The Origin of the Deity Myth

THE ORIGIN OF THE DEITY MYTH

“The only gods are between your
ears”. When this statement first appeared in Dark Lily, it caused great shock
to many Occultists. Every religion, orthodox and unorthodox, teaches that there
are external powers, to be invoked, propitiated or exorcised. Almost everyone
on Earth has been brainwashed into believing that he or she is weak, fallible,
dependant upon an external source of power for everything up to and including
life itself. And this is the greatest con-trick in the history of the world.

Do you really want to spend the
rest of your life in thrall to a myth? Especially a myth which has as many or
more human failings than you yourself possess. Consider those quarrelsome,
jealous, back-stabbing, greedy, inadequate beings, so desperately in need of
worship

\[reassurance\]

. Can you think of even one deity who has never behaved in
an uncivilised manner? Would you behave so badly? And that god/goddess is
supposed to be more powerful, more advanced, more enlightened than you.

Even when we accept that the gods
are the products of human minds, we are still aware of a need to believe in
them. Over the millennia, the human race has been so thoroughly indoctrinated
in its own impotency.

The
process began because there have always been a few men (and women) of higher
intelligence than the average. So let us take on example. The caveman with the
highest IQ knew that he was better than his companions. He was cleverer at
figuring out where to hunt the tribe’s food and showing the others how to
protect themselves from the elements. But maybe he could not run so fast in
pursuit of their dinner, maybe he could not swing his club with as much vigour.
So he would never get to be chief of the tribe. He was tolerated because he was
useful, but physical prowess was all that primitive man respected. And the
clever one wanted to be admired. He could not win the admiration by his
reasoning ability, but he could use his mental powers for his advantage.

Because primitive man knew so
little of the world, there were many things that terrified him. He was aware of
his own powerlessness against disease or injury, the elements, abnormal
occurrences such as storms, earthquakes and eclipses. Imagine how you would
feel watching a mushroom cloud on the horizon, even though you know what caused
it. Primitive man did not know what caused the Sun to disappear from the sky,
he did not know whether it would return. So naturally he pleaded with the Sun
to return, lent his own tiny strength to the struggle against the Sun’s
enemies. The Sun and the Storm and other phenomena were more powerful than Man,
and primitive man could not conceive of any form of energy other than his own,
so he personified them as gods.

Super-Intelligent
Caveman knew that these were natural forces, not reasoning entities, and this
knowledge gave him the power he craved. Because he alone in the tribe
understood something of the processes of nature, he could pose and be accepted
as the mouthpiece of the gods. It would be centuries before Super-Intelligent
Caveman’s descendants figured out how to forecast an eclipse, but even the
first High Priest could reassure his terrified flock that the Sun would soon
return to them.

Eventually
the con-trick backfired on the High Priest’s descendants and they also began to
believe that the Sun and the Storm and the Ocean and the Wind were superhuman
beings. Inevitably their human representatives’ faults and failings were
projected on to the “gods”. The process continues today. Doesn’t it seem
strange to realise that the putative anti-hero of our tale, Super-Intelligent
Caveman, was actually more intelligent than most of the people now living on
Earth.

The “gods” are within you. Your
own subconscious contains all the power of the Universe. The difficulty is in
accessing that power. There is no easy route, because that is the path of the
Adept, and that has to be the most difficult quest on Earth or anywhere else.

Anonymous article taken from the Dark Lily Journal No 5,
Society of Dark Lily (London 1988).