Throughout this long journey of research, investigation, and reflection, I tried to trace a number of indications that led me to reconsider subjects such as possession, affliction, magic, the devil, stability, and sacredness. This subject required a great deal of time and effort because I did not want to approach it merely as a collection of inherited stories or myths. Instead, I tried to search for the underlying structure that connects these concepts to one another.
Therefore, what I am going to say here should not be understood as a sermon, but rather as an attempt to construct a conception and an understanding. One may agree or disagree with it, and may accept some of its premises while rejecting others, but what matters is understanding the relationship between the ideas before judging them.
The idea I repeatedly return to is that stability cannot exist without a center.
In this conception, this is not merely a moral or religious statement, but a general principle that can be observed in many things. The center is what establishes directions, sets the balance, and gives a thing its point of reference to which it can return. When the center disappears, disorder begins; when disorder spreads, stability and equilibrium disappear, and justice becomes disturbed.
From this, we can formulate a fundamental principle:
Every unstable state is, at its core, the result of a lack of focus or a disturbance of the center.
We will need this statement in order to understand the rest of the matter.
The Creator as the Center
When I say that a human being cannot achieve psychological, intellectual, physical, and existential stability except through a sound relationship with the Creator, I am not presenting this merely as moral preaching, but as a conclusion arising from the logic we are discussing.
The Creator, in this conception, is the highest center around which things are ordered. The statement can be understood in two complementary ways: the Creator is the center, and the center is the source of creation.
The difference between the two statements is subtle, but important.
If the center is the source of creation, then breaking the connection with the center means breaking the connection with the source of creation. The idea can be illustrated with a simple example: imagine a television set that depends on a continuous source of an image. If the source becomes unstable or the connection to it is interrupted, the image begins to flicker and distort, parts of it may disappear, or it may stop completely.
The problem here is not necessarily with the device itself, but with the relationship between the device and the source of the image.
Likewise, we can understand an unstable being as a being whose relationship with the source of its existence has become disturbed.
The more disturbed the relationship with the center becomes, the weaker the focus becomes, and the more fluctuation, alternation, gaps, and interruptions appear. The wider the gap between the parts of a thing becomes, the less integrated and less stable it becomes.
Thus, defect, in this conception, is the existence of a gap in the structure or a break in the connection.
The House as a Center of Stability
From here we arrive at another concept that initially seems distant from the subject of possession, but is actually directly connected to it: the house.
A person who possesses a house possesses a place to which they can return. A house is not merely walls and a roof; it is a center of stability, a place where a person finds themselves, their family, security, and tranquility.
For this reason, a person who has no home is, by necessity, unstable.
The house, in the conception I am proposing, is not completed merely by the existence of a place, but by the existence of its inhabitants.
A house into which everything enters, with no boundaries between its inhabitants and those who do not belong to it, loses its meaning. A true house, however, has inhabitants, boundaries, a system, and a center to which it returns.
From here we can move from the physical house to a broader concept: the House of the Creator.
The house established by the Creator as a place of stability, security, and tranquility can be viewed as a center to which the human being returns. Whoever enters this center becomes stable, while whoever leaves it, rejects it, or loses their connection with it begins to lose some degree of their stability.
Therefore, the house is not merely a place, but rather a relationship between the being and its center.
From Disconnection to the Devil
If we take this principle to its conclusion, we can reconsider the concept of the devil from another perspective.
The devil, in this conception, is the being whose connection to the center has weakened because of its rejection of the center's authority or its separation from it.
Instead of the influence of the center upon it being continuous, its influence becomes intermittent and fragmented.
Here we recover a concept we discussed earlier: the shift.
A shift is a state that temporarily replaces the original state. In the military, hospitals, or any institution, there is a shift: one group replaces the original group for a certain period, after which things return to their original order.
But the problem begins when the shift rebels against the original, loses its connection with it, or behaves as though it were the original itself.
From here, the devil can be understood as a shift that has become separated from the original.
