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Mary Butts Diary Entry Monday, 1 August 1921
Went down to Cefalù—mixed drinks at the bar, called at the Commissario’s, looked again at the ‘Sedia Regis’ in the Cathedral. The town hummed, the landlady said I was ‘molto bella Signora’—(in distinction to the other Signore.) I loved it all—digged into common life again, shook off the Abbey—wanted more of it, and harder and sharper.
Coming down the hill—I saw the fishing fleet—or about 7 cutters standing out—each vessel with its sail full, careened over at such a tilt one saw the shape of the wind in relation to the floor of the sea.
Talked about last astral with A.C.
The idea is to find an automatic means of inducing the mystic state—(piecemeal way to the great work.) I am not very clear. There are two kinds of illumination that I know, one that clears up some point, and makes it significant for ever—i.e. that time at the ballet when I understood and for good the fundamental unity of its designs. Or a vague extasie [sic], infinitely enjoyable, ‘blessed.’ But transitory, and leaving generally not even a memory.
Now A.C. says (i) that these last states can be induced and controlled (ii) that my mind is likely stocked (iii) that the stock needs arranging in a formal design.
He suggested the meditation on himself as a ‘bloated corpse’ that, having meditated, I should [illegible] see the unreality and get a ‘kick off’, or ‘subliminal uprush’ from the release of the discovery.
I’ll try it, but I know how I can induce inspiration, to a certain extent. I will try to catalogue my mind—then cabalistically—it is a good shorthand—would give one a qualitative estimate of the universe.
Pranayama—1/4 hour—10 seconds in, 20 out gradually lengthened. When I shut my eyes.
Watch seemed to be sliding off sideways. Felt very ‘astral’ with shut eyes, slid off, just even remembering my mantra.
I understood the Leah [Leah Hirsig] is the surrogate for the Beast.
She is the Scarlet Woman of the Middle classes, the suburban whore, not a gay, [illegible] tart, not a lover, (though she is loyal to the Beast.) but a fanatical harlot—From her diary she has done it revoltingly. The [illegible]—it stinks (I am falling into Abbey candour). And the death of her baby was through idiotic neglect—or her story of it—with [illegible] after—the slattern’s sacrifice of the child to die together. I won’t write the rest—(some of it might ‘be good’ for me.)
But I see the Beast tender, wise, free, mild, well-read—and see that what she does makes her his scapegoat and dislike [illegible] into extreme understanding and she becomes innocent and like a child.
I have only indicated here, but [illegible] in—dead Poupée, his paternity, his sacrifice of wealth, her cheap causeless prostitution—etc.
Of course—their point of human contact is in their sexual perversity—he likes a girl he can bugger and she, bless her heart, doesn’t mind. One is on the edge of a mystery—
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