke Zarathustra” directly references Zarathustra, the ancient Persian prophet from the 6th century B.C. and founder of Zoroastrianism, in which Mithra is considered a divine being. Zoroastrianism centers on Ahura Mazda, the supreme god of wisdom and light, and emphasizes the dualistic battle with Angra Mainyu or Ahriman, the god of destruction.
By having Zarathustra as the protagonist of his philosophical novel, Nietzsche draws various parallels and contrasts between his own ideas and traditional ones. The views of Zarathustra and Nietzsche emphasize the acceptance of life, creativity, the continuous pursuit of self-overcoming, and the necessity of breaking away from materialistic concerns. However, Zoroastrianism defines a cosmic struggle and a final resolution through divine intervention, while Nietzsche rejects the notion of transcendent morality and focuses his critique on overly simplistic views that neglect the dynamic aspects of life and human experience.
We can identify two forms of thought that distinguish two cultural branches but are based on the same principles of the Sun God and the Guardian of the Threshold. For Nietzsche, the Sun God represents the wisdom of the individual, given that existence lacks any inherent meaning beyond that which the individual assigns to it. The Guardian, in contrast, symbolizes nihilism, where the emptiness of existence and the absence of inherent meaning leave a person devoid of the strength to find their own purpose, thus keeping them subdued by complacency. This perspective points to a non-dualistic notion, where humans are, ultimately, the creators of good and evil through their own means, with “truth” being a linguistic and cultural construct shaped by different interests. Therefore, for Nietzsche, the declaration “God is dead” implies the decline of traditionalism and religious beliefs, leaving a void that humanity must confront and overcome.
In contrast, for Zarathustra and in the thought of Plato, the Sun-God represents divine wisdom, which gives life and meaning to humans, while the Guardian symbolizes spiritual nihilism. This form of nihilism, which holds that life lacks any intrinsic meaning, purpose, or value, is seen as a product of egotistical thinking devoid of a holistic view of the human condition and its relationship to the cosmos. For Zarathustra, the struggle between good and evil reflects the dualistic idea that humans can choose between ignorance and wisdom—truths that are beyond human capacity to define in one way or another.
In response to Nietzsche’s declaration, “God is dead,” Zarathustra would argue that, in the absence of God, humanity risks making an idol of itself, thereby highlighting the need for an ideal form by which to live in order to avoid existential emptiness and despair. Nietzsche’s ideal of the Übermensch, as a product of free will, demonstrates that individual interest must be in harmony with collective interest; otherwise, it falls into nihilism. The state of being an Übermensch is not as satisfying as the awareness of being in that state. This kind of knowledge of the Good, in which we know that we know what is Good, is presented to us intuitively and does not seem to be a result of free will in any way.
Returning to Plato’s “Analogy of the Sun,” the Form of the Good and the Übermensch align with Zoroastrianism, which aligns with Mithras and Christ. The essential difference lies in the idea of divinity—whether we should follow our own Form of the Good or if there exists a metaphysical Form of the Good. To truly open these concepts, we can use a different epistemological framework, such as Jung’s, in which the conception of the Self, as an archetype representing the totality of the human psyche and the integration of the conscious and unconscious, defines the completeness and the ultimate goal of psychological development.
Jung’s “psychological man” implies that the integration of the psyche reflects an intuitive thought preceding any psychological understanding in which human experience alone does not satisfy, and thus, it must be integrated to achieve satisfaction. In this sense of incompleteness or constant “psychological hunger,” egotistical actions and thoughts must be appeased to find balance in the natural world and human relationships, defined as the process of “individuation.” In attempting to integrate his psyche, man must confront his own “shadow,” which represents the repressed or unrecognized aspects of the personality.
Individuation, which also requires free will to find self-realization, does not necessarily demand nonconformity with traditionalism, social standards, and religious beliefs, as in Nietzsche’s thought. Moreover, it does not suffer from the same lack of clarity because it is based on self-regulatory egotistic ideas, as well as content from the unconscious, not limiting the ability to satiate “psychological hunger” to factors external to the psyche.
The Sun-God, the Form of the Good, or simply the Good must be understood as the presence of “satiated hunger” with the absence of egotistical forms that underpin such a state. Referring to the teachings of Hermes Trismegistus, Zarathustra, Christ, Buddha, and their understanding of the Divine, the state of individual satisfaction is not at all a result of self-realization but rather a direct intuitive experience. Analogously, when we satisfy our hunger for nutrition, we find satisfaction beyond our capacity to base it on cognitive thought. The physical body is satiated, and then we feel satisfied. So it is with the spirit that, in the presence of the Good, is satiated regardless of external matters to the spirit.
Essentially, our understanding of what the Form of the Good may be does not reside in external factors or individual mental or sentimental constructions, but it is subjective to each of us and yet common when seen in humanity as a whole. Using Jung’s terms, the Good originates in the collective unconscious and is learned by intuition.
Then only you will see it, when you cannot speak of it; for knowledge of it is deep silence, and suppression of all the senses. He who has apprehended the beauty of the Good can apprehend nothing else.
~ Hermes Trismegistus[xii].
The physical Sun-God illuminates humanity in its struggle in the natural world, giving life and leading us to think and impose our will on the world to satiate physical hunger achieved through external satisfaction. Meanwhile, the spiritual Sun-God illuminates our inner lives, guiding us to achieve the Good, in which the will imposed on the world is balanced and aligned with the totality of existence, thereby satiating us in spirit.
– Asclepius: Tell me then, what is Good?
– Hermes: The Good is the archetypal Light; and Mind and Truth[xiii] are, so to speak, rays emitted by that Light.
~ Hermes Trismegistus[xiv].
It is the Good that is the creative principle.
~ Hermes Trismegistus[xv].
❚❚ Outer and Inner Sciences.
Following the idea of a physical, exoteric sun and a spiritual, esoteric sun, we can consider the existence of two lines in human history. One is based on our everyday consciousness, intertwined with the exoteric aspects of life; the other is told from the esoteric perspective of those who navigate the realms of the unconscious or the spiritual. Thus, through our eyes, we can admire the external world of nature and the internal world of our thoughts, and we can assert that our experience is shaped by both. This is how the history of humanity is formed as well. The external aspects are experienced through the historical narrative that embraces materialist dialectics, while the internal aspects are formulated within the fields of esotericism and mysticism. Embracing both aspects of human history provides us with a better understanding of ourselves and our place in the cosmos.
In the same line of thought, we can speak of external, physical sciences, based on our sensory capacity to perceive the natural world, and internal, spiritual sciences, grasped through the inner senses of perception. When we observe aspects of the universe, we use instruments capable of generating data that can be absorbed by our external senses. Thus, we speak of a sensory reality and describe laws or patterns of behavior present in the natural world, which are apprehended in a waking state of consciousness characterized by full alertness and cognitive processing ability. During this state, we can perceive what is around the physical body, think clearly, process information, and engage in intentional behaviors. The waking state of consciousness involves active engagement with the environment and the ability to respond appropriately to stimuli, using higher cognitive functions such as reasoning, memory, and decision-making.
In most circles of modern psychology, the waking state is intrinsically linked to external experience, so that in altered states of consciousness, such as dreams and meditation, we may be awake to a lesser degree since external stimuli are not present. However, if the waking state of consciousness refers solely to external experiences, then, consequently, this waking state is not aware of the internal experiences and the unconscious that necessarily occur while external stimuli are being processed by the senses.
Indeed, if we are in a state different from wakefulness and are fully conscious while the physical body is asleep, maintaining higher cognitive functions, this is also a wakeful state, just as much as when external stimuli are present. Restricting wakefulness to one type of stimulus or another reduces our capacity for understanding and overvalues certain aspects of our perception, proving inadequate for a holistic comprehension of our experiences.
