Sometimes One Must Descend

Any life path, however it is presented, consists in the continuous accumulation of experience — awareness — that is, the incorporation of ever-new elements into the picture of the world.

In other words, over the course of life a differentiation takes place within the universal whole that surrounds a person: discrete blocks are carved out of that unity and described as objects and phenomena. As a result of this differentiating, descriptive activity, awareness accumulates — that is, the number of elements grows, and their positions within the world’s diversity make it possible to establish relations among them. In practice, grasping these relations often proves more important than understanding the essence of things. This is how the picture of the world is formed, and, strictly speaking, how the world itself of a given person comes into being.

Although the development of awareness generally proceeds in a forward, progressive direction, over time it acquires an oscillatory, zigzag character.

This happens because, as objects accumulate, there come moments when the picture they form becomes closed and unsuitable for further development. Just as the continued growth of many animals requires shedding a shell that has ceased to protect and has become a constraint, so the Way of Power periodically demands a “moulting”: discarding one worldview (one paradigm) and creating a new one. Hence the need to return to a lower level of synthesis and to repeat the steps of increasing awareness of more objects, this time taking into account the presence and influence of new elements that the old paradigm did not consider.

Subjectively, such a “retreat” looks unattractive; it often seems pointless and humiliating. Indeed, a person who senses their own progress, ascending ever higher, suddenly faces a choice: remain on the summit or descend. The summit is often perceived as absolute, as the end of development, and a person who reaches it considers themselves great, mighty, and wise.

They fall into a trap because the Way is endless: it admits no ultimate point, and every summit is merely the next rung. A very large number of those who walk the Way stop at the first summit they reach, refusing to descend, because being on the summit gives them the illusion of broader perspective and superiority. It is very hard to leave such a place. Yet lingering there halts development.

At the same time, continuing the Way requires descent, a return to a “less advanced” state (of course, with accumulated experience taken into account).

Thus the idea of the Magus’s Authority is born.

It turns out that the two components of the Way — Power and Authority — form a pair and are equally necessary for progress. We have already said a great deal about Power elsewhere. Authority, by contrast, is the ability to find solutions in new situations. In other words, Power is the height of one’s flight, the degree to which one’s potential is realized, while Authority is what remains when Power for some reason disappears. In this matter, it is Authority that is required so that, having descended from a local summit, one does not climb back onto it and become locked in a vicious cycle of repetition, but instead ascends to the next, higher — though again local — summit, descends from it, and continues onward. Even the acquisition of these primary qualities of the Magus happens differently: Power is hunted, while Authority is earned. Gaining Power is largely spontaneous; gaining Authority comes from steady progress along the Way.

We see that proper development requires both the accumulation of Power, which allows one to ascend ever higher (since Power, as is known, grows through use), and Authority, which is necessary for an adequate assessment of one’s position, abilities, and limits, and which ensures advancement from a lower level while taking into account prior experience at higher levels.