Main Themes and Important Ideas:

1. Elvis as an Evolving American Myth:

• Mythological Construction: Conner posits that Elvis's journey was a real-time construction of mythology, transforming a human being into an archetypal figure. "For so long we're watching in my in my estimation we are watching mythology being built inside of our lifetimes so we actually have the opportunity to see a real character being turned into what will eventually be uh an archetypal uh mythos."
• Symbol of America: Elvis symbolized the essence of America, encompassing its aspirations and its darker aspects. "Elvis we always knew Elvis was as American as apple pie but the question is yes uh you and I do a lot of work on mythology and when does that myth actually start working for the people working for our psyche that's what's important."
• Rejuvenating the Soul: Conner believes the Elvis myth, beyond the surface, holds the potential to rejuvenate the American spirit, especially during times of fragmentation. "Beyond showing like the hidden occult life of Elvis that's hidden in plain sight... it does show this myth of Elvis in different levels... I feel this is uh my hope is that it is very helpful to people we both know without a myth people will die eventually and I think Elvis really represents what it is to be an American and what it is to be America and as this country starts to fray away and fragment uh doesn't know its identity I think this book is could help get us there."

2. The Hidden Occult Life of Elvis:

• Hidden in Plain Sight: Conner argues that Elvis's occult interests were not secret but rather overlooked aspects of his well-documented life.
• Influence of Esoteric Texts: Elvis actively read and studied esoteric texts, including the works of Manly P. Hall, Yogananda, and Madame Blavatsky. He practiced exercises from these traditions. "When Elvis became really absorbed into the uh esoterica in the early 60s he was just he was off to the races... he got all these books and he would read them he would study them he would practice the exercises of yoga nandanda or Madame Blavadski but Manly Phal was a huge part of him he read all of his books..."
• Manly P. Hall's Influence: Elvis deeply respected Manly P. Hall, finding his mythological interpretations of figures like Christ particularly compelling. He sent Priscilla to Hall's lectures and was thrilled to receive a signed book. "He just loved the mythological aspects of Hall he loved the way Hall portrayed Jesus in a more again mythological cosmic sense and uh it really helped Elvis develop his own ideas of who Jesus was and what his role is..."

3. The Significance of Elvis's Birth and the Twin:

• Divine Twin: The stillbirth of Elvis's twin brother, Jesse Garon, shortly before Elvis's birth is presented as a potentially pivotal event. The interview explores the mythological concept of the divine twin and the "twinless survivor" phenomenon.
• Catalyst for Mysticism: The trauma and potential "survival guilt" associated with being a twinless survivor are suggested as a catalyst for Elvis's spiritual seeking and unique path. "The Twinless Survivor is nobody knew about it back then it was kind of like ah he won't remember you know he'll be fine and his mother never really talked much about it... but there is that phenomena called the twinless survivor uh where the twin is forever changed and lives with this sort of uh guilt survivors guilt they wonder about what happened always asked why did I survive right why did he live twinless survivors are seekers they want the bigger questions of life like why God did this to me and so forth then they are very spiritual people..."
• Pre-Ordained Fate: The interview touches on the idea of fate and destiny, with the blue light appearing over the Presley home before Elvis's birth and a falling figurine during Gladys's labor cited as potential omens.

4. Rock and Roll as a Form of Spirituality:

• Holy Tent Revival: Early rock and roll is framed as akin to a Pentecostal holy tent revival, with musicians like Elvis, Little Richard, Jerry Lee Lewis, and Johnny Cash having roots in religious contexts. "Rock music was more like a holy tent revival when it first started by critics they couldn't they're like these what these Pentecostals have replaced Holy Spirit with baby and it really was a form of spirituality..."
• Fusion of Gospel and Blues: Rock music is presented as a fusion of experiential gospel music (shamanistic Christianity) and the "devilish blues" (rooted in African animism and the trickster myth). "Rock music really was this fusion of uh gospel music experiential gospel music shamanistic Christianity if you would and of course as I write the devilish blues which is based on African animism the trickster myth uh you know the lefthand path kind of uh world and these two fused together and El and really culminated with Elvis elvis himself said 'I carry heaven and hell with me and I have to be careful.'"
• Shamanistic Concert Experience: Concerts are described as modern shamanistic experiences where audiences connect with the performer (shaman) for healing and the creation of a collective "egregor," leading to altered states of mind ("rock and rolling").

5. Elvis's "Magic" and Supernatural Abilities:

• John 14:12: This Bible verse ("Truly, truly, I say to you, whoever believes in me will also do the works that I do; and greater works than these will he do...") is highlighted as a significant text for Elvis, reflecting his belief in the potential for greater works through faith.
• Reported Supernatural Powers: Conner discusses accounts from Elvis's inner circle (Priscilla, spiritual teachers, bodyguards, etc.) suggesting he possessed abilities such as healing, weather manipulation, moving objects, astral travel, and reading auras.
• Purpose of Supernatural Abilities: Following Yogananda's teachings, Elvis believed these abilities were signs of spiritual progress and individuation, not tools for worldly gain or public display. "He was taught from yoga nandanda that your supernatural abilities are only useful in so far that they show you're getting closer to the divine you are individuating that's all they mean you're not meant to solve world hunger or anything like that jesus does the same he doesn't call them miracles he calls them signs because the ca when Jesus is doing these things he's just telling people the kingdom of God is near me god is near me."
• Collective Belief: The interview emphasizes the role of the "disciples" (fans, entourage) in amplifying Elvis's "magic" through their collective belief and focus of energy.

