THE EQUINOX Vol. I. No. I 2nd half

July 13, 1989 e.v. key entry and October 1, 1989 e.v. first proof reading against the 1st edition
--- done by Bill Heidrick, T.G. of O.T.O. (further proof reading desirable)
(c) O.T.O. disk 2 of 2

O.T.O.
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Pages in the original are marked thus at the bottom: {page number} Comments and descriptions are also set off by curly brackets {} Comments and notes not in the original are identified with the initials of the source: AC note = Crowley note. WEH note = Bill Heidrick note, etc. Descriptions of illustrations are not so identified, but are simply in curly brackets.

(Addresses and invitations below are not current but copied from the original text of the early part of the 20th century)

NB: Comments inserted in square brackets and frequently concluded by "--- ED." are in the first edition "Equinox". These are by the original Editor, Cpt. Fuller in the first numbers of Volume I.

		      THE HERB DANGEROUS

I. The Pharmacy of Hashish. By E. WHINERAY, M. P. S.

II. The Psychology of Hashish. With an attempt at a new classification of the mystic states of mind known to me, with a plea for Scientific Illuminism. By OLIVER HADDO.

III. The Poem of Hashish. By CHARLES BAUDELAIRE. (Translated.)

IV. Selections illustrating the Psychology of Hashish, from "The Hashish-Eater." By H. S. LUDLOW.

{231}

		      A	PHARMACEUTICAL STUDY

	       (BEING A	COLLATION OF FACTS AS KNOWN
		       AT THE PRESENT DATE)

CANNABIS INDICA was introduced into England by O'Shaughnessy, and the first extract was made by the late Mr. Peter Squire, the well-known pharmacist of Oxford Street. According to the "British Pharmacopeia" the official variety may consist of the flowering or fruiting tops; and is frequently of inferior quality, seeing that the fruiting tops yield less resin.

     According to the "Journal"	of the Chemical	Society's Transactions,	the

     Its medicinal properties are sedative, anodyne, hypnotic and

     It	does not produce constipation or loss of appetite; on the contrary

     Dr. Martindale remarks that recently the Cannabis imported	had more

     Antidotes for Cannabis poisoning are the stomach-pump or emetics

     Dr. Robert	Hooper in his "Lexicon Medicum"	(page 315), published in

     "The leaves are chewed or smoked like those of tobacco and	an

     The following article by Mr. David	Hooper,	F.C.S.,	F.L.S. (Curator	of

		      CHARAS OF	INDIAN HEMP

     Although "charas" has been	properly described as "a foul and crude

     On	reaching British territory all charas is weighed before	the nearest

	       1904-5		 1905-6		   1906-7
Cwt.  .	 .	2818	 ...	  2446	   ...	    2883

     Small quantities of charas	are made, chiefly for local consumption, in

     The following is the mode of preparation.
     "The female 'bhang' plants	are reaped when	they are waist high and

     The local rates per tola are: for first quality 2a.5p., second quality

     "Adulterations." --- Aitchison in 1874 stated that	no charas of really

     Mr. Hooper	added descriptions of samples, namely: Kashgar charas,

     "Chemical Examination." --- The table of analyses appended	is taken from

Z____________________________B_________B_________B_______B______B________?

3  Description of Charas     3 Extract,3Vegetable3  Ash, 3 Sand	3Volatile3
3			     3Alcoholic3 Matter	 3Soluble3	3 Matter 3

3    "	     1r. 1a. .	  .  3	42.6   3  18.8	 3 11.1	 3 23.2	3   4.3	 3
3    "	     "Mashak"	  .  3	41.1   3  11.3	 3 10.7	 3 29.5	3   7.4	 3
3		      1r. 9a 3	       3	 3	 3	3	 3

3    "	     (2)  "  .	  .  3	22.0   3  35.2	 3 20.8	 3 15.1	3   6.9	 3
3    "	     (3) 1905	  .  3	24.2   3  16.0	 3 13.3	 3 39.3	3   7.2	 3
3    "	     (4)  "  .	  .  3	26.0   3  24.1	 3  9.6	 3 31.0	3   9.3	 3
3    "	     (5)  "  .	  .  3	24.9   3  27.3	 3 11.5	 3 25.8	3  10.5	 3

     According to Fluckiger and	Hanbury, charas	yields one-fourth to one-

     "Physiological Values." --- Captain J. F. Evans. I.M.S., Chemical

     Amritsar Mashak   .   32  3    Bombay  .	 .    .	   4
     Delhi Mashak .    .   24  3    Amballa Mashak    .	   2
     Amballa Mashak    .   23  3    Delhi dust	 .    .	   2
     Garhwal	  .    .   21  3    Kumaon wild	 .    .	   1
     Delhi dust	(2nd)  .   20  3    Kumaon cultivated .	   1
     Amritsar Bhara    .   19  3    Gwalior .	 .    .	   1

so that the best Amritsar charas is thirty-two times as potent as the Gwalior product, the latter from plants grown in the plains, while the amount of alcoholic extract bears no relation to the physiological activity of the drug.

     Professor Greenish	in his well-known work on "Materia Medica" says	the

     The hemp plant grown in India differs, however, in	certain	{240}

     The cultivation of	hemp for its seed and fibre dates from very remote

     The pistillate plants by which alone the resin is secreted	in any

     During the	manipulations to which the plant is subjected in preparing

     All these forms of	the drug are largely used in India for producing an

     The drug has a powerful odour, but	is almost devoid of taste.
     Numerous attempts have been made to isolate the active constituent	of

     In	1881 Siebold and Bradbury isolated a thick yellowish oily liquid

     In	1894 Robert separated a	dark red syrupy	mass possessing

     In	addition to this principle Matthew Hay in 1883 obtained	colourless

     Cannabis Indica was formerly used as a hypnotic and anodyne but is

     It	is administered	in mania and hysteria as an anodyne and

     Mr. E. M. Holmes, F.L.S., Curator of the Pharmaceutical Society's

     A strong dose of Cannabis produces	curious	hallucinations abolishing

     Before closing it might be	well to	notice in detail the final

     The following is re-printed from the "Proceedings of the Chemical

			   CANNABINOL

     "The Authors have continued their examination of Cannabinol, the toxic

     "The substance boils with slight decomposition at about 400x its

     "An account is given of the reaction of Cannabinol	with Acetic

     "By long boiling with or without dehydrating agents a hydro-carbon

     "Oxidation	with aqueous chromic acid, alkaline or acid permanganate or

     "This substance when boiled with nitric acid yields a light-red

     "This compound has	the properties of a nitro-lactone, as has already

     "Corresponding crystalline	potassium and silver Salts have	been

     "Amido-Cannabinolactone, C11H11O2NH2 is obtained in colourless

     "The base is readily re-crystallised from hot water, its salts cannot

     In	a later	paper read before the Chemical Society Messrs. Wood,

     "The oily lactone prepared	from nitrocannabinolactone (oxycannabin) is

     "By the oxidation of Cannabinolactone a lactonic acid is produced

     Through the courtesy of Messrs. Parke, Davis and Co., manufacturing

     From several samples of Cannabis Americana	fluid {245} extracts and

     The method	of assay, which	has previously been called to the attention

     In	applying the test, the standard	dose (in form of solid extract for

     Within a comparatively short time the dog begins to show the

     Experience	is necessary on	the part of the	observer to determine just

     The influence of the test dose of the unknown drug	is carefully

     Finally, when the animals become drowsy, the observations are recorded

     The second	day following, the observations	upon the two dogs are

     Another point to be noted in the use of dogs for standardising

     Previous to the adoption of the physiological test	over twelve years

     At	the beginning of our observations careful search of the	literature

     There is some variation in	the amount of extractive obtained, as would

     The repeated tests	we have	made convince us that Cannabis Americana

     Furthermore, we have placed our quantities	of fluid extract and solid

			    CONCLUSIONS

1. The method, outlined in the paper, for determining the physiological activity of Cannabis Sativa by internal administration to especially selected dogs, has been found reliable when the standard dose of extract 0.01 gramme per kilo body weight, is tested on animals, the effects being noted by an experienced observe in comparison with the effects of the same quantity of a standard preparation.
2. Cannabis Sativa, when grown in various localities of the United States and Mexico, is found to be fully as active as the best imported Indian-grown Cannabis Sativa, as shown by laboratory and clinical tests. Much has been written relative to the comparative activity of Cannabis Sativa grown in different climates (Cannabis Indica, Mexicana and Americana). It has been generally assumed that the American-grown drug was practically worthless therapeutically, and that Cannabis Sativa grown in India must be used if one would obtain physiologically active preparations. {250}
   Furthermore, it has been claimed that the best Indian drug is that grown especially for medicinal purposes, the part used consisting of the flowering tops of the unfertilised female plants, care being taken during the growing of the drug to weed out the male plants. According to our experience, this is an erroneous notion, as we have repeatedly found that the Indian drug which contains large quantities of seed is fully as active as the drug which consists of the flowering tops only, provided the seed be removed before percolation.
   Several years ago we began a systematic investigation of Americangrown Cannabis Sativa. Samples from a number of localities were obtained and carefully investigated. From these samples fluid and solid extracts were prepared according to the Pharmacopoeial method, and carefully tested upon animals for physiological activity, and eventually they were standardised by physiological methods. Repeated tests have convinced us that Cannabis Americana properly grown and cured is fully as active as the best Indian drug, while on the other hand we have frequently found Indian Cannabis to be practically inert.
   Before marketing preparations of Cannabis Americana, however, we placed specimens of the fluid and solid extracts in the hands of experienced clinicians for practical test; and from these men, all of whom had used large quantities of Cannabis Indica in practice, we have received reports which affirm that they have been unable to determine any therapeutic difference between Cannabis Americana and Cannabis Indica. We are, therefore, of the opinion that Cannabis Americana, will be found equally as efficient as, and perhaps more uniformly reliable than Cannabis Indica obtained from abroad, {251} since it is evident that with a source of supply at our very doors proper precautions can be taken to obtain crude drug of the best quality.
   The proper botanical name of the drug under consideration is Cannabis Sativa. The Indian plant was formerly supposed to be a distinct species "per se," but botanists now consider the two plants to be identical. The old name of Cannabis Indica, however, has been retained in medicine. Cannabis Indica simply means Cannabis Sativa grown in the Indies, and Cannabis Americana means Cannabis Sativa grown in America. Its introduction into Western medicine dates from the beginning of the last century, but it has been used as an intoxicant in Asiatic countries from time immemorial, and under the name of "hashish," "bhang," "ganja," or "charas," is habitually consumed by upwards of two hundred millions of human beings. The physiological action of Cannabis Americana is precisely the same as that of Cannabis Inidca. The effects of this drug are said to be due chiefly to its action upon the central nervous system. It first produces a state of excitement similar to that of the initial stage of acute alcoholism. This excitement of the motor areas and other lower centres in the brain, according to W. E. Dixon, of the University of Cambridge, "is not the result of direct stimulation of these, but is due to depression of the highest and controlling centres. At all events there is a depression of the highest centres, and this is shown by diminished efficiency in the performance of mental work, by inability to concentrate attention, and by feeble judgment." In lower animals the effects of Cannabis Indica resemble those in man, and present the {252} same variations. A stage of exaltation with increased movements is sometimes present, and is followed by depression, lassitude and sleep. Reflex excitability is first increased and then diminished. Cannabis Indica differs from opium in producing no disturbance of digestion and no constipation. The heart is generally accelerated in man when the drug is smoked. Its intravenous injection into animals slows the pulse, partly through inhibitory stimulation and partly through direct action upon the heart muscle. The pupil is generally somewhat dilated. Death from acute poisoning is extremely rare, and recovery has occurred after enormous doses. The continued abuse of hashish by natives of the East sometimes leads to mania and dementia, but does not cause the same disturbance of nutrition that opium does; and the habitual use of small quantities, which is almost universal in some Eastern countries, does not appear to be detrimental to health. Cannabis Americana is employed for the same medicinal purposes as Cannabis Indica, which is frequently used as a hypnotic in cases of sleeplessness, in nervous exhaustion, and as a sedative in patients suffering from pain. Its greatest use has perhaps been in the treatment of various nervous and mental diseases, although it is found as an ingredient in many cough mixtures. In general, Cannabis Americana can be used when a mild hypnotic or sedative is indicated, as it is said not to disturb digestion, and it produces no subsequent nausea and depression. It is of use in cases of migraine, particularly when opium in contra-indicated. It is recommended in paralysis agitans to quiet the tremors, in spasm of the bladder, and in sexual impotence not the result of organic disease, especially in combination with nux vomica and ergot. {253} The ordinary dosage is:
   Extractum Cannabis Americanae, 0.01 gramme (1.5 grain). Fluidextractum Cannabis Americanae, 0.05 cc. (1 minim). The dosage of Cannabis Americana is the same as that of Cannabis Indica, as from our experiments we find that there is no therapeutic difference in the physiological action of the two drugs. Cannabis Sativa, when grown in the United States (Cannabis Americana) under careful precautions, is found to be fully as active as the best imported Indian-grown Cannabis Sativa, as shown by the laboratory and clinical tests. The advantages of using carefully prepared solid and fluid extracts of the home-grown drug are apparent when it is considered that every step of the process, from planting of the drug to the final marketing of the finished product, is under the supervision of experts. The imported drug varies extremely in activity and much of it is practically inert or flagrantly adulterated.

        The writer	desires	to acknowledge the able	assistance given him in
   

   preparing the above notes by Mr. E. M. Holmes, F.L.S., and Mr. S. Jamieson, M.P.S. (Messrs. Parke, Davis and Co.) Readers acquiring further information on the subject are referred to the British Pharmaceutical Codex (1907) and Squire's "Companion to the British Pharmacopoeia," recently published. {254}

   			   REFERENCES
   

   Marshall, London "Lancet," 1897, i. p. 235. Dixon, "British Medical Journal," 1899, ii p. 136. Fraenkel, "Arch. f. exp. Path. u. Pharm." xlix, p. 266. Cushny, "Textbook of Pharmacology," 1906, p. 232. Houghton and Hamilton, "Am. Jour. Pharm.," January 1908. "Transactions Chem. Society," 1896, "69", 539. "Proceedings Chem. Soc." 1898, "14", 44, Feb. 17; "Ibid." 1898, p. 184. Squires, "Companion to British Pharmacopoeia," 1908. Martindale's "Extra Pharmacopeia," 1908. Hooper's "Medical Dictionary."
   "Chemist and Druggist."
   E. WHINERAY, M.P.S., ETC.

   {WEH note: presentation continues in no. 2}

   {255}

   						  "SPECIAL SUPPLEMENT"
   

   			   JOHN	ST. JOHN
   

   	       THE RECORD OF THE MAGICAL RETIREMENT OF
   

   G. H. FRATER, O.'. M.'.

   {1 --- WEH note: The supplement has its own pagination.}

   {Illustration: BW halftone: In a black border, this is a photograph of a person, presumably Crowley, in a violet (assumed from text) robe. The figure is shown in right profile, inclined forward to the right about thirty degrees off the vertical. The feet are bare and visible, with left foot flat and toes pointed directly right, as is the orientation of the figure. The right foot is also bare, but pointed at right angles to the body and directly forward, as a support at the extreme left of the figure. Only the ball of the right foot meets the floor. The left hand and arm are not visible. The right hand and arm to mid forearm are extended directly horizontal at shoulder height and pointing forward to the right. The right forefinger is extended, and a simple cylindrical stick of a thickness of the finger is gripped in such fashion that one end of the stick (wand) emerges directly at and beneath the extended forefinger. There may be a design on the finger end of this wand, but that cannot be clearly distinguished. The wand angles down slightly under the right hand and terminates about a foot from its beginning in direct contact with the under-forearm. The wand is gripped by all but the forefinger of the right hand. No ring is worn. The Head is completely covered by a crumpled and tailed hood, apparently of a material like silk or satin. Draped over the back and about the neck of the figure is an untrimmed leopard skin. The tail and limbs hang to the floor in back, and are taken about the neck at top, with one bit visible behind the figure at the front at about the height of the diaphragm. Although not captioned in situ, the illustration is identified as "Blind Force" in the list of illustrations. Some nameless wag is reported to have uttered the following characterization during a lecture, when confronted by a slide of this illustration: "And this is a shot of Crowley with a dead cat around his neck".}

   {2}

   			    PREFACE
   

   NOBODY is better aware than myself that this account of my Retirement labours under most serious disadvantages.

        The scene should have been	laid in	an inaccessible	lamaserai in Tibet,
   

   perched on stupendous crags; and my familiarity with Central Asia would have enabled me to do it quite nicely.
   

        One should	really have had	an attendant Sylph; and	one's Guru, a man
   

   of incredible age and ferocity, should have frequently appeared at the dramatic moment.
   

        A gigantic	magician on a coal-black steed would have added	to the
   

   effect: strange voices, uttering formidable things, should have issued from unfathomable caverns. A mountain shaped like a Svastika with a Pillar of Flame would have been rather taking; herds of impossible yaks, ghost-dogs, gryphons. ...
   

        But my good, friends, this	is not the way things happen.  Paris is	as
   

   wonderful as Lhassa, and there are just as many miracles in London as in Luang Prabang.
   

        I did not even think it necessary to go into the Bois de Boulogne and
   

   meet those Three Adepts who cause bleeding at the nose, familiar to us from the writings of Macgregor Mathers. {3}
   

        The Universe of Magic is in the mind of a man: the	setting	is but
   

   Illusion even to the thinker.
   

        Humanity is progressing; formerly men dwelt habitually in the exterior
   

   world; nothing less than giants and Paynim and men-at-arms and distressed ladies, vampires and succubi, could amuse them. Their magicians brought demons from the smoke of blood, and made gold from baser metals.

        In	this they succeeded; the intelligent perceived that the	gold and
   

   the lead were but shadows of thought. It became probable that the elements were but isomers of one element; matter was seen to be but a modification of mind, or (at least) that the two things matter and mind must be joined before either could be perceived. All knowledge comes through the senses, on the one hand; on the other, it is only through the senses that knowledge comes.
   

        We	then continue our conquest of matter; and we are getting pretty
   

   expert. It took much longer to perfect the telescope than the motor-car. And though, of course, there are limitations, we know enough to be able to predict them.
   

        We	know in	what progression the Power to Speed coefficient	of a
   

   steamboat rises --- and so on.
   

        But in our	conquest of Nature, which we are making	principally by the
   

   use of the rational intelligence of the mind, we have become aware of that world itself, so much so that educated men spend nine-tenths of their waking lives in that world, only descending to feed and dress and so on at the imperative summons of their physical constitution.

        Now to us who thus	live the world of mind seems almost as savage and
   

   unexplored as the world of Nature seemed to the Greeks. {4}

        There are countless worlds	of wonder unpath'd and uncomprehended ---
   

   and even unguessed, we doubt not.
   

        Therefore we set out diligently to	explore	and map	these
   

   		      untrodden	regions	of the mind.
   

   Surely our adventures may be as exciting as those of Cortes or Cook!

        It	is for this reason that	I invite with confidence the attention of
   

   humanity to this record of my journey.
   

        But another set of	people will find another disappointment.  I am
   

   hardly an heroic figure. I am not The Good Young Man That Died. I do not remain in holy meditation, balanced on my left eyelash, for forty years, restoring exhausted nature by a single grain of rice at intervals of several months.
   

        You will perceive in these	pages a	man with all his imperfections
   

   thick upon him trying blindly, yet with all his force, to control the thoughts of his mind, so that he shall be able to say "I will think this thought and not that thought" at any moment, as easily as (having conquered Nature) we are all able to say "I will drink this wine, and not that wine."

        For, as we	have now learnt, our happiness does not	at all depend upon
   

   our possessions or our power. We would all rather be dead than be a millionaire who lives in daily dread of murder or blackmail.

        Our happiness depends upon	our state of mind.  It is the mastery of
   

   these things that the Magicians of to-day have set out to obtain for humanity; they will not turn back, or turn aside. {5}

        It	is with	the object of giving the reins into the	hands of others
   

   that I have written this record, not without pain.

        Others, reading it, will see the sort of way one sets to work; they
   

   will imitate and improve upon it; they will attain to the Magistry; they will prepare the Red Tincture and the Elixir of Life -- for they will discover what Life means.

   {6}

   			     PROLOGUE
   

   IT hath appeared unto me fitting to make a careful and even an elaborate record of this Great Magical Retirement, for that in the first place I am now certain of obtaining some Result therefrom, as I was never previously certain.
   

        Previous records of mine have therefore seemed vague and obscure, even
   

   unto the wisest of the scribes; and I am myself afraid that even here all my skill of speech and study may avail me little, so that the most important part of the record will be blank.

        Now I cannot tell whether it is a part of my personal Kamma, or
   

   whether the Influence of the Equinox of Autumn should be the exciting cause; but it has usually been at this part of the year that my best Results have occurred. It may be that the physical health induced by the summer in me, who dislike damp and chill, may being forth as it were a flower the particular kind of Energy --- Sammavyamo --- which gives alike the desire to perform more definitely and exclusively the Great Work, and the capacity to achieve success.
   

        It	is in any case remarkable that I was born in October (18-);
   

   suffered the terrible mystic trance which turned me toward the Path in October (18-); applied for admission to G.'. D.'. in October (18-); opened my temple at B---e in {7} October (18-); received the mysteries of L.I.L. in October (19-); and obtained the grade of 6x = 5x; obtained the first true mystic results in October (19-); first landed in Egypt in October (19-); landed again in Egypt in October (19-); first parted from ... in October (19-); wrote the B.-i-M. in October (19-), and obtained the grade of 7x = 4x; received the great Initiation in October 19-; and, continuing, received ........ in October 19-.

        So	then in	the last days of September 19- do I begin to collect and
   

   direct my thoughts; gently, subtly, persistently turning them one and all to the question of retreat and communion with that which I have agreed to call the Holy Guardian Angel, whose Knowledge and Conversation I have willed, and in greater or less measure enjoyed, since Ten Years.

        Terrible have been	the ordeals of the Path; I have	lost all that I
   

   possessed, and all that I love, even as at the Beginning I offered All for Nothing, unwitting as I was of the meaning of those words. I have suffered many and grievous things at the hands of the elements, and of the planets; hunger, thirst, fatigue, disease, anxiety, bereavement, all those woes and others have laid heavy hand upon me, and behold! as I look back upon these years, I declare that all hath been very well. For so great is the Reward which I (unworthy) have attained that the Ordeals seem but incidents hardly worthy to mention, save in so far as they are the Levers by which I moved the World. Even those dreadful periods of "dryness" and of despair seem but the necessary lying fallow of the Earth. All those "false paths" of Magic and Meditation and of Reason were not false paths, but steps upon the {8} true Path; even a a tree must shoot downwards its roots into the Earth in order that it may flower, and bring forth fruit in its season.

        So	also now I know	that even in my	months of absorption in	worldly
   

   pleasure and business, I am not really there, but stand behind, preparing the Event.
   

        Imagine me, therefore, if you will, in Paris on the last day of
   

   September. How surprised was I --- though, had I thought, I should have remembered that it was so --- to find all my necessary magical apparatus to my hand! Months before, for quite other reasons, I had moved most of my portable property to Paris; now I go to Paris, not thinking of a Retirement, for I now know enough to trust my destiny to bring all things to pass without anxious forethought on my part --- and suddenly, therefore, here do I find myself --- and nothing is lacking.

        I determined therefore to begin steadily and quietly, allowing the
   

   Magical Will to come slowly forth, daily stronger, in contrast to my old plan, desperation kindling a store of fuel dried by long neglect, despair inflaming a mad energy that would blaze with violence for a few hours and then go out --- and nothing done. "Not hurling, according to the oracle, a transcendent foot towards Piety."
   

