This year marks the thirtieth anniversary of my entry into the New Zealand mental health system. It’s been a frustrating and horrifying journey, a blend of Brave New World and Dante’s Inferno. Because much of what mental health experts have told me in this time has turned out to be false, I have had to teach myself about psychiatry to a major extent. If I could summarise what I have learned about dealing with a psychiatric condition oneself, I would give two basic pieces of advice.
First, understand nervous system regulation.
Modern psychiatric theory has abandoned the chemical imbalance model for the traumagenic neurodevelopmental (TN) model. This means that no well-informed person still believes that mental illness is mostly caused by chemical imbalances that can only be corrected by expensive pharmaceuticals.
According to the TN model, early childhood trauma plays the major role in mental illness by causing the brain to develop in unnatural ways. The brains of highly traumatised people tend to respond much differently to stress: some anxious and neurotic types powerfully over-react, some bluntened and depressed types under-react. Such abnormal responses to stress can make it much harder to live a normal life.
This model has implications for those who have, until now, believed that their condition was the result of something intrinsically wrong with them mentally or spiritually. It turns out that most psychiatric conditions are actually physiological in nature.
Somatic symptoms such as headaches, insomnia, nausea and migranes are often stress responses, and signals that the nervous system is already hyperaroused. Anxiety and depression are common consequences of suffering this hyperarousal for an extended period of time. As such, keeping the nervous system well-regulated is crucial for lessening the impacts of most psychiatric conditions.
The best way to do this is to avoid stress, which is not always possible. The grim truth is that most stresses are forced on people by the needs to find food and shelter. Nonetheless, there’s a lot each individual can do to minimise the stress on their nervous system.
Learning to meditate is one of the best things that anyone with a psychiatric condition can do. Cultivating the ability to not physiologically react to distressing thoughts is as good as taking any pharmaceutical. Dedicated meditation practice can downregulate the nervous system more effectively and more permanently than anything else.
Another great move is learning to avoid toxic narcissists. This is also not always possible, because of family and work obligations. But it’s very useful to learn the typical early warning signs of toxic narcissism, so that those displaying it can be shunned as early as possible.
Second, understand the importance of connection. This means connection at every level: to family, to community and to the divine.
The simplest and easiest way to feel connection is through one’s family. But, if you have a psychiatric condition, chances are high that your family environment is psychotogenic. If so, then interacting with your family can add to the stress and nervous system dysregulation. This is where the community comes in.
Connection to the community is relatively easy, but here a person has to be realistic. A mental illness will mean that certain avenues into the community will be closed off. However, it will also mean that solidarity can be easier to find in some other ways. It’s very easy to feel solidarity with other people who have had to deal with the psychiatric system. Groups organised on this basis that meet physically can be challenging to find if one doesn’t live in a city, but there are numerous online groups devoted to every psychiatric condition.
Divine connection is harder to find. The main problem here is that Westerners have been lied to about spirituality for centuries. The native Western spiritual traditions were destroyed by the coming of Christianity, so that when Christianity died, we were left with only memories of the divine. When the European spiritual traditions, such as the Eleusinian Mysteries, were lost, the Western soul was lost to confusion.
The answer here is a combination of meditation and spiritual sacraments. Correct meditation will silence the mundane thoughts, and correct spiritual sacrament use will bring the glory of the divine back to consciousness. This combination of meditation and spiritual sacrament use is the basic formula espoused by some New Age religions such as Elementalism.
Cultivating a divine connection can help create a sense of belonging, which many people do not otherwise have. It’s common to feel like an alien on this planet and in this society. Meditating or taking spiritual sacraments with friends or family can create powerful feelings of connection with the rest of reality.
Society might never have been more mentally ill than today. However, it has (probably) never been easier for an individual with a mental illness to cope with it. Advanced knowledge of the causes and treatment of mental illness is now available through the traumagenic neurodevelopmental theory, and communities of meditators or spiritual sacrament users have never been easier to find.
‘Wormboy’ is one of Marilyn Manson’s creepiest songs. From the album Antichrist Superstar, it covers typical Manson subjects like death, despair and psychological destruction, possibly in the context of a person who has discovered that Christianity has driven them to ruin. There’s more to these lyrics than goth themes, though. Buried within is some deep esoteric wisdom.
One line in particular stands out, and demands explication from an Elementalist perspective: “When you get to heaven, you will wish you’re in hell.” This is an extraordinarily strange line, but from an Elementalist perspective it makes perfect sense.
