Connect with us

Occult

Chapel Perilous: Notes From The New York Occult Revival

By Don Jolly

T. Peter Park is a retired librarian with a Ph.D. in European history from the University of Virginia. He has white hair and a round, red face. His eyes are perpetually-squinted half-moons, crowded by his smile. His shirtfront pocket is always overflowing with pens, in a dizzying array of colors, brands and points. He’s constantly writing.

“All my life, I’ve been kind of a bit omnivorous in my reading and research,” he told me when we met last January in a Madison Avenue bookstore. “I’ve always liked what most people would call reputable scholarly history and philosophy, but at the same time, ever since my early teens, I’ve liked reading about haunted houses and ghosts and ESP and UFOs and abductions and the Loch Ness Monster and sea serpents and Bigfoot and other ‘hairy hominids’ and so forth.”

It was a cold night, and the snow from a few days before had solidified into a slippery mess of ice-polyps, collected in the places where direct sunlight never fell. The shop, one cozy room lit by antique fixtures, was filling up with people who, like Peter and I, were waiting to hear Mitch Horowitz, editor-in-chief of Tarcher/Penguin, Penguin Book’s metaphysical literature imprint, deliver a chapter from his book, One Simple Idea, a history of “positive thinking” in American culture, from the Reform minister Norman Vincent Peale to contemporary twelve-step programs.

Horowitz’s previous work, Occult America, released in 2009, had been a major hit with Park and his circle. It claimed to chart a hidden path through American history — leading readers into a world of spiritualist seances, hypnotic healings and ritual magic, stretching back further than the founding of the Republic. Since its publication, Horowitz has been known to lead the occasional walking tour of New York’s own occult landmarks, pointing out statues of Pagan gods, Egyptian obelisks and places where various fringe religionists once lived. Last fall, I met a woman who’d been on one of Horowitz’s tours. It changed her whole perspective, she said. The tour let her see how much energy there was in the city — magical energy — coursing below the streets. It was that energy that kept her here, that energy which was attracting others. An occult revival in New York, she told me, was underway.

Park, with his paranormal tastes, is undoubtedly a part of the movement. “I’ve always had a kind of omnivorous magpie-like curiosity about that sort of stuff,” he continued. “An old friend from the University of Virginia jocularly calls it ‘pig-hanging weird piss.’” Park laughed, closing his eyes completely. “I’ve always been a pig-hanging weird piss devotee!” he said.

Since we first met last fall, I’ve received at least an e-mail a day from T. Peter Park. Sometimes they’re long essays, sometimes forwarded links, sometimes tidbits pulled from out-of-the-way corners of the Internet. No matter the format, his messages are concerned with “the occult and esoteric as a problem in sociology.” His interest, like Horowitz’s, is in the liminal and the hidden – the idea that there is a secret order to the world which only select individuals have both the ability and inclination to understand. Park’s messages, which often begin with the salutation “Friends! Forteans! Thinkers!,” are aimed at this elect demographic.

His work began years ago, when Park started contributing to a few listserves that catalogue paranormal happenings in the style of Charles Fort, a pioneering American writer during the late 1920s and early 30s.

“I used to be the list-owner and co-founder of a now-defunct list called Mythfolk,” he said. “It still sort of exists, but has been taken over by pornography marketeers.” Park continues to contribute to another, still-extant, list called Forteana, and many items in his personal mailings are “carbon copies” of his contributions there.  When Park writes something he’s particularly proud of, he forwards it to a circle of friends and colleagues — including myself, Mitch Horowitz and “the whole Observatory crew,” a body of other occult practitioners and researchers loosely affiliated with The Observatory, a Brooklyn art and performance space which hosts lectures on ritual magic, spiritualism and other esoteric topics.

Recent messages have included an expansive discussion of the science fiction writer C.M. Kornbluth’s 1956 satire of positive thinking, “The Cosmic Charge Account,” a personal reflection on Scientology in the late 1970s, and a conjectural genealogy of the Duck Dynasty patriarch Phil Robertson, whose ancestors, Park argues, likely practiced a “variegated, easy-going and eclectic ‘folk religion,’” complete with practical magic.

“I really take it very seriously,” he said. “It sometimes takes me several days, sometimes several weeks, to work on my essays. Generally I start them longhand, on legal pads, and then I type them up in my computer and edit them for a while. Then I broadcast them!”

“And you get responses?” I asked.

A shot of joy ran across his face. “I do!” he replied.

+++

“There’s been a magical revival happening in New York City for two to three years,” Damon Stang, the “shop witch” for Catland Books in the Bushwick neighborhood of Brooklyn, told the New York Times last year. “I think it’s a nostalgia that people have for a sense of enchantment with the world.”

