The Initiation that Wasn’t in the O.T.O. Ritual

I’ve been through a lot of initiations over the years. 

Honestly, most of them were pretty cool. And in an age that’s lost the ability to mark the major passages of life with true solemnity, group sacredness can feel novel. 

But none of them prepared me for what I just lived through.

Because one of the most powerful initiations I’ve ever undergone didn’t happen in a temple.

It happened in public, under pressure, while I felt misrepresented, discounted, and steadily erased.

Last month was one of the hardest of my life.

Not because I was disempowered. Not because I was confused.

But because I chose integrity over acceptance.

Because I refused to play a role just to keep my position.

Because I decided that protecting my clarity was more important than protecting my status.

I walked away from institutional power—on purpose.

And in doing so, I learned something I’ll never forget:

Real power doesn’t come from titles, or status, or being part of somebody’s Discord.

Real power comes from alignment.

It comes from integrity.

And it comes from the ability to pull back.

From your emotions.

From the present.

And from the mere appearance of authority. 

I realized there was no power in this thing—this structure, this role, this performance—other than what I put into it.

And when I stepped back, I didn’t lose power.

I reclaimed it.

From what felt like a system that only seemed to thrive when people stayed small.

From one that, in my experience, rewarded selective self‑silencing.

From one I experienced as rewarding conformity and emotional self‑abandonment.

This wasn’t just a resignation.

It was a spiritual act.

It was a rejection of shadow loyalty and a return to truth.

Because for me, power is irreversibility.

And I did something irreversible.

I told the truth.

And I walked away.

I won’t pretend it was easy.

I felt everything.

The grief, the anger, the loneliness of choosing wholeness when others would have preferred I fracture.

When I say it felt like an initiation, I don’t mean that in some romantic, spiritualized way.

Sometimes people talk about going through an initiation, and what they mean is facing the consequences of impulsive choices. This wasn’t that. 

It was a controlled action. A conscious step.

Crowley once wrote of the 3rd degree initiation of OTO:

“I then proceed to the climax of its career in death and show how this sacrament both consecrates (or, rather, sets its seal upon) the previous procedure and gives a meaning thereto, just as the auditing of the account enables the merchant to see his year’s transactions in perspective.”

That’s what this was.

This was the audit.

I balanced the books.

I cashed in my chips.

I took what belonged to me—no more, no less. And I walked out with my integrity intact.

I didn’t abandon my power.

I simply stopped outsourcing it.

Initiation isn’t about being welcomed into the club.

It’s about what you’re willing to sacrifice to remain whole.

And sometimes, the true initiation comes after you walk out.

When the robes come off.

When the candles are blown out.

When the only authority you have left is your own voice—and you find it still speaking.

Still clear.

Still aligned.

If you’re going through something like this—if you’ve felt erased, betrayed, or punished for staying true to yourself—let me say this:

You’re not alone.

There are other people like you out there.

And you’re not broken.

You may just be passing through an initiation of your own.

Not the kind they give you a sash or a thumb ring for.

The kind where what no longer serves you falls or burns away.

And you finally realize you don’t need a title.

You were already sovereign.