One of the things that makes the history of modern etheric technologies complex is that there isn't a nice straightforward sequence of researchers, each of whom picks up where the previous one left off. More precisely, such a sequence exists -- the development of radionics from Albert Abrams through Ruth Drown to George and Marjorie de la Warr, T. Galen Hieronymus, and David Tansley, among others -- but other researchers such as Leon Eeman and Walter Kilner have stumbled across the same realm of etheric energy and explored it in their own unique ways, coming up with their own terminology and techniques. The subject of this week's post is far and away the most colorful and controversial of these figures: that astonishing force of nature, Wilhelm Reich. The whole sweep of Reich's career requires a book, not a journal post, and Myron Sharaf's biography Fury on Earth is a good option if you're interested. Even his work in the realm of etheric technologies is complex and important enough that it will require two posts, of which this is the first.
To summarize a complex biography very quickly, Reich was one of Sigmund Freud's students in Vienna immediately after the First World War, and unlike most Freudians, came to the conclusion that the best solution to the psychological ills caused by sexual repression was, ahem, less sexual repression. He's the man who invented the phrase "the sexual revolution." He was involved with Marxism in the giddy early days after the Russian Revolution, but ditched it (like many other intellectuals of the time) once Stalin showed conclusively just now nightmarish Marx's theories were when put into practice.
Over time, his research led him deeper and deeper into the complicated territory of sex, where biology meets psychology. He figured out that dysfunctional emotional habits are reflected in specific patterns of body tension, which he called "character armor." He also focused much of his research on the role of orgasm as a release of tension -- a kind of reset button for the body. All this while he was being thrown out of one country after another, because the Communists, the Fascists, the mainstream Freudians, and the churches all found him a convenient punching bag and made as much trouble for him as they could.
He was living in Norway with his second wife when he began to stray across the border into the nonphysical realms. He was researching cancer, which seemed to be associated with certain patterns of character armor and emotional dysfunction, and claimed to find microbes of an unknown type in tissue cultures taken from cancers. Some of these, he noted, appeared through a microscope to be surrounded by little haloes of blue light. Some other people could see those, others couldn't; a close reading of Reichenbach's books could have clued Reich in to what was going on, but I haven't encountered any evidence yet that he read Reichenbach. So he continued his researches, convinced that what he was studying was a physical reality rather than an etheric one.
In 1939, just before war broke out, he relocated to the United States and continued his researches on the mechanism of the orgasm. His theory while he was in Norway was that the orgasm was an electrochemical release of energy, but around the time he arrived in the United States his experiments convinced him that he had discovered an energy unknown to science, which behaved a little like electricity but was closely linked to biological life. (Sound familiar?) He called this energy "orgone." Experiments with Faraday cages, which are used to shut out electromagnetic radiation, led him to the discovery that certain material structures appear to concentrate orgone. If you make a box of alternating layers of conductive and insulating materials, orgone appears to concentrate within it. Remember Mesmer's baquets, with their layers of conductive metal or water separated by glass and other insulative materials?) That led him to construct boxes large enough to sit in, like the one above, as orgone accumulators. This is where we'll leave him for this week, recruiting volunteers to sit in orgone accumulators and testing the effects on their physical and mental well-being. In next week's installment we'll talk about the strange places Reich's researches led him, and the savage response of the American medical industry to his discoveries.
It's midnight, so we can proceed with a new Magic Monday.
I've also had quite a few people over the years ask me where they should buy my books, and here's the answer. Bookshop.org is an alternative online bookstore that supports local bookstores and authors, which a certain other gargantuan corporation doesn't, and I now have a shop there, which you can check out
I don't know if this is true for other people, but whenever I work on a research project involving occultism, I start fielding those odd bursts of improbable coincidence that Carl Jung called "synchronicities." One of those landed the other day, courtesy of the I
These stages are, respectively: (1) throwing off inharmonious magnetism; (2) blending with the magnetism of the earth; (3) calling down beneficent influences from above; (4) gathering up and charging the aura; (5) sealing the aura. Yes, by the way, the possibility that these exercises might fit somewhere into the prehistory of Peter Kelder's
Despite the usual pushback from the medical profession, the work of Dr. Albert Abrams -- which was discussed in
Some of her innovations turned out to be crucial for the evolution of radionics -- a term which she invented, by the way. Along with the recognition that some force distinct from radio waves and electricity was responsible for radionics cures, she pioneered the "stick pad," a plate of glass or plexiglass used by radionics machine operators to gauge the flow of the unknown force through the machine, and she began the systematic collection of "rates" -- settings on radionics machines -- which are specific to illnesses, organs, and other factors. These became standard elements of radionics during her lifetime and remain common today.
It's getting on for midnight, so we can proceed with a new Magic Monday.
The other day I spent some time at the local public library, which is (thank heavens!) open to the public again. I had fantasy on my mind, because the night before I had finished a reread of Fletcher Pratt's classic fantasy The Well of the Unicorn.
The first third of the twentieth century, when Albert Abrams was perfecting his machines and Leon Eeman was experimenting with biocircuits, was in many ways the golden age of etheric technology. The culture of independent scientific research was still in full flower, old-fashioned occult philosophy was still a major cultural force, and there were plenty of researchers in and out of the scientific community who were willing to buck the materalist dogma of the time and explore the Unseen using the tools of scientific research. One of the most prestigious figures in that movement was Dr. Walter Kilner.
