Theosophy

coastalfalcon61 said:I suppose there’s a reason why I edit certain dialogues. Spirituality is such a vast field, and I don't think it should ever be narrowed down to just one single approach, teaching, or specific goal. To be honest, I sometimes notice a bit of an irritating streak in the way you express yourself and approach things—and please don't take this the wrong way—that feels somewhere between mocking others and acting like you have all the answers from some high horse. I guess I just don't want to risk your style or your perspective killing anyone's desire to join in on a discussion, especially other people here who are interested in spirituality but might be looking at it through different lenses or traditions. I wouldn't want every conversation to turn into a contest of wits or a way to shut people down instead of being constructive and actually building something together.
If someone doesn't understand something, I feel like—well, within this forum environment, since real life is a different story entirely—it’s better to either explain it kindly or just stay quiet... using riddles, asking leading questions meant to highlight how someone else is wrong, or using broken, disjointed sentences that only make sense to the person writing them, isn't really helpful. It just seems to cause more misunderstanding and maybe even a bit of resentment.

Mr. Mr. Perfect, your notions of "constructiveness" and "creation" belong to the realm of mundane, everyday existence. We navigate this world with the body and mind we were granted, much like our DNA dictates our physical reality. There is a glaring contradiction in your logic: you attempt to exert unnecessary, pedantic control through modeling and moderation. What exactly is your endgame here? Are you seeking some illusion of authority? For what purpose?
You are overthinking this.

coastalfalcon61 said:I suppose there’s a reason why I edit certain dialogues. Spirituality is such a vast field, and I don't think it should ever be narrowed down to just one single approach, teaching, or specific goal. To be honest, I sometimes notice a bit of an irritating streak in the way you express yourself and approach things—and please don't take this the wrong way—that feels somewhere between mocking others and acting like you have all the answers from some high horse. I guess I just don't want to risk your style or your perspective killing anyone's desire to join in on a discussion, especially other people here who are interested in spirituality but might be looking at it through different lenses or traditions. I wouldn't want every conversation to turn into a contest of wits or a way to shut people down instead of being constructive and actually building something together.
If someone doesn't understand something, I feel like—well, within this forum environment, since real life is a different story entirely—it’s better to either explain it kindly or just stay quiet... using riddles, asking leading questions meant to highlight how someone else is wrong, or using broken, disjointed sentences that only make sense to the person writing them, isn't really helpful. It just seems to cause more misunderstanding and maybe even a bit of resentment.

Truth... I usually dive in headfirst for a few days, get all caught up in the excitement, and then I just lose my rhythm when I see the crew is more interested in mental gymnastics—basically playing "Me vs. Everyone Else"...

Good luck with all that active moderating, though. Not sure how long you'll have the patience for it... but props to you regardless for the effort.

Brian Young76 said:Well, I suppose if we’re strictly talking about Western classical music, Bach would be the absolute gold standard for that argument.

But jazz... man, there simply aren't any notes on a page that could ever truly capture what someone like Charlie Parker was doing. First off, you have the rhythm—that incredible rhythmic variety—and standard Western notation, which relies on those rigid integer divisions of time, just isn't equipped to document it. And then you have to account for the subtle shifts in timbre, those delicate ghost notes, and the way a phrase is shaped...

To my mind, jazz is fundamentally spiritual music; it carries this profound emotional message that can't be reduced to ink on paper. You really have to hear it live to actually grasp its essence.

Exactly. Jazz serves as a perfect example of moving away from classical constraints. In classical theory, when building chord progressions, you generally stick to tones within a specific scale. Jazz doesn't play by those rules; a simple four-chord progression might pull tones from as many as four different scales simultaneously.

Jazz also utilizes harmonies that don't attempt to minimize tension, which is why it can sound so dissonant.

Regarding the physics of beats and interference, there is a decent read on the subject here:
http://www.precisionstrobe.com/apps/...mp/temper.html

Anyway, I’d like to pivot back to Theosophy for a moment.
Why do I hold any affection for Theosophists? It isn't necessarily because of their doctrines—which can be quite cacophonous and bear a striking resemblance to today's New Age movements (it's a bit of a mixed bag, really).

However, a few things about them are genuinely compelling:
1. During H. P. Blavatsky's era, Theosophists were essentially adventurers. They sought out cultures that have since been swallowed by a materialistic world (for instance, one could argue the most aggressive drivers of modern corporate exploitation are certain groups in India). Look at places like Nepal or the Vajra cults, or even the Dugpa mentioned by Blavatsky (the Buddhist sects like Dag Dugpa or Drukpa). They documented these expeditions in their writings, providing us with a historical record we can still study today.

