Egregores: The Occult Entities That Watch Over Human Destiny - Mark Stavish 2018
Personal Accounts of Disengaging from an Egregore
Appendix
It is very clear that many people have positive experiences with various organizations and their attendant egregores. However, at some point this may change. For the sake of comparison we have provided several examples of individuals who extracted themselves from three very different spiritual organizations. These examples are dramatic and have been chosen for this very quality. It is up to each reader to compare the statements of the following people with their own personal experiences to see if there is anything that may be of value to them in better understanding their own spiritual journey.
“THE GREATER THE ESCHATON, THE TIGHTER THE SCREWS OF THE EGREGORE”
Former member of a Tibetan Buddhist organization
My experience with a well-respected Tibetan Buddhist group ended after twenty-seven years of involvement. I had joined only a few years after the group started, when it was small and intimate, and when things were being done in a “yogic fashion.” Its philosophical emphasis was on what is often called non-duality and one’s personal and direct experience of it. I was involved in transcribing oral presentations, editing books, and even some ghostwriting. Most importantly, I was on very close personal terms with one of the head teachers, a native-born Tibetan, something critical in old-school lineages.
As the organization grew, the inherent missionary ambitions of Buddhism expressed themselves powerfully. This involved the organization taking on more projects, particularly in India and elsewhere. As this happened the organization’s tone began to change, with a greater emphasis placed on exoteric Buddhism and domestic and foreign building projects—including temples, stupas, and even shrines—along with the needed attendant training and support of monks and nuns in India and punctilious rules following eclipsed non-duality.
From the beginning of my exploration of Buddhism, I maintained a long and extended study of publications by well-respected Tibetologists, who were themselves sympathetic to the traditions. It became clear that there were disconnects and schisms between what the teachers were saying about the history and doctrines and how they actually developed. Along with the building projects that the organization undertook came an increasing insistence and fixation on Shakyamuni as sole architect of this tradition. Total acceptance and belief in Shakyamuni as the source of all things “Buddhist” was required, and no deviation was accepted. To do otherwise was viewed as a lack of faith, understanding, and even could be viewed as rendering the practitioner “worthless” or “unworthy” of the teachings.
The history of polemics against the old school of Tibetan Buddhism describes it as an extremely eclectic and heterodox body of doctrine—much of which is patently non-Buddhist. Emphasis on Shakyamuni as the source of all nine levels of Tibetan Buddhist teachings was simply disingenuous. In fact, the idea of Shakyamuni as a great innovator was itself open to considerable debate. When Buddhism is compared to the Upanishadic-Vedic culture that predated and was contemporaneous with him, it becomes clear that Shakyamuni was not the great innovator and cultural rebel that we are told he was. Scholars of Indian religious and philosophical history see him as another teacher within the matrix and not as a unique figure. In fact, he courted royal favor with enthusiasm to raise funds for his own building projects—monasteries and temples. All he did was change the formatting of the essential message, which was the same: the purpose of life is to become enlightened.
Then there was the fine-sounding rhetoric pertaining to the absolute divinity/perfection of the universe right here and right now. In point of fact, Buddhism draws, maintains, and enforces a clear-cut hierarchical and often condescending distinction between itself and everything else. With this is the assumption that one will happily carry on this “family business” of “planting the triumphant banner of THE dharma worldwide.” There will be no innovations, because the teachings have been revealed perfectly, transmitted perfectly, and will always be perfect. If you cannot do this, or if your life journey takes you elsewhere, then it is clear that you are not ready for these teachings. Or you may have some qualities that are lacking—faith is usually the answer—and as an unworthy vessel perhaps, in your next life, you may be better equipped to spread the dharma—if in fact you even encounter it.
This was very different from what I had encountered in Indian philosophy expressed in the Bhagavad Gita, where each individual was said to have his or her own dharma or purpose, and that it was better “to die following your own dharma than to thrive with another’s dharma.” Here, in Tibetan Buddhism, there was not a multiplicity of dharmas—not one for each person—but one: the Buddha dharma.
