Part I: Identifying Dualistic Thinking
When we talk about dualism in the context of RC, we often think of it in relation to religions. It is true, that in history, some theologies have maintained a doctrine where reality, or the cosmos, is ruled by two basic, opposed, and irreducible figures that account for all existence. This type of dualism is sometimes interpreted as a view where spirit is opposed to matter or the divine is opposite to nature. However, there are other highly influential concepts behind dualism, such as René Descartes’ mind–body dualism, wherein the non-physicality of the mind’s activities is distinct and separable from the tangible, physical world. In today’s rational, results-driven, and materialistic world, we are likely to find examples of this mind-body dualism rampant in many areas of life.
One of the problems with dualism is that it creates separation in a world we might intuitively expect to be unified in a profound and meaningful way. Despite this intuition, the habit of living life as an externally-imposed yet internally-driven experience of dualism creeps up time and again. It happens each time we position spirit against mind, mind against body, or body against spirit.
When we think of spiritual fulfillment or completion, we often overlook the value ourselves as a whole being, focusing instead on individual aspects that naturally align with our character. Yet, as human beings, we are composed of these various faculties. Understanding the influences that shape us begins with knowing ourselves. As the saying goes, gnothi seauton.
In the time I’ve spent contributing to Pansophers and serving as an admin to the Rosicrucian Tradition’s group’s online forum (along with several other exceptional individuals), a recurring theme becomes evident: the prevalence of binary thinking within discussions surrounding Rosicrucianism. Binary thinking is when one thinks there are only two sides to a subject, and they can only choose one side. It can manifest when individuals perceive an opposition between two things where none necessarily exists. Given the non-dualistic nature associated with philosophies like Hermeticism within the realm of Rosicrucianism, the emergence of binary thinking can feel out of place. This article will attempt to describe some ways binary thinking can lead one into the trap of seeing unnecessary dichotomies.
Understanding the influences that shape us begins with knowing ourselves. As the saying goes, gnothi seauton.
The habit of seeing dichotomies wherever one looks treats the human being—and their development—as one-sided. For example: “a person can’t be spiritual if they are too rational.” Or, “a person who develops their spirituality has no need for reason.” Such thinking doesn’t often consider that one’s spiritual inclination and their reasoning faculty, to give just one example, are but parts of the human being—parts of the whole, among other faculties constituting the individual. The rejection of one’s whole nature can lead to false impressions or judgments and to one-sidedness. Especially in an online setting, where some may appear a certain way at the surface. But it doesn’t describe the individual in private. Human beings are not billboards or soundbites, and have more depth than how they appear via their online persona. In person, what you see is not necessarily what you get. It is crucial to remember that the world encompasses more than just two possibilities: of one vs. other.
As it turns out, history gives us many instances where humans practiced and developed seemingly “dualistic” faculties at the same time. They also did so without conflict. The ancient Greeks practiced philosophical discourse while attending the rites of the ancient mysteries. In late antiquity, philosophy lead to the development of early theological and esoteric thought, whether it be Jewish (Philo of Alexandria), Christian (Pseudo Dionysius, Clement, Origen, etc.), or Hermetic (the Corpus Hermeticum). Same went for the Arabic world with the relationship between late Platonism and Sufism. Looking at the Medieval and Renaissance periods too, we see many who practiced magic, alchemy, Hermeticism, and esoteric spirituality while also studying the arts and sciences. One might consider how the study of grammar, logic, and rhetoric (the trivium), combined with arithmetic, music, geometry, and astronomy (the quadrivium) preceded esoteric thought at the time. Consider the work of Ficino, Trithemius, Paracelsus, or Agrippa.
One thing that some may not consider, is the value many esotericists place on silence.
Or, consider the writers of the Rosicrucian Manifestos. The writers of the Rosicrucian Manifestos were highly educated people who met and convened at the University of Tübingen in the Tübingen circle, which included Johann Valentin Andreae, Christoph Besold, and Tobias Hess. I doubt any of them would have considered any conflict to exist between their studies, professional work, and spirituality. Members of this Rosicrucian circle were scientists, physicians, philosophers, and writers, as well as theologians, priests, and esotericists. Their pluralistic activities weren’t a cause for inner despair, but rather combined to contribute to their unique abilities and output.