        Quite slowly and simply therefore did I wash myself and robe myself as
   

   laid down in the Goetia, taking the Violet Robe of an Exempt Adept (being a single Garment), wearing the Ring of an Exempt Adept, and that Secret Ring which hath been entrusted to my keeping by the Masters. Also I took the Almond Wand of Abramelin and the Secret Tibetan Bell, made of Electrum Magicum with its striker of human {9} bone. I took also the magical knife, and the holy Anointing Oil of Abramelin the Mage.

        I began then quite	casually by performing the Lesser Banishing Ritual
   

   of the Pentagram, finding to my great joy and some surprise that the Pentagrams instantly formulated themselves, visible to the material eye as it were bars of shining blackness deeper than the night.

        I then consecrated	myself to the Operation; cutting the Tonsure upon
   

   my head, a circle, as it were to admit the light of infinity: and cutting the cross of blood upon my breast, thus symbolising the equilibration of and the slaying of the body, while loosing the blood, the first projection in matter of the universal Fluid.
   

        The whole formulating the Ankh ---	the Key	of Life!
        I gave moreover the signs of the grades from 0x = 0x to 7x
   

   4x.
   

        Then did I	take upon myself the Great Obligation as follows:
   	     I.	I, O.M.	&c., a member of the Body of God,
   

   hereby bind myself on behalf of the whole Universe, even as we are now physically bound unto the cross of suffering:
   

   	    II.	that I will lead a pure	life, as a devoted servant
   

   of the Order:
   III. that I will understand all things:

   	    IV.	that I will love all things:
   	     V.	that I will perform all	things and endure all
   

   things:
   

   	    VI.	that I will continue in	the Knowledge and
   

   Conversation of My Holy Guardian Angel: VII. that I will work without attachment: {10} VIII. that I will work in truth:
   

   	    IX.	that I will rely only upon myself:
   	     X.	that I will interpret every phenomenon as a
   

   particular dealing of God with my soul.

        And if I fail herein, may my pyramid be profaned, and the Eye be
   

   closed upon me!

        All this did I swear and seal with	a stroke upon the Bell.
        Then I steadily sat down in my Asana (or sacred Posture), having my
   

   left heel beneath my body pressing into the anus, my right sole closely covering the phallus, the right leg vertical; my head, neck, and spine in one straight vertical line; my arms stretched out resting on their respective knees; my thumbs joined each to the fourth finger of the proper hand. All my muscles were tightly held; my breath came steady, slow and even through both nostrils; my eyes were turned back, in, up to the Third Eye; my tongue was rolled back in my mouth; and my thoughts, radiating from that Third Eye, I strove to shut in unto an ever narrowing sphere by concentrating my will upon the Knowledge and Conversation of the Holy Guardian Angel.
   

        Then I struck Twelve times	upon the Bell; with the	new month the
   

   Operation was duly begun.

   Oct. I. "The First Day"
   At Eight o'clock I rose from sleep and putting on my Robe, began a little to meditate. For several reasons --- the journey and business of the day before, etc., etc., I did not feel fresh. But forcing myself a little I rose {11} and went out to the Caf du Dme where I took coffee and a biroche, after buying an exercise book in which to write this record. This was about 8.45; and now (10.10) I have written thus far. [Including the Prologue, but not the Preface. --- ED.]

   10.45. I have driven over to the Hammam through the beautiful sunshine, meditating upon the discipline of the Operation. It seems only necessary to cut off definitely dispersive things, aimless chatter and such; for the Operation itself will guide one, leading to disgust for too much food and so on. It there by upon my limbs any chain that requires a definite effort to break it, perhaps sleep is that chain. But we shall see --- "solvitur" "ambulando." If any asceticism be desirable later on, true wariness will soon detect any danger, and devise a means to meet it and overcome it.

   12.0. Have finished bath and massage, during which I continued steadily but quite gently, "not by a strain laborious and hurtful but with stability void of movement," willing the Presence of Adonai.

   12.5. I ordered a dozen oysters and a beefsteak, and now (12.10) find myself wishing for an apple chewed and swallowed by deglutition, as the Hatha Yogis do. The distaste for food has already begun.

   12.12. Impressions already "failing to connect." I was getting into Asana and thinking "I record this fact," when I saw a jockey being weighed. {12}

   12.12. I thought of recording "my own" weight which I had not taken. Good!
   12.13. Pranayama [10 seconds to breath in, 20 seconds to 12.24. breathe out, 30 seconds to hold in the breath.] Fairly good; made me sweat again thoroughly. Stopped not from fatigue but from lunch.
   [Odd memoranda during lunch.
   Insist on pupils writing down their whole day; the play as well as the work. "By this means they will become ashamed, and prate no longer of 'beasts.'"]
   I am now well away on the ascetic current, devising all sorts of privations and thoroughly enjoying the idea.

   12.55. Having finished a most enjoyable lunch, will drink coffee and smoke, and try and get a little sleep. Thus to break up sleep into two shifts.

   2.18. A nice sleep. Woke refreshed.

   3.15. Am arrived home, having performed a little business and driven back.
   Will sit down and do Asana, etc.

   3.20. Have started.

   3.28. 7 Pranayama cycles enough. Doubtless the big lunch is a nuisance.
   I continue meditating simply.

   3.36. Asana hurts badly, and I can no longer concentrate at all. Must take 5 minutes' rest and then persevere. {13}

   3.41. Began again. I shall take "Hua allalu alazi lailaha illa hua" for mantra [any sacred sentence, whose constant repetition produces many strange effects upon the mind. --- ED.] if I want one, or: may Adonai reveal unto me a special mantra to invoke Him!

   3.51. Broke down again, mantra and all.

   3.52- Went on meditating in "Hanged Man posture" [Legs 4.14. crossed, arms below head, like the figure of the Hanged Man in the Tarot Cards. --- ED.] to formulate sacrifice and pain selfinflicted; for I feel such a worm, able only to remain a few minutes at a time in a position long since "conquered." For this reason too I cut again the Cross of Blood; and now a third time will I do it. And I will take out the Magical Knife and sharpen it yet more, so that this body may fear me; for that I am Horus the terrible, the Avenger, the Lord of the Gate of the West.

   4.15- Read Ritual DCLXXI. [The nature of this Ritual is 4.30. explained later. --- ED.]

   5.10. I have returned from my shopping. Strange how solemn and dignified so trivial a thing becomes, once one has begun to concentrate!
   I bought two pears, half a pound of Garibaldi biscuits, and a packet of Gaufrettes. I had a citron press, too, at the Dme. At the risk of violating the precepts of Zoroaster 170 and 144 I propose to do a Tarot divination for this Operation. {14}

   5.10. I should explain first that I write this record for other eyes than mine, since I am now sufficiently sure of myself to attain something or other; but I cannot foretell exactly what form the attainment may take. Just so, if one goes to call upon a friend, he may be walking or riding or sleeping. Thus, then, is Adonai hidden from me. I know where He lives; I know I shall be welcome if I call; but I do not know whether He will invite me to a banquet or ask me to go out with him for a long journey.
   It may be that the Rota will give me some hint. [We have omitted the details of this divination. --- ED.] I am never content with such divinations; trustworthy enough in material concerns, in the things of the Spirit one rarely obtains good results.
   The first operation was rather meaningless; but one must allow ("a") that it was a new way of dealing those cards for the opening of an operation; ("b") that I had had two false starts. The final operation is certainly most favourable; we shall see if it comes true. I can hardly believe it possible.

   6.10. Will now go for a stroll, get some milk, and settle down for the evening.

   10.50. I regret to have to announce that on going across to the Dme with this laudable intention, Nina brought up that red-headed bundle of mischief, Maryt Waska. This being in a way a "bandobast" (and so inviolable), I took her to dinner, eating an omelette, and {15} some bread and Camembert, and a little milk. Afterwards a cup of coffee, and then two hours of the Vajroli Mudra badly performed.
   All this I did with reluctance, I did with reluctance, as an act of self-denial or asceticism, lest my desire to concentrate on the mystic path should run away with me. Therefore I think it may fairly be counted unto me for righteousness.
   I now drink a final coffee and retire, to do I hope a more straightforward type of meditation.
   So mote it be.
   Naked, Maryt looks like Corregio's Antiope. Her eyes are a strange grey, and her hair a very wonderful reddish gold --- a colour I have never seen before and cannot properly describe. She has Jewish blood in her, I fancy; this, and her method of illustrating the axiom "Post coitum animal triste" made me think of Baudelaire's "Une nuit que j'etais prs d'une affreuse Juive": and the last line
   

   		   Obscurcir la	splendeur des tres froides prunelles.
   

   and Barbey d'Aurevilly's "Rideau Cramoisi" suggested to me the following poem. [We omit this poem. --- ED.] 11.30. Done! i' th' rough! i' th' rought! Now let me go back to my room, and Work!

   (11.47.) Home --- undressed --- robed --- attended to toilet -- cut cross of Blood once more to affirm mastery of Body --- sat down at 11.49 and ended the day with 10 Pranayamas, which caused me to perspire freely, but were not altogether easy or satisfactory. {16}

   			      "The Second Day"
   

   The Stroke of Twelve found me duly in my Asana, practising Pranayama.
   Let me continue this work; for it is written that unto the persevering mortal the Blessed Immortals are swift ... What they should happen to a persevering Immortal like myself?

   12.7. Trying meditation and mantra.

   12.18. I find thoughts impossible to concentrate; and my Asana, despite various cowardly attempts to "fudge" it, is frightfully painful.

   12.20. In the Hanged Man posture, meditating and willing the Presence of Adonai by the Ritual "Thee I invoke, the Bornless One" and mental formulae.

   12.28. I'm hopelessly sleepy! Invocation as bad as bad could be --- attention all over the place. Irrational hallucinations, such as a vision of either Eliphaz Levi or my father (I can't swear which!) at the most solemn moment!
   But the irrational character of said visions is not bad. They come from nowhere; it is much worse when your own controlled brain breaks loose.

   12.33. I will therefore compose myself to sleep: is it not written that He giveth unto His beloved even in sleep? "Others, even in sleep, He makes fruitful from His own strength." {17}

   7.29. Woke and forced myself to rise. I had a number of rather pleasing dreams, as I seem to remember. But their content is gone from me; and, in the absence of the prophet Daniel, I shall let the matter slide.

   7.44. Pranayama. 13 cycles. Very tiring; I began to sweat. A mediocre performance.

   8.0- Breakfast. Hatha Yogi --- a pear and two gaufrettes. 8.20

   8.53. Have been meditating in Hanged Man position. Thought dull and wandering; yet once "the conception of the Glowing Fire" seen as a planet (perhaps Mars). Just enough to destroy the concentration; then it went out, dammit!

   10.40. Have attended to correspondence and other business and drunk a citron press.
   The Voice of the Nadi began to resound.

   10.50. Have done "Bornless One" in Asana. Good; yet I am filled with utter despair at the hopelessness of the Task. Especially do I get the Buddhist feeling, not only that Asana is intensely painful, but that all conceivable positions of the body are so.

   11.0. Still sitting; quite sceptical; sticking to it just because I am a man, and have decided to go through with it.

   11.13. Have done 10 P.Y. cycles. A bit better,and a slight hint of the Bhuchari Siddhi foreshadowed. Have been saying mantra; the question arises in my mind: {18}
   11.13. Am I mixing my drinks unduly? I think not; if one didn't change to another mystic process, one would have to read the newspaper.

   11.20. This completes my half-hour of Asana. Legs very painful; yet again I find myself wishing for Kandy (not sugar candy, but the place where I did my first Hindu practices and got my first Results) and a life devoted entirely to meditation. But not for me! I'm no Pratyeka-Buddha; a Dhamma-Buddha every inch of me! [A Pratyeka-Buddha attains the Supreme Reward for himself alone; a Dhamma-Buddha renounces it and returns to hell (earth) to teach others the Way. --- ED.]
   I now take a few minutes "off" to make "considerations." I firmly believe that the minutest dose of the Elixir would operate as a "detonator." I seem to be perfectly ready for illumination, if only because I am so perfectly dark. Yet my power to create magical images is still with me.

   11.40- Hanged Man posture. Will invoke Adonai once more 12.0. by pure thought. Got into a very curious state indeed; part of me being quite perfectly asleep, and part quite perfectly awake. 2.10. Have slept, and that soundly, though with many dreams. Awaking with the utmost horror and loathing of the Path of the Wise --- it seemed somehow like a vast dragon-demon with bronze green wings iridescent that rose up startled and angry. And I saw that {19}
   2.10. the littlest courage is enough to rise and throw off sleep, like a small soldier in complete armour of silver advancing with sword and shield --- at whose sight that dragon, not daring to abide the shock, flees utterly away.
   2.15. Lunch, 3 Garibaldis and 3 Gaufrettes. Wrote two letters. 2.50. Going out walk with mantra.
   8.3. This walk was in a way rather a success. I got the good mantra effects, "e.g.," the brain taking it up of its own accord; also the distaste for everything but Adonai became stronger and stronger. But when I returned from a visit to B---e on an errand of comradeship --- 1 1/2 hours' talk to cut out of this mantra-yoga --- I found all sorts of people at the Dme, where I drank a citron press: they detained me in talk, and at 6.30 Maryt turned up and I had to chew a sandwich and drink coffee while she dined. I feel a little headache; it will pass. She is up here now with me, but I shall try to meditate. Charming as she is, I don't want to make love to her. 8.40. Mixed mantra and caresses rather a success. (At her request I gave M. a minimum dose of X.)
   9.15. Asana and Meditation with mantra since 8.40. The blackness seems breaking. For a moment I got a vague glimpse of one's spine (or rather one's Sushumna) as a galaxy of stars, thus suggesting the stars as the ganglia of the Universe. 9.18 To continue.
   10.18. Not very satisfactory. Asana got painful; like a {20} worm I gave up, and tried playing the fool; got amused by the New Monster, but did not perform the "Vajroli Mudra." [For this see the Shiva Sanhita, and other of the Holy Sanskrit Tantras. --- ED.]
   However, having got rid of her for the moment, one may continue. 10.24- P.Y. [Prana Yama. --- ED.] 14 cycles. Some effort required; 10.39. sweating appears to have stopped and Bhuchari hardly begun. My head really aches a good deal.
   I must add one or two remarks. In my walk I discovered that my mantra Hua allahu, etc., really belongs to the Visuddhi Cakkrm; so I allowed the thought to concentrate itself there. [The Visuddhi-Cakkrm: the "nerve centre," in Hindu mystic physiology, opposite the larynx. --- ED.]
   Also, since others are to read this, one must mention that almost from the beginning of this Working of Magick Art the changed aspect of the world whose culmination is the keeping of the oath "I will interpret every phenomenon as a particular dealing of God with my soul" was present with me. This aspect is difficult to describe; one is indifferent to everything and yet interested in it. The meaning of things is lost, pending the inception of their Spiritual Meaning; just as, on putting one's eye to the microscope, the drop of water on the slide is gone, and a world of life discovered, though the real import of that world is not apprehended, until one's knowledge becomes far greater than a single glance can make it. {21}

   10.55. Having written the above, I shall rest for a few moments to try and get rid of my headache.
   A good simile (by the way) for the Yogi is to say that he watches his thought like a cat watching a mouse. The paw ready to strike the instant Mr. Mouse stir.
   I have chewed a Gaufrette and drunk a little water, in case the headache is from hunger. (P.S. --- It was so; the food cured it at once.)

   11.2. I now lie down as Hanged Man and say mantra in Visuddhi.

   11.10. I must really note the curious confusion in my mind between the Visuddhi Cakkrm and that part of the Boulevard Edgar Quinet which opens on to the cemetery. It seems an identity. In trying to look "at" the Cakkrm, I saw that. Query: What is the connection, which appeared absolute and essential? I had been specially impressed by that gate two days ago, with its knot of mourners. Could the scene have been recorded in a brain-cell adjoining that which records the Visuddhi-idea? Or did I at that time unconsciously think of my throat for some other reason? Bother! These things are all dogfaced demons! To work!

   11.17. Work: Meditation an Mantra.

   11.35. No good. Went off into a reverie about a castle and men-at-arms. This had all the qualities of a true dream, yet I was not in any other sense asleep. I soon will be, though. It seems foolish to persist. {22}

   11.35. And indeed, though I tried to continue the mantra with its high aspiration to know Adonai, I must have slept almost at once.

   				 "The Third Day"
   

   6.55. Now the day being gloriously broken, I awoke with some weariness, not feeling clean and happy, not burning with love unto my Lord Adonai, though ashamed indeed for that thrice of four times in the night I had been awakened by this loyal body, urging me to rise and meditate --- and my weak will bade it be at ease and take its rest --- oh, wretched man! slave of the hour and of the worm!
   7.0- Fifteen cycles of Prana Yama put me right mentally 7.16. and physically: otherwise they had little apparent success.

   7.30. Have breakfasted --- a pear and two Garibaldis. (These by the way are the small size, half the big squares.)

   7.50. Have smoked a pipe to show that I'm not in a hurry.

   8.5. Hanged Man with mantra in Visuddhi. Thought I had been much longer. At one point the Spirit began to move --- how the devil else can I express it? The consciousness seemed to flow, instead of pattering. Is "that" clear?
   One should here note that there may perhaps be some essential difference in the operation of the Moslem and Hindu mantrams. The latter boom; the former ripple. I have never tried the former at all seriously until now. {23}

   8.10- "Mme jeu" --- no good at all. Think I'll get up and have 8.32. a Turker.

   9.0. Am up, having read my letters. Continuing mantra all the time in a more or less conscious way.

   9.25. Wrote my letters and started out.

   10.38. Have reached the Caf de la Paix, walking slowly with my mantra. I am beginning to forget it occasionally, mispronouncing some of the words. A good sign! Now and then I tried sending it up and down my spine, with good effect.

   10.40. I will drink a cup of coffee and then proceed to the Hammam. This may ease my limbs, and afford an opportunity for a real gofor -the-gloves effort to concentrate.
   It cannot be too clearly understood that nearly all the work hitherto has been preliminary; the intention is to get the Chittam (thought-stuff) flowing evenly in one direction. Also one practises detaching it from the Virttis (impressions). One looks at everything without seeing it. O coffee! By the mighty Name of Power do I invoke thee, consecrating thee to the Service of the Magic of Light. Let the pulsations of my heart be strong and regular and slow! Let my brain be wakeful and active in its supreme task of self-control! That my desired end may be effected through Thy strength, Adonai, unto Whom be the Glory for ever! Amen without lie, and Amen, and Amen of Amen.

   11.0. I now proceed to the Hammam. {24}

   12.0. The Bath is over. I continued the mantra throughout, which much alleviated the torture of massage. But I could not get steady and easy in my Asana or even in the Hanged Man or Shavasana, the "corpse-position." I think the heat is exciting, and makes me restless. I continue in the cooling-room lying down.

   12.10. I have ordered 12 oysters and coffee and bread and butter. O oysters! be ye unto me strength that I formulate the 12 rays of the Crown of HVA! I conjure ye, and very potently command. Even by Him who ruleth Life from the Throne of Tahuti unto the Abyss of Amennti, even by Ptah the swathed one, that unwrappeth the mortal from the immortal, even by Amoun the giver of Life, and by Khem the mighty, whose Phallus is like the Pillar in Karnak! Even by myself and my male power do I conjure ye. Amen.

   12.20 I was getting sleepy when the oysters came. I now eat them in a Yogin and ceremonial manner.

   12.45. I have eaten my oysters, chewing them every one; also some bread and butter in the same manner, giving praise to Priapus the Lord of the oyster, to Demeter the Lady of corn, and to Isis the Queen of the Cow. Further, I pray symbolically in this meal for Virtue, and Strength, and Gladness; as is appropriate to these symbols. But I find it very difficult to keep the mantra going, even in tune with the jaws; perhaps it is that this peculiar method of eating (25 minutes {25} for what could be done normally in 3) demands the whole attention.

   1.30. Drifted into a nap. Well! we shall try what Brother Body really wants.

   1.35. My attempt to go to sleep has made me supernaturally wakeful. I am --- as often before --- in the state described by Paul (not my masseur; the other Paul!) in his Epistle to the Romans, cap. vii. v. 19.
   I shall rise and go forth.

   1.55. I have a good mind to try violent excitement of the Muladhara Cakkrm; for the whole Sushumna seems dead. This at the risk of being labelled a Black Magician --- by clergymen, Christian Scientists, and the "self-reliant" classes in general.

   2.15. Arrived (partly by cab) at the Place. Certain curious phenomena which I have noticed at odd times --- "e.g.", on Thursday night --- but did not think proper to record must be investigated. It seems quite certain that meditation-practices profoundly affect the sexual process: how and why I do not yet certainly know.

   2.45. Rubbish! everything perfectly normal. Difficult, though, to keep mantram going.

   3.0. Am sitting on the brink of the big fountain in the Luxembourg. This deadness of the whole system continues. To explain. Normally, if the thought be energetically directed to almost any point in the body, that point is {26} felt to pulse and even to ache. Especially this is the case if one vibrates a mantra or Magical name in a nerve-centre. At present I cannot do this at all. The Prana seems equilibrated in the whole organism: I am very peaceful --- just as a corpse is. It is terribly annoying, in a sense, because this condition is just the opposite of Dharana; yet one knows that it is a stage on the way to Samadhi.
   So I rise and give confidently the Sign of Apophis and Typhon, and will then regard the reflection of the sweet October Sun in the kissing waters of the fountain. (P.S. --- I now remember that I forgot to rise and give the Sign.)

   3.15. In vain do I regard the Sun, broken up by the lips of the water into countless glittering stars --- abounding, revolving, whirling forth, crying aloud --- for He whom my soul seeketh is not in these. Nor is He in the fountain, eternally as it jets and falls in brilliance of dew; for I desire the Dew Supernal. Nor is He in the still depths of the water; their lips do not meet His. Nor --- O my soul! --- is He anywhere to be found in thy secret caverns, unluminous, formless, and void, where I wander seeking Him --- or seeking rest from that Search! O my soul! --- lift thyself up; play the man, be strong; harden thyself against thy bitter Fate; for at the End thou shalt find Him; and ye shall enter in together into the Secret Palace of the King; even unto the Garden of Lilies; and ye shall be One for evermore. So mote it be! {27}
   Yet now --- ah now! --- I am but a dead man. Within me and without still stirs that life of sense that is not life, but is as the worms that feast upon my corpse. ... Adonai! Adonai! my Lord Adonai! indeed, Thou hast forsaken me. Nay! thou liest, O weak soul! Abide in the meditation; unite all thy symbols into the form of a Lion, and be lord of thy jungle, travelling through the servile Universe even as Mau the Lion very lordly, the Sun in His strength that travelleth over the heaven of Nu in His bark in the mid-career of Day.
   For all these thoughts are vain; there is but One thought, though that thought be not yet born --- He only is God, and there is none other God than He!

   3.30. Walking home with mantra; suddenly a spasm of weeping took me as I cried through the mantra --- "My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me?" --- and I have to stop and put it down! A good thing; for it calms me.

   3.45. At the Dme, master of myself. The Mantra goes just 30 times a minute, 1800 times an hour, 43,200 times a day. To say it a million times would take longer than Mrs. Glyn's heroine did to conceive. Yet I will get the result if I have to say it a hundred and eleven million times. But oh! fertilise my Akasic egg today!
   This remark, one should notice, is truly characteristic of the man John St. John. I see how funny it is; but I'm quite serious withal. Ye dull dogs! {28}
   [The "Akasic Egg" is the sphere of the personality of man. A theosophic term. --- ED.]

   3.55. N.B. --- Mantras might with advantage be palindromes.

   3.56. I try to construct a magic square from the mantra. No good. But the mantra is going much better, quite mechanically and "without attachment" ("i.e.", without conscious ulterior design. "Art for Art's sake" as it were).

   4.10. I drink a "citron press."

   4.25. Alas! here comes Maryt (with a sad tale of X. It appears that she fainted and spent some hours at the hospital. I should have insisted on her stying with me; the symptoms began immediately on her drinking some coffee. I have noticed with myself, that eating has started the action).

