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Victor B. Neuburg Diary Entry Saturday, 26 June 1909
12.5 a.m. The Ninth Day.
Good-night. I retire.
9.35. I arose at 9.25, performing my usual toilet.
My Holy Guru came to my bed-chamber yesternight, summoning me forth to speak with him. This was at about 12.20; I stayed with him until 2.15, when I finally sought repose. This time my Holy Guru complained scarcely at all, speaking kindly unto me.
I slept rather ill. (This is meant to cast no reflection upon my Holy Guru)
9.43. Brekker. Egg, bacon (plenty), toast; tea.
[I am writing these last few words in my bed-chamber.]
9.53. Back in the Chamber.
I shall read θελημα.
10.45. I defecate.
I am now, I think, almost quite
normal physically, save for a very slight cold in the head.
10.55. Charcoal ready. Now for journey!
11.32. Back.
Simply blue starry sky and nothing else. I returned quite easily.
Usual preliminaries. Mantra no longer necessary.
I find that I can fly better by using half my mind to concentrate on the soaring, and half to wander as it likes.
The effect of this is curious; below, it is dark and confused; above, it is always light and blue-gold. One has the sensation of perpetually passing through clouds.
My asana-posturing is much better; I think I am improving here.
Upon consideration, I am inclined to think that my yoga-vision of last night was all astral rot.[1] But I am of course agnostic on the point.
I shall read θελημα for a little, and then probably do pranayama. It is now 11.38.
I have very little incense left.
12.8 – 12.20. Pranayama. Very unsuccessful.
12.22. Meditation in Shavasana posture.
12.31. I shall kindle charcoal.
12.37. Now for journey!
1.6. Back.
Invocations as usual. I used the last of my incense. No mantra.
After some little difficulty in brown sky, I started. Thenceforward the sky was blue-gold all the way.
I passed a colossal brown giant, ithyphallic, black-bearded, with arms extended in the form of a cross. I had some little difficulty in passing him, but eventually I succeeded. This was pretty early in the journey. I returned quite easily and without effort.
It is now 1.10. I shall read θελημα till lunch.
I have a slight feeling of continually increasing power.
2.3. Lunch.
Cold meat, mashed potato, toast; bread-and-butter pudding; water.
A prize lunch, by God! Extraordinarily luxurious. I thank the gods and my Holy Guru. Gorgeous, gorgeous,—literally. I now apologise for my base enthusiasm.
2.14. Back in the Chamber.
I shall pace around the Circle a little, and think.
2.40. I cannot think clearly at all; probably it is too soon after lunch. But certain lines by Arthur Symons occur and recur to me.—
Here in my lonely room, . . . I am master of earth and sea, And the planets come to me.
2.42. Arrival of café noir, brought by my Guru’s slave.
2.43. Arrival of incense, by request, by the same agency. Good!
2.46. I defecate. Very slight diarrhea.
2.50. I shall burn incense.
2.57. Incense flourishing: I am undecided. I shall—meditate for awhile in my ‘Japanese’ asana-posture.
3.5. Vision of Force.
Blazing Pentagram; shining triangle; revolving star-wheel; phallus ejaculous; black giant giant, with enormous muscles; inverted tortoise.[2]
Nothing else, and nothing else in view. So I abandoned this meditation.
I shall rest a little, and then rise again.
It is now 3.8.
4.50!!! Peccavi!
When my foot awakes, I will again rise on the planes.
4.59. Charcoal is now glowing. I rise.
5.36. Back.
Invocations and incense as usual.
After some little difficulty I got into the blue-gold sky, and rose upwards for a long time. I was assailed persistently by a kind of egg-shaped oval skin. I cut it about with my Sword, but it seemed attracted to me in some way.
Eventually, ‘to see what would happen,’ I gave it its will, and let it envelop me. It was before transparent at my will,—I could see the blue sky through it. Now that I was wholly inside it, I was the centre of a Green World. The skin seemed to swell infinitely.[3]
At last I got into the gold-blue again. I was assailed sometimes by a golden cloud, but eventually this left me, and I rose quite comfortably in the starry blue; there was nothing else.
The egg-shaped skin seemed somehow to lift me to another sphere of consciousness.
I think that the Abramelin incense is extraordinarily good. It has also the merit of lasting a very long time; the former kind flared, or rather smouldered, out almost as soon as it was kindled.
It is 5.45; I shall try for a tub and shave.
1—Everything is astral rot; but ______ [indecipherable] α is a reflection of A, and A is only false in reference to .—P. 2—Is this vision spontaneous, or were you meditating on a single definite object?—P. Spontaneous.—O.V. [This is, of course, bad work.—O.V.] 3—This ‘skin’ was, of course, my aura. At the time it puzzled me greatly.—O.V.
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