2. They possessed some incredible scientific outliers. Take, for example, Crookes' spiral periodic system, which alternative scientists today use to try and explain that mysterious, degenerate matter they call ORMEs. Sir William Crookes was a Theosophist—or at least closely linked to the movement—and his system was embraced by Theosophists through their occult chemistry.
https://theosophy.wiki/en/William_Crookes

3. Regardless of how one views the man himself, Leadbeater's work describes multiple planes of existence—concepts that later inspired Anthroposophists like Rudolf Steiner.

Paul Ross2 said:Exactly. Jazz serves as a perfect example of moving away from classical constraints. In classical theory, when building chord progressions, you generally stick to tones within a specific scale. Jazz doesn't play by those rules; a simple four-chord progression might pull tones from as many as four different scales simultaneously.

Jazz also utilizes harmonies that don't attempt to minimize tension, which is why it can sound so dissonant.

Regarding the physics of beats and interference, there is a decent read on the subject here:
http://www.precisionstrobe.com/apps/...mp/temper.html

Anyway, I’d like to pivot back to Theosophy for a moment.
Why do I hold any affection for Theosophists? It isn't necessarily because of their doctrines—which can be quite cacophonous and bear a striking resemblance to today's New Age movements (it's a bit of a mixed bag, really).

However, a few things about them are genuinely compelling:
1. During H. P. Blavatsky's era, Theosophists were essentially adventurers. They sought out cultures that have since been swallowed by a materialistic world (for instance, one could argue the most aggressive drivers of modern corporate exploitation are certain groups in India). Look at places like Nepal or the Vajra cults, or even the Dugpa mentioned by Blavatsky (the Buddhist sects like Dag Dugpa or Drukpa). They documented these expeditions in their writings, providing us with a historical record we can still study today.

2. They possessed some incredible scientific outliers. Take, for example, Crookes' spiral periodic system, which alternative scientists today use to try and explain that mysterious, degenerate matter they call ORMEs. Sir William Crookes was a Theosophist—or at least closely linked to the movement—and his system was embraced by Theosophists through their occult chemistry.
https://theosophy.wiki/en/William_Crookes

3. Regardless of how one views the man himself, Leadbeater's work describes multiple planes of existence—concepts that later inspired Anthroposophists like Rudolf Steiner.

That sounds like the words of a man in the desert searching for a single drop of water. And honestly, I get it.
But my only interest is finding the truth straight from the source.

I'm only responding to you because of Steiner. To say Leadbeater inspired Steiner is a massive stretch. In modern Theosophical circles—even here in the States—there’s this prevailing idea that Steiner "betrayed" Blavatsky, which is a blatant lie. Now that you've reminded me, I realized I called Leadbeater "notorious," a term I likely picked up from Steiner himself, who once referred to Leadbeater in that exact way.

Paul Ross2 said:Exactly. Jazz serves as a perfect example of moving away from classical constraints. In classical theory, when building chord progressions, you generally stick to tones within a specific scale. Jazz doesn't play by those rules; a simple four-chord progression might pull tones from as many as four different scales simultaneously.

Jazz also utilizes harmonies that don't attempt to minimize tension, which is why it can sound so dissonant.

Regarding the physics of beats and interference, there is a decent read on the subject here:
http://www.precisionstrobe.com/apps/...mp/temper.html

Anyway, I’d like to pivot back to Theosophy for a moment.
Why do I hold any affection for Theosophists? It isn't necessarily because of their doctrines—which can be quite cacophonous and bear a striking resemblance to today's New Age movements (it's a bit of a mixed bag, really).

However, a few things about them are genuinely compelling:
1. During H. P. Blavatsky's era, Theosophists were essentially adventurers. They sought out cultures that have since been swallowed by a materialistic world (for instance, one could argue the most aggressive drivers of modern corporate exploitation are certain groups in India). Look at places like Nepal or the Vajra cults, or even the Dugpa mentioned by Blavatsky (the Buddhist sects like Dag Dugpa or Drukpa). They documented these expeditions in their writings, providing us with a historical record we can still study today.

2. They possessed some incredible scientific outliers. Take, for example, Crookes' spiral periodic system, which alternative scientists today use to try and explain that mysterious, degenerate matter they call ORMEs. Sir William Crookes was a Theosophist—or at least closely linked to the movement—and his system was embraced by Theosophists through their occult chemistry.
https://theosophy.wiki/en/William_Crookes

3. Regardless of how one views the man himself, Leadbeater's work describes multiple planes of existence—concepts that later inspired Anthroposophists like Rudolf Steiner.