This is why the concept of the devil, in this conception, is associated with ideas such as alternation, fragmentation, hallucination, and disorder.
Hallucination, for example, is a state that causes a person to interpret reality in an unstable way, receiving messages or reports that do not correspond to reality. During a panic or paranoid episode, a person may believe that someone is following them, that a catastrophe is about to occur, or that they are going to die, even though reality provides no evidence for this.
It is a state in which the connection with reality becomes disturbed, producing false information or an incorrect reading of reality.
In this sense, the devil becomes associated, in this conception, with a disturbed state that separates the human being from the center of control, making them less aware of what is happening, why it is happening, and where it is leading them.
Possession: The Intruder Entering the House
After these premises, we can return to the concept of possession.
If the human being is a house, and if the house has inhabitants, a center, and boundaries, then possession can be conceived as an intruder entering the house and occupying it in the absence of its inhabitants or when their presence is weakened.
The intruder does not enter because they are the owner of the house, but because they exploit a gap.
Therefore, their objective, in this conception, is to corrupt the house.
Why?
Because the owner of the house, even after a long absence, may return.
The intruder knows that the owner's return means the end of their presence, and therefore tries to leave behind corruption, disorder, vulnerabilities, and entrances that allow them to remain.
Whenever corruption is found, a path to remain is found.
Whenever disorder is found, there is room for presence.
Whenever a gap appears, it can be exploited.
Here the relationship between possession and disconnection becomes clear: possession requires not only the existence of an intruder, but also the existence of a gap that allows them to enter.
Why Do Unstable Forces Oppose the Sacred?
If the sacred is that which possesses the highest degree of connection with the center, indeed if it is the center itself, then unstable forces would, in this conception, be unable to benefit from it naturally.
This is why I believe there is a conflict between stability and disorder.
The sacred does not nourish a state of disorder because it is based on integration, connection, and continuity.
From here we can understand the meaning of sacredness that I propose here:
Sacredness is complete life without interruption.
Sacredness is not merely an appearance, a form, or a place bearing a particular name. Rather, it is a state of connection and continuity in which no gaps intervene.
Disorder, by contrast, is based on fragmentation, alternation, and separation.
Therefore, unstable forces, rather than creating genuine stability, attempt to imitate its appearance.
Here the idea of the false house appears.
The True House and the False House
The true house is the one that achieves stability because it is connected to the center.
The false house, on the other hand, surrounds itself with appearances of security and stability in order to attract people to it, while its interior is based on fear, disorder, and disconnection.
This is a very important point.
The devil, in this conception, cannot build genuine stability because it does not possess the architectural secret of stability.
It can imitate the form, but it cannot possess the original.
Therefore, it attempts to construct something resembling the sacred house, or surround itself with appearances resembling paradise, in order to exploit the human desire for stability, tranquility, and security.
Human beings naturally seek a place where they feel safe.
No truly stable person wants to live in fear and disorder.
Therefore, this human need can be exploited to construct a false house, a false system, or a false image of stability.
True stability, however, does not come from appearance, but from connection with the center.
The Sacred House and the Disorder Surrounding It
From here we can understand an idea that may initially seem contradictory: a stable place may be surrounded by disorder without itself being unstable.
If there is a place of profound stability, the disturbed forces surrounding it may attempt to undermine its image, conceal its reality, or convince people that it is unsafe.
Consequently, a person may see the disturbances surrounding a place and assume that the disorder originates from the place itself.
But the distinction here is between the center and what surrounds it.
There may be a storm around the center without the center itself being the storm.
From here I raised a question about the sacred house, meaning the holy house. Sacredness here is understood as a concept, not necessarily as a reference to the place commonly known by that name in popular discourse.
I am speaking about a protected, stable, secure house, connected to the center, which an intruder cannot occupy, colonize, or penetrate.
These are the qualities that should be investigated.
The place that cannot be occupied, cannot be colonized, does not allow an intruder to become one of its inhabitants, and maintains its connection with the center is the place that deserves to be included in this conception of the sacred house.
