Daddy, Why do the Demons Howl?

[First, I want to say that what has happened in Egypt over the past few weeks has left me unbelievably moved.  I rarely get as emotional as I have while watching the crowds in Liberation Square, but when I heard Mubarak had finally resigned, I was on the verge of tears.  With the retreat of our own liberties over the past 10 years, the corruption of democracies like Russia's, I finally feel like the world is getting better for once.   The best part, at least to me, is that is shows the power of Ahimsa, or non-violence.  I applaud the restraint of the revolutionaries, and I must admit that after Thursday’s speech by Mubarak I really thought we’d see serious violence in the streets of Cairo yesterday.  Instead, we had fireworks.  Egypt, thank you for restoring my faith in humanity.  My heart is bursting with sympathy and pride for what you've accomplished.  Now without further ado, lets return to your regularly scheduled blog post.]

Yesterday during my Sanskrit lesson, a word came up that stirred up a whole lot of associative thought.  The word is रवणम्, ravaṇam, meaning “sound making”, or “howling”, from the root रु, ru, to howl, cry, shout, or scream.  I immediately connected this to the main villain of the Ramayana, रावण, and Swami was happy to confirm this derivation of the name.

Rāvaṇa, King of the रक्षस Rakṣasa, or “man eating demons” and part of the असुर Asura tribe or race.  Rāvaṇa is depicted in the Ramayana as utterly ruled by his passions, desires, and lower instincts, however he is extremely cunning and disciplined.  He is strong enough of will to have subjugated the Gods and the Worlds so that Viṣṇu must incarnate in the form of Rāma in order to defeat him and restore order to the Universe.  While Rāvaṇa was said to to have undergone countless austerities and vedic pūja (rituals) in order to gain the tremendous power he had, at the beginning of the Ramayana, that is all over and he has become a petty tyrant.  He is called “He who Makes the Universe Scream,” and he torments not only living beings but the elements themselves, all for his egotic pleasure.  He also screams and howls quite a bit himself at every set-back during the story. 

            A quick aside for those of you who are interested in Norse cosmology.  There’s a theory that the Asura are connected to the Aesir, one of the two tribes of the Gods, of which Odin is King.  In the Norse/Germanic tradition, there are two tribes the Aesir and the Vanir.  As it has been explained to me, the more nature-oriented Vanir were likely the gods of the native folk of Germany or Scandinavia, who were invaded by Indo-European tribes.  According to my understanding, there was a war between them, mythologized into a war between the gods, in which the Vanir were victorious.  The tribes exchanged married hostages, and there was a peace, but it seems at some point the Aesir became dominant in the beliefs of the people.  Interestingly, in India, something analagous occurred.  The Indo-Europeans invaded and subjugated the pre-Vedic people of the sub-continent, and they also brought their Gods.  I’m not familiar of there being an early war between the Asura and the native, again nature-oriented Devas (lit. “Shining Ones”), but in terms of who ended up dominant, this time it was the native dieties.  By the time of the Ramayana (roughly 200BCE), the Asura were considered materialistic, egoistic, status-conscious, and full of unseemly passion.  Although there are more noble Asura depicted in the Ramayana, Rāvaṇa becomes the model.  The Asura gods have lost their hold on the popular imagination, and the Rakṣasas take their place. 

            Regardless of the origin of his tribe, the linguistic origin of Rakṣasa is of interest when we think of a much maligned form of Western esotericism, the Goetia.  Looking into its linguisitic origins, Goetia seems to be medieval Latin derived from the Greek word for Sorcery (low magick, as it is sometimes called, as opposed to Theurgy).  However, there is an important tradition which holds its translation to be “howling.”  I haven’t been able to (in my extremely brief search of the internet) find any explanation of this derivation.  Olulo is the only Latin word for howl that I can find, and while it actually sounds much like the some of the 'Barbarous words of Invocation', it bears no relation to the word Goetia.  If anyone has any insight here, I’d love to hear it.  I’m pretty sure I know where I personally picked up the connection of “howling” to the Goetia – that fun-loving fiend, Aleister Crowley. 

            Of course, Crowley was referring to a specific type of Goetia, the kind depicted in the famous book, the Legemeton, aka, Clavicula Salomonis, aka, the Lesser Key of Solomon the King, aka, the Goetia.  This book is a grimoire, a book which proports to instruct the reader on summoning the 72 spirits which are described inside.   Crowley wrote a phenomenal essay on the subject, “The Initiated Interpretation of Ceremonial Magic”, as an introduction to his 1904 edition of the book.  I’ve always liked this interpretation of the Goetia, which is primarily psychological, even though I recognize that this was very early in Crowley’s career, and that the position he takes is one that he will increasingly abandon (although I’d argue, never completely give up).  The essential argument is that the various props (robes, incense, wands, etc) are all intended to effect the senses in such a way as to bring about certain mental phenomena, namely the Goetia.  Crowley unequivocally writes that “the spirits of the Goetia are portions of the human brain.”  In other words, they represent unconscious forces in the magician who attempts to summon them.  I should note that, should this be the case, it is a potent argument for both the traditional dangers of such an attempt (dredging up the unconscious is never ‘safe’), as well as its traditional benefits.  Psychology tells us plenty about the way “complexes” tie up the psychic energy of a person (Freud’s concept of the Libido).  If we can free this energy up, we would (according to Freud), have more mental energy at our disposal.  Therefore, such Goetic aims as learning “all arts and sciences", "what the Mind is”, or even to cause “Women to love Men, and to bring them together in Love.”  How does that work?  Well, if we work out our issues, we’re much more likely to be happy in love.  The point is that we can make use of the vast area of the mind that is the unconscious, whose forces, according to Carl Jung, always appear to be ‘other’ than the self.  Evocation of a spirit then, is a potential means of dealing with these unruly forces.  It's also, if you are predisposed to psychosis, a recipe for disaster and even schizophrenia.  
            William James, in his phenomenal classic The Varieties of Religious Experience made a wonderful case for arguing for a psychological understanding of mysticism, but in such a way as to not merely reduce mystical experience to fantasy, but showing its direct impact on the real world.  He writes "Yet the unseen region in question is not merely ideal, for it produces effects in this world.  When we commune with it, work is actually done upon our finite personality, for we are turned into new men, and consequences in the way of conduct follow in the natural world upon our regenerative change. But that which produces effects within another reality must be termed a reality itself, so i feel as if we had no philosophic excuse for calling the unseen or mystical world unreal." (p561)