For the esoteric clairvoyant, the external sensory world must be dissipated when deeply immersing oneself in the experience of the astral body. Just as the instrumentation used in physical sciences generates data that can be absorbed through our external senses, the clairvoyant employs introspection and focus to free the astral body from its connection to physical stimuli and to use the inner faculties of perception.
We shall understand the difference between the two thought currents—the one proceeding from Zarathustra and the other from the ancient Indian teachings—when we consider that man can reach the spiritual world along two paths of approach. There are two ways by which we may raise the inner powers of the soul above their normal level so that we may pass from the world of the senses into the super-sensible world. One way is to penetrate deeply into our own souls, to immerse ourselves, as it were, in our inner being. The other way leads behind the veils spread around us by the physical world. Both ways lead into the super-sensible world. If in the intimate experiences of soul life we so deepen our feelings, ideas, and impulses that the powers of soul grow stronger and stronger, we can descend mystically into the “Self.” Passing through that part of our being which belongs to the physical world, we may indeed find our real spiritual essence—the imperishable essence that passes from incarnation to incarnation. When we pierce through the veil of the inner being with all the desires, passions and inner experiences of soul (which are only one part of us in so far as we live in a physical body) we then reach our eternal essence and enter a world of spirit. On the other hand, if we develop powers which not only perceive the physical world with its sounds, colours, sensations of warmth and cold—if we so strengthen our spiritual powers that they can penetrate behind the encircling veil of colour, sound, warmth, cold and other physical phenomena—then our strengthened spiritual forces will reach the super-sensible worlds, stretching before us into boundless distances, into infinity. The first way is that of the Mystic; the second the way of Spiritual Science. It was along one of these two ways that the great teachers attained to the revelations of truth which they had to inculcate into mankind as the basis of culture.
~Rudolf Steiner[xvi].
Take our perception of memories as an example. We can differentiate memories based on their temporal distance, such as recent memories and older ones. Similarly, consider the sense of smell; the closer the source of the scent, the stronger the smell. It is important to note that consciousness perceives things in terms of distance. To understand the process of observing phenomena in both physical and spiritual science, we must recognize that there are phenomena at short distances and long distances from our perception.
Imagine yourself sitting at a study desk with a window in front of you. Through this window, you can see the natural landscape with mountains in the distance, people passing by at a shorter distance, among many other events. Immediately within your closest field of perception are, for example, the desk, your notes, and your thoughts about what you are doing. However, when you look out the window, you might think about the landscape beyond the immediate field. You might wonder what lies beyond your vision, beyond the mountains. Obviously, we assume there is a world beyond the mountains, accessible to us, and if we want to discover what is there, it might be best to get up and take a walk. Of course, not everything we experience in the natural world can be reached solely by our own senses. Modern science is very competent at enhancing our external faculties, creating advanced instruments that capture more details about natural phenomena and describe a much more detailed physical reality. If we were restricted only to our senses and our capacity for perception, we would understand very little about this sensory world.
Sitting at the study desk, when we look inward, we first notice our thoughts, like when we wonder what lies beyond the mountains, and if we continue to investigate, we might find our emotional states and other concerns on the surface of our inner experience. Short-term memories will appear first, but distant memories require more concentration. The inner experience is a world with its own merit, but it is apprehended with senses different from those of the external experience. At this point, most people assume there is nothing beyond the immediate experiences grasped by the internal senses or that such senses are static and cannot be amplified, or, more commonly, they don’t think about it at all. If we apply the same line of thinking to the natural world, we can clearly see the inconsistency in our thinking. Thus, in our perception of the sensory world, we might assume there is nothing beyond the mountains simply because our external senses cannot reach them.
This is, indeed, a significant limitation of modern materialist thought, which fails to contemplate an inner world beyond what is in the proximity of our internal perception, including only our thoughts, memories, and dreams. Yet, there is talk of an external world that is theoretically limitless, in which we can expand our perception through external instrumentation and that we will eventually be able to overcome the barriers imposed by modern technology in the near future, thereby understanding more about our reality.
Most psychological understandings support the concept of a stratified psyche, with superficial and deeper layers, and it is often assumed that what resides in the unconscious is difficult, if not impossible, to recover, and that any effort to do so will ultimately reach a dead end. This assumption contradicts our own experience of the external world, where we know that the unknown is merely a temporary state, dependent on our efforts to overcome the current limits of perception. It is incorrect, then, to assume that internal phenomena, like external ones, exist in a state of impermeable unknown and, as a consequence, lack existence. The limitation lies in our perception, not in the phenomena themselves.
Plato’s Form of the Good is clearly not learned through our external senses. Nonetheless, many philosophers who study Plato criticize him for not defining what this Form truly is, as if it could be explained solely by rationality and conveyed in discourse or writing. Aristotle, for example, distinguished between more complex teachings, intended for his close disciples, as esoteric, and those simpler and accessible to the general public, as exoteric. The Form of the Good, also discussed in the works of Hermes Trismegistus in the “Corpus Hermeticum” and Plotinus in the “Enneads”, is explained in exoteric terms using analogies, experiences, and natural phenomena, but it understandably lacks the richness of direct experience of the Good in transcendent states of consciousness.
Similarly, we can speak of Nietzsche’s Übermensch as a notion about ourselves apprehended through thought. The same applies to Mithraism and Christianity, where experiences of the Sun-God are attained through esoteric means. While we use physical science and its instrumentation to understand the physical sun, we use meditation and states of sleep and transcendence as instruments to grasp internal realities. Both physical and spiritual sciences are inherently empirical, as knowledge is derived from the direct observation of phenomena. What does not exist in the esoteric field is a common vocabulary where clairvoyants can describe their experiences, leading to different interpretations and limiting the understanding of the general public. In physical sciences, much of the scientific effort goes into producing a common method and dialectic across various fields of knowledge, which fosters collaboration and significant scientific advancements.
The tangibility of the phenomena observed in physical sciences is often contrasted with the intangibility of spiritual sciences. This contrast exists primarily because most people do not develop the high levels of concentration and expanded states of consciousness necessary to explore dreams and transcendent states of consciousness. In physical sciences, the lack of direct awareness of natural phenomena can be mitigated by the use of instrumentation. However, in spiritual science, the responsibility for “instrumentation” falls on the individual and their ability to overcome low states of consciousness through dedication, discipline, detachment from material and emotional externals, as well as a deep curiosity and respect for the occult.
For most people, thoughts, feelings, and emotions are exclusively subjective, while trees and birds are objective. However, when we speak of a tree, we are effectively describing a cognitive construction of it, rather than the tree itself. Thus, we apprehend the subjective form of the tree, an internal tree, as a reduced form of its objective form, and only then can we speak about the tree. For a bird, its understanding and use of a tree are significantly different from human understanding and also reduced in relation to the objective tree. When we look at our internal experiences, there is objectivity beyond the subjective process. Feelings are objective regardless of cognitive constructions, being separated from our consciousness in the same way that a tree is an entity separated from our senses.
When we talk or think about our feelings, we personalize them, importing them into a subjective framework. In this way, we are unable to discern any phenomenon without adding our subjectivity, whether it is external or internal to our senses. Just as we use our external senses as sensors for external objects, we use our internal senses as sensors for internal objects. The tree apprehended through external vision is transformed into thought, just as feelings, which are external to our perception, are also apprehended as thoughts.
To develop clairvoyant ability, mental processes must acquire objective aspects in the same way that instrumentation produces objective measurements of natural phenomena. For example, when we experience sensations of love or fear, we usually attribute them to external factors. When we feel fear of wild animals, we must be aware that the fear is internal and not transmitted by the animal, which functions as a stimulus. The same situation occurs in our dreams, where we react with fear to a wild animal internally, without the actual presence of such an animal. In the external world, if we want to study a wild animal scientifically, we must eventually suspend our fear, even if only temporarily. Similarly, we can behave in dreams by developing the ability to confront emotions and feelings and transcend the psychological barrier that links stimuli to behavioral patterns. Thus, seeing a wild animal in a dream should not evoke fear, because the internal motivation is to transcend emotions.
