Category Archives: Rosicrucianism

Form or Void? It Depends…


When the historic Buddha died, he left behind two bodies, the Form Body and the Dharma Body. The former was his physical vehicle and, by extension, included those material objects closely connected to it, such as his robe or begging bowl. For his surviving followers, these items were regarded as a vital link to the Enlightened One and became objects of veneration.

The Dharma Body, on the other hand, was far less material. This Body was comprised of the teachings of the Buddha. However, the idea that the Dharma Body was merely a collection of Sutras misses the point. The Sutras are an expression of the Enlightenment of the Buddha and, therefore, the Dharma Body is that very Enlightenment Itself.

Because this is the case, veneration of objects or the so-called “Form Body” may seem a bit absurd. After all, the Enlightenment of the Buddha has declared that Form is Void.

However, that same Enlightenment also declared that Void is Form. Yet if this true, we may ask if some Forms are more Void than others. And then we might as well just sit down and take the brass knuckles of the Buddha’s Fist square in the jaw. It’s ALL Void, from the scrap of loincloth supposedly worn beneath the Bodhi Tree to the Chicken Nuggets handed out through a drive-through window in a bag made from 90% recycled paper.

I find it quite ironic that Zen Patriarch Hui Neng communicated all of this so clearly and yet his followers mummified his body to worship!

If you cannot understand your own flesh and blood as the Form Body of the Buddha, you will never touch the Form Body…which is also the Void Body….which is No Body, at all.

The Lifespan Chapter of the Lotus Sutra lays out the situation. The historic Buddha (Shakyamuni, Guatama, Siddartha etc), was not THE Buddha but simply a Spacetime Manifestation of the Thus Come One who has endured from countless ages past. When the Thus Come One reveals his Lifespan in the Lotus Sutra, we understand “Buddha” to mean something much more than a historical personage. “The Buddha” is the True Entity of Life Itself which must be present in All Life. As the T’ien T’ai school teaches the Oneness of Life and its Environment (and Environment also encompasses the subjectivity of perception), we seek in vain for a Realization of the Buddha outside ourselves.

This simplicity, however, seems to be too much for most people and, as a result, we find humans venerating other humans as somehow superior to themselves. True Teachers attempt to guide the hungering souls around them into this Wisdom but it’s all but impossible. I cannot tell you how many times I’ve heard human parrots talking about how “Swami X wants us to think for ourselves.”

Of course, Swami X would be put out of business and have to resort to the begging bowl if his followers ever did just this. You can’t have an Ashram full of Gurus.

Hence, the Invisibles, the “Trashman Grand Master” ala Hesse’s Journey to the East, The Rosicrucians (who aren’t wont to advertise themselves). You can’t find them out and they won’t be replying to your Facebook comments.

There is only one way to make contact and that is by becoming one of them. Yet almost all “Aspirants” seem to think that contacting them is essential to becoming them. I knew a fellow who drove all over the West Coast looking for a Guru. Apparently, it was the place to find one. Decades passed and the guy is still as lost as ever. Of course, Swami X will just rephrase Tolkien’s “Not all who wander are lost,” pass the collection plate and keep the game going.

Guruyoga is a very subtle art. Once skill is therein achieved, an outside observer wouldn’t be able to identify Guru or Chela.

I know of one young man who entered fully into this field. There was no speaking to him of his Teacher, his Guru. There was only speaking-and speaking from the heart. If this sounds like a warm and fuzzy interchange, you’d be sadly mistaken. The Fire of Spirit Illumines the Way, it is true. It also burns down all that is not Itself.

The Dharma Body is what gives the Form Body its FORM.

Without this Knowing, the loincloth of the Buddha is just another pair of dirty Depends.

None shall be barred


No one is barred from this Work and all that is necessary will appear, as if by magic, should the Numisgnostic apply the same “calling card” to the Building of the Temple as he or she did to the Finding of the Cornerstone. The Rosicrucians of Old placed no financial burden upon those who would join them-or those they would heal. Numisgnosis is the same. You may spend as much as you’d like on the Path-but none shall be excluded for want.

This being said, there are particular items which will be found essential to the Work at this stage-and the magic, by which the Cornerstone was revealed, will open the Way to obtaining all which is necessary to progress.

The First Mission of the Corrosion Corp is followed by Missions 2 and 3 whereby the Numisgnostic will establish a Power Zone to Link In (Lincoln) to the Corrosion Cathedral.

From within this Power Zone, one learns how to Conceal and Carry.

This is Practical Shamanism and will be proven in the most raw and real fields of experience.

-Hoodoo Pilot




WHO is Walter Mitty?

This question was first asked of me in a high school textbook where we read Thurber’s classic tale.