6. Elvis as a Transformer of Gender and Sexuality:

• Androgynous Power: Elvis is portrayed as a figure who shattered traditional gender roles, embodying androgyny and connecting with both the masculine and feminine aspects of himself. "Elvis really shattered all of those things again he really was the ultimate symbol of the androgine the power of the thema the animas the all the polar again heaven and hell he represented and we know in mythology that is the supreme state of any sort of consciousness the androgine Elvis was certainly androgynous..."
• Impact on Women and Men: He empowered women by showcasing their sexual and intellectual power and allowed men to embrace vulnerability.
• Multicultural Influences: Elvis's love for multicultural music also contributed to his transformative impact.

7. Elvis and "Mommy Issues":

• Complex Relationship with Gladys: The interview touches on Elvis's intense and potentially enmeshed relationship with his mother, Gladys, exploring its possible Freudian underpinnings (Vernon triangle, Oedipus complex).
• Role of the Survivor Child: Elvis's position as the surviving twin and the only remaining child after Gladys was told she couldn't have more children is seen as contributing to this dynamic.
• Impact on Elvis's Life: Gladys's possessiveness and the "lethal enmeshment" are linked to Elvis's workaholism, self-destructive tendencies, and struggles in relationships. Her death exacerbated his guilt. "Gladys certainly was very possessive and I talk about lethal in meshments how destructive it is it creates again we go to the twin you know you've got Jesse always in Elvis's head guiding him... but then it's the the child is then split more into the proxy spouse and the little uh naughty Hermes who can you know he's trying to escape and that's how he escapes the mother's oppression and that of course did terrible damage to Elvis..."

8. The Question of an "Elvis 2.0":

• David Bowie as a Parallel: Conner suggests David Bowie as a comparable figure ("Elvis 2.0") who shared similar themes, fate, and impact in a different post-war context. "As soon as I was done with the book I was like oh my god my 15 minutes of fame as a biographer is over I can go back to writing books aboutnosticism or work on another I was so happy another voice came and said no you forgot about Elvis 2.0 it's like oh god who could Elvis 2.0 know B and the image came to me and it said 'Oh it's David Bowie.'"
• The Role of the Trickster: Elvis is viewed as a trickster figure who led American culture through a significant transformation. His "spirit" might still aid in future cultural shifts.
• Potential for Artificial Incarnation: The possibility of a future "artificial" Elvis (e.g., through AI or holograms) achieving similar cultural impact is briefly considered due to the current fragmented nature of consciousness.

9. Elvis's Spiritual Quest and Philanthropy:

• Seeking Connection with God: Conner emphasizes that Elvis's primary quest was spiritual understanding and connection with the divine, rather than just fame or fortune.
• Charitable Nature: Elvis was portrayed as a deeply charitable individual who generously supported individuals and organizations, driven by his spiritual values. "His great quest was not money or fame was to try to make contact with God... making contact with God makes you consciousness and he was really one of the most charitable human beings you could find... he was a philanthropist in the truest sense..."
• Consequences of Intense Energies: The interview acknowledges the potential toll that embodying such powerful energies can take on an individual, referencing the struggles of other spiritual figures.

Frequently Asked Questions: The Occult Elvis

1. What is the central argument of "The Occult Elvis"? The book argues that Elvis Presley was more than just a musician; he embodied a significant American myth, possessing a hidden spiritual and occult life that was evident in his biography and public persona. This myth, viewed through various esoteric and mythological lenses like Jungian psychology, Steiner's philosophy, alchemy, and the work of Joseph Campbell, reveals Elvis as a transcendent figure who reflected and shaped the American identity, particularly during a time of cultural fragmentation. The book posits that understanding this mythical Elvis can offer insights into the American psyche and its evolving identity.

2. How does the book connect Elvis to the concept of myth and archetype? The author sees Elvis as a modern-day myth being constructed within our lifetimes, evolving into an archetypal figure. This goes beyond mere celebrity, suggesting that Elvis symbolizes fundamental aspects of the American experience, both its triumphs and its shadows. The book explores how Elvis's life and image resonate with deep-seated mythological patterns, providing a narrative that speaks to the collective unconscious and fulfills a spiritual need, especially when traditional myths seem to be waning.

3. What significance does Elvis's twin brother, Jesse Garon Presley, hold in the context of the book's argument? The stillbirth of Elvis's twin brother is presented as a pivotal, potentially fated event that profoundly influenced Elvis's life and spiritual journey. The concept of the "twinless survivor" is introduced, suggesting that Elvis carried a lifelong sense of guilt, a quest for deeper meaning, and a tendency towards workaholism, self-destructive behaviors, and addiction—traits often associated with this phenomenon. Mythologically, the surviving twin inheriting the unspoken life force or destiny of the deceased twin is also explored, suggesting Jesse's death may have inadvertently "christened" Elvis for his extraordinary path.

4. How does the book interpret the early days of rock and roll, particularly Elvis's music, through a spiritual lens? The book argues that early rock and roll, with Elvis at its forefront, was akin to a holy tent revival, a form of spirituality rather than just entertainment. Many of the pioneers of rock and roll, including Elvis, had roots in gospel music and were seen almost as pastors by their audiences. The term "rock and rolling" itself had origins in Pentecostal churches, describing an altered state of mind. Elvis's music is presented as a fusion of this experiential gospel and the "devilish blues," creating a powerful, almost shamanistic experience for audiences, capable of inducing altered states and facilitating a sense of collective healing and self-discovery.