The Christian heaven (Manson’s mockery is limited to Christianity; he avoids mentioning Eastern religions) is supposed to be a place of perfect and eternal bliss. For many centuries, ignorant fools have yearned for this heaven, believing it to be a place where they are liberated from all the sufferings of the Earth. But as the lyrics of ‘Wormboy’ suggest, things aren’t that simple, especially when it comes to Christianity.
From this eternal bliss in heaven narrative, one question naturally arises: why would someone wish they were in hell?
Mainstream philosophy has difficulty grappling with such a question. Because even our metaphysical thought is infused with materialist logic, it’s hard to imagine someone desiring anything for non-materialist reasons. Thus, we understand the pursuit of pleasure and the avoidance of pain. But we don’t understand spiritual motivations nearly as well.
As such, we can understand what would motivate a person to want to get to heaven. The eternal bliss of heaven seems like a never-ending Oxycontin buzz to materialist cultures such as ours. We can all understand wanting pure pleasure.
Most people associate heaven with the ultimate final goal, the victory condition of life. If owning a home with a million dollars in the bank equals success in the physical plane, getting to one of the heaven realms equals success in the metaphysical plane. To get to heaven is to win at life. So why would a person who got there wish that they were in hell?
An Elementalist can readily explain: boredom.
The Fourth Tenet of Elementalism holds that the natural state of consciousness is one of perfect bliss. Following from this tenet, Elementalism teaches that this perfect bliss soon became excruciatingly boring. This boredom was what motivated God (understood in Elementalism to be the same thing as consciousness) to dream up something other than perfect bliss.
Elemental Elementalism 21.2 states: “It was in order to alleviate boredom that God forgot some of Godself, and, in so doing so, dreamed up the Great Fractal.” All of the various worlds in existence were dreamed up in order to alleviate the boredom of eternal bliss.
This includes the lowest of the hell realms.
It’s hard to realise, while on Earth, that any world must eventually become boring after enough time spent there. Earth is such a desperately miserable place that the vast majority of beings who incarnate here come to wish they were somewhere nicer. So, for the vast majority of Earthlings, the entire will is focused on getting to heaven. But when you get to heaven, you’ll get so bored that you will wish you’re in hell.
Infinite suffering is preferable to infinite boredom. At least infinite suffering has variety. Being forced to endure the infinite non-variety of the highest of the heaven realms is a form of suffering that is, in its own way, greater than the suffering of even the lowest of the hell realms.
So few of us appreciate the magnitude of the disappointment that awaits us in heaven!
Appreciating facts as esoteric as these is the preserve of a small number. Marilyn Manson may have seen aspects of reality that very few other humans have seen, and encoded references to this arcane knowledge in the lyrics of his songs.
It has long been known that Marilyn Manson is a fan of esotericism, and references to that are everywhere in his lyrics. Could it be that Manson himself has experienced, on occasion, such perfect bliss that he understands that there’s more to life than mere pleasure? If so, does it mean that Manson has cleared the Third Hurdle, transcended egotheism, and become a Luciferian?
The Mithraic Ladder is an occult concept referring to a ladder of seven steps. This ladder is not a physical object, but something that exists in the World of Forms. To climb the Mithraic Ladder is to perfect oneself spiritually. Thus, climbing higher involves going through a number of spiritual transformations. Symbolically, this ascent represents a return to God, to fully harmonise with the will of the Tao.
The Ladder of Mithras was a concept from the Mithraic Mysteries, a mystery school of ancient Persia. The Roman Empire stretched as far as Persia during the time of Trajan, and some of the Persian gods were syncretised into the Roman pantheon. By the time of the Late Empire, many legionnaires had been initiated into the Mithraic Mysteries and were followers of Mithra.
Initiation into the Mithraic Mysteries involved a series of seven degrees, wherein the candidate was subjected to a number of ordeals, with each ordeal somehow related to the degree in question. Precise knowledge of the true nature of each ordeal has been lost, but it is known that each one had an alchemical correspondence.
Symbolically, the Mithraic Ladder can be understood as the entire spectrum between good and bad, arranged vertically and then divided into seven steps, such that the bottommost step was the most bad and the topmost step the most good. These seven steps represent ascension through the degrees of the Mithraic Ladder.
The Mithraic Ladder is very similar to what an Elementalist would call the Great Masculine Axis. This is because it is in the nature of the masculine to divide between good and bad (as opposed to the nature of the feminine, which is to divide between masculine and feminine). It’s a line that runs directly upwards.