Such investigations and conclusions were not particularly countenanced but also considered as close as one could get to blasphemy in Buddhism. Then one day I was introduced to this idea of egregores and was told, “Lama’s vision is not and does not have to be your vision. You can have your own vision about your own life and what you want it to become.” While this was really quite obvious, here I was at fifty years of age having a crisis about my spiritual path. I needed something that was not so confining and culturally conditioning. As my awareness grew I realized that I needed something that was not so tied to this grand scheme of enlightenment—and that my personal enlightenment was not in fact in some way tied to the growth and success of this or any organization. But in truth, my personal relationship with my spiritual preceptor over time was creatively conflated with the larger missionary objectives being exposed.
I respected the accomplishments of the lama and all that he had done for me, but I did not share the aspirations of a worldwide dharma and had no desire to participate in a worldwide movement at the cost of my own self-awareness. I served him, not the mission, out of respect and love, and yet the mission was becoming the entire focus of all activities.
The more I questioned, even as I continued to serve, the harder it became to be “a good practitioner.” The reason for this was that while the rhetoric defined a good practitioner in terms of actual practice, increasingly it was clear that a good practitioner was one who was a valuable and effective functionary of the cause—the egregore.
If you chose to manifest your compassion as constantly mandated by Buddhist institutionalization in any manner other than direct material support of the institution, it was deemed to be inferior. Mandated practices for directing your compassion for all “sentient beings” are very specific, and what is left out is clearly designated either by inference or direct statement as being unimportant.
The practice known as Confessions of the White Stainless King gives a correcting mechanism for all ideas and practices that deviate from the accepted behavioral and doctrinal norms. For me, despite claims of not being a religion, the fact is, Buddhism (and Tibetan Buddhism in particular) is an organized, hierarchical structure requiring total submission—all in a pleasant manner, with a smile, and in a subtle and suggestive manner—but submission all the same.
When, after thirty years, the first Westerners were named as lamas (teachers), we were told to have unquestioning deference to them. And yet, to many of us who had been there from the beginning, these three lamas, who clearly had zeal for the mission, did not have spiritual depth.
When I began to examine more closely how the teachings were being presented, I also became aware of the importance of this, as one was part of the Bodhisattva Army that would be victorious against the “barbarians” (Muslims) at the end of the Kali Yuga (Age of Iron). This was a critical doctrine in the various schools of Tibetan Buddhism in general and in the Kalachakra teachings in particular. This apocalyptic notion was not dissimilar to other versions I had heard from various Christian and New Age groups, and it seemed that “the more dramatic the eschaton, the tighter the screws of the egregore.” As I was being held on to ever more tightly, it was clearly in service to the cause, to be a soldier in the future spiritual army, but not so that I would come to my own self-awakening. Increasingly service to the cause was all that really mattered, as that is what was asked for, emphasized, recognized, and rewarded.
So, after twenty-five years, I extracted myself. It was not easy and it still is not at times, for I had built a life around it, and leaving my spiritual father was the hardest thing for me to do.
After two and a half years I can reflect and say that it truly was like undergoing the four stages of grief along with a do-it-yourself deprogramming course. There are many reasons why what we were involved in was called the Golden Chain Lineage, and possibly this was the unspoken one. In the end I felt that my personal growth was being compromised and that this was clearly a spiritual corporation whose survival and growth was more important than that of any individual save its leader. What cannot be stressed enough from my experience is that the egregore is profound. Simply thinking about and sharing my experiences is liberating and allows me to be free of its influence for good.
“IT WAS LIKE SOMETHING OUT OF H. P. LOVECRAFT!”
Former Member of a Worldwide Initiatic Fraternity
My experience with egregores was to some degree terrifying. It was when it all came undone that I began to understand that something tangible, but of a psychic nature, had been implanted in me. The death of the grand master was a surprise to many, despite his declining health, recent hospitalization, and a lifetime of bad habits—smoking among them. Their surprise demonstrated to me that those with whom I was working simply were not paying attention. Something else was clouding their ability to see what was really going on.
But this is not uncommon in many organizations; I saw it in several religious movements I had been involved with, and even in day-to-day relationships. This was different though because, despite my wishes to the contrary, I was the acknowledged heir apparent of the domestic branch of a well-known international initiatic order with an impressive pedigree going back two centuries. The grand master had often stated a certain displeasure with how things were turning out. Specifically that—despite thirty years of dedication to the cause—the order had never been able to get more than a handful of lodges operating, and by the time of his passing it would be down to one. There was the usual problem of schism and pedigree-chasing that has plagued twentieth-century Western esoteric movements, but this was something more.