Here are some arguments that present unecessary dichotomies that support dualistic thinking.
A Historical vs. Living Tradition
This argument asserts that some people are “too historical” in their approach, as opposed to others who actively work with tradition through their spiritual or esoteric practice. This dichotomy often frames the “armchair” vs. “true occultist” debate as well, with one side being too intellectual vs. the other being more spiritual.
In truth, one is able to study history and engage in active esoteric traditions at the same time—without their being a conflict. Being involved in a study of history doesn’t replace esoteric practice, just as an esoteric practice doesn’t replace the study of history. Both can be, however, valuable for framing the meaning and value of Rosicrucianism in the present. Both history and practice can likely benefit from gaining a basic understanding offered by the other.
Additionally, one thing that some may not consider, is the value many esotericists place on silence. Just because someone speaks mainly about concepts or history of esoteric practice, doesn’t always mean they are actively involved in one. It could also mean that they feel speaking about their practice takes away from its value.
Academic vs. Practitioner
This argument is similar to the one above, but focuses on the disclipline involved. The common argument is that academics give an inexperienced, outsider’s perspective on esotericism or occultism, while the practitioner gives a more authentic version of esotericism because they’ve experienced it firsthand. (The other side to the argument, however, is that practitioners can sometimes base certainty on their personal impressions rather than deferring to a wider stream of discourse, which includes those who are experienced with interpreting history.)
What’s curious about the academic vs. practitioner argument is that sometimes you meet practitioners who go deep into scholarly pursuits after being involved with their esoteric practice for some time, reaching a point where they start reflecting more deeply on the historical roots of the traditions they’ve intimately known and experienced. Among these, I’ve never seen anyone who seemed conflicted by their scholarly and esoteric work. Usually, their work is appreciated and helps clarify the background, teachings, theologies, or practices of their inherited traditions.
Additionally, a newer generation of academics does seem to be open to esoteric practices, and many practitioners are looking at their output so to understand their practice better. Some works, like Lawrence Principe’s The Secrets of Alchemy can be academic and pragmatic at the same time, revealing how direct practice with an historical subject can shed new light on how to interpret earlier texts.
Intellectual vs. Spiritual
We’ve touched on a few dichotomies so far, however, this one seems to get at the core. Rather than spirit vs. matter being the prime dualism of our time, I’d suggest it is actually a intellect vs. spirituality dualism that dominates our thoughts and experiences today. In today’s understanding, being intellectual means someone who likes to analyze, study, or learn by reading. Intellectualism is thought of as a mental activity, meaning, an activity influenced by our own seperate and distinct psychology; one that is detached and isolated from reality. Being spiritual, on the other hand, is often taken to mean one who can sense or experience more deeply, one who can experience things at a deeper or more transcendent level of reality, or one who can sense the connectivity of everything.
Given these modern interpretations, being intellectual is often seen as a force of separation, with spirituality a force of unity. This dichotomy, however, undermines our traditional understandings of such matters.
The problem is that historically, intellect and spirit were often seen as entwined. A good intellect was often seen as arising from spirit in a well-balanced soul. Intellect might also be the result of a divine presence, spirit, or higher genius.
If we begin by looking at the textbook definition, it gives us a few clues:
spir·it·u·al·i·ty
noun
the quality of being concerned with the human spirit or soul as opposed to material or physical things
What is interesting here is how spirituality, being focused on the spirit or soul, is seen in contrast to material or physical things (yes, another dichtomy, but let’s put this aside for now). What’s important is how spirituality is decsribed as “non-physical.”
Given these modern interpretations, being intellectual is often seen as a force of separation, and spirituality a force of unity. This dichotomy, however, undermines our traditional understandings of such matters.
