Not all initiations begin with candles and blindfolds. Some begin in silence. Some begin with panic. Some begin the moment you stop pretending.

Many people see leaving a high-control group like O.T.O. as a collapse—even a failure—especially if you leave angry. But what if it’s something else entirely?

The Four Powers of the Sphinx—To Know, To Will, To Dare, and To Keep Silent—are mainstays of Thelemic magick. In O.T.O., they’re meant to culminate in the integrity of the body of light. But what if these powers aren’t ceremonial ideals?

What if they’re ceremonies of self-reclamation? 

What if they’re the very path of leaving?

♒ To Know: The Audit

Over my 11 years in O.T.O., I gradually rose through the ranks. I didn’t just rack up degrees. I gained influence and power. I’ve been accused of having left O.T.O. because I didn’t get my way. The truth is: O.T.O. bestowed many honors on me. But while my status outwardly grew, something else was happening inside of me: the disquieting realization that the values the organization was supposed to be committed to—and which I was following and teaching to new people—weren’t being followed by the organization’s top leadership. 

Rather than ignore this disparity, I turned toward it. I began asking myself the same questions I told all new Minervals to regularly ask themselves:

• What was I investing?
• What was I getting back?
• What was I becoming in the process?

Despite the fact that self-knowledge is a requirement of O.T.O. early degree work, most never go through this process. They never discover their true will or put it in words. They never reflect it against the true will of O.T.O.—the actual will, not the one on paper. And by the time they begin to register the disparity at the level of the body—in the form of exhaustion or even panic attacks—it’s too late. They believe they’ve sunk too much into the organization to ask hard questions, and so they continue on until their body no longer lets them. That’s how people burn out—or flame out.

I never let it get to that point. I chose my own time, emotional energy, vitality, and eroticism over the organization. But as my loyalty to my own true will sharpened, so did the constant distortion the organization demanded of me. 

And its cost. 

♌ To Dare – The Refusal

I sat down and did the math. I worked out on paper how my role as lodge master—once accepted with a clear agreement about boundaries, vision, and support—had become structurally impossible to fulfill. I wrote out the numerous examples in which I had been:

• Undermined when setting appropriate boundaries
• Disregarded when upholding leadership standards
• Triangulated, surveilled, and pressured emotionally by upper-degree members
• Punished, not supported, for doing my job with clarity and discipline

I realized what my position required of me—constant emotional labor, political endurance, and tolerance for hypocrisy—was no longer aligned with my ethics, energy, or vision for communal spiritual work.

This was the hardest moment. I wanted to look away. I wanted to pretend there was a way forward. The contradiction hit like a wave—visceral, undeniable. I was hit with fear—even existential dread. 

But this is where the courage to stay with the truth and see it clearly was so important. Because it eventually became clear to me: the contradiction I was facing was not between staying in O.T.O. and leaving. It was between self-loyalty and self-abandonment. 

I chose self-loyalty, and I stepped down. 

Because staying would have meant betraying myself.

♉ To Will – The Shift in Power

After the choice was made, I still had a lot of work in front of me: 

• Meeting with the President of the Electoral College to plan a transition
• Breaking it to my officers why I was stepping down
• Dealing with the retaliation and drama from my lodge’s upper degrees
• And ultimately walking out the door

But everything was an order of magnitude easier. The first step I took was the most difficult—but every step after that got easier. 

This is exactly what Crowley means when he says that a person doing their will has the inertia of the universe to assist them. When you’re no longer at war with yourself, all of your power returns to you. You see yourself in proportion. And in my case, I saw I towered over the institution—and everyone in it.

For those of you reading this who find yourself stuck in seemingly impossible situations—toxic workplaces, family systems, or romantic relationships—ask yourself:

• What am I giving my power to?
• What am I getting in return?
• What options am I hiding from myself? 

Will is the central concept in Thelema, but it is endlessly mystified. Let’s bring it down to earth:

To will is to refuse distortion. Distortion for others. But distortion for ourselves in the service of misguided ideals and dreams.

♏ To Keep Silent – The Grail of Fire

People have written weekly—sometimes daily—to say just how gosh darn “concerned” they are that I’ve spoken out against O.T.O. New Agers are soaked in therapyese. They won’t say “I’ll pray for you.” Instead they say ridiculous things like, “I hope you feel better soon. :)” while not caring at all—or even hating you.

And I’ve generously replied—both to them and other nasty commenters—not because I think their concern for me is sincere or because I hope to convince them. But because I want onlookers to see—that you can stand up to bullies:

• Without melting down
• Without explaining yourself
• Without accepting their framing
• Without needing anything—at all—from them

Not everyone leaves the same way. Some people leave in a fractured, fragile state. It takes them years to reclaim themselves and their narrative. I honor those people and their path.

I reclaimed myself and my voice while still inside. That made me a foreign organism, but it also allowed me to act from a place of inner power that others may not have had the moment they walked out the door. 

Every week I receive comments to the effect of, “We miss your videos on magick and occult philosophy. I hope you get therapy soon [you fucking low-life piece of shit].”

Let me be clear: this was magick. Not ceremony or symbolism, but the presence of living fire.

That’s not arrogance—it’s recognition.

I didn’t leave O.T.O. because I couldn’t handle it. I left because I became what its rituals only gesture toward.

Once the fire moved through me, silence meant something different.

Staying became impossible.

So did shame.

🔥They Didn’t Initiate Me. I Did.

There are two critical moments in the initiation rituals of O.T.O. They occur right next to each other:

One is the inexpressibility of true mystery. The other is unshakable trust in oneself.

They are both connected.

Because the real mystery can’t be handed to you.  It can only be found the moment you refuse distortion. The moment you become sovereign. The moment you walk away, with your fire intact.

They didn’t initiate me. 

I did.