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Correspondence from Aleister Crowley to Jane Wolfe
63, Washington Square, New York City.
May 20. 1919
My dear Miss Wolfe,
Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law.
But do you keep silence? If I thought you could ------
You spoke; I merely made the elastic natural response, in the Way of the Tao.
Asana is any posture which is steady and easy. You do not know what physical comfort is till you have mastered an Asana. It is hard work because you were wrong to begin with.
An Arahat is a Perfected man.
I do not understand quite about humility, meekness, love, etc., of which Los Angeles seems so full. What distant horizons?
As for your vision, I don't get much without any context. Isolated visions rarely mean much: you need to make a long series of willed experiments, and keep a careful record on the model shewn in The Equinox.
I wanted you to write fully because that helps me to find out where you are, even who you are. I can help you to shine, star, if I can trace your orbit. This is particularly interesting in your case (though it is the rule anyhow) because I have a suspicion that your orbit is (has been or will be) somehow mixed up with mine. I feel a strong sense of familiarity about your personality, and the idea comes to me of a bygone intimacy. The deeper layer of this seems to be that you had the natural right to speak with absolute frankness, so that you might have been a near relative, or a colleague of long standing. I hope I do not have to tell you that these impressions are rare with me.
I have for some time suspected that sooner or later I shall have to come to California. I was there in 1916, but conditions were all wrong. It looks as if it might be better in the next few months. Unless a definite current sets in, I am more likely to go to Tizi-Ouzou. However, as I say, a current would not surprise me.
Well, that was a digression. All I want at present is for you to let me know more—nay, all—about yourself. I should like to know if you have any feeling about me such as I get about you. Do my writings wake up anything of a sense of recollection?
Love is the law, love under will.
Yours most sincerely,
666.
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