The seven steps of the Mithraic Ladder are roughly equivalent to the seven chakras in Vedic philosophy. As such, the process of rising up the Mithraic Ladder is similar to a kundalini awakening. Because this book is written primarily for a Western audience, it uses primarily Western esoteric terms to describe this process. Thus, the seven steps, from lowest to highest, are named in this book after the seven alchemical metals: lead, tin, iron, copper, silver, mercury and gold.
The level of spiritual development of any person – whether real or fictional – could be described as a position on the Mithraic Ladder. The bottommost step represents an undeveloped person, still an animal. The uppermost step represents a spiritually perfected person. The five steps in between represent the intermediate stages.
The book makes the argument that the most interesting thing about the development of any character (in this context, we are talking about fictional characters, but much applies to real-life ones) is their spiritual development. As such, the plot of any story can be summarised as the protagonist’s efforts to climb the Mithraic Ladder – or to descend it, in the case of tragedies and anti-heroes.
The Hero’s Journey
The Hero’s Journey is the ultimate archetype of fictional stories.
The most complete description of the Hero’s Journey was made by Joseph Campbell, the American mythographer. Campbell, in his landmark Hero With A Thousand Faces, wrote “A hero ventures forth from the world of common day into a region of supernatural wonder: fabulous forces are there encountered and a decisive victory is won: the hero comes back from this mysterious adventure with the power to bestow boons on his fellow men”.
Campbell described the Hero’s Journey as the monomyth underpinning the heroic stories and folk tales of cultures all around the world and all throughout history. It’s the one basic template of a story that everyone seems to naturally take an interest in, whether old, young, male, female, educated, uneducated, black, white or anything else.
Campbell’s basic formula is separation-initiation-return. The hero begins the story in their ordinary world, where their ordinary life progresses as usual. Then, some event upsets the natural order of life. Usually there is an evil antagonist behind this event. The hero is then cast into the special world, where they undergo a number of trials. If they pass them, they are initiated into a higher order of being. Then they return to their ordinary world, transformed into a hero.
Over the course of an interesting story, the protagonist has to change – from an ordinary person into a hero. They have to develop, otherwise the author is writing pulp fiction. The term ‘Hero’s Journey’ describes the typical pattern of development. It can have up to 20 stages depending on how detailed a person wants to get.
In children’s stories, it’s acceptable for the protagonist to develop in crudely material ways. They gain a fortune, they kill the enemy commander, they rescue the princess. But the sort of person who keeps reading fiction into adulthood soon wants more from their literature. They want more subtle character development.
Sophisticated literature is more about the emotional, mental and spiritual journeys than about physical ones. Readers want characters who change, who become permanently transformed by the trials they have undergone. What they want is a relatable Hero’s Journey that appeals to them on a deep level.
In a complete story written for modern audiences, the plot will be more complicated than separation-initiation-return. There will be multiple separations and initiations, and multiple false returns. The tripartite nature of the monomyth doesn’t change, however. The general pattern can be thought of as a descent down the Mithraic Ladder, then a spiritual transformation, then an ascent back up.
The contention made by this book is that this Hero’s Journey is most interesting if it’s considered in alchemical terms. Thus it is changes in a character’s frequency of consciousness over time that primarily makes a story interesting to a sophisticated, intelligent reader.
Alchemy
Alchemy is defined in this book as the process by which a person goes up or down the Mithraic Ladder. It has nothing to do with the transmutation of anything physical into anything else physical – it’s all about spiritual transformations. As such, there are two major types of alchemy: anabatic and katabatic.
Anabatic alchemy is the process of increasing one’s frequency of consciousness and ascending the Mithraic Ladder.
The ordeals of the early stages of this process only require small efforts, but they must be diligently repeated. Once the process is underway, greater efforts must be made to progress further, but with less emphasis on repetition. The process is finalised by a few acts of immense will.
This is what is typically referred to as the alchemical process. Spiritual lead is made into spiritual gold through a series of six refinements: enlarging, hardening, colouring, brightening, quickening and perfecting. This process is discussed in detail in the six chapters under the ‘Anabasis’ heading.
Katabatic alchemy is the process of decreasing one’s frequency of consciousness and descending the Mithraic Ladder.
As with anabatic alchemy, the process of katabasis begins with a large quantity of actions of individually low impact, and ends with major acts of high impact. The essential difference is that acts of katabatic alchemy are bad ones, increasing the suffering and misery in the world. Thus, spiritual gold is made into spiritual lead by a series of six defilements: imperfecting, retarding, dullening, discolouring, softening and shrinking. These stages comprise the six chapters under the ‘Katabasis’ heading.