Transcending personal attachments and their associated behavioral patterns can eventually trigger the manifestation of entities in altered states of consciousness, whether these states are natural or induced by psychoactive substances. This process defines the thresholds or spheres that separate different levels of advanced states of consciousness. Such entities are known as the Guardian of the Threshold in esotericism and initially prevent the astral body from crossing the threshold, as it is not yet spiritually prepared for a higher state of consciousness. This requires the detachment from behavioral patterns acquired by the physical body.
During the day, we encounter various situations where we are required to take a position of empathy or apathy. Most of the time, we do not realize that we are predisposed to one of these positions. When we wake up in a “bad mood,” we are typically in a state of apathy toward experiences unless they are comforting. When we have had a good night’s sleep and feel energized in the morning, we generally position ourselves empathetically toward new experiences. Expanded states of consciousness signify empathetic states, where new experiences are seen as positive, even if challenging, and we tend to engage without generating negative feelings, thoughts, or actions.
For example, when we encounter a friend who is uncomfortable with their life and work, we can either empathize with or be apathetic to the situation. We might choose to suspend judgment, empathize with the friend, and offer a broader perspective on the problem, aiming to help them out of emotional distress. Alternatively, we might begin a process of argumentation and justification about who is right or wrong, focusing on substantiating the problem. In the latter case, we display various states of empathy and antipathy, as we imagine ourselves in a similar situation of discomfort in our own lives, ultimately engaging in argumentation as we express our thoughts.
To achieve expanded states of consciousness, we must balance feeling, thinking, and acting empathetically so that our daily behavioral patterns are transmitted to our nocturnal states, influencing the content of our dreams and how we behave in them. With practice and discipline, we can expand our consciousness by learning to think appropriately, thereby freeing the astral body from patterns of feeling, thinking, and acting that are conditioned by physical stimuli.
Psychoactive substances such as MDMA, psilocybin, LSD, mescaline, ketamine, and tryptamines like DMT and 5-MeO-DMT induce empathetic states, expand consciousness, and often produce results that are not well understood, such as clairvoyance. Reprogramming the ways we feel, think, and act are methods that effectively produce changes in the physical body, which are then carried over to the astral body. Many religions and mystical practices of antiquity, such as Hinduism and Buddhism, contain in their esoteric teachings the methods by which an initiate restructures their ways of feeling, thinking, and acting to trigger the process of consciousness expansion, in which clairvoyance becomes possible.
❚ The Guardian of the Threshold.
Zanoni is a novel by Sir Edward Bulwer-Lytton[xvii], published in 1842, and it contains the earliest mention of the term “Dweller on the Threshold.” Categorized as a Rosicrucian novel, it blends elements of a Victorian thriller, a love story, classism, idealism, and esotericism. Set against the backdrop of the French Revolution, the narrative follows Zanoni, an immortal Rosicrucian originally from ancient Mesopotamia, endowed with occult powers and the secret of eternal life.
Zanoni faces the danger of losing his immortality when he falls in love with Viola Pisani, a young opera singer from Naples. The conflict between wisdom and love, spiritual and physical, culminates in Zanoni’s death by guillotine.
Structured in seven parts, the novel reaches a pivotal moment in its fourth section, titled “The Dweller on the Threshold,” where esoteric truths are unveiled. The “Dweller on the Threshold” or “Guardian of the Threshold” manifests as a presence when the seeker of spiritual enlightenment progresses along the path toward realms of esoteric knowledge. Initially, Zanoni encounters a “lesser” Guardian, represented by a spectral figure embodying the negative influences resulting from the thoughts and actions of one’s life experiences.
– Guardian: Thou hast entered the immeasurable region. I am the Dweller of the Threshold. What wouldst thou with me? Silent? thou fear me? Am I not thy beloved? Is it not for me that thou hast rendered up the delights of thy race? Wouldst thou be wise? Mine is the wisdom of the countless ages. Kiss me, my mortal lover.
– Zanoni: All else so dark, —shrouded, veiled and larva-like. But that burning glare so intense, so livid, yet so living, had in it something that was almost HUMAN in its passion of hate and mockery, —something that served to show that the shadowy Horror was not all a spirit, but partook of matter enough, at least, to make it more deadly and fearful an enemy to material forms,”
Later in the novel, Zanoni invokes the divine entity Adon-Ai in search of wisdom. From the luminous depths of a desolate cave, a radiant column emerges, announcing the ethereal presence of Adon-Ai. Zanoni confesses to Adon-Ai that his ability to summon celestial beings has weakened due to his deep love for Viola, which keeps him tethered to earthly emotions. Although Zanoni aspires to spiritually elevate Viola, Adon-Ai emphasizes the ephemeral nature of human life and the challenge of harmonizing souls of different affinities. Adon-Ai then suggests the idea of a third soul as a bridge between Zanoni and Viola, offering a potential solution to Zanoni’s internal conflict between the spiritual and physical worlds. Envisioning the conception of a child—a manifestation of both Zanoni and Viola—Adon-Ai illuminates the path to transcend mortal limits and guide their souls toward a unified destiny beyond the realm of mortality.
The novel also introduces other characters who share Zanoni’s pursuit of esoteric knowledge, each following their own distinct path. While Zanoni is torn between love and eternal life, eventually choosing love for Viola, Mejnour, Zanoni’s mentor, embodies the archetype of an ascetic sage, and Clarence Glyndon, an artist seeking the secrets of immortality, faces severe trials as he confronts the darker side of his ambitions.
Viola decides to leave her conventional life as a singer to be with Zanoni. She finds herself in danger during the French Revolution, where waves of violence affect those close to her. Driven by love and trust in Zanoni, Viola is willing to embrace the unknown and mysterious world of esoteric life. The loss of Zanoni to the guillotine and her subsequent struggle to raise their child symbolize the cycles of loss and renewal in life.
Mejnour can be compared to Buddhist and Christian monks, who, through the isolation from social relations and detachment from human emotions, dedicate themselves to an intellectual and mystical journey. He represents the ideal of pure reason and enlightenment, untroubled by the ups and downs associated with earthly attachments. Mejnour’s path is marked by isolation, with the understanding that human relationships can act as distractions on the esoteric path.
Glyndon is one who is seduced by the ideas of immortality and esotericism presented by Zanoni and Mejnour. An ambitious painter, Glyndon abandons a more stable life in pursuit of something greater. While Mejnour intentionally dedicates himself to an ascetic life and encounters fewer internal resistances regarding his attachments, Glyndon must work harder, as his egoistic aspirations and emotional attachments to his artistic achievements act as opposing forces to the esoteric path.
Driven by the ambition to reach higher levels of knowledge, Glyndon finds himself in a delicate mental state, as his ambition obscures his understanding of the implications of seeking esoteric knowledge. Consequently, Glyndon distances himself from family and friends to devote himself to esoteric studies, sacrificing everything that previously gave meaning to his life. Throughout the narrative, Glyndon recognizes the need for a more balanced life, having to compromise the excesses of a life rich in relationships, emotions, and personal achievements.
The novel Zanoni illustrates, through its four main characters, the complexities faced by different individuals who choose the esoteric path. Inevitably, these paths lead to situations of emotional turbulence, periods of doubt and weakness, and eventual overcoming of obstacles. Initially, those who seek inner paths tend to believe that this can be reconciled with their current life situation, assuming that detachment and significant changes are not so necessary. Just as we face exoteric aspects, where we accumulate knowledge and experiences, develop deeper human connections, and become more attached to individual feelings, one might assume that the esoteric path should follow the same pattern.