   5.30. An hour of mingled nap and mantra. I now feel alive again. It was very strange how calm and balanced I was: yet now I am again energised; may it be to the point of Enthusiasm!
   People will most assuredly smile at this exalted mystic; his life seems made up of sleep and love-making. Indeed, to-day I have been shockingly under the power of Tamas, the dark sphere. But that is clearly a fatigue-effect from having worked so hard. Oh Lord, how long?

   5.50. The Mantra still ripples on. I am so far from the Path that I have a real good mind to get Maryt to let me perform the Black Mass on her at midnight. I would {29} just love to bring up Typhon, and curse Osiris and burn his bones and his blood!
   At least, I now solemnly express a pious wish that the Crocodile of the West may eat up the Sun once and for all, that Set may defile the Holy Place, that the supreme Blasphemy may be spoken by Python in the ears of Isis.
   I want trouble. I want to say Indra's mantram till his throne gets red-hot and burns his lotus-buttocks; I want to pinch little Harpocrates till he fairly yells ... and I will too! Somehow!

   6.15. I have now got into a sort of smug content, grinning all over like some sleepy Chinese god. No reason for it, Lord knows! I can't make up my mind whether to starve or sandwich or gorge the beast St. John. He's not the least bit hungry, though he's had nothing to call a Meal since Thursday lunch. The Hatha-Yoga feeding game is certainly marvellous. I should like to work marching and breathing with this mantra as I did of old with Aum Tat Sat Aum. Perhaps two steps to a mantra, and 4-8-16 steps to a breath-cycle? This would mean 28 seconds for a breath-cycle; quite enough for a marching man. We might try 4-8-8 to start; or even 8-8-8 (for the Chariot, wherein the Geburah of me rises to Binah --- Strength winning the Wings of Understanding). [These symbols, allusions, and references will all be found in 777, just published by "The Equinox" --- see advt. --- ED.] {30}

   6.55. I shall now ceremonially defile the Beyt Allah with Pig, to express in some small measure my utter disgust and indignation with Allah for not doing His job properly. I say in vain "Labbaik!" [I am here. --- ED.] He answers, "But I'm "not" here, old boy --- another leg-pull!" He little knows His man, though, if He thinks He can insult me with impunity. Andr, un sandwich! [Beyt Allah, the Mosque at Mecca, means "House of God" --- ED.]

   7.5. I shall stop mantra while I eat, so as to concentrate ("a") on the chewing, ("b") on defiling the House of God. Not so easy! the damned thing runs on like a prairie fire. Important then to stop it absolutely at will: even the Work itself may become an obsession.
   11 hours with no real break --- no bad. The bad part of to-day seems the Asana, and the deadness. Or, perhaps worse, I fail to apprehend the true magical purport of my work: hence all sort of aimless formulae, leading --- naturally enough --- to no result.
   It just strikes me --- it may be this Isis Apophis Osiris IAO formula that I have preached so often. Certainly the first two days were Isis --- natural, pleasant, easy events. Most certainly too to-day has been Apophis! Think of the wild cursing and black magic, etc. ... we must hope for the Osiris section to-morrow or next day. Birth, death, resurrection! IAO!

   7.35. The Sandwich duly chewed, and two Coffees drunk, I resume the mystic Mantra. Why? Because I dam well choose to. {31}

   7.50. 'Tis a rash thing to say, and I burn incense to the Infernal Gods that the Omen may be averted; but I seem to have conquered the real Dweller of the Threshold once and for all. For nowadays my blackest despair is tempered by the certainty of coming through it sooner or later, and that with flying colours.

   9.30. The last 3/4 hour I wasted talking to Dr. R---, that most interesting man. I don't mean talking; I mean listening. You are a bad, idle good-for-nothing fellow, O.M.! Why not stick to that mantra?

   10.40. Have drunk two citrons presss and gone to my room to work a mighty spell of magick Art.

   11.0. Having got rid of Maryt (who, by the way, is Quite mad), and thereby (one might hope) of Apophis and Typhon, I perform the Great Ritual DCLXXI with good results magically; "i.e.", I formulated things very easily and forcibly; even at one time I got a hint of the Glory of Adonai. But I made the absurd mistake of going through the Ritual as if I was rehearsing it, instead of staying at the Reception of the Candidate and insisting upon being "really" received.
   I will therefore now (11.50) sit down again and invoke really hard on these same lines, while the Perfume and the Vision are yet formulated, though insensibly, about me. And thus shall end the Third day of my retirement.

   			      "The Fourth Day"
   

   12.15. So therefore begins the fourth day of this my great magical retirement; I bleed from the slashes of the {32} magick knife; I smart from the heat of the Holy Oil; I am bruised by the scourge of Osiris that hath so cruelly smitten me; the perfume yet fills the chamber of Art; --- and I? Oh Adonai my Lord, surely I did invoke Thee with fervour; yet Thou camest not utterly to the tryst. And yet I know that Thou wast there; and it may be that the morning may being rememberance of Thee which this consciousness does not now contain. But I swear by Thine own glory that I will not be satisfied with this, that I will go on even unto madness and death if it be Thy will --- but I will know Thee as Thou art. It is strange how my cries died down; how I found myself quite involuntarily swinging back to the old mantra that I worked all yesterday.
   However, I shall try a little longer in the Position of the Hanged Man, although sleep is again attacking me. I am weary, yet content, as if some great thing had indeed happened. But if I lost consciousness --- a thing no man can be positive about from the nature of things --- it must have happened so quietly that I never knew. Certainly I should not have thought that I had gone on for 25 minutes, as I did. But I do indeed ask for a Knowledge and Conversation of the Holy Guardian Angel which is not left so much to be inferred from the good results in my life and work; I want the Perfume and the the Vision. ...
   Why am I so materially wallowing in grossness? It matters little; the fact remains that I do wallow. {33} I want that definite experience in the very same sense as Abramelin had it; and what's more, I mean to go on till I get it.

   12.34. I begin, therefore, in Hanged Man posture, to invoke the Angel, within the Pyramid already duly prepared by DCLXXI.

   12.57. Alas! in vain have I tried even the supreme ritual of Awaiting the Beloved, although once I thought --- Ah! give unto Thy beloved in sleep!
   How ashamed I should be, though! For an earthly lover one would be on tiptoe of excitement, trembling at every sound, eager, afraid ...
   I will, however, rise and open (as for a symbol) the door and the window. Oh that the door of my heart were ever open! For He is always there, and always eager to come in.

   1.0. I rise and open unto my Beloved. ... May it be granted unto me in the daylight of this day to construct from DCLXXI a perfect ritual of self-initiation, so as to avoid the constant difficulty of assuming various God-forms. Then let that ritual be a constant and perfect link between Us ... so that at all times I may be perfect in Thy Knowledge and Conversation, O mine Holy Guardian Angel! to whom I have aspired these ten years past.

   1.5. And though as it may seem I now compose myself to sleep, I await Thee ... I await Thee!

   7.35. I arise from sleep, mine eyes a little weary, my soul fresh, my heart restored. {34}

   8.0. Accordingly, I continue in gentle and easy meditation on my Lord Adonai, without fear or violence, quite directly and naturally. One of the matters that came up last night with Dr. R---d was that of writing rubbish for magazines. He thought that one could do it in the intervals of serious work; but I do not think that one should take the risk. I have spent these many years training my mind to think cleanly and express beautifully. Am I to prostitute myself for a handful of bread? I swear by Thyself, O Thou who art myself, that I will not write save to glorify Thee, that I will write only in beauty and melody, that I will give unto the world as Thou givest unto me, whether it be a consuming fire, or a cup of the wine of Iacchus, or a glittering dagger, or a disk brighter than the sun. I will starve in the street before I pander to the vileness of the men among whom I live --- oh my Lord Adonai, be with me, give me the purest poesy, keep me to this vow! And if I turn aside, even for a moment, I pray Thee, warn me by some signal chastisement, that Thou art a jealous god, and that Thou wilt keep me veiled, cherished, guarded in Thine harem a pure and perfect spouse, like a slender fountain playing in Thy courts of marble and of malachite, of jasper, of topaz, and of lapis lazuli. And by my magick power I summon all the inhabitants of the ten thousand worlds to witness this mine oath. 8.15. I will rise, and break my fast. I think it as well to go on with the mantra, as it started of its own accord. {35}

   9.0. Arrived at Panthon, to breakfast on coffee and biroche and a peach.
   I shall try and describe Ritual DCLXXI; since its nature is important to this great ceremony of initiation. Those who understand a little about the Path of the Wise may receive some hint of the method of operation of the L.V.X. And I think that a description will help me to collect myself for the proper adaptation of this Ritual to the purpose of Selfinitiation.

   Oh, how soft is the air, and how serene the sky, to one who has passed through the black rule of Apophis! How infinitely musical are the voices of Nature, those that are heard and those that are not heard! What Understanding of the Universe, what Love is the prize of him that hath performed all things and endured all things!
   The first operation of Ritual DCLXXI is the preparation of the Place.
   There are two forces; that of Death and that of Natural Life. Death begins the Operation by a knock, to which Life answers. Then Death, banishing all forces external to the operation, declares the Speech in the Silence.
   Both officers go from their thrones and form the base of a triangle whose apex is the East. They invoke the Divine Word, and then Death slays with the knife, and embalms with the oil, his sister Life.
   Life, thus prepared, invokes, at the summons of Death, {36} the forces necessary to the Operation. The Word takes its station in the East and the officers salute it both by speech and silence in their signs; and they pronounce the secret Word of power that riseth from the Silence and returneth thereunto. All this they affirm; and in affirming the triangular base of the Pyramid, find that they have mysteriously affirmed the Apex thereof whose name is Ecstasy.
   This also is sealed by that secret word; for that Word containeth All.
   Into this prepared Pyramid of divine Light there cometh a certain darkling wight, who knoweth not either his own nature, or his origin or destiny, or even the name of that which he desireth. Before he can enter the Pyramid, therefore, four ordeals are required of him.
   So, bound and blinded, he stumbles forward, and passes through the wrath of the Four Great Princes of the Evil of the World, whose Terror is about him on every side. Yet since he has followed the voice of the Officer who has prepared him, in this part of the Ritual no longer merely Nature, the great Mother, but Neschamah (his aspiration) and the representative of Adonai, he may pass through all. Yea, in spite of the menace of the Hiereus, whose function is now that of his fear and of his courage, he goes on and enters the Pyramid. But there he is seized and thrown down by both officers as one unworthy to enter. His aspiration purifies him with steel and fire; and there as he lies shattered by the force of the ritual, he hears --- even as {37}
   a corpse that hears the voice of Israfel --- the Hegemon that chants a solemn hymn of praise to that glory which is at the Apex, and who invisibly rules and governs the whole Pyramid. Now then that darkling wight is lifted by the officers and brought to the altar in the centre; and there the Hiereus accuses him of the two and twenty Basenesses, while the Hegemon lifting up his chained arms cries again and again against his enemy that he is under the Shadow of the Eternal Wings of the Holy One. Yet at the end, at the supreme accusation, the Hiereus smites him into death. The same answer avails him, and in its strength he is uplifted by his aspiration --- and now he stands upright. Now then he makes a journey in his new house, and perceives at stated times, each time preceded by a new ordeal and equilibration, the forces that surround him. Death he sees, and the Life of Nature whose name is Sorrow, and the Word that quickeneth these, and his own self --- and when he hath recognised these four in their true nature he passes to the altar once more and as the apex of a descending triangle is admitted to the lordship of the Double Kingdom. Thus is he a member of the visible triad that is crossed with the invisible --- behold the hexagram of Solomon the King! All this the Hiereus seals with a knock and at the Hegemon's new summons he --- to his surprise --- finds himself as the Hanged Man of the Tarot. Each point of the figure thus formed they crown with light, until he glitters with the Flame of the Spirit. {38} Thus and not otherwise is he made a partaker of the Mysteries, and the Lightning Flash strikes him. The Lord hath descended from heaven with a shout and with the Voice of the Archangel, and the trump of God.
   He is installed in the Throne of the Double Kingdom, and he wields the Wand of Double Power by the sings of the grade. He is recognized an initiate, and the word of Secret Power, and the silent administration of the Sacrament of Sword and Flame, acknowledge him.
   Then, the words being duly spoken and the deeds duly done, all is symbolically sealed by the Thirty Voices, and the Word that vibrateth from the Silence to the Speech, and from the Speech again unto the Silence. Then the Pyramid is sealed up, even as it was opened; yet in the sealing thereof the three men partake in a certain mystical manner of the Eucharist of the Four Elements that are consumed for the Perfection of the Oil. Knox Om Pax. [With these mystic words the Mysteries Eleusinian were sealed. --- ED.]

   10.0. Having written out this explanation, I will read it through and meditate solemnly thereupon. All this I wrote in the Might of the Secret Ring committed unto me by the Masters; so that all might be absolutely correct.
   One thing strikes me as worthy of mention. Last night when I went into the restaurant to speak to {39} R---d, my distaste for food was so intense that the smell of it caused real nausea. To-day, I am perfectly balanced, neither hungry nor nauseated. This is indeed more important than it seems; it is a sure sign when one sees a person take up fads that he is under the black rule of Apophis. In the Kingdom of Osiris there is freedom and light. To-day I shall eat neither with the frank gluttony of Isis nor with the severe asceticism of Apophis. I shall eat as much and as little as I fancy; these violent means are no longer necessary. Like Count Fosco, I shall "go on my way sustained by my sublime confidence, self-balanced by my impenetrable calm."

   10.50. I have spent half an hour wandering in the Muse du Luxembourg. I now sit down to meditate on this new ritual. The following, so it appears, should be the outlines --- damn it, I've a good mind to write it straight off --- no! I'll be patient and tease the Spirit a little. I will be coquettish as a Spanish catamite.

   1. Death summons Life and clears away all other forces.
      
   2. The Invocation of the Word. Death consecrates Life, who in her whirling dance invokes that Word.
      
   3. They salute the Word. The Signs and M---M1 must be a Chorus, if anything.
   4. The Miraculous appearance of Iacchus, uninvoked. {40}

      10.50	       1. The 3	Questions.
      	       2. The 4	ordeals.  Warning and comfort as an
      		     appeal to the Officers.
      	       3. The Threshold.
      

      1 WEH Note: "M---M" refers to the secret Neophyte word of the A.'. A.'..
      The Chorus of Purification.
      The Hymn "My heart, my mother!" as already

      		     written, years ago.
      	       4. At the altar.	 The accusation	and defence as
      		     antiphonies.
      	       5. The journey.	Bar and	pass, and the 4	visions
      		     even as a mighty music.
      	       6. The Hanged Man --- the descent of Adonai.
      	       7. The installation --- signs, etc.
      

      Sealing as for opening; but insert Sacrament.

      1.15. During a lunch of 12 oysters, Cpes Bordelaise, Tarte aux Crises, Caf Noir, dispatched without Yoga or ceremonial, I wrote the Ritual in verse, in the Egyptian Language. I don't think very well. Time must show: also experience. I'd recite Tennyson if I thought it would give Samadhi! Now more mantra, though by the Lord I'm getting sick of it.

      1.40. It occurs to me, now that I am seeing my way in the Operation a little more clearly, that one might consider the First Day as Osiris Slain +, the Second as that of the Mourning of Isis , the third as that of the Triumph of Apophis V, and to-day that of Osiris Risen X; these four days being perfect in themselves as a 5x = 6x operation (or possibly with one or two more {41} to recapitulate L.V.X. Lux, the Light of the Cross). Thence one might proceed to some symbolic passage through the 6x = 5x grade --- though of course that grade is really symbolic of this soul-journey, not "vice vers" --- and through 7x = 4x; so perhaps --- if one could only dare to hope it! --- to the 8x = 3x attainment. Certainly what little I have done so far pertains no higher than Minor adeptship though I have used higher formulae in the course of my working.

      1.55. My Prana is acting in a feverish manner; a mixture of fatigue and energy. This is not good: it probably comes from bolting that big lunch, and may mean that I must sleep to recover equilibrium. I will, however, use the Pentagram ritual on my Anahata Cakkrm [the heart; a nerve-centre in Hindu mystical physiology. --- ED.] and see if that steadies me. (P.S. --- Yes: instantly). Notice, please, how in this condition of intense magical strain the most trifling things have a great influence. Normally, I can eat anything in any quantity without the slightest effect of any sort; witness my expeditions and debauches; nothing upsets me. P.S. --- But notice, please! Normally half a bottle of Burgundy excites me notably; while doing this magic is like so much water. A "transvaluation of all values!"

      3.55. Over a citron press I have revised the new Ritual. Also I have bought suitable materials for copying it fair; and this I did without solemnity or ceremonial, {42} but quite simply, just as anybody else might buy them. In short, I bought them in a truly Rosicrucian manner, according to the custom of the country. I add a few considerations on the grade of Adeptus Major 6x = 5x.
      (P.S. --- Distinction is to be made between attainment of this grade in the natural and in the spiritual world. The former I long since possessed.)

      1. It may perhaps mean severe asceticism. In case I should be going out on that path I will try and get a real good dinner to fortify myself.
         
      2. The paths leading to Geburah are from Hod, that of the Hanged Man, and from Tiphereth, that of Justice, both equilibrated aspects of Severity, the one implying Self-Sacrifice, the other involuntary suffering. One is Freewill, the other Karma; and that in a wider sense than that of Suffering.
         The Ritual DCLXXI will still be applicable: indeed, it may be considered sufficient; but of course it must be lived as well as performed. (I must here complain of serious trouble with fountain pens, and the waste of priceless time fixing them up. They have been wrong throughout the whole operation, a thing that has not happened to me for near eight years. I hope I've got a good one at last --- yes, thank God! this one writes decently.) {43}

         4.15. Somehow or other I have got off the track; have been fooling about with too many odd things, necessary as they may have been. I had better take a solid hour willing the Tryst with Adonai.

         5.40. Have done all this, and a Work of Kindness. I will again revise the new ritual, dine, return and copy it fair for use. Let Adonai the Lord oversee the Work, that it be perfect, a sure link with Him, a certain and infallible Conjuration, and Spell, and Working of true Magick Art, that I may invoke Him with success whenever seemeth good unto Him. Unto Him; not unto Me! Is it not written that Except Adonai build the House, they labour in vain that build it?

         6.15. Chez Lavenue. Not feeling like revision, will read through this record.
         My dinner is to be Bisque d'Ecrevisses, Tournedos Rossini, a Coupe Jack, half a bottle of Meursault, and Coffee. All should now acquit adepts of the charge of not knowing how to do themselves well.

         7.20. Dinner over, I return the Mantra-Yoga. One may note that I expected the wine to have an excessive effect on me; on the contrary, it has much less effect than usual. This is rather important. I have purposely abstained from anything that might be called a drug, until now, for fear of confusing the effects.
         With my knowledge of hashish-effects, I could very {44} likely have broken up the Apophis-kingdom of yesterday in a moment, and the truth of it would have been 5 per cent. drug and 95 per cent. magic; but nobody would have believed me. Remember that this record is for the British Public, "who may like me yet." God forbid! for I cannot echo Browning's hope. Their greasiness, hypocrisy, and meanness are such that their appreciation could only mean my vileness, not their redemption. Sorry if I seem pessimistic about them! A nasty one for me, by the way, if they suddenly started buying me! I should have, in mere consistency, to cut my throat!
         Calm yourself, my friend! There is no danger.

         7.40. At home again and robed. Am both tired and oppressed, even in my peace; for the day has been, and the evening is, close and hot, with a little fog, and, one may suspect, the air is overcharged with electricity. I will rest quietly with my mantra as Hanged Man, and perhaps sleep for a little.

         8.10. No sleep --- no rest for the wicked! 'Tis curious how totally independent is mantra-yoga of reverie. I can say my mantra vigorously while my thought wanders all over the world; yet I cannot write the simplest sentence without stopping it, unless with a very great effort, and then it is not satisfactory to either party!
         Meditation --- of the "rational' sort --- on this leads me to suggest that active "radiant" thought may be incompatible with the mantra, itself being (?) active. One can {45} read and understand quite easily with the mantra going; one can remember things.
         For example, I see my watch chain; I think. "Gold. Au, 196 atomic weight. AuCl3, 3 10s. 0"d". an ounce" and so on "ad" "infinitum;" but the act of writing down these things stops the mantra. This may be (partly) because I always say under my breath each word as I write it. [P.S. --- But I do so, though less possibly, as I read.]
         8.22. As I am really awake, I may as well do a little Pranayama. 8.40. How little I know of magic and the conditions of success! My 17 cycles of breath were not absolutely easy; yet I did them. After a big dinner!!! The sweating was quite suppressed, in spite of the heat of the night and the exercise; and the first symptoms of the Bhuchari-Siddhi --- the "jumping about like a frog" --- were well marked. I am encouraged to spend a few minutes (still in Asana) reading the Shiva Sanhita.
         9.0. Asana very painful again. True, I was doing it very strictly. I notice they give a second stage --- trembling of the body --- as preliminary to the jumping about like a frog --- I had omitted this, as one is so obviously the germ of the other. The Hindus seem to lack a sense of proportion. When the Yogi, by turning his tongue back for one half-minute, has conquered old age, disease and death; then instead of having good time he patiently (and rather pathetically, I think!) devotes his youthful {46} immortality to trying to "drink the air through the crow-bill" . . . . . . . . in the hope of curing a consumption of the lungs which he probably never had and which was in any case cured by his former effort! 9.40. Have been practising a number of these mudras and asanas. Concerning the Visuddi Cakkrm which is "of brilliant gold or smoke colour and has sixteen petals corresponding to the sixteen vowel sounds," one might make a good mantra of the English vowel sounds, or the Hebrew.
         "Curiouser and curiouser!" The Yogis identify the Varana (Ganges) with the Ida-Nadi, the Asi (?) with the Pingala-Nadi, and Benares with the space between them. Like my identification of my throat with the Gate of the cimetire du Montparnasse. Well, it requires very considerable discrimination and a good sound foundation of knowledge, if one means to get any sense at all out of these Hindu books.

         10.20. A little Pranayama, I think.

         10.22. Can't get steady and easy at all! Will try Hanged Man again.

         10.42. Not much good. The mantra goes on, but without getting hold of the Chakkrm.
         'Tis difficult to explain; the best simile I can get is that of a motor running with the clutch out; or of a man cycling on a suspended machine.
         There's no grip to it. {47}
         The fact of the matter is, I am quite unconcentrated. Evidently the Osiris Risen stage is over; and I think it is a case for violent measures.
         If one were to slack off now and hope for the morning, like a shipwrecked Paul, one would probably wake up a mere man of the world.
         The Question then arises: What shall I do to be saved? The only answer --- and one which is quite unconnected with the question -- is that a Ritual of Adeptus Major should display the Birth of Horus and Slaying of Typhon. Here again Horus and Harpocrates --- the twins of the twin signs of 0x = 0x ritual --- are the slayers of Typhon. So all the rituals get mixed: the symbols recur, though in a different aspect. Anyway, one wants something a deal better than the path of P in 4x = 7x ritual.
         I think the postulant should be actually scourged, tortured, branded by fire for his equilibrations at the various "Stations of the Cross" or points upon his mystic journey. He must assuredly drink blood for the sacrament --- ah! now I see it all so well! The Initiator must kill him, Osiris; he must rise again as Horus and kill the Initiator, taking his place in the ceremony thence to the end. A bit awkward technically, but 'twill yield to science. They did it of old by a certain lake in Italy! Well, all this is dog-faced demon, ever seducing me from the Sacred Mysteries. I can't go out and kill anybody at this time o'night! We might make a start, {48} though, with a little scourging, torturing, and branding by fire. ... Anything for a quiet life!