The Sacred Human Being and the Sacred House
From here comes another question:
If there is a sacred house, can there also be a sacred human being?
In this conception, yes.
The house and the human being can share the same qualities.
The human being who represents the true inhabitant of the sacred house should possess the qualities of the house: stability, focus, balance, connection with the center, and protection from disturbed forces.
Thus, the sacred human being becomes the true inhabitant of that house, while the house becomes a reflection of the human being, and the human being a reflection of the house.
There are not necessarily multiple sacrednesses; rather, there is one sacredness, the sacredness of creation and its connection with the Creator.
The sacredness found on earth and the sacredness found within the human being are not two separate realities, but two manifestations of one reality.
The Original Masculine Principle and Death
Here we arrive at another concept that is often misunderstood: death.
I have long said that true or original masculinity is connected to death, but this does not mean that the original masculine principle loves death in the sense of wishing for annihilation or hating life.
The matter is deeper than that.
The relationship between the original masculine principle and death, in this conception, is particular because death reveals truth and separates illusion from reality.
Without death, the human being might become tyrannical and arrogant, believing that they could continue forever.
Death is what places a limit upon tyranny and reminds the human being that there is a ceiling above them.
Therefore, from this perspective, death is not an absolute evil, but can be mercy.
A person attached to life and its trivialities may become increasingly attached to them the longer they remain, and may become increasingly afraid of losing them.
Awareness of death, however, frees the person from illusion.
For this reason, I believe that those who have a pathological fear of death may not have understood its existential function.
The original masculine principle, however, does not see death in the same way as a disturbed being does, because it recognizes that death is part of the system that preserves balance.
Hence comes the connection between the original masculine principle and the secret of stability, peace, and the true house.
Why Does the Devil Not Love Death?
If the devil, in this conception, represents an unstable state that has rebelled against the center, then its relationship with death would naturally be different.
Death represents the boundary from which it cannot escape.
Thus, the attempt to escape death becomes an attempt to escape the original itself.
Here a great paradox appears: the one who seeks immortality at any cost may become increasingly distant from genuine life.
Immortality built upon fear of death can become an illness.
Therefore, I do not believe that the secret of complete life lies in escaping death, but in understanding death as part of the complete system. Death is the original masculine principle.
The Earth: The Relationship Between Spirit and Place
Here we arrive at the earth.
Speaking about the earth may seem material, while speaking about the spirit may seem immaterial, but I believe that separating the two is incorrect.
The relationship with the earth is not merely geographical.
Human beings are connected to the place they consider their origin and home. Therefore, attempting to uproot them from their land means, at a deeper level, attempting to uproot them from the center of their stability.
From here we can understand the actions of colonial or unstable forces that attempt to remove indigenous populations from their land.
The objective is not always the land as mere physical space, but rather breaking the relationship between the human being and their center.
Therefore, for the original masculine principle, the land is not something cheap that can easily be abandoned.
Anything may be tampered with, but tampering with the land means tampering with the root of the relationship between the human being and their place.
Nevertheless, the matter is neither purely earthly nor purely spiritual; it is a relationship between the two.
The Body as a House
Just as the earth is a house, the body is also a house.
Here we return once again to the same idea.
A body that places no boundaries upon itself becomes vulnerable to exploitation.
The more it is consumed, the cheaper it becomes.
The cheaper it becomes, the lower the quality of life becomes.
Therefore, respecting the body is not merely about preventing others; it is also about the person themselves establishing boundaries around what they allow to enter.
This is the meaning of prohibition upon oneself in the conception I am proposing.
A person does not always need someone else to tell them what they should do. A person can recognize something that harms them and prohibit it for themselves.
This does not mean that every person becomes an absolute lawgiver unto themselves, but rather that there is a level of personal discipline through which a person protects their body and self from things they believe corrupt them.
Veiling, Prohibition, and Discipline
From here we can understand the issue of veiling in a different way.
The question is not merely: Did someone tell the woman to cover herself?
The deeper question is: Does a person regard their body as something available for public consumption, or as something to which they set boundaries?