There is some material evidence that a new interest in magic and esoteric subjects is growing. Catland itself, an active center for pagan rites and magical ceremonies, opened last February. The Times article, which appeared ten months after opening, is an indication of that interest, although it was albeit a local-color piece called “Friday Night Rites”  in which the shop was erroneously located in  Williamsburg. More substantially, NYU hosted its first annual Occult Humanities Conference in October — a gathering of researchers, practitioners and artists from all over the world who engaged in work with the occult and esoteric. The Observatory, Park’s home base, has been offering well-attended lectures on magical topics since 2009, including a few by Mitch Horowitz.

I attended the NYU conference, just down the street from The Revealer’s office. It was there that I met Park, and others like him — including the conference’s organizers, Jesse Bransford, an artist, and Pam Grossman, a blogger and co-founder of The Observatory. Nearly everyone I talked to was invested in the idea that the “occult” was experiencing a kind of revival, globally and locally.

In the academic study of religion, “the occult” is neither settled as a term nor a community. At its most basic level, it indicates a kind of hiddenness — a concealed truth. In popular usage, this usually means pagan nature worship, witchcraft, spirit communication, magic and other fringe religious ideas. The scholar Catherine Albanese, in her magisterial A Republic of Mind and Spirit, investigated many American practitioners of these forms as “metaphysicals,” a particular variety of religious actor for whom the power of the mind and the existence of a concealed “energy” within the body and the world, are essential. It’s a useful term, but hardly ever applied outside of the academy. The people I met at the conference preferred the words “occult” and “esoteric” to describe their interests, often using them interchangeably. How can a revival be studied when it is unclear what, exactly, is being revived?

Maybe the answer can be found within “the occult” itself — in that fractured aesthetic of hidden powers and magical potentials — that variable doctrine of “energy.” At the conference, and in the months that followed, I sat down with both Grossman and Bransford, to ask them about their views on the matter and about the ways in which their occult pursuits might interface with my own study of religion. We never settled the revival question. Bransford and Grossman did, however, give me a better idea of what such a movement might look like.

+++

Jesse Bransford, Guardian (Mavors In Potentia), 2006, 65x41", acrylic, watercolor, graphite on paper.

Jesse Bransford, Guardian (Mavors In Potentia), 2006, 65×41″, acrylic, watercolor, graphite on paper.

The wind was up, spinning leaves between the legs of the passing crowd, on the night I attended the opening gala of the NYU Occult Humanities Conference.

Several galleries and a classroom on the first floor of a richly antiquated building off of St. Mark’s had been reserved for the event. The largest room where the opening party was to take place had already filled with attendees and curious art students by the time I arrived. Grimoires, medieval books of spells, jockeyed for space on the cloth-draped vendors’ tables with collections of correspondence by the infamous twentieth-century magician Aleister Crowley. Wine and cheese were against the far wall. Art was everywhere, and the crowd was moving slowly from piece to piece.

Symbols drawn from Western divination blazed in red, black and yellow from Elijah Burgher’s man-sized canvases. Spiritualists and voodoo practitioners, their faces lost in a reverie of trance, stared out of blown-up portraits by the photographer Shannon Taggart. Jesse Bransford’s work  was delicately traced, spreading grids and curves and color in mathematical array, resembling the spirit alphabet revealed by angels in the 1580s to John Dee, the renaissance magician and philosopher.

“The arts and humanities are acutely interested in subjects related to the occult tradition,” read the program’s introduction. “Roughly defined, the occult tradition represents a series of culturally syncretic beliefs with related and overlapping visual histories.” These beliefs occur in almost every culture and era, continues the program. “Universal occult concerns often include some kind of magic; a longing to connect with an immaterial or trans-personal realm and a striving for inner knowledge.” The goal of the conference was to explore these themes through “research, scholarship and artistic practice.” The goal of opening night was to get everybody pleasantly drunk while Meredith Yayanos played the theremin.

Before the music started, I mingled with the crowd. It was a packed room, but ultimately, a small one. There were maybe a hundred people wending between the various exhibits. I wondered how universal the occult could really be, given that the attendees were predominately white, young and almost exclusively dressed in black.

+++

Pam Grossman is a significant figure in the New York occult circle. Her esoteric art blog, Phansmaphile, is one of the most popular of its type and she serves as associate editor of the Abraxas International Journal of Esoteric Studies, a publication which exists to document and advance what its press releases call “an increasing esoteric sensibility” in art and culture. The Observatory, the Brooklyn performance and lecture space which Grossman co-founded in 2009, along with seven other artists and bloggers, serves as an important hub for those in the New York area with an interest in the occult. It’s where Peter Park recruits for his mailing list.