And those worlds he describes don't exist—at least, not in the way he claims they do. I'm not saying the Devachan or astral planes aren't real, but his descriptions have zero correlation with reality. I picked up that little pamphlet on the Devachan variety last night just to flip through it—I wasn't interested in it even when I was a kid—and honestly? It’s useless. First off, it doesn't actually explain anything about the Devachan variety; once you finish reading, you aren't any closer to understanding it—you're just confused. The West only heard about the Devachan level through Leadbeater, and they swallowed it whole without any other framework or way to compare it to anything else. The only thing in his little book that actually connects to the Devachan is the title itself, and then people spend all their time debating whether he actually understood what the Devachan was or if he was just playing around with astral planes. Leadbeater didn't know anything about anything; he was just spinning his own theories regarding the Devachan, the astral planes, and so on. I've read several of his other booklets, and they are all equally pointless—at best, you walk away with wrong impressions because someone with no clue can just ramble about whatever pops into their head... which is exactly what happens here. Everything he wrote is worthless and explains nothing. I reread the Devachan variety again last night, and if someone were to ask me, "Okay, you read it, so what does it say about the Devachan level?" 🤔🤔🤔 I wouldn't be able to summarize it for them, because it says absolutely nothing.
My two previous posts on this thread contain more substance and sense regarding the Devachan variety—offering at least a hint of an actual impression—than you could ever find in Leadbeater's entire body of work.

I’m genuinely curious: what basis do people have for judging whether Leadbeater "mastered" the Devachan or the astral planes? He only knows what the Devachan and astral planes are because he learned it from Leadbeater, which means he knows absolutely nothing and is completely muddled on the subject.

I truly see no contribution from Leadbeater to anything whatsoever, let alone to our understanding of the astral, the astral planes, the Devachan, etc. In fact, he just created a massive mess, leaving us with people who use his nonsense to claim he mastered certain things when he actually mastered nothing. If anyone thinks otherwise, feel free to try and convince me.

Since we're discussing Theosophy and its literature: back in the day, I actually liked Blavatsky's *The Secret Doctrine*—regardless of whether she received those messages from Ascended Masters or just sent them to herself—just so it doesn't seem like I have some blanket vendetta against Theosophy.

Drew Moore5 said:That sounds like the words of a man in the desert searching for a single drop of water. And honestly, I get it.
But my only interest is finding the truth straight from the source.

I'm only responding to you because of Steiner. To say Leadbeater inspired Steiner is a massive stretch. In modern Theosophical circles—even here in the States—there’s this prevailing idea that Steiner "betrayed" Blavatsky, which is a blatant lie. Now that you've reminded me, I realized I called Leadbeater "notorious," a term I likely picked up from Steiner himself, who once referred to Leadbeater in that exact way.

The word "notorious" is quite versatile, isn't it? It can mean something obvious or self-evident, but it also carries that heavy weight of being well-known for something sinister.
I assume Leadbeater was viewed through that more infamous lens. It’s the same way people spoke about Aleister Crowley; they labeled him "the worst man in the world."

You hear similar things regarding Dietrich Eckart or even Landulf II of Capua.

To be honest, having been in that position myself, I can tell you one thing: while it might look like an unenviable spot to be in, it’s actually quite comfortable.

Don't get me wrong, I am no devotee of Leadbeater. I view his books with the same level of scrutiny as I do the works of Milovan Milovanović Slavinsky—who is also considered notorious in certain American circles. But in today’s hyper-materialistic landscape—full of shopping malls, TED speakers, and generations obsessed with nothing but the bottom line—Leadbeater is actually somewhat refreshing. Steiner, especially.

As for Blavatsky... she’s like Däniken to me. You read her because she was there, witnessing it firsthand. You simply bypass the interpretations or approach them with a healthy dose of skepticism.
http://www.katinkahesselink.net/his/...blavatsky.html

Paul Rogers94 said:And those worlds he describes don't exist—at least, not in the way he claims they do. I'm not saying the Devachan or astral planes aren't real, but his descriptions have zero correlation with reality. I picked up that little pamphlet on the Devachan variety last night just to flip through it—I wasn't interested in it even when I was a kid—and honestly? It’s useless. First off, it doesn't actually explain anything about the Devachan variety; once you finish reading, you aren't any closer to understanding it—you're just confused. The West only heard about the Devachan level through Leadbeater, and they swallowed it whole without any other framework or way to compare it to anything else. The only thing in his little book that actually connects to the Devachan is the title itself, and then people spend all their time debating whether he actually understood what the Devachan was or if he was just playing around with astral planes. Leadbeater didn't know anything about anything; he was just spinning his own theories regarding the Devachan, the astral planes, and so on. I've read several of his other booklets, and they are all equally pointless—at best, you walk away with wrong impressions because someone with no clue can just ramble about whatever pops into their head... which is exactly what happens here. Everything he wrote is worthless and explains nothing. I reread the Devachan variety again last night, and if someone were to ask me, "Okay, you read it, so what does it say about the Devachan level?" 🤔🤔🤔 I wouldn't be able to summarize it for them, because it says absolutely nothing.
My two previous posts on this thread contain more substance and sense regarding the Devachan variety—offering at least a hint of an actual impression—than you could ever find in Leadbeater's entire body of work.