5. What was Elvis Presley's relationship with esoteric and occult ideas, and who were some of his influences? The book reveals that Elvis became deeply interested in esoterica and occultism in the early 1960s, reading extensively on the subject. A significant influence was Manly P. Hall, a prominent figure in American occultism. Elvis read Hall's works, appreciating his mythological interpretations of religious figures like Jesus. Although they never formally met, Elvis deeply respected Hall and sought his insights, even sending Priscilla to attend his lectures and requesting signed books. This engagement with esoteric thought shaped Elvis's understanding of spirituality, his own role, and potentially the deeper meanings behind his experiences and abilities.

6. How does the book address the claims of Elvis possessing supernatural abilities? Drawing from accounts by Priscilla Presley, spiritual teachers like Larry Geller, bodyguards, and family members, the book explores claims that Elvis possessed abilities such as healing, manipulating the weather, moving objects, astral travel, and reading auras. However, it emphasizes that Elvis, influenced by teachings like those of Yogananda, believed these abilities were signs of spiritual progress rather than tools for worldly gain or public display. This perspective explains why Elvis didn't overtly demonstrate these powers for fame or to solve global issues, aligning with a more mystical understanding of their purpose.

7. In what ways did Elvis Presley challenge and blur societal norms and boundaries, particularly regarding gender and sexuality? The book portrays Elvis as a transformative figure who significantly impacted gender roles and sexuality in the United States and the West. He awakened a sense of power in women and showed men that vulnerability and sensitivity were acceptable. Elvis embodied an androgynous persona, comfortable with aspects of femininity while remaining heterosexual, thus shattering traditional notions of masculinity and femininity. His cultural impact was so profound that he is seen as having "seeded the spirit of the 60s" through his embrace of diverse musical styles, his androgynous appeal, and his interest in mysticism. He also seemingly separated fertility from sexuality in the public consciousness, allowing for a new appreciation of sensual pleasure.

8. Does the book suggest the possibility of another "Elvis" figure emerging in contemporary society, and what are the challenges? While not definitively identifying a direct successor, the author draws a parallel between Elvis and David Bowie, suggesting Bowie fulfilled a similar mythic and transformative role in a different cultural context. Regarding the future, the book acknowledges the vastly different and more fragmented nature of contemporary culture, which might make the emergence of a singular, universally impactful figure like Elvis more challenging. The possibility of artificial intelligence or metahuman figures playing a similar role in the future is also briefly speculated upon, highlighting the need for a force capable of resonating deeply across a diverse and complex societal landscape to achieve a similar level of cultural impact.

Pre-Birth & Early Life:

• 1935: Elvis's twin brother, Jesse Garon Presley, is stillborn in Tupelo, Mississippi, 35 minutes before Elvis's birth during the Great Depression. The family cannot afford a doctor.
• Pre-Birth Phenomena:A blue light reportedly appears over the Presley home before Elvis's birth, seen by his father, Vernon. This is interpreted as a herald of a significant figure.
• A story (possibly apocryphal) suggests one of two figurines on a shelf fell as Gladys Presley went into labor.
• The Twinless Survivor: Elvis is born healthy but carries the potential psychological burden of being a "twinless survivor," characterized by survivor's guilt, a quest for deeper meaning, spirituality, workaholism, self-destructive tendencies, and proneness to addiction.
• Early Spirituality: Growing up in the American South, Elvis is immersed in Pentecostalism and gospel music, which are described as experiential and potentially shamanistic forms of Christianity.
• Discovery of Self: Unlike the traditional narrative of being "discovered," the interview suggests Elvis actively brought himself into the limelight, forging his own image.

The Rise of Elvis and Rock & Roll:

• Mid-1950s: Elvis emerges as a prominent figure in the burgeoning rock and roll scene.
• Rock & Roll as Spirituality: The interview posits that early rock and roll, with figures like Elvis, Little Richard, Jerry Lee Lewis, and Johnny Cash (many with religious backgrounds), functioned like a holy tent revival, a form of spirituality replacing the Holy Spirit with secular themes ("baby").
• Fusion of Influences: Rock music is described as a fusion of experiential gospel music/shamanistic Christianity and the "devilish blues" rooted in African animism and the trickster myth. Elvis himself stated, "I carry heaven and hell with me and I have to be careful."
• Cultural Impact: Elvis's music and persona are seen as a transformative force, waking up the "kundalini of women," showing men could be soft and vulnerable, and shattering gender and sexual norms. He is described as an androgynous figure embodying both anima and animus.
• Backlash and Rejection: Elvis faces criticism and denouncement from evangelical Christianity, including his own pastor who believed he was possessed by Satan. Billy Graham also publicly criticized him. This rejection contributes to his later openness to occultism.
• Early Supernatural Manifestations (Reported): According to the interview, based on accounts from family, friends, and spiritual advisors, Elvis reportedly exhibited supernatural abilities like healing, manipulating weather, moving objects, astral travel, altered states of mind, and reading auras. These were not seen as tricks or performances but signs of spiritual individuation, aligning with teachings he later encountered.
• Loss of Privacy: Elvis stopped attending church regularly due to the overwhelming attention and chaos his presence caused.