However, the novel shows that only through personal sacrifice is the esoteric quest possible. It also demonstrates that there are different levels of knowledge attainment, depending on how much each person is willing to detach from the mundane experiences of daily life.
The origins of Rosicrucianism are traced to three anonymous manifestos in Germany: the “Fama Fraternitatis” (1614), the “Confessio Fraternitatis” (1615), and “The Chymical Wedding of Christian Rosenkreutz” (1617), which introduce the legend of Christian Rosenkreutz. Born in 1378, Christian embarked on a pilgrimage through the Middle East, North Africa, and the mythical city of Damcar, where he studied with various mystical and alchemical masters. Upon returning to Europe, he sought to share the secret wisdom he had acquired and founded the Rosicrucian Brotherhood.
The Rosicrucian writer Max Heindel asserts that every aspirant on the esoteric path must confront the Dweller on the Threshold at the beginning of the journey, when a certain way of thinking and acting is reached. The Dweller represents unresolved karma from this life and past lives, as well as negative tendencies and internal conflicts that must be faced and transformed. By modifying one’s attitude towards life, it is possible to undo karma and spiritually approach the threshold between the sensory world and the esoteric realms.
With the founding of the Theosophical Society in 1875 by the Russian mystic Helena Petrovna Blavatsky, Zanoni gained more prominence. Blavatsky described the Dweller as the astral doubles of incarnations from past lives, which embody the karmas of those lives and serve as the abstract representation of each individual’s karmic balance. These entities symbolize the inner evil of each person and hinder spiritual advancement. Each Dweller represents an astral shell from a previous incarnation, which may have incarnated multiple times with the person’s Ego before becoming a malevolent influence when the person discards the behavioral patterns that built those shells. Blavatsky described Robert L. Stevenson’s story, “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde,” as an allegory of the Dweller, offering a representation of how internal experiences unfold when certain levels of spiritual growth are reached.
The “Mahatma Letters” mention that in September 1875, the medium Stainton Moses asked Madame Blavatsky if Bulwer-Lytton had eaten undercooked pork chops and was dreaming when he wrote about the Dweller. Blavatsky replied: “Prepare yourself. In about twelve months, you will have to face them and fight them.”
In October 1876, the predicted event occurred. Moses wrote: “I have been fighting a hand-to-hand battle with all the legions of the Devil for the last three weeks. My nights are horrible with their torments, temptations, and filthy suggestions. I see them around me, staring at me, chattering, howling, grinning maliciously! Every form of filthy suggestion, of disconcerting doubt, of chilling, insane fear is upon me... I can understand Zanoni’s Dweller now... I have not yet wavered... and their temptations are weaker, the presence less close, the horror less...”[xviii].
❚❚ Ahrimanic, Luciferic and Higher Forces.
Rudolf Steiner is perhaps the most prolific philosopher on the Guardian of the Threshold, both as a concept and as an entity within the human experience. The Anthroposophical Movement, founded in 1913, places a strong emphasis on intellectual and personal development through spiritual understanding. It operates on the premise that the human intellect is inherently connected with spiritual worlds, and people must develop the right sensibility to become aware of these realities.
While Anthroposophy encompasses spiritual dimensions, it does not subscribe to specific religious doctrines as most of the esoteric lineages do. Anthroposophy offers an approach to comprehending reality and human existence by neither disconnecting humans from the physical world of experiences nor separating the physical world from spiritual experiences.
For Steiner, the Guardian is a fundamental entity present in dreams and deep states of meditation, guiding initiates into the spiritual world of esoteric knowledge. Often depicted as an opposing force, and at other times as a guide, the Guardian leads the individual through a process of inner and outer growth and ultimately functions as a guide to cross the boundaries of spiritual realms.
These souls, having left behind their physical and etheric bodies between going to sleep and waking up, were often to be seen approaching the Guardian of the Threshold.
The Guardian of the Threshold has entered the awareness of human beings in many and various ways during the course of human evolution. Many a legend and many a saga—for this is the form in which the most important things are preserved, rather than that of historical records—many a legend and many a saga tells of the approach by one personality or another to the Guardian of the Threshold in order to receive instruction on how to enter the spiritual world and then return once more to the physical world.
[...]
Witnessing this scene, you become aware of a thought which is bound up particularly with what I would like to call the germination of a necessary great responsibility. The souls who thus approach the Guardian of the Threshold in a state of sleep demand entry into the spiritual world. They demand to be allowed to wander across the threshold in a state of sleep; their consciousness is that of a sleeping human being—which so far as the waking state is concerned remains unconscious or subconscious.
~ Rudolf Steiner[xix].
Steiner introduces the Guardian in his article “How Does One Attain Knowledge of Higher Worlds?”[xx] published in 1905. The Guardian signifies a transition from ordinary to higher consciousness, where the individual realizes partial liberation from karmic influences on their spiritual path. Destiny’s events, joyful or painful, stem from past actions, shaping the individual’s character and ultimately defining the characteristics of the Guardian.
The determination and faith of the initiate in their spiritual strength are essential for confronting the inner shadows presented by encounters with the Guardian. Success in these confrontations leads to deeper insights and spiritual growth, forming part of a continuous process of personality transformation through esoteric means. As the individual progresses, shedding overly empathetic or apathetic thoughts and feelings and finding inner balance in outer life, the Guardian becomes less intimidating, pushing the spiritual boundary toward higher spiritual realms.
Strictly speaking, there are two Guardians: a lesser and a greater. The student meets the lesser Guardian when the threads connecting willing, feeling, and thinking within the finer astral and etheric bodies begin to loosen, in the way described in the foregoing chapter. The greater Guardian is encountered when this sundering of the connections extends to the physical parts of the body, that is, at first to the brain. The lesser Guardian is a sovereign being. He does not come into existence, as far as the student is concerned, until the latter has reached the requisite stage of development.
[...]
For this reason, the lesser Guardian of the Threshold is joined, after a time, by the greater Guardian. The meeting with the second Guardian will again be described in narrative form.
[...]
The meeting with the Greater Guardian occurs when this loosening of the links further extends to the physical body (that is to say, the brain). The Lesser Guardian of the Threshold is an independent being. It did not exist before the individual had arrived at this particular point in his evolution.
~ Rudolf Steiner[xxi].
At this moment we know that the reason why this figure has such a shattering effect is that we are not, but ought to be, like it, and that we can acquire the right attitude only when we can endure this spectacle. To have this experience means to pass the ‘Greater Guardian of the Threshold.’ It is this Greater Guardian of the Threshold who effaces consciousness when we go to sleep in the ordinary way. He shows us what is lacking in us when we try to enter into the Macrocosm, and what we must make of ourselves in order to be able, little by little, to grow into that world.
~ Rudolf Steiner[xxii].
In two studies by Terje Sparby that systematically and phenomenologically explore Steiner’s conception of the Guardian[xxiii], drawing parallels with the condition of sleep paralysis and reports from practitioners of anthroposophical meditation, a significant observation is made:
The existing research on nightmares and sleep paralysis indicates that experiences corresponding to Steiner’s guardian-concept are prevalent, although they are interpreted in a wide variety of ways by different populations worldwide.
~ Terje Sparby[xxiv].
When a person’s soul is tested, for example in dream experiences, the Guardian can be understood in terms of two forces: the Ahrimanic and the Luciferic. These tests are designed to reveal whether the individual maintains unbalanced empathetic or apathetic relationships with external sensory stimuli, which hinders the possibility of crossing the spiritual threshold. The challenges presented by the Guardian are linked to light or strong habits developed through recent experiences in the world or even through forgotten experiences from the past. Max Heindel also explores this aspect, noting that the Guardian is connected to our compulsive behaviors.
