Introduction

In our first interview with Erwin Pitsch, we explored the extraordinary breadth of his path—from his early practice of Franz Bardon’s system and involvement in Rosicrucian and Martinist traditions to Kerning, yoga, the Jhānas, Theosis and the possibility of the Rainbow Body. That conversation introduced a practitioner whose conclusions were shaped not by loyalty to a single school, but by decades of sustained work across Western esotericism and Eastern contemplative traditions.

In this second interview, we move beyond the broad map and ask a more difficult question: what remains after someone has gone as far as Bardon’s published system can take them? Pitsch continues to regard Initiation into Hermetics as one of the strongest practical training systems available in the West, but argues that Bardon’s work remains incomplete as a path of inner alchemy and liberation.

The discussion examines what he calls the missing keys: right view, dependent origination, non-self, the Jhānas, the formless attainments, cessation and the direct transformation of consciousness. We also explore the living work of the sacred letters, the distinction between magical ability and genuine liberation, the strengths and limitations of Rosicrucian systems such as AAORRAC and OARC, and why advanced practice may ultimately require less accumulation and more relinquishment.

What follows is not a copy of the first interview. It is a sharper reassessment of the purpose of magical training itself—and of the point at which developing the powers of the mind must give way to understanding the nature of mind

Disclaimer: We understand that discussions about influential figures such as Franz Bardon can inspire strong feelings, and that people may become defensive when deeply held beliefs are questioned. We present questions, answers, and opinions to encourage open and respectful discussion. Agreement is not required; thoughtful dialogue, even when perspectives differ, is healthy and valuable for everyone.

Bardon and the Missing Keys

PAA: In our previous interview, you described Bardon’s training as a system that genuinely works and said that you were nearly finished with it. You have since said that Bardon is the only publicly available Western system that works, but that it remains incomplete in terms of inner alchemy and finishing the path. What has become clearer in your understanding since our first interview?

Franz Bardon created what is, in my opinion, one of the clearest and most systematic introductions to Western esoteric training ever published. His method presents a logical progression that anyone with discipline can follow. Rather than overwhelming the student with endless theory, he provides practical exercises that gradually develop concentration, imagination, elemental balance, willpower, and the conscious direction of vital force, known in various traditions as prana or chi. His concept of achieving equilibrium between the four elements within one’s own psyche is particularly important, because this inner balance becomes the foundation upon which many higher faculties can safely develop. It is no coincidence that countless practitioners have reported genuine progress through his system.

As I advanced through the later stages of Bardon’s work, however, its limitations became increasingly apparent. His explanation of the mental body remains relatively simple and never develops into a comprehensive understanding of consciousness beyond the physical plane. While he introduces the concept of mental wandering, he offers very little explanation of the structure of the various subtle interdimensional realms and its residents, the principles governing interdimensional travel, or the precautions required when entering those states. These are not merely technical omissions but important areas where the practitioner is left largely to discover the path through personal experience.

The same applies to the practices of evocation. Although The Practice of Magical Evocation presents an impressive catalogue of intelligences and symbolic structures, the practical instructions are often extremely difficult to implement successfully. Many sincere students spend years attempting these operations without ever obtaining consistent results, largely because the underlying mechanics of consciousness are not fully explained. Bardon’s third volume, The Key to the True Quabbalah, is even more challenging. While it contains profound insights, much of it reads more like an outline or script than a complete manual, requiring knowledge that is simply not supplied within the text itself.

One of the greatest insights that became clear through my own practice concerns Bardon’s work with the Hermetic letters. Contrary to the common assumption that one must intellectually memorise every colour, elemental correspondence, sensation, musical note, and symbolic association, I found that this eventually becomes unnecessary. Once the practitioner has reached sufficient meditative depth and genuine inner perception, the letters themselves begin to reveal their own qualities directly. Their elemental nature, colours, vibrations, and functions arise spontaneously within consciousness as living experiences rather than as concepts remembered from a table. At that stage, the letters are no longer visualisations imposed by the intellect. They become living principles that communicate their own reality to the practitioner.

This realisation fundamentally changed my understanding of inner alchemy. Intellectual memorisation is useful during the early stages, but direct perception eventually replaces conceptual knowledge. The letters become teachers in their own right, revealing layers of meaning that no written correspondence can adequately describe.

PAA: When you say that Bardon is the only publicly available Western system that “works,” what precisely do you mean? Does it reliably develop concentration and magical faculties, transform the personality, take the practitioner towards liberation, or accomplish some combination of these?

What I mean is that Franz Bardon created a systematic and remarkably simple training method that genuinely produces results. If the exercises are followed with discipline, the practitioner develops concentration, imagination, elemental equilibrium, conscious control of attention, and eventually experiences that go far beyond ordinary visualization. It is one of the very few Western systems that consistently enables genuine mental wandering, practical work with elemental forces, and direct experience rather than mere theory.

At the same time, as I pointed out earlier, its limitations become increasingly apparent once the practitioner progresses beyond Step Six. Bardon lays an excellent foundation, but many of the higher aspects of consciousness, inner alchemy, interdimensional navigation, and the final stages of liberation remain only partially explained or are left largely undeveloped.

My conclusion is not based on reading Bardon alone. I spent years living in India and Africa, studying a wide range of wisdom traditions, eventually becoming a Yoga Acharya, and working through virtually every major Rosicrucian system and degree available in the West. After decades of comparative practice, I still regard Bardon’s Initiation into Hermetics as the only publicly available Western system that functions as a complete, practical training course from beginning to the intermediate stages. It reliably develops concentration, elemental balance, imaginative faculties, and practical magical abilities through direct experience rather than belief.

Most other Western esoteric systems eventually lose themselves in elaborate symbolism, speculative philosophy, or rituals that create the appearance of initiation without producing corresponding inner transformation. Too often they become costume balls rather than schools of genuine practice. Symbols certainly have their place, but symbols alone do not cultivate wisdom, concentration, or direct insight. Practice does.

That is why I continue to recommend Bardon as the best starting point for Western practitioners. It is not perfect, and it is certainly not the final word on the path to liberation, but it remains, in my experience, the most effective publicly available Western curriculum for developing the mind through systematic practice.

PAA: You have described Bardon’s three books as three keys out of a larger structure of twenty-two or possibly fifty-six keys, corresponding to the first three Tarot cards. What exactly is a key, why are there two possible totals, and where does this larger structure originate?

I personally would not encourage students to spend years studying Tarot symbolism or the Hebrew alphabet in the hope that these systems will eventually reveal profound truths. They certainly possess historical and symbolic value, but in my experience, they often become intellectual frameworks rather than living practice. I would even go so far as to recommend putting those systems aside for a time and allowing the letters themselves to become the teacher.

Language is not merely a human invention. It is one of the fundamental building blocks through which we structure and interact with reality. Every spoken letter requires a precise configuration of the body, the breath, the tongue, the palate and the vocal apparatus. Those physical actions are inseparable from subtle mental and energetic processes. Rather than approaching letters as abstract symbols, they should be approached as living principles.

This understanding is not unique to one tradition. Similar approaches appear in Nada Yoga, Daoist internal cultivation, the Hurufi tradition within Islam, and in the work of Johann Baptist Kerning. These systems recognise that the letters are not simply signs on paper. They are vibratory realities that gradually reveal their own qualities through direct practice.

When I refer to “keys,” I am speaking about progressive stages of access to these living principles of consciousness. Bardon’s three published books can be understood as only the first keys of a much larger system. Whether that complete system originally consisted of twenty-two or fifty-six keys remains uncertain. Various esoteric traditions have preserved different fragments, and I do not regard either number as definitively established. What is important is not the arithmetic but the recognition that Bardon’s published work appears to represent only the beginning of a much larger body of practical knowledge.

The essential point is that no amount of symbolism can replace direct experience. The letters reveal themselves only when the practitioner has developed the necessary inner conditions. These include moral integrity, purity of intention, concentration, right view, right effort and a disciplined mind. In Buddhist terminology, the development of the jhānas provides the collectedness required for this work. From the perspective of Bardon, the same function is served through elemental equilibrium and the Akashic trance.

Even the first jhāna provides sufficient mental stability for meaningful work with the letters to begin. As concentration deepens through the higher absorptions, the letters gradually cease to be sounds or concepts and become direct experiences. At that point they begin to reveal qualities that cannot be adequately explained in books. The practitioner is no longer interpreting symbols. The letters themselves become the teacher.

PAA: Bardon’s three books include magical equilibrium, mental and astral development, theurgy, contact with spiritual intelligences, the Akasha principle and Quabbalistic creation. What remains unavailable after someone has genuinely completed Initiation into Hermetics, The Practice of Magical Evocation and The Key to the True Quabbalah?

Bardon’s system should never be seen as the destination. It is the beginning of one’s own practice. His first two books provide a systematic foundation, while The Key to the True Quabbalah is, in my opinion, more of a script or outline than a complete training manual. It points towards a much larger body of work without fully explaining how to accomplish it.

After genuinely completing all three books, the practitioner has acquired a remarkable foundation: mental discipline, elemental equilibrium, conscious work with the Akasha principle, practical evocation, and the initial mastery of the creative power of the letters. Yet this is still only the threshold of a far greater journey.

The real work begins when those abilities are applied beyond the exercises themselves. One must learn to navigate the various interdimensional realms safely, understand the principles governing those dimensions, and develop the discernment required to interact with spiritual intelligences without projection or self-deception. Advanced evocation is not simply the ability to call an intelligence into a circle. It is the capacity to consciously enter the realms in which those intelligences exist, communicate with them directly, and eventually function within those worlds with clarity and stability.

Likewise, mastering the letters is not the end of the path but only one aspect of it. The letters gradually become living realities that continue to unfold over many years of practice. Their deeper functions cannot be learned intellectually but reveal themselves through direct experience and increasing states of absorption.

Bardon himself repeatedly referred to many additional “Tarot cards,” implying that his three published books represented only the first portion of a much larger system. Whether those remaining teachings were ever written down is impossible to say. My own conclusion is that they were never intended to be learned from books alone.