         11.0. But scourging oneself is not easy with a robe on; and though one could take it off, there is this point to be considered: that one can never (except by a regrettable accident) hurt oneself more than one wants to. In other words, it is impossible thus to inflict pain, and so flagellants have been rightly condemned as mere voluptuaries. The only way to do so would be to inflict some torture whose severity one could not gauge at the time: " "e.g.", one might dip oneself in petroleum and set light to it, as the young lady mystic did --- I suppose in Brittany! --- the other day. It's not the act that hurts, but the consequences; so, although one knows only roughly what will happen, one can force oneself to the act.
         This, then, is a possible form of self-martyrdom. Similarly, mutilations; though it is perhaps just to observe that all these people are mad when they do these things, and their standard of pleasure and pain consequently so different from the sane man's as to be incomprehensible.
         Look at my Uncle Tom! who goes about the world bragging of his chastity. The maniac is probably happy --- a peacock who is all tail! And squawk. Look at the Vegetarians and Wallaceites and all that crew of lunatics. They are paid in the coin of selfconceit. I shall waste no pity on them! {49}
         11.3. Rather pity myself, who cannot even make sensible "considerations" for a Ritual of Adeptus Major. The only thing to do in short is to go steadily on, with a little extra courage and energy --- no harm in that! --- on the same old lines. The Winding of the Way must necessarily lead me just where it may happen to go. Why deliberately go off to Geburah? Why not aspire direct by the Path of the Moon-Ray unto the Ineffable Crown? Modesty is misplaced here! Very good. Then how aspire? Who is it that standeth in the Moon-Ray? The Holy Guardian Angel. Aye! O my Lord Adonai, Thou art the Beginning and the End of the Path. For as Thou HB:Heh HB:Taw HB:Aleph thou art also 406 = HB:Vau HB:Taw Tau the material world, the Omega. And as He HB:Aleph HB:Vau HB:Heh Thou art 12, the rays of the Ineffable Crown.
         (A disaster has occurred; viz., a sudden and violent attack of that which demands a tabloid of Pepsin, Bismuth, and Charcoal --- and gets it. On my return, 11.34, I continue.) And as HB:Yod HB:Nun HB:Aleph Ani "I" thou art also HB:Nun HB:Yod HB:Aleph 2 the Negative, that is beyond these on either side! But this illness is a nuisance. I must have got a little chill somehow. Its imminence would account for my lack of concentration. And I could doubtless go on gloriously, but that another disaster has occurred!
         Enter Maryt, sitting and clothed and in her right mind --- or comparatively so!
         11.38. I suppose, then, I must quit the game for a minute or two. {50} 11.56. Got rid of her, thank God. I may say in self-defence that I would never have let her in but for the accident of my being outside the room and the door left open, so that she was inside on my return.
         Let me get into Asana.

         			    "The Fifth Day"
         

         12.26. So beginneth the Fifth Day of this great Magical Retirement. With two and twenty breath-cycles did I begin. This practice was a little easier; but not much better. It ought to become quite simple and natural before one devotes the half-minute of Kambhakam (breath held-in), when one is rigid to a strong projection of Will toward Adonai, as has been my custom. I hope to-day will be more hard definite magical Work, less discourse, less beatific state of mind --- which is the very devil! the real Calypso, none the less temptress because her name happens to be Penelope. Ah Lord Adonai, my Lord! Grant unto me the Perfume and the Vision; let me attain the desirable harbour; for my little ship is tossed by divers tempests, even by Euroclydon, in the Place where Four Winds meet.

         12.35. Therefore I shall go to rest, letting my mind rest ever in the Will toward Adonai. Let my sleep be toward Him, or annihilation; let my waking be to the music of His name; let the day be full to the uttermost of Him only.

         2.18. My good friend the body woke me at this hour by means of disturbed dreams about a quite imaginary {51} relative of whom nobody for years had ever seen anything but his head, which he would poke out of a waterproof sheet. He was supposed to be an invalid. I am glad to say that I woke properly and got quite automatically on to the mantra.
         My Prana, however, seems feverish and unbalanced. So I eat a biscuit or two and drink some water and will put it right with the Pentagram Ritual.
         2 WEH Note: This is a correction from HB:Vau HB:Yod HB:Aleph , an evident typo in the original printing.
         Done, but oh! how hard. Sleep fights me as Apollyon fought Christian! but I will up and take him by the throat. (See; 'tis 2.30. Twelve minutes to do that little in!) And look at the handwriting!

         3.6. How excellent is Prana Yama, a comfort to the soul! I did thirty-two cycles, easy and pleasant; could have gone on indefinitely. The muscles went rigid, practically of their own accord; so light did I feel that I almost thought myself to be "that wise one" who "can balance himself on his thumb." Sleep is conquered right away from the word "jump." Indeed, if

         		    Satan trembles when	he sees
         		    The	weakest	saint upon his knees;
         

         then surely:

         		    Satan flees, exclaiming "Damn!"
         		    When any saint starts Pranayam!
         

         So happy, indeed, was I in the practice that I devoted myself by the Waiting formula to Adonai; and that I got to "neighbourhoodconcentration" is shewn by the fact that I several times forgot altogether about Adonai, and found myself saying the silly old Mantram. {52}
         I despair of asking my readers to distinguish between the common phenomenon of wandering thought and this phenomenon which is at the very portal of true and perfect concentration; yet it is most important that the distinction should be seized. The further difficulty will occur --- I hope! --- of distinguishing between the vacancy of the idiot, and that destruction of thought which we call Shivadarshana, or Nirvikalpa-samadhi. [We must again refer the reader to the Hindu classics. --- ED.] The only diagnostic I can think of is this; that there is (I can't be sure about it) no rational connection between the thought one left behind one and the new thought. In a simple wandering during the practice of concentration one can very nearly always (especially with a little experience) trace the chain. With neighbourhood-concentration this is not so. Perhaps there is a chain, but so great already is the power of preventing the impressions from rising into consciousness that one has no knowledge of the links, each one having been automatically slaughtered on the threshold of the consciousness. Of course, the honest and wary practitioner will have no difficulty in recognising the right kind of wandering; with this explanation there is no excuse for him if he does. I have another theory, though. Perhaps this is not a wandering at all, but a complete annihilation of all thought. Affirming Adonai, I lop off the heads of all others; and Adonai's own head falls. But in the {53}
         momentary pause which this causes, some old habitual thought (tonight my mantra) rises up. A case of the Closure followed by the Moving of the Previous Question.
         Oh Lord! when wilt Thou carry a Motion to Adjourn, nay, to Prorogue, nay! to Dissolve this Parliament?

         3.32. I am not sleepy; yet will I again compose myself, devoting myself to Adonai.

         7.7. Again woke and continued mantra.

         8.10. I ought to have made more of it at 7.7; I went off again to sleep; the result is that I am rather difficult to wake again. However, let me be vigilant now.

         8.45. I have dressed and from 8.35-8.45 performed the Ritual of the Bornless One.
         Though I performed it none too well (failing, "e.g.", to make use of the Geometric Progression on the Mahalingam formula in the Ieou section [We cannot understand this passage. It presumably refers to the "Preliminary Invocation" in the "Goetia" of King Solomon, published S.P.R.T., Boleskine Foyers, N.B., 1904. --- ED], and not troubling even to formulate carefully the Elemental Hosts, or to marshal them about the circle) I yet, by the favour of IAO, obtained a really good effect, losing all sense of personality and being exalted in the Pillar. Peace and ecstasy enfolded me. It is well.

         8.50 But as I was ill last night, and as the morning has broken chill and damp, I will go to the Caf du Dme {54} and break my fast humbly with Coffee and Sandwich. May it strengthen me in my search for the Quintessece, the Stone of the Wise, the Summum Bonum, True Wisdom and Perfect Happiness!

         9.0. I hope (by the way) that I have made it quite clear that all this time even a momentary cessation of active thought has been accompanied by the rising-up of the mantra. The rhythm, in short, perpetually dominates the brain; and becomes active on every opportunity. The liquid Moslem mantra is much easier to get on to than is the usual Hindu type with its "m" and "n" sounds predominating: but it does not shake the brain up so forcibly. Perhaps 'tis none the worse for that. I think the unconscious training of the brain to an even rhythm better than startling it into the same by a series of shocks. I should like, to to remark that the suggestions in the "Herb Dangerous" [We hope to publish this essay in No. 2 of "The Equinox" --- ED.] for a ritual seem the wrong way round. It seems to me that the Eastern methods are very arid, and chiefly valuable as a training of the Will, while the Ceremonies of the Magic of Light tune up the soul to that harmony when it is but one step to the Crown.
         The real plan is, then, to train the Will into as formidable an engine as possible, and then, at the moment in the Ritual when the real work should be done, to fling forth flying that concentrated Will "whirling forth with re-echoing Roar, so that it may comprehend with {55} invincible Will ideas omniform, which flying forth from that one Fountain issued: whose Foundation is One, One and Alone."
         As therefore Discipline of whatever kind is only one way of going into a wood at midnight on Easter Eve and cutting the magic wand with a single blow of the magic knife, etc. etc. etc., we can regard the Western system as the essential one. Yet of course Pranayama, for one thing, has its own definite magical effect, apart from teaching the practitioner that he must last out those three seconds --- those deadly long last three seconds --- even if he burst in the process.
         All this I am writing during breakfast. My devotees may note, by the way, how the desire to sleep is breaking up.
         

         	  Night	    I. 7 1/2 hours, unbroken from 12.30.
         	    "	   II. 7 hours nearly, with dreams.
         	    "	  III. 8 hours nearly; but woke	three or four
         

         times, and if I had not been a worm would have scattered it like chaff!

         	    "	   IV. 6 1/2 hours; and	I wake fresh.
         	    "	    V. 1 3/4 + 4 1/2 + 1 hour; and real	good work done
         		       in the intervals.
         [P.S.	    "	   VI. Probably	4 hours.
         	    "	  VII. 2 + 2 + 1/2 hours.
         	    "	 VIII. 6 hours much broken.
         	    "	   IX. 1 1/2 + 2 + 2 hours.
         	    "	    X. 4 + 1 1/4 hours.
         	    "	   XI. 1 3/4 + 4 1/2 hours.
         	    "	  XII. Back to the normal --- 7	hours perfect sleep.]
         

         {56}
         11.30. Have been walks with the mantra arranging for and modelling a "saddle" whereby to get Asana really steady and easy; also for some photographs illustrating some of the more absurd positions, for the instruction of my devotees.
         I must now copy out the new Ritual.
         This, you will readily perceive, is all wrong. Theoretically, everything should be ready by the beginning of the Operation; and one should simply do it and be done with it. But this is a very shallow view. One never knows what may be required; "i.e.", a beginner like myself doesn't. Further, one cannot write an effective Ritual till one is already in a fairly exalted state ... and so on.
         We must just do the best we can, now as always.

         2.0. I have been concentrating solely on the Revision and copying of the Ritual. Therefore I now live just as I always live in order to get a definite piece of work done: concentrating as it were " "off" the Work. As Levi also adjures us by the Holy Names. Coming back from lunch (a dozen Marennes Vertes and an Andouillette aux Pommes) I met Zelina Visconti, more lovely-ugly than ever in her wild way. She says that she is favourably disposed towards me, on the recommendation of her concierge!!! "The tongue of good report hath already been heard in his favour. Advance, free and of good report!" {57} 4.45. And only two pages done! but the decorations "marvelious"!

         5.15. Another half-hour gone! in mere titivating the Opus! and now I'm too tired to as much as start Prana Yama. I will go to the Dome and see what a citron press and a sandwich does for me, at the same time taking over the MS. of Liber DCCCCLXIII., which has been given me to correct, and doing it. Please the pigs, the Visconti will cheer me up in the evening; and I shall get a good day in to-morrow.

         6.35. Still at Liber DCCCCLXIII. [To be published shortly by "The Equinox." --- ED.] I should like to write mantrams for each chapter.

         7.20. Still at Liber DCCCCLXIII. I need hardly say that I am perfectly aware that in one sense all this working and ritual making and copying and illuminating is but a crowd of dog-faced demons, since the One Thought of Unity with Adonai is absent. But I do it on purpose, making each thing I do into that Magic Will.
         So if you ask me "Are you correcting Liber DCCCCLXIII.?" I reply, "No! I am Adonai!"

         7.50. Arrival of the Visconti.

         8.50. Departure of the Visconti. Really a necessary rest: for my head had begun to ache, and her kiss, half given and half taken, much refreshed me.

         9.50. Have done Liber DCCCCLXIII. 'Tis hardly thinkable that one could have read it (merely) in the {58} time. Say three and a half hours! Well, if it doesn't count as Tapas, and Jap, and Yama, and Niyama, and all the rest of it, all I can say is that I think They don't play fair. I will now go and get something to eat, and (God willing) on my return settle down to real work, for I need daylight to copy my Ritual.

         11.30. A sandwich and two coffees at the Versailles and a citron press at the Dome, some little chatter with M---e, B---e, H---s, and others. In fact, I'm a lazy unconcentrated hound. I started Mantra again, though; of course it goes quite easily.

         11.50. Undressed, and the mantra going, and the Will toward Adonai less unapparent.
         To-day I began ill, full of spiritual pride --- look at the records of my early hours! One might have thought me a great master of magic loftily condescending to explain a few elementary truths suited to the capacity of his disciples. The fact is that I am a toad, ugly and venomous, and if I do wear a precious jewel in my hand, that jewel is Adonai, and --- well, come to think of it, I am Adonai. But St. John is not Adonai; and St. John had better do a little humiliation to-morrow. Nothing being more humiliating than Prana Yama, I will begin with that.

         "The Sixth Day"

         12.5. Thus then --- oh ye great gods of Heaven! --- begins the Sixth Day of the Great Magical Retirement of that {59} Holy Illuminated Man of God our Greatly Honoured Frater, O.M., Adeptus Exemptus 7x = 4x Brother-Elect of the Most Secret and Sublime Order A.'. A.'.
         He does with great difficulty (and no interior performance) just four breath-cycles.
         Somebody once remarked that it had taken a hundred million years to produce me; I may add that I hope it will be another hundred million before God makes such another cur.

         12.15. Have performed the Equilibrating Ritual of the Scourge, the Dagger, and the Chain; with the Holy Anointing Oil that bringeth the informing Fire into their Lustral Water.

         12.35. I am so sleepy that I cannot concentrate at all. (I was trying the "Bornless One.") The magic goes well; good images and powerful, but I slack right off into sleep. It's the hour for heroic measures or else to say: A good night's rest, and start fresh in the morning! I suppose, as usual, I shall say the first and do the second.

         12.45. Have risen, washed, performed the ritual "Thee I invoke, the Bornless One" physically.
         The result fair. One gets better magical sight and feeling when one is performing a ritual in one's Astral Body, so called. For one is on the same plane as the things one's dealing with. If, however, serious work is wanted, one must be all there. To get "materialized" "spirits" --- pardon the absurd language! --- one should (nay, must!) work inside {60} one's body. So, too, I think, for the highest spiritual work; for that Work extends from Malkuth to Kether.
         Here is the great value of the rationalistic Eastern systems. [P.S. Of course scientifically worked with pencil, note-book, and stop-watch. The Yogi is usually in practice just as vague a dreamer as the mystic.] They keep one always balanced by common sense. One might go off on lines of pleasing illusion for years, until one was lost on the "Astral Plane." All this, observe, is very meaningless, very vague at the best. What is the Astral Plane? Is there such a thing? How do its phantoms differ from those of absinthe, reverie, and love, and so on?
         We may admit their unsubstantiality without denying their power; the phantoms of absinthe and love are potent enough to drive a man to death or marriage; while reverie may end in antivivisectionism or nut-food-madness.
         On the whole, I prefer to explain the many terrible catastrophes I have seen caused by magic misunderstood by supposing that in magic one is working with some very subtle and essential function of the brain, whose disease may mean for one man paralysis, for another mania, for a third melancholia, for a fourth death. It is not " priori" absurd to suggest that there may be some one particular thought that would cause death. In the man with heart disease, for instance, the thought "I will run quickly upstairs" might cause death quite as directly as "I will shoot myself." Yet of {61} course this thought acts through the will and the apparatus of nerves and muscles. But might not a sudden fear cause the heart to stop? I think cases are on record. But all this is unknown ground, or, as Frank Harris would say, Unpath'd Waters. We are getting dangerously near "mental arsenic" and "all --- god --- good --- bones --- truth --- lights --- liver --- mind --- blessing --- heart --- one and not of a series --- ante and pass the buck."
         The common sense of the practical man of the world is good enough for me!
         1.10. Will G. R. S. Mead or somebody wise like that tell me why it is that if I get out of my body and face (say) East, I can turn (in the "astral body") as far as West-Sou'-West or thereabouts, but no further except with very great difficulty and after long practice? In making the circle, just as I got to West, I would swing right back to West-Nor'-West: turn easily enough, in short, to any point but due West, within perhaps 5x, but never pass that point. I have taught myself to do it, but always with an effort. Is this a common experience?
         I connect it with my faculty of knowing direction, which all mountaineers and travellers who have been with me admit to be quite exceptional.
         If I leave my tent or hut by a door facing, say, South-West, throughout that whole day, over all kinds of ground, through any imaginable jungle, in all kinds {62} of weather, fog, blizzard, blight, by night or day, I know within 5x (usually within 2x) the direction in which I faced when I left that tent or hut. And if I happen to have observed its compass bearing, of course I can deduce North by mere judgment of angle, at which I am very accurate.
         Further, I keep a mental record, quite unconsciously, of the time occupied on a march; so that I can always tell the time within five minutes or so without consulting my watch. Further, I have another automatic recorder which maps out distance plus direction. Suppose I were to start from Scott's and walk (or drive; it's all the same to me) to Haggerston Town Hall (wherever Haggerston may be; but say it's N.E.), thence to Maida Vale. From Maida Vale I could take a true line for Piccadilly again and not go five minutes walk out of my way, bar blind alleys, etc., and I should know when I got close to Scott's again before I recognised any of the surroundings. It always seems to me that I get an intuition of the direction and length of line A (Scott's to Haggerston bee-line; in spite of any winding, it would make little odds if I went vi Poplar), another intuition of line B (Haggerston to Maida Vale), and obtained my line C (back to Scott's) by "Subliminal trigonometry."
         In this example I am assuming that I had never been in London before. I have done precisely similar work in dozens of strange cities, even a twisted warren like Tangier or Cairo. I am worse in Paris than {63} anywhere else; I think because the main thoroughfares radiate from stars, and so the angles puzzle one. The power, too, suits ill with civilized life; it fades as I live in towns, revives as I get back to God's good earth. A sevenfoot tent and the starlight --- who wants more?

         1.35. Well, I've woke myself writing this. The point that really struck me was this: what would happen if by severe training I forced my "astral body" --- damn it! isn't there a term for it free from L. ... -prostitution? (One speaks of "les deux prostitutions"; so it's all right.) My Scin-Laeca, then --- what would happen if I forced my Scin-Laeca to become a Whirling Dervish? I couldn't get giddy, because my Semicircular canals would be at rest.
         I must really try the experiment.
         [Scin-Laeca. See Lord Lytton's "Strange Story." --- ED.]

         1.58. I will now devote myself to sleep, willing Adonai. Lord Adonai, give me deep rest like death, so that in very few hours I may be awake and active, full of lion-strength of purpose toward Thee!

         7.35. My heroic conduct was nearly worth a "Nuit Blanche." For, being so thoroughly awake, I had all my Prana irritated, a feeling like the onset of a malarial attack, twelve hours before the temperature rises. I dare say it was after 3 o'clock when I slept; I woke too, several times, and ought to have risen and done Prana Yama: but I did not. O worm! the sleepiest bird can easily catch "thee!" ... I am not nicely awake, though it is to {64} my credit that I woke saying my mantra with vigour. 'Tis a bitter chill and damp the morn; yet must I rise and toil at my fair Ritual.

         7.55. Settling down to copy.

         10.12. Have completed my two prescribed pages of illumination. Will go and break my fast and do my business.

         10.30. After writing letters went out and had coffee and two brioches.

         11.50. At Louvre looking up some odd points in the lore of Khemi [Egypt. --- ED.] for my Ritual.

         12.20. I cannot understand it; but I feel faint for lack of food; I must get back to strict Hatha-Yoga feeding.

         1.00. Half-dozen oysters and an entrecte aux pommes.

         2.05. Back to work. I am in a very low physical condition; quite equilibrated, but exhausted. I can hardly walk upright! Lord Adonai, how far I wander from the gardens of thy beauty, where play the fountains of the Elixir!

         2.55. Wrote two pages; the previous were not really dry; so I must wait a little before illuminating.
         I will rest --- if I can! In the Hanged Man posture.

         4.30. I soon went to sleep and stayed there. It is useless to persist. ... Yet I persist.

         5.40. I was so shockingly cold that I went to the Dme and had milk, coffee, and sandwich, eaten in Yogin manner. {65} But it has done no good as far as energy is concerned. I'm just as bad or worse than I was on the day which I have called the day of Apophis (third day). The only thing to my credit is the way I've kept the mantra going.

         5.57. One thing at least is good; if anything does come of this great magical retirement --- which I am beginning to doubt --- it will not be mixed up with any other enthusiasm, poetic, venereal, or bacchanalian. It will be purely mystic. But as it has not happened yet --- and just at present it seems incredible that it should happen --- I think we may change the subject. .... What a fool I am, by the way! I say that "He is God, and that there is no other God than He" 1800 times an hour; but I don't "think" it even once a day.

         6.30. All my energy has suddenly come back. Was it that Hatha-Yoga sandwich?
         I go on copying the Ritual.

         7.10. Copying finished. I will go and dine, and learn it by heart, humbly and thoughtfully. The illumination of it can be finished, with a little luck, in two more days. I am disinclined to use the Ritual until it is beautifully coloured. As Zoroaster saith: "God is never so much turned away from man, and never so much sendeth him new paths, as when he maketh ascent to divine speculations or works, in a confused or disordered manner, and (as the oracle adds) with unhallowed lips, or unwashed feet. For of those who are thus {66} negligent the progress in imperfect, the impulses are vain, and the paths are dark."

         7.40. Chez Lavenue. Bisque d'Ecrevisses, demi-perdreau la Gele, Cpes Bordelaise, Coupe Jack. Demi Clos du Roi. I am sure I made a serious mistake in the beginning of this Operation of Magick Art. I ought to have performed a true Equilibration by an hour's Prana Yama in Asana (even if I had to do it without Kambhakham) at midnight, dawn, noon, and sunset, and I should have allowed nothing in heaven above, or in earth beneath, or in the waters under the earth, to have interfered with its due performance.
         Instead I thought myself such a fine fellow that to get into Asana for a few minutes every midnight and the rest go-as-youplease would be enough. I am well punished.

         8.30. This food, eaten in a Yogin and ceremonial manner, is doing me good. I shall end, God willing, with coffee, cognac, and cigar. It is a fatal error to knock the body to pieces and leave the consciousness intact, as has been the case with me all day. It is true that some people find that if they hurt the body, they make the mind unstable. True; they predispose it to hallucination.
         One should use strictly corporeal methods to tame the body; strictly mental methods to control the mind. This latter restriction is not so vitally important. Any weapon is legitimate against a public enemy like the mind. No truce nor quarter! {67} On the contrary, to use the spiritual forces to secure health, as certain persons attempt to do to-day, is the vilest black magic. This is one of the numerous reasons for supposing that Jesus Christ was a Brother of the Left-Hand Path. Now my body has been treating me well, waking nicely at convenient hours, sleeping at suitable times, keeping itself to itself ... an admirable body. Then why shouldn't I take it out and give it the best dinner Lavenue can serve? ... Provided that it doesn't stop saying that mantra!
         It would be so easy to trick myself into the belief that I had attained! It would be so easy to starve myself until there was "visions about"! It would be so easy to write a sun-splendid tale of Adonai my Lord and my lover, so as to convince the world and myself that I had found Him! With my poetic genius, could I not outwrite St. John (my namesake) and Mrs. Dr. Anna Bonus Kingsford? Yea, I could deceive myself if I did not train and fortify my scepticism at every point. That is the great usefulness of this record; one will be able to see afterwards whether there is any trace of poetic or other influence. But this is my sheet-anchor: I cannot wrote a lie, either in poetry or about magic. These are serious things that constitute my personality; and I could more easily blow out my brains that write a poem which I did not feel. The apparent exception is in case of irony.
         [P.S. I wonder whether it would be possible to draw up a mathematical table, showing curves of food (and {68} digestion), drink, other physical impulses, weather, and so on, and comparing them with the curve of mystic enthusiasm and attainment. Through it is perhaps true that perfect health and "bien-tre" are the bases of any true trance or rapture, it seems unlikely that mere exuberance of the former can excite the latter. In other words there is probably some first matter of the work which is not anything we know of as bodily. On my return to London, I must certainly put the matter before more experienced mathematicians, and if possible, get a graphic analysis of the kind indicated.]