Prohibition here can be an intentional act arising from a person's respect for their body.
In this sense, veiling is not inherently exclusive to women; history has also known men who covered parts of their bodies in ways carrying religious or symbolic meanings.
The principle is broader than clothing:
What a person considers private does not make it available for public consumption.
Likewise, a man needs to prohibit certain things from his own gaze.
Looking indiscriminately at everything, constantly observing other people's bodies, and consuming their images does not necessarily make a person freer; it may instead make them less focused and more consumptive.
Thus, prohibiting certain things for oneself becomes a means of protecting oneself from them.
It is not merely a prohibition imposed upon another, but rather the construction of boundaries between the human being and what they do not want to enter into themselves.
Consumption and the Cheapening of the Body
The more the body becomes a commodity, the more the human being themselves become subject to consumption.
This is what makes a culture that constantly sells the body a culture that diminishes the value of the body rather than elevating it.
When everything becomes available, things lose their privacy.
When everything becomes displayed, perception loses its precision.
From here we can understand the meaning of sacredness once again: sacredness does not mean that something is forbidden without reason, but that it has boundaries that protect its value from consumption.
Therefore, the most sacred thing may also be the thing that is most concealed.
The essence does not need to shout: “Look at me.”
The empty thing, however, may constantly need to say: “Look at me.”
Magic and Possession as Forces That Distort Choice
After all these premises, we can return to affliction, magic, and possession.
In the conception I have reached, there are states in which a person becomes so penetrated or disturbed that they begin to see what harms them as beneficial and what benefits them as harmful.
Harm is made attractive to them, while what benefits them is made repulsive.
This is the point I consider fundamental in the concept of demonic magic:
That a person's perception changes until their own interest becomes their enemy and their harm becomes something they love.
At that point, the intrusion is no longer merely an external event, but becomes an influence upon the very center of decision-making.
The person begins making choices that increase their disorder rather than returning them to stability.
Thus, affliction, possession, and magic, within this intellectual framework, are all connected by one idea: weakening the center and increasing disconnection.
Sharia as Boundaries
Here the importance of Sharia appears.
Sharia, in this conception, is not merely a list of commands and prohibitions imposed from outside, but rather an architecture that protects the human being from chaos.
A person who prohibits nothing for themselves and places no boundaries upon their behavior becomes open to everything.
Absolute openness is not necessarily freedom.
Sometimes it may be the loss of boundaries.
Therefore, I said that a human being needs Sharia, in the sense that they need a system through which they know what they allow into themselves and what they prevent themselves from accepting.
Even apart from any religious debate, a person can recognize this within their private life: If you know that something is destroying you, why not prohibit it for yourself?
Prayer: Reconnecting with the Center
From here prayer can be understood as a process of restoring stability.
Prayer is not something additional that a person performs and then simply returns to their life. Rather, it can be viewed as a temporary withdrawal from the external world and a reconnection with the origin.
Therefore, genuine humility, in this conception, requires need.
A person who does not feel that they need stability may not understand the meaning of humility.
But one who recognizes their own disorder and needs to return to their center experiences prayer as a necessity for restoring the connection.
Thus, prayer in its essence is neither merely bodily movement nor merely a state of the heart separated from the body.
It is heart and movement.
Physical prayer, in this conception, expresses sacred architecture.
The movements are not random, but form a closed system that preserves its shape and focus.
If prayer becomes something in which every person can do whatever they wish, the meaning of the closed system is lost.
Because the relationship with the Creator, in this conception, is a sacred relationship that should not be open to every human intervention.
Returning to the Original
From here I understand Sharia differently.
Sharia is not a new invention.
The messengers, in this conception, are not innovators who arrive each time with a new architecture for the relationship with the Creator. Rather, they are preservers of the original and transmitters of it.
Returning to the original is a virtue because one cannot build a better architecture than the original architecture if the original is the one that achieves stability.
Therefore, excessive change and innovation may sometimes be nothing more than a form of hallucination searching for something new because it has lost the original.