I’m genuinely curious: what basis do people have for judging whether Leadbeater "mastered" the Devachan or the astral planes? He only knows what the Devachan and astral planes are because he learned it from Leadbeater, which means he knows absolutely nothing and is completely muddled on the subject.

I truly see no contribution from Leadbeater to anything whatsoever, let alone to our understanding of the astral, the astral planes, the Devachan, etc. In fact, he just created a massive mess, leaving us with people who use his nonsense to claim he mastered certain things when he actually mastered nothing. If anyone thinks otherwise, feel free to try and convince me.

Since we're discussing Theosophy and its literature: back in the day, I actually liked Blavatsky's *The Secret Doctrine*—regardless of whether she received those messages from Ascended Masters or just sent them to herself—just so it doesn't seem like I have some blanket vendetta against Theosophy.

The thing about Theosophists is that they are salon spiritualists—much like many socialists tend to be salon intellectuals.
I don't view that as a negative, per se. Sometimes a person needs a certain kind of salon movement where one can seek out intellectual nourishment over a morning coffee in a New York cafe.

In all honesty, I’d love to travel back to Blavatsky’s era just to rub elbows with that crowd.

Paul Ross2 said:Exactly. Jazz serves as a perfect example of moving away from classical constraints. In classical theory, when building chord progressions, you generally stick to tones within a specific scale. Jazz doesn't play by those rules; a simple four-chord progression might pull tones from as many as four different scales simultaneously.

Jazz also utilizes harmonies that don't attempt to minimize tension, which is why it can sound so dissonant.

Regarding the physics of beats and interference, there is a decent read on the subject here:
http://www.precisionstrobe.com/apps/...mp/temper.html

Anyway, I’d like to pivot back to Theosophy for a moment.
Why do I hold any affection for Theosophists? It isn't necessarily because of their doctrines—which can be quite cacophonous and bear a striking resemblance to today's New Age movements (it's a bit of a mixed bag, really).

However, a few things about them are genuinely compelling:
1. During H. P. Blavatsky's era, Theosophists were essentially adventurers. They sought out cultures that have since been swallowed by a materialistic world (for instance, one could argue the most aggressive drivers of modern corporate exploitation are certain groups in India). Look at places like Nepal or the Vajra cults, or even the Dugpa mentioned by Blavatsky (the Buddhist sects like Dag Dugpa or Drukpa). They documented these expeditions in their writings, providing us with a historical record we can still study today.

2. They possessed some incredible scientific outliers. Take, for example, Crookes' spiral periodic system, which alternative scientists today use to try and explain that mysterious, degenerate matter they call ORMEs. Sir William Crookes was a Theosophist—or at least closely linked to the movement—and his system was embraced by Theosophists through their occult chemistry.
https://theosophy.wiki/en/William_Crookes

3. Regardless of how one views the man himself, Leadbeater's work describes multiple planes of existence—concepts that later inspired Anthroposophists like Rudolf Steiner.

I feel like you might have missed my central point, though. We definitely agree that harmony is essentially mathematics. However, I would argue that rhythm—specifically improvised rhythm—and timbre, or what we call phrasing, are entirely different animals. To me, that's where the fundamental distinction lies between jazz and the mathematical precision of classical music.

On a side note, does anyone know if there was ever a theosophist who also happened to be a jazz musician? Let's get back to our main topic. 😁

Brian Young76 said:I feel like you might have missed my central point, though. We definitely agree that harmony is essentially mathematics. However, I would argue that rhythm—specifically improvised rhythm—and timbre, or what we call phrasing, are entirely different animals. To me, that's where the fundamental distinction lies between jazz and the mathematical precision of classical music.

On a side note, does anyone know if there was ever a theosophist who also happened to be a jazz musician? Let's get back to our main topic. 😁

Timbre is essentially the harmonic spectrum, which can be broken down into fundamental and higher harmonics via Fourier analysis.
Any complex sound—that complexity being what we perceive as timbre—is composed of a multitude of harmonics (sine waves), which are simply multiples of a fundamental frequency. This base frequency constitutes the fundamental harmonic, while the higher harmonics split into even and odd components, given that the Fourier transform can be represented through sine and cosine transforms, where sines and cosines serve as odd and even functions, respectively.
Think of it this way: when you strike a key on a piano, the string doesn't just vibrate at a single frequency. If you hit an A, say at 880Hz, that's merely the fundamental harmonic. The string is simultaneously vibrating with numerous higher harmonics (multiples of that frequency). On top of that, the intensities of these individual components shift over time—transients, envelopes, and so on. What we hear collectively as a piano tone is the summation of all those vibrations. And why does that same pitch sound nothing like a trumpet? Because the trumpet has a completely different distribution of harmonic intensities, even if the fundamental tone is identical at 880 Hz. In a piano, you have a string fixed at both ends; in a trumpet, you have a column of air within a tube, also constrained by two ends.

