God, Magick, and Madness: Reclaiming Spirituality Beyond Religion and Psychiatry

Why would someone who doesn’t subscribe to religion, who sees God not as a bearded man in the sky but as a non-intervening, benevolent force—and who views magick not as supernatural but as a natural function of the human brain—bother to speak about magick and religion at all?

Because it’s endlessly fascinating.

For millennia, humanity has used stories of gods, demons, angels, and devils to explain the unknown. These beings always seem to behave suspiciously like us—jealous, vengeful, forgiving, or petty. We project our faults and fears onto them, using the divine as a scapegoat to avoid responsibility. And just as often, those in power have used fear of divine punishment to manipulate the masses.

The narrative is ancient and familiar: disobey and be punished; obey and be rewarded. But this moral framework is not divine—it’s political. It’s the architecture of control, not compassion.

What’s more, the tragic irony is that genuine religious experience—spiritual awakening, mystical insight, visionary transformation—is often pathologized. Religious delusion is considered a key symptom of mental illness. And many of the medications prescribed to “treat” such symptoms have well-documented side effects: hallucinations, suicidality, anxiety, even violent behavior.(Mad in America)

Despite all this, I still believe in God. Twice in my life, I was clinically dead. Once, for a full five minutes. Both times, I encountered what I can only describe as a benevolent presence. It wasn’t euphoric, it wasn’t confusing—it was deeply peaceful. No gods or demons. No lights or tunnels. Just a clear, quiet certainty that everything was going to be okay.

By contrast, I’ve had drug-induced hallucinations where gods punished me, demons chased me, and all manner of mythical creatures tormented me in surreal horror-movie sequences. Those experiences were chaotic, paranoid, and deeply disturbing.

But even those experiences shaped me. They forced me to consider how humans create mythology. They forced me to confront the strange power of story. They made me think, just like our ancestors did when they looked at the stars and imagined gods in the sky.

Religions have done immense good. They’ve built hospitals, fed the hungry, housed the poor, and comforted the grieving. At their best, they bind people together with shared purpose and collective compassion.

But they’ve also caused tremendous harm. Genocides, inquisitions, forced conversions, wars, and witch hunts. People with schizophrenia have been burned at the stake. Herbalists were labeled witches and tortured. Predators infiltrated clergy ranks and were protected by bureaucracies too powerful to touch.

And it isn’t just Catholicism. Abuse has occurred in Protestant communities, missionary groups, foster care systems, and beyond. Catholicism made headlines because it had deep pockets. Others flew under the radar because there was no one to sue and no media incentive to expose them.

The truth is: humans created religion, not the other way around. We took dreams and visions, coded metaphors and myth, and turned them into institutions. Then we used those institutions to control, reward, and punish.

That’s why I proposed something else: a new, sensible, non-dualistic religion—what I call Ethical Essentialism—outlined in another essay (Ethical Essentialism). It rejects the idea of a punitive God. It doesn’t fight science. It welcomes struggle as part of growth. It honors personal responsibility. And it encourages creativity, adaptation, and gratitude.

What I’ve learned from both religion and psychiatry is this: Gratitude is essential. So is attitude.

You can choose to blame others for your suffering, or you can choose to work with what you’ve been given. Every one of us will experience marginalization, misunderstanding, and difficulty. No one is immune—not even those who seem to have power.

Therapists used to tell me: "You see things in black and white because of your brain injury. You need clarity, and others need to understand that to communicate well with you." But what I heard over and over again was: “That’s your problem, deal with it.” I had to fight for everything I’ve achieved. My condition was used to undermine my credibility. Even loved ones would minimize it.

It’s tempting to retreat into bitterness, to see everything through a lens of victimhood. But victimhood is a mindset. And magick—real magick—is a mindset too.

It’s the mindset of transformation.

Human beings are magical creatures. We shape reality with our thoughts, words, and actions. Whether through prayer, visualization, intention, ritual, or storytelling, we influence ourselves and others in profound ways. That’s magick. It’s not supernatural. It’s just what happens when we show up with focus, clarity, and commitment.

So yes, I talk about magick and religion—even as I dismantle their illusions—because both speak to something deeper in us. They remind us that our lives matter, that our choices matter, and that, despite the chaos, we are capable of meaning.

And that, my friend, is the real miracle.

My business is using symbols to help people feel better and be more successful using the brain’s ability to do what it naturally does, and is backed by Neuroscience. Yes, it is magical the things we can achieve if we just hack our brain’s natural capacities.

http://www.occultamagica.net.

I invite anyone to debate with me or make an offer for me to speak to any group.