Why I Left OTO – And What I Saw
Recorded May 24, 2025.
For over a decade, I was an active member of Ordo Templi Orientis. I served as an officer in my lodge. I served as clergy and as a chartered initiator. And eventually I served as Master of my local body.
I helped run initiations, develop officers, and create the kinds of rituals and events that inspire people to stay.
But earlier this month, I formally resigned from the Order.
And I want to speak—not to retaliate, not to expose—but to witness.
Everything I’m sharing is my own perception, based on contemporaneous records and direct participation. I’m happy to correct any verifiable error.
What this video is—and what it isn’t
This isn’t an exposé. It isn’t a dosier of names. It isn’t a call to action.
This is a record. It’s a mark in the ledger. And it is an account closed with integrity.
Why I joined
When I came to O.T.O., I came with sincerity and curiosity.
I was new to the city. I didn’t know anyone. But I had a background in meditation, ritual, and spiritual practice—and I’d been influenced by Aleister Crowley’s writings.
Over time, I earned trust. I trained others. I took on more responsibility. Eventually, I was appointed Master of a thriving local body.
And I carried that role with care. Not as a status symbol. Not as a title to protect—but as a duty to serve.
Why I left
I didn’t leave because I burned out. I didn’t leave in a moment of anger. I left because I saw patterns I couldn’t justify.
Patterns I tried to address—nearly continuously for almost the entire time I was in the Order.
My experience of trying to address those issues felt like running into an invisible wall—over and over.
From my vantage point, several patterns kept surfacing:
- I often felt emotional pressure and triangulation replaced the clear, principled leadership I expected.
- Situations appeared to reward loyalty more than transparency or ethics.
- Decisions frequently seemed to be shaped in back‑channels, with unofficial preferences edging out written policy.
- What I perceived to be overreach into members’ private lives—their non-OTO projects and even personal relationships—happened more than once in my tenure.
- It was brought to my attention—through multiple first-hand reports I trust—that my words or social media posts were discussed in rooms I wasn’t invited to—a kind of quiet surveillance that replaced open dialogue.
- And in my view, actions I experienced as threatening went unaddressed when they involved well‑connected insiders.
Over the years, I took my concerns through every official channel the Order provides. Each time I spelled them out as calmly and clearly as I could, backing them—to my mind—with ample documentation.
The responses I received — and, in some instances, the silence that followed — spoke volumes to me.
The deeper truth
What I came to realize is this:
A spiritual system that protects dysfunction more efficiently than it protects its people is not a path of transformation.
It is a culture of containment.
And I could no longer participate in that—not without violating my own values.
So I stepped down. And then I left. Not in a storm. Not in a fit of anger. But with clarity. And with the deep conviction that my will, my honesty, and my wholeness matter more than institutional belonging.
To those who feel the dissonance
If you’re watching this and thinking, “Yes. That’s what I’ve seen too.”
Please know:
You’re not crazy. You’re not alone. And it wasn’t your failure to submit, or serve, or to love, that broke it. It was the system’s failure to be worthy of your integrity.
A few months back I published an ebook about the spirituality of OTO called The Adventures of a God. This morning I removed that ebook from my store. I will no longer make money promoting OTO.
Closing
I still believe in the path of true will. I still believe in initiation. I still believe in community grounded in sovereignty.
But I no longer believe those things can flourish in a structure that rewards silence, rewards complicity, and quietly punishes those who speak the truth.
I’m done participating in that.
Thank you for listening. Thank you for trusting your own clarity.
If anyone believes I’ve misstated a fact, please reach out; I’m committed to accuracy.