2.1.5. Angels and Gods

“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”
— William Shakespeare, Hamlet

Before we explore the heavens, it is wise to pause and ask: what does it mean for something to be real? Most of us feel certain about reality—unless perception is radically distorted by illness or trauma. We sense a clear difference between thought and feeling, between memory and presence. We intuitively recognise the distinction between imagination and experience. Yet this very sense of “realness” is itself a mental construction.

When the mind creates an object—whether physical, mental, or emotional—it must also create a subject, a vantage point from which that object is perceived. This creation of a perceiving “I” is intrinsic to the process. Because the subject presumes its own reality, the object it perceives naturally takes on the flavour of truth. This is how perception, even within dreams or meditative states, appears convincingly real.

When beings are born into higher realms, the act of perception there generates a matching sense of subjective reality. Though we may struggle to believe in what we have not personally seen, part of our work as alchemists is to study the impossible. Faith, in our context, is not credulity—it is a disciplined openness.

The Deva Realms: The Shining Ones

In Buddhism, angels are known as Devas—a term often translated as “the shining ones” or “the playful ones.” These beings are not eternal, though their lives span vastly longer periods than ours, arising through the karmic fruits of generosity and non-harm. Typically, Devas have little interest in human affairs. They view our world as coarse, loud, and bewildering. Only a rare few make contact, often drawn by purity, virtue, or deeper intention.

There are three broad categories of Deva realms, loosely organised by their proximity to human experience:

1. Terrestrial Devas

These include beings reborn near Earth through kindness and generosity, but without deep spiritual insight. Their heavens are dim reflections of our own—palaces in trees, cities in rock, invisible domains interwoven with wilderness and suburb alike.

Some dwell in the moon or nearby celestial bodies. Such beings are often shy but may approach those of pure scent or heart. They are likely the origin of myths surrounding elves, nature spirits, or elemental entities. Their perception is subtler than ours, yet not transcendent.

There is also a heaven linked to the subtle body—a metaphysical geography that mirrors our internal anatomy. At its summit stands Mount Meru, a cosmic axis said to rise through the centre of existence. Its structure aligns uncannily with the human spine, particularly the 33 vertebrae—a potent metaphor for spiritual ascent.

2. Tāvatiṃsa Heaven (The Heaven of the Thirty-Three)

This celestial city rests atop Mount Meru and is ruled by gods engaged in moral struggle. It is the heaven of the generous—those who endured suffering yet remained kind. It is not a realm of perfect peace, but of noble conflict. Here, devas periodically battle yakṣas, symbolic demons who rise from the ocean of confusion below.

The number thirty-three resonates in sacred anatomy, representing subtle energy centres, virtues, or vertebrae. This realm does not embody enlightenment, but stands as the pinnacle of human goodness.

3. The Higher Deva Heavens

Above the mountain lies a sky populated by progressively subtler deva realms:

• Timekeepers and cosmic organisers
• Bodhisattvas and their retinues
• Mental architects who fashion realities by sheer thought
• And finally, devas who simply delight in the creations of others

The highest of these heavens is also home to Māra, the archetype of rebellion, doubt, and clinging to selfhood. These realms are less sensuous, more serene—yet still reside within the sphere of desire. Their joy is immense, but not ultimate.

The Brahma Realms: Radiance Without Desire

If Devas shine, Brahma beings radiate. These are the gods of the form realm, entities of light whose very existence is sustained by jhāna—the profound meditative absorptions.

Their awareness is vast. A Brahma overseeing a world system may be aware of all within it, much like light permeates space. Indeed, these beings may dwell within stars, their consciousness expanding as far as their radiance extends.

Access to the Brahma realms arises through mastery of jhāna in human life. The resultant consciousness at death becomes the bhavaṅga for Brahmic rebirth. Each Brahma realm corresponds to a progressively deeper, more stable jhāna:

These beings do not age, hunger, or cling. They exist as mind—yet are still bound until final release. The Pure Abodes are the highest of these heavens, reserved for those who have overcome the five gross fetters: attachment to body, rigid rules, doubt, and so on. Such beings do not return to the sensory world.

There is even a peculiar realm of non-perception, where beings exist in statue-like mental form without thought. Time passes for universes, yet they do not perceive it. Eventually, they reappear in new sensory worlds, reawakened.

The Formless Realms: Beyond Perception

The formless heavens extend beyond even light. These realms lack form, sound, or sensation—comprising purely abstract mental experiences cultivated by deep meditative concentration.

The four formless jhānas each lead to a corresponding formless rebirth:

• Infinite Space
• Infinite Consciousness
• Nothingness
• Neither Perception Nor Non-Perception

Only the first retains any spatial reference. Beyond that, individuality dissolves entirely. These beings possess no body, no mind as we comprehend it. They do not perceive conventionally, making it impossible to assert whether they “exist” in familiar terms.

Lacking hearing or sensory faculties, such beings cannot receive the Dhamma. Their existence is serene yet static. They are beyond sorrow—but equally beyond learning.

Still, once a human has truly tasted these meditative states, all craving for the material fades. It is said that such a person never again returns to the world in ignorance.

In Closing

This chapter could easily extend into volumes, but our purpose is not encyclopaedic. We do not study heaven to be dazzled, but to glimpse the architecture of karma. These realms are not myths or moral enticements—they are coherent outcomes of mental development. They represent the full flowering of particular mind-states taken to their utmost expression.

As alchemists, we do not aspire to rebirth in heaven. Our work is subtler. We recognise that heaven, like hell, is impermanent—and so we seek the unconditioned.

Still, a vision of these heavens can be heartening. They reveal what the mind achieves when it releases its grip, even partially. They show the fruits of goodness, concentration, and refinement. And they remind us to take this life seriously—for from this human birth, one may journey anywhere.

This text is excerpted from the upcoming book Albedo: A Course in Modern Alchemy. The complete volume will include additional study guides, glossaries, and extended teachings. Learn more about the book here.