This reverse alchemical process is not generally considered to be alchemical or heroic, but the fact is that before any character can rise to perfection, they must have first fallen out of it. As Carl Jung wrote “No tree, it is said, can grow to heaven unless its roots reach down to hell.” Any character can be made more realistic and easier to identify with if they have a bit of a dark side. Also, katabatic alchemy can help expand your antagonist’s back story, letting the reader know how they became that way.
The alchemical maxim solve et coagula, is very much like separation and return. This is closely analogous to the katabatic and anabatic stages of the alchemical process. The idea is to break apart one’s consciousness and then build it back stronger, like an athlete breaks apart his muscles in order to grow them.
The initiation phase, which occurs outside, between and beyond katabasis and anabasis, is where the real magic is. This initiation phase, in alchemical terms, is where the real magic of the fictional story happens, where katabatic energy is transformed into anabatic energy, and a character begins to ascend the Mithraic Ladder again.
At least in theory: a real story plot will be far more complex than this. In practice, a character attempting to rise up the Mithraic Ladder will encounter numerous obstacles, reversals, challenges and setbacks that will knock them back down a level or two. Betrayals and unexpected events might demand a temporary step down the Mithraic Ladder in order to get business done.
The Alchemy of Character Development
Understanding the Mithraic Ladder, the Hero’s Journey and alchemy, the reader of this book will understand the essential nature of excellent literature. The alchemy of character development is the storytime magic that causes your fictional characters to transform from one spiritual level to the next.
Almost everyone can relate to the basic struggle of wanting to be good but sometimes being bad out of weakness. Even young children understand the basic challenge of temptation to do things that aren’t in their long-term interest. This is why so many intriguing stories are based around temptation and moral dilemmas (for more on this specific topic, see Book 3 in this series, 16 Moral Dilemmas).
In alchemical terms, this is the struggle of wanting to rise up the Mithraic Ladder. The desire to rise up and reunite with divinity is understood by people everywhere. Mature readers will also understand that there is a dark side to the human being, something that drives them down the Mithraic Ladder, and that this is in conflict with the first force.
This alchemy is what makes fiction good, and what makes literature memorable.
The goal of this book is to describe, in the clearest terms, all the possible alchemical journeys that could be taken by a character in dramatic fiction. This description can be thought of as a series of archetypal templates of psychological transformation. How those transformations happen is explained in depth in each of the individual chapters.
This magic of alchemy, as described in this book, is not limited to the protagonist of your story. Minor characters that undergo the transformations described in this book will be much more interesting than static characters. So will antagonists that undergo katabatic processes. Even characters that are only described in passing can be made more interesting if their backstory is explicated in alchemical terms.
You can also use this book as a source of prompts by randomly choosing one of the twelve transformations described in the Anabasis and Katabasis sections, and using that as the basis for a story.
However this book is used, the information contained herein will deepen and broaden the reader’s understanding of the spiritual aspects of reality as well as the alchemical process.
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This is an excerpt from Vince McLeod’s The Alchemy of Character Development, the sixth book in VJM Publishing’s Writing With Psychology series. This book will show you how to use alchemy to create deep, realistic and engaging characters for your creative fiction.
The sixth, and final, stage of the Katabasis is the transmutation of tin into lead. This completes the process of spiritual descent and makes an animal out of that which was once divine. Lead is the lowest level of the Mithraic Ladder, and in the context of Katabasis reflects a person who has not only lost touch with their divinity, but also with their basic humanity.
Shrinking is the process by which tin transmutes to lead. This reflects the fact that, in transmuting down to lead, a character exchanges vastness of soul for pettiness. The character becomes what Confucius called a xiaoren, or small man. Metaphorically, a character’s consciousness shrinks, and that divine energy is replaced by animal energy. The character becomes a monster.
A character of tin might be degenerate, but they are still often fun to be around. In transmuting to lead, the character of tin loses the good humour and sociability that makes the character of tin so fun. They become dark and serious, even sinister. The realm of lead is the realm of the extreme resentment that makes truly horrendous crimes possible.
Extreme stress is a common catalyst for the transmutation to lead. One major trauma, enough to cause thorough bitterness, is typical. Here one can see how the Katabasis is structurally similar to the Anabasis, even if the overall movement is in different directions, as both begin with large numbers of acts of subtle emotional energy, and both are completed with singular acts of extreme emotional energy.
A major traumatic experience, such as getting stabbed almost to death, can create a permanent fear response that robs life of joy. The collapse of a character’s environment, from peacetime to wartime, can manifest a constant joyless state. Becoming a refugee or an orphan, or getting caught in a natural disaster, can achieve the same effect.