For instance, today, due to external pressures for high performance at work, we may form relationships with substances like coffee, tobacco, or sleep aids, which initially help us maintain the status quo. However, the use of these substances reflects psychological needs for comfort in how we assess ourselves and our ability to overcome obstacles. Thus, when we believe we need to work more hours to complete a task and prove our capability, we may develop the unbalanced habit of relying on caffeine, to the point of creating a line of thought that justifies our excesses.
Sometimes these habits are mild, such as smoking a cigarette after lunch for pleasure or drinking a glass of wine at night to help with sleep. However, this demonstrates that we are not centered within ourselves but depend on external aids to balance our thoughts and feelings, establishing what Buddhists and Hindus refer to as worldly attachments.
Lucifer and Ahriman personify two significant archetypes, representing internal and external aspects of our relationships with experiences. Lucifer is connected to aspects of pride and individualism, leading to an inflated ego, rebellion against authority, and a focus on personal achievement at the expense of others. However, he also inspires artistic creativity, intuition, and imaginative thinking, granting access to mystical experiences and visions. Even so, an excessively Luciferic tendency can result in isolation, detachment from reality, and neglect of practical concerns.
The name Ahriman has its origins in ancient Iranian religion and Zoroastrianism, meaning destruction and chaos. Ahriman personifies the external aspects of experiences, such as darkness and materialism, including materialistic rationality, scientific reductionism, and a focus on the physical world. Ahriman instills fear, doubt, anxiety, skepticism, and a fixation on the limitations of the physical body. However, he also inspires technological advances and practical inventions. Excessive Ahrimanic tendencies can lead to a soulless materialism, a lack of empathy, and disregard for spiritual dimensions. Ahriman’s influence is evident in scientific and technological developments, materialistic worldviews, and the pursuit of external progress.
Involuntarily, often when we go to sleep, for example, we may fall into deep states that approach the boundary where the physical body disconnects from consciousness. At this moment, the body is in complete inactivity and does not respond to the will of the soul, which is also in a state of sleep. In this way, the Guardian prevents us from crossing the lower threshold between the physical state and the spiritual state. In modern terms, every time we go to sleep, the soul enters a state of “out-of-body experience,” but without the necessary awareness to navigate the spiritual realms, the soul is barred at the physical threshold by the Guardian.
The souls who thus approach the Guardian of the Threshold in a state of sleep demand entry into the spiritual world. They demand to be allowed to wander across the threshold in a state of sleep; their consciousness is that of a sleeping human being—which so far as the waking state is concerned remains unconscious or subconscious. And countless times the voice of the grave Guardian of the Threshold is heard: For your own good, you may not cross the threshold; you may not gain entrance to the spiritual world. Go back! For if the Guardian of the Threshold were to allow them to enter without more ado, they could come over into the spiritual world with all the concepts passed on to them by today’s schools, today’s education, today’s civilization; with all those concepts and ideas with which human beings have to grow up nowadays from their sixth year onwards right, you could say, until the end of their earthly lives.
~ Rudolf Steiner[xxv].
Steiner develops the phenomenology of the Guardian both in general terms, concerning things that can be seen and felt, and in philosophical terms, addressing objectivity and reality as experienced through the universal characteristics of consciousness.
This is the Great Guardian who prevents our entrance into the spiritual world so long as we are unripe. He prevents our entrance because if we have not made ourselves inwardly strong enough, we are exposed to certain dangers when we allow our ego to pour forth over the spiritual world into which we enter when we fall asleep. The danger consists in this, that instead of seeing what is in the spiritual world objectively, we only see what we take there through our own fanciful imaginations, through our thoughts, perceptions and feelings. In this case we take what is worst in us, what is not in accordance with truth. Hence an unripe entry into the spiritual world indicates that a man does not see reality but imaginary forms, fantastic images which are described technically in spiritual science as ‘non-human visions.’ If a man would see objectively in the spiritual world he must rise to a higher stage where ‘human’ things are seen. It is always a sign of a fantastic vision when animal forms are seen on rising to the spiritual world. Such animal forms represent the man’s own fantasy and are owing to his not being strongly enough established in himself. What is unconscious in us at night must be strengthened so that the surrounding spiritual world becomes objective, otherwise it is subjective, and we take our fantasies with us into the spiritual world. They are within us in any case; but the Guardian preserves us from seeing them. This rising into the spiritual world and being surrounded by animal forms which attack us and desire to lead us astray is a purely inward experience. We have only to encompass ourselves with greater inward strength, we can then enter the spiritual world.
~ Rudolf Steiner[xxvi].
We can visualize the Guardian’s behavior dynamically by looking at many ancient myths represented by Sun-Gods. Ra, from Egypt; Helios, from Greece; Surya, from Hinduism; and Sol, from Rome, among many others, travel across the skies in various vehicles, facing trials and receiving help throughout their journeys.
In Ra’s journey on the solar barque, various deities accompany and protect him. Ma’at, the goddess of truth and cosmic order, ensures harmony during the voyage, while Set, the god of chaos, defends Ra against the serpent Apophis, the personification of evil and chaos. Thoth, the god of wisdom, offers his knowledge, while Sia and Heka represent, respectively, perception and magic. Along with a crew of lesser-known deities and spirits, they navigate and protect the boat during its daily and nightly journey, symbolizing the eternal struggle between order and chaos and ensuring the continuity of the sun’s cycle.
In a modern version of this myth, imagine yourself catching a ride in a vehicle on the road as you begin the spiritual journey. The “Lesser Guardian” manifests with personality traits similar to those that must be left behind, as they have long prevented the start of the spiritual journey. Fears, anxieties, doubts, compulsions, and beliefs must be set aside to some extent before the spiritual journey can begin. Once you rise to the standards of the spiritual path by confronting the Lesser Guardian, you will be ready to move forward, and a vehicle will be waiting for you.
The spiritual journey will unfold as a narrative, like a long trip through the spiritual landscape, crossing lower and higher thresholds, each with its own Guardian of the Threshold. But before entering the vehicle, you will go through trials designed to prepare your soul for the journey.
Initially, you are only allowed to enter the vehicle and sit in the passenger seat. The “Greater Guardian” is the driver of this vehicle and must ensure that you remain awake to see what happens during the trip. He first awakens you once the threshold is crossed, by playing loud music or hitting bumps in the road to make you feel the vibrations and, finally, wake up. If you resist, the ride cannot continue. If you remain alert, you must face tests of detachment from your personality, demonstrating truth, balance, and courage to make wise decisions during the journey of spiritual ascent.
To ensure this, tests and challenges, in the form of Luciferic and Ahrimanic forces, are crafted in dreams, confronting thoughts and feelings that hinder spiritual growth. At certain moments in the journey, success in these challenges, which demonstrates a soul detached from worldly experiences, is rewarded with insights and progress toward higher thresholds.
Thus, the Lesser Guardian is an independent spiritual entity that embodies the spiritual nihilism and physical attachments already present within the individual, though not yet objectively manifested. The Greater Guardian, on the other hand, is a spiritual master, an angelic figure who helps us navigate through spiritual realms, offering guidance and wisdom. The Greater Guardian is an astral double spiritually connected to a real entity from the spiritual world, having access to higher thresholds and worlds, just as the Lesser Guardian is an astral double of the individual, incorporating the imbalanced thoughts and actions accumulated over multiple reincarnations, including the present one.
Initially, the Lesser Guardian resists us solely because we are not yet ready to embark on the spiritual journey. He acts as a mirror, reflecting the imbalanced thoughts and actions accumulated through our experiences. The Greater Guardian is a guide who helps strengthen our soul and spirit, allowing us to encounter higher experiences in the spiritual hierarchy.