Returning to the original is a return to the center.
The Illusion of Progress and Escaping the Ceiling
Here I arrive at another issue: the illusion that the more advanced human beings become, the better they necessarily become.
We may find a modern human being living among thousands of means and technologies, yet unable to sleep, to find stability, to endure life, or to control themselves.
Meanwhile, ancient human beings lived, despite their limited means, in a completely different way.
This does not mean that the past was perfect or that everything old is better than everything new. Rather, it means that technological progress does not necessarily equal existential progress.
Your ability to fly may increase while your ability to walk decreases.
Your ability to communicate with the world may increase while your ability to communicate with yourself decreases.
Your ability to treat a particular disease may increase while other diseases appear in its place.
Therefore, it is not enough to say: “Medicine has progressed.”
The question is: Has the disease disappeared?
If it has not disappeared, then the solution we have provided may be temporary.
This does not deny the value of medicine or treatment, but draws attention to the difference between treating symptoms and solving the root of the problem.
False Immortality
From here I also understand the modern human obsession with immortality.
Human beings attempt to escape death, extend their lives, and build systems that give them the feeling that they have transcended natural boundaries.
But the ceiling still exists.
Human beings still die.
Therefore, treating life as though it were eternal may make a person more attached to things and more afraid of losing them.
In my view, it is better for a person to live with mercy.
To eat wholesome things, enjoy blessings, and live their life, while never forgetting that they will die.
Knowing about death does not ruin life; it may make a person appreciate it more.
Denying death, however, may turn life into a prison.
The Stability That Is Opposed
In the end, I return to the point from which I began.
There is, in this conception, a constant struggle between stability and disorder, between the center and disconnection, between the house and the intruder, and between the original and the substitute.
Unstable forces continually attempt to push the human being away from their center.
They create crises, increase fear, drive the person toward doubt, sever their connection with their origin, make them consume their body, despise their land, fear death, seek false immortality, and believe that the substitute is better than the original.
If they succeed, the human being becomes without a house, without a center, without boundaries, and without stability.
Here we can understand the meaning of “possession” on a broader level: the human being loses sovereignty over their inner house, so that the intruder becomes stronger than the owner of the house.
Protection, by contrast, means that the human being reclaims their center.
To know their origin.
To establish boundaries around what enters them.
To respect their body.
To respect their land.
To understand death.
To return to the original.
And to maintain their connection with the center.
Conclusion
Throughout all these ideas, I have returned to the same point, no matter how far I moved away from it:
The center is stability.
And the center is the source of creation.
When the relationship with the center becomes disturbed, gaps appear.
When gaps appear, disconnection emerges.
When disconnection emerges, disorder appears.
From disorder, the intruder emerges.
And from the intruder come possession, colonization, and occupation.
Therefore, the true house is the house that the intruder cannot occupy, and the true human being is the one who does not allow the intruder to become the owner of the house.
The sacred is that which maintains its connection with the original, and sacredness is complete life without interruption.
The devil, within this framework, is the image of a being that has lost the continuity of its relationship with the center, causing its existence to become intermittent and disturbed, attempting to compensate for the loss of the original by imitating it and exploiting the love others have for it.
Therefore, it cannot build genuine stability, but can only build an image resembling stability.
The most dangerous images may be those that appear outwardly like paradise while concealing fear, disorder, and disconnection within.
By contrast, the human being who knows their limits, accepts death, preserves their body, preserves their land, establishes boundaries for themselves, and continually returns to their center is closer to stability.
Therefore, I do not see the true struggle as merely being between a human being and a devil in the simple sense. Rather, at its depth, it is a struggle between connection and separation, between the original and the substitute, and between stability and disorder.
Whoever understands this equation can reread many things that appear separate from one another.
Possession, the house, sacredness, the body, the earth, prayer, death, Sharia, the original masculine principle—all ultimately return to one question:
Is the human being still connected to their center, or has the gap widened to the point where the intruder has become the one controlling the house?
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