I spoke with Grossman between sessions on the first full day of the conference, sharing adjacent seats in a temporarily abandoned lecture hall. Grossman a small woman with pale skin and dark hair that falls past her shoulders, speaks directly and affably, but with a certain practiced quality. She makes a good ambassador, and has been asked to play one on occasion, writing on esoteric topics for mainstream publications such as the Huffington Post. Within the world of the occult, Grossman’s resume is even more impressive. “I’ve been interested in esoteric subjects since before I even knew what the word esoteric meant,” she said. “Since childhood, I loved anything having to do with mythology, anything having to do with magic and fairy tales.  As I got older, I got deeper into the material.”

Eventually, this pursuit led Grossman into what she calls a “magical” or “imaginal” frame of mind. For her, everything is significant. There are no coincidences. “I do believe that there is some kind of a spirit you tap into that transcends whatever this material space is,” she said. “It’s allowed me to live life,or try to live life, with an almost mythical lens, to really follow signposts and synchronicities and symbols, what I often call the trail of cosmic breadcrumbs.”

“Do you think of that as a religious idea?” I asked, attempting to gauge her opinion of the term

Grossman paused. I could tell she was formulating a way to render her objections without giving offense. “Religion,” she began, slowly, “while I think it has its merits, buckets out content, first of all.” She meant that it provided its truth in discrete, and controlled, chunks. “Second, it highly encourages a mediator between you and the divine. You need a priest or a rabbi or what have you.” Not so with the esoteric, she said. “While there are certainly teachers you can study this material with,” she said, “I think one of the reasons people are gravitating toward it so much today is because you don’t really need a mediator.”

The necessity of this self-direction attracts certain personalities to the study, Grossman believed. “Most people here, I imagine, love to read,” she continued. “[The esoteric] really encourages that kind of bibliomania. And if you’re someone who loves to read, you’re also someone who is comfortable being an autodidact, comfortable seeking out knowledge externally and also within yourself.  And [you trust] the patterns that that weaves, as opposed to relying on someone else to tell you what wisdom is or what divinity is.” She sounded more like a protestant than a magician. Her calls for direct study of text and a personal relationship with the truth of the divine seemed, to me, definitely rooted in the thinking of Luther – with his criticisms of the Roman Church  as dogmatic, hierarchical and ultimately obfuscating expanded onto religion as a whole. There were some key differences, however. Luther argued for direct engagement with one book. Grossman, for her part, emphasizes engagement with books in general.

Naturally, this lead me to wonder what kind of texts she finds significant. “Is there anything different about an esoteric text, as opposed to a non-esoteric one?” I asked. Grossman shook her head. “For me, it’s not just text,” she said. “I suppose we’re using that word broadly because [the esoteric] is very image-based as well.” She began thinking out loud, mulling over the issue. “I’m kind of forming my thoughts as I’m talking,” she laughed. “But I do think that what’s powerful about the written word is that it allows for the exchange of knowledge, right?  I would argue that the Internet is just that, times a million.”

“When we all got started on [the Internet], we all assumed we were going to have avatars and we were going to pretend to be other people and it would be very veiled and very hidden,” she said. “In fact, the Internet has allowed us to be, for better or for worse, who we are and what we’re actually like.” For Grossman, the Internet works to reveal its users’ interiors, even certain things — like an interest in the esoteric — which might be harder to admit in polite, physical society. Digital spaces are excellent places for the construction of occult communities. “The beauty of the Internet is also that it allows you to ‘find the others,’” she continued, quoting Timothy Leary, the guru of  1960s acid culture. “We can find those people from the nether regions and bring them together in physical space.”

She looked around the room. Two attendees, white men in dark coats, were having an animated discussion by the fire escape. There was a murmur of conversation from the hall. “It’s been really heartening to me, even in the couple of hours since we’ve started, to hear the conversations and the cross-pollinations and links between people,” Grossman smiled. “And who knows what relationships are forming, what projects they’re going to do together? I mean, I love that.” I began to feel the conference might be the physical tip of largely digital iceberg. Again, I was reminded of Luther — and the centrality of the printing press to the reformation. Maybe an occult revival, in Grossman’s conception, required another leap-forward in information technology.

“I love that the Internet largely brought all these people together,” she said. “But that it comes full circle in the material world, person to person.”

+++

Jesse Bransford, Martian Spirits, 2006, 75x47", acrylic, watercolor, graphite on paper.

