|
Aleister Crowley Diary Entry Tuesday, 25 March 1924
die Mars.
Hail unto Kheph Ra!
12.30 "Training men to arms" This meant something of old, when practice fights were real fights less the element of risk of death. But modern warfare does not need the training of men in manly exercises. "Sham fights" are altogether sham. Training does not develop physical prowess or moral excellence to any extent in any worthy way: it leads to teamwork on a filthy job. Even the courage, intelligence, and prudence now required are not of the highest type. E.g. "living bombs" are certain suicides, of a kind not really courageous at all, but simply insane. In the Charge of the Light Brigade, the better the soldier, the greater his chance of survival; but there is no chance for the man under gas attack or dropping bombs which he can improve by improving himself. Thus when Nature has evened up with the attack on Her by Hygiene: the men who are fools enough to go to the front do not perpetuate their species.
12.50 A.M. The portrait of Thiers: benevolent bon homme with a cold bitter mouth. He is the modern politician in essence, cowardly, resourceful, smiling and grim: the "mouton enragé".
1.40 A.M. Still somewhat obsessed by the Ghoul's filthy threatening letter. It almost makes me want to know the worst, and I should open his bombshell had I not made up my mind to assume the worst everywhere, and start life again as the new-born helpless babe I am ----
"Petit poisson deviendra grand Pouron qu Dieu lui prête vie."
To avoid further murderous treachery—however 'well-meaning' it may be best to cut off O.P.V. [Norman Mudd] and hear only through Estai [Jane Wolfe] such things as will help my health to know, or require my personal action—when that might be of service. imaginations.
2 A.M. Disregarding the experience of several unpleasant [illegible]. I took Ethel [Ether] to encourage me to sleep. There was in fact a moment when such a nice Mamma bent over with a soft blackness, and then I did a naughty thing—I threw the clothes right off me! For I had to record this very important meditation—which carries on the thought of the 1.40 A.M. entry! ! (most unusual, such consecution!)—the meaning of "While there's life there's hope" and of "Skin for skin, whatsoever a man hath that will he give for his life" (latter not true by the way, like most Scriptural shallow plausabilities)
And this is it: so long as A.C. lived so long is there a chance of his writing something which will really be of use to the world. The conditions of such writing may be that I have to live long and desire death much—as the Book of the Law sets forth—perhaps in circumstances of the most grotesque and humiliating misery and suffering. It may be that extreme poverty, prison, lingering disease, anything may be required to squeeze out the last drop of my blood in to the Cup of Babalon, and wring forth from my parched and tortured lips the supreme cry of joy of a poets' indescribable agony.
It is this attitude (for I am dragged out of human shape by the wild horses to which I am bound) that explains my resolution to stand forth naked before the Gods, new-born, and challenge Them to justify Their work in wrecking my life. For nothing less can serve Their turn than this plea, that I had to be treated thus roughly in order to persuade me to give of my real best to Mankind. Have I, like Ananias, "kept back part of the price", and lied unto the Holy Ghost? And I have taken to myself such praise for having given so much!
Aiwass! my Lord! I am a child, and in Thine hands. Thou knowest, as I cannot, what is the best way to get the most from me. "Let me die standing!"—Ave Mors Justi!—craving Death as the one escape and to proud and keen, too royal and lofty, to make use of it: so that when it comes, I may renounce the Great Reward and declare myself ready as ever to accept the old Oath, resuming the burden of flesh at once, that I may be further of use to Man, in whatever way I may have earned by my work in this present Life. Aumn! Ha!
2.20 I resume my repose—oh hell—no Ethel!
3.45 A.M. Awake—oh hell! [illegible]. "Could ye not sleep one hour?" Coughing weakly but less tightly than sometimes. Breathing Ethel while meditating Shakespeare.
6.55 P.M. Woke again about 6.30 with C. It turned to mild A with only one big aq. [Heroin].
1.40 P.M. "The slaying of Thrift" Idea for an essay. The shrewdest peasant can no longer hoard; for there is no gold. All is inflation. He is compelled to invest in "securities" i.e. to gamble. For this reason alone the first step towards sanity must be the restoration of a gold standard.
2.15 P.M. Cf. Richard III at Bosworth and Henry IV at Shrewsbury. His son rescues him. Had Richard loved, he might have had a son to save him. This brings out the error of his 'policy' as to Anne, and of course generally. Love can thus actually rule in the end, besides giving happiness all the time.
3.40 Ethel. Have been looking at thins as a Demi-God of Old, watching the world some centuries hence. I understand the detachment of such beings very well, and the wisdom of Their interventions when, as is rare, they occur.
Pain is a matter of the body. Mental suffering is always a flaw: subjective: means impatience, passion and all unphilosophical qualities.
Noting how I have never settled definitely how I should commit suicide, if I thought it right to do so, I observe that the question is "How best attain the wished-for goal?" The thoughts of suicide need not therefore be unpleasant: on the contrary, the pain would come from any interruption on behalf of the "Will-to-live".
