Against Nature, the 1884 novel by J-K Huysmans, introduces the archetypal aristocrat-aesthete who retreats from modern society in order to build his own dreamworld.
“He believed that the imagination could provide a more-than-adequate substitute for the vulgar reality of actual experience,” Huysmans writes. “In his opinion, it was perfectly possible to fulfill those desires commonly supposed to be the most difficult to satisfy under normal conditions, and this by the trifling subterfuge of producing a fair imitation of the object of those desires. By transferring this ingenious trickery, this clever simulation to the intellectual plane, one can enjoy, just as easily as on the material plane, imaginary pleasures similar in all respects to the pleasures of reality.”
But beyond the personal dreamworld lies the spiritual center spoken of in ancient texts, the white mountain or island where the temple can be found in which burns the eternal flame. It is also known as the Grail Castle, a mystery of Hyperborean origin filtered through Medieval stained glass. Legend says you must cross a stormy sea and forge a path through a black forest, but eventually you’ll find a drawbridge and then all you need do is step across.
But this is a map with no names, and to dare approach the sacred center requires passing through two gates.
Just as the Great Author gives every incarnated being a unique fingerprint, so does each have a potential path written in the stars. The pieces of an individual’s map-puzzle-path are magnetized deep in a vibrational chamber of the heart where the clues that point the way to the first gate can be found.
This is the gate that leads from body to soul, from the outer world of darkness to the light of inner truth seen by the mind’s eye. The second gate will be found within this realm.
Imagination is the mediator between the human and divine, since, as Meister Eckhart says, “The eye through which I see God and God sees me are one and the same.” And so deep within the soul the determined seeker can find a passage leading to the supra-personal part of himself, where space and time lose all meaning and he is able to finally know the freedom of the unconditioned state.
Hermes, who is permitted access to the underworld — where man lives in the time of the decadence — is the personification of the aspect of divine intelligence capable of guiding the initiate from personality to soul and from soul to spirit. For in the end the universe is not made of matter but of consciousness, and gates are not physical openings but inner passages leading to higher states of being. Hermes is called the Thrice-Great, for with his winged feet he flies as fast as thought through the three realms of body, soul, and spirit.
Learn the ways of his art and the seeker of spiritual knighthood, the reborn mercurial son, the magical creator of worlds, may become lord of Total Reality.
* * *
“That’s it!” Theodore exclaimed, leaping to his feet. “That’s what’s been guiding me with its magnetic pull!”
“I haven’t finished what I have to teach you,” The Mage said, trying to hide his irritation at being interrupted.
“The Grail Castle, The Mountain Temple, The Hall of the Ancestors, The Land of the Living! Surely you’ve been there?”
“As a matter of fact I have not,” The Mage replied.
“I must try,” Theodore said, gathering up his rucksack.
“Daybreak is hours away. And you don’t even know where you’re going.”
“Hasn’t stopped me yet,” Theodore said. “Besides, aren’t I being guided? Now where’s my sword?”
“You won’t need it,” The Mage deadpanned.
“How can you say that,” Theodore said dismissively. “You have no idea what I’ll face.”
“I know one thing,” The Mage said, rising to his feet, “and that is that you are missing a piece of the puzzle.”
Theodore paused.
“Look,” The Mage said, grabbing Theodore’s rucksack.
“First, the club.”
The Mage withdrew the club and laid it on a table. “The club must be joined to the cup.”
Theodore watched as The Mage reached into Theodore’s sack and withdrew the chalice given to him by The Secret Lady, which he placed next to the club from The Hermit.
“When the masculine and feminine principles are brought together,” The Mage said, “they become a noble sword,” whereupon he placed The Knight’s sword on the table.
“Now, what you are missing — what you were meant to receive from me — is the fruit of their union.”
“Which is?” Theodore asked.
The Mage smiled and, as if from nowhere, produced a golden coin. “The club, the cup, the sword, and the coin. Yod- He-Vau-He. The Tarot. The formula for magical creation.”
“It all makes sense now,” Theodore said, reaching for the items.
“Ah!” The Mage said. “I said you wouldn’t need them.”
“Only the coin?” Theodore said with furrowed brow. “I’m not buying my way into the kingdom.”
“Nor are you taking it by force,” The Mage responded, “so put the sword down. The coin is what gets you this.”
The Mage closed his eyes in concentration and rubbed his hands together. Then he opened his eyes and waved his hands, and the four objects on the table dissolved into golden light. When the light was gone a key lay on the table.
“What does it open?” Theodore asked in amazement.
“I don’t know,” The Mage laughed. “You’ll find out!”
Theodore put the key in the pocket of his breeches and threw the rucksack over his shoulder. They had spent very little time together, and yet Theodore had been with The Mage the longest. He thanked him profusely.
“Use your divine gifts!” The Mage said, waving from the doorway as Theodore stepped out into the moonlit moorland. “Will and imagination are the secret of magic. But don’t forget reason, for everything that exists and everything that happens must have a reason, else it would neither exist nor happen!”
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