Embrace of Esotericism and Mysticism (Early 1960s Onward):

• Deep Dive into the Occult: Elvis becomes deeply absorbed in esoteric and occult literature.
• Influence of Manly P. Hall: Hall, a prominent figure in American occultism and the New Age movement, becomes a significant influence. Elvis reads all of Hall's major works and admires his mythological interpretations of religious figures, particularly Jesus.
• Indirect Connection to Hall: Due to his fame, Elvis couldn't attend Hall's lectures in person. He sent Priscilla Presley to take notes and would discuss them with her.
• Near Meeting with Hall: In the early 1970s, while recording in Los Angeles, Elvis attempted to meet Manly P. Hall. While Hall sent a signed book, a direct meeting did not occur due to Hall's prior commitments.
• Discussion of Esoteric Ideas with Musicians: Elvis would engage his studio musicians in discussions about cosmology and mythology, sometimes to their frustration as they wanted to focus on recording.
• Spiritual Guidance: Larry Geller becomes Elvis's spiritual teacher, facilitating his exploration of esoteric texts and practices, including those of Yogananda and Madame Blavatsky.

The Archetype and Legacy:

• Elvis as a Messiah Figure: The interview draws parallels between Elvis and messianic figures, suggesting that his "disciples" (fans, entourage) and their belief in him were crucial to creating his powerful archetype and perceived supernatural abilities.
• John 14:12: This biblical verse, emphasizing that believers will do greater works than Jesus, was reportedly one of Elvis's favorites, aligning with the idea of manifesting supernatural abilities as a sign of divine connection.
• The "Corporation of Elvis": The collective belief of those around him amplified his perceived power, creating a "psychic engine."
• Blurred Boundaries: Elvis blurred traditional lines, not just in sexuality but also seemingly in what was physically possible, leading to a sense of his divine nature.
• "Not Dead" Phenomenon: The enduring belief that Elvis is still alive is seen as a sign of his mythological ascension and his continued strong presence in culture.
• Comparison to Other Archetypes: Elvis is compared to Jesus, King Arthur, and Buddha as figures who transcend death in the cultural consciousness.
• The Trickster Archetype: Elvis is also framed as a trickster figure who led American culture through significant transformations in the 1950s, similar to Loki or Hermes in other mythologies. His spirit might help navigate future cultural shifts.
• The "Elvis 2.0" Theory: The interview proposes David Bowie as a similar figure with parallels in fate, life, and symbolism, suggesting a recurring archetype adapting to different cultural contexts.

Personal Struggles and Influences:

• Mother Issues: The interview explores Elvis's complex relationship with his mother, Gladys, suggesting a potentially "lethal enmeshment" that had significant psychological consequences, contributing to workaholism, addiction, and relationship problems.
• Gladys's Influence: Despite potential over-attachment, Gladys also instilled positive values in Elvis, such as the equality of all people under God.
• Desire to Help Family: Elvis's drive for fame was partly motivated by a desire to alleviate his family's suffering.
• Gladys's Death: Her death deeply affected Elvis, leading to further guilt and potentially exacerbating his health issues. His father, Vernon, reportedly blamed Elvis for her death.
• Comic Book Influence: Captain Marvel, a superhero who is an amalgamation of mythological figures and transformed from an ordinary boy, was a favorite of Elvis, possibly reflecting his own sense of destiny and power.
• Innocence as a Source of Power: Elvis's childlike wonder and innocence are seen as crucial to his ability to draw belief and enact change.

Death and Beyond:

• Ritualistic Aspects of Death: The interview suggests that even Elvis's death at age 42 held symbolic and ritualistic significance, possibly echoing Egyptian mythology.
• Continued Influence: Despite his death, Elvis remains a potent cultural force and a figure of ongoing fascination and study.

Miguel Connor is here with me today to discuss his latest book. It’s a book about Elvis, and there are countless ways to explore what it means—or doesn’t mean. I’m not sure where this conversation will take us, but first, thank you so much, Miguel. Could you tell us the name of the book so people know where to find it? Thanks for having me on, James. True host, meet Miguel Connor, your guest. The tables have turned—the hunter’s now the hunted. But it’s always great talking with you, man. The book is called The Occult Elvis, that’s right. This is, honestly, a crucial take on the King. In my view, we’ve been witnessing mythology being constructed within our lifetimes. We’re getting to see a real person transform into what will eventually become an archetypal mythos. Do you think that’s an exaggeration, or could you expand on this idea? Not at all—I think you’ve nailed it perfectly. We’ve long recognized that Elvis came as close as anyone to embodying what America is: the heights of the American dream and its lows, the shadow side too. Yes, we’ve always known Elvis was as American as apple pie, but the real question is this: you and I both study mythology, so when does that myth start working for people, for our psyche? That’s what matters—when does it begin to rejuvenate the soul of a tribe? I believe that’s what this book achieves. Beyond revealing the hidden occult life of Elvis—which, honestly, is hiding in plain sight in biographies and elsewhere—it explores the myth of Elvis on multiple levels. I examine him through the lenses of Jung, Steiner, alchemy, and Joseph Campbell, showing how he transcends, well, the world itself. My hope is that this proves helpful to people. We both know that without a myth, people eventually wither, and I think Elvis truly represents what it means to be American—what America itself is. As this country frays and fragments, struggling to find its identity, I believe this book could help guide us. At the end, I suggest that Elvis might be our last hope for that American essence. I don’t provide a checklist of what it means to be Elvis, but I hope readers can feel that experience for themselves.