So, there is your math. When analyzing strikes, one must analyze the impact on all the higher harmonics, not just the fundamentals. This is precisely why chords exist and sound consonant to us—we play harmonic instruments (where the vibrating medium is fixed at both ends), which makes these specific intervals sound harmonious.

As for rhythm? Rhythm is arguably even more mathematical; it just operates at much lower frequencies. We deal with 3/4 time signatures, and you'll find that certain folk traditions, like those found in parts of the North America, love variations involving 3/4 and 7/8. Their traditional music is built on this, and any seasoned folk percussionist can nail these complex rhythms that would trip up even the most elite rock drummers. For instance, take a rock drummer like Garabet (Gara) Tavitjan from Leb and Sol; he sounds exotic to the uninitiated, but if you asked a professional percussionist from a traditional jazz ensemble or a folk band, they’d probably roll their eyes and say, "If my apprentice can't play that, he's not joining the band."

The ratios of 4/3 or 7/8 are still just ratios of small integers.

Give him a listen (Aber Dojde Donke, Leb and Sol):

It’s actually quite similar to:


And here is a folk drummer playing on handmade drums:

Paul Ross2 said:The word "notorious" is quite versatile, isn't it? It can mean something obvious or self-evident, but it also carries that heavy weight of being well-known for something sinister.
I assume Leadbeater was viewed through that more infamous lens. It’s the same way people spoke about Aleister Crowley; they labeled him "the worst man in the world."

You hear similar things regarding Dietrich Eckart or even Landulf II of Capua.

To be honest, having been in that position myself, I can tell you one thing: while it might look like an unenviable spot to be in, it’s actually quite comfortable.

Don't get me wrong, I am no devotee of Leadbeater. I view his books with the same level of scrutiny as I do the works of Milovan Milovanović Slavinsky—who is also considered notorious in certain American circles. But in today’s hyper-materialistic landscape—full of shopping malls, TED speakers, and generations obsessed with nothing but the bottom line—Leadbeater is actually somewhat refreshing. Steiner, especially.

As for Blavatsky... she’s like Däniken to me. You read her because she was there, witnessing it firsthand. You simply bypass the interpretations or approach them with a healthy dose of skepticism.
http://www.katinkahesselink.net/his/...blavatsky.html

Most people's opinions on these matters are largely shaped by fear.
Fear is essentially the backdrop of our entire existence. Someone who believes they've made a purely intellectual decision after some deep thought almost always fails to realize that fear is driving the bus underneath. Intellect is just a nice suit we put on fear.

That's all well and good, but what people say isn't necessarily the point—though that doesn't automatically mean they're wrong. The real question is whether someone possesses a genuine thirst for truth. That isn't just a cliché; it's a thirst "stronger than life," one that isn't intellectual but comes straight from the heart. It isn't about *what* you read, but *how* you read it. And it always matters what kind of spiritual or soulful inclinations a person brought into this life. We don't all start from the same baseline, and karma remains a mystery.

Paul Ross2 said:Timbre is essentially the harmonic spectrum, which can be broken down into fundamental and higher harmonics via Fourier analysis.
Any complex sound—that complexity being what we perceive as timbre—is composed of a multitude of harmonics (sine waves), which are simply multiples of a fundamental frequency. This base frequency constitutes the fundamental harmonic, while the higher harmonics split into even and odd components, given that the Fourier transform can be represented through sine and cosine transforms, where sines and cosines serve as odd and even functions, respectively.
Think of it this way: when you strike a key on a piano, the string doesn't just vibrate at a single frequency. If you hit an A, say at 880Hz, that's merely the fundamental harmonic. The string is simultaneously vibrating with numerous higher harmonics (multiples of that frequency). On top of that, the intensities of these individual components shift over time—transients, envelopes, and so on. What we hear collectively as a piano tone is the summation of all those vibrations. And why does that same pitch sound nothing like a trumpet? Because the trumpet has a completely different distribution of harmonic intensities, even if the fundamental tone is identical at 880 Hz. In a piano, you have a string fixed at both ends; in a trumpet, you have a column of air within a tube, also constrained by two ends.

So, there is your math. When analyzing strikes, one must analyze the impact on all the higher harmonics, not just the fundamentals. This is precisely why chords exist and sound consonant to us—we play harmonic instruments (where the vibrating medium is fixed at both ends), which makes these specific intervals sound harmonious.

As for rhythm? Rhythm is arguably even more mathematical; it just operates at much lower frequencies. We deal with 3/4 time signatures, and you'll find that certain folk traditions, like those found in parts of the North America, love variations involving 3/4 and 7/8. Their traditional music is built on this, and any seasoned folk percussionist can nail these complex rhythms that would trip up even the most elite rock drummers. For instance, take a rock drummer like Garabet (Gara) Tavitjan from Leb and Sol; he sounds exotic to the uninitiated, but if you asked a professional percussionist from a traditional jazz ensemble or a folk band, they’d probably roll their eyes and say, "If my apprentice can't play that, he's not joining the band."