            Many people have compared the Goetia to the Jinn of Islamic cultures.  Jinn, according to Wikipedia, comes from a Arabic word meaning “hidden”, and that certainly would apply to “other-like” forces of the unconscious.  The Jinn share an additional mythic commonality with the spirits of the Goetia, they are both said to have been trapped or enslaved by the biblical King Solomon in a "vessel of brass". Entering into the legends of the West, the Jinn became the Genie, coming from the Latin, genius, and the "vessel of brass" became the Genie's lamp. The Latin genius was originally considered as an outside force which inspired a person, rather than a quality of a person.  For an excellent talk on this distinction, I refer you to this amazing Ted talk by Elizabeth Gilbert.  I never read Eat, Pray, Love, (and probably never will) but this talk was great.  

            This understanding of Genius as appearing as outside inspiration gives a positive twist on these unconscious forces.  But this notion didn’t originate with the Romans, but with the Greeks.  In Greek, Genius is Daimon or Daemon, which is where we get our word ‘demon’. Socrates famously talks about his Daimon, which seems to have some sort of veto power over his actions, in the Apology.  Similarly, in the Symposium, Eros is declared to not be a god, but a daimon.  In Greece, daimon was a rather neutral, or even positive concept, much like the Jinn.  Both types of hidden forces can appear as good, evil, or indifferent.  In many ways, these spirits were considered to be very human-like, even if usually immortal.  The spirits of the Goetia are usually described similarly by those who have dabbled into that questionable art. 

            There is another ‘species’ of spirits we should consider, if only to contrast – angels.  This word comes from the Greek angelos, or messenger.  Messenger of what?  Of God of course, which was considered to be the highest Good.  We have here the appearance of dualism – the increasing fixation of the Absolute World of God, so important in Neo-Platonism and Christianity.  There are “spirits of the air” (air is almost always esoterically associated with mind) everywhere, and some are worldly, some are messengers from God.  As worldliness became synonymous with ungodliness, impurity, and sin, the worldly spirits transformed from daimons to demons.   There became a division between the “messengers” and those who “howl.”  We can see this play out in the way demons are consistently depicted as dark and animal-like, and angels human-like, and effulgent.  (For more on that, see my previous post).

            While ultimately both can be seen as unconscious energies manifesting as “outside forces”, this distinction can be used to classify these things, perhaps unfairly, into two camps.  In Christianity, we’d see them as Angelic and Infernal, but for our purposes lets call them “worldly” and “transcendent”.  Yoga teaches us (rightly) that the worldly impulse takes us away from peace, from clarity about ourselves and our universe, by stirring up the citta vṛttis, the modifications of the mind.  The citta here is analogous to the Libido of Freud (not in its popular sexual connotation), as the sum total of the energy of the mind.  This energy gets whipped up by the senses, ‘modified’ into thoughts.  The word for modify is vṛtti which also means to revolve.  Swami Vivekananda describes these as ‘whirlwinds’ of the mind.  The ideal yogic state, according to the Yoga Sutras, is when these whirlwinds are completely stilled, so that the true nature of the Self is reflected by the still citta.  Devotional practices towards some ideal is a prescribed method towards this end.  Such messengers as angels may be useful, as they have been in inspiring many saints.  Spirits connected to worldly desires (concentrating the unconscious on such desires), would therefore lead to a rather uncalm mind, a sort of self-made 'hell'.  Maybe even one that howls. It is interesting to note that the method of the Lesser Key of Solomon is to first invoke one's own personal Daimon, (from the invocation "angelos ton Theon", angel of God), with faith in its authority over the 'lesser spirits' of the Goetia.

            Of course the final consideration is personal – do I want a quiet mind, or do I want to satisfy my unceasing worldy desires?  But I think that question may well be a false one.  As Sri Ramakrishna says repeatedly of Brahman, “He has become everything.”  Including the howling mad forces of worldly life.  While conventions like this dualistic ways of judging our deepest unconscious thoughts and impulses (some leading up, some down) may be useful in the gaining of self-control and attaining yogic states, they are just that, conventions.  Ultimately, these ways of looking at the world (or any ways of looking at the world) are illusory, are Maya. I think the truth is larger, grander, and stranger than any duality (including Yoga) can accurately describe.