Beyond the foundation Bardon provides, knowledge increasingly comes through practice itself. As the practitioner deepens the work with the letters, develops higher states of consciousness, and gains experience in interdimensional exploration and authentic contact with spiritual intelligences, the path becomes progressively self-revealing. Books become less important. Direct experience becomes the teacher. That, in my view, is where Bardon’s published system ends and the genuine work of the adept truly begins.

PAA: You have said that liberation and inner alchemy are missing from Bardon’s published work. What does inner alchemy mean here in practical rather than symbolic terms? What is transformed within the practitioner, and how can that transformation be recognized?

What I mean by inner alchemy is not the symbolic transformation found in medieval alchemy or later occult traditions. I am referring to a direct transformation of consciousness itself. Bardon’s system develops remarkable mental discipline, imagination, elemental equilibrium and magical faculties, but it largely remains within the framework of what I would call the false self, the ordinary sense of being a separate individual who is the doer and owner of experience.

Virtually every authentic wisdom tradition eventually points beyond this. In Buddhism it is expressed through anattā, the direct realization that no permanent, independent self can be found. This insight arises together with the direct observation of dependent origination, seeing that every thought, feeling, perception and action arises because of causes and conditions rather than an enduring “I.” Similar insights appear in advanced Daoism, Advaita Vedanta and Christian mysticism, although they are described in different language.

This dimension is almost entirely absent from Bardon’s published work. There is no systematic instruction leading the practitioner beyond identification with the mind itself. As a result, many practitioners develop impressive magical abilities while remaining identified with the very structure that ultimately limits further development.

In my experience, this identification is precisely what prevents the deeper capacities of consciousness from unfolding naturally. As long as there remains the conviction that “I am the magician” or “I am the one performing these operations,” there is still a subtle contraction that separates the practitioner from direct reality.

Inner alchemy is therefore the gradual dissolution of that contraction. It is the purification of perception until awareness no longer revolves around an imagined centre. This transformation is not achieved through ritual, evocation or intellectual understanding, but through direct meditative experience.

The practical path begins with ethical purification and collectedness of mind, progresses through the eight jhānas, deepens into the experience of the still mind and the signless state, and culminates in cessation, where even perception and feeling temporarily cease. These experiences fundamentally transform how reality is perceived. When consciousness returns, the illusion of a permanent self has been profoundly weakened or entirely dissolved.

This transformation can be recognised quite easily. The practitioner no longer seeks magical powers as personal achievements. Craving, fear and psychological reactivity diminish. Compassion arises naturally rather than being cultivated as a virtue. Action becomes increasingly spontaneous, effortless and free from self-reference. The magical faculties, rather than disappearing, often become clearer because they are no longer distorted by personal ambition or identification.

For this reason, I regard liberation not as something separate from magical development but as its necessary completion. Bardon’s work builds an extraordinary foundation, yet the path of inner alchemy begins where his published books largely end.

PAA: Is Bardon incomplete because particular exercises and initiations are absent, or because his existing exercises are normally approached from an incorrect understanding of the self, magical development and the final goal?

Franz Bardon himself never claimed to have written a complete system. His training is explicitly based on the first three cards of the Book of Thoth, making it an introduction to a much larger body of esoteric knowledge rather than a finished path. Initiation into Hermetics provides an exceptionally well-structured framework for developing concentration, imagination, elemental equilibrium, willpower and the manipulation of vital force. One of its greatest strengths is that students achieve tangible results relatively early, allowing confidence to grow through direct personal experience rather than blind belief.

The incompleteness of Bardon’s work, however, is not simply that certain advanced exercises or initiations are missing. It is also that the system does not address the deeper transformation of consciousness that lies at the heart of the great contemplative traditions. There is virtually no discussion of the progressive thresholds of meditative development, such as the yogic samādhis or the Buddhist jhānas, nor of the cultivation of profound stillness that ultimately dissolves identification with the ordinary sense of self.

Most importantly, the principle of anattā, or non self, is entirely absent. Bardon’s exercises are generally practised from the perspective of an individual practitioner who develops increasingly refined magical abilities. In my view, this eventually becomes the greatest limitation of the system. As long as the practitioner continues to identify with the false self, that identification itself becomes the final obstacle. The deeper capacities of consciousness are not unlocked merely through accumulating techniques or magical skills, but through seeing directly the conditioned nature of the self and allowing that illusion to dissolve.

For this reason, I see Bardon’s work as an outstanding introduction to systematic mental training, but not as the completion of the path. It builds a remarkably strong foundation, yet the final stages require a shift from developing the mind to understanding the nature of mind itself. That transition, found in traditions such as advanced Yoga and early Buddhism, is what transforms technical proficiency into genuine liberation.

PAA: What is the eventual result of the remaining keys? What becomes possible through the complete work that cannot be achieved through Bardon’s three published books alone?

The answer becomes apparent only after the practitioner has crossed certain thresholds of consciousness that Bardon himself never describes in his published work. These include the progressive experience of travelling the interdimensional realms, the attainment of the eight jhānas, followed by the experience of the still mind, the signless condition, and ultimately the cessation of feeling and perception. These are not simply deeper meditative states. They fundamentally transform the practitioner’s relationship to consciousness itself.

It is at this point that the remaining keys begin to reveal their purpose. The goal is no longer the refinement of magical technique or the acquisition of further abilities, but the direct realization of the nature of mind. As the illusion of a separate self dissolves, consciousness functions from an entirely different foundation. Magical practice ceases to be an act of personal will and instead becomes an expression of natural law, free from the distortions of egoic identification.

This is why I regard Franz Bardon’s published work as the introduction to a much larger and more complete system. His books establish an exceptional foundation by cultivating discipline, imagination, elemental equilibrium and practical experience. They prepare the practitioner remarkably well. However, they stop before introducing the stages of consciousness that complete the inner transformation.

Without those remaining stages, the practitioner may become highly proficient in magical practice while still operating from the ordinary sense of self. Once those thresholds have been crossed, the purpose of the earlier training becomes fully apparent. The exercises are no longer ends in themselves, but preparatory steps toward liberation, wisdom and a mode of consciousness from which the deeper capacities of the human being naturally unfold.

Wrong View and the Purpose of Practice

PAA: You have said that Western practitioners often attempt transformation from wrong view, which consequently produces wrong effort and wrong focus. What is the central wrong view underlying most Western magical practice?

Right view is the foundation of the entire path. Without it, every effort, no matter how disciplined or sincere, is ultimately directed by misunderstanding. This is why the Buddha placed right view as the first factor of the Noble Eightfold Path. It determines the direction of every other practice.

The central wrong view underlying much of Western magical practice is the assumption that there is a permanent individual self that must become more powerful, more enlightened, or more spiritually advanced. The practitioner identifies with the mind, personality and will, and then seeks to perfect that identity through magical training. The entire system becomes centred on acquiring abilities, gaining knowledge, contacting spiritual beings, or mastering hidden forces. While these practices may produce genuine experiences and measurable results, they often reinforce the very sense of self that the contemplative traditions identify as the root of suffering.

In Theravāda, right view begins with understanding the Four Noble Truths, karma, dependent origination, and the universal characteristics of existence: impermanence, unsatisfactoriness and non self. Through careful observation in meditation, one discovers that every thought, emotion, sensation and perception arises due to conditions and passes away according to conditions. Nowhere within this continuous process can a permanent, independent self be found.

This insight fundamentally changes the purpose of practice. Meditation is no longer undertaken to become a more powerful individual, but to understand reality exactly as it is. Concentration, the jhānas, mindfulness and wisdom are cultivated not as achievements to possess, but as conditions that allow direct insight into dependent origination and the cessation of clinging.

When right view matures, effort also changes. Instead of striving to accumulate spiritual attainments, the practitioner gradually abandons craving, attachment and identification. The path becomes one of letting go rather than acquiring. Liberation is recognised not as the perfection of the self, but as freedom from the mistaken belief that such a permanent self ever existed.

This is where I experience many Western esoteric systems to become limited. They are often exceptionally effective at developing the faculties of the mind, yet they rarely question the one who claims ownership of those faculties. Without right view, extraordinary experiences can simply become further objects of attachment. With right view, every practice becomes part of a process leading toward wisdom, liberation and the direct realization of reality beyond the illusion of self.

PAA: You also say that practice from within gradually leads to right view, which then produces right effort. How can practice begin correcting wrong view when the practitioner necessarily begins the work from that wrong view?

Every practitioner begins from some degree of wrong view. If complete right view were already present, there would be no path to walk. The purpose of practice is precisely to replace conceptual understanding with direct experience.

Franz Bardon himself understood this to a degree. Throughout Initiation into Hermetics, he repeatedly emphasizes the importance of the practitioner’s inner attitude and the state of mind from which the exercises are undertaken. His training encourages self-observation, honesty and gradual transformation through experience rather than blind belief. In this respect, the system provides an excellent beginning.

The difficulty is that the destination is never fully defined. In the great wisdom traditions, right view is clearly explained from the outset. Whether one studies early Buddhism, classical Yoga, Advaita, Daoism or the Christian contemplative tradition, the practitioner is given a clear understanding of the ultimate goal: liberation from ignorance, direct knowledge of reality, and freedom from identification with the separate self. The practices are then understood as methods leading toward that realization.

By contrast, most Western esoteric traditions never clearly establish this foundation. Over generations, many Rosicrucian orders, magical schools, occult societies and even branches of the Theosophical movement developed increasingly elaborate cosmologies, rituals and symbolic systems while gradually losing sight of the essential purpose of spiritual practice. Students often came to believe that initiation, hidden knowledge, magical powers or hierarchical advancement constituted spiritual progress. In many cases, they no longer possessed a clear understanding of what liberation actually meant, or why the practices were originally undertaken.