It’s easy for us, looking back at Elvis from the other side—after his image has been cemented, almost like stained glass—to have a clear picture of him. But really, Elvis was the one forging that image himself. One thing I loved about your book was watching a mythology come to life. I saw this golem of spirituality take shape around him, and it wasn’t quite the story I expected—not just Elvis being discovered. In many ways, he discovered himself and thrust himself into the spotlight, which is a different path than most might imagine. It resonates deeply with the idea that mysticism wells up from within us. You see it in his entourage, his family, his fans, and even the cultural icons around him—people who start off seeing something mortal, then shift midstream to believe it’s divine. And no one seems to disagree with this along the way. Honestly, Miguel, this book blew my mind—I’m still figuring out how to ask you a proper question! But let me rephrase this: even at his birth, the notion that Elvis was a divine twin, spending 35 minutes in the womb—correct me if I’m wrong—after his older brother perished, feels significant. With all the survivor’s guilt thrust upon him the moment he entered the world, it seems like a catalyst. Do you think this was pre-ordained, or did the act itself christen Elvis to burst forth into this strange, explosive, firework-like life? That’s a great question—one I wrestled with in real time while writing the book. Fate, destiny—is it all written in the stars? Can we change it? Elvis certainly embodies that struggle. Even before Jesse’s tragic death, there was a blue light over the house, a herald of historic figures like Jesus, Alexander the Great, or Buddha. His father, Vernon, saw it and freaked out. Then there’s a story—possibly apocryphal, but as we’ve discussed, facts sometimes take a backseat in our talks—about two figurines on a shelf: one fell the moment Gladys went into labor. Wow. So fate was already in motion. Jesse was stillborn, and I often try to imagine the look on Gladys, Vernon, and the family’s faces. They couldn’t afford a doctor—it was the Great Depression, 1935, in a Mississippi shack. Picture the anxiety, the tension. But then Elvis emerged and survived. In the book, I explore the many mythological angles of this. You’ve done so much work on twins, and with that blue light—knowing your books on the power of blue—I thought, “James True’s going to love these sections.” The Twinless Survivor phenomenon wasn’t understood back then; people thought, “He won’t remember, he’ll be fine.” Gladys rarely spoke of it, wouldn’t visit the grave, just said, “He’s with God now.” Elvis had to go with his father alone to see it. But this Twinless Survivor condition changes you forever—living with survivor’s guilt, wondering, “Why me? Why did I live?” They’re seekers, chasing life’s big questions like, “Why did God do this?” They’re deeply spiritual, but there’s a curse with that gift. Twinless Survivors are often workaholics, self-destructive, and prone to addiction. In one chapter, I compare Elvis to Philip K. Dick, another Twinless Survivor with similar traits. Both were history-altering figures who died too young, tormented by their twins, drugs, and destructive relationships—hallmarks of that experience. So, was this fated from the start? It feels that way. It seems Elvis was destined to be Elvis.

It really does. It almost feels impossible to create—I’ll use this term loosely—a Moonchild without these events to shape and thrust someone into that spotlight. Take Rome, for instance, founded on twins: one immortal, one mortal. Here—though you might say I’m stretching it, but I don’t think so—you’ve got a stillborn twin who’s purely immortal, paired with Elvis, who’s fueled by this outlaw rage of the South, smashing through every norm like they didn’t exist. People don’t fully realize yet just how many paradigms Elvis obliterated, leaving them in the dust and proposing a new way of being—rooted in religion but also in the natural timbre of the soil around him, the rhythm and blues. I was fascinated to learn that the term “rock and roll” ties more to comfort. Could you educate us a bit on that? Yeah, one argument I make in the book—and others have noted this too, like Chris Knowles today, but even back in the ‘50s—is that early rock music was like a holy tent revival. Critics at the time said, “What? These Pentecostals swapped ‘Holy Spirit’ for ‘baby’?” It was genuinely a form of spirituality. Look at figures like Little Richard, Jerry Lee Lewis, Johnny Cash, and Elvis—guys from the Memphis area. They were seen as pastors before musicians. Dig deeper, and “rock and rolling” originally described a Pentecostal churchgoer entering an altered state, heading down the aisles, freaking out—that’s what it meant. Rock music fused experiential gospel, a kind of shamanistic Christianity, with what I call the devilish blues, rooted in African animism, trickster myths, and left-hand path vibes. These two merged and peaked with Elvis. He himself said, “I carry heaven and hell with me, and I have to be careful.” Viewing rock music as a spiritual force born at the crossroads of post-World War II America makes it click. It even resonates in our lives today. At concerts—whether it’s Taylor Swift or the Grateful Dead—we’re in a shamanistic experience. These forces help us understand ourselves; the shaman figure sees our pain and heals us. We’re there to form an egregore, to “rock and roll,” to slip into an altered state. So, if we see rock music as spirituality—not mere entertainment—and as a modern shamanism, it makes more sense and becomes more meaningful.