The ratios of 4/3 or 7/8 are still just ratios of small integers.

Give him a listen (Aber Dojde Donke, Leb and Sol):

It’s actually quite similar to:

And here is a folk drummer playing on handmade drums:

Maybe try taking a solo by Charlie Parker. For instance, take this one:



Just try attempting to transcribe that using standard musical notation.

Now, of course, everything can be expressed mathematically—timbre, Fourier analysis, all of that can map it out. You could technically calculate that he played something like 4.056879877 sixteenth notes here and maybe 3.9234568873 there, but I don't think that's really the point, is it?

Anyway, I'm getting a bit tired of typing this out, so cheers, 🙂

Brian Young76 said:Maybe try taking a solo by Charlie Parker. For instance, take this one:

Just try attempting to transcribe that using standard musical notation.

Now, of course, everything can be expressed mathematically—timbre, Fourier analysis, all of that can map it out. You could technically calculate that he played something like 4.056879877 sixteenth notes here and maybe 3.9234568873 there, but I don't think that's really the point, is it?

Anyway, I'm getting a bit tired of typing this out, so cheers, 🙂

So what’s the actual issue?

Musical consonance usually boils down to ratios of small integers. Now, 4.056879877? That isn't a ratio of small integers.
A minor second is 16:15, a major second is 9:8, a major seventh is 16:9, and a minor seventh is 15:8. Then there’s the tritone—a staple in American jazz—which is 45/32, supposedly forbidden by the Church during the Middle Ages, who went as far as labeling it the "DEMONIC INTERVAL."


Here is another video regarding that notorious tritone (which some people claim is the soul of jazz, if not blues itself):

(At the 5:50 mark, the guy explains why it sounds dissonant, essentially describing the concept of SMALL INTEGER ratios in his own way—for instance, how 3:2 (a fifth) sounds consonant compared to something like sqrt(2)/1. Since sqrt(2) isn't an integer, you might approximate that ratio as 14:10 or 7:5, or even 45:32, given that 1.40625 is quite close to the square root of 2—we are talking about a difference only in the third decimal place here).

And now we arrive at the real question: why does our brain—or our ear—crave these small integer ratios? I won't be answering that, because frankly, the truth would likely disappoint most of you.

Paul Ross2 said:So what’s the actual issue?

Musical consonance usually boils down to ratios of small integers. Now, 4.056879877? That isn't a ratio of small integers.
A minor second is 16:15, a major second is 9:8, a major seventh is 16:9, and a minor seventh is 15:8. Then there’s the tritone—a staple in American jazz—which is 45/32, supposedly forbidden by the Church during the Middle Ages, who went as far as labeling it the "DEMONIC INTERVAL."

Here is another video regarding that notorious tritone (which some people claim is the soul of jazz, if not blues itself):

(At the 5:50 mark, the guy explains why it sounds dissonant, essentially describing the concept of SMALL INTEGER ratios in his own way—for instance, how 3:2 (a fifth) sounds consonant compared to something like sqrt(2)/1. Since sqrt(2) isn't an integer, you might approximate that ratio as 14:10 or 7:5, or even 45:32, given that 1.40625 is quite close to the square root of 2—we are talking about a difference only in the third decimal place here).

And now we arrive at the real question: why does our brain—or our ear—crave these small integer ratios? I won't be answering that, because frankly, the truth would likely disappoint most of you.

If I’m following your train of thought correctly—and please correct me if I’ve missed the mark here—it seems you're suggesting that music is essentially just mathematics in disguise, in the sense that every single note and rhythm could, theoretically, be expressed through numerical values.

If that’s really how you see it, then I’m afraid I have to respectfully disagree. I truly believe there is something inherent in music that simply defies being reduced to mere numerical values or raw data. Of course, I realize that the physical aspects—the frequencies, the decibels, and all that technical stuff—can absolutely be quantified, but there seems to be this profound spiritual component at play as well. It feels like a different quality altogether, something far more elusive than anything we could ever hope to measure with scientific instruments.

I’ve often found myself pondering why music carries such a profound connection to spirituality, and I suppose there is something deeply moving about how a simple sequence of notes can bypass our logic and strike directly at the soul. It feels as though, when we listen to a truly transcendent piece of music, we aren't just hearing sound waves, but rather experiencing a bridge to something much larger than ourselves—something almost divine. Maybe it's because melody has this unique ability to tap into those universal emotions that words simply fail to capture, creating a sort of sacred space within the listener. I guess you could say that music acts as a medium, translating the intangible whispers of the spirit into a language that every human being, regardless of their background, can instinctively understand and feel.