Is he a Victor over his humdrum life through the power of Imagination-or a wretched sap whose daydreams are always bound to be brought back to ground by a browbeating wife?

Since this is Thurber we’re talking about, we really DO have to go with the latter option.

Never the less, this short story always stayed with me and after college, I began my own Walter Mitty tale. It picked up where Thurber left off. Mitty died, a loser, and his wife prattled on about this and that at the funeral. It was as dull an event as the outer life he lived as guests mulled about, fumbled for sympathetic words and his widow kept talking about whether or not he’d look better in a different suit.

Meanwhile, Mitty had entered the Bardos and the welcoming committee was a giant Crab-Demon at the Gates of Hell. I may have been thinking of the Crab-Aliens Burroughs had written about in his Cutups-or the Egyptian Demons he described in “The Western Lands” (I’d been reading a bit of Burroughs at the time). Either way, the idea was pretty basic. Mitty is dead and now malevolent monstrosities were about to recycle his sorry ass. And what easier pickings could one ask for? Here comes the spineless one, the man who could never stick up for himself on earth, he who never enlisted let alone flew a plane into enemy territory for a smashing victory.

And at this moment, the REAL Walter Mitty stands up, a Soul who spent his human life secretly honing his battle skills, ready to move when every other person he knew would be destined for a metaphysical meat grinder.

A sword appears in Walter’s hand and he rushes the creature, slashing shimmering shell into shards and lopping off both stalked eyes with a single swing.

Behind the crumpled bits of beast, howlings rise and ripple from a stone stairwell spiraling God (or Satan) knows where.

“Bring it on,” says Mitty, now resembling Clint Eastwood. “Otherwise I will.”


I don’t think I ever finished the story but perhaps I had brought it where I needed it to go. Thurber’s humor aside, we DO live in several worlds at once. And we also DIE. What we carry with us is a form which will continue to erode and dissolve. Eventually, the Mind Itself goes and what can possibly carry the Being through at THAT point?

The Body of Habits-which is deeper than the mind.

We’ve got this life to work on the Body of Habits and then it’s the Shuttlebus. Ready or not, we’re burning up, the Etheric Body sizzling and popping away from the Astral. The Astral being blasted apart like tissue in a Thunderstorm.

Perhaps the Center of Mitty’s Bardo would be the Projection of his Wife, her sharp and overbearing voice demanding that he put away the groceries after he’s chopped every tentacle off of Cthulhu.

Yes, I think a great way to end the tale is with Mitty loading cans of green beans and peas into a cupboard-and then stopping. He turns toward his wife with a jar of pickled beets in his right hand and then HURLS THEM AT HER as a sardonic smile tightens across his face. She explodes into a Field of Light billowing into the Luminous Void and Mitty walks on through.

Final scene is a toddler playing with a plastic military jet. His Father approaches and tousles his hair.

“You know, Walt,” says the Dad (offscreen) “I think you’re going to make a fine Hero someday.”

A note from the A.F. Price and Wong Mou-Lam translation of The Diamond Sutra tells us:

“A Bodhisattva is an advancing devotee of Enlightenment. A vast and complex doctrine surrounds this difficult Sanskrit Buddhist term. It is most commonly considered to be derived from Bodhi-Enlightenment, and Sattva-a being; but we prefer the view that Sattva is related to sakta or satvan, implying a spiritual hero.”

Walter Mitty: The unassuming Rosicrucian, the Bodhisattva in disguise, a Man with a Plan to harm none, serve all and come back ready for more. I think many of us are not unlike him. Our childhood dreams of heroics, stardom, wealth or a fairy tale ending all turned into a dilapidated shack on the outskirts of town. “How did I get HERE?” I’ve heard many bemoan. How, indeed? It couldn’t have been just one wrong turn. One thing leads to another and the world is not our oyster. Not even its shell.

That is, unless we see beyond this brief moving picture show and realize there are other movies to watch, other films in which we might actively play a part and other worlds toward which our adventures on all levels are taking us.

(above illustration “Walter Mitty at the Gates of Hell,” Handpainted Artflip w/ 1947 S American Wheat Cent by Kyle Fite, 2013)

I Rose to Fall



I recently asked the question on Facebook: “Who is your favorite Rosicrucian…and WHY?”

A lot of wonderful answers were given.

My question wasn’t some litmus test, after which I intended to make some clever comment on the theme. Well, maybe it was a litmus test…to see who would answer. And maybe I am now typing out my “clever commentary.” Regardless, I could not help but regard two insightful replies:

The first:

“Me. Why? Because the work is all about me… And those that come into my circle.”

The second:

“The one that never claimed to be.”

Taken together, these responses, in my view, open the Gates to the True R.C. Fraternity.