Although we speak of two Guardians, one lesser and one greater, these are, in fact, categories of Guardians. The spiritual path as a whole is a labyrinth with successive levels that repeat in rounds. With each group of rounds on the spiritual path, a new degree of initiation is reached, and at each level, spiritual worlds are explored, divided by thresholds—one lower and one higher. Thus, recursively, like an ascending spiral, the initiate is placed on a journey through levels that become increasingly complex in terms of spiritual requirements and esoteric knowledge, which are revealed as the journey progresses.
The journey itself is undertaken by a spiritual vehicle that carries the soul and the guardians of each round, as exemplified by the myth of Ra and his barque with its protective deities. Ra, in his journey, is assisted by Guardians who initially functioned as gatekeepers to spiritual thresholds but, as Ra’s spiritual growth progressed, transformed into protectors who help him traverse the spiritual path, shielding him from difficulties understood as negative entities of the spiritual world.
❚❚ The Mystic Christ.
The novel Zanoni serves as a narrative on the esoteric life, relevant both today and before the book was published. Although Bulwer-Lytton’s writing is rooted in occultism and paganism, there are evident connections to Mithraism, Christianity, and Eastern philosophies. The emphasis on esotericism and the spiritual progression of characters—especially Zanoni, Mejnour, and Glyndon—reflects the hidden rites of initiation, where adepts underwent different stages of illumination and esoteric knowledge. This highlights the dualism of the struggle between light and darkness, the concept of death through sacrifice, and the renewal of life through rebirth, as well as the value of love.
Although from different origins, Geoffrey of Monmouth’s Arthurian legends, written around 1136, present a view of Christian mysticism concerning esoteric wisdom, where King Arthur embodies the virtues and spiritual ideals central to Christian mysticism.
While many schools of thought assert that King Arthur originates mainly from medieval romances and folklore, some scholars draw an intriguing historical parallel with Lucius Artorius Castus, a Roman military commander who lived in the 2nd century and led troops in the region of Britannia. Besides the similarity between the name “Artorius” and “Arthur”, it is suggested that the legendary King Arthur could be a mythologized version of Lucius, as many of Arthur’s battles coincide with historical events from his life[xxvii],[xxviii]. Given the time period, an interesting repercussion of these similarities is that Mithraism and Roman religions, particularly those with solar deities, were very popular among the Roman army until the 4th century. This implies that Arthurian legends may have roots in even older understandings of occult traditions.
In examining the legends of King Arthur, we encounter the same theme of trials and tests in the quest for spiritual enlightenment, much like in Zanoni. The quest for the Holy Grail represents spiritual fulfillment attained through communion with Christ. The Knights of the Round Table embark on a journey filled with challenges meant to elevate their spiritual condition and lead them toward divine experience.
The Code of Chivalry serves as the moral and honorable framework that helps Arthur and the knights maintain direction and the high standards necessary to overcome the egocentric traps presented during the quest for the Grail. This code includes values such as honor and virtue, loyalty and devotion, courage and sacrifice, justice and the protection of the weak, faith and spirituality, functioning similarly to Plato’s Form of the Good.
The journey begins with a vision during a banquet at the Round Table, where the knights witness the Grail veiled and illuminated, symbolizing a partial revelation of the divine experience. This vision invites them to embark on a quest toward communion with Christ through the attainment of the sacred relic and the complete revelation of Christ’s divinity.
Sir Galahad, Sir Gawain, Sir Percival, and Sir Bors abandon their lives of comfort and personal pursuits to dedicate themselves to the spiritual quest. Sir Lancelot, though one of the bravest and most skilled knights, faces emotional attachments and moral conflict due to his love for Guinevere, the wife of King Arthur. Sir Percival begins his journey with a limited understanding of his faith, which is strengthened through his mystical experiences and encounters. Sir Bors, for instance, confronts situations where he must choose between his duty to the code and his personal loyalties, always opting to protect the weak and act with justice, even at the expense of his own interests. Meanwhile, Sir Gawain is known for his bravery in facing dangers and trials, and Sir Galahad for his spiritual purity and sacrifice.
Sir Galahad, the knight with the ascetic inclinations of a sage, devotes himself to meditation and inner divine guidance, while Percival seeks advice from old hermits who provide him with instructions on how to achieve the purity necessary to aspire to the Grail. The Lesser Guardian of the Threshold represents the need for spiritual alignment among the various knights before their quest for the Grail can begin. Sir Gawain, for instance, faces numerous temptations and challenges designed to test his courage and virtue. Sir Bors encounters moral dilemmas, such as choosing between saving his lady or his brother, highlighting the necessity of justice and honor.
The Greater Guardian of the Threshold is Merlin, who, as Arthur’s advisor, represents the voice of wisdom and a guardian of spiritual knowledge. He guides the knights on their journey, introducing them to the need for spiritual purification before confronting the negative forces within themselves. With his clairvoyance, Merlin reveals, for example, that Sir Galahad’s purity will ultimately lead him to find the Grail.
It is clear to see the relationship between Zanoni and the Arthurian legends. Zanoni is set around 1800, in the context of post-Napoleonic Europe and the aftermath of the French Revolution, while the Arthurian legends date back to the 1100s, dealing with conflicts of royalty and the quests of the Knights Templar. Both narratives explore themes of spirituality and the trials the heroes undergo in their respective quests for enlightenment.
From a spiritual perspective, the specific issues of Rosicrucianism and Christianity in these two works become secondary, as the spiritual quest is not confined by belief systems, but by a self-sustaining journey based on a code akin to Plato’s Form of the Good. This code is outlined through esoteric virtues in Zanoni and the chivalric code in the Arthurian legends.
This ethical and moral code is defined intuitively, guiding the characters toward higher spiritual values. These values are not exclusively Christian or tied to any one belief system; rather, they have been present in religions and philosophies since antiquity and are understood in our times as “ethical principles,” typically encompassing fundamental concepts like respect, justice, responsibility, and integrity.
Spiritual growth in both narratives is achieved through the guidance of a spiritual being who mediates between higher realms of knowledge. In Zanoni, this is represented by Adon-Ai, and in the Arthurian legends, by Merlin. These entities complete the trinity of the spiritual quest: body, soul, and spirit.
Thus, the physical aspect is embodied by the protagonists and other characters. The higher state of spirit is portrayed as spiritual enlightenment, immortality, esoteric knowledge, and communion with Christ. In Zanoni, this is symbolized by the illuminated column that appears in the desolate cave when Zanoni meets Adon-Ai; in Arthur’s legend, it is represented by the Holy Grail. The soul’s aspect defines the moral code, the elevated conscience that motivates the characters on their respective journeys.
The mediator between the physical and spiritual realms is personified by Adon-Ai and Merlin, representing the great Guardian of the Threshold. They function as guides between the human world and the spirit world, imparting knowledge and insights, and directing the course of the journey, ultimately leading the protagonists toward spiritual fulfillment.
The ancient Greek philosopher Socrates often spoke of a daimon, which represents the great Guardian of the Threshold, as an internal voice he heard. This daimon, distinct from the later religious concept of demons, was described by Socrates as a divine or spiritual presence that communicated with him. Socrates attributed his decision to avoid political involvement to the advice of his daimon, believing it helped him maintain his moral integrity.
We can continue to explore the recurring theme of transformation through challenges to achieve divine enlightenment among Christian mystics. A well-known term, “Dark Night of the Soul,” originating from the Spanish mystic and poet St. John of the Cross (1542–1591), refers to a period of intense inner challenges, transformation, and spiritual awakening. It is generally associated with confronting the darker aspects of oneself, facing deeply rooted fears and insecurities. St. John of the Cross’s writings are deeply grounded in theology and biblical scripture, describing the experience of transcending anything that can be intellectually known by the mind, all thoughts, and all mental content. In his teachings, he outlines the process of spiritual growth, which includes the initial state of a person undergoing change, the means of growth, the successive stages through which this growth is achieved, and the ultimate goal of the developmental process.
