Mary Butts Diary Entry

Sunday, 28 August 1921

Astral journeys.

Sigil

—a Saturnian sign.

Found, and have since on repeated visits, made my own, a circle among pale sand-dunes on the sea shore. The back of the circle is a high dune itself, the black mark a rabbit-hole. There is a plain, small grey stone altar in the middle. The first time I went in, I pulled a baby out of the hole. On the sand I saw the word . Outside I have seen (i) a large black moor demon. (ii) a dark goat-demon. I often have to fight to stay inside. The first time, when I had fought it out, I had a white [illegible] for a wand, and a white sugar-loaf hat. I can have them now when I want them, and they give me power. I can rise in God-form.

The first time I went out and found a nest of blue eggs and brought one back and put it on the altar. I brought back Cecil's [Cecil Maitland] astral shape, small brown, like a baby, and nursed it till it grew stronger. But although the sign is a sensual one, not with my sensuality, but as a sexless and tranquil equal with another. Sensuality didn't do.

The first time I put on the God form, and I came to a Saturnian precipice—mounted—at the top a cat-faced goddess of pink granite, sat on a throne. I was drawn into her, not to question, but to take her place. I felt like a person becoming God, but could not act.

The next time—I left my patch in the sand-dunes, and found the Saturnian cliffs indigo blue, sea below, an immense height. The nest with the eggs, now white and I took one, half way up. Even the cracks and seams of the rock face were of stupendous size.

I looked up, and saw that the cliff was an indigo-blue God reclining—egg-shaped misty head—It was sad—We spoke, without words, while I said that here were [illegible] 'enemies of the rose'—He agreed, but disagreeably— and a voice from behind kept saying 'a'arsh the [illegible]'—or '[illegible]' or '[illegible]'. 'a'arsh' = creation. It was dreary, bitter, and inconclusive. I put the egg on my altar to hatch, and [illegible] my 'patch' and came home. The patch is a poor place, but it belongs to me.

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