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Aleister Crowley Diary Entry Thursday, 29 April 1920
Another big night's rest; yet I am still tired. It is my eyes principally, and I can't understand it; I never had that happen before; at least I don't remember such a happening.
We do not desire perfection; the God in us is perfect, and creates varied things, all imperfect, as a relief from monotony. Imagine a perfect game of chess; our interest would disappear just as it did in noughts and crosses when that game was fully analysed. It is therefore only being conscious of imperfection that hungers to perfection; it is the symptom of disease.
10.30 p.m. Opus[1] VI, 31-666-31 [Leah Hirsig], p.v.n.[2] Opus very good. Elixir exceptionally rich and sweet, full bodied and aromatic. Object: Invocation ∏AN. Result: Immediate Vision of the God, and colloquy.
11.00 p.m. When one realizes as an actual fact in experience that the starry universe is only a picture of one aspect of one's mind-no apodosis seems possible. One gets to this through the vision of the star-sponge from the direct analysis of the mind. This analysis is therefore a direct method of becoming 'god'.
This is new to me—see previous entries, where I distrust analysis. I wasn't taking it far enough. The name of the Abyss is Half-Way House: woe to the traveller who wearies at High Noon! (That, by the way, is what finished Hiram Abif;[3] if he'd gone on working instead of praying, he'd have died in his bed.)
1—[Crowley performs a magical sexual operation.] 2—[Per vas nefandum. By the unmentionable vessel, i.e. anal intercourse.] 3—[Hiram Abif (or Abiff) was a master worker in brass who was employed on the building of Solomon's Temple. He went out of the Temple at noon, was waylaid and murdered.]
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