Jesse Bransford, Martian Spirits, 2006, 75×47″, acrylic, watercolor, graphite on paper.

A few weeks after the conference, on Armistice Day, I sat down with Jesse Bransford at a sandwich shop with a glass front in the East Village. It was the lunch rush, and the place was crammed with students. He ate while we talked.

Bransford is tall and pale, with long, straight blonde hair. His eyes looked thoughtfully out from behind thick glasses. He works for NYU, where he has been Undergraduate Director of the Steinhardt School of Culture, Education and Human Development since 2005. He’s been displaying at galleries, locally and internationally, since 1997. About ten years ago, he started a series of pieces on the theme of the seven visible planets. That’s what brought him to his current conception of the occult.

“I had gone through about three bodies of work up to that point,” he said. “I was trying to figure out what to do next. Until then, he told me, he’d been very “lighthearted in my approach.” He described doing a series of drawings based on his reading of the rock band Blue Oyster Cult through some of the twentieth century’s foremost intellectual voices, including Francis Yates, a historian whose pioneering work on Renaissance magic and the Rosicrucians helped legitimize the Academy’s study of “the esoteric.” It was  “real hi-low mash-up type stuff,” Bransford said. He soon abandoned Blue Oyster Cult, but not Francis Yates.

Her 1966 book, The Art of Memory, was especially key for Bransford. “It talks about creative intention and an ordering of the perceived universe, which bridged through this thing she called magic,” he said. His idea of this ordering wasn’t too far off from Grossman’s imaginal lens — a way to view the world as a series of significant symbols rather than dumb coincidences. “I realized pretty early on that these kinds of correspondences exist pan-culturally,” he continued. “I was like, ‘You know what I bet? That this set of phenomena are universal.’ And they of course, were.” He set out to explore this universal magic artistically. The planets were a natural subject. “Every cultural perspective you can look at has an attitude towards the seven visible planets,” he said.

Beginning with the sun, and taking around a year to produced and display each work, Bransford began his decade-long project. “As I kept working, things just started getting weird,” he said. “In every lecture I give about this, I talk about Robert Anton Wilson’s idea of ‘chapel perilous,’ which is the idea that if you’re courting a belief system or working within a belief system, at a certain point, that belief system will manifest itself in such a way that it’s reality becomes undeniable. And at that point, you’re either in or out.” Wilson, a writer and philosopher with an interest in conspiracies and the occult, first coined “chapel perilous” in his 1977 novel Cosmic Trigger. He used it to indicate an experience of the divine so powerful that the only two possible responses were agnosticism or paranoia. For Bransford, his encounter with “chapel perilous” occurred in 2005. He was working on Mars:

I was in Cologne, finishing up – preparing the exhibition. I was working late and a step-up transformer for an electrical conversion exploded, like right in the middle of where I was working. I got creeped out big time. It was late. It was after midnight. This thing exploded. The whole room filled with ozone. I was like, ‘That’s pretty telltale,’ – like in the reading that I’ve done, that’s a pretty telltale sign that something’s entered the space, right? So things like that kept happening. It kept amplifying and about half way through the project, I sort of made a decision to start really pushing things to see what happened. I went to Peru and worked with a shaman down there. From that point forward, it was: ‘magic is real and I have to deal with that now.’  There were telepathic experiences. There were – you just sort of fill in the blanks in terms of the strange tales, kind of like a romantic notion of seeing the other side.  All that stuff.

For Bransford, experience was a key component of his occult conception. Various texts he had been engaged with until that time served only as a prelude to his fateful encounter in Cologne. Even before reading Yates, Bransford had been interested in books of medieval and renaissance magic, particularly a book by the Renaissance magician Cornelius Aggripa, Three Books of Occult Philosophy. “Originally [I had] a sort of very analytical, almost anthropological take on the material. But now that I’ve started working with [it], I realize that I was only doing half of the job. It really comes alive when you actually work with it.” Work, in this case, meant the production of “talismanic” art, capable of effecting supernatural change. Until Bransford began experiencing such things directly, works like Aggripa’s were just flat, dead wood.

I repeated a question I’d asked Grossman. “Do you consider that religious?”

He thought. “One of the big mistakes that I think the mainstream press has made,” he said, “is that they call [the occult] religion-lite or spiritualism-lite or belief-lite or whatever. I think that’s a cheap shot. It ignores the fundamental distinction that this material tries to make.” The distinction being, in Bransford’s view, that occult productions aren’t afraid to openly incorporate, alter and recombine material from a wide range of texts, communities and practices. The occult, he said, is “the stuff that’s amalgamating and is very upfront about that amalgamation.” Of course, he acknowledged, all religious traditions are combinative in some capacity. The difference, for Bransford, is that the occult places the act of creative bricolage at its center.