Exactly. The blues concept ties into this too. Elvis wove blue into his color schemes, his music—even, as you noted, that blue haze at his birth. It’s about finding joy in sadness, a deep psychological marker of human growth. That’s a big part of his magic, I think. He brought heaven and hell together, like you said—a frequency with a ceiling higher than we can fathom and a floor lower than we can bear. His alignment with blue fits perfectly, breaking through colors in a soulful, spiritual way people hadn’t grasped before. That’s the transformative, shamanic power of music you’re describing. It’s why festivals feel so alive when you’re there, walking the grounds, immersed in that egregore—it’s tangible. On that note, I was stunned to learn Elvis knew Manly P. Hall. Of all people, not only did he know him, but he looked up to him. Can you shed some light on their friendship and how that even came about? Absolutely. Manly P. Hall was the GOAT of American occultism and New Age in the ‘50s, ‘60s, and ‘70s. When Elvis dove into esoterica in the early ‘60s, he was all in—like how we get when we discover something new and rush to buy every book on Amazon. But unlike most, he actually read them, studied them, practiced the exercises from Yogananda and Blavatsky. Manly P. Hall, though, was huge for him. He devoured all his works—The Secret Teachings of All Ages, The Mystical Christ—loved Hall’s mythological take on things, especially how he framed Jesus in a cosmic, mythic light. It shaped Elvis’s own views on Jesus and his purpose. They almost met a few times. He knew showing up to Hall’s LA lectures would spark chaos—wherever Elvis went, it turned into a Dionysian frenzy, maenads and all. That’s why he ditched church in the ‘50s; it just wasn’t doable. Instead, he’d send Priscilla to take notes at Hall’s talks, and he’d geek out over them: “This is great!” Once, while recording in LA in the early ‘70s, he asked his spiritual teacher, Larry Geller, “Can you get me a signed book?” Larry went, but Hall’s secretary said, “No way, he’s too busy today.” Larry replied, “It’s for Elvis.” She checked with Hall, who said, “Cancel everything, I’ll do it.” He signed it, sent it back, and Elvis was thrilled. That day in the studio, he drove the musicians nuts, rambling about cosmic order and myths instead of recording—they were like, “Dude, let’s cut the album!” Another time, busy as ever—the classic workaholic—he was in LA with a rare free moment and called Hall: “Can we meet?” Hall said, “I’d love to, but I don’t break appointments—I’ve got commitments.” So, sadly, they never met. Still, Hall was a massive influence once Elvis embraced the occult—or whatever we call it. That word still freaks people out when I’m on radio, James. What do we even call it?

Yeah, that’s the power of the message itself—it’s meant to carry a charge. Terms like that should feel costly to hear, or “esoteric” would lose all meaning. The last thing we need is Elvis making esoterica mainstream—it’d vanish, right? When I visited Graceland, the tour guide, a lovely young lady, pointed out his occult books on display. Some were open, showing his scribbled notes. She casually said, “Oh, by the way, Elvis was very spiritual.” That’s the safe word—no cost to it, especially for the 50-year-old Australian women visiting Memphis. Then you see his grave in the garden, decked out with Buddhist and Taoist touches. It’s fascinating how we dance around these terms, isn’t it, James? Exactly. Elvis would’ve been nothing without disciples—I’m using that term loosely here—from his fans and entourage to his almost Edward Kelly-like bond with Geller. These people were like scrying tools around him. When you’re trailing the King, take Manly P. Hall: he held his ground, saying, “I can’t skip my appointments,” but still felt Elvis’s pull enough to pause and sign a book for him. It shows the sheer force of Elvis. I’m circling to this because I want to read John 14:12—correct me if I’m off, Miguel, but this might’ve been one of his favorite Bible verses, if that’s fair to say. Let me read it: “Truly, truly, I say to you, whoever believes in me will also do the works that I do; and greater works than these will he do, because I am going to the Father.” Want to tweak anything about his connection to that verse? Spot on. The Gospel of John was always Elvis’s favorite part of the Bible. As I note in the book, it’s originally a Gnostic text, later adapted and co-opted. He loved everything about it, but that verse stood out. I show in the book—using solid sources like Priscilla, spiritual teachers, bodyguards, girlfriends, family, no tabloids or sketchy sites—that Elvis had incredible abilities. Not stage magic or tricks, but real supernatural powers: healing people, tweaking the weather, moving objects, astral travel, entering altered states, even reading auras. Some folks have asked me, “Why didn’t he flaunt that in Vegas or declare, ‘I’m Elvis, your king’—like that Dio song Stargazer, ‘I’m the king of the world’?” But Yogananda taught him those abilities only matter as signs you’re nearing the divine, part of individuation. They’re not for solving world hunger. Jesus called them signs, not miracles, to say, “God’s kingdom is close; God’s with me.” That’s key—some get mad he didn’t show off, but I say, “That’s not how mystics roll.”

That ties into my original point: a Messiah’s nothing without disciples. Your book navigates this truth brilliantly, which is why occultism has that edgy vibe. I’ll just say it—a cult thrives on hiding how the magic works; that’s its power. If you’ve got an entourage believing in Elvis even half—or a quarter—as much as he believed in himself, you’ve got a potent engine of faith. Hearing your stories—like Elvis melting clouds, then making everyone wait to bring them back because it mattered to him—I see it this way: he was savvy enough to know his disciples weren’t always pure, honest mirrors. Sometimes, I’d catch him almost convincing himself, wrestling with the massive pressure others put on him. His healing, his insight into people—it was powered by that group consciousness. That’s what forges an archetype: it’s hoisted beyond human limits, bathed in supernatural glow, leaving no way down from that height. Call it a pedestal or a cross—it’s the same tool. It’s a collective mechanism, a “corporation of Elvis”—everyone invested in his powers. To me, true magic is like a welding bubble of belief: get enough people pouring their prana into this oxygen-free space, and you can melt steel. Elvis Presley did exactly that. Oh, absolutely. He had natural power, no doubt, but he needed his people—he needed to tap into that blue light. He’d always say being with an audience gave him this electric charge, the best feeling ever. It’s a shame we don’t have much concert footage of Elvis when you think about it, but the way crowds reacted—it was a potent shamanistic experience. That’s why he’s likely the only rock star to sell out every show he booked, from small halls to the Houston Astrodome to Vegas. His tribe, his disciples, were always there for this vital, healing ritual of rock music, steeped in spiritual overtones. It seems Elvis wrestled with how much to lean into that—how much to hold back. I might be projecting, but you mentioned his Captain Marvel blue suit with the lightning bolt as an early inspiration. You and I instantly picture the white suit, that shamanistic, regal vibe, right? I see it as his childhood innocence giving him license to pull that massive belief from everyone, driven by pure superhero joy—not some rigid, smoky Catholic Pope vibe. That playfulness—do you think it tied into how he blurred lines, not just with sexuality but gender too? He was shattering glass ceilings daily—causing pain and anguish as culture watched—without facing any real backlash. What’s your take on that?

