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Correspondence from Frieda Harris to Aleister Crowley
[Undated: circa Summer 1940]
The Mall Chiswick
Tuesday
My dear Aleister,
I have been haunted all night by your complicated mind. You really ought to have a curema, and if I may humbly draw your attention to the fact that paper is only a surface and can't be made to hold things behind and before, altho you, wrapt in the Spirit, can walk all round them. Temperance is a kettle of fish, and listening to Beethoven last night I realized what a fiasco he made when he tried to convey all he knew in the last movement of the 9th and thereby giving up a glimpse of the transformation scene in the Pantomime, instead of the Pure Light of Heaven, having already led us thro the many coloured lands. But forgive me, only I feel nervous. I think, looking at the finished cards you will remember all the sequences you have forgotten and I shall be crushed by alterations which will confuse the structural design and any spectator without your knowledge and so suffer little children to come unto thee and confuse them not by too much symbolism and stay thy hand from poor Frieda's tormented visions.
About your Yoga book [Eight Lectures on Yoga], another please forgive me.
Would it not (if you are publishing yourself all these already beautiful books) be an idea if you didn't have an edition de luxe for the moment—as it would save expense. I believe if you give away these books to friends. They are quite lovely enough to ornament any library and be treasured and we are in such a state of transit that we can't take heavy luggage in our aeroplanes.
Yours ever,
Frieda Harris
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