Nevertheless, sincere practice still has the potential to correct wrong view. As concentration deepens, mindfulness becomes continuous, and the mind grows quieter, the practitioner begins to observe directly that thoughts, emotions and perceptions arise and pass away according to conditions. This direct observation gradually weakens previously held assumptions and opens the possibility of genuine right view emerging through experience rather than philosophy alone.

The difference is that traditions grounded in right view deliberately guide this process toward insight into dependent origination, non-self and liberation. Systems that lack this framework may still produce remarkable experiences, but practitioners often interpret those experiences through the very misconceptions they have never been taught to question. As a result, genuine transformation can become delayed, not because the practices are ineffective, but because the framework through which they are understood remains incomplete.

PAA: Can Bardon’s practices be reoriented through the Buddhist understanding of dependent origination and non-self, or does the attempt to strengthen and master the personality and subtle bodies inevitably reinforce the illusion of a separate self?

In my view, they can be reoriented, but only if the practitioner’s understanding changes first. Wisdom, or prajñā, cannot be borrowed from books, teachers or traditions. It develops through one’s own practice and direct observation of experience. Every genuine wisdom tradition ultimately points to this same principle: truth must be realized, not merely believed.

Bardon’s exercises themselves are not the problem. They are practical methods for developing concentration, imagination, vitality and discipline. Like any tool, however, they are interpreted according to the understanding of the person using them. If the practitioner believes that the purpose of the path is to strengthen a separate spiritual identity, accumulate powers or perfect an enduring personality, then the practices are likely to reinforce that identification.

If, on the other hand, the practitioner has developed right view through direct insight into dependent origination and non self, the same exercises can be understood very differently. They become methods for refining the mind while simultaneously observing that every experience, every mental image, every sensation and every apparent faculty arises due to conditions and passes away according to conditions. There is no permanent owner behind the process, only an unfolding stream of conditioned phenomena.

This transformation cannot be achieved intellectually. It emerges naturally through sustained meditation, deep concentration and careful observation. As wisdom matures, the motivation for practice changes. The practitioner no longer seeks mastery for the sake of the self, but uses every exercise as another opportunity to deepen clarity, reduce attachment and understand the nature of mind.

In that sense, Bardon’s methods can certainly become part of a path of liberation. Their value depends not only on the exercises themselves, but on the understanding from which they are practised. Technique without wisdom easily becomes another form of attachment. Technique guided by direct insight becomes a vehicle for the gradual unfolding of wisdom itself.

PAA: Can someone develop genuine magical abilities while remaining trapped in wrong view? What distinguishes technical magical attainment from actual liberation?

Yes. A person can develop genuine magical abilities while remaining entirely within wrong view. Throughout history, many traditions have acknowledged that extraordinary abilities can arise through concentration, discipline and prolonged practice. These attainments, however, should never be confused with wisdom or liberation.

From the perspective of the contemplative traditions, magical powers are ultimately neutral. They say nothing about the practitioner’s freedom from greed, hatred and delusion. A person may possess remarkable abilities while still identifying with the illusion of a separate self, still driven by craving, attachment and subtle forms of becoming. In that sense, magical attainments are not evidence of enlightenment.

In fact, they can become one of the greatest obstacles on the path. Extraordinary experiences easily become objects of fascination. The practitioner begins to identify with being a magician, an adept or someone possessing secret knowledge. Recognition, power and spiritual identity become new forms of craving, while attachment to experiences and abilities strengthens the very patterns that the path is intended to dissolve.

Actual liberation is something entirely different. It is not measured by what a person can do, but by what has ceased. Craving weakens. Clinging falls away. Delusion is replaced by direct knowledge of the conditioned nature of experience. Through insight into dependent origination and non self, the practitioner no longer builds identity around experiences, attainments or abilities. Freedom arises because there is no longer anything to defend, accumulate or become.

This is why the great wisdom traditions consistently place wisdom above powers. Magical abilities may appear or they may not. They are secondary. Liberation is the ending of ignorance. Without that transformation, even the highest technical attainments remain conditioned phenomena, impressive perhaps, but still unfolding within the cycle of craving, clinging and delusion.

Jhāna, the Formless States and Cessation

PAA: You recommend the four Brahmavihāras as a route through what you call the awareness Jhānas, the four formless states and eventually cessation. How does this progression unfold in actual practice?

The Brahmavihāras are not simply emotional qualities to be cultivated. They become the vehicle through which consciousness gradually releases its habitual identification with the personality and the sensory world. Loving kindness, compassion, appreciative joy and equanimity progressively refine the mind until it naturally enters the Jhānas. These absorptions are not achievements to be collected but doorways into increasingly profound understanding. Each Jhāna represents another stage of letting go, another layer of craving, grasping and identification falling away.

As the practitioner becomes established in the fourth Jhāna, the transition into the formless realms unfolds naturally. The fifth Jhāna, the sphere of infinite space, marks a profound shift in perception. Awareness is no longer experienced as confined to the physical body, and what many traditions describe as interdimensional travel becomes a spontaneous capacity rather than a technique to be forced. One begins to understand directly that consciousness is not limited by ordinary concepts of space.

The subsequent formless attainments continue this process of release. Infinite consciousness reveals awareness itself as the object of experience. The sphere of nothingness represents an even deeper letting go, where the structures that ordinarily define experience begin to disappear. From my own perspective, this is the first stage at which one genuinely steps outside what could be called the matrix of conditioned perception. Reality is no longer filtered primarily through the habitual construction of the personal self.

The final formless attainment, neither perception nor non perception, refines consciousness to such an extraordinary degree that it approaches the threshold where all conditioned experience temporarily ceases. When cessation occurs, the entire process of perception, feeling and mental activity comes to complete rest. Emerging from this experience, dependent origination is no longer merely a philosophical teaching. It has been directly observed. One sees how experience arises conditionally, moment by moment, and how the illusion of a permanent, independent self is constructed.

With that insight comes a relief unlike anything previously experienced. It is not emotional excitement or mystical ecstasy, but the profound peace that arises when the burden of constantly constructing and defending a separate identity momentarily falls away. This is why the Jhānas are so important. Their true purpose is not the cultivation of extraordinary experiences or psychic abilities, although such phenomena may arise naturally. Their purpose is wisdom. They provide the conditions under which direct insight into dependent origination, non self and ultimately liberation can unfold. Without that wisdom, even the highest meditative attainments remain refined states of conditioned existence rather than the completion of the path.

PAA: You distinguish the four absorption Jhānas from the awareness Jhānas and suggest that the absorption states may be less necessary than the formless states and cessation. What is the experiential difference between these forms of Jhāna, and why do you give greater importance to the latter progression?

The distinction I make is primarily one of purpose rather than quality. The absorption Jhānas and the awareness Jhānas are both profound states of meditation, but they lead towards different applications. The Buddha consistently presents the path to liberation beginning with the formula, “Quite secluded from sensual pleasures, secluded from unwholesome states, one enters and dwells in the first Jhāna…” This standard description appears throughout the Nikāyas, for example in Samaññaphala Sutta, Mahāsakuludāyi Sutta and many other discourses. The emphasis is on seclusion from the hindrances, not on entering an artificially induced state of complete absorption.

From my perspective, the awareness Jhānas naturally mature into the four formless attainments, eventually leading towards cessation and direct insight into dependent origination. This is where the liberating wisdom described throughout the early Buddhist texts unfolds. The practitioner gradually relinquishes every level of attachment until the illusion of a permanent self is seen through directly. Liberation comes through wisdom arising from these experiences, not merely through entering increasingly refined states of concentration.

The absorption Jhānas, however, serve a different function. They correspond very closely to the classical yogic samādhis described by Patañjali in the Yoga Sutras. Here the mind becomes completely unified with a single object until subject and object temporarily disappear into complete concentration. This form of absorption is indispensable for many forms of advanced esoteric practice.

When working with the sacred letters, for example, the practitioner must eventually become the letter itself. The letter is no longer imagined or visualised but directly experienced as living consciousness. This complete identification allows the practitioner to access the full force of the letter and of combinations of letters within sacred formulae. It is from these states of total absorption that the extraordinary capacities described in many wisdom traditions begin to emerge.

In my understanding, abilities such as profound healing, the full activation of sacred formulas, and the highest magical operations require this degree of complete absorption. The same applies to traditions that describe phenomena such as materialisation, teleportation or other extraordinary manifestations of consciousness. Whether one accepts every traditional description literally or symbolically, the underlying principle remains the same. These capacities arise only when consciousness becomes completely unified with its object.

For this reason, I see the two developments as complementary rather than contradictory. If one’s goal is liberation, the awareness Jhānas, the formless attainments and cessation occupy the central place because they culminate in wisdom and freedom from suffering. If one’s goal is the practical application of sacred letters or advanced yogic and magical work, then the absorption Jhānas become indispensable because they provide the complete one pointedness through which such operations become possible.

PAA: You describe cessation as the mind shutting down and rebooting, after which it becomes apparent that there is no self, only impersonal processes. How can cessation be distinguished from unconsciousness, blankness, dissociation or a break in memory, and at what point does the insight into non-self arise?

Cessation is fundamentally different from unconsciousness, sleep, fainting, dissociation or simply losing awareness. In all of those conditions, ignorance remains intact. Consciousness may be absent or impaired, but there is no profound transformation in understanding when one returns. One simply resumes the ordinary perception of being a separate individual.

Cessation, as described in the early Buddhist tradition, is something entirely different. It is the temporary cessation of perception and feeling, reached only after the practitioner has mastered the formless attainments. When the process comes to an end, the mind resumes functioning, but it does not resume in exactly the same way. It is as though the entire cognitive process has been reset. The conditioned machinery of perception begins operating again, yet something fundamental has changed in how experience is understood.

The insight into non self does not occur during cessation itself, because there is no perception, feeling or mental activity present. It arises immediately upon emerging. At that moment, one directly observes dependent origination in operation. Instead of experiencing an independent observer standing behind experience, one sees only impersonal processes arising and ceasing according to conditions. Thoughts arise because of conditions. Feelings arise because of conditions. Perceptions arise because of conditions. Nowhere within this unfolding can a permanent owner, controller or separate self be found.