If we look at the temptations of Christ in the desert, chronicled in the Gospels of Matthew, Mark, and Luke, we clearly find a situation related to Ahrimanic and Luciferic forces and divine intervention mediated by the Guardian of the Threshold. After his baptism by John the Baptist, Jesus began a 40-day fast in the Judean desert, guided by the Holy Spirit. During this time, Satan approached Jesus, tempting him on three occasions. The temptations included turning stones into bread, throwing himself from the pinnacle of the temple expecting to be rescued by angels, and worshipping Satan in exchange for the kingdoms of the world. In response, Christ reaffirmed his commitment to God, citing scripture: “Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God” and “You shall not put the Lord your God to the test.”
Although Zanoni and the Arthurian legends are works of literary fiction, they illustrate the complexities encountered on the spiritual path and the psychological trials that initiates in the esoteric tradition face. Similarly, the Bible and the great myths of the past reflect the same themes through numerous encounters. The Bible, written both in mythological and narrative form, primarily reconstructs the spiritual history of Judaism and the evolution of human consciousness in alignment with the spiritual lineage of the Son of God, from the first man in Genesis to Jesus Christ.
The story of Christ depicts the man born as Jesus of Nazareth, son of Mary and Joseph, in biological terms. However, spiritually, Jesus becomes the next in the spiritual lineage of David, which traces back to the origin of man in Adam. After his baptism by John the Baptist at the age of 30, the soul of Jesus of Nazareth is transformed as he attains enlightenment under the guidance of the Holy Spirit. The Star of Bethlehem, which appeared at the birth of Jesus and guided the Magi, is later referred to as the Holy Spirit in the narrative, indicating that Jesus of Nazareth is spiritually reborn, as prophesied in the Old Testament. The baptism of Jesus marks the moment his personality is transformed, becoming the soul in the lineage of Adam, signifying a return to his spiritual origin.
The return to the state of the soul before original sin, or the return to the Garden of Eden in Christianity, is indeed analogous to Plato’s Allegory of the Sun and the Form of the Good, or the concept of the Good and the Return to the One in Neoplatonism. It also aligns with the attributes of the Sun God later associated with Christ when Christianity became an institutionalized religion. In biblical terms, the Form of the Good is represented by the first man, Adam, the pure and untouched soul before the encounter with the fruit of the tree of knowledge. This is the state of the soul without conceptions of good and evil, as shown in Genesis 3:22-24.
And the Lord God said, “The man has now become like one of us, knowing good and evil. He must not be allowed to reach out his hand and take also from the tree of life and eat, and live forever.” So the Lord God banished him from the Garden of Eden to work the ground from which he had been taken. After he drove the man out, he placed on the east side of the Garden of Eden cherubim and a flaming sword flashing back and forth to guard the way to the tree of life.
~ Genesis 3:22-24.
In this sense, the biblical Adam symbolizes a soul in its purest, unblemished form—free from dualistic notions of morality. The Fall, represented by Adam’s and Eve’s consumption of the forbidden fruit, introduces the awareness of good and evil, which distances humanity from this original purity. Thus, the spiritual journey described in Christian theology, particularly through Christ, mirrors the philosophical idea of returning to an original state of unity and purity, free from the dualities imposed by knowledge and experience. This return to unity with the divine can also be viewed as an ascension to a higher understanding of the Good, as described in both Platonic and Neoplatonic thought.
❚ Walk Away Free.
In the text “On the Cave of the Nymphs in the Odyssey”, the Neoplatonist philosopher Porphyry interprets a passage from Homer’s Odyssey, in which a cave in Ithaca, dedicated to the nymphs, is described as an allegory for the soul’s spiritual journey and a symbolic representation of esoteric experiences. This perspective places Homer’s narrative in a deeper philosophical context, where elements of the myth are seen as metaphors for spiritual truths and the cosmos. Mythological stories are an artistic way of representing the ideas of a particular era, much like how modernity expresses its experiences through drama, cinema, and literature.
We can say that the mythological style is comparable to styles of painting, where, instead of using colors to depict the landscape, language is used to describe a narrative. This narrative is neither a reflection of fantastical external experiences nor the imaginative inventions of a writer. This idea is further elaborated in Steiner’s work.
We will now ask this question:—Whence came those ancient standards of human conduct which have been passed on by peoples spread throughout the world during the course of man’s evolution; and those flashes of spiritual enlightenment proclaiming his Godlike origin and the eternity of the soul? The answer comes through Spiritual Science; from it we learn that this olden wisdom originated with those who had themselves undergone initiation after the manner we have outlined. There is a reflection of these primeval moral precedents, manifested in strange and curious fashion, in connection with Myths and Legends and various graphic portrayals of the past; for in these very fables we find depicted many of the same experiences which came, as if in a living dream, to the initiates in the Mystery-Sanctuaries. Indeed, we first begin to understand Mythology rightly, when we regard the forms and figures there presented, as pictorial representations of things which appeared to the spiritual vision of the Initiates during the time of their participation in the secret rites. If we would establish a relation between the mythological conceptions of olden times and the religious teachings of an earlier age, we must hark back to the ancient mysteries and ponder upon all that lay concealed therein, deep hidden from a profane external world.
~ Rudolf Steiner[xxix].
Zanoni and the Arthurian adventures demonstrate the narrative that the soul undergoes during the process of deep transformation and rebirth, adopting an artistic aspect of the past according to different cultural elements of the time. Just as most people’s dreams artistically represent memories of daily events, implying significance for personal matters, the dreams of initiates take on an artistic representation built from distant memories of a past filled with modern symbolism.
The narrative, the script of the esoteric path, although often linked to mythological stories due to our own historical heritage, has a common goal that transcends time and culture. When an individual crosses the spiritual threshold, the soul begins a process of returning to its spiritual lineage. For this to happen, it must be guided through a process of death, purification, and rebirth, which ultimately results in a transformation of the personality. In a Jungian sense, we can say that the integration of the psyche, which occurs through the process of individuation, involves a symbolic death of the personality so that a new personality can emerge. Just as the content excluded by consciousness sinks into the unconscious, these memories resurface in the form of dreams and visions, entering the conscious mind. The resolution of this process transforms the individual’s personality.
Although Jung assigns metaphysical concepts to the human mind, his process of individuation separates it from divinity, just as Nietzsche detaches his philosophical understanding of the Übermensch from any deity. Works like Campbell’s model for understanding myths clearly demonstrate the similarities between myths but treat them as products solely of the imagination, akin to Jung’s concept of the archetypal workings within the psyche.
These approaches focus on individual psychology, rather than seeing the human psyche as a collective phenomenon that is subjectively experienced by each of us, adding an individual aspect to it. This is similar to how we discuss our natural world, which is experienced collectively yet perceived individually by each person. Conceiving of a reality that is essentially the result of a collective effort but of a consciousness that is isolated from that reality, as solitary units, contradicts our initial premise.
When we look at the story of Christ, there are several lines of discussion. One approach is to see the Bible as a mythological narrative about Jesus Christ, Judaism, and the creation of the cosmos. Others prefer to interpret this story as a spiritual message, focusing on the lessons that help us live a more balanced life. There are also those who seek to extract the social and political context of the time, offering a scientific historical narrative, while others aim to understand its astrological and esoteric significance. However, the issue is not which of these perspectives is correct, as if one invalidates the others, but rather how we can analyze the Bible’s narrative in its entirety, considering the social, political, and spiritual contexts. In one way or another, these different views are all valid, as each addresses the truth from a specific way of explaining the events.