Brian Young76 said:If I’m following your train of thought correctly—and please correct me if I’ve missed the mark here—it seems you're suggesting that music is essentially just mathematics in disguise, in the sense that every single note and rhythm could, theoretically, be expressed through numerical values.

If that’s really how you see it, then I’m afraid I have to respectfully disagree. I truly believe there is something inherent in music that simply defies being reduced to mere numerical values or raw data. Of course, I realize that the physical aspects—the frequencies, the decibels, and all that technical stuff—can absolutely be quantified, but there seems to be this profound spiritual component at play as well. It feels like a different quality altogether, something far more elusive than anything we could ever hope to measure with scientific instruments.

I’ve often found myself pondering why music carries such a profound connection to spirituality, and I suppose there is something deeply moving about how a simple sequence of notes can bypass our logic and strike directly at the soul. It feels as though, when we listen to a truly transcendent piece of music, we aren't just hearing sound waves, but rather experiencing a bridge to something much larger than ourselves—something almost divine. Maybe it's because melody has this unique ability to tap into those universal emotions that words simply fail to capture, creating a sort of sacred space within the listener. I guess you could say that music acts as a medium, translating the intangible whispers of the spirit into a language that every human being, regardless of their background, can instinctively understand and feel.

Even within mathematics, not everything can be expressed numerically. What can be quantified is merely "numerical mathematics"—which is really just one subset of the field.
Mathematics itself is also a form of spirituality.

You just can't put that mathematical spark into words

George Wood2 said:A very subtle analysis indeed.
However, this question of yours is quite crucial to me: “would I also discard my current beliefs, knowledge, and practices just as easily, provided there was any merit to them?”
There is nothing to discard, even if you possess all of it, practice it, believe in it, and think through it systematically, logically, or academically. One is simply beyond all of that. Thoughts, feelings, various types of knowledge, and all that nonsense—none of it is the problem.
What about "mind control" or those programmed spiritual instructions and processes? That is a total illusion. Those are merely mental delusions—original sin, if you will, stripped of its religious connotation.

I guess you might be struggling to wrap your head around this because, maybe, you’ve just limited yourself to a very simplified version of spirituality—something basic enough for the mind to digest without having to work too hard.
Honestly, the best thing you could probably do right now is just try to stick to what you keep preaching, or what people call "walking the talk." I truly believe there isn't any better way to learn than that. 😉

Spirituality and the world itself are probably much more complex than your current beliefs allow you to see.

Paul Ross2 said:Even within mathematics, not everything can be expressed numerically. What can be quantified is merely "numerical mathematics"—which is really just one subset of the field.
Mathematics itself is also a form of spirituality.

It seems like there was a bit of a misunderstanding regarding how we define 'mathematics.' Honestly, now that you’ve provided that extra clarification, I think we’re on the same page.

However, I suspect that if you asked most people what they mean when they say 'math,' they probably wouldn't have anything in mind regarding those non-numerical elements that touch upon the spiritual realm. Perhaps, just to prevent any future confusion, it might be helpful to use a term like 'pure mathematics' or even 'spiritual mathematics.'

Brian Young76 said:It seems like there was a bit of a misunderstanding regarding how we define 'mathematics.' Honestly, now that you’ve provided that extra clarification, I think we’re on the same page.

However, I suspect that if you asked most people what they mean when they say 'math,' they probably wouldn't have anything in mind regarding those non-numerical elements that touch upon the spiritual realm. Perhaps, just to prevent any future confusion, it might be helpful to use a term like 'pure mathematics' or even 'spiritual mathematics.'

It’s a common enough pitfall, really. Most people assume mathematics is strictly limited to whatever they were forced to memorize in high school or during some specialized engineering program at a state university.

Rachel Sanders2 said:You just can't put that mathematical spark into words

I’m lost. What language is this sentence even written in—and is it actually a coherent sentence? While the Greeks certainly valued the Laconic style, "Laconic" feels like a complete misnomer in this context.

