The eagle with plumage of pure gold that carried Ganymede away in order to bring him to Olympus (so he could serve as a cupbearer to the Gods) always has the custom of hunting in the Purgatorial region.
This majestic bird of the Spirit, while making marvelous turns, terrific descents like lightning, takes the soul away to the sphere of the fire in order to burn with her. Thus, they are both converted into a living flame.
Let us remember the powerful Achilles who turned with fear because he did not know where he was. This is because his Mother took him away from Charon and transported him asleep to the island of Scyros, where later the Greeks found him and took him away.
Those times in which I abandoned the Averno in order to enter into the Purgatorial region come to my memory.
My Mother, converted into a Mater Dolorosa, had already instructed me in depth. She had navigated with me on the boat of Charon; She had demonstrated to me the dissolution of the pluralized “I,” and finally she had taught me that when the mind is deprived of the ego, the mind still continues with evil tendencies.
Oh God of mine!... When the pluralized “I” is dissolved, it leaves in the mind its seeds of perdition.
The yogis say that one must burn the seeds, incinerate them, reduce them to cosmic dust.
It is urgent to know that the “I” is re-born again like an evil weed from its own seeds.
I needed then to incinerate those evil seeds of a poisonous weed. It was necessary for me to enter into the Purgatorial region of the inferior Molecular World in order to burn the seed-plot of the “myself.”
Close to the top, I reached a point where I saw a gate (it first appeared to be merely a gap, a break within the wall) which had three steps leading up to it, each one a different color. Over that terrible gate I saw engraved with indelible characters the word Purgatory.
I then saw the silent figure of someone on guard. I saw that Genie standing on the highest step; he was an Angel of extraordinary beauty, imposing, severe, and terribly divine. In his right hand he held a naked sword, which was dazzlingly reflecting its rays.
Everyone who intends to penetrate into the Purgatorial region must devoutly prostrate himself at the feet of this Angel, and in mercy’s name he must make supplications to him to open it. Prior to this, one has to smite his breast three times.
Unforgettable and terrible moments are those in which the Angel inscribes on the forehead of the initiate the letter “P” seven times. Then, one hears from his lips the following phrase: “Once entered here, be sure you cleanse away these wounds.”
Do you remember the case of the wife of Lot? She was converted into a pillar of salt because from behind her husband she looked back.
As well, the Angel of Purgatory warns that whosoever turns to look back after having entered into the inferior Molecular World loses his work, and goes back out again from where he came.
This signifies absolute repentance, not to commit the same error of the past again, not to commit delinquency.
Whosoever turns to look back, fails, repeats the same errors, returns into the same sinning past, does not purify himself.
Everyone who turns to look back converts himself into a purgatorial failure. Once in Purgatory, one has to march ahead with firmness.
One comprehends how absurd arrogance and pride are when within the inferior Molecular Region. We are nothing but simple chrysalises, miserable slugs from the mud of the earth, inside which the heavenly butterfly could be formed, based on tremendous, intimate super-efforts. But, there is no law for this to be fulfilled. Those chrysalises could be lost, and this is what is most common.
How stubborn are those individuals who suffer the unutterable when they see happiness in any given person. Why would they place their hearts in that which requires an exclusive possession?
“Beati pacifici,” the ones who lack sinning anger. Unfortunately, rage, anger, can disguise itself within the toga of a judge or with a smile of forgiveness. Thus, each defect is multifarious.
We frightfully suffer within the fire of lust while in the Purgatorial region because we revive within those submerged subconsciousness regions all of the pleasures of carnal passion. However, this causes profound pain within us.
“Adhaesit pavimento anima mea.” Poor souls who were attached to terrene things, how they suffer within the Purgatorial region.
People of the Purgatorial region! I tell you, remember Pygmalion, whose gluttonous thirst of gold made him a traitor, robber, and even what is worse, a parricide.
What would we say of the misery of the avaricious Midas, who was converted into a ridiculous personage throughout the innumerable centuries because of his absurd petitions?
What would we say of laziness? It is a Siren who distracts mariners on the wide sea of existence. She was the one who lay Ulysses aside from his course. A loathsome smell exudes from her belly.
Gluttons from Purgatory! Behold Boniface, who waved the crosier of numerous flocks. Behold also Messer Marchese who had only a short time of thirst before inebriating himself at Forli, yet was never sated.
We heard, “those noblest creatures of the clouds,
How they their twofold bosoms overgorg’d
Oppos’d in fight to Theseus: call to mind
The Hebrews, how effeminate they stoop’d
To ease their thirst; whence Gideon’s ranks were thinn’d,
As he to Midian march’d adown the hills.”
- Canto 24, The Divine Comedy: Purgatory by Dante Alighieri
So, I saw frightful things within Purgatory. When reliving all of my bestialities of ancient times in this region, truly, I felt myself converted into a swine.
One given day among others, while conversing with a fellow soul of Purgatory, I told her, “Sister of mine, in this place we have become as swine.”
She answered me, “Thus it is; in this place we have become as swine.”
The time was passing by, and I was suffering the unutterable while incinerating malignant seeds, while eliminating filthy things.
Many fellow souls of this Purgatorial region looked like decomposing cadavers. Lying down on their beds, they painfully eliminated seeds, horrifying filthy larvae, and evil tendencies.
Those poor souls sighed and also moaned. I never forgot my Divine Mother; I always beseeched her to help me in this Purgatorial work, to eliminate from me this or that psychological defect. The fight against myself was terrible.
Finally, one night, the Blessed Goddess Mother Kundalini—disguised as a man—entered within the Purgatorial region. I intuitively recognized her. “Why did you disguise yourself as a man?” I asked her.
“In order to enter into these regions,” was her answer.
“When are you going to take me out of here?” She, the Adorable One, then established a date and hour.
“Afterwards, the visual instruction will come,” She continued. Clearly, I understood everything.
Various details confirmed the words of my Mother, since the seven “P’s” had already been erased little by little, one by one. The purifications were evident, manifest, clear, and positive.
This chapter is from The Gnostic Magic of the Runes (1969) by Samael Aun Weor. The print and ebook editions by Glorian Publishing (a non-profit organization) are illustrated to aid your understanding, and include features like a glossary and index. Buy the book, and you benefit yourself and others.