         9.20. How difficult and expensive it is to get drunk, when one is doing magic! Nothing exhilarates or otherwise affects one. Oh, the pathos and tragedy of those lines:

         		    Come where the booze is cheaper!
         		       Come where the pots hold	more!
         

         How I wish I had written them!

         10.08. Having drunk a citron press and watched the poker game at the Dme for a little, I now return home. I thought to myself, "Let me chuck the whole thing overboard and be sensible, and get a good night's rest" --- and perceived that it would be impossible. I am so far into this Operation that

         		    pausing to cast one	last glance back
         		       O'er the	safe road --- 'twas gone! {69}
         

         I must come out of it either an Adept or a maniac. Thank the Lord for that! It saves trouble.

         10.20. Undressed and robed. Will do an Aspiration in the Hanged Man position, hoping to feel rested and fit by midnight. The Incense has arrived from London; and I feel its magical effects most favourable.
         O creature of Incense! I conjure thee by Him that sitteth upon the Holy Throne and liveth and reigneth for ever as the Balance of Righteousness and Truth, that thou comfort and exalt my soul with Thy sweet perfume, that I may be utterly devoted to this Work of the Invocation of my Lord Adonai, that I may fully attain thereto, beholding Him face to face --- as it is written "Before there was Equilibrium, Countenance beheld not Countenance" --- yea, being utterly absorbed in His ineffable Glory --- yea, being That of which there is no Image either in speech or thought.

         10.55. What a weary world we live in! No sooner am I betrayed into making a few flattering remarks about my body that I find everything wrong with it, and two grains of Cascara Sagrada necessary to its welfare!
         .... I wish I knew where I was! I don't at all recognise what Path I am on; it doesn't seem like a Path at all. As far as I can see, I am drifting rudderless and sailless on a sea of no shore --- the False Sea of the Qliphoth. For in my stupidity I began to try a certain ritual of the Evil Magic, so called. ... Not {70} evil in truth, because only that is evil (in one sense) which does not lead to Adonai. (In another sense, all is evil which is not Adonai.) And of course I had the insane idea that this ritual would serve to stimulate my devotion. For the information of the Z.A.M., I may explain that this ritual pertained to Saturn in Libra; and, though right enough in its own plane, is a dog-faced demon in this operation. Is it, though? I am so blind that I can no longer decide the simplest problems. Else, I see so well, and am so balanced, that I see both sides of every question.
         In chess-blindness one used to abjure the game. I never tried to stick it through; I wish I had. Anyhow, I have to stick this through!
         O Lord of the Eye, let thine Eye be ever open upon me! For He that watcheth Israel doth not slumber nor sleep! Lord Shiva, open Thou the Eye upon me, and consume me altogether in its brilliance!
         Destroy this Universe! Eat up thine hermit in thy terrible jaws! Dance Thou upon this prostrate saint of Thine! ... I suffer from thirst ... it is a thirst of the body ... yet the thirst of the soul is deeper, and impossible to quench. Lord Adonai! Let the Powers of Geburah plunge me again and again into the Fires of Pain, so that my steel may be tempered to that Sword of Magic that invoketh Thy Knowledge and Thy Conversation. Hoor! Elohim Gibor! Kamael! Seraphim! Graphiel! {71} Bartzabel! Madim! I conjure ye in the Number Five. By the Flaming Star of my Will! By the Senses of my Body! By the Five Elements of my Being! Rise! Move! Appear! Come ye forth unto me and torture me with your fierce pangs ... for why? because I am the Servant of the Same your God, the True Worshipper of the Highest.

         Ol sonuf vaoresaji, gono ladapiel, elonusaha caelazod.

         I rule above ye, said the Lord of Lords, exalted in power. [From Dr. Dee's MSS. --- ED.]

         11.17. Will now try the Hanged Man again.

         11.30. Very vigorous and good, my willing of Adonai. ... I should like to explain the difficulty. It would be easy enough to form a magical Image of Adonai: and He would doubtless inform it. But it would only be an Image. This may be the meaning of the commandment "Thou shalt not make any graven image," etc., just as "Thou shalt not have any other Gods but me" implies single-minded devotion (Ekgrata) to Adonai. So any mental or magical Image must necessarily fall short of the Truth. Consequently one has to will that which is formless; and this is very difficult. To concentrate the mind upon a definite thing is hard enough; yet at least there is something to grasp, and some means of checking one's result. But in this case, the moment one's will takes a magical shape -- and the will simply revels in creating shapes -- at the moment one knows that one has gone off the track. {72} This is of course (nearly enough) another way of expressing the Hindu Meditation whose method is to kill all thoughts as they arise in the mind. The difference is that I am aiming at a target, while they are preventing arrows from striking one. In my aspiration to know Adonai, I resemble their Yogis who concentrate on their "personal Lord"; but at the same time it must be remembered that I am not going to be content with what would content them. In other words, I am going to "define" "the Knowledge and Conversation of my Holy Guardian Angel" as equal to Neroda-Samapatti, the trance of Nibbana. I hope I shall be able to live up to this!

         11.55. Have been practising Asana, etc. I forgot one thing in the last entry: I had been reproaching Adonai that for six days I had evoked Him in vain. ... I got the reply, "The Seventh Day shall be the Sabbath of the Lord thy God." So mote it be!

         "The Seventh Day."

         12.17. I began this great day with Eight breath-cycles; was stopped by the indigestion trouble in its other form. (P.S. --- Evidently the introduction of the Cascara into my sensitive aura made its action instantaneous.) My breathing passages were none too clear, either; I have evidently taken a chill. Now, O, my Lord Adonai, thou Self-Glittering One, wilt Thou not manifest unto Thy chosen one? For see {73} me! I am as a little white dove trembling upon thine altar, its throat stretched out to the knife. I am as a young child bought in the slave market ... and night is fallen! I await Thee, O my Lord, with a great longing, stronger than Life; yet am I as patient as Death. There was a certain Darwesh whose turban a thief stole. But when they said to him, "See! he hath taken the road to Damascus!" that holy man answered, as he went quietly to the cemetery, "I will await him here!"
         So, therefore, there is one place, O thou thief of my heart's love, Adonai, to which thou must come at last; and that place is the tomb in which lie buried all my thoughts and emotions, all that which is "I, and Me, and Mine." There will I lay myself and await thee, even as our Father Christian Rosenkreutz that laid himself in the Pastos in the Vault of the Mountain of the Caverns, Abiegnus, on whose portal did he cause to be written the words, "Post Lux Crucis Annos Patebo." So Thou wilt enter in (as did Frater N. N. and his companions) and open the Pastos; and with thy Winged Globe thou wilt touch the Rosy Cross upon my breast, and I shall wake into life --- the true life that is Union with Thee.
         So therefore --- perinde ac cadaver --- I await Thee.

         12.43. I wrote, by the way, on some previous day (IV. 12.57 A.M.) that I used the Supreme formula of Awaiting. ... Ridiculous mouse! is it not written in the Book of the {74} Heart that is girt about with the Serpent that "To await Thee is the End, not the Beginning"? It is as silly as rising at midnight, and saying, "I will go out and sleep in the sun."
         But I am an Irishman, and if you offer me a donkey-ride at a shilling the first hour and sixpence the second, you must not be surprised at the shrewd silliness of my replying that I will take the second hour first.
         But that is always the way; the love of besting our dearest friends in a bargain is native to us: and so, even in religion, when we are dealing with our own souls, we try to cheat. I go out to cut an almond rod at midnight, and, finding it inconvenient, I "magically affirm" that ash is almond and that seven o'clock is twelve. It seems a pity to have become a magician, capable of forcing Nature to accommodate herself to your statements, for no better use to be made of the power than this!
         Miracles are only legitimate when there is no other issue possible. It is waste of power (the most expensive kind of power) to "make the spirits bring us all kinds of food" when we live next door to the Savoy; that Yogi was a fool who spent forty years learning to walk across the Ganges when all his friends did it daily for two pice; and that man does ill when he invokes Tahuti to cure a cold in the head while Mr. Lowe's shop is so handy in Stafford Street.
         But miracles may be performed in an extremity; and are. This brings us round in a circle; the miracle of the {75} Knowledge and Conversation of the Holy Guardian Angel is only to be performed when the magus has rowed himself completely out; in the language of the Tarot, when the Magus has become the Fool. But for my faith in the Ritual DCLXXI. I should be at the end of my spells.
         Well? We shall see in the upshot.

         1.25. I really almost begin to believe IT will happen. For I lay down quite free of worry or anxiety (hugging myself, as it were), perfectly sure of Him in the simple non-assertive way that a child is sure of its mother, in a state of pleased expectancy, my thoughts quite suppressed in an intent listening, as it were for the noise of the wind of His chariot, as it were for the rustle of His wings.
         For lo! through the heaven of Nu He rideth in His chariot --- soon, soon He will be here!
         Into this state of listening come certain curious things --- formless flittings, I know not what. Also, what I used to call "telephone-cross" voices --- voices of strange people saying quite absurd commonplace things --- "Here, let's feel it!" "What about lunch?" "So I said to him: Did you ..." and so on; just as if one were overhearing a conversation in a railway carriage. I beheld also Kephra, the Beetle God, the Glory of Midnight. But let me compose myself again to sleep, as did the child Samuel. If He should choose to come, He can easily awaken me. {76}

         3.35. I have been asleep a good deal --- one long dream in which P---t, Lord M---y of B---n and my wife are all staying with me in my mother's house. My room the old room, with one page torn out --- for I conceived it as part of a book, somehow! Oh such a lot of this dream! Most of it clearly due to obvious sources --- I don't see where Lord M---y comes in. Very likely he is dead. I have had that happen now and again. [P.S. --- this was not the case.]
         The dream changed, too, to a liner; where Japanese stole my pipe in a series of adventures of an annoying type --- every one acted as badly as he knew how, and as unexpectedly. Waking just now, and instantly concentrating on Adonai, I found my body seized with a little quivering, very curious and pleasant, like

         		      trembling	leaves in a continuous air.
         

         I think I have heard this state of Interior Trembling described in some mystic books. I think the Shakers and Quakers had violent shudderings. Abdullah Haji of Shiraz writes: ---

         		     Just as the body shudders when the	Soul
         		     Gives up to Allah in its quick career
         		     Itself. ...
         

         It is the tiniest, most intimate trembling, not unlike that of Kambhakham or "Vindu-siddhi" [see the Shiva Sanhita. --- ED.] properly performed; but of a female quality. I feel as if I were being shaken; in {77} the other cases I recognize my own ardour as the cause. It is very gentle and sweet. So now I may turn back to wait for Him.

         3.50. The Voice of the Nadi has changed to a music faint yet very full and very sweet, with a bell-like tone more insistent than the other notes at intervals.

         5.45. Again awake, and patient-eager. The dreams flow through me ceaselessly.
         This time a house where I, like a new Bluebeard, have got to conceal my wives from each other. But my foolish omission to knife them brings it about that I have thirty-nine secret chambers, and only one open one in each case. Oh, yards of it! And all sorts of people come in to supper --- which there isn't any, and we have to do all sorts of shifts --- and all the wives think themselves neglected --- as they are bound to do, if one is insane enough to have forty --- and I loathed them all so! it was terrible having to fly round and comfort and explain; the difficulty increases (I should judge) as about the fifth power of the number of wives... I'm glad I'm awake!
         Yea, and how glad when I am indeed awake from this glamour life, awake to the love my Lord Adonai!
         It is bitter chill at dawn. A consecrating cold it seems to me --- yet I will not confront it and rejoice in it --- I am already content, having ceased to strive.

         7.15. Again awake, deliciously rested and refreshed.

         9.45. Again awake, ditto. {78}

         11.35. I will now break my fast with a sandwich and coffee, eaten Yoginwise.

         I seem like one convalescent after a fever; very calm, very clean, rather weak, too weak, indeed, to be actually happy: but content.
         I spent the morning posing for Michael Brenner, a sculptor who will one day be heard of. Very young yet, but I think the best man of his generation --- of those whose work I have seen. By the way, I am suffering from a swollen finger, since yesterday morning or possibly earlier. I have given it little attention, but it is painful.
         I want to explain why I have so carefully recorded the somewhat banal details of all I have eaten and drunk.

         1. All food is a species of intoxicant; hence a fruitful source of error. Should I obtain any good result, I might say "You were starved" or "You were drunk." It is very easy to get visions of sorts by either process, and to delude oneself into the idea that one has attained, mistaking the Qliphoth for Kether.
         2. In keeping the vow "I will interpret every phenomenon as a particular dealing of God with my soul" the mere animal actions are the most resistant. One cannot see the nature of the phenomenon; it seems so unimportant; one is inclined to despise it. Hence I enter it in the record as a corrective. {79}
            
         3. If others are to read this, I should like them to see that elaborate codes of morality have nothing to do with my system. No question of sin and grace ever enters it.
            If a chemist wants to prepare copper sulphate from its oxide, he does not hesitate on the ground that sulphuric acid, thrown in the eyes, hurts people. So I use the moral drug which will produce the desired result, whether that drug be what people commonly call poison or no. In short, I act like a sensible man; and I think I deserve every credit for introducing this completely new idea into religion.
            12.25. That function of my brain which says "You ought to be willing Adonai" sometimes acts. But I am willing Him! It is so active because all this week it has been working hard, and doesn't realise that its work is done. Just as a retired grocer wakes up and thinks "I must go and open the shop." In Hindu phrase, the thought-stuff, painfully forced all these days into one channel, has acquired the habit ["i.e.", of flowing naturally in it. --- ED.] I am Ekgrata --- one-pointed. Just as if one arranges a siphon, one has to suck and suck for a while, and then when the balance in the two arms of the tube is attained, the fluid goes on softly and silently of its own act. Gravitation which was against us is now for us. So now the whole destiny of the Universe is by me overcome; I am impelled, with ever-gathering and irresistible force, toward Adonai. {80}
            Vi Veri Vniversvm Vivvs Vici! 12.57. Back home to illuminate my beautiful Ritual.

            3.30. Two pages done and set aside to dry. I think I will go for a little walk and enjoy the beautiful sun. Also to the chemist's to have my finger attended to.

            4.05. The chemist refused to do anything; and so I did it myself. It is the romantic malady of ingrowing nail; a little abscess had formed. Devilish painful after the clean-up. Will go the walk aforesaid.

            4.17. I ought to note how on this day there is a complete absence of all one's magical apparatus. The mantra has slowed down to (at a guess) a quarter of its old pace. The rest in unison. This is because the feeling of great power, etc. etc., is the mere evidence of conflict --- the thunder of the guns. Now all is at peace; the power of the river, no more a torrent. The Concourse of the Forces has become the Harmony of the Forces; the word Tetragrammation is spoken and ended; the holy letter Shin is descended into it. For the roaring God of Sinai we have the sleeping Babe of Bethlehem. A fulfilment, not a destroying, of the Law.

            4.45. Am at home again. I will lie down in the Position of the Hanged Man, and await the coming of my Lord.

            6.00. Arisen again to go out to diner. I was half-asleep some of the time.

            6.15. Dinner --- Hors d'OEuvre --- Tripes la Mode de Caen --- Filet de Porc --- Glace --- 1/2 Graves. Oh, how the world {81} hath inflexible intellectual rulers! I eat it in a semi-Yogin manner.

            6.20. I am wondering whether I have not made a mistake in allowing myself to sleep.
            It would be just like me, if there were only one possible mistake to make, to make it! I was perfect, had I only watched. But I let my faith run away with me. ... I wonder.

            6.45. Dinner over, I go on as I am in calm faith and love. Why should I expect a catastrophic effect? Why should not the circumstances of Union with God be compatible with the normal consciousness? Interpenetrating and illuminating it, if you like; but not destroying it. Well, I don't know why it shouldn't be; but I bet it isn't! All the spiritual experience I have had argues against such a theory.
            On the contrary, it will leave the reason quite intact, supreme Lord of its own plane. Mixing up the planes is the sad fate of many a mystic. How many do I know in my own experience who tell me that, obedient to the Heavenly Vision, they will shoot no more rabbits! Thus they found a system on trifles, and their Lord and God is some trumpery little elemental masquerading as the Almighty.
            I remember my Uncle Tom telling me that he was sure God would be displeased to see me in a blue coat on Sunday. And to-day he is surprised and grieved that I do not worship his god --- or even my own tailor, as would be surely more reasonable! {82}

            7.32. How is it that I expect the reward at once? Surely I am presuming on my magical power, which is an active thing, and therefore my passivity is not perfect. Of course, when IT happens, it happens out of time and space --- now or ten years hence it is all the same. All the same to IT; not all the same to me, O.M. So O.M. (the dog!) persists irrationally in wanting IT, here and now. Surely, indeed, it is a lack of faith, a pandering to the time-illusion ... and so forth. Yes, no doubt it is all magically wrong, even magically absurd; yet, though I see the snare, I deliberately walk into it. I suppose I shall be punished somehow ... Good! there's the excuse I wanted. Fear is failure: I must dare to do wrong. Good! 7.50. It has just occurred to me that this Waiting and Watching is the supreme Magical strain. Every slight sound or other impression shocks one tremendously. It is easy enough to shut out sounds and such when one is concentrating in active magic: I did all my early evocations in Chancery Lane. But now one is deliberately opening all the avenues of sense to admit Adonai! One has destroyed one's own Magic Circle. The whole of that great Building is thrown down. ... Therefore I am in a worse hole that I ever was before --- and I've only just realized it. A footfall on the pavement is most acute agony --- because it is not Adonai. My hearing, normally rather dull, is intensely sharpened; and I am thirty yards from the electric trams of the Boulevard Montparnasse at the busiest hour of the evening. ... {83} And the Visconti may turn up! ...
            Eli, Eli, lama sabacthani!

            8.45. I went out to the Dme to drink my final citron press and to avoid the Visconti. Am returned, and in bed. I shall try and sleep now, waking in time for midnight and the quiet hours.

            8.53. I have endured the supreme temptation and assault of the Enemy. In this wise. First, I found that I did not want sleep --- I couldn't stop "Waiting." Next, I said "Since last night that Black Ritual (see entry 10.55) did at least serve to turn all my thoughts to the One Thought, I will try it again ..." Then I said: "No; to do so is not pure 'waiting.'" And then --- as by a flash of lightning --- the Abyss of the Pit opened, and my whole position was turned. I saw my life from the dawn of consciousness till now as a gigantic "pose"; my very love of truth assumed for the benefit of my biographer! All these strange things suffered and enjoyed for no better purpose than to seem a great man. One cannot express the horror of this thought; it is The thought that murders the soul --- and there is no answer to it. So universal is it that it is impossible to prove the contrary. So one must play the man, and master it and kill it utterly, burying it in that putrid hell from which it sprang. Luckily I have dealt with it before. Once when I lived at Paddington J---s and F---r were with me taking, and, when they went, thoughtfully left this devil-thought behind --- the agony is with me yet. {84} That, though, was only a young mild devil, though of the same bad brood. It said: "Is there any Path or Attainment? Have you been fooled all along?" But to-night's thought struck at my own integrity, at the inmost truth of the soul and of Adonai.
            As I said, there is no answer to it; and as these seven days have left me fairly master of the fortress, I caught him young, and assigned him promptly to the oubliette. I put down this --- not as a "pose" --- but because the business is so gigantic. It encourages me immensely; for if my Dweller on the Threshold be that most formidable devil, how vast must be the Pylon that shelters him, and how glorious must be the Temple just beyond!
            9.30. It seems that there was one more mistake to make; for I've made it!
            I started to attempt to awaken the Kundalini --- the magical serpent that sleeps at the base of the spine; coiled in three coils and a half around the Sushumna; and instead of pumping the Prana up and down the Sushumna until Siva was united with Sakti in the Sahasrara-Cakkram, I tried --- God knows why; I'm stupider than an ass or H ... C .... --- to work the whole operation in Muladhara --- with the obvious result. There are only two more idiocies to perform --- one, to take a big dose of Hashish and record the ravings as if they were Samadhi; and two, to go to church. I may as well give up. {85} Yet here answers me the everlasting Yea and Amen: Thou canst not give up, for I will bring thee through. Yet here I lie, stripped of all magic force, doubting my own peace and faith, farther from Adonai than ever before --- and yet --- and yet --- Do I not know that every error is a necessary step in the Path? The longest way round is the shortest way home. But it is disgusting! There's a grim humour in it, too. The real Devil of the Operation must be sitting with sardonic grin upon his face, enjoying my perplexity ---
            For that Dweller-of-the-Threshold-thought was not as dead as I supposed; as I write he comes again and again, urging me to quit the Path, to abandon the unequal contest. Luckily, friend Dweller, you prove too much! Your anxiety shows me that I am not as far from attainment as my own feelings would have me think. At least, though, I am thrown into the active again; I shall rise and chant the Enochian Calls and invoke the Bornless One, and clear a few of the devils away, and get an army of mighty angels around me --- in short, make another kind of fool of myself, I wonder?
            Anyway, I'll do it. Not a bad idea to ask Thoth to send me Taphtatharath with a little information as to the route --- I do not know where I am at all. This is a strange country, and I am very lonely.
            This shall be my ritual.
            

            1. Banishing Pentagram Ritual.
            2. Invoking ditto. [These will appear in No. 2, "Liber O." --- ED.] {86}
               
            3. "The Bornless One." [See the "Goetia." --- ED.]
            4. The Calls I --- VI with the rituals of the five Grades. [From Dr. Dee's and the G.'. D.'. MSS. --- ED.]
               
            5. Invocation of Thoth.
            6. (No: I will "not" use the New Ritual, nor will I discuss the matter.) An impromptu invocation of Adonai.
               
            7. Closing formulae. To work, then! 11.15. The ceremony went well enough; the forces invoked came readily and visibly; Thoth in particular as friendly as ever --- I fancy He takes this record as a compliment to Him --- He's welcome to it, poor God!
               The L.V.X. came, too but not enough to pierce the awful shroud of darkness that by my folly I have woven for myself. So at the end I found myself on the floor, so like Rodin's Cruche Casse Danaide Girl as never was ... As I ought to have been in the beginning! Well, one thing I got (again!), that is, that when all is said and done, I am that I am, and all these thoughts of mine, angels and devils both, are only fleeting moods of me. The one true self of me is Adonai. Simple! Yet I cannot remain in that simplicity.
               I got this "revelation" through the Egyptian plane, a partial illumination of the reason. It has cleared up the mind; but alas! the mind is still there. This is the strength and weakness both of the Egyptian plane, {87} that it is so lucid and spiritual and yet so practical. When I say weakness, I mean that it appeals to my weakness; I am easily content with the smaller results, so that they seduce me from going on to the really big ones. I am quite happy as a result of my little ceremony --- whereas I ought to be taking new and terrible oaths! Yet why should Tahuti be so kind to me, and Asar Un-nefer so unkind? The answer comes direct from Tahuti himself: Because you have learned to write perfectly, but have not yet taught yourself to suffer.
               True enough, the last part!
               Asar Un-nefer, thou perfected One, teach me Thy mysteries! Let my members be torn by Set and devoured by Sebek and Typhon! Let my blood be poured out upon Nile, and my flesh be given to Besz to devour! Let my Phallus be concealed in the maw of Mati, and my Crown be divided among my brethren! Let the jaws of Apep grind me into poison! Let the sea of poison swallow me wholly up!
               Let Asi my mother rend her robes in anguish, and Nepti weep for me unavailing.
               Then shall Asi being forth Hoor, and Heru-pa-kraat shall leap glad from her womb. The Lord of Vengeance shall awaken; Sekhet shall roar, and Pasht cry aloud. Then shall my members be gathered together, and my bonds shall be unloosed; and my khu shall be mighty in Khem for ever and ever! 11.37. I return to he place of the Evil Triad, of Ommo Satan, that is before the altar. There to expiate my folly in {88} attaching myself to all this great concourse of ideas that I have here recorded, instead of remaining fixed in the single stronghold of Unity with Myself.

