Seduce Your Soul: Spirituality

Every religion promises a road to the divine. Very few admit who drew the map.

For most of recorded history, the people writing scripture, running temples, and defining holiness were men. They mapped the spiritual journey from their own starting point, with their own temptations in mind, and then handed that map to everyone. I believe that's why so many women walk the "correct" path faithfully and arrive at the end smaller than when they began.

Here is what I've come to believe: there is no single road to the divine. Women need the left-hand path. Men need the right-hand path. Nonbinary people need the middle path, or no path at all. Each road is medicine, and medicine only heals when it treats the illness you actually have.

What the left-hand and right-hand paths actually are

The terms come from Indian tantra. In Sanskrit, dakṣiṇācāra is the right-hand way and vāmācāra is the left-hand way. The right-hand stream kept to orthodox rules and social convention. The left-hand stream deliberately broke taboos, using things polite society forbade, including wine, meat, and ritual sexuality, as doorways to liberation. Left-hand tantra is also centered on Shakti, the divine feminine as raw creative power, and it treats women as essential to the ritual. Sanskrit even carries a quiet pun: vāma means "left," and the closely related vāmā means "woman."

The terms came West through Helena Blavatsky, founder of the Theosophical Society. In Isis Unveiled (1877), she introduced "left-hand path" and "right-hand path" to European occultism, declared herself a follower of the right, and painted the left as black magic and a danger to society. Historian Dave Evans points out that this neat binary didn't exist in Western esotericism before her. It also landed in cultures that already associated "left" with sin and bad luck. Even the Gospel of Matthew puts the sheep on the right hand and the goats on the left.

Over time the definitions settled into something like this:

The right-hand path looks outward and upward. It serves a God or gods beyond the self, follows a moral code, values humility, obedience, and surrender, and seeks union with the divine by dissolving the ego into it.
The left-hand path looks inward. It treats the self as sacred, questions inherited rules, embraces desire and the body, and seeks to become divine through self-realization instead of self-surrender.

The occultist Dion Fortune summed up the old prejudice in 1929: she called the right-hand initiate God-centered and the left-hand initiate self-centered, and warned that the left-hand teacher uses people instead of serving them.

Hold onto that warning. It's half true, and which half depends entirely on who is walking.

Religion was built for men

In 1960, a young theologian named Valerie Saiving published an essay in The Journal of Religion called "The Human Situation: A Feminine View." It quietly detonated.

Christian theology, she pointed out, teaches that the root of all sin is pride: the will to power, the self swollen too large. The cure is self-giving love, humility, and surrender. Saiving argued this whole framework was built from male experience. Men are raised to prove themselves, compete, and dominate, so pride really is their characteristic temptation, and a theology of self-surrender really does help them.

Women, she argued, face the opposite danger. Their typical failing is the underdevelopment or negation of the self: dependence on others for identity, diffuseness, no center of their own. Preaching selflessness to women, then, doesn't cure their sin. It deepens it. The very virtue theology praises most is the one most likely to destroy them.

The philosopher Mary Daly put the stakes bluntly in Beyond God the Father (1973): "If God is male, then the male is God." And Carol P. Christ, in her 1978 essay "Why Women Need the Goddess," argued that women who only ever worship a male deity absorb, at the deepest level, the message that their own power is illegitimate.

This is the right-hand path in a nutshell: a beautiful spiritual technology designed to humble the overgrown masculine ego. Women were handed it without anyone asking whether they had an overgrown ego to humble.

Why women need the left-hand path

A woman raised in this world has usually been practicing the right-hand path since childhood, whether she called it spirituality or not. Be quiet. Be good. Put others first. Don't be selfish. Don't want too much. Defer. Serve. Disappear gracefully into your role as daughter, wife, mother, helper.

When she then walks into church, temple, or a wellness retreat and is told that enlightenment means letting go of the ego, surrendering her will, and giving herself away, she isn't being asked to transcend anything. She is being asked to finish erasing herself. She does it beautifully, because she's been rehearsing her whole life, and everyone calls it holiness.