“My take on it is, [occultists] aren’t necessarily interested in a truth or a singular truth,” he said. “I think they’re interested in a consensus-based or consensual, metaphorical set of constructs that become truth-like.” He viewed his community as being a place of infinite individual systems of reading, practice and belief — combined and coalesced only by their commitment to individual agency.

+++

One of the problems with being a scholar of religion is that your definition of the term comes colored by decades of debate and theory that are alien to most of its practitioners and adherents. Bransford and Grossman see “religion” as something to react against, a monolithic and disempowering system of control. Park, who approaches his messages with some version of the scholarly distance I share, thinks more broadly and is more forgiving. I think he’d probably agree with me that “the occult” is a specialized form of religious thinking, almost a set of aesthetic conventions within Albanese’s idea of the American metaphysical.

What stood out in my conversations with Bransford and Grossman was their mutual interest in affirming the religious agency of the individual. The communities they imagined and helped to create, were necessarily heterogenous places where clashing claims to truth were held side-by-side, allowing Bransford’s “truth-like” metaphorical constructs to emerge. The scholar Courtney Bender, in her 2010 study of a Cambridge “spiritual” community, The New Metaphysicals, documents such a group. As Bender notes, even calling them a “group” is a stretch. Although her subjects share a geographical location and commitment to respecting each other’s individual beliefs and practices, they share practically nothing else.

An occult revival, in New York or anywhere, would likely encounters similar problems with cohesion. Or, in keeping with the idea of an individuated truth, perhaps it’s best to say that New York’s “occult revival” is ongoing for those who find it necessary to go on.

Since I began working on this piece I’ve received eight messages from T. Peter Park — three of them about Hopi mysticism. It’s a lonely kind of revival.

+++

Don Jolly is a Texan visual artist, writer, and academic. He is currently pursuing his master’s degree in religion at NYU, with a focus on esotericism, fringe movements, and the occult. His comic strip, The Weird Observer, runs weekly in the Ampersand Review. He is also a staff writer for Obscure Sound, where he reviews pop records. Don lives alone with the Great Fear, in New York City. 

Jolly will be presenting at The Observatory on February 21st on one of his primary research interests, the Church of Scientology. More information on his “illustrated lecture” can be found here. Doors at eight, admission eight dollars. ource

Source

Comments

Occult

Occult Third Reich: These are the multiple times Nazis tried to use supernatural powers

The myth about the love of the Nazis in general and Hitler in particular for the supernatural is widespread and well monetized. Films about legions of mutant zombies who were taken out in secret laboratories, about devilish rituals, the search for the “spear of fate” and the like take pride of place in the lists of category B paintings.

photo: Shutterstock

And the myth has a serious factual background. There is even a special term – “Nazi occultism”. For example, the British religious scholar Nicholas Goodrick-Clarke believes that occult doctrines had a decisive influence on the formation of the ideology of National Socialism.

And although his theory has many opponents, no one argues that Hitler wanted to recreate a new race of demigods based on the “pure Aryans.” In general, the Nazis tried to resort to the help of occult forces quite often.

Hitler hired a Jewish clairvoyant to predict his future

photo: Richard Lewinsohn

In January 1933, shortly before taking office as German Chancellor, Adolf Hitler visited the clairvoyant Erik Jan Hanussen (pictured above, center) to learn about his future.

Hanussen had caught Hitler’s attention a year earlier when he published an article predicting that Hitler would become German chancellor in 1933.

During the session, Hanussen told Hitler that his future would be favorable, but an obstacle would arise in his path. The psychic promised to use some kind of magic spell to ensure Hitler’s success. To do this, he took mandrake root from the butcher’s yard and buried it in the light of the full moon in Braunau am Inn, the city where Hitler was born.

True, Hitler had no idea that Hanussen was a Jew. And Hanussen, in turn, thought he could convince Hitler that anti-Semitism was not a good idea. In general, Hanussen was not very good at predicting the future.

Hitler hired a specialist to magically detect Jews

After the end of the First World War, Adolf Hitler became friends with the physician Wilhelm Gutberlet, who claimed that he possessed the superpower of recognizing Jews from a distance.

The method used by Gutberlet was quite simple: he swung the pendulum and loudly asked to point to the Jew. They became very close on the topic of anti-Semitism, and before Joseph Goebbels came to power, Gutberlet was in charge of propaganda in the Nazi party. He probably had to rotate his magic pendulum quite often.