               11.54. And so this great day draws to its end. These are indeed the Qliphoth, the Qliphoth of Kether, the Thaumiel, twin giant heads that hate and tear each other. For the horror and darkness have been unbelievable; yet again, the light and brilliance have been almost insupportable. I was never so far, and never so near ... But the hour approaches. Let me collect myself, and begin the new day in affirmation of my Unity with my Lord Adonai!

               			       "The Eighth Day"
               

               12.3. Thus the Eighth day, the Second Week, begins. I am in Asana. For some reason or other, Pranayama is quite easy. Concentrating on Adonai, I was in Kambhakham for a whole minute without distress.
               It "is" true, by the way. I was --- and am --- in some danger of looking on this Record as a Book; "i.e.", of emphasising things for their literary effect, and diminishing the importance of others which lend themselves less obviously. But the answer to this, friend Satan! is that the Canon of Art is Truth, and the Canon of Magic is Truth; my true record will make a good book, and my true book will make a good record. {89} " "Ekam evam advaitam!" friend Satan! One and not two. "Hua allahu" "alazi lailaha illa Hua!"
               But what shall by my "considerations" for this week? I am so absolutely become as a pantomorphous Lynx that all things look alike to me; there are just as many pros and cons to Pranayama as to Ceremonial, etc. etc., --- and the pros and cons are so numerous and far reaching that I simply dare not start discussing even one. I can see an endless avenue in every case. In short, like the hashish-drunkard in full blast, I am overwhelmed by the multitude of my own magical Images. I have become the great Magician --- Mayan, the Maker of Illusion --- the Lord of the Brethren of the Left-hand Path.
               I don't "wear my iniquity as an aureole, deathless in Spiritual Evil," as Mr. Waite thinks; but it's nearly as bad as that. There seems only one reply to this great question of the Hunchback (I like to symbolize the spirit of Questioning by "?" --- a little crooked thing that asks questions) and that is to keep on affirming Adonai, and refusing to be obsessed by any images of discipline or magic.
               Of course! but this is just the difficulty --- as it was in the Beginning, is now, and every shall be, world without end! My beautiful answer to the question, How will you become a millionaire? is: I will possess a million pounds. The "answer" is not an answer; it is a begging of the question. What a fool I am! and people think me clever. "Ergo," perhaps! {90}
               Anyhow I will now (12.37) go quietly to sleep --- as I am always saying, and never do when I say it! --- in the hope that daylight may bring counsel.

               7.40. Woke fresh and comfortable. Sleep filled with dreams and broken into short lengths. I ought to observe that this is a very striking result of forging this magic chain; for in my normal life I am one of the soundest sleepers imaginable. Nine solid hours without turning once is my irreducible minimum.

               9.10. Having done an hour's illumination of the New Ritual, will go and break my fast with coffee and a brioche, and thence proceed to Michael Brenner's studio.

               12.15. I have spent the morning in modelling Siddhasana --- a more difficult task than appeared. Rather like THE task! But I went on with the mantra, and made some Reflections upon Kamma.
               I will now have a Yogin coffee and sandwich, and return to my illumination of the Ritual.
               In the desert of my soul, where no herb grows, there is yet one little spring. I am still one-pointed, at least in the lower sense that I have no desire or ambition but this of accomplishing the Great Work.
               Barren is this soul of mine, in these 3 1/2 years of drought (the 3 1/2 coils of the Kundalini are implied by this) and this Ekgrata is the little cloud like a hand (Yod, the Lingam of great Shiva). And, though I catch up my robe and run before the chariot of the King into Jezreel, it may be {91} that before I reach those gates the whole sky may be one black flame of thundercloud, and the violet swords of the lightning may split asunder its heavy womb, and the rain, laughing like a young child, may dance upon the desert!

               12.58. The Light beginneth to dawn upon the Path, so that I see a little better where I stand. This whole journey seems under some other formula than IAO --- perhaps a Pentagram formula with which I am not clearly acquainted. If I knew the Word of the Grade, I could foretell things: but I don't.
               I think I will read through the whole Record to date and see if I can find an Ariadne-clue.

               1.15. Back, and settled to Ritual-painting.

               2.30. Finished: bar frontispiece and colophon, which I can design and execute to-morrow.

               3.0. Took half an hour off, making a silly sketch of a sunset. Will now read through the Record, and Reflect upon it.

               4.15. "Before I was blind; now I see!" Yesterday I was right up to the Threshold, right enough; but got turned back by the Dweller. I did not see the Dweller till afterwards (8.53 entry) for he was too subtle. I will look carefully back to try and spot him; for if I "knew his Name" I could pass by --- "i.e.", next time I climb up to the Threshold of the Pylon.
               I think the entries 1.25 and 3.35 A.M. explain it. "HUGGING MYSELF, AS IT WERE." How fatally {92} accurate! I wrote it and never saw the hellish snare! I ought to have risen up and prepared myself ceremonially as a bride, and waited in the proper magical manner. Also I was too pleased with the Heralds of my Lord's coming --- the vision of Khephra, etc. It was perhaps this subtle self-satisfaction that lost me ... so I fell to the shocking abyss of last night!
               The Dweller of the Threshold is never visible until after one has fallen; he is a Veiled God and smites like the Evil Knight in Malory, riding and slaying --- and no man seeth him. But when you are tumbled headlong into Hell, where he lives, then he unveils his Face, and blasts you with its horror! Very good, John St. John, now you know! You are plain John St. John and you have to climb right up again through the paths to the Threshold; and remember this time to mortify that selfsatisfaction ! Go at it more reverently and humbly --- oh, you dog, how I loathe you for your Vileness! To have risen so high, and --- now --- to be thus fallen!

               4.40. The question arises: how to mortify this self-satisfaction? Asceticism notoriously fosters egoism; how good am I to go without dinner! Now noble! What renunciation! On the other hand,the good wine in one says: "A fine fellow I have made my coffin of!"
               The answer is simple, the old answer: "think not of" {93} "St. John" "and his foolishness; think of Adonai!" Exactly: the one difficulty!
               My best way out will be to concentrate on the New Ritual, learn it perfectly by heart, work it at the right moment. ... I will go, with this idea, to have a Citron press; thence to my Secret Restaurant, and dine, always learning the Ritual. I will leave off the mantra, though it is nearly as much part of me as my head by now; and instead repeat over and over again the words of the Ritual so that I can do it in the end with perfect fluency and comprehension. And this time may Adonai build the House!

               6.10. Instead I met Dr. R---, who kindly offered to teach me how to obtain astral visions! (P.S. --- The tone of this entry wrongs me. I sat patiently and reverently, like a "chela" with his "guru," hoping to hear the Word I needed.) Thence I went my long and lonely walk to my Secret Restaurant, learning the Ritual as I went.

               7.15. Arrived at the Secret Restaurant. Ordered 6 ousters, Rble de Livre poivrade pure de marrons, and Glace "Casserole" with a small bottle of Perrier Water.
               I know the New Ritual down to the end of the Confession. It was hard to stop the mantra --- the moment my thought wandered, up it popped!
               8.3. I shall add Caf Cognac Cigare to this debauch. I continue learning the Ritual.
               8.40. I will return and humble myself before the Lord {94} Adonai. It is near the night of the Full Moon; in my life the Full Moon hath ever been of great augury. But to-night I am too poor in spirit to hope.
               Lo! I was travelling on the paths of Lamed and of Mem, of Justice and the Hanged Man, and I fell into both the pitfalls thereof. Instead of the Great Balance firmly held, I found only Libra, the house of Venus and of the exaltation of Saturn; and these evil planets, smiling and frowning, overcame me. And so for the sublime Path of Man; instead of that symbol of the Adept, his foot set firmly upon heaven, his whole figure showing forth the Reconciler with the Invisible, I found but the stagnant and bitter water of selfishness, the Dead Sea of the Soul. For all is Illusion. Who saith "I" denieth Adonai, save only if he mean Adonai. And Daleth the Door of the Pylon, is that Tree whereon the Adept of Man hangeth, and Daleth is Love Supernal, that if it be inserted in the word ANI, "I," giveth ADNI, Adonai. Subtle art thou and deadly, O Dweller of the Threshold (P.S. --- This name is a bad one. "Dweller beside the Pylon" is a better term; for he is not in the straight path, which is simple and easy and open. He is never "overcome"; to meet him is the proof of having strayed. The Key fits the Door perfectly; but he who is drunken on the bad wine of Sense and Thought fumbles thereat. And of course there is a great deal of door, and very little keyhole), who dost use my very love of Adonai to destroy me! Yet how shall I approach Him, if not with reverent {95} joy, with a delicious awe? I must wash His feet with my tears; I must die at His gateway; I must ... I know not what ... Adonai, be thou tender unto me Thy slave, and keep my footsteps in the Way of Truth! ... I will return and humble myself before the Lord Adonai.

               10.18. Home again; have done odd necessary things, and am ready to work. I feel slack; and I feel that I have been slack, though probably the Record shows a fair amount of work done. But I am terribly bruised by the Great Fall; these big things leave the body and mind no worse, apparently; but they hurt the Self, and later that is reflected into the lower parts of the man as insanity or death.
               I must attain, or ... an end of John St. John. An end of him, one way or the other, then! Good-bye, John!

               10.30. Ten minutes wasted in sheer mooning! I'm getting worse every minute.

               10.40. Fooled away ten minutes more!

               10.57. Humiliation enough! For though I made the cross with Blood and Flame, I cannot even remain concentrated in humiliation, which yet I feel so acutely. What a wormy worm I am! I tried the new strict Siddhasana, only to find that I had hurt myself so this morning with it that I cannot bear it at all, even with the pillow to support the instep.
               I will just try and do a little Pranayama, to see if I can {96} stay doing any one simple thing for ten minutes at a stretch!

               11.30. Twenty-five Breath-Cycles ... But it nearly killed me. I was saying over the Ritual, and did so want to get to the Formulation of the Hexagram at least, if not to the Reception. As it was, I broke down during the Passage of the Pylons, luckily not till I had reached that of Tahuti.
               But it is a good rule; when in doubt play Pranayama. For one can no longer worry about the Path: the Question is reduced to the simple problem: Am, I, or am I not, going to burst? I got all the sweating and trembling of the body that heart could desire; but no "jumping about like a frog" or levitation. A pity!

               11.45. I shall read for a little in the Yoga-Shastra as a rest. Then for the end of the day and the Beginning of the Ninth Day. Zoroaster (or Pythagoras?) informs us that the number Nine is sacred, and attains the summit of Philosophy. I'm sure I hope so!

               11.56. I get into Asana ... and so endeth the Eighth Lesson.

               				 "The Ninth Day"
               

               12.2. Thus I began this great day, being in my Asana firm and easy, and holding in my breath for a full minute while I threw my will with all my might towards Adonai.

               12.19. Have settled myself for the night. Will continue a little, learning the Ritual. {97}

               12.37. Having learnt a few passages of a suitable nature to go to sleep upon, I will do so.
               ... Now I hope that I shall; surely the Reaction of Nature against the Magical Will must be wearing down at last!

               2.12. I wake. It takes me a little while to shake off the dominion of sleep, very intense and bitter.

               3.4. Thus John St. John --- for it is not convenient further to speak as "I" --- performed 45 Breath-cycles; for 20 minutes he had to struggle against the Root of the Powers of Sleep, and the obstruction of his left nostril.
               During his Kambhakham he willed Adonai with all his might. Let him sleep, invoking Adonai!

               5.40. Well hath he slept, and well awakened. The last entry should extend to 3.30 or thereabouts; probably later; for, invoking Adonai, he again got the beginnings of the Light, and the "telephone-cross" voices very strongly. But this time he was fortunately able to concentrate on Adonai with some fervour, and these things ceased to trouble. But the Perfume and the Vision came not, nor any full manifestation of the L.V.X., the Secret Light, the light that shineth in darkness. John St. John is again very sleepy. He will try and concentrate on Adonai without doing Pranayama --- much harder of course. It is a supreme effort to keep both eyes open together. {98} He must do his best. He does not wish to wake too thoroughly, either, lest afterward he oversleep himself, and miss his appointment with Michael Brenner to continue moulding Siddhasana.

               7.45. Again I awake. ... [O swine! thou hast felt in thyself "Good! Good! the night is broken up nicely; all goes very well" --- and thou hast written "I!" O swine, John St. John! When wilt thou learn that the least stirring of thy smug content is the great Fall from the Path?]
               It will be best to get up and do some kind of work; for the beast would sleep.

               8.25. John St. John has arisen, after doing 20 breath-cycles, reciting internally the ritual, 70 per cent. of which he now knows by heart.

               8.35. To the Dme --- a caf-croissant. Some proofs to correct during the meal.

               10.25. Having walked over to the studio reciting the Ritual (9.25-9.55 approximately), John St. John got into his pose, and began going for the gloves. The Interior Trembling began, and the room filled with the Subtle Light. He was within an ace of Concentration; the Violet Lotus of Ajna appeared, flashing like some marvellous comet; the Dawn began to break, as he slew with the Lightning-Flash every thought that arose in him, especially this Vision of Ajna; but fear --- dread fear! --- gripped his heart. Annihilation stood before him, annihilation of John St. John that he had {99} so long striven to obtain: yet he dared not. He had the loaded pistol to his head; he could not pull the trigger. This must have gone on for some time; his agony of failure was awful; for he knew that he was failing; but though he cried a thousand times unto Adonai with the Voice of Death, he could not --- he could not. Again and again he stood at the gate, and could not enter. And the Violet Flames of Ajna triumphed over him.
               Then Brenner said: "Let us take a little rest!" --- oh irony! --- and he came down from his throne, staggering with fatigue. ... If you can conceive all his anger and despair! His pen, writing this, forms a letter badly, and through clenched teeth he utters a fierce curse.
               Oh Lord Adonai, look with favour upon him!

               11.30. After five minutes rest (to the body, that is), John St. John was too exhausted on resuming his pose, which, by the way, happens to be the Sign of the Grade 7x = 4x, to strive consciously. But his nature itself, forced through these days into the one channel of Will towards Adonai, went on struggling on its own account. Later, the conscious man took heart and strove, though not so fiercely as before. He passed through the Lightnings of Ajna, whose two petals now spread out like wings above his head, and the awful Corona of the Interior Sun with its flashing fires appeared, and declared itself to be his Self. This he rejected; and the Formless Ocean of {100} White Brilliance absorbed him, overcame him; for he could not pass therethrough. This went on repeating itself, the man transformed (as it were) into a mighty Battering Ram hurling itself again and again against the Walls of the City of God to breach them. --- And as yet he has failed. Failed. Failed. Physical and mental exhaustion are fairly complete.
               Adonai, look with favour upon Thy slave!

               12.20. He has walked, reciting the Ritual, to Dr. R--- and H--- for lunch. They have forgotten the appointment, so he continues and reaches Lavenue's at 12.4 after reading his letters and doing one or two necessary things. He orders Epinards, Tarte aux Fraises, Glace au Caf, and 1/2 Evian. The distaste for food is great; and for meat amounts to loathing. The weather is exceedingly hot; it may be arranged thus by Adonai to enable John St. John to meditate in comfort. For he is vowed solemnly "to interpret every phenomenon as a particular dealing of God with his soul."

               12.50. During lunch he will go on correcting his proofs.

               1.35. Lunch over, and the proofs read through.

               1.45. He will make a few decorations further in his Ritual, and perhaps design the Fontispiece and Colophon. He is very weary, and may sleep.

               2.25. He has done the illumination, as far as may be. He will now lie down as Hanged Man, and invoke Adonai. {101}

               4.45. He was too tired to reach nearer than the neighbourhood of that tremendous Threshold; wherefore he fell from meditation into sleep, and there his Lord gave him sweet rest thereof. He will arise, and take a drink --- a citron press --- at the Dme; for the day is yet exceeding hot, and he has had little.

               4.53. One ought to remark that all this sleep is full extravagant dreams; rarely irrational and never (of course) unpleasant, or one would be up and working with a circle every night. But O.M. thinks that they show an excited and unbalanced condition of John St. John's brain, though he is almost too cowed to express an opinion at all, even were the question, Is grass green? Every small snatch of sleep, without exception, in the last three or four days, has these images.
               The ideal condition seems likely to be perfect oblivion --- or (in the Adept) is the Tamo-Guna, the Power of elemental Darkness, broken once and for ever, so that His sleep is vivid and rational as another man's waking; His waking another man's Samadhi; His Samadhi --- to which He ever strives ---- ????? At least this later view is suggested by the Rosicrucian formula of Reception:

               		    May	thy mind be open unto the Higher!
               		    May	thy heart be the Centre	of Light!
               		    May	thy body be the	Temple of the Rosy Cross!
               

               and by the Hindu statement that in the attained Yogin {102} the Kundalini sleeps in the Svadistthana, no more in the Muladhara Cakkrm.
               See also the Rosicrucian lecture on the Microcosmos, where this view is certainly upheld, the Qliphoth of an Adept being balanced and trained to fill his Malkuth, vacated by the purified Nephesch which has gone up to live in Tiphereth. Or so O.M. read it.
               The other idea of the Light descending and filling each principle with its glory is, it seems to him, less fertile, and less in accord with any idea of Evolution.
               (What would Judas McCabbage think?)
               And one can so readily understand how tremendous a task is that of the postulant, since he has to glorify and initiate all his principles and train them to their new and superior tasks. This surely explains better the terrible dangers of the path. ... Some years back, on the Red River in China, John St. John saw at every corner of that swift and dangerous stream a heap of wreckage.
               ... He, himself in danger, thought of his magical career. Alcoholism, insanity, disease, faddism, death, knavery, prison --- every earthly hell, reflection of some spiritual blunder, had seized his companions. By dozens had that band been swept away, dashed to pieces on one rock or another. He, alone almost upon that angry stream, still held on, his life each moment the plaything of giant forces, so enormous as to be (once they were loose) quite out of proportion to all human wit or courage or address --- and he held on his course, humbly, {103} not hopelessly, not fearfully, but with an abiding certainty that he would endure unto the end.
               And now?
               In this great Magical Retirement he has struck many rocks, sprung many leaks; the waters of the False Sea foam over the bow, ride and carry the quarter --- is he perchance already wrecked, his hopeless plight concealed from him as yet by his own darkness? For, dazzled as he is by the blinding brilliance of this morning's Spiritual Sun, which yet he beheld but darkly, to him now even the light of earth seems dark. Reason the rudder was long since unshipped; the power of his personality has broken down, yet under the tiny storm-sail of his Will to Adonai, the crazy bark holds way, steered by the oar of Discipline --- Yea, he holds his course. Adonai! Adonai! is not the harbour yet in sight?

               6.7. He has returned home and burnt (as every night since its arrival) the holy incense of Abramelin the Mage. The atmosphere is full of vitality, sweetened and strengthened; the soul naturally and simply turns to the holy task with vigour and confidence; the black demons of doubt and despair flee away; one respires already a foretaste of the Perfume, and obtains almost a premonition of the Vision.
               So, let the work go on.

               6.23. 7 Breath-cycles, rather difficult. Clothes are a nuisance, and make all the difference.

               6.31. John St. John is more broken up by this morning's {104} failure than he was ready to admit. But the fact stands; he cannot concentrate his mind for three seconds together. How utterly hopeless it makes one feel! One thinks one is at least always good for a fair average performance --- and one is undeceived. This, by the way, is the supreme use of a record like this. It makes it impossible to cheat oneself. Well, he has got to get up more steam somehow, though the boiler bursts. Perhaps early dinner, with Ritual, may induce that Enthusiastic Energy of which the Gnostics write. This morning the whole Sankhara-dhatu (the tendency of the being John St. John) was operating aright. Now by no effort of will can he flog his tired cattle along the trail. So poor a thing is he that he will even seek an Oracle from the book of Zoroaster.
               Done. Zoroaster respectfully wishes to point out that "The most mystic of discourses informs us --- his wholeness is in the Supra-Mundane Order; for there a Solar World and Boundless light subsist, as the Oracles of the Chaldeans affirm." Not very helpful, is it?
               As if divination could ever help on such exalted planes! As if the trumpery elementals that operate these things possessed the Secrets of the Destiny of an Adept, or could help him in his agony!
               For this reason, divination should be discarded from the start: it is only a "mere toy, the basis of mercenary fraud" as Zoroaster more practically assures us. {105} Yet one can get the right stuff out of the Tarot (or other inconvenient method) by spiritualising away all the meaning, until the intuition pierces that blank wall of ignorance. Let O.M. meditate upon this Oracle on his way to feed John St. John's body --- and thus feed his own!

               6.52. Out, out, to feed!

               6.57. Trimming his beard in preparation for going out, he reflects that the deplorable tone (as one's Dean would say) of the last entry is not the cry of the famished beast, but that of the over-driven slave.
               "Adonai, ply Thou thy scourge! Adonai, load Thou the chain!"

               7.25. What the devil is the matter with the time? The hours flit just like butterflies --- the moon, dead full, shines down the Boulevard. My moon --- full moon of my desire! (Ha, ha, thou beast! are "I and Me and Mine" not dead yet?) Yea, Lord Adonai! but the full moon means much to John St. John; he fears ("fears," O Lord of the Western Pylon!) lest, of once that full moon pass, he may not win through. ... "The harvest is over, the summer is ended, and we are not saved!" Yet hath not Abramelin lashed the folly of limiting the spiritual paths by the motions of the planets? And Zoroaster, in that same oracle just quoted?

               7.35. Hors d'OEuvres, Bouillabaisse, contrefilet rti, Glace. 1/2 Graves. {106}

               The truth is that the Chittam is excited and racing, the control being impaired; and the Ego is springing up again.

               7.50. This racing of the Chittam is simply shocking. John St. John must stop it somehow. Hours and hours seem to have passed since the last entry.

               7.57. !!! He is in such a deuce of a hurry that (in a lucid moment) he finds himself trying to eat bread, radish, beef and potato at a mouthful.
               Worse, the beast is pleased and excited at the novelty of the sensation, and takes delight in recording it. Beast! Beast!

               8.3. !!!! After myriads of aeons. He has drunk only about one third of his half-bottle of light white wine; yet he's like a hashishdrunkard, only more so. The loss of the time-sense which occurs with hashish he got during his experiments with that drug in 1906, but in an unimportant way. (Damn him! he is so glad. He calls this a Result. A result! Damn him!) O.M. who writes this is so angry with him that he wants to scrawl the page over with the most fearful curses! and John St. John has nearly thrown a bottle at the waiter for not bringing the next course. He will not be allowed to finish his wine! He orders cold water.

               8.12. Things a little better. But he tries 100 small muscular movements, pressing on the table with his fingers in tune, and finds the tendency to hurry almost irresistible. This record is here written at lightning speed. ... Attempt to write slowly is painful. {107}

               8.20. The thought too, is wandering all over the world. Since the last entry, very likely, the beast has not thought even once of Adonai.

               8.35. The Reading of the Ritual has done much service, though things are still far from calm. Yet the mighty flood of the Chittam is again rolling its tremendous tide toward the sea --- the Sea of annihilation. Amen.