The left-hand path is the correction. It says:

Your self is sacred. You don't dissolve into the divine; you discover it in you.
Your desire is holy. The body you were taught to hide or apologize for is a doorway.
The taboos were built to contain you. Questioning them is devotion.
Your power is yours. You don't need a priest, a husband, or a male god to authorize it.
Your anger is information. (I've written about this before, in my post on curses and the myth of "harm none.")

It's no accident that the original left-hand tantra centered the goddess. The left-hand path was always the road where feminine power was the point.

For a woman, walking the left-hand path isn't selfishness. It's finally becoming a self at all.

Why men need the right-hand path

Now flip it.

A man raised in this world has usually been practicing a crude version of the left-hand path since boyhood. Saiving noticed it in 1960: girls are told they'll become women just by growing up, while boys learn that manhood has to be proven, and proven again. Compete. Win. Take what you want. Never submit. Be your own authority. The culture already pours gasoline on the masculine ego.

Hand that man a spirituality of self-deification, taboo-breaking, and "bow to no one," and you aren't liberating him. You're removing the last brake. This is how you get the guru who sleeps with his students, the CEO who treats people as resources, the man who decides that his desire is divine law and everyone else is an obstacle. Fortune's warning about the left-hand initiate who uses people describes him exactly. The greed eats outward, harming everyone around him, and then it eats inward. A self with no master and no limit becomes a lonely, starving thing.

The right-hand path is the medicine he actually needs. Humility. Service. A power higher than his own will. A moral code he didn't write. The discipline of surrender. The very practices that hollow out women are the ones that make men whole, because they shrink what culture inflated.

The middle path and the non-path

And for those who were never fully placed on either side of the gender line? I believe nonbinary people are called to the middle path, or to no path at all.

The middle path has deep roots. The Buddha's first teaching was the Middle Way between harsh self-denial and indulgence. In Hindu iconography, Ardhanarishvara is Shiva and Parvati fused into one body, half male and half female, the divine shown as both at once. The ancient galli, gender-crossing priests of the goddess Cybele, served at the center of Roman religious life. In South Asia, hijra communities have long held a recognized ritual role, offering blessings at births and weddings. Many traditions have understood people beyond the binary as standing at a threshold, holding both and belonging fully to neither. The middle path takes from the left and the right as needed: self-reverence and surrender, desire and discipline, held in balance.

The non-path is even older and stranger. Zen calls its central text The Gateless Gate. The Tao Te Ching opens by warning that any way that can be named isn't the true way. And in 1929, Jiddu Krishnamurti dissolved the spiritual order built around him by declaring that "truth is a pathless land." For someone the world never managed to sort, a road drawn by others may simply not apply. The divine is reached by refusing the map entirely and walking straight in.

The principle underneath: walk toward what you were denied

If there's one idea holding this all together, it's this: each path is medicine for what the culture already gave you too much of.

Women were given too much surrender, so they need sovereignty. Men were given too much sovereignty, so they need surrender. Nonbinary people were given a world of two boxes, so they need balance, or freedom from boxes altogether.

The disaster happens when the medicine gets swapped. A woman on the right-hand path weakens and erases herself, and calls her disappearance devotion. A man on the left-hand path turns greedy, grandiose, and cruel, and calls his appetite enlightenment. Both are walking a real road to the divine. Both are walking the wrong one.

The strongest objections, and my answer

This view will strike some people as wrong, and their objections deserve a fair hearing:

It's gender essentialism. Critics would say tying spiritual paths to gender locks people into boxes the left-hand path is supposed to break. Plenty of women are raised confident and assertive; plenty of men are raised to obey and are crushed by it.
The traditions themselves don't sort by gender. In tantra, men and women both walked both streams. Modern occultists like Peter J. Carroll argue that a practitioner can walk both paths, since they ultimately aim at the same place.
It risks excusing harm. Any woman can become cruel if she decides her desire is divine law, and the left-hand path offers no automatic protection against that.
Trans and gender-fluid people complicate the map. Which path applies when socialization and identity don't line up?