The standard optical filter in his time consisted of alcohol and dye held between two disks of glass, surrounded by a metal frame. That allowed Kilner to experiment with a wide range of dyes, and that led him in turn to an unexpected discovery. If someone spent several minutes looking through a filter that used dicyanin, a common dark blue dye, and then went into a dim room, that person's eyes would be temporarily sensitized to the aura. Repeat the same experience several times and the sensitization became permanent. The technology that resulted from this was simple: a set of goggles that had dicyanin filters in place of lenses, and could be used quite easily by experimenters to sensitize their own eyes and those of experimental subjects.
Kilner published a book on the subject, The Human Atmosphere, in 1911, which you can download for free
It's just getting on for midnight, so we can proceed with a new Magic Monday.
In the wake of
During the years when Dr. Albert Abrams was busy laying the foundations of radionics, other researchers were pursuing their own investigations into the life force. One of them was Leon Eeman, shown on the left. Born in Belgium, he became a British subject and served in the Royal Air Force during the First World War. An airplane crash left him so seriously wounded that he was hospitalized for two years, and the physicians told him he had no hope of making a full recovery.
Of all the etheric technologies we'll be discussing in this series of entries, the Eeman biocircuit is the simplest. In its most basic form it consists of two copper mesh screens connected by wires to two short dowels covered with copper foil. The user lies down on his or her back, with one screen under the head and one under the base of the spine, takes hold of the handles, and crosses the legs at the ankles. The user then relaxes for thirty minutes or so. Eeman found that setting up a relaxation circuit once a day led to significant improvements in health and well-being. My experience, on the occasions when I have had the chance to use a set of Eeman screens, is that he was right: the effect is gentle but definite, and resembles nothing so much as what happens in healing by laying on of hands.
Central to Eeman's approach was the idea that the unknown healing force he was using -- he called it, sensibly enough, the X force -- was bipolar, like magnetism. Where a magnet has two poles, the human body has several, as shown on the left. Bringing the poles into contact with one another, directly or by way of wires, appeared to bring about energy flow with definite effects on the body.
It's just getting on for midnight, so we can proceed with a new Magic Monday.
My wife Sara, who used to work in institutional food service, still keeps track of issues in the industry from time to time. That's the only reason I happen to know that tomorrow is supposed to be National Vegan Day, and that all the usual suspects are banging all the usual drums, trying to tell people what to eat, as though it was any business of theirs. As acting Grand Panjandrum of the
So the learned and respected Dr. Abrams pursued a series of research projects in his spare time, like many of his colleagues. He was very interested in percussion of the abdomen as a diagnostic tool, and found that under certain very specific conditions -- the patient had to be standing, and facing a particular direction -- percussion would accurately diagnose a range of diseases. The one problem was that patients who were very sick couldn't stand up for the prolonged session of percussion Abrams used. So, drawing on the theory that nerve impulses were electrical in nature -- standard medical opinion in his time -- Abrams decided to see if he could hook up a patient with a healthy volunteer using copper headbands, a copper plate under the feet, and wires connecting them. He did, and he found he could get the same diagnostic reactions in the volunteer.
This was fascinating, and it became even more so when he hooked up rheostats (variable resistors) into the wires in an attempt to fine-tune the reaction. He found quite reliably that certain rheostat settings made the percussive response much louder, but only if the patient had some specific illness. He proceeded to run more tests and build more machines, and got stranger and stranger results. He found, for example, that he could take a blood sample from a patient, hook it up to his machines, and get a diagnostic reading from the volunteer's abdomen.
He also started looking into possibilities for treatment using the same principle. The idea of using low-power radio waves for healing was common in the medical scene in those days -- one such method, short-wave diathermy, had already shown considerable promise -- and so he set out to build machines that would use his resistance settings to beam healing radio waves into patients. The sort of giddy mad-scientist hardware shown above soon gave way to elegant Victorian devices like the one on the right -- the first radionics machines, though the term hadn't been invented yet.
It's just getting on for midnight, so we can proceed with a new Magic Monday.
A little while ago I reread Peter Kelder's classic early 20th century occult exercise book, The Eye of Revelation. It's partly a classic because of its framing -- it retails the standard cod story about a seeker finding a strange lamasery in Tibet where he learned mysterious exercises that he brought back to the Western world, and does so in high style -- but it's also a classic because the exercises it teaches, the Five Rites, are good solid physical culture exercises with reliable effects on the material and subtle bodies, and they have a substantial following all over the world these days. (You can read a good description of them
In the illustration that accompanies the text, shown on the right, the placement of vortex D is shown as though you're looking in the mirror. Earlier that led me to confuse it with the Theosophical idea of the spleen center as a major chakra, but this time, I was smart enough to pay attention and notice what the text actually says.
I admit this one came as a bit of a surprise to me, though it shouldn't have...
It's just past midnight, so we can proceed with a new Magic Monday.
Quite a few of my readers took part in last year's experiment with George W. Carey's cell salt protocol, and many others will at least have read along with varying degrees of interest and bemusement. Those who didn't can find the details here: