Jane Wolfe
Diary
Entry
Saturday, 9 April 1921
A.M. |
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5:45 |
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Try Yoga. Unable.
15’ Pranayama. |
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[1] |
At Abbey all morning,
discussing funds. How much better in the essential
matters of life to be absolutely straightforward,
frank, simple? Suppose it does cost an effort? Is
not all life an effort, and must not an occultist
face everything? |
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I saw Fuller [J.F.C. Fuller]
pictured in “Star
in the West”. The face startled me, and I am
curious. Have I known him before? Should like to
meet him. A “female soul in a masculine body”.[2]
Cabled M.K.W. [Mary K. Wolfe] |
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P.M. |
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Letter to Marion Marshall re
funds.
Some generalizations, in an
attempt to understand myself, for I have never
confronted me. I feel and I don’t feel. Somehow I
managed a long time ago to bottle up, to chain in
the cellar, or to muzzle, that part of me that
feels, and have lived—where? I don’t really know.
I have had a talk with
Genesthai [C. F. Russell]
regarding the Tree of Life and I said “Good God!”
As for the reason, I shall
“hold back” as Lea [Leah Hirsig]
said I did. Thoughts are things, the fewer the
better. Some day I shall add a P.S. to this entry.
Test entry.
For a long time I have felt
Shummy [Ninette Shumway]
will always be in my present life—if not in
immediate personal contact, at least by post or
other means. I shall always know her whereabouts.
Genesthai once my son, and
shall be again. |
4:55 |
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Have just realized that once I
yielded myself completely. My terror in May, 1918,
when after many efforts attempting catalepsy, I
collapsed, gave up all, and said: “I am afraid”. |
Comment(s) by Aleister
Crowley
1—Yes, it is.
He must. But so many "occultists" being thieves, I feel I
must guard the honour of the whole Tradition by keeping my
hands more than clean—antiseptic. So I am as sensitive as a
gentleman playing cards or a 'liver', who won't play for
money though he does so in his club. I'm 'ashamed' even to
sell my books, even at less than the cost of production. To
talk "business" at all is to me a sort of immodesty. I feel
like a king obliged to pawn his watch, or like a 'fine'
woman asking a friend for a loan, in agony lest he should
think she was offering her 'virtue'. Equally, if the friend
knows without doubt why I want the money, I am ready
to prostitute myself not only shamelessly, but proudly, glad
to prove my love for my Work by love's greatest motivation—personal
degradation!
2—Not a bit.
[102] |