The issue that arises, is that intellect is also non-physical. So why do we consider them to be at odds if there are not so different in substance? [We have to keep in mind that earlier views of spirit and soul were often that both were in fact substances, i.e. subtle types of material]. This means we can’t concretize a spirituality vs. intellect dichotomy based on material vs. non-material reasoning.
Things get even more curious as we continue looking at them from a classical point of view. What we think of as intellect might actually have carried a different meaning than it does today. The capacity for intellectuality would have been closer to meaning one had a particular sense faculty. As a sense, this would mean it stood in relationship to its environment. It would be similar, for example, as one with a good sense of touch being able to feel the textures of their environment, or or one with good sense of vision being able to see things.
If we go further, the idea of intellect also carries spiritual connotations. According to the Oxford Reference, the Latin root word intellectus relates to “comprehension, understanding, reason, discerning, meaning, sense, intuition, consciousness, perception, representation, or soul.” Once we see both intuition and soul included in this definition, we know they were looking at things slightly differently than we do today. From their point of view, the faculty of intellect was involved with much more than just thinking or being analytical. One’s intellect helped them navigate the world physically, sensually, and perhaps to some degree, spiritually.
Even more interesting is learning that intellectus was the word commonly used to translate the word nous from Greek into Latin. Scholars have argued that the common translation of nous as “mind” or “intellect” is generally insufficient, if not misleading, considering its deeper connotations. Wouter Hanegraaf, in his Hermetic Spirituality and the Historical Imagination, addresses this problem of translating nous as “intellect,” based on our modern deficiency of understanding what the intellect’s capacity was. Quoting the French scholar André-Jean Festugière, he says:
“…when we are dealing with that particular noēton referred to as God, then the nous is no longer the human “intellect” properly speaking but a pure faculty of intuition or spiritual apprehension.”
Later, he continues:
“And so it is that the same word nous refers at the same time to the normal instrument for knowing things that can be thought and to the instrument of mystical intuition that enters into contact with the anoēton [that which can not be thought].”
With this, we see that we can’t separate intellect from spirit cleanly, or see them being at odds with one another. The same sense faculty we know as intellect would be capable of common as well as spiritual knowledge (i.e. experience).
Initiatic Tradition vs. Book Tradition
This is similar to intellectual vs. practice argument, but has emerged recently as the claim that Rosicrucianism is an initiatic tradition, and that those involved with Rosicrucianism as a book tradition (that is, they like to read, comprehend, or contemplate historical Rosicrucian books) are fake Rosicrucians.
To believe this, one would first need to be convinced that the activities seen of others online, like in Facebook groups, are a total measure of what they consider Rosicrucianism to be, which is an odd assumption, since it’s likely that at least some who study such materials would also be invested in esoteric practice. And if they were, they would understand what initiation is and what reading a book is. There are even some who consider that certain texts are initiatory by reading them. This accusation, thus, seems to be an effort to gatekeep Rosicrucianism. One can be initiated in a group or other setting, and still consider books on Rosicrucian subjects to be important for their personal development.
Yet there is another point to be made about initiatic traditions. Some groups and individuals observe that they carry an initiatic lineage back to the likes of figures like the Gold- und Rosenkruezer or Eliphas Levi, to name a few. Yet, these figures carry a tradition leading back to earlier Rosicrucian influences that can be traced through literature. More specifically, they reference works written by figures like Paracelsus, Agrippa, Trithemius, Reuchlin, Khunrath, Postel, von Rosenroth—the list goes on. This literary tradition helps to illustrate the practices and beliefs held by these earlier Rosicrucian figures. Perhaps ironically, these are things we might not know without reading and studying these materials.
Often, when we encounter binary thinking in Rosicrucianism, it can appear as gatekeeping, coming off as one’s desire to make the outer world reflect their own internal world. There are other ways to do this, though, ways that are more productive and cooperative within a greater Rosicrucian community.
In a future article, in Pt 2, we’ll discuss possibilities on how to resolve dualisms.