The Rosicrucian Fraternity is a controversial subject-and ironically so. After all, these were people who were willing to go “Invisible.” Not simply to obtain admittance into the Mysteries but to do so with a drive to serve the Human Race. I am reminded of the Grand Master who is revealed at the end of Hermann Hesse’s “Journey to the East.”

Hesse clearly got the picture and expressed so much in that small book.

“The first shall be last and the last shall be first.”

Now, I have worked as an occultist for over two decades of my human life. What a long, strange, stupid and sublime trip it’s been. I set my hand to the plow and foot to the path with that ravenous hunger for Truth, for the Beyond. My stomach still growls to this day. Along the way have been many ill stops. I look back and see how that hunger has led me to various schools, venues and personas. I am convinced that NOTHING will stop my ceaseless yearning save the Beloved Itself.

Having tasted of that Glory through “a dark glass, darkly,” I don’t mind the Quest. Let the Autobiography at least be interesting! After all, She is “divided for Love’s sake…for the chance of Union.”

I was introduced to the Rosicrucians through Max Heindel and his Rosicrucian Fellowship. I would later be stirred to excitement by R.S. Clymer and his School. I actually thought I had found the TRUE R.C. Order! I’d meet Randolph and spin off into the Hermetic Brother of Luxor, C.C. Zain and Co. and keep pushing onwards.

Too many roads traversed to list here. Suffice to say that I spilled out into a “World of Promise” which proved to be an empty scene of self-service, cloaked in allusion, academia and the poetry of aspiration.

There was actually an “occult scene” which rivaled any other with its politics, posturing and pretense to thrones of power. Microcosms of the Macrocosm where those who couldn’t control the bombs could at least command a baker’s dozen.

Meanwhile, Hesse’s Grandmaster is on the streets.

Alice Bailey wrote of a stage in Initiation where one had to sacrifice ALL, which included one’s own “good name in the world.” Most occultists I know speak of casting themselves into the “Abyss” as if it somehow shines a spotlight on their ability to be extreme, more advanced, better than the “sheep.”

Since when did becoming a “Master of the Temple” engender snottiness-or status as someone whose books are more worthwhile buying?

The Rosicrucians hold my fascination to this day. I’ve gone in after their “secrets.” Arthur Waite put it well in his book on the Kabbalah when he said the chief Mystery is one of Sex. Well, who wouldn’t be curious about THAT? After all, the Rosicrucians got into the Freemasons and spilled out into so many different directions. EVERYONE has the Mystery-and, if you can jump through the right hoops, you might get a taste. Dues, Deference and Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap.

The Rose Cross. What IS it? The Mystical Mysteries of Jesus? The conjoining of Lingham and Yoni?

The great sex magician, the Abbe Boullan, was allegedly attacked by “Rosicrucians” for his nefarious practices. Funny how one of his friends and disciples, the author J.K. Huysmans, became a member of the Catholic Church, seeking the Mysteries of Christ after such “wicked influence.” Huysmans wrote of Boullan as the only Priest who could best the Satanic Underground of Paris.

The Rosicrucians asked something that most “modern occultists” seem unable to fathom. “We will give you the Mysteries and nurture you therein…but you can never speak of this. You must only use these to serve others.”

Imagine it. You get the tap on the shoulder. It is that moment of Destiny. You were “seen and called.” They will not fail to deliver the goods-but you can never speak of this. You will only operate as an “Invisible” in this world. You will sacrifice your imagined career as a lauded “occultist,” only publishing under a penname, every labor given gratis. You will be assured a common life and a common death-and none will remember you. You will simply receive the Ultra-Gnosis and its Powers, live secretly within it and pass this on to one who carry the same.

Of course, you could announce an Ancient Order in a New Phase, “publically revealed for the first time ever.” You could even quit your dayjob-and get a blowjob- with that angle.

Hell, you could even get away with calling yourself a “Rosicrucian.”

Me, I see the Brotherhood of the Holy Rosy Cross as existing at the Gateway to the Abyss. They are those who Crucify that the Dead may Live in Christ. They are those who serve the Masters of the City of Pyramids.

How Romantic, yes? Until we realize that each Pyramid is a pile of DUST, the dust of everything we have loved, everyone we have loved, ourselves, our ambitions, our self-conception.

And the dust is blown away.

So many of our occult orders contain some degree, some initiation, which calls itself “Rosicrucian.”

These DO contain Mysteries. The Rosicrucian understands sex, healing, world cycles. But the bottom line is a sacrifice, a crucifixion, a Dying unto Rebirth.

Rosicrucians are not pedigreed.

And it is less important to know one than to BECOME ONE.

How Sweet the Honey…