2.1.4 Hell and Hell Beings

“The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven.”
— John Milton, Paradise Lost

There appear to be two kinds of hell. One is metaphysical — a realm of karmic consequence beyond this life, shaped by mind and carried by consciousness. The other is psychological — a hell that can emerge here on Earth, through suffering so intense, persistent, and personal that it mirrors the torments described in scripture.

I cannot say whether one’s bhavaṅga (life-continuum) can shift mid-life — the texts are silent or vague — but I have witnessed transformations so deep, so total, that it seems plausible. Trauma, mystical experience, and profound inner awakening all hint at this possibility.

For now, let us focus on metaphysical hell — not as dogma, but as a working model. Understanding this lays a powerful foundation for recognising, and ultimately escaping, the personal hells we might inhabit while still alive. Just as importantly, it helps us recognise these states in others — particularly those suffering in isolation, resentment, or despair.

Metaphysical Hell: Echoes of Karma

Each sense faculty — sight, sound, taste, touch, smell — along with the discriminative mind, generates karma. Each also receives karmic results independently. It is not one unified “you” making all the decisions; it is more like a coalition. Your eye may desire the cake. Your mind imagines its taste. Even if you “know better,” the decision is already heavily weighted.

This internal fragmentation — consciousness divided into multiple craving-driven streams — is well symbolised in Revelation’s “seven-headed dragon.” Each head is a consciousness seeking its own pleasures or avoiding its own aversions. The eighth, the Whore of Babylon, rides the beast: corrupted ālaya, storehouse consciousness, Buddha-nature twisted by desire. She does not lead the dragon — she is tangled with it.

In truth, there is only one awareness, flowing through different sense organs. But because its objects vary, we mistake these streams for independent forces. We become divided. The seventh consciousness is “I,” the perceiver; the eighth is the subconscious ālaya, where karmic impressions are stored.

Over a lifetime, this composite forms the being. Sense impressions, memories, desires, identities — all combine to create the illusion of self. But this self is a weave, not a truth.

At death, these sensory consciousnesses should unravel. But if powerful, unwholesome karma remains — especially unresolved ill-will — this unwinding does not complete. The mind loops. Resultant consciousnesses replay in an echo chamber of denial. One cannot move on until one accepts what happened, owns one’s actions, and releases them.

This is hell. It is not punishment; it is stasis. A recursive hallucination constructed by one’s own karma.

Table: Karma and the Architecture of Hell

Hell on Earth

What is both fascinating and sobering is how many people already live in hell, not just after death. There are those whose suffering is so complete, whose bitterness or addiction so entrenched, that it mirrors the descriptions of hell-beings. Is it possible they are, in some sense, partially manifesting a hellish bhavaṅga even now?

I cannot claim certainty. But I do know transformation is possible — that people can awaken, that the road to Damascus is real. Perhaps it is not the bhavaṅga itself, but some deep shift within its architecture that allows new perspectives to emerge, sometimes dramatically.

For me, it is more practical to think in terms of this “Hell on Earth.” It helps us see human suffering not as weakness, but as karma ripening into visible form. The drug addict, the cruel bureaucrat, the paranoid recluse — each is playing out a version of metaphysical hell in the flesh.

Demons and Ghosts: The Beings of Hell

Demons

In metaphysical hell, demons are manifestations of the self — figments replayed by karmic echoes. They appear to torment, but are projections of the mind’s denial and resistance. They are the “others” in our personal underworld: beings who punish, mock, or hunt — but they are us.

In our earthly context, demons are the living — those whose behaviour is so self-interested and unconscious that they inflict suffering on everyone around them. These people suffer as well. They do not understand why. They feel trapped and blame the world, unaware they are generating the very pain they endure.

Hungry Ghosts

These are different. Hungry Ghosts are beings consumed by craving rather than hatred. In metaphysical terms, they wander in the shadows of attachment — clinging to food, people, memories, status. They are neither fully in hell nor in the world. They hover.

Eventually, they forget even what they crave. Their awareness fades until they are reborn as primitive life: fungi, moulds, slimes — still feeding, but now blind to the act.

In our world, they are addicts — not only to substances, but to validation, possessions, people. They dwell on society’s margins. Some scavenge; others hoard wealth, art, followers. All are haunted. All are hungry.

On Demonology and Sympathetic Magic

These metaphysical demons — shadows of the self — can be manipulated in magical traditions. One’s personal aspect of, say, Baal, can be invoked to influence another’s. This is the basis of sympathetic magic: not fictional, but a resonance between shared karmic archetypes.

However, if one is actively working to purify unwholesome karma, these influences lose power. They encounter resistance. It is said to be dangerous to curse a truly whole person — not merely someone religious, but one whose inner being is purified. The demonic force reflects back upon itself.

There is also a distinct class: Skandha Demons. These are not hell-beings but fragments of self arising through pride, desire, or clinging to evolving views. We will explore them in a later chapter.

In Closing

Hell, whether after death or here in life, is not punishment. It is consequence. It is what happens when perception, karma, and denial trap the mind in loops it cannot break.

Yet it is not eternal. The moment we accept responsibility — fully, without justification — the loops begin to unwind. It may not happen instantly, but the process starts. The path opens.

As alchemists, we do not fear hell. We study it. We learn how it functions, how it arises, and how to navigate it — in ourselves and in others. Eventually, we walk out of it. Not because we were rescued, but because we saw clearly, chose rightly, and stepped with faith into the light.

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.