My answer: I'm describing a pattern, and patterns have exceptions. The real question is always what did the world over-give you, and what did it withhold? For most women alive today, the answer is too much surrender and not enough self. For most men, the reverse. If you're the exception, follow the same principle and it will lead you somewhere else. That's the point. The path is chosen by your wound, and only you know where yours is.

Choose your road with your eyes open

The men who drew the old map weren't necessarily villains. They were describing their own climb and assuming it was everyone's. But a map drawn from one starting point will march everyone else off a cliff.

So look at where you're actually standing. If you were raised to disappear, take the left hand and claim yourself. If you were raised to conquer, take the right hand and learn to kneel. If you were never given a place to stand at all, walk the middle, or walk no road, and let the divine meet you where no one thought to look.

What is Skull and Bones?

Skull and Bones was founded at Yale in 1832. Every spring, fifteen juniors are "tapped" to join for their senior year, and they spend it meeting twice a week inside a windowless sandstone hall members call the Tomb.

What happens in there is officially nobody's business. The rumors fill the gap: initiates lying in coffins, recounting their life stories, receiving new names, swearing oaths over the number 322. There's the legend that Geronimo's skull sits somewhere inside. Its alumni list reads like a history textbook, including William Howard Taft, both Presidents Bush, and John Kerry.

Is it a shadow government? Probably not. It's more likely a very old, very well-funded club with a flair for theater. And that's exactly the part that gets under our skin.

We Were Made for Ritual

Ever since we stood up on two feet and looked at the sky, humans have been making ceremony out of the world around us.

We buried our dead with care long before we could write. Neanderthals laid bodies in the earth, and our own ancestors sent their loved ones off with red ochre, shells, and beads. About 17,000 years ago, someone crawled deep into the caves at Lascaux by firelight and painted horses, bulls, and deer across the stone. Nobody does that for decoration. That's worship.

At Göbekli Tepe in Turkey, hunter-gatherers raised massive carved pillars around 11,600 years ago, covered in foxes, vultures, snakes, and scorpions. They built a temple before they built farms. Think about that. We gathered to honor something bigger than ourselves before we figured out how to grow bread.

The moon, the harvest, the solstice, the first rain, the animal that gave its life so we could eat. We marked all of it. We danced for it, sang to it, lit fires for it. And we did it with the wide-open, childlike wonder of creatures who knew the world was alive and that we were part of it.

Somewhere Along the Way, We Lost the Magic

Now look at us. We mark the solstice with a push notification. Our biggest shared ritual is scrolling. We eat food that arrives in plastic from a place we never see, and we thank an app.

The old ceremonies got sanded down into something tidy and efficient. Birthdays became a cake and a text. Death became a form to fill out. Even the seasons blur together under fluorescent lights and climate control.

We traded the bonfire for the screen glow, and we're starving for something we can't quite name. That hunger doesn't go away. It just goes looking for somewhere to land.

Jealousy Wearing a Tinfoil Hat

So it lands on Skull and Bones.

Here is a group of people who still get to do the thing we were built for. They have a sacred space. They have secret names and oaths and bones on the walls. They're chosen. They get to walk through a heavy door into a room where the ordinary rules don't apply.

We tell ourselves we're fascinated because they might be running the world. But I think the real sting is simpler. They have a ritual, and we don't. They have a tribe that meets in the dark, and we have group chats.

Conspiracy theories are sometimes just longing with a darker costume on. It's easier to say "that's evil" than to admit "I want that." I want to be initiated into something. I want to be part of a mystery. I want a door that opens for me.

You Don't Need a Tomb

Here's the good news: nobody has to tap you. The magic was never locked inside a building in Connecticut. It's been waiting for you outside this whole time.

Walk down to the ocean at sunrise and just watch. Light a candle on the new moon and write down what you want to let go of. Gather your friends on the solstice and eat something you grew or cooked yourself. Bury your hands in the dirt. Thank the water. Say a few words over the dead, even the small ones.

Make it strange. Make it yours. Do it with the same wide-eyed wonder our ancestors carried into those painted caves.

The secret society we're all jealous of is the oldest one on Earth. It's called being human, and your membership never expired.

Seduce Your Soul

Left Hand, Right Hand, Middle, and No Path: Which Road to the Divine Is Yours?