I noticed that over the previous few years upward of 80 percent of the officers of the order died before reaching the age of sixty-five, and from unusual and debilitating blood diseases. If we included the general membership, this number was still a staggering 20 percent. One of the more peculiar cases was that of a young woman who had been the number one recruit for several years. It was discovered that she had an extremely rare genetic blood disease that interfered with her pregnancy.
While I was not present for the passing of the grand master, his time of death was noted by those in attendance. At the moment he died I felt a violent illness and pain in my chest, as if something was being ripped out. It was severe enough that I considered paying a visit to the emergency room. Apparently I was not alone in this experience. “Recruit number one” had the same experience as well, and as a medical professional she had also considered a late-night visit to the emergency room. This was then followed by several days of strange dreams, the need to vomit, heart palpitations, a burning sensation in the solar plexus moving in to the heart and rushing out my hands, and an acute asthma attack (which I have not experienced in more than thirty years).
Since the funeral, which I was unable to attend, my health has returned to normal and my dreams have stabilized. Based on my experiences with other esoteric movements, I believe that what occurred during the period immediately following the death of the grand master was a direct result of the psychic influences of the egregore that had been carefully cultivated for more than two centuries, and its relationship to the officers and members of that particular branch of the organization. This notion was reinforced by the fact that when I took down the framed initiation certificate from the wall of my temple, I noticed a palpable lightness in my house. I have since burned the exceptionally beautiful black robe given to me by a fellow member who died from cancer soon after trying to start an independent lodge. (His goal had been to splinter from the mother order and join with a schismatic group in the event that the grand master should die or suffer some form of mental fatigue.)
Of the lodge that I was in, everyone except me came to a strange fate. One, an immensely talented, strong, and clear individual, lost a fantastic job opportunity in the artistic field after moving across the country to pursue it. Another lost his job at the United Nations, ended up being transferred four hundred miles away, and couldn’t sit in the east in his lodge as he had hoped. Another member died of multiple horrible blood cancers. He was recently retired and had spearheaded the chapter. I watched him die choking on his own bodily fluids when the dialysis ceased to function only two years later. He was in agony, fearful, and heavily drugged. Another member was looking at thirty years in prison for embezzlement. He was found not guilty. He prayed constantly and is a true man of faith. Then there is me. I have been spared through no grace or skill of my own. I attribute it to constant prayer, a loving wife who steered me back to sane choices, and the love and grace of God.
“DO NOT CALL UP THAT WHICH YOU CANNOT PUT DOWN!”
The Strange Case of Charles Dexter Ward
The order that I was involved with, once upon a time, was set up with a nationwide series of Golden Dawn—style temples, which can really be conceived of as so many schools. Each school was administered by three people: a Cancellarius in charge of examination, a Praemonstrator in charge of education, and an Imperator in charge of the artistic direction and overall vision. All three had specific roles in the ceremonies of the school and all of them used inner mystical techniques, during the work, of introducing students to each degree of the school.
As mentioned, the Imperator directed the vision of the school, so this person had a lot riding on them. There were also Imperators that acted as agents at large of the organization, not necessarily tied to individual schools, helping wherever their talents were called for. The Imperators were in turn guided and instructed by a single person order-wide: a Chief. The Chief’s main job was to act as ambassador for entities called “the Secret Chiefs,” so-called because (1) they were the guiding forces legitimizing the school’s existence and (2) only the Chief had contact with them. They were, at best, literally spirits directing the school, and at worst, figments of the imagination of the Chief. The best way to describe the Secret Chiefs was that they were aspects of the unconscious of the Chief, whether or not they had any objective existence.