Hitler’s astrologer

A few days before the assassination attempt on Hitler in the Munich beer hall “Bürgerbreukeller” in 1939, the Swiss astrologer Karl Ernst Kraft tried to warn Hitler that his life was in danger.

In early November 1939 he wrote a letter to his friend Dr. Heinrich Fesel, who worked for Heinrich Himmler. In the letter, Kraft warned that Hitler would be in danger from November 8-10 and asked him to cancel all public appearances.

At first, Heinrich Fesel did not attach any importance to the letter, but after the bombing, he nevertheless informed Himmler, and Kraft was officially hired by the Nazi party. As a staff astrologer, Kraft had to analyze the predictions of Nostradamus, and, of course, in such a way that Germany won the war.

Dietrich Eckart predicted Hitler would become the German messiah

German journalist Dietrich Eckart was a huge influence on Hitler in the early days of the Nazi movement. He was at the origins of the German Workers’ Party, which later became the NSDAP, and, like Hitler, was a member of the Thule Society, an occult organization that believed that Germany was destined to become the homeland of a new messiah, who would turn it into the Promised Land.

This Messiah, according to Eckart, was none other than Adolf Hitler. In addition, Eckart convinced Hitler by all means that the Jews wanted to destroy the German state and that the messiah’s task was to cleanse the country of them.

Of course, Hitler never officially admitted that he supported Eckart’s ideas about his God-chosenness. But he dedicated Mein Kampf to him, and that says something.

The Nazis believed in the theory of the creation of the universe, which Hans Herbirger saw in a dream

The official doctrine of the creation of the universe in Nazi Germany was the Doctrine of Eternal Ice, developed by the Austrian engineer Hans Herbiger. According to her, our Galaxy was born as a result of the interaction of the super-sun and blocks of space ice. This theory ran counter to astrology, but in the eyes of Hitler it was even its plus. And Herbiger himself did not like astronomy. “Objective science is a pernicious invention, a totem of decline,” the scientist wrote.

Herbiger also claimed that in the entire history of the existence of the Earth, she had four moons. The previous three have already fallen to the Earth, and each time it became a global cataclysm, due to which the geological era changed on the Earth. The fourth (current) Moon, too, sooner or later must fall to Earth, as evidenced by Herbiger in John the Theologian.

According to the same concept, the USSR was a power of the “world ice” as opposed to the solar Third Reich. All would be fine, but this concept came to Herbiger in a dream.

Project SP used magic pendulums to find warships

There was a secret office in Berlin with the letters SP on the door. The letters stood for “Sidereal pendulum”, and inside the Nazi psychics, using magic pendulums, tried to find British ships.

The Nazis started the project because they were convinced that the British were already spying on them with the same methods. In a report received by German intelligence, it was asserted that “the British have created an institute in which, with the help of pendulums, the positions of German warships, primarily submarines, are examined.”

In fact, the British had already hacked the Enigma cipher machine and read the encoded German messages, but the Nazis did not know this.

Once the SP department was able to find a damaged German battleship using a pendulum. Someone Ludwig Staniak did it. It was most likely just a coincidence, but the Nazis were so impressed that they created an entire department that spent days swinging pendulums over maps in an attempt to locate the enemy.

Heinrich Himmler was confident that he could predict the future

According to Wilhelm Wolff, Heinrich Himmler’s personal astrologer, he not only hired people with supernatural abilities, but was confident that he could predict the future himself.

So, for example, Wulf argued that Himmler never made decisions without first checking the position of the moon and stars, and all the commands he gave to the Nazi army were based on astrological calculations.

Ironically, it was Himmler who ultimately banned astrology across Germany, but according to Wolfe, he did so because he feared astrology was too powerful.

“We cannot allow others but ourselves to engage in astrology. Astrology should remain a privilege singulorum in the National Socialist state, and not belong to the broad masses ”- these words really belong to Himmler.

SS Brigadeführer convinced Himmler that Jesus was German

The first half of the twentieth century was generally fruitful for strange ideas in Germany. The German occultist Karl Wiligut was especially distinguished, who claimed that German culture originated in 228,000 BC, when there were three suns in the sky, and giants and dwarfs roamed the Earth. Wiligut also insisted that Jesus was German and that his real name was Christ.

Wiligut was fond of occult ideas from childhood and after the First World War even spent some time in a psychiatric hospital with a diagnosis of schizophrenia. However, Karl Wiligut’s close friend Heinrich Himmler was not at all embarrassed by this diagnosis. Moreover, under his patronage, Wiligut took over as head of the Department for the Study of Early History, created especially for him within the SS. Wiligut considered himself a descendant of the ancient Germanic god, and Himmler – the reincarnation of the medieval knight Heinrich Fowler.