This is why the experience cannot be confused with a blank gap in memory. A lapse in consciousness tells you nothing. Emerging from cessation fundamentally alters your understanding of reality. The relief that follows is unlike any ordinary pleasant experience. It is the direct recognition that the burden of maintaining the illusion of a separate self has, even if only temporarily, disappeared.

From my perspective, even a brief direct experience of Nibbāna changes the practitioner forever. The early Buddhist texts associate the complete and irreversible realization of Nibbāna with arahantship, where all fetters have been abandoned. I would therefore distinguish between a temporary glimpse that profoundly transforms one’s understanding and the complete fulfilment of the path in which liberation has become irreversible.

Nibbāna should never be understood as annihilation, unconsciousness or non-existence. The Buddha consistently rejected both eternalism and annihilationism. It is neither the continuation of an individual self nor the destruction of an existing self. Likewise, the highest formless attainment, the sphere of neither perception nor non perception, should not be confused with a state of non-existence. It is an extraordinarily refined conditioned state that precedes cessation. Nibbāna itself lies beyond all conditioned experience and therefore cannot be adequately described through the ordinary categories of existence or non-existence, being or non being. It is known only through direct realization, and its hallmark is the complete ending of greed, hatred and delusion rather than the disappearance of consciousness in the ordinary sense.

PAA: You have said that the Jhānas and cessation completely transformed your personality and character. What concrete and lasting changes occurred that had not resulted from your earlier decades of Hermetic, yogic and meditative practice?

The change was not simply that I became calmer, more disciplined or more spiritually informed. Those qualities can develop through many systems. Hermetic training, yoga, mantra, concentration, ritual, energy work and decades of meditation can certainly refine the personality. They can create willpower, endurance, sensitivity, intuition and even extraordinary experiences. But they do not necessarily uproot the basic illusion that there is a separate self at the centre of experience.

This was the decisive difference. Earlier practice had developed capacities. The Jhānas and the movement towards cessation revealed the mechanism of identity itself. One can spend decades strengthening the mind, purifying the emotions, opening subtle perception, working with symbols, letters, energies and higher states, and still remain centred in the hidden assumption, “I am the one who is doing this.” That assumption may become more refined, more spiritual, more luminous, but it is still the false centre.

After deep Jhānic practice and the direct taste of cessation, the personality is no longer believed in the same way. Thoughts still arise, emotions still arise, habits still appear, but they are seen as conditioned processes rather than as “me” or “mine.” This is not a philosophical conclusion. It is a perceptual shift. The mind begins to see itself as weather rather than as owner of the sky. Anger, fear, ambition, pride, hurt and desire lose much of their solidity because they are no longer automatically woven into identity.

The concrete changes were very simple and very profound. Reactions became shorter. Emotional storms could no longer justify themselves for days or weeks. The need to defend a fixed image of myself weakened. Praise and blame lost much of their intoxicating power. Craving became easier to recognize at the point where it begins, not only after it has already taken possession of the mind. Fear of losing status, recognition or control became less convincing. Compassion became less sentimental and more natural because other beings were no longer perceived as entirely separate islands of existence.

This is what Nibbāna truly means in practice. It is not a mystical decoration added to the personality. It is not a trance, not a vision, not a magical power, not a heavenly realm and not a state of unconscious nothingness. Nibbāna is the ending of greed, hatred and delusion. It is the extinguishing of the fire that constantly fabricates suffering through craving and identification. Even a momentary contact with this dimension shows that liberation is not the improvement of the self, but freedom from the false perception that such a self exists independently in the first place.

This is why I make a clear distinction between magical attainment and liberation. Magic exists in many traditions. Tibetan Buddhism contains highly developed teachings on siddhis, subtle body practices, dream yoga, deity yoga, mantra, tummo and visionary realms. Theravāda texts also speak of psychic powers, recollection of past lives, the divine eye, the divine ear and other extraordinary capacities that may arise through concentration. Chan and Zen literature contains accounts of unusual powers and signs, even if the mature teachers usually warn against becoming fascinated by them.

So, the presence of magic does not prove liberation. A person may develop real abilities and still remain bound by craving, pride, fear, ambition and self-view. In fact, powers can become one of the most dangerous obstacles because they give the false self a spiritual kingdom to rule. The practitioner begins to think, “I can see, I can heal, I can travel, I can command, I can manifest.” The prison has become golden, but it is still a prison.

Liberation is an entirely different venture. It is not about gaining more control over reality. It is about seeing that the controller was never what it appeared to be. It is not about becoming a powerful spiritual personality. It is about the collapse of the delusion that personality is the final truth of being. It is not about entering higher realms, but about understanding the conditioned nature of all realms. It is not about commanding the forces of nature, but about ending ignorance, craving and clinging.

This is why the Jhānas and cessation transformed me in a way that earlier practice had not. Earlier systems had opened doors. They had given me tools, maps, disciplines and experiences. But the direct insight into non self-cut into the root. It revealed that the deepest suffering is not caused by the world alone, but by the mind’s constant appropriation of experience. “This is me. This is mine. This is what I am.” When that structure is seen directly, even briefly, a great burden falls away.

After that, spiritual practice can no longer be understood as self enhancement. One may still practice letters, formulas, meditation, yoga, ritual or healing, but the orientation has changed. These things are no longer performed to glorify the practitioner. They become expressions of wisdom, service and alignment. Without liberation, magic easily becomes another extension of desire. With right view, even extraordinary capacities are understood as secondary, conditioned and ultimately empty.

The most lasting change was therefore humility. Not the artificial humility of religious performance, but the humility that comes from seeing that the person one defended for a lifetime was only a process. There is still a human being, still a biography, still duties, relationships and work in the world. But the inner grip loosens. Life continues, yet it is no longer carried by the same heavy fiction of ownership. That is the beginning of real freedom.

PAA: You have said that you practise within a very small group where arahants “walk in and out,” sometimes with fewer than five people and never more than twenty-five. How are such attainments recognized, and why do you believe a small group can preserve the path more effectively than a large temple?

One of the defining characteristics of the early Buddhist tradition is that attainments are not publicly discussed or advertised. The Buddha repeatedly warned against conceit, attachment to spiritual identity and the subtle forms of craving that arise through recognition and status. A practitioner who genuinely understands the Dhamma has very little interest in announcing personal attainments. In healthy Buddhist communities, questions such as “Are you an arahant?” are generally considered inappropriate because they easily become nourishment for conceit rather than supports for liberation.

Within the small group in which I practise in Australia, we meet regularly for meditation, Dhamma discussions and retreats. The atmosphere is deliberately simple. There is no hierarchy built around personalities, no emphasis on titles, and no encouragement to compare one practitioner’s progress with another’s. The focus always returns to the Buddha’s training: virtue (sīla), collectedness (samādhi) and wisdom (paññā), culminating in the ending of greed, hatred and delusion.

For the advanced practitioner, however, certain things gradually become apparent without ever needing to be spoken. The development of deep Jhāna, the formless attainments and the direct knowledge arising from insight practice refine perception in ways that are difficult to describe. One becomes increasingly sensitive to the quality of another practitioner’s mind. This is not a matter of judging personalities or analysing behaviour. Rather, it concerns the absence or presence of grasping, conceit and identification. In the early discourses, the Buddha frequently points beyond external appearance to the underlying abandonment of the fetters (saṃyojana) and the destruction of the taints (āsava). Ultimately, liberation is measured by what has ceased, not by what has been acquired.

For this reason, attainments are rarely discussed openly. They do not need to be. When practitioners have cultivated sufficient wisdom and concentration, much can simply be known from within. Even then, such understanding is treated with great caution and humility. It is never used as a basis for authority or superiority. The Dhamma repeatedly reminds us that conceit can survive even after coarse forms of attachment have weakened.

The Buddha himself advised that the Dhamma and the Vinaya should remain the teacher after his passing. In Mahāparinibbāna Sutta he tells the monks that the teaching and discipline are to be their guide. This shifts attention away from charismatic individuals and back to direct practice and verification.

The early texts also describe the qualities of a kalyāṇa mitta, a noble or admirable friend. In Upaddha Sutta, when the Venerable Ānanda suggests that admirable friendship is half of the holy life, the Buddha replies that it is not half but the whole of the holy life. The importance lies not in numbers but in practising alongside people whose lives genuinely embody the Noble Eightfold Path.

A small group naturally supports this kind of environment. Everyone knows one another’s strengths and weaknesses. There is little opportunity to hide behind reputation or institutional status. Questions can be explored honestly, difficulties addressed directly and guidance given according to the needs of each practitioner. The emphasis remains on careful observation of dependent origination (paṭicca samuppāda), the cultivation of mindfulness (sati), collectedness (samādhi) and liberating wisdom (paññā).

Large monasteries and temples have preserved the Dhamma for centuries and have made an immeasurable contribution to the survival of the Buddha’s teaching. They fulfil an indispensable role by maintaining the scriptures, the Vinaya and the monastic tradition. Yet any large institution also faces practical challenges. Administration, public teaching, financial responsibilities and organisational structures inevitably require attention. A small practice community can often devote a greater proportion of its energy to direct meditation, continuous dialogue and the day to day application of the Dhamma.

Ultimately, liberation does not depend upon the size of the community but upon the sincerity of practice. Whether one practises alone, in a group of five or in a monastery of several hundred monks, the path remains the same. One abandons the five hindrances (nīvaraṇa), develops the seven factors of awakening (bojjhaṅga), cultivates the Noble Eightfold Path, and directly realizes the Four Noble Truths. Everything else is secondary. The true measure of a community is not its numbers, its buildings or its reputation, but whether it continues to produce practitioners in whom greed, hatred and delusion steadily come to an end.

PAA: You have said that there is ultimately no need to explain the Dhamma and that even the teaching itself must eventually be relinquished. At what stage does the teaching change from a necessary guide into another object of attachment, and how can someone avoid abandoning it prematurely?