               9.0. Returning home, with his eyes fixed on the supreme glory of the Moon, in his heart and brain invoking Adonai, he hath now entered into his little chamber, and will prepare all things for the due performance of the New Ritual which he hath got by heart.

               9.35. Nearly ready. In a state of very intense magical strain --- anything might happen.

               9.48. Washed, robed, temple in order. Will wait until 10 o'clock and begin upon the stroke. O.M. 7x = 4x will begin; and then solemnly renounce all his robes, weapons, dignities, etc., renouncing his grades even by giving the Signs of them backwards and downwards toward the outer. He will keep only one thing, the Secret Ring that hath been committed unto him by the Masters; for from that he cannot part, even if he would. That is his Password into the Ritual itself; and on his finger it shall be put at the moment when all else is gone.

               11.5. Ceremony works admirably. Magical Images strong. At Reception behold! the Sigil of the Supreme Order itself in a blaze of glory not to be spoken of. And the half-seen symbol of my Lord Adonai therewith as a mighty angel glittering with infinite light. {108} According the the Ritual, O.M. withdrew himself from the Vision; the Vision of the Universe, a whirling abyss of coruscating suns in all the colours, yet informed and dominated by that supernal brilliance. Yet O. M. refused the Vision; and a conflict began and was waged through many ages --- so it seemed. And now all the enemies of O. M. banded themselves against him. The petty affairs of the day; even the irritations of his body, the emotions of him, the plans of him, worry about the Record and the Ritual and --- O! everything! --- then, too, the thoughts which are closer yet to the great Enemy, the sense of separateness; that sense itself at last --- so O. M. withdrew from the conflict for a moment so that the duty of this Record done might leave him free for the fight.
               It may have been a snare --- may the Lord Adonai keep him in the Path.
               Adonai! Adonai!
               (P.S. --- Add that the "ultra-violet" or "astral" light in the room was such that it seemed bright as daylight. He hath never seen the like, even in the ceremony which he performed in the Great Pyramid of Gizeh.)

               11.14- O. M. then passed from vision unto vision of unexampled 11.34. splendour. The infinite abyss of space, a rayless orb of liquid and colourless brilliance fading beyond the edges into a flame of white and gold. ... The Rosy Cross flashing with lustre ineffable. ... and more, much more which ten scribes could hardly catalogue in a century. {109}
               The Vision of the Holy Guardian Angel itself; yet was He seen as from afar, not intimately. ...
               Therefore is O. M. not content with all this wonder; but will now orderly close the temple, that at the Beginning of the Tenth Day --- and Ten are the Holy Sephiroth, the Emanations of the Crown; Blessed be He! ... He may make new considerations of this Operation whereby he may discover through what error he is thus betrayed again and again into failure. Failure. Failure.

               11.49. The Temple is closed.
               Now the, O Lord Adonai! Let the Tenth Day be favourable unto O. M. For in the struggle he is as nothing worth. Nor valiant, nor fortunate, nor skilful --- except Thou fight by his side, cover his breast with Thy shield, second his blows with Thy spear and with Thy sword.
               Aye! let the Ninth Day close in silence and in darkness, and let O.M. be found watching and waiting and willing Thy Presence. Adonai! Adonai! O Lord Adonai! Let Thy Light illumine the Path of that darkling wight John St. John, that being who, separate from Thee, is separate from all

               Light, Life, Love.

               Adonai! Adonai! let it be written of O. M. that "The Lord Adonai is about him like a thunderbolt and like a Pylon and like a Serpent and like a Phallus --- and in the midst thereof like the Woman that jetteth the Milk {110} of the Stars from Her paps; yea, the Milk of the Stars from Her paps."

               			       "The Tenth Day"
               

               12.17. Now that the perfume of the incense is clearly away, one may most potently perceive the Invoked Perfume of the Ceremony Itself. And this mystical perfume of Adonai is like pure Musk, but infinitely subtilised --- far stronger, and at the same time far more delicate.
               (P.S. --- Doubt has arisen about this perfume, as to whether there was not a commonplace cause. On the balance of the evidence, carefully considered, one would pronounce for the mystic theory.)
               One should add a curious omen. On sitting down for the great struggle (11.14) John St. John found a nail upon the floor, at his feet. Now a nail is Vau in Hebrew, and the Tarot Trump corresponding to Vau is the Hierophant or Initiator --- whereby is O. M. greatly comforted.
               So poor a thing hath he become!
               Even as a little child groping feebly for the breast of its mother, so gropeth Thy little child after Thee, O thou SelfGlittering One!

               12.55. He hath read through Days VIII. and IX. ... He is too tired to understand what he reads. He will, despite of all, do a little Pranayama, and then sleep, ever willing Adonai.
               For Pranayama with its intense physical strain is a great medicine for the mind. Even as the long trail of the desert and the life with the winds and the stars, {111} the daily march and its strife with heat, thirst, fatigue, cure all the ills of the soul, so does Pranayama clear away the phantoms that Mayan, dread maker of Illusion, hath cumbered it withal.

               1.13. 10 Breath-Cycles; calm, perfect, without the least effort; enough to go to sleep upon.
               He will read through the Ritual once, and then sleep. (The Pranayama precipitated a short attack of diarrhoea, started by the chill of the Ceremony.)

               6.23. He slept from 1.45 (approximately) till now. The morn is cold and damp; rain has fallen.
               John St. John is horribly tired; the "control" is worn to a thread. He takes five minutes to make up his mind to go through with it, five more to wash and write this up. And he has a million excuses for not doing Pranayama.

               6.51. 15 Breath-cycles, steady and easy enough. The brain is cool and lucid; but no energy is in it. At least no Sammavyamo. And at present the Superscription on John St. John's Cross is

               			     FAILURE.
               

               Marvellous and manifold as are his results, he hath renounced them and esteemeth them as dross. ... This is right, John St. John! yet how is it that there is place for the great hunchbacked devil to whisper in thine ear the doubt: Is there in truth any mystic path at all? Is it all disappointment and illusion? And the "Poor Thing" John St. John moves off {112} shivering and sad, like a sot who has tried to get credit at a tavern and is turned away --- and that on Christmas Eve! There is no money in his purse, no steam in his boilers --- that's what's the matter with John St. John. It is clear enough, what happened yesterday. He failed at the four Pylons in turn; in the morning Fear stopped him at that of Horus and so on; while in the evening he either failed at the Pylon of Thoth, "i.e.", was obsessed by the necessity (alleged) of recording his results, or failed to overcome the duality of Thoth. Otherwise, even if he comprehended the base, he certainly failed at the apex of the Pyramid.
               In any case, he cannot blame the Ceremony, which is most potent; one or two small details may need correction, but no more. Here then he is down at the bottom of the hill again, a Rosicrucian Sisyphus with the Stone of the Philosophers! An Ixion bound to the Wheel of Destiny and of the Samsara, unable to reach the centre, where is Rest.
               He must add to the entry 1.13 that the "telephone-cross" voices came as he composed himself to sleep, in the Will to Adonai. This time he detached a body of cavalry to chase them to oblivion. Perhaps an unwise division of his forces; yet he was so justly indignant at the eternal illusions that he may be excused.
               Excused! To whom? Thou must succeed or fail! O Batsman, with thy frail fortress of Three-in-One, the Umpire cries "Out"; and thou explainest to thy friends {113} in the pavilion. But thy friends have heard that story before, and thy explanation will not appear in the score. "Mr. J. St. John, b. Maya," 0, they will read in the local newspaper. There is no getting away from that! Failure! Failure! Failure!
               Now then let me (7.35) take the position of the Hanged Man and invoke Adonai.

               9.0. Probably sleep returned shortly. Not a good night, through dreamless, so far as memory serves.
               The rain comes wearily down, not chasing the dryness, but soddening the streets.
               The rain of autumn, not the rain of spring! So is it in this soul, Lord Adonai. The thought of Thee is heavy and uneasy, flabby and loose, like an old fat woman stupid-drunk in her slum; which was as a young maiden in a field of lilies, arrow-straight, sun-strong, moon-pure, a form all litheness and eagerness, dancing, dancing for her own excess of life. Adonai! Adonai!

               9.17. Rose, dressed, etc., reflecting on the Path. Blinder than ever! The brain is in revolt; it has been compressed too long. Yet it is impossible to rest. It is too late. The Irresistible God, whose name is Destiny, has been invoked, and He hath answered. The matter is in His hands; He must end it, either with that mighty spiritual Experience which I have sought, or else with black madness, or with death. By the Body of God, swear thou that death would come --- welcome, welcome, welcome! {114} And to Thee, and from Thee, O thou great god Destiny, there is no appeal. Thou turnest not one hair's breadth from Thy path appointed.
               That which "John St. John" "means" (else is it a blank name) is that which he must be --- and what is that? The issue is with Thee --- cannot one wait with fortitude, whether it be for the King's Banqueting-House or for the Headsman and the Block?

               9.45. Breakfast --- croissant, sandwich, 2 coffees. Concentrating "off" the Work as well as possible.

               10.10. Arrived at Brenner's studio. The rest has produced one luminous idea: why not end it all with destruction? Say a great ritual of Geburah, curses, curses, curses! John St. John ought not to have forgotten how to curse. In his early days at Wastdale Head people would travel miles to hear him! Curse all the Gods and all the demons --- all those things in short which go to make up John St. John. For "that" --- as he now knows --- is the Name of the great Enemy, the Dweller upon the Threshold. It was that mighty spirit whose formless horror beat him back, for it was he!
               So now to return to concentration and the Will toward Adonai.

               10.20. One thing is well; the vow of "interpreting every phenomenon as a particular dealing of God with my soul" is keeping itself. Whatever impression reaches the consciousness is turned by it into a symbol or a simile of the Work. {115}

               11.18. The pose over; recited Ritual, now known by heart; then willed Adonai; hopelessly unconcentrated.
               ... To interpret this Record aright, it must, however, be understood that the "Standard of Living" goes up at an incredible rate. The same achievement would, say five days ago, have been entered as "High degree of concentration; unhoped-for success." The phenomena which to-day one dismisses with annoyed contempt are the same which John St. John worked four years continuously to attain, and when attained seemed almost to outstrip the possible of glory. The flood of the Chittam is again being heaped up by the dam of Discipline. There is less headache, and more sense of being on the Path --- that is the only way one finds of expressing it.

               11.45. Worse and worse; though pose even better held. In despair returned to a simple practice, the holding of the mind to a single imagined object; in this case the Triangle surmounted by the Cross. It seems quite easy to do nowadays; why shouldn't it lead to the Result? It used to be supposed to do so. Might be worth trying anyway; things can hardly be worse than they are.
               Or, one might go over to the Hammam, and have a long bath and sleep --- but who can tell whether it would refresh, or merely destroy the whole edifice built up so laboriously in these ten days?

               12.15. At Panthon. 1/2 dozen Marennes, Rognons Brochette, Lait chaud. {116}
               John St. John is aching all over, cannot get comfortable anyhow; is hungry, and has no appetite; thirsty, and loathes the thought of drinking!
               He must do something --- something pretty drastic, or he will find himself in serious trouble of body and mind, the shadows of his soul, that is sick unto death. For "where are now their gods?" Where is the Lord, the Lord Adonai?

               12.35. The beast feels decidedly better; but whether he is more concentrated one may doubt. Honestly, he is now so blind that he cannot tell!
               Perhaps a "caf, cognac, et cigare" may tune him up to the point of either going back to work, or across Paris to the Hammam. He will make the experiment, reading through his proofs the while.
               One good thing; the Chittam is moving slowly. The waiters all hurry him --- what a contrast to last night!

               1.15. Proofs read through again. John St. John feels far from well.

               2.15. A stroll down the Boul' Mich' and a visit to M---'s studio improve matters a good deal.

               3.30. The cure continued. No worry about the Work, but an effort to put it altogether out of the mind.
               A caf crme, forty minutes at the Academie Marcelle --- a gruelling bout without gloves --- and J. St. J. is at the Luxembourg to look at the pretty pictures.

               3.40. The proof of the pudding, observes the most mystic of discourses (surely!), is in the Eating. {117}
               One might justly object to any Results of this Ten days' strain. But if abundant health and new capacity to do great work be the after-effect, who then will dare to cast a stone? Not that it matters a turnip-top to the Adept himself. But others may be deterred from entering the Path by the foolish talk of the ignorant, and thus may flowers be lost that should go to make the fadeless wreath of Adonai. Ah, Lord, pluck "me" up utterly by the root, and set that which Thou pluckest as a flower upon thy brow!

               4.10. Walked back to the Dme to drink a citron press through the lovely gardens, sad with their fallen leaves. Reflecting on what Dr. Henry Maudsley once wrote to him about mysticism "Like other bad habits (he might have said 'Like all living beings') it grows by what it fees on." Most important, then, to use the constant critical check on all one's work. The devotion to Adonai might itself fall under suspicion, where it not for the definition of Adonai.
               Adonai is that thought which informs and strengthens and purifies, supreme sanity in supreme genius. Anything that is not that is not Adonai.
               Hence the refusal of all other Results, however glorious; for they are all relative, partial, impure. Anicca, Dukkha, Anatta: Change, sorrow, Unsubstantiality; these are their characteristics, however much they may appear to be Atman, Sat, Chit, Ananda, Soul, Being, Knowledge, Bliss. But the main consideration was one of expediency. {118} Has not John St. John possibly been stuffing himself both with Methods and Results?
               Certainly this morning was more like the engorgement of the stomach with too much food than like the headache after a bout of drunkenness.
               A less grave fault, by far; it is easy and absurd to get a kind of hysterical ecstasy over religion, love, or wine. A German will take off his hat and dance and jodel to the sunrise --- and nothing comes of it! Darwin studies Nature with more reverence and enthusiasm, but without antics --- and out comes the Law of Evolution. So it is written "By their fruits ye shall know them." But about this question of spiritual overfeeding --- what did Darwin do when he got to the stage (as he did, be sure! many a time) when he wished every pigeon in the world at the devil! Now this wish has never really arisen in John St. John; however bad he feels, he always feels that Attainment is the only possible way out of it. This is the good Karma of his ten years' constant striving.
               Well, in the upshot, he will get back to Work at once, and hope that his few hours in the world may prove a true strategic movement to the rear, and not a euphemism for rout! 5.4. There are further serious considerations to be made concerning Adonai. This title for the Unknown Thought was adopted by O. M. in November, 19--, in Upper Burma, on the occasion of his passing through the ordeal and receiving the grade which should be really attributed to Daath (on account of its nature, the {119} Mastery of the Reason), though it is commonly called 7x = 4x. It appeared to him at that period that so much talk and time were wasted on discussing the nature of the Attainment --- a discussion foredoomed to failure, in the absence of all Knowledge, and in view of the Self-Contradictory Nature of the Reasoning Faculty, as applied to Metaphysics --- that it would be wiser to drop the whole question, and concentrate on a simple Magical Progress.
               The Next Step for humanity in general was then "the Knowledge and Conversation of the Holy Guardian Angel." One thing at a time.
               But here he finds himself discussing and disputing with himself the nature of that Knowledge.
               Better far act as hitherto, and aspire simply and directly, as one person to another, careless of the critical objections (quite insuperable, of course) to this or any other conception. For as this experience transcends reason, it is fruitless to argue about it.
               Adonai, I invoke Thee!
               Simpler, then, to go back to the Egoistic diction, only remembering always that by "I" is meant John St. John, or O. M., or Adonai according to the context.
               5.30. Having read some of THE Books to induct myself again into the Work.
               Therefore will I kindle the holy Incense, and turn myself again to the One Thought. {120}

               6.27. All this time in Hanged Man position, and thinking of everything else.
               As bad as it was on the very first day!

               7.10. More waste time aimlessly watching a poker game. Walked down to Caf de Versailles. Dinner. Hors d'OEuvre, Escargots, Cassoulet de Castelnaudry, Glace, 1/2 Evian. Am quite washed-out. I have not even the courage of despair. There is not enough left in me to despair.
               I don't care.

               7.35. One gleam of light illumines the dark path --- I can't enjoy my dinner. The snails, as I prong them forth, are such ugly, slimy, greasy black horrors --- oh! so like my soul! ... Ugh! I write a letter to F---r and sign myself with a broken pentagram.
               It makes me think of a "busted flush." ... But through all the sunlight peeps: "e.g.", These six snails were my six inferior souls; the seventh, the real soul, cannot be eaten by the devourer.
               How's that for high?

               8.3. Possibly a rousing mantra would fix things up; say the Old Favorite:

               			      Aum Tat Sat Aum
               

               and give the Hindus a chance.
               We can but try.
               So I begin at once.

               9.10. This is past all bearing. Another hour wasted chatting to Nina and H---. The mantra hardly remembered {121} at all. I have gone to bed, and shall take things in hand seriously, if it kills me.

               9.53. Since 9.17 have done Pranayama, though allowing myself some irregularities in the way of occasional omission of a Kambhakham. 'Tis very hard to stick to it. I find myself, at the end of above sentence, automatically crawling into bed. No John!

               10.14 Have been trying to extract some sense from that extraordinary treatise on mysticism, "Konx Om Pax." Another failure, but an excusable one. I will now beseech Adonai as best I may to give me back my lost powers.
               For I am no more even a magician! So lost am I in the illusions that I have made in the Search for Adonai, that I am become the vilest of them all!

               10.27. A strange and unpleasant experience. My thought suddenly transmuted itself into a muscular cry, so that my legs gave a violent jerk. This I expect is at bottom the explanation of the Bhuchari-Siddhi. A very bad form of uncontrolled thought. I was on the edge of sleep; it woke me.
               The fact is, all is over! I am done! I have tried for the Great Initiation and I have failed: I am swept away into strange hells. Lord Adonai! let the fires be informing; let them "balance, assain assoil."
               I suppose this rash attempt will end in Locomotor Ataxia or G. P. I. {122}
               Let it! I'm going on.

               11.47. The first power to return is the power to suffer. The shame of it! The torture of it! I slept in patches as a man sleeps that is deadly ill. I am only afraid of failing to wake for the End of the day. God! what a day!
               ...I dare not trust my will to keep me awake; so I rise, wash, and will walk about till time to get into my Asana. Thirst! Oh how I thirst!
               I had not thought that there could be such suffering.

               "The Eleventh Day"

               12.19. It seems a poor thing to be proud of, merely to be awake. Yet I was flushed with triumph as a boy that wins his first race. The powers of Asana and Pranayama return. I did 21 Breath-cycles without fatigue.
               Energy returns, and Keenness to pursue the Path --- all fruits of that one little victory over sleep.
               How delicate are these powers, so simple as they seem! Let me be very humble, now and for every more! Surely at least that lesson has been burnt into me.
               And how gladly I would give all these powers for the One Power!

               12.33. Another smart attack of diarrhoea. I take 4 gr. Plumb c. Opio and alter my determination to stay out of bed all night, as chill is doubtless the chief cause.
               ... It is really extraordinary how the smallest success {123} awakes a monstrous horde of egoistic devils, vain, strutting peacocks, preening and screaming!
               This is simply damnable. Egoism is the spur of all energy, in a way; and in this particular case it is the one thing that is not Adonai (whatever else may be) and so the antithesis of the Work. Bricks without straw, Indeed! That's nothing to it. This job is like being asked to judge a Band contest and being told that one may do anything but listen. Only worse! One could form some idea of how they were playing through other senses; in this case " "every" faculty is the enemy of the Work. At first sight the problem seems insoluble. It may be so, for me. At least, I have not solved it. Yet I have come very near it, many a time, of old; have solved it indeed, though in a less important sense than now I seek. I am not to be content with little or with much; but only with the Ultimate Attainment.
               Apparently the method is just this; to store up --- no matter how --- great treasures of energy and purity, until they begin to do the work themselves (in the way that the Hindus call Sukshma). Just so the engineer --- five feet six in his boots --- and his men build the dam. The snows melt on the mountains, the river rises, and the land is irrigated, in a way that is quite independent of the physical strength of that Five foot Six of engineer. The engineer might even be swept away and drowned by the forces he had himself organized. So also the Kingdom of Heaven. {124}
               And now (12.57) John St. John will turn himself to sleep, invoking Adonai.

               1.17. Can neither sleep nor concentrate. Instead grotesque "astral" images of a quite base gargoylish type.
               I suppose I shall have to pentagram them off like a damned neophyte.
               " "Je m'emmerde!"

               3.8. Praise the Lord, I wake! If that can be called waking which is a mere desperate struggle to keep the eyes open.

               3.18. Pranayama all wrong --- very difficult. Rose, washed, drank a few drops of water. (N.B. --- To-night have drunk several times, a mouthful at a time; other nights, and days, no. All entries into body recorded duly.)

               3.30. Have done 10 Breath-Cycles; am quite awake. It will therefore now be lawful again to sleep.

               8.12. Awoke at 7.40, read a letter which arrived, and tried quite vainly to concentrate.

               8.52. Have risen, written a letter. Will break my fast --- caf croissant --- and go a walk with the New Mantra, using my recently invented method of doing Pranayama on the march. The weather is again perfect.

               9.14. Breakfast --- eaten Yogin-wise --- at an end. The walk begins.

               11.15. The walk over. Kept mantra going well enough. {125} Made also considerations concerning the Nature of the Path. The upshot is that it does not matter. Acquire full power of Concentration; the rest is only leather and prunella. Don't worry; work!
               I shall now make a pantacle to aid the said faculty of concentration.
               The Voice of the Nadi (by the way) is resounding well, and the Chittam is a little better under control. 1.5. Have worked well on the Pantacle, thinking of Adonai. Of course we are now reduced to a "low anthropomorphic conception" --- but what odds? Once the Right Thought comes it will transcend any and all conceptions. The objection is as silly as the objection to illustrating Geometry by Diagrams, on the ground that printed lines are thick --- and so on.
               This is the imbecility of the "Protestant" objection to images. What fools these mortals be!
               The Greeks, too, after exhausting all their sublimest thoughts of Zeus and Hades and Poseidon, found that they could not find a fitting image of the All, the supreme --- so they just carved a goat-man, saying: Let this represent Pan! Also in the holiest place of the most secret temple there is an empty shrine.
               But whoso goes there in the first instance thinks; There is no God.
               He who goes there at the End, when he has adored all the other deities, knoweth that No God. {126}
               So also I go through all the Ritual, and try all the Means; at the End it may be I shall find No rituals and No means, but an act or a silence so simple that it cannot be told or understood. Lord Adonai, bring me to the End!

               1.25. After writing above, and adding a few touches to the Pantacle, am ready to go to lunch.

               1.45. Arrived at Panthon, with mantra. Rumpsteak aux pommes souffles, poire, 1/2 Evian, and the three Cs.
               Was meditating on asceticism. John Tweed once told me that Swami Vivekananda, towards the end of his life, wrote a most pathetic letter deploring that his sanctity forbad his "going on the bust."
               What a farce is such sanctity! How much wiser for the man to behave as a man, the God as a God!
               This is my real bed-rock objection to the Eastern systems. They decry all manly virtue as dangerous and wicked; and they look upon Nature as evil. True enough, everything is evil relatively to Adonai; for all stain is impurity. A bee's swarm is evil --- inside one's clothes. "Dirt is matter in the wrong place." It is dirt to connect sex with statuary, morals with art. Only Adonai, who is in a sense the True Meaning of everything, cannot defile any idea. This is a hard saying, though true, for nothing of course is dirtier than to try and use Adonai as a figleaf for one's shame.
               To seduce women under pretence of religion is unutterable {127} foulness; though both adultery and religion are themselves clean. To mix jam and mustard is a messy mistake.

               2.5. It also struck me that this Operation is (among other things) an attempt to prove the proposition:
               Reward is the direct and immediate consequence of Work. Of all the holy illuminated Men of God of my acquaintance, I am the only one that holds this opinion. But I think that this Record, when I have time to go through it, and stand at some distance, to get the perspective, will be proved a conclusive proof of my thesis. I think that every failure will be certainly traceable to my own dam foolishness; every little success to courage, skill, wit, tenacity. If I had but a little more of these!