Among the achievements of Wiligut is the development of the design of the “Death’s Head” ring, which was awarded to distinguished SS officers, as well as the performance of mystical rituals in the castle of Wewelsburg, which he proclaimed the “German Camelot”.

Rudolf Hess betrayed Hitler because six planets were in the constellation Taurus

On May 10, 1941, Deputy Fuehrer Rudolf Hess made a solo flight to Scotland, where he tried, on his own initiative, to persuade the British government to make peace with Nazi Germany. This reckless step was doomed to failure, and many wondered why the hell Hess had to do this.

The answer turned out to be even stranger than one might imagine: he did it on the recommendation of his own astrologer. More precisely, it was like this: a close friend of Hess, geographer Karl Haushofer, said that he had a dream in which Hess walked through the corridors of an English castle and brought peace between Great Britain and Germany.

Hess discussed this with his astrologer, who told him that six planets will be in Taurus on May 10, and there will also be a full moon, which means that the forecast for making peace is very favorable. And Hess went to the UK.

In Scotland, Hess was captured and until the end of the war he was in an English prison, and after that he became a participant in the Nuremberg Trials, where he was sentenced to forty years in prison. For some reason, the astrologer did not mention such a scenario.

The Nazis hired a psychic to find Mussolini

After the Hess incident, Hitler banned the occultists from the Third Reich. This, however, did not prevent him and Heinrich Himmler from still resorting to the services of astrologers.

For example, when Mussolini was arrested in 1943 as a result of the June 25 coup, several occultists were promptly released from German prisons and ordered to find Mussolini. True, Hitler, as a safety net, even equipped a reconnaissance operation to search for, and also ordered to intercept radio communications.

As a result, one of the occultists, using a pendulum, “found” Mussolini on one of the islands to the west of Naples. At the same time, the Nazis intercepted a radio message that confirmed the location of the Duce.

Continue Reading

Occult

Dark Horoscope: What Kind Of Demon Are You According To Your Zodiac Sign?

It turns out that in the horoscope you can find out what kind of demon you are by your zodiac sign. Yes, according to esotericists, each of us has our own dark side, which obeys a certain representative of the underworld. And by the way, it doesn’t always hurt us. Sometimes the demon’s patronage even helps. 

If you want to know what kind of demon you are by your zodiac sign , then look for yourself in the list below. By the way, the dark horoscope begins unconventionally with Capricorn.

Capricorn – demon Dagdarion

demon by zodiac sign

It is believed that Capricorn is the most demonic sign of the zodiac due to its external resemblance to the appearance of Satan or Baphomet. Dagdarion, on the other hand, may look like a toothy fish, a satyr or a devil. This is a demon of coldness and indifference. He gives Capricorn strength of character and the ability to resist other people’s emotions, helps to reach career heights and find useful contacts. But from a negative point of view, Dagdarion can make Capricorns into insensitive, proud, arrogant, calculating manipulative people.

Aquarius – the demon Bechemiron

demon by zodiac sign

Bechemiron is not one, but many demons, similar to hippos, can also take the form of a cat, dog, wolf or fox. Such a patron demon brings clairvoyance, prophetic dreams and strong intuition to his charges. However, he can also plunge a person into groundless fantasies and illusions. Therefore, it is so important for Aquarius not to lose touch with reality.

Pisces – demon Neshemiron

demon by zodiac sign

Neshemiron looks like a skeleton entwined with snakes, or a mermaid. It helps Pisces to better understand themselves and feel other people. Empty dreams, irresponsibility and spinelessness are the vices with which Neshemiron endows his wards. A person can waste his whole life, being lazy and considering himself an underestimated society.

Aries – demon Byriron

demon by zodiac sign

Byriron is the creation of Samael, the prince of the fallen angels. This is a child of fire, who has an active, cruel and fearless character. What is the use of it for Aries? It raises their fighting spirit and endows them with determination, helps them become a leader, an insightful and firm person. But the patronage of Byriron makes Aries too aggressive, power-hungry and despotic. Therefore, spiritual practices, yoga and meditation are recommended for representatives of this sign in order to learn how to pacify a storm of emotions in themselves. In addition, Byriron makes Aries show cowardice and “hide in the bushes” when it would be necessary to express their opinion.