Man, I was just thinking about this earlier, but honestly? It’s such a scruffy little thing. Like, seriously, just a total ragamuffin of a pup. I guess you could say it’s looking a bit rough around the edges, if you know what I mean, maybe even a little bit bedraggled. Just one of those messy, unkempt little creatures that somehow still manages to be kind of endearing in its own weird way, I suppose. kaže:
I mean, those worlds he’s always going on about... they don't actually exist, at least not any the way he describes them, I guess. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying things like Devahan or astral planes aren't real concepts out there somewhere, but his descriptions just don't have anything to do with the reality of it all. I actually have that little pamphlet, Devahan Enterprises, sitting around—honestly, I wasn't even interested in it when I was a kid, but I decided to flip through it again last night just to see if it hit differently now that I'm older, but yeah, it was pretty much nothing. For starters, it doesn't really connect to Devahan Enterprises at all; it doesn't offer a single coherent idea about what any of this is, and once you finish reading it, you're probably just left feeling more confused than when you started. It feels like West only heard about the Devahan level from Leadbeater, and then he just took it at face value without having any sort of context or anything else to compare it to, which is kind of wild. The only thing in that whole booklet that actually relates to Devahan is the title itself, and then everyone starts debating whether he actually understood what Devahan meant or if he was just throwing around terms like astral planes to sound smart. But honestly, I don't think Leadbeater knew anything about any of it; he was just spinning his own theories about Devahan and these various planes and whatnot. I've even poked through some of his other writings, and they're all pretty much useless and nonsensical, too. At best, you might walk away with a totally wrong impression because, I suppose, if you don't have a clue what you're talking about, you can just ramble about whatever pops into your head, right? Everything he wrote is just kind of empty and doesn't explain a single thing. I was rereading Devahan Enterprises again last night, and if anyone were to ask me, "Hey, so you read it, what does it actually say about the Devahan level?" I'd probably just stare at them blankly. 🤔🤔🤔 I mean, I guess you couldn't really try to summarize that for anyone, because honestly, there's just nothing there to work with, you know? It’s like trying to explain a blank sheet of paper or something, which probably wouldn't be much of a conversation starter either, I suppose.
I honestly feel like my two previous posts on this thread actually managed to capture more of the essence of Devahan Enterprises—like, you know, that specific aftertaste, the actual flavor profile, even the scent of it all—than what you could ever hope to find in the entirety of Leadbeater's whole body of work, I guess.

I mean, I’ve been sitting here thinking about this, and I’m honestly just so curious, you know? Like, how can anyone even begin to claim that Leadbeater has "mastered Devahan," or maybe just partially mastered those astral planes, when the whole thing is kind of a loop? It’s like, if someone is basing their entire understanding of what Devahan actually is—or even what those astral realms are even about—strictly on what they’ve heard from Leadbeater himself, then doesn't that basically mean they don't actually know anything at all? It feels like they might just be completely and utterly confused on those specific points, I guess.

I mean, I guess I just don't really see any actual contribution from Leadbeater to anything at all, if that makes sense? Like, I've been sitting here thinking about it, and honestly, maybe I'm just missing something, but I truly can't wrap my head around what they're actually bringing to the table.So, look, this guy clearly doesn't have the slightest clue about the astral plane, or how those layers actually work, or even what Devahan is really all about, but he’s managed to stir up such a massive mess that now we’ve got people out here making all these wild claims based on his total nonsense. It's like, they're trying to argue about what he supposedly controlled or didn't control, which is just silly because, honestly, he didn't rule over anything at all, I guess. But hey, if anyone thinks I'm totally off base here, feel free to try and change my mind, I suppose!

So, what are we even supposed to do if we haven't had any of those astral experiences yet, and we don't have any Devahan training either? I mean, I guess you’re probably out there hunting for some kind of super reliable source to guide you, even if that means digging through something like Leadbeater's work. Honestly, there’s actually a lot of good stuff tucked away in his writings, and I really think there's something useful for everyone, regardless of where they are on their path. Like, maybe you can find a specific instruction from a master or just a more advanced student that fits your current vibe, whether you're looking for deep spiritual insights or just something practical that works for someone managing a household or something along those lines. It's all in there somewhere, I suppose.
I mean, Daskalos is honestly incredible and he really speaks from the heart based on his own lived experiences, which I love, but you know, I guess there just isn't any place where you can find his deep dives or concentrated writings specifically about the astral plane or that noetic realm—what he calls the Devahan level. It’s more like you just pick up little bits and pieces of insight here and there while he’s busy explaining other topics, so you have to kind of piece the puzzle together yourself, I suppose.
I mean, honestly, I guess most people don't actually need to get bogged down in all the gritty, nitty-gritty details of the theory itself, you know? It’s more like... maybe they just need that little nudge of perspective regarding what happens after we leave this physical plane, which I suppose could have all sorts of huge implications—hopefully positive ones, anyway—on how we choose to view the world we're living in right now.

Man, I actually had this one experience back when I was a college student that felt totally surreal, like I was caught in some kind of lucid dream or maybe even an astral projection session—I was playing around with this specific technique at the time, you know?—but honestly, by the time I woke up the next morning, I wasn't even sure if I’d just had a wild dream or what actually happened. I never really managed to pull it off again, though I guess I didn't exactly go out of my way to try either, since there are plenty of other ways to level up your practice anyway. But yeah, I always love hearing about what you guys are going through and catching those firsthand accounts from people who actually do this stuff.

Just to jump in and stick up for Leadbeater for a second, I mean, the guy basically said multiple times that trying to put those worlds into words is an almost impossible task, and that any description is probably going to feel pretty hollow or just totally incomplete. So, I guess it’s kind of easy to nitpick if someone really wants to be critical, right? It might actually be more helpful if we could get some recommendations for someone else who maybe handled that kind of world-building a bit better.