The Dhamma is indispensable at the beginning of the path. Without right view (sammā diṭṭhi), one does not even know in which direction to practise. The Buddha repeatedly emphasized that right view is the forerunner of the Noble Eightfold Path. Before direct realization, the teachings function as a map. They point the practitioner towards ethical conduct (sīla), collectedness (samādhi) and wisdom (paññā). Without that guidance, the mind simply follows its habitual tendencies and mistakes conditioned experience for liberation.

However, the map is not the destination. The purpose of the Dhamma is not to produce scholars or philosophers but to lead directly to the ending of suffering. Throughout the Nikāyas, the Buddha encourages personal verification. “Come and see” (ehipassiko) is one of the defining qualities of the Dhamma. It is to be realized here and now (sanditthiko), experienced directly by the wise for themselves (paccattaṃ veditabbo viññūhi). The teachings are therefore provisional in the highest sense. They point towards reality but are never identical with reality itself.

This becomes completely clear at the stage of cessation. When perception and feeling cease and the practitioner subsequently emerges, dependent origination (paṭicca samuppāda) is no longer an intellectual doctrine. It is directly seen. The Four Noble Truths are no longer concepts to be contemplated. They become immediate experience. At that point, one does not merely understand the Dhamma. One sees the Dhamma itself operating as the very fabric of conditioned existence.

It is here that the relationship to the teaching fundamentally changes. Before realization, one studies the Dhamma. After direct realization, the Dhamma becomes visible. One sees that every thought, every feeling, every perception and every act of consciousness arises according to conditions and passes away according to conditions. The teaching is no longer something external that must be remembered. It has become the direct lens through which reality is perceived.

This is the point at which even attachment to the teaching must eventually be relinquished. The Buddha expressed this beautifully in the famous simile of the raft in Alagaddūpama Sutta. A person uses a raft to cross a dangerous river. Having reached the far shore, he does not continue carrying the raft on his head out of gratitude. He leaves it behind because it has fulfilled its purpose. The Buddha concludes that even the Dhamma should be understood in this way, let alone things contrary to the Dhamma.

This does not mean abandoning the teachings prematurely. That is a mistake made by many practitioners. Some hear that “there is nothing to attain” or “all teachings must be let go” and use these ideas to justify avoiding discipline, meditation or investigation. This simply becomes another manifestation of delusion. One cannot discard a raft before crossing the river.

The Dhamma ceases to function as an external guide only when it has become direct knowledge. Until then, study, reflection, meditation and continual application remain essential. The practitioner must cultivate mindfulness (sati), clear comprehension (sampajañña), the seven factors of awakening (bojjhaṅga), the Jhānas and insight into impermanence (anicca), unsatisfactoriness (dukkha) and non self (anattā). Only when these truths are directly realized does the need to conceptually hold onto the teaching naturally fall away.

Paradoxically, those who have truly realized the Dhamma usually become its greatest custodians. They no longer cling to words, doctrines or philosophical positions, yet they continue to teach because compassion (karuṇā) naturally expresses itself. The teaching is no longer defended as an ideology. It is simply offered as a skilful means (upāya) for those who have not yet crossed the river.

Ultimately, the Dhamma is neither a belief system nor a collection of ideas. It is the direct realization of the way things are. When that realization becomes complete, there is nothing left to defend, nothing left to believe and nothing left to abandon. The raft has served its purpose, and the practitioner stands on the further shore.

Unlocking the Letters

PAA: You recently described a friend as beginning to “unlock the letters,” after which manifestation, intuition, astral travel and other abilities began arising naturally. What does it actually mean to unlock a letter, and what changes demonstrate that this has occurred?

To understand what it means to unlock a letter, one must first move beyond the ordinary idea of language. In the Western Hermetic tradition, as well as in several ancient mystical systems, the sacred letters are not merely symbols or sounds. They are understood as fundamental principles of creation itself, the building blocks through which consciousness expresses and organizes reality. Every letter represents a universal principle, a particular quality of consciousness and a specific mode through which experience can arise.

Initially, a practitioner studies the letters intellectually. One learns their qualities, meditations and applications. This is useful, but it remains conceptual. At a deeper stage of practice, particularly when concentration becomes established through the Jhānas, the relationship changes completely. The practitioner no longer visualizes or imagines the letter. Instead, consciousness begins to resonate directly with the principle that the letter represents. The distinction between observer and symbol gradually disappears.

This is what I mean by unlocking a letter. It is not that the letter suddenly acquires power. Rather, the practitioner removes the inner obstructions that previously prevented direct participation in that aspect of consciousness. The potential was always present, but it remained dormant.

A useful analogy is the awakening of kuṇḍalinī. Traditional yoga describes dormant channels (nāḍīs) gradually becoming purified and opened. As this process unfolds, energy begins flowing naturally where previously there had been resistance. Likewise, some esoteric traditions describe the unfolding of the petals of the chakras, each opening revealing capacities that were already inherent but inaccessible. Nothing new is added. Something that was latent becomes functional.

The same principle applies to the sacred letters. Each unlocked letter opens another dimension of consciousness. The practitioner does not force new abilities into existence. Instead, previously hidden capacities emerge spontaneously because the corresponding principle has become directly accessible.

One of the first changes is often a profound increase in intuitive knowing. Decisions arise with remarkable clarity, not through analytical reasoning but through immediate recognition. Synchronistic events become more frequent, and manifestation appears less like an act of personal will and more like alignment with lawful processes already operating within reality.

As practice deepens, other capacities may arise naturally. Perception during meditation becomes increasingly refined. Dreams become exceptionally clear and meaningful. The transition into lucid dreaming or conscious experiences beyond the ordinary sensory framework may occur without deliberate effort. What many traditions describe as astral projection or subtle body exploration becomes progressively more accessible, not because it is being forced through technique, but because consciousness has become sufficiently liberated from exclusive identification with the physical body.

The same applies to healing, creativity and the application of sacred formulas. The practitioner discovers that the letters no longer feel like external tools but living realities that operate from within consciousness itself. Their effects become effortless because they are no longer being imposed by the personality. They unfold according to natural law.

This effortless quality is perhaps the clearest indication that a letter has genuinely been unlocked. Before that point, progress depends largely upon discipline, repetition and sustained concentration. Afterwards, the principle begins expressing itself spontaneously in everyday life. Just as a musician eventually stops thinking about individual notes and simply hears the music, the practitioner no longer consciously “uses” the letter. The letter has become an integrated aspect of consciousness.

This is also why inner purification remains indispensable. Attempting to unlock the letters while the mind is still dominated by craving, aversion and self-identification easily turns the practice into another expression of ego. The letters are not mechanical forces that can simply be manipulated. They become fully available only as consciousness itself becomes purified.

Ultimately, unlocking a letter is less about acquiring extraordinary abilities than about recovering dimensions of consciousness that have always existed. The abilities are secondary. They emerge as natural consequences of an increasingly unobstructed mind. In the same way that the Buddha describes wisdom, compassion and equanimity as natural expressions of liberation, many esoteric traditions understand the awakening of the letters as the gradual unveiling of capacities that have always belonged to consciousness itself, waiting only for the conditions that allow them to manifest.

PAA: Why should magical abilities begin appearing by themselves through the inner work of the letters? What connects letter practice and inner transformation with the spontaneous emergence of these faculties?

The fundamental assumption behind this approach is that extraordinary abilities are not artificial acquisitions but natural capacities of consciousness itself. This idea is not unique to one tradition. Variations of it appear throughout the ancient wisdom traditions. The Upanishads describe the realization of the Self as revealing capacities that were previously concealed by ignorance. The Yoga Sutras explain that the siddhis arise through deep concentration and transformation of consciousness. The early Buddhist discourses describe the abhiññās, the higher knowledges, as natural developments following profound cultivation of samādhi, while consistently warning that they are secondary to liberation. Across these traditions, the underlying principle remains remarkably consistent. The powers are not regarded as something imported into consciousness. They are understood as capacities that become accessible when the obscurations covering the mind are removed.

From this perspective, the inner work with the letters is not primarily a method of manufacturing abilities. It is a process of transforming consciousness itself. The sacred letters represent fundamental principles of reality. As the practitioner gradually embodies these principles rather than merely contemplating them intellectually, the structures of the conditioned personality begin to loosen. The false assumption of an isolated, independent self gradually weakens, and consciousness functions with increasing freedom.

This is where I would respectfully differ from many interpretations of the Hermetic tradition, particularly the way the work of Franz Bardon is often understood in practice. Many students conclude that magical development is essentially the accumulation of techniques. They spend thousands of hours attempting to perfect visualizations, elemental exercises, rituals and countless technical practices, believing that enough repetition will eventually manufacture magical abilities. The practitioner gradually builds what could be called a highly refined magical personality, yet the underlying structure of self-identification frequently remains intact.

In my experience, this is one of the great misunderstandings of the path. Training certainly has its place. Discipline, concentration and systematic practice are indispensable. However, they do not create the deepest capacities of consciousness. Rather, they prepare the conditions in which those capacities can reveal themselves.

The decisive factor is understanding. As right view (sammā diṭṭhi) matures, dependent origination (paṭicca samuppāda) is increasingly understood, and the illusion of a permanent self (anattā) is directly experienced, the barriers that previously constrained consciousness begin to dissolve. What appeared extraordinary from the perspective of ordinary perception gradually becomes natural because the mind is no longer functioning through the same limitations.

This is precisely why the higher knowledges described in the Buddhist texts are called abhiññā, higher knowledge, rather than supernatural powers. They arise from a different mode of knowing. Likewise, the siddhis of the yogic tradition are described as by-products of realization rather than the goal of practice. The traditions repeatedly caution practitioners not to become attached to these phenomena, because fascination with powers easily strengthens the very self-view that liberation seeks to dissolve.