Yeah, he was like a nuclear bomb in the nuclear age, permanently shifting gender roles and identities in the U.S. and the West. He awakened women’s kundalini, showing them their sexual, intellectual, and overall power. And he taught men they could soften—be vulnerable. The alpha male wasn’t Gary Cooper’s chiseled tough guy anymore; it was Marlon Brando and Elvis—sensitive, soft. Remember when we called them metrosexuals in another era, James? That was it: fully in touch with femininity, connected to women, as savvy with makeup as they were, yet still mostly heterosexual. Elvis smashed those barriers. He was the ultimate androgyne—embodying thema, animus, all the polarities, heaven and hell. Mythology calls that the pinnacle of consciousness, and Elvis was undeniably androgynous. He moved like lightning—hard to penalize. Sure, jealous boyfriends and husbands came after him, threats piled up—that’s why he picked up martial arts in the ‘50s when it was unheard of here, why he carried four or five guns. Evangelical Christianity, his own roots, turned on him—Billy Graham slammed him publicly, his pastor claimed he was Satan-possessed. It burned him, pissed him off, and partly drove him toward the occult. He thought, “You’re just a business, not living what you preach. I’m a good, moral guy—screw you.” He couldn’t stomach eternal damnation or other dogma, either. I call him the Lord of the Crossroads—this pivotal shift in gender and sexuality post-‘50s into the ‘60s. Public figures say he planted the ‘60s spirit with his occultism, mysticism, androgyny, and love for multicultural music. He was massive. Postwar America’s identity? It starts with Elvis.

Yeah, Elvis split fertility from sexuality. He took what was once just about making farmhands—procreation—and found real joy and salvation in the feelings, the tones themselves. That’s his core appeal, I think: he sparked mental constellations never lit before, those nuanced shades between fertility and sexuality that always fought to surface but often got crushed in past eras. It sets the stage for what’s next, and if you’re a surfer like Elvis, you’re right there riding the wave. Before you jump in—here’s a thought: with Elvis, it might’ve been the first time in history women could openly objectify men. The switch flipped—it was fine, healthy even. He was dubbed a “safe sex hero” because he beamed into TVs and movies, letting women—and plenty of men—mentally indulge in his image. It was okay, good, a way to explore your inner self. Critics noted the term “teenager” didn’t exist until the ‘50s—a limbo between childhood and adulthood. One minute you’re a kid, the next you’re working the farm or a job. Then the ‘50s hit, Elvis leading the charge, and suddenly there’s this middle ground, a Bardo called “teenager,” free to play with these energies. It helped that this was Eisenhower’s America—money flowed, and teens suddenly had cash and clout. They spoke up: “We don’t like this brave new world. Sure, World War II and the Depression are done, but now there’s UFOs, satellites, the Red Scare with China and Russia, mass media, highways popping up—this is some freaky sci-fi mess, and we’re lost.” Enter Elvis with rock music—a fresh spirituality, a theology of freeing your sexuality and soul—guiding this generation into America’s next chapter, for better or worse. I don’t judge; I just call it history.

It feels like every glance back at American history shows a pattern: a burst of new consciousness, then a full-on revolt against it, then another burst—and it loops. Today, it’s tough—I see people griping about what’s going on now, and I can’t help thinking Elvis heard the same noise constantly. It was all around him—stuff so new, so potent, people just couldn’t process it. That raw, unfamiliar energy is what turns Elvis divine. He hasn’t been gone long, yet since I was a kid, I’ve heard, “No, he’s not dead; he’s still alive.” It’s the mythological on-ramp to divinity, to prophethood—the insistence he’s still here. I’d struggle to argue against it; he’s still a vibrant note in our culture. When we wrestle with what existence means, Elvis shows us prophets are just people who sparked mental constellations never felt before. We have to see them as eternal—it’s the only way to justify giving them that much space in our minds for something so vital. Perfectly put. Is Jesus dead? King Arthur? Buddha? Not really—they linger, part of us still, arguably more alive than ever. Elvis is too. Take the recent sad passing of Val Kilmer—think of True Romance. That film hit our generation hard, that Tarantino-grunge shift that changed culture forever. There’s that scene where Val Kilmer’s Elvis, coaching Christian Slater’s character: “Go shoot this guy; be a man.” It’s in the book, but it’s one of my favorite movie moments. Even back when I was a Beatles guy, not an Elvis fan, I thought, “That’s America—badass, pure manhood.”