Needless to say, the Chief was necessarily an intuitive person, and their work as seer for a school like this made them even more so. But what was not generally understood about the Chief working with this particular school was the nature of his involvement with the occult. It all started in the 1970s, if I remember these conversations clearly. Simply put, the Chief originally had no involvement with the occult at all and was unfortunately introduced to the world of spirits through a complete psychotic break. He described it as a sudden explosion of light coming out of his head. He was cataleptic for about a month and was briefly institutionalized. It is unknown as to how he eventually regained his mobility, but he eventually recovered and happened to take along with him an extraordinary capacity for dissociated states. This sounded very much like what Carl Jung and Joseph Campbell described as a shamanic illness, or precursor to some kind of awakening.
Due to his admittedly amazing talents for communicating with spirits, witnessed by myself firsthand more than once, he gradually developed an entourage of occultists around him. His favorite method of communication was via a Ouija board, but really he was an almost completely open medium, without requiring the use of any tool.
The Chief eventually made contact with a group of spirits who were interested in pursuing work with a Golden Dawn—style temple structure, with the spirits themselves as the directors. In other words, the spirits would become the Secret Chiefs. The individual spirits changed every few years, but all arrived and departed around the general theme of establishing an occult school. His original entourage then became the first generation of Imperators. It should be stressed that the spirits themselves endorsed the Chief as someone who would convey their teachings without alteration.
But unusual though the Chief ’s talents were, other aspects of his personality were undeveloped and infantile. In many ways, as a result of his mental illness, he had the discipline and ethics of an eight-yearold child. The best way to describe the effect of his mental illness was that the boundaries between his conscious and unconscious selves were either comparatively thin or nonexistent, and his personality had very little strength to resist anything unconscious. His position as monarch of something as flimsy and ill-defined as a “spiritual school” gave him a degree of autonomy that could be nothing short of terrifying.
There were outbursts of rage, confusion, or just plain old raving. Lust was a constant problem; he would attempt to seduce any woman who came near him. There was one report of rape, and another of molesting a teenager.
This put the entire school and the Imperators in a terrible situation: Would they simply shut down this school that they had spent decades building up? Would they “depose” this Chief and thereby lose contact with the Secret Chiefs?
Some Imperators invented a third option: establish contact with the Secret Chiefs themselves and ignore the Chief without actually ousting him. He had grown older, his psychiatric medication kept him a bit more stable, and he had since married someone who tended to keep him grounded.
But this contact by the Imperators had to happen outside of the Chief ’s knowledge. Communication with the Secret Chiefs was his only source of influence; he was not a strong user of the techniques of the school otherwise, and he would never broach a threat to his position.
The first contact by an Imperator with the Secret Chiefs was done by a very talented, secretive prodigy of the Chief’s. (I think that this happened sometime during the 1980s. Although contact work was always done in some way by that first generation, Secret Chief contact was reserved for the Chief alone.) This prodigy then slowly, carefully, secretly trained the other Imperators. This all happened against the original wishes of the Secret Chiefs, who seemed to recognize the need for this action.
This, we hoped, would ensure that we as individuals, and the school in general, would survive the more mad reveries of the Chief. But as it turned out the nature of the Secret Chiefs and the egregore that they formed was a major contributor, not just to the mental illness of the Chief, whom they had first contacted, but to the corruption and eventual destruction of the school as a whole. I believe that a few factors were involved here.
1. The Secret Chiefs, who had formed the egregore, were relentlessly demanding of superhuman effort. They invented techniques like staying for days inside closets and whipping recruits. The sheer difficulty of obeying the Secret Chiefs dissuaded many aspirants from continuing. People simply burned out. The few left were frightening zealots, making graduation from the school unattractive.
2. Contact with Secret Chiefs was a coveted prize for some people and gave access to a lot of techniques that were otherwise unknown. With that contact came power, and without humanizing elements like nurturing and basic mental hygiene, the power made people maniacal and cruel. (Given this effect on people who were mentally stable, one can only imagine the effect on a person recovering from a mental illness.)
I hope that this little story helps anyone who is aspiring to head any spiritual organization to understand the kinds of forces that may be at play and the need to exercise basic wisdom and common sense. Just because the spirits want someone in charge does not mean that you are obliged to listen to them. Remember, you are in charge of your spiritual path, not spirits, not Chiefs, and not Imperators.
As a postscript, I’d like to add that the methods used by the group were incredibly effective in inducing mystical states of consciousness but had the terrible side effect of moderate to total brainwashing.