The work with the letters follows the same principle. As each letter is genuinely unlocked, another aspect of consciousness becomes available. The practitioner discovers that intuition becomes clearer without trying to be intuitive. Healing becomes more effective without striving to heal. Manifestation becomes more effortless because it no longer originates from personal craving but from increasing harmony with universal principles. Experiences beyond ordinary sensory perception arise without being forced because consciousness has become less identified with the physical body alone.

The paradox is that these faculties become more accessible precisely when they cease to be the primary motivation for practice. As long as one practises in order to gain power, recognition or extraordinary experiences, craving continues to reinforce the illusion of a separate self. As that illusion weakens through wisdom, ethical conduct, deep meditation and the inner realization of the letters, the natural capacities of consciousness emerge of their own accord.

For this reason, I no longer see magical development as the construction of something new. I see it as the gradual unveiling of what consciousness has always been capable of. Practice removes the obscurations. Wisdom dismantles the false centre. The letters reveal the architecture of reality. What then emerges is not the achievement of a powerful individual, but the natural functioning of consciousness when it is no longer constrained by ignorance, craving and identification.

PAA: How can a practitioner test such abilities and distinguish genuine development from expectation, imagination, coincidence, selective memory or spiritual inflation?

This question assumes that genuine abilities require continual verification through external tests. While there is certainly value in remaining honest and avoiding self-deception, I have found that truly authentic developments rarely create the need for constant testing. When a faculty genuinely awakens, there is a clarity that accompanies it. It is not based on excitement, belief or hope. There is simply a knowing present within the mind itself.

The problem is that expectation, imagination, selective memory and spiritual inflation all arise from the same source, namely the false sense of self. The personality wants to become special. It wants confirmation that it is progressing, that it possesses something others do not, or that it has become spiritually advanced. This desire subtly colours perception until almost any unusual coincidence or vivid inner experience is interpreted as evidence of attainment.

This is precisely why the Buddha placed such emphasis on right view (sammā diṭṭhi) as the foundation of the Noble Eightfold Path. Without right view, even sincere practitioners can spend decades strengthening a more sophisticated version of the very illusion they intended to transcend. Wrong effort can reinforce craving. Wrong concentration can reinforce identification. Wrong interpretation can transform ordinary psychological experiences into imagined spiritual achievements.

The gradual dismantling of the false self is therefore the real safeguard against delusion. As understanding of dependent origination (paṭicca samuppāda) deepens and insight into non self (anattā) matures, the psychological need to prove one’s attainments steadily diminishes. The practitioner becomes less interested in possessing powers and more interested in understanding reality as it actually is.

In my experience, this is also why authentic abilities appear with remarkable simplicity. They do not announce themselves with emotional excitement or dramatic certainty. They simply function. There is no internal need to persuade oneself or others that something extraordinary has happened. The experience carries its own unmistakable clarity.

By contrast, imagination usually requires continual reinforcement. Spiritual inflation seeks recognition. Expectation constantly searches for confirmation. Coincidences are assembled into elaborate narratives because the personality wishes to feel chosen or exceptional. Genuine development does not depend upon such psychological mechanisms. In fact, it tends to dissolve them.

This is one of the great dangers within many esoteric traditions. Practitioners may spend years attempting to cultivate extraordinary abilities while the hidden motivation remains personal achievement. Eventually the old personality is replaced by what appears to be a spiritual personality. The language changes, the symbols change and the practices become more sophisticated, but the underlying identification remains intact. The ego has simply put on sacred robes.

This is why I believe right view, right effort (sammā vāyāma), right mindfulness (sammā sati) and right collectedness (sammā samādhi) cannot be separated. They protect one another. Concentration without wisdom can become fascination. Wisdom without ethical conduct remains intellectual. Practice without insight easily becomes self-improvement rather than liberation.

Ironically, the less concerned a practitioner becomes with proving abilities, the more reliable any genuine capacities become. The attention shifts away from phenomena and towards the ending of greed, hatred and delusion. If unusual abilities arise, they are understood as conditioned phenomena rather than as evidence of personal greatness. If they do not arise, nothing essential has been lost, because the purpose of the path has never been to become extraordinary.

Ultimately, the greatest test is not whether one can demonstrate unusual faculties. It is whether craving has diminished, whether reactivity has weakened, whether compassion has deepened and whether the illusion of a separate self continues to dissolve. The Buddha consistently measured progress by the abandonment of the fetters, not by the acquisition of powers. In that sense, liberation itself remains the only attainment that truly matters. Everything else, however remarkable it may appear, is secondary.

PAA: You have mentioned that a small group may form around Kerning practice. What preparation would be expected of its members, and how would the letter work be integrated with meditation, ethical development, right view and the wider path of liberation?

Since our last interview, my perspective has changed considerably. At that time, I believed there might be value in forming a small practice group centred around the Kerning letters. Since then, I have consciously departed from a particular Pansophical Kerning group with which I had previously been associated. That decision was not only based on personal disagreement but on what I came to recognize as a fundamental misunderstanding of the path itself within that group..

The greatest obstacle was not the letter practice. The letters themselves remain one of the most profound systems of inner transformation I have encountered. The obstacle was the framework through which they were being understood. It became increasingly apparent that some of the leading practitioners had become identified with spiritual status, esoteric knowledge and personal authority. Instead of dismantling the false self, the practice had gradually constructed a more refined spiritual identity around it.

From a Buddhist perspective, this is entirely understandable. Without right view (sammā diṭṭhi), even genuine practices can become incorporated into craving (taṇhā), clinging (upādāna) and conceit (māna). The practitioner may accumulate decades of experience, profound technical knowledge and impressive abilities, while the underlying process of identification remains fundamentally unchanged. The old ego simply becomes a spiritual ego.

This realization also changed my understanding of groups themselves. Every long-standing spiritual group gradually develops what many Western esoteric traditions describe as an egregore, a collective psychological and energetic structure. Such structures are not necessarily harmful. They can provide stability, encouragement and continuity. Yet they also carry considerable danger. Once collective identity becomes stronger than direct investigation, belief begins replacing observation. Loyalty begins replacing inquiry. Consensus begins replacing direct realization.

The Buddha repeatedly encouraged practitioners to verify the Dhamma through direct experience rather than through tradition, reputation or the authority of teachers. The path is described as ehipassiko, “come and see,” inviting direct verification rather than belief. Even the highest teachings ultimately have to be realized individually. No group, however sincere, can meditate on another person’s behalf or experience liberation for them.

For this reason, I no longer see any need to establish another Kerning group or to become part of one. Having completed my own work with the letters, I see their purpose differently than I did before. They are not the centre of the path. They are one expression of a much larger transformation of consciousness.

If someone wishes to practise the letters, I would still recommend exactly the same foundations I now consider indispensable. Ethical conduct (sīla) must come first. Without moral discipline, concentration becomes unstable and wisdom becomes distorted. This should be followed by guarding the sense doors (indriya saṃvara), continuous mindfulness (sati), cultivation of the Brahmavihāras, development of the Jhānas, the formless attainments, and insight into dependent origination (paṭicca samuppāda) and non self (anattā). Only within this framework does the work with the letters become truly transformative.

The letters themselves then cease to be techniques for acquiring power. They become direct expressions of wisdom. Each letter reveals another aspect of consciousness precisely because the mind has become sufficiently purified to recognize it. There is no need for elaborate organizational structures, initiatory hierarchies or exclusive memberships. The practice unfolds through one’s own direct realization.

Ironically, I have come to appreciate the Buddha’s approach far more deeply than I did years ago. He founded the Sangha as a support for practice, not as an institution built around personalities or esoteric status. The true refuge is not found in belonging to a particular school or lineage. It is found in the continual cultivation of wisdom, ethical conduct and meditation.

Ultimately, every practitioner must walk alone. Teachers can point the way. Spiritual friends (kalyāṇa mittā) can encourage and correct us. Communities can provide support and inspiration. But the dismantling of ignorance takes place only within one’s own mind. No collective belief, no egregore and no organization can accomplish that work.

For that reason, my focus today is no longer on creating groups or preserving organizations. It is on encouraging sincere practitioners to establish right view, cultivate the path laid down by the Buddha, and, where appropriate, integrate the work of the sacred letters into that wider framework of liberation. When the foundation is correct, everything else develops naturally. When the foundation is missing, even the most sophisticated esoteric system eventually becomes another form of attachment.

PAA: In our first interview, you said that you were still waiting to study more material on Alois Mailänder. Has your understanding of his work developed since then, and how do you now understand the relationship between Mailänder, Kerning and the inner alchemy missing from Bardon?

Since our first interview, my understanding of Alois Mailänder has become less concerned with collecting historical material and more focused on understanding the underlying principle of his approach. Rather than attempting to reconstruct his entire system, I have found it more valuable to examine the practical method that lies behind it and compare it with the direct experience gained through meditation and inner practice.

Today I approach this work through the combined framework of Nada Yoga, the Royal Art of Johann Baptist Kerning and Theravāda Buddhism, while drawing supporting principles from Daoism, Rosicrucian teachings, Western alchemy and the Christian Orthodox tradition of theosis. These traditions appear very different on the surface, yet they all point toward the same fundamental process of inner transformation. Each contributes an important piece to understanding consciousness, purification and liberation.

Mailänder’s system strikes me as remarkably simple, and that simplicity is one of its greatest strengths. Rather than constructing elaborate symbolic structures or complex magical hierarchies, it directs attention toward a practical inner process. In this respect, it shares something with Kerning’s work, where genuine understanding gradually unfolds through practice rather than intellectual speculation.

For me, the relationship between Mailänder, Kerning and the inner alchemy absent from Franz Bardon’s published work lies precisely here. Bardon provides an excellent introduction to systematic mental training, elemental equilibrium and the development of magical faculties. What remains largely absent is the direct path toward liberation from the illusion of the separate self. Kerning, understood through the lens of Buddhist practice and inner alchemy, gradually opens that missing dimension. The letters become instruments not merely for acquiring abilities, but for transforming consciousness itself.