There were many other notable matters in this meditation: but (and here is a queer coincidence-analogy) the 'results' seem volatile as the Ether itself which discovers them.
3.50 I don't know why I have felt so feeble and ill all day. Doubtless I overdid it yesterday, talking to L. Hammond [Lorimer Hammond] and Hope Johnstone for 8 hours on end. One result has been to make me feel desperate about my health and affairs, with the acute point the shortage of aq. This idea is that famine will reduce me again to the helpless log state, in need of being nursed like a real baby, and mentally vacant from weakness, scarce able to lift a hand or think two consecutive thoughts. But Aiwass knows all about this, and will arrange things so that they come out perfectly according to the plan of the gods. How should I become an Ancestor if I insist upon rash blind interference with Their ways?
5.0 P.M. Discussion somewhere above to the effect that there should be a riddle. "Why is a bird like thinness?" I now find the answer: "Because a live dog is better than a dead lion".
The above may seem (momentarily) obscure to some of the more stupid of the less diligent of my disciples. (The answer was found "accidentally", by my seeing a vilely vulgar and imbecile caricature in the Paris Daily Mail (25-3-24) about the varsity sports: jumping in particular.) For fatness hinders one from rising above the earth, as a bird can; and a bird does it by activity (aided by proper mechanical apparatus) which a live dog has more than a dead lion. My unconscious mind has made this association—perhaps because in childhood I had despised the physical inertia of my father and mother—though he at least took occasional long walks. The 'flying dream' was at one time very frequent with me; and I set myself resolutely to combat my tendency to inherited fatness as seriously and severely as I did my S [Greek Sigma]; and of late, my idiosyncrasy for aq.
Fire and Air—their tendency to rise. I have seen bloated filmy forms in air, efflorescence as of soap-bubbles or rather froth as produced by certain kinds of tooth-powder pinkish froth, reminding one of some of Shelley.
[This continues in Crowley's Eighth Notebook]
Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law The Book of The Magical Record of ΤΟ ΜΕΓΑ ΘΗΡΙΟΝ The Beast 666 ΛΟΓΟC ΑΙΩΝΟC Θελγμχ] 93 begun An XX Sole in 5° Aries Luna in 4° Sagittarius at 5.0 P.M. die Mars 25-3-24 e.v. at 50 rue Vavin Paris VIe ended in the same place at 8.15 P.M. die Jupiter Sol in 14° Aries Luna in 8° Aries 3.4.24 e.v.
5. P.M. cont[inue]d. But in the realms of pure fire all forms are severely thin. The judge in the cavern (e.g. see Sick Man's Fancies) was the very ideal of a tall, lantern-jawed ascetic; and all the surroundings are as simple in every way as they can be.
Note that I have only one planet in an earth sign—and that planet is Mars, extreme activity, and the sign Capricornus, the leaping goat, ruled by Saturn, an exceptionally severe combination, implying the will to be remote from earth, even though compelled to base one's upward spring on it. Then, I have Neptune Hershel in Fiery signs. Jupiter Mercury Luna in Watery -- Saturn Sol Venus in Airy -- My true Self and true Will belong to the pure element; my sense of Ego, my life nature, and act-nature (love-nature) are airy; while my sense of the non-Ego (devotion to ideals, altruism) my intellect, and my sensorium partake of the quality of water. The airy factors resent earth scornfully; but my dangers, the restrictions upon my true Self and Will are watery. I should beware of weakness, flexibility, devotion to images (taking them for realities), love of pleasure, tendency to take the easiest way of escape, adroitness, and similar traits. Friendly to Fire are Air and Earth, so that I should cultivate the planets in those elements as aids to Neptune and Herschel. The case of Mars in Capricornus is specially important; for Mars is exalted (i.e. at its noblest, though not its strongest, in that sign. Hence my feeling that Earth is notably my true friend, the earth of Mountains (Capricornus in Zenith normally) barren earth (deserts, rocks, glaciers, wide moors of scrub or heather; that is the lure which land of this kind—especially when sun-scarred—has always had for me. Hence too my idiosyncrasy for Heroin, which combines the natures of Fire and Earth. Its use has increased my activity of spirit, burnt out my grossness. If only it were not partially a soporific and calming drug, it would be perfect. I must not yield to the Watery hostile elements Jupiter Mercury Luna: I must avoid sentimental devotion and reverence, distrust the naked intellect, and command the senses' appeal for idleness, fickleness, day-dreaming, and femininity.
My attitude to Mars in Capricorn also explains the original statement of Ouarda [Rose Kelly] the Seer in Cairo (March '04 e.v.) that I had neglected the Martial element in myself, failed to worship it, sought to suppress it. (This, obviously enough at the bidding of Venus, which is Square Mars in my nativity, and the other planets of unfriendly nature to Mars. E.g. Luna led me to avoid troubles by self-deception, poetic glamour, laissez faire etc.)
10.15 P.M. After a long talk 6.30 till now, bar an hour's exit with Hope Johnstone. Subject: Astrology, leading up to Liber AL especially its mathematical or Thelemical reasoning, and its doctrine of the reason.
|