Stress and suffering make it impossible to relax and enjoy oneself. Therefore, increasing the stress and suffering a character undergoes will generally push them down the Mithraic Ladder. For these unwanted feelings to push a character as far as the realm of lead – which is to say, to the subhuman level – they have to be inhumane. They must involve extreme misery, or misery extended for an extreme length of time, or extreme callousness (or all three).
In the mind of a character undergoing the process, transmuting from tin to lead can feel like losing one’s mind completely. Being at the level of tin already suggests that a person has given up on most ambitions and is willing to degenerate. Descending to lead is the end result of that degeneration process. It’s the rock bottom spoken about by alcoholics.
Another common example of this process occurs when a character is broken by early childhood stress. Perhaps they were abandoned as a child, and, despite being able to battle their way up to the realm of copper or even silver, the structural damage done to their brain by the neglect leaves them vulnerable to tragedy later in life (most stories about the descent from tin to lead will be tragedies in some form).
Extreme stress often leads to low-frequency behaviour on the battlefield, and the deprivations of war have driven many a character into the realm of lead, both in fiction and in real life. War might be the preserve of the realm of iron or copper if one is writing in a heroic sense, but if the object is to portray the kind of stresses that break a person, the realm of lead is particularly relevant.
Chronic insomnia is archetypal of the nagging stress conditions that can drive a person from tin to lead. A person might be trying to enjoy their life, but, due to an inability to sleep, they eventually crack. Chronic pain is a related condition.
Morally speaking, there is no deed too low for the character of lead, which can be a function of either malice or insanity. Characters of iron might be brutish and characters of tin degenerate, but the grosser crimes are the preserve of the characters of lead. The murderers, rapists, traitors that other characters regret ever having known are usually characters of lead. So are the genuinely wretched cases of mental illness. Thus, in descending to lead, a character will plumb new moral depths.
Physically, the transition to lead can be marked by physically shrinking. Lead is the realm of desperation to survive. To transmute from tin to iron is to lose weight in becoming fit; to transmute from tin to lead is to lose weight in becoming weak. The kind of thinness that comes with extreme stress is perhaps the most obvious marker of a descent into the realm of lead.
In real life, people can become skinny after suffering extended stress because they have less appetite, or have started throwing up. A character who regularly throws up from stress is almost certainly on a path to losing all joy in their life.
Socially, lead is marked by ostracisation. To transmute from tin to lead in this context is to fall out even with one’s degenerate friends. To be an alcoholic, and to have even other alcoholics start not wanting to be around you, is to descend to lead. Starting a fight with a barman and getting an assault conviction is a common example, as is your ex-partner taking a restraining order out on you.
The more extreme and dramatic forms of ostracisation are often readily symbolic, such as ending up in prison or in a mental health ward. A character who ends up incarcerated has very much shut themselves off from higher frequencies. Anyone who takes a happy-go-lucky attitude into a prison or a mental health unit will soon lose it.
This ostracisation could lead to a mass shooter story (or some other crime tale).
Mentally, the transition from tin to lead is marked by a loss of pro-social thoughts and attitudes. If the descent from iron to tin involves becoming apathetic, the descent to lead involves becoming cruel. A character descending to lead learns to take pleasure in the misery of others. Where they may have once found mirth in common cheer, they now find it in more selfish perspectives.
The character of tin might be unhealthy and under a lot of stress, but they generally enjoy themselves. In transmuting to lead, such characters lose that ability. They start wishing they weren’t alive. They may even develop the sense that the gods are laughing at them. Moreover, and most critical from a dramatic perspective, they start taking their misery out on others.
Spiritually, the descent to lead implies the abandonment of all idea of spirituality. Concerns about earning an auspicious rebirth are jettisoned from consciousness. The character descending to lead loses all belief in reincarnation and karma. Like an animal, they only care about satisfying impulses. The descent to lead, then, is very much the final victory of the beast over the higher self.
One classic depiction of the process of transmuting to lead is in the story of Private Pyle from Full Metal Jacket. Werewolf tales are related to this. The general idea is that the transmutation from tin into lead unleashes the beast. Thus the Katabasis is completed and the character either dies or begins the Anabasis again.
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This is an excerpt from Vince McLeod’s The Alchemy of Character Development, the sixth book in VJM Publishing’s Writing With Psychology series. This book will show you how to use alchemy to create deep, realistic and engaging characters for your creative fiction.
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