Although I continue to study the available material on Mailänder, I also believe that many of those currently promoting his teachings have introduced significant methodological errors. In my view, these approaches often overlook the indispensable foundations of ethical development, right view, meditative purification and direct insight. Without these prerequisites, even a sound method can easily become another intellectual system or another form of spiritual identification. The value of Mailänder’s work, like Kerning’s, ultimately depends not on external interpretation but on the practitioner’s own transformation through disciplined practice.

AAORRAC and the Smallest Effective Practice

PAA: You have warned that the exercises in your AAORRAC book should be undertaken individually alongside the principal spiritual training rather than treated as a complete system in themselves. What was the main spiritual work that originally accompanied these exercises, and what function did the individual exercises serve within it?

The exercises presented in my AAORRAC book developed through time and originated largely from the teachings of various Rosicrucian schools and esoteric orders of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. They were developed by sincere practitioners who sought to preserve and transmit genuine spiritual knowledge. Nevertheless, I have come to the conclusion that many of these systems lacked a complete understanding of the deeper principles underlying inner transformation. In particular, they were generally unfamiliar with the sacred science of Nada Yoga, the advanced contemplative traditions of Tibetan Buddhism and Bön, the internal methods of Daoism, and the direct path described in the Theravāda suttas.

As a result, the individual exercises often became isolated techniques, detached from the wider framework of ethical purification, right view, meditative development and liberation that gives them their true purpose. Practices such as concentration, visualization, projection, aura perception or symbolic ritual can certainly develop particular faculties of the mind, but when they are pursued independently, they do not necessarily lead to freedom from craving, clinging and the illusion of a separate self.

This is why I have repeatedly emphasised that the AAORRAC exercises should never be regarded as a complete spiritual system. They are supplementary practices that can support certain aspects of development, but they must be integrated into a much deeper path of transformation. Without that foundation, they easily become ends in themselves, encouraging fascination with extraordinary experiences rather than genuine wisdom.

Today, I would not recommend that someone spend decades studying the often fragmented and sometimes distorted teachings found in later Theosophical, Anthroposophical or Rosicrucian literature. We live in a time where the original sources are widely available. The writings of Paracelsus, the Vedas, the Upanishads, the Theravāda suttas and the Tibetan sutras have all been translated into accessible languages. Likewise, authentic teachers from these traditions travel throughout the world and make direct instruction available to sincere students. Teachers such as Jigme Losel Wangpo in the Dzogchen tradition or Shi De Yang of the Shaolin lineage provide opportunities to study living traditions rather than relying solely on secondary interpretations.

For this reason, I regard the AAORRAC exercises primarily as historical and practical supplements rather than the core of one’s spiritual life. The central work should always be the transformation of consciousness itself through right view, ethical conduct, meditation and direct insight. When that foundation is firmly established, the individual exercises naturally find their proper place and function without becoming obstacles to the ultimate goal of liberation.

PAA: You have explained that these exercises do not necessarily need to be developed in their fullest or most elaborate form. A practitioner may work with only the smallest effective aspect of an exercise, obtain an initial result and still activate further progress. What is the principle behind this, and how can someone identify the essential core of an exercise without reducing it to something superficial?

The principle behind this is that genuine spiritual abilities are not produced by the exercises themselves. They arise naturally as understanding deepens and the mind is gradually transformed through direct spiritual practice. The exercises can help clarify certain principles, strengthen particular qualities of the mind or provide experiences that confirm one’s understanding, but they should never be mistaken for the path itself.

Many practitioners assume that increasingly elaborate techniques will produce increasingly profound results. My own experience has been almost the opposite. Once the essential principle of an exercise has been understood and a first genuine result has been obtained, endlessly refining the technique often adds very little. At that point, further progress comes primarily through continuing one’s meditation, cultivating wisdom and deepening direct insight rather than repeating or embellishing the exercise.

For this reason, I often encourage practitioners to discover the smallest effective aspect of an exercise. If that essential element is practised correctly and integrated into one’s daily spiritual development, it can be sufficient to unlock the understanding that the exercise was originally intended to convey. The purpose is not technical perfection but transformation of consciousness.

Identifying this essential core requires discernment. It cannot be reduced to simply doing less or taking shortcuts. Rather, it means recognising which aspect of the exercise genuinely changes the mind and which parts are merely supporting structures that were added to assist the practitioner. This discernment develops through experience, not through intellectual analysis alone.

Ultimately, the exercises in the AAORRAC tradition are best understood as signposts rather than destinations. They can deepen understanding, reveal certain principles and encourage further development, but the real work always remains the cultivation of right view, ethical conduct, meditation and direct insight. As these mature, many of the abilities sought through esoteric exercises emerge naturally as secondary consequences of inner transformation, rather than as goals pursued for their own sake.

PAA: You suggest that someone might practise until experiencing healing, an out-of-body state or another initial result and then leave the exercise alone. Why is this limited activation sufficient? How does the faculty continue developing through the main spiritual work and eventually emerge by itself when the practitioner is ready, without repeatedly training the original exercise?

The reason this limited activation is often sufficient is that these abilities are not the path itself. They are natural consequences of walking the path. Once an exercise has served its purpose by opening a particular faculty or demonstrating a principle through direct experience, repeatedly practising the same technique is often unnecessary. The practitioner’s time is better devoted to the principal work of ethical development, meditation, right view and the gradual transformation of consciousness.

This becomes particularly clear when considering experiences such as interdimensional travel. Many esoteric traditions teach elaborate methods of psychic projection, yet my own experience is that this capacity develops far more naturally through profound meditative experience, especially the fifth and sixth jhānas, than through repeatedly attempting projection exercises. As perception becomes increasingly refined, consciousness is no longer confined to ordinary sensory experience. Entirely new modes of perception begin to unfold spontaneously.

At that stage, the practitioner no longer attempts to force extraordinary experiences. Instead, perception itself changes. Access to other realms, dimensions and forms of nonphysical existence becomes a natural extension of consciousness rather than the product of a specific technique. What initially required effort gradually becomes effortless because the underlying conditions that make such experiences possible have been established through spiritual development.

This is why I encourage practitioners not to become attached to extraordinary abilities. Once an exercise has produced its initial result, it has already fulfilled much of its purpose. Continuing to deepen meditation and wisdom allows the corresponding faculty to mature organically. The exercise merely opened the door. Walking the path enables the practitioner to move through it.

I may eventually write a separate book devoted entirely to the art of interdimensional travel, as this subject deserves far more detailed treatment than can be given within the AAORRAC exercises. At present, however, I believe the material already presented is sufficient. The essential point is that these experiences cannot ultimately be manufactured through technique alone. As the practitioner’s perception gradually opens through genuine spiritual practice, these dimensions reveal themselves naturally, and exploration becomes an effortless consequence of inner transformation rather than an achievement to be pursued for its own sake.

PAA: You connect the proper use of these exercises with inner transformation, seeing dependent origination, passing through the Jhānas and eventually experiencing liberation. Were these contemplative elements explicitly part of the historical AAORRAC training, or is this a synthesis that became clear through your later Buddhist, yogic and Kerning practice?

No, these contemplative elements were not an explicit part of the historical AAORRAC training as I received and studied it. The Rosicrucian systems of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries contain many valuable practical exercises for concentration, visualization, symbolism and the cultivation of certain mental faculties, but they generally do not include a systematic path through the jhānas, nor do they present the Buddhist understanding of dependent origination and non self as the central framework of spiritual development.

This realization fundamentally changed my own approach. After years of practice, and particularly after experiencing the full range of yogic absorptions, the various samādhis described within the yogic traditions, and the awareness jhānas taught within Theravāda Buddhism, it became increasingly clear to me that the Western esoteric path, while valuable, remains incomplete. It develops many capacities of the mind but does not fully explain the transformation of consciousness that leads beyond identification with the personality itself.

The synthesis presented in my later work therefore arose from direct practice rather than from an attempt to combine traditions intellectually. As my understanding deepened through Theravāda Buddhism, Nada Yoga, Kerning, and other contemplative traditions, I began to recognize where the older Rosicrucian methods fit within a much larger framework. Many of the exercises retained their value, but their purpose became clearer when viewed as supporting practices rather than as the central path.

For this reason, I now place meditation, right view, ethical development, the cultivation of the jhānas, and the direct understanding of dependent origination at the heart of spiritual training. Within that context, the traditional AAORRAC exercises become useful supplementary methods that may assist development, but they no longer occupy the central position they once held in Western esoteric schools. The inner transformation that culminates in liberation is, in my view, the missing element that those systems only partially understood.

OARC, Secrecy and the Hidden Current

PAA: In your OARC article, you describe the order as a transitional ancestor of the later AAORRAC current. Is this connection based on direct organisational succession, shared initiates, identifiable practices, surviving documents or a broader continuity within continental Rosicrucianism? What do you believe was actually transmitted?

I have gradually come to regard questions of organisational succession as being of far less importance than they first appear. Within many esoteric orders, succession is often treated as a matter of historical legitimacy or institutional authority. In practice, however, these questions frequently become political rather than spiritual. Holding the office of Grand Master or belonging to a recognised lineage does not necessarily imply a profound understanding of the teachings themselves or the direct realization of what those teachings are intended to produce.

My own experience has been that the practical exercises found within these traditions were not created by isolated organisations working independently. They were developed, refined and transmitted by individuals who themselves had studied across a remarkable range of traditions. Many practitioners belonged simultaneously or successively to several Rosicrucian, Hermetic and initiatic schools while also studying Eastern systems directly. Within a single lodge it was not unusual to encounter members who had received instruction from organisations such as the Society of the Inner Light, Builders of the Adytum, the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, Martinist organisations, AMORC, Saraswati Yoga lineages, Tibetan Buddhist teachers, Theravāda monks and Daoist masters. The knowledge each person carried reflected decades of study across multiple traditions rather than exclusive loyalty to one organisation.