If we take the narrative of Christ as told in the Bible, it assumes a particular aspect. Contemporary historiography tends to view the Bible from a sociopolitical perspective, reflecting the mindset of modern man. However, if we consider the mindset of Jesus Christ in his time, the Bible is a revelation of spiritual truths. The position of works like those of Porphyry and Neoplatonism, when examining ancient mythology and especially the narratives about Christ, is that these representations are the products of spiritual experiences told in a dramatized form. This perspective is relevant and necessary if we are to understand our history and our souls.
The spiritual truths of Christ are often described in an artistic manner because they were written after his death by people with esoteric and clairvoyant capacities, who had been initiated into a path similar to the one Christ had walked. Many people like to think that the Bible was constructed from stories passed down orally, like folklore, similar to a game of “telephone,” where the message spreads among the population until it is finally written down, often modified or distorted in the process. However, the Bible is essentially an esoteric document, where spiritual truths are repeatedly demonstrated.
When we revisit the story of Julian the Apostate and his stance toward Christianity, we can better understand it through the lens of Neoplatonism. Julian, initiated into the mysteries of Mithraism and aware of the esoteric path of Christ’s mysteries, found himself in a situation where the knowledge of the soul’s transformation through death and rebirth into a new personality lay among the ruins of the ancient world.
Dating from around 70 years before Julian’s death, works by Porphyry, such as “Against the Christians”, were destroyed by Christian authorities, specifically under the direction of Emperor Constantine, a policy continued by his son Constantius II. Porphyry’s works, along with temples and vast amounts of Mithraic art spread from Rome to England and Egypt, were seen as a threat to the developing Christian orthodoxy and the consolidation of Christian power in the Roman Empire.
Approximately 1,500 years later, in the 19th century, the English scholar Thomas Taylor worked to recover and preserve the remnants of Porphyry’s writings. Taylor’s translations and interpretations sought to reintroduce Neoplatonic ideas and Porphyry’s critiques, contributing to a renewed interest in classical philosophy during that time. Contemporary historians, like Catherine Nixey[xxx], have also made significant contributions to demystifying the notion that early Christians were meek and peaceful; in fact, they were often violent, relentless, and fundamentally intolerant. Unlike the polytheistic world Julian defended, the Western world became deeply rooted in a single religious narrative, shaping its social, political, and cultural structure.
Since the 19th century, we have witnessed a spiritual movement in which the classical values presented by Neoplatonism are in the process of being recovered. This can be seen both in the work of historians and in the esoteric works of figures like Blavatsky and Steiner.
From the early 20th century, we have also seen the expansion of other religious currents based on Theosophical and Anthroposophical ideas, creating different esoteric philosophies that revive Christianity as a revelation of mystery. Our period in human history can be understood as the second phase of the fall of the Roman Empire. The lingering ideas of that time, along with the religious distortions accumulated over nearly 1,800 years, are in the process of being clarified.
To acquire the ancient esoteric form of knowledge, the soul’s clairvoyance, we must overcome the emotional threshold of the personality in the form of the ego. The process of reaching such a state of consciousness may seem impossible to many or, at best, achievable only by a select few. However, changes in personality are possible for all, and these changes can become so significant that they open the possibility of altering the quality of dream states and revealing spiritual truths.
For the skeptical mind or the spiritual nihilist who dismisses such themes, adopting a scientific approach and engaging in empirical experimentation is essential if truth is to be found. This involves seeking internal experiences that may lead to the opening of the emotional threshold of the psyche. To assume that a psyche spending its time struggling with unresolved emotions will eventually achieve completeness is a modern delusion. The mind’s need to resolve its dissatisfactions should serve as motivation to move away from this condition, rather than as an insurmountable barrier or a force we must surrender to, seeking answers that stray from self-knowledge.
The empirical path toward esoteric knowledge, through spiritual science, involves confronting emotional imbalances and integrating the personality, transforming the ego to detach from worldly anxieties and understandings limited by materialist thinking. These are requirements, not options. Therefore, the skeptical mind must abandon nihilism, as it is formed by negative belief and apathetic behavior toward external ideas. The proper path, the “Middle Way,” for modern society is to learn how to suspend judgment in order to develop the possibility of direct understanding, rather than being conditioned by preconceived thoughts acquired from living in a specific culture. The mind must become as free from notions as that of a child, not due to its naiveté, but because of its purity, so that the original human essence can be experienced through the esoteric path.
[i] Campbell, Joseph. 1949. The Hero with a Thousand Faces. New World Library.
[ii] Whitehead, Alfred North. 1929. Process and Reality. The Macmillan Company.
[iii] Foucault, Michel. 1972. The Archaeology of Knowledge. Pantheon Books.
[iv] Vogler, Christopher. 2007. The Writer’s Journey: Mythic Structure for Writers. Michael Wiese Productions.
[v] Jung, Carl Gustav. 1969. Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious. Routledge.
[vi] Whitehead, Alfred North. 1929. Process and Reality. The Macmillan Company.
[vii] Hobbes, Thomas. Leviathan. Edited by Richard Tuck. Revised student edition. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996.
[viii] Nixey, Catherine. The Darkening Age: The Christian Destruction of the Classical World. Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2018.
[ix] Vermaseren, Maarten J. Mithras, the Secret God. London: Chatto & Windus, 1963. – arvhive.org.
[x] Vermaseren, Maarten J. Mithras, the Secret God. London: Chatto & Windus, 1963. – arvhive.org.
[xi] GA208: Cosmosophy II (Lecture IX). – rsarchives.org.
[xii] Corpus Hermeticum – Libellus X.6.
[xiii] or Reality.
[xiv] Corpus Hermeticum – Libellus II.12b.
[xv] Corpus Hermeticum – Libellus X.3.
[xvi] GA60: Turning Points Spiritual History (I. Zarathustra) – rsarchives.org.
[xvii] Bulwer-Lytton, Edward. Zanoni. London: Saunders and Otley, 1842. – gutemberg.org.
[xviii] A. P. Sinnett, ed., The Mahatma Letters to A. P. Sinnett from the Mahatmas M. & K.H. (Adyar: Theosophical Publishing House, 1923), Letter no. 9. – theosociety.org.
[xix] GA260: The Christmas Conference (Part II. The Proceedings of the Conference – rsarchives.org.
XX. On the Right Entry into the Spiritual World: The Responsibility Incumbent on Us). – rsarchives.org.
[xx] Rudolf Steiner, Wie erlangt man Erkenntnisse der höheren Welten? – anthroposophie.byu.edu.
[xxi] GA10: How to Know Higher Worlds. – rsarchives.org.
[xxii] GA119: Macrocosm and Microcosm. (7. The Four Spheres of the Higher Worlds). – rsarchives.org.
[xxiii] Sparby, Terje. 2003. The Guardian of the Threshold. Part I: Conceptual Overview and Complexities. - academia.edu.
[xxiv] Sparby, Terje. 2003. Rudolf Steiner and The Guardian of the Threshold. Part II: Experiential Perspectives. - academia.edu.
[xxv] GA260: The Christmas Conference (Part II. The Proceedings of the Conference – rsarchives.org.
[xxvi] GA124: Excurses on the Gospel of Mark, Part III. Excursus, Lecture III – rsarchives.org.
[xxvii] Linda A. Malcor, Aliso Viejo. 1999. Lucius Artorius Castus - Part 1: An Officer and an Equestrian – heroicage.org.
[xxviii] Linda A. Malcor, Aliso Viejo. 1999. Lucius Artorius Castus - Part 2: The Battles in Britain. – heroicage.org.
[xxix] GA61: Turning Points Spiritual History, V. Elijah – rsarchives.org.
[xxx] Nixey, Catherine. The Darkening Age: The Christian Destruction of the Classical World. Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2018.