Taurus – demon Adimiron

Adimiron is a creature in the form of a half-lizard, half-lion. This demon endows Taurus with a strong-willed and unyielding character. It is believed that the lion’s part of the body of Adimiron gives his wards physical strength, and the part of the reptile’s body – a “cold head”, rationality and concentration. However, in addition to such gifts, this demon can make Taurus very stubborn, withdrawn and greedy individuals. Therefore, it is very important for them not to cling to the material world.

Gemini – the demon Celladimiron

Celladimiron is a Cerberus-like entity. He gives Gemini the ability to easily and quickly adapt to changing external conditions and circumstances. However, the dark side of Celladimiron’s patronage is the inability to find oneself and one’s place in life. Representatives of this sign run the risk of losing their true self, so they should engage in self-knowledge.

Cancer – demon Shehiriron

Shehiriron is a spirit of water, similar to a demonic reptile, insect, mollusk or crustacean with a human face. The most important gift that Cancers have in store from this spirit is the ability to make all their dreams and fantasies come true. But along with them, empty chores, obsessive thoughts, fears and phobias come into the life of Cancers. Sometimes representatives of this sign suffer from insomnia more often than others.

Lion – demon Shelhabiron

Shelhabiron is a werewolf-like fire spirit. It gives Leo the endurance and the ability to deal with very difficult and responsible tasks, as well as creativity. But on the dark side, Leos can be vicious, ruthless, heartless, and aggressive. Therefore, it is important for representatives of this sign to mobilize their own resources and direct all their internal forces in the right direction.

Virgo – demon Cefariron

According to the description, Cefariron is a half-living and half-dead entity. She helps Virgo see the truth, be an honest and impartial person, and also not pay much attention to public opinion. But all this, in turn, can make the representatives of this sign of people depressed and indifferent to the joys of life. Therefore, they are encouraged to practice positive thinking and not forget to devote time to what they like.

Libra – demon Obiriron

Obiriron is a demonic spirit similar to a golem or a leprechaun. It helps Libra find inner stability. Obiriron has power over time and can give as much of it as needed so that Libra can achieve what they want. However, because of this, the representatives of this sign relax and stop doing anything, thinking that everything will work out by itself. Therefore, the main advice for Libra is not to be lazy.

Scorpio – demon Neheshithiron

Neheshithiron is a demon that looks like a devil insect with a human head. From Scorpios, he makes aggressive and strong personalities. He also helps the representatives of this sign to transform and evolve. It is important for Scorpios to listen to their heart and go through life their own way, because otherwise Neheshitiron, wanting to return a person to his own path, may begin to destroy his life.

Sagittarius – demon Nahashiron

And the last demon according to the sign of the zodiac is the patron saint of Sagittarius, Nakhashiron. It is a demon that looks like a reptile with a dog’s head. He helps Sagittarius to deal with the disadvantages of their character and become a strong and whole person. Nakhashiron provides the representatives of this sign with continuous movement towards the goal, giving them energy for transformation. The negative influence of the demon is reflected in the fact that a person can not withstand such a rapid development and get sick. Therefore, Sagittarius needs to streamline their lives as much as possible so as not to waste energy in vain.

Continue Reading

Occult

Christian writer recorded the voice of Satan?

This week, foolishly, apparently, one author claimed to have recorded the real voice of Satan. To promote the new book, Christian author Roderick Millington published a track … of the devil himself, supposedly saying, “Come into the fire, come to me.”

The electronic voice phenomenon has been the subject of controversy in the world of paranormal research for many years. Television shows such as Ghostbusters have publicly showcased the results of EVH, often manipulating frequencies to “reveal” a free voice shouting from the great beyond.

Whether you believe in the paranormal or not, Millington’s “Voice of Satan” recording will make you raise an eyebrow.

“I confess right away that until recently I was one of the cynics who laughed at those who believe in the devil,” the author begins. “Then I heard his voice and everything changed.” He continues: “As I sat at my desk trying to figure out what Satan might have spoken to me directly, after a while my breath came back, my mind became clearer and I knew what I had to do. This book is the result. “

This book is titled “The Devil’s Playground” and contains 21 supposed recordings of EVP demons along with Satan himself. However, you don’t need to buy a book to hear Satan’s voice! All you have to do is click here and scroll down to the “Come on fire, come to me” web player.

Rock and metal have a rich history of audio files, with religious leaders striving to find feedback and subliminal messages hidden in songs.

Led Zeppelin was accused of hiding the message “He’ll give you 666” in the song, and Judas Priest and Ozzy Osbourne were put on trial after fans died.

No group was found guilty of a crime.

Continue Reading
Advertisement

DO NOT MISS

Trending