Given that it was itself highly influenced by the pop culture of the day, it's no real surprise that the Theosophical movement of the 19th Century set the template for literally all of the science fiction and fantasy that would emerge in its wake.
Even creators who'd hardly heard of Madame Blavatsky - or who fancied themselves stolid Christians or hard-bitten materialists - couldn't help but swim in Theosophy's waters. It's no exaggeration to say that they really had no choice.
This kind of broad-spectrum influence is nearly unheard of in history, especially for a movement that was essentially pasted together from mystical odds-and-ends and began to fall apart just a half-century after it first appeared. But as the Mother Church (so to speak) began to splinter, it would shoot out the seeds of the early New Age movement, which ultimately became even more influential.
Give yourself the precious gift of Secret Sunshine
and burn away the dreary post-holiday blahs!
The matriarch of this new American Hermeticism was Alice Ann Evans, a British transplant who worked at (and briefly ran) the big Theosophical operation in Hollywood (where else?), before marrying Foster Bailey, who was editor-in-chief of the Theosophical Society's national magazine, The Messenger.
In the early Twenties, the Baileys would split off from the Theosophical Society as it tried (in vain) to mainstream itself. Through their Arcane School and Lucifer Publishing Co. (both based in upscale Manhattan neighborhoods), the couple promised to bring the movement "Back to Blavatsky," meaning back to all the weird 'n' crazy Atlantis/Lemuria stuff that fantasy and pulp writers found so fertile.
"Weird 'n' crazy" would certainly describe the early New Age movement (the Baileys actually popularized that term), especially as it began to reincorporate all the flying saucer and ancient astronaut stuff that Theosophy seeded into the culture in the first place.
Bailey denied credit, instead claiming an immortal Tibetan named the Master Djwal Khul recited the writers to her telepathically. Interesting then that Djwal is not unlike Dajjal, the Islamic word for "Deceiver."
But then something weird happened; Bailey's brand of Neo-Blavatskian Theosophy began to insinuate itself into influential corners of the power structure. Russian mystic Nicholas Roerich - who counted Vice President Henry Wallace as a devotee - was an early ally, and Eleanor Roosevelt and United Nations bigwig Robert Muller were also down with the program.
Someone was clearly backing her play, as Alice Bailey's insane (and borderline-incomprehensible) books are kept in print to this day, and her legacy (rebranded as "The Lucis Trust") continues to occupy prime real estate in Manhattan and London.
One can’t help but wonder if this is because Bailey’s cosmology quite explicitly venerates the Angels Who Kept Not Their First Estate, AKA the Fallen Ones, AKA The Watchers.
You remember the Watchers, right? They’re the ones whose wives became sirens.
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