Religion exalts mystery as an unknowable secret that must be sealed in glass like the corpse of an enchanted princess and fearfully worshipped from afar. Initiation, on the other hand, requires direct participation and demands each of us to smash the casket and press mad lips to mystery, wooing her as a lover who will offer up her treasurers in a succession of sweet surrenders. This she will do, but only in exact ratio to our evolving ability and worthiness to receive them.

It is the profoundest of cosmic ironies. The divine power, our true spiritual essence, does not achieve perfection until it hits the 'rock' bottom of the cosmos - the dense and crude earth. It remains imperfect until the moment of entombment for the simple reason that until that dark nadir is reached the experiential adventure of existence remains incomplete, and Self is not yet endowed with the entire spectrum of the light of consciousness - from spirit to matter - from the highest high to the lowest low.

Make no mistake about it, magick is an art form, and every true magician is an artist.

I eat too much. I drink to much. A greedy selfish such-n-such. But when I wrap my turban on my mind is clear, I'm 'Baba Lon'.

Do I think I'm a holy man? Sometimes.

You're certainly not alone in your megalomania. Everyone feels that way-and for good reason. Because it's true!

Spirits are as real as the powers they personify.