Yeah, watching that old “Elvis or Beatles” divide try to hold up now, with this wild spectrum of options we’ve got, just nods to what Elvis kicked off. By unraveling that spectrum, he gave us way more to pick from. That’s why we’re into sci-fi, all the wild stuff in our heads—because he opened those doors. But, Miguel, I think Elvis had some mommy issues—serious ones, tied to a powerful archetype. We all do, right? No escaping it. Wait, no, Miguel—you and I don’t have mommy issues; why are you implying that? Can we just end this interview now? Kidding, kidding—so, I’ve heaped plenty of praise on Elvis here, which is why I saved this for the middle, to see how far we’d take it. But the guy had mommy issues, and I want to toss out a few points—straight from your book, so I’m just stealing them—and get your take. Yeah, I show both sides of Elvis Elvis in the book, which I love—so let’s dive in. It starts with the Vernon triangle. Elvis’s dad wasn’t exactly a strong patriarch—can we agree on that? Just a beta guy, nice, but that’s it. It sets up something Oedipus-like: Gladys falls for the patriarchal vibe she craves, but it’s Elvis—her surviving child, the one who made it when all seemed lost—who fills that role. Then she learns she can’t have more kids—post-hospital, she’s told, “No more babies.” Wow, Elvis is it. It’s almost like a Morgana-Arthur love child setup—sorry, I think it’s “Morgana”—where Elvis is forced into the patriarch spot as a kid. That’s huge, but there’s more. His breakout hit? “It’s All Right Mama”—coincidence, maybe, but it’s there. Then, Elvis couldn’t sleep with women who’d conceived—yep, that sank him and Priscilla; once Lisa Marie arrived, he couldn’t perform in the bedroom, though Vegas was fine with its tech. He even slept with his parents due to sleepwalking—terrible anxiety, or so the story goes. Gladys was possessive—I talk about lethal enmeshment in the book, how it wrecks you. It’s like Jesse’s ghost guiding him, like Jane did Philip K. Dick, splitting Elvis into a proxy spouse and a tricky Hermes escaping her grip. That messed him up—bad relationships, addiction, workaholism, self-destruction—all fated. Her death hit even harder; she was his world. You brought up Oedipus Rex—I draw that parallel too, though some miss it. Oedipus was a king, a rock star, beat the Sphinx, had mama issues—what’s the core question? Can you dodge fate? Egyptian myths echo it—Isis, Osiris shelved like Vernon, Horus stepping up. Their hermetic fate mirrors this; Osiris’s exit tanked Egyptian religion—“Main guy’s gone, invent something new.” Back then, you’ve got the primal golden child on every level: Elvis as patriarch, surviving twin, and youngest—eternally innocent. In the womb, younger twins often filter the world through their sibling, so his magic’s amplified—his cipher’s a ghost, immortal, and he’s chasing its shadow. Double whammy: golden child and sibling. That’s how you craft a Moonchild—planetary and psychological alignments at conception birthing a global mystic. It’s a whole other existence. So, Miguel, here’s where I’m going: in today’s fragmented culture, how does a star like Elvis even launch? Is it possible? Will we see another?

No, I don’t—well, hold on, let’s unpack this great question. First, a side note: Phyllis Diller used to quip, “If Jesse had lived, he’d be gay,” and Philip K. Dick swore Jane would’ve been a lesbian—more androgynous forces at play. After finishing the book, I thought, “My 15 minutes as a biographer’s done; back to Gnosticism or something new.” I was thrilled—then a voice hit me: “You forgot Elvis 2.0.” I’m like, “Who could that be?” Then it clicked: David Bowie. I doubted it at first, but they’re the same—same fate, life, destiny. Some of it’s deliberate; they met, talked, even boosted each other’s careers. Bowie’s impact and symbolism mirror Elvis, but he’s more the British-West Europe figure—postwar worlds diverged, one fading, one rising, and Bowie held it up. That’s my next book. The parallels are wild—lightning bolts, Captain Marvel vibes, UFO obsessions, Ziggy Stardust screaming Elvis. Bowie even said, “I rocked the same jumpsuit and bolt as him—I’ll be the queen to his king.” Fun stuff. Is there an Elvis 3.0? I’m not sure, but that energy could guide us. A key theme is the trickster—think Hermes, Loki—who ushers cultures through crossroads, sparking alchemical shifts. Elvis did that in the early ‘50s; his spirit could do it again as America morphs—who knows into what. Your Bowie point reminds me of Guthrie and Dylan—Dylan basically siphoning Guthrie’s spirit on his deathbed, like, “I’ll take your essence and run.” No shade to Dylan, but that’s the vibe. Now I’m wondering—off-topic maybe—but could the next Elvis be artificial? His base-chakra shift altered how we feel the world, and replicating that in today’s fractured consciousness needs huge amplification—beyond human, metahuman, maybe AI or a hybrid. I call it the Nimrod Equation—too much to dive into now—but Elvis knew what rocked people, what moved them. Harness that, and you reshape society. That’s the Nimrod archetype: crafting something so irresistible, people can’t help but build the tower. It hits that primal, “God, this feels good” level—Elvis’s true power, right?

Yeah, I’d agree—he did appear as a hologram in Blade Runner 2, so he’s already kind of making that move. But yeah, that’s the opportunity—what kind of egregore are we going to create; what kind of alchemical lab are we going to work in together? I think so too—it should be about the spirit of Elvis, the demigod of the American dream, its personified egregore. What’s next? I haven’t found an Elvis 3.0 yet—when I finish the Bowie book, I’ll let you know. I sometimes ponder—Prince, maybe? Hard to say, but he’s a contender with that purple hue, keeping the color magic alive, building on itself. Still, it’s tough to imagine how something like that emerges now. Back then, the day before “It’s All Right Mama” dropped, picturing what we’re struggling to see today was just as impossible. That’s the real power of these figures, I think.