For this reason, I believe the real continuity is not primarily organisational but experiential. What was transmitted was less the formal succession of an order than an accumulated body of practical methods, contemplative insights and symbolic frameworks that individual practitioners carried with them throughout their lives. These were continually refined as new understanding emerged, and the resulting body of knowledge naturally found expression within whichever order or fraternity those individuals happened to belong to at the time.

When I refer to OARC as a transitional ancestor of the later AAORRAC current, I therefore mean a broader continuity of ideas, practices and practitioners rather than claiming a simple institutional succession supported by an uninterrupted chain of documents or offices. The transmission occurred principally through experienced individuals who integrated material from many different schools and passed on what they had found to be genuinely effective.

Ultimately, I believe that no single order possesses a monopoly on spiritual knowledge. Every authentic tradition has preserved part of the picture. The task of the modern practitioner is not to become bound to one organisation or its historical claims, but to understand the underlying principles that unite these traditions and verify them through direct experience.

PAA: You describe secrecy as spiritual containment, but you have also pointed to the political persecution faced by practitioners such as Bardon. How much of Western esoteric secrecy arose because the practices required protection and containment, and how much developed because practitioners themselves faced genuine political and personal danger?

For me, the deepest meaning of secrecy has never been the concealment of information from other people. The true secret is within. Interestingly, the German word Geheim can be understood as pointing toward what is inward and hidden, that which belongs to the inner home of consciousness. In that sense, the greatest mysteries cannot truly be written down or explained. They can only be realized through direct experience. This is reflected in the famous saying from the Dao De Jing: “The Dao that can be spoken is not the eternal Dao.” The essential knowledge is experiential rather than intellectual.

From this perspective, much of the traditional secrecy surrounding Western esotericism served as a form of spiritual containment. Certain practices only become meaningful when the practitioner has developed the ethical foundation, mental stability and insight required to understand them correctly. Without those prerequisites, techniques are easily misunderstood, distorted or pursued for the wrong reasons. The secrecy was therefore intended not simply to hide knowledge but to preserve its proper context.

At the same time, there have undoubtedly been historical periods in which esoteric practitioners faced genuine persecution because their ideas or activities conflicted with prevailing religious or political authorities. In such circumstances, discretion was also a practical necessity. Throughout European history, many esoteric groups adopted private methods of transmission partly to protect both their teachings and their members.

For my own work, the primary reason for withholding certain subjects is not organisational secrecy but the recognition that some material cannot be adequately communicated outside the broader framework of inner development. There are areas of practice, such as my current reflections on interdimensional travel, portals or the symbolic use of mirrors, that I have deliberately chosen not to explore in detail in my published books. My view is that presenting such material without the necessary experiential foundation would invite misunderstanding and distract from the central work of spiritual transformation.

Ultimately, I believe the greatest mystery has never been a hidden ritual or an unpublished manuscript. It is the transformation of consciousness itself. Once that transformation begins, many teachings that once appeared secret become self-evident through direct experience. The real esoteric tradition has always pointed inward, because that is where the deepest knowledge is discovered.

PAA: The older orders selected very small numbers of people and often concealed an inner circle within a larger outer organisation. What qualities made someone suitable for the deeper work, and how could such secrecy avoid becoming a shield for false claims, unhealthy authority or abuse?

My experience with inner orders, including circles such as the Chevaliers de la Rose Croix and Martinist groups, is that many members can belong to an organisation for decades without ever realizing that smaller circles exist in which the practical work described only theoretically in the monographs is actually undertaken. Membership, rank or years of service alone do not automatically provide access to these groups. The decisive factor has traditionally been the perceived readiness of the individual practitioner rather than formal advancement through an organisational hierarchy.

From my perspective, the reason for maintaining such smaller circles was not primarily exclusivity but the practical requirements of advanced spiritual work. Practices intended to transform consciousness require an atmosphere of trust, discipline and inner stability. When working with profound contemplative states or other advanced practices, the quality of the participants and the environment become far more important than the number of people involved. A group composed of practitioners with shared commitment, ethical conduct and mental stability creates what I would describe as a pure vibrational field that supports deeper work and minimizes unnecessary distraction.

At the same time, I also recognize the danger that secrecy can become a shield for exaggerated claims, unhealthy authority or abuse. Any system that relies solely on hidden knowledge or unquestioned hierarchy is vulnerable to these problems. For that reason, I believe the legitimacy of any inner circle should never rest on secrecy itself but on the observable character of its members, the ethical quality of their conduct and the genuine transformation evident in their lives. Authority should arise from wisdom, humility and direct experience rather than from titles, grades or claims of exclusive access.

Ultimately, I have come to believe that the most important qualification for deeper work is not membership in a particular order but the cultivation of right view, ethical discipline and mature contemplative practice. Without those foundations, even the most carefully guarded teachings remain little more than interesting ideas. With them, the essential principles become accessible regardless of organisational affiliation. In that sense, the true inner circle is defined less by institutional boundaries than by the level of inner transformation shared by those who participate in the work.

Completing the Path

PAA: Bringing these elements together, how do you now understand the complete sequence of the path—from Bardonian training and the awakening of the letters through right view, the Brahmavihāras, Jhāna, the formless states, cessation, inner alchemy and liberation?

When I first encountered Western esoteric training, I understood the path primarily as one of developing the mind, refining character and awakening latent human faculties. Franz Bardon’s system provided a clear and systematic introduction to concentration, elemental equilibrium, imagination and disciplined practice. The work with the letters later revealed another dimension, showing how consciousness itself could be refined through the direct experience of sound, vibration and inner perception. These stages were invaluable, but they eventually revealed themselves as preparatory rather than final.

As my practice matured through the study of Theravāda Buddhism, it became clear that the true purpose of spiritual training is not the acquisition of extraordinary abilities but the complete ending of suffering. The path begins with right view, seeing that all conditioned phenomena arise and cease according to causes and conditions, without an enduring or independent self behind them. From this understanding arise right intention, ethical conduct and the gradual purification of the mind.

The cultivation of the Brahmavihāras softens the heart, weakens ill will and prepares the mind for deep collectedness. As concentration matures, the jhānas arise naturally, bringing increasing tranquility, clarity and freedom from the hindrances. Beyond them, the formless attainments reveal progressively subtler dimensions of experience, culminating in the complete stilling of mental activity. Yet even these refined states are not the final goal. They remain conditioned phenomena, to be understood with wisdom rather than clung to.

Through sustained mindfulness and direct insight, dependent origination becomes evident in immediate experience. Craving, clinging and becoming are seen as conditioned processes rather than personal possessions. As this understanding deepens, attachment to all conditioned experience gradually falls away. The mind inclines toward the signless, the deathless and finally toward the cessation of craving itself.

From this perspective, what I once described as inner alchemy is nothing other than the complete transformation brought about by abandoning greed, hatred and delusion. It is not the construction of a higher self, nor the perfection of subtle bodies, but the ending of identification with all that is conditioned. The false sense of ownership dissolves, and with it the suffering that depends upon it.

The various faculties that may emerge along the way, whether unusual perceptions, profound healing, or other extraordinary experiences, are secondary. They may arise as natural consequences of a purified and collected mind, but they are neither the measure of progress nor the purpose of the training. The noble path does not culminate in becoming an accomplished magician, mystic or occultist. It culminates in liberation.

The goal, as it is understood in the Theravāda tradition, is Nibbāna: the complete cessation of greed, hatred and delusion, the ending of craving, the realization of the unconditioned, and the freedom that is no longer shaken by birth, ageing, sickness or death. This is the fulfilment of the path, and everything else, however fascinating or extraordinary, is meaningful only insofar as it supports that realization.

PAA: What is the final result of this complete path? How would its completion be visible in the character, conduct and consciousness of a practitioner rather than merely through claims of extraordinary experience or magical ability?

The final result of the path is not the accumulation of extraordinary experiences or the mastery of unusual abilities. It is the complete liberation of the mind from greed, hatred and delusion. Everything else is secondary. Psychic phenomena, healing abilities or other remarkable experiences may arise during practice, but they are neither the measure nor the completion of the path.

In my experience, the completion of the path becomes evident primarily through the character of the practitioner. There is an unmistakable absence of craving, fear, pride and attachment. Their conduct is naturally ethical, compassionate and effortless, not because they are following rules but because the causes of unwholesome action have been abandoned. They no longer seek recognition, authority or spiritual status, and there is nothing left to defend as a personal identity.

The greatest transformation is found in consciousness itself. The practitioner no longer experiences reality through the habitual framework of a separate self. Dependent origination is directly understood, and the illusion of ownership over thoughts, feelings and perceptions has dissolved. The peace that remains is not dependent upon external circumstances or altered states of consciousness. It is stable, unconditioned and free.

It is surprisingly easy to recognize this when one has reached a similar depth of practice. Once a practitioner has themselves passed through the eight jhānas and directly experienced cessation, they possess a frame of reference that cannot be acquired intellectually. In the presence of someone who has genuinely completed the path, there is an immediate recognition. It is not based upon miracles, impressive teachings or claims of attainment. It is simply obvious and unmistakable, because the quality of mind expresses itself naturally in every aspect of that person’s presence, conduct and way of being.

For this reason, I have become increasingly cautious of judging spiritual attainment by reports of visions, psychic powers or magical accomplishments. Such experiences may occur at many stages of development and, by themselves, prove very little. The true measure of the path is the ending of suffering, the abandonment of craving and the unshakable peace that manifests in everyday life. That is the hallmark of genuine liberation and the final fruit toward which the entire path is directed.

PAA: Erwin, we would like to thank you for doing this second interview. I felt our discussions very much deserved a wider audience. Many thanks.

Books by Erwin

About the Author

Perseus Arcane Academy

Founder and Director · Perseus Arcane Academy

James is the founder and director of Perseus Arcane Academy, an online school and publishing platform offering courses, interviews and educational resources on Franz Bardon, Hermeticism, meditation, internal arts, ceremonial magic and related esoteric traditions.

MeditationInternal ArtsFranz Bardon System