Auto-Exorcism

Banishing the Demons of the Self

Let’s get something straight right off the bat: this is not your garden-variety exorcism. No spinning heads, no holy water, no terrified priest clutching a crucifix like it’s a WiFi router in the woods. No, auto-exorcism is a solo gig. A one-person operation. Imagine self-help crossed with metaphysics, sprinkled with just enough esoteric spice to make your therapist raise an eyebrow. It’s not about casting out evil spirits—it's about sitting them down for tea, asking why they moved in, and politely showing them the door. With grace. And incense.

Now before you accuse me of inventing this concept because I watched The Exorcist after a double espresso, let me assure you: I’ve been thinking about this for decades. Specifically, since I was a teenager with an odd fixation on the Caduceus—yes, that funky staff with two snakes doing a cosmic tango around a winged rod. Most people think of it as a medical symbol (thanks, ambulance decals), but I’ve always seen it as something more: a roadmap to spiritual alignment. An invitation. A dare, even. And I took it.

This peculiar obsession led me—naturally—to Hermeticism, the philosophical and spiritual system said to descend from Hermes Trismegistus, a mythic fusion of the Egyptian god Thoth and the Greek Hermes who wielded the Caduceus (Think of it as a divine collaboration album, Ancient Edition.) Hermes Trismegistus was a magician, philosopher, and motivational speaker of the cosmic variety, and the writings attributed to him, the Hermetica, speak of divine unity, the macrocosm and microcosm, and—most importantly for our purposes—the idea that true knowledge comes from within.

Now, I’ve written many blog posts about Hermeticism, because once you start peeling back its layers, you quickly realize it’s the metaphysical equivalent of an onion dipped in psychedelic honey. There’s the concept of “as above, so below,” which basically says the universe is fractal and you are a walking, confused version of it. There’s the idea of the divine mind, or Nous, which means if you’re not thinking about thinking, you’re not thinking hard enough. And then there's the belief that you, yes you, are capable of transforming yourself from base matter into gold—spiritually speaking. It’s not so much alchemy as it is soul renovation.

Which brings me back to auto-exorcism.

When I say “auto-exorcism,” I don’t mean purging evil with a mirror and a shot of espresso (although that can help). I’m talking about using Hermetic principles—inner reflection, self-initiation, and intentional transformation—to banish the inner saboteurs we carry around: fear, shame, apathy, self-delusion. These are not demons in the traditional horror movie sense; they are far more annoying. They interrupt your inner peace when you’re trying to meditate. They whisper doubts when you attempt to create. They convince you to binge-watch season five of something terrible instead of journaling about your spiritual awakening.

Hermeticism tells us that divinity is within. That the ultimate temple is not made of stone but of perception, intention, and consciousness. So if you’re waiting for a priest, a shaman, or your favorite podcaster to fix you—you’re missing the point. The sacred work must be done by you, on you, with you. You are both the haunted house and the ghostbuster.

Auto-exorcism, then, is the Hermetic ritual of calling yourself out, lighting a candle, and writing your own Book of the Dead in the margins of your day planner. It’s knowing when to surrender and when to transmute. It’s replacing “Why is this happening to me?” with “What am I still clinging to that allows this energy in?” It’s about reclaiming agency over the mental parasites squatting rent-free in your psychic real estate.

And at the core of all of this—the essays, the blog posts, the late-night scribbles in notebooks scented faintly of sandalwood—is my sincere belief that Hermeticism is not just my guiding light, but the lens through which I understand reality. If someone were to ask me, point-blank, what I believe in—I’d tell them: I believe in Hermeticism. I believe in the divine intelligence of the cosmos, the alchemical power of transformation, and in my ability to uninvite the unhelpful energies I’ve been politely hosting all these years.

So if you're ever feeling haunted, may I suggest: light a candle, breathe deeply, and channel your inner Hermes. You don’t need an exorcist. You need a little Hermetic gumption and a mirror. The demons won’t know what hit them.

(And if they do? Offer them tea. That really throws them off.)