               2.22. I further take this opportunity of asserting my Atheism. I believe that all these phenomena are as explicable as the formation of hoar-frost or of glacier tables. I believe "Attainment" to be a simple supreme sane state of the human brain. I do not believe in miracles; I do not think that God could cause a monkey, clergyman, or rationalist to attain. I am taking all this trouble of the Record principally in hope that it will show exactly what mental and physical conditions precede, accompany, and follow "attainment" so that others may reproduce, through those conditions, that Result {128} I believe in the Law of Cause and Effect --- and I loathe the cant alike of the Superstitionist and the Rationalist.

               		   "The	Confession of St. Judas	McCabbage"
               

               I believe in Charles Darwin Almighty, maker of Evolution; and in Ernst Haeckel, his only son our Lord Who for us men and for our salvation came down from Germany: who was conceived of Weissmann, born of Bchner, suffered under du Bois-Raymond, was printed, bound, and shelved: who was raised again into English (of sorts), ascended into the Pantheon of the Literary Guide and sitteth on the right hand of Edward Clodd: whence he shall come to judge the thick in the head.
               I believe in Charles Watts; the Rationalist Press Association; the annual dinner at the Trocadero Restaurant; the regularity of subscriptions, the resurrection in a sixpenny edition, and the Book-stall everlasting.
               AMEN.

               3.0. Arrived at Brenner's studio, and went on with the "moulage" of my Asana.

               4.20. Left the Studio; walk with mantra.

               4.55. Mantra-march. Pranayama; quick-time. Very bracing and fatiguing, both.
               At Dme to drink a citron press.
               Reflections have been in my mind upon the grossness of the Theistic conception, as shewn even in such pictures as Raphael's and Fra Angelico's. {129}
               How infinitely subtler and nobler is the contemplation of

               					     The Utmost	God
               

               Hid i' th' middle o'matter,

               the inscrutable mystery of the nature of common things. With what awe does the wise man approach a speck of dust! And it is this Mystery that I approach! For Thou, Adonai, art the immanent and essential Soul of Things; not separate from them, or from me; but That which is behind the shadow-show, the Cause of all, the Quintessence of all, the Transcender of all.
               And Thee I seek insistently; though Thou hide Thyself in the Heaven, there will I seek Thee out; though Thou wrap Thyself in the Flames of the Abyss, even there will I pursue Thee; Though Thou make Thee a secret place in the Heart of the Rose or at the Arms of the Cross that spanneth all-embracing Space; though Thou be in the inmost part of matter, or behind the Veil of mind; Thee will I follow; Thee will I overtake; Thee will I gather into my being.
               So thus as I chase Thee from fastness to fastness of my brain, as Thou throwest out against me Veil after Magic Veil of glory, or of fear, or of despair, or of desire; it matters nothing; at the End I shall attain to Thee --- oh my Lord Adonai! And even as the Capture is delight, is not the Chase also delight? For we are lovers from the Beginning, though it pleasure Thee to play the Syrinx to my Pan. {130} Is it not the springtide, and are these not the Arcadian groves?

               5.31. At home; settling to strictest meditation upon Adonai my Lord; willing His presence, the Perfume and the Vision, even as it is written in the Book of the Sacred Magick of Abramelin the Mage.

               8.6. Soon this became a sleep, though the will was eager and concentrated.
               The sleep, too, was deep and refreshing. I will go to dinner.

               8.22. Arrived, with mantra, at the Caf de Versailles.

               9.10. 1/2 doz. Marennes, Rble de Livre, citron press. I am now able to concentrate OFF the Path for a little. Whether this means that I am simply slipping back into the world, or that I am more balanced on, and master of, the Path, I cannot say.

               10.4. Have walked home, drunk a citron press at the Dme, and prepare for the night.
               As I crossed the boulevard, I looked to the bright moon, high and stately in the east, for a message. And there came to me this passage from the Book of Abramelin:
               "And thou wilt begin to inflame thyself in praying" ... It is the sentence which goes on to declare the Result. (P.S. --- With this rose that curious feeling of confidence, sure premonition of success, that one gets in most physical tasks, but especially when one is going to get {131} down a long putt or a tricky one. Whether it means more than that perception and execution have got into unison (for once) and know it, I cannot say.)
               It is well that thus should close this eleventh day of my Retirement, and the thirty-third year of my life. Thirty and three years was this temple in building. ... It has always been my custom on this night to look back over the year, and to ask: What have I done?
               The answer is invariably "Nothing."
               Yet of what men count deeds I have done no small share. I have travelled a bit, written a bit ... I seem to have been hard at it all the time --- and to have got nothing finished or successful. One Tragedy --- one little comedy --- two essays --- a dozen poems or so --- two or three short stories --- odds and ends of one sort and another: it's a miserable record, though the Tragedy is good enough to last a life. It marks an epoch in literature, though nobody else will guess it for fifty years yet. The travel, too, has been rubbish. It's been a petty, peddling year.
               The one absolute indication is: on no account live otherwise than alone.
               But it is 10.35; these considerations, though in a way pertaining to the Work, are not the Work itself. Let me "begin to inflame myself in praying!"

               			     "The Twelfth Day"
               

               12.17. When therefore I had made ready the chamber, so that all was dark, save for the Lamp upon the Altar, I {132} began as recorded above, to inflame myself in praying, calling upon my Lord; and I burned in the Lamp that Pantacle which I had made of Him, renouncing the Images, destroying the Images, that Himself might arise in me.
               And the Chamber was filled with that wondrous glow of ultraviolet light self-luminous, without a source, that hath no counterpart in Nature unless it be in that Dawn of the North. ... And there were reveled unto me certain Words of Power... And I invoked my Lord and recited the Book Ararita at the Altar ...
               This holy inspired book (delivered unto me in the winter of last year) was now at last understanded of me; for it is, though I knew it not, a complete scheme of this Operation. For this cause I will add this book Ararita at the end of the Manuscript. [This has not been permitted. The Book Ararita will be issued by the A.'. A.'. in due course. --- ED.] I also demanded of mine Angel the Writing upon the Lamen of Silver; a Writing of the veritable Elixir and supernal Dew. And it was granted unto me.
               Then subtly, easily, simply, imperceptibly gliding, I passed away into nothing. And I was wrapped in the black brilliance of my Lord, that interpenetrated me in every part, fusing its light with my darkness, and leaving there no darkness, but pure light. Also I beheld my Lord in a figure and I felt the interior {133} trembling kindle itself into a Kiss --- and I perceived the true Sacraments --- and I beheld in one moment all the mystic visions in one; and the Holy Graal appeared unto me, and many other inexpressible things were know of me. Also I was given to enjoy the subtle Presence of my Lord interiorly during the whole of this twelfth day. Then I besought the Lord that He would take me into His presence eternally even now.
               But He withdrew Himself, for that I must do that which I was sent hither to do; namely, to rule the earth. Therefore with sweetness ineffable He parted from me; yet leaving a comfort not to be told, a Peace ... the Peace. And the Light and the Perfume do certainly yet remain with me in the little Chamber, and I know that my Redeemer liveth, and that He shall stand at the latter day upon the earth. For I am He that liveth, and was dead; and behold! I am alive for evermore, and have the Keys of Hell and of Death. I am Amoun the Sun in His rising; I have passed from darkness into Light. I am Asar Un-nefer the Perfected One. I am the Lord of Life, triumphant over death. ...
               There is no part of me that is not of the Gods. ...

               		    The	dead man Ankh-af-na-khonsu
               		       Saith with his voice of truth and calm:
               		    Oh Thou that has a single arm!
               		       O Thou that glitterest in the moon!
               		    I weave Thee in the	spinning charm;
               		       I lure thee with	the billowy tune.     {134}
               

               		    The	dead man Ankh-af-na-khonsu
               		       Hath parted from	the darkling crowds,
               		    Hath joined	the dwellers of	the light,
               		       Opening Duant, the star-abodes;
               			  Their	keys receiving.
               		    The	dead man Ankh-af-na-khonsu
               		       Hath made his passage into night,
               		    His	pleasure on the	earth to do
               		       Among the living.
               

               				   Amen
               			      Amen without lie
               			   Amen, and Amen of Amen.
               

               12.40. I shall lie down to sleep in my robes, still wearing the Ring of the Masters, and bearing my wand in my hand. For to me now sleep is the same as waking, and life the same as death.
               In Thy L.V.X. are not light and darkness but twin children that chase each other in their play?
               7.55. Awoke from long sweet dreamless sleep, like a young eagle that soars to greet the dawn.
               9.20. After breakfast, have strolled, on my way to the studio, through the garden of the Luxembourg to my favourite fountain. It is useless to attempt to write of the dew and the flowers in the clear October sunlight.
               Yet the light which I behold is still more than sunlight. My eyes too are quite weak from the Vision; I cannot bear the brilliance of things.
               The clock of the Senate strikes; and my ears are ravished with its mysterious melody. It is the infinite interior movement of things, secured by the co-extension {135} of their sum with the all, that transcends the deadly opposites; change which implies decay, stability which spells monotony. I understand all the Psalms of Benediction; there is spontaneous praise, a fountain in my heart. The authors of the Psalms must have known something of this Illumination when they wrote them.

               9.30. It seems, too, that this Operation is transformed. I suppose it must read as a patchwork of most inharmonious colour, a thing without continuity or cohesion. To me, now, it appears from the very start a simple direct progress in one straight line. I can hardly remember that there were checks. Of course my rational memory picking out details finds otherwise. But I seem to have two memories almost as if belonging to two strata of being. In Qabalastic language, my native consciousness is now Neschamah, not Ruach or Nephesch. ... I really cannot write more. This writing is a descent into Ruach, and I want to abide where I am.

               11.17. At 10.0 arrived at Brenner's studio, and took the pose. At once, automatically, the interior trembling began again, and again the subtle brilliance flowed through me. The consciousness again died and was reborn as the divine, always without shock or stress.
               How easy is magic, once the way is found! How still is the soul! The turbid spate of emotion has ceased; the heavy particles of thought have sunk {136} to the bottom; how limpid, how lucid is its glimmer Only from above, from the overshadowing Tree of Life, whose leaves glisten and quiver in the shining wind of the Spirit, drops ever and anon, selfluminous, the Dew of Immortality.
               Many and wonderful also were the Visions and powers offered unto me in this hour; but I refused them all; for being in my Lord and He in me, there is no need of these toys.

               12.0. The pose over. On this second sitting, practically no thoughts arose at all to cloud the Sun; but a curious feeling that there was something more to come.
               Possibly the Proof, that I had demanded, the Writing on the Lamen ...

               12.40. Chez Lavenue. Certain practical considerations suggest themselves.
               One would have been much better off with a proper Magical Cabinet, a disciple to look after things, proper magical food ceremonially prepared, a private garden to walk in ... and so on. But at least it is useful and important to know that things can be done at a pinch in a great city and a small room.

               1.14. The lunch is good; the kidneys were well cooked; the tarte aux fraises was excellent; the Burgundy came straight from the Vat of Bacchus. The Coffee and Cognac are beyond all praise; the cigar is the best Caba$a I ever smoked. {137} I read through this volume of the Record; and I dissolve my being into quintessential laughter.
               The entries are some of them so funny! ... Previously, this had escaped me.

               1.32. And now the Rapture of it takes me!

               1.25. The exquisite beauty of the women in the Restaurant ... what John St. John would have called old hags!

               1.27. My soul is singing ... my soul is singing!

               1.30. It matters nothing what I do ... everything goes infinitely, incredibly right!
               "The Lord Adonai is about me as a Thunderbolt and as a Pylon and as a Serpent and as a Phallus." ...

               3.17. Have had a long talk of Art with B---. "The master considers himself always a student." So, therefore, whatever one may have attained, in this as in Art, there is always so much more possible that one can never be satisfied.
               Much less, then, satiated.

               11.15. Having gone back into the life of the world --- yet a world transfigured! -- I did all my little work, my little amusements, all the things that one does, very quietly and beatifically. About 10.30 the rapture began to carry me away; yet I withstood it and went on with my game of Billiards, for politeness' sake. And even there in the Caf du Dme was the glory within me, and I therein; so that every time that I failed at a stroke and stood up and drank in that {138} ambrosial air, I was night falling for that intense sweetness that dissolved away the soul. Even as a lover that swoons with excess of pleasure at the first kiss of the belovd, even so was I, oh my Lord Adonai! Wherefore I am come hither to my chamber to enflame myself in praying at the Altar that I have set up. And I am ready, robed, armed, anointed. ...

               11.35. Ardesco! ....................

               		       "The Thirteenth Day."
               

               It is Eight o'clock in the morning.
               Being entered into the Silence, let me abide in the Silence!

               			     AMEN
               

               {139}

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               			      AMPHORA
               	      "Blue Cloth, Gold	Design,	80 pp.	price "2s. 6d."
               	    Published by BURNS & OATES,	28 Orchard St.,	W.
               

               This wonderful collection of Hymns to the Blessed Virgin Mary

                     is the work (so it is said) of a Leading London Actress.
               

               Father Kent writes in "The Tablet": "Among the many books which benevolent publishers are preparing as appropriate Christmas presents we notice many new editions of favourite poetic classics. But few, we fancy, can be more appropriate for the purpose than a little volume of original verses, entitled 'Amphora,' which Messrs. Burns and Oates are on the point of publishing. The following stanzas from a poem on the Nativity will surely be a better recommendation of the book than any words of critical appreciation.
               "The Virgin lies at Bethlehem.
               (Bring gold and frankincense and myrrh!) The root of David shoots a stem.
               (O Holy Spirit, shadow her!)

               She lies alone amid the kine.
               (Bring gold and frankincense and Myrrh!) The straw is fragrant as with wine.
               (O Holy Spirit shadow her!)"

               Lieut.-Col. Gormley writes: "The hymns ordinarily used in churches for devotional purposes are 'no doubt excellent in their way, but it can scarcely be said, in the case of many of them, that they are of much literary merit, and some of them indeed are little above the familiar nursery rhymes of our childhood; it is therefore somewhat of a relief and a pleasure to read the volume of hymns to the Virgin Mary which has just been published by Messrs. Burns and Oats. These hymns to the Virgin Mary are in the best style, they are devotional in the highest degree, and to Roman Catholics, for whom devotion to the Virgin Mary forms so important part of their religious belief, these poems should indeed be welcome; personally I have found them just what I desired, and I have no doubt other Catholics will be equally pleased with them."
               "Vanity Fair" says: "To the ordinary mind passion has no relation to penitence, and carnal desire is the very antithesis of spiritual fervour. But close observers of human nature are accustomed to discover an intimate connection between the forces of the body and the soul; and the student of psychology is continually being reminded of the kinship between saint and sinner. Now and then we find the extremes of self and selflessness in the same soul. Dante tells us how the lover kissed the trembling mouth, and with the same thrill describes his own passionate abandonment before the mystic Rose. In our own day, the greatest of French lyric poets, Verlaine, has given us volumes of the most passionate love songs, and side by side with them a book of religious poetry more sublimely credulous and ecstatic than anything that has come down to us from the Ages of Faith. We are all, as Sainte-Beuve said, 'children of a sensual literature,' and perhaps for that reason we should expect from our singers fervent religious hymns. "There is one of London's favourites almost unrivalled to express by her art the delights of the body with a pagan simplicity and directness. Now she sends us a book, 'Amphora,' a volume of religious verse: it contains song after song in praise of Mary," etc. etc. etc. The "Scotsman" says: "Outside the Latin Church conflicting views are held about the worship of the Virgin, but there can be no doubt that this motive of religion has given birth to many beautiful pieces of literature, and the poets have never tired of singing variations on the theme of 'Hail, Mary.' This little book is best described here as a collection of such variations. They are written with an engaging simplicity and fervour of feeling, and with a graceful, refined literary art that cannot but interest and attract many readers beyond the circles of such as must feel it religiously impossible not to admire them." The "Daily Telegraph" says: "In this slight volume we have the utterances of a devout anonymous Roman Catholic singer, in a number of songs or hymns addressed to the Virgin Mary. The author, who has evidently a decided gift for sacred verse and has mastered varied metres suitable to her high themes, divides her poems into four series of thirteen each --- thus providing a song for each week of the year. The songs are all of praise or prayer addressed to the Virgin, and, through many have a touch of mysticism, most have a simplicity of expression and earnestness of devotion that will commend them to the author's co-religionists." A GREEN GARLAND
               By V. B. NEUBURG
               Green paper cover. 1s. 6d. net
               

               ---

                     "As far as the verse is concerned	there is in this volume	something
               

               more than mere promise; the performance is at times remarkable; there is beauty not only of thought and invention --- and the invention is of a positive kind --- but also of expression and rhythm. There is a lilt in Mr. Neuburg's poems; he has the impulse to sing, and makes his readers feel that impulse." --- "The Morning Post, May 21, 1908"

                     "There is	a certain given	power in some of the imaginings	concerning
               

               death, as 'The Dream' and 'the Recall,' and any reader with a liking for verse of an unconventional character will find several pieces after his taste." --- "The Daily Telegraph, May 29, 1908."

                     "Here is a poet of promise." --- "The Daily Chronicle, May 13, 1908."
                     "It is not often that energy and poetic feeling are united so happily
               

               as in this little book." --- "The Morning Leader, July 10, 1908."

                    There is promise and some fine lines in these verses." ---	"The Times,"
               

               "July 11, 1908."
               

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                     The third, an Essay on Magical Ethics, under the guise of	the story
               

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               to be!
               

                     "Here you	have distilled for our delight the inner spirit	of the
               

               Tulip's form, the sweet secret mystery of the Rose's perfume: you have set them free from all that is material whilst preserving all that is sensual. 'So also the old mystics were right who saw in every phenomenon a dog-faced demon apt only to seduce the soul from the sacred mystery.' Yes, but the phenomenon shall it be as another sacred mystery; the force of attraction still to be interpreted in terms of God and the Psyche? We shall reward you by befoulment, by cant, by misunderstanding, and by understanding. This to you who wear the Phrygian cap, not as symbol of Liberty, O ribald ones, but of sacrifice and victory, of Inmost Enlightenment, of the soul's deliverance from the fetters of the very soul itself ---- fear not; you are not 'replacing truth of thought by mere expertness of mechanical skill.'

                    "You who hold more	skill and more power than your great English
               

               predecessor, Robertus de Fluctibus, you have not feared to reveal 'the Arcana which are in the Adytum of God-nourished Silence' to those who, abandoning nothing, will sail in the company of the Brethren of the Rosy Cross towards the Limbus, that outer, unknown world encircling so many a universe."
               "John Bull," in the course of a long review by Mr. HERBERT VIVIAN"

                    "The author is evidently that rare	combination of genius, a humorist
               

               and a philosopher. For pages he will bewilder the mind with abstruse esoteric pronouncements, and then, all of a sudden, he will reduce his readers to hysterics with some surprisingly quaint conceit. I was unlucky to begin reading him at breakfast and I was moved to so much laughter that I watered my bread with my tears and barely escaped a convulsion." "The Times"
               

                    "The Light	wherein	he writes is the L.V.X.	of that, which first
               

               mastering and then transcending the reason, illumines all the darkness caused by the interference of the opposite waves of thought. ... It is one of the most suggestive definitions of KONX --- the LVX of the Brethren of the Rosy Cross --- that it transcends all the possible pairs of opposites. Nor does this sound nonsensical to those who are acquainted with that LVX. But to those who do not it must remain as obscure and ridiculous as spherical trigonometry to the inhabitants of Flatland." "The Literary Guide"
               

                    "He is a lofty idealist.  He sings	like a lark at the gates of heaven.
               

               'Konx Om Pax' is the apotheosis of extravagance, the last word in eccentricity. A prettily-told fairy-story 'for babes and sucklings' has 'explanatory notes in Hebrew and Latin for the wise and prudent' --- which notes, as far as we can see, explain nothing --- together with a weird preface in scraps of twelve or fifteen languages. The best poetry in the book is contained in the last section --- 'The Stone of the Philosophers.' Here is some fine work."

               		       "To be obtained of the"
               

               WALTER SCOTT PUBLISHING CO. Ltd.
               

               		       PATERNOSTER ROW,	E.C.
               		    "And through all Booksellers"
               		      -----------------------
               

               "Crown 8vo, Scarlet Buckram, pp. 64."

               	    This Edition strictly limited to 500 Copies.
               			    PRICE 10s
               			      A.'. A.'.
               		      PUBLICATION IN CLASS B.
               		      -----------------------
               			     BOOK
               			      777
               

               THIS book contains in concise tabulated form a comparative view of all the symbols of the great religions of the world; the perfect attributions of the Taro, so long kept secret by the Rosicrucians, are now for the first time published; also the complete secret magical correspondences of the G.'. D.'. and R. R. et A. C. It forms, in short, a complete magical and philosophical dictionary; a key to all religions and to all practical occult working.
               For the first time Western and Qabalistic symbols have been harmonized with those of Hinduism, Buddhism, Mohammedanism, Taoism, &c. By a glance at Tables, anybody conversant with any one system can understand perfectly all others.

               		    MR.	JOHN OUSELEY'S NEW BOOK.
               

               VAIN TALES FROM
               

               			  "VANITY FAIR"
               

                     (Crown 8vo, cloth, gilt lettered,	with special cover design,
               			    256	pp.; 3/6.
               

               By LOUISE HEILGERS

               		    With Preface by FRANK HARRIS.
               

               THE great English Society Weekley, "Vanity Fair," is known throughout the world, and the publishers of VAIN TALES FROM "VANITY FAIR" are therefore naturally pleased to be selected for the publication of the above work. The Messrs. Ouseley recommend the book with every confidence, not only for its literary merit, but also because it will be in demand on account of its close associations with "Vanity Fair."

               	       15 & 16 FARRINGDON STREET, LONDON, E.C.
               			     2C
               

               			  "The Bomb"
               		       By FRANK	HARRIS
               		      (Jonn Long. 6/=.)
               

               This sensational novel, by the Well-known Editor of "Vanity Fair, has evoked a chorus of praise from the reviewers, and has been one of the talked-of books of the season. We append a few criticisms: --- MR. ALEISTER CROWLEY:

                    "This book	is, in truth, a	masterpiece; so	intense	is the impression
               

               that one almost asks, 'Is this a novel or a confession? Did not Frank Harris perhaps throw the bomb?' At least he has thrown one now ... This is the best novel I have ever read."

               "The Times:"
               

                    "'The Bomb' is highly charged with	an explosive bent of Socialistic
               

               and Anarchistic matter, wrapped in a gruesome coating of 'exciting' fiction ... Mr. Harris has a real power of realistic narrative. He is at his best in mid-stream. The tense directness of his style, never deviating into verbiage, undoubtedly keeps the reader at grips with the story and the characters."

               "Morning Post:"
               

                    "Mr. Frank	Harris's first long novel is an	extremely interesting and
               

               able piece of work. Mr. Harris has certainly one supreme literary gift, that of vision. He sees clearly and definitely everything he describes, and consequently ... is absolutely convincing. Never for a moment do we feel as we read the book that the story is not one of absolute fact, and so convincing in its simplicity and matter-of-factness is Mr. Harris's style that we often accept his psychology before we realize ... on how few grounds it is based. Some of the aspects of modern democracy are treated with astonishing insight and ability, and 'The Bomb' is distinctly not a book to be overlooked."

               JACOB TONSON in the "New Age:"
               

                    "The illusion of reality is more than staggering; it is haunting ...
               

               Many passages are on the very highest level of realistic art ... Lingg's suicide and death are Titanic ... In pure realism nothing better has been done, and I do not forget Tolstoy's 'The Death of Ivan Illytch!' It is a book very courageous, impulsively generous, and of a shining distinction ..."

               "Saturday Review:"
               

                    "He (Mr. Harris) is a born	writer of fiction. ... Those two books of
               

               his, 'Elder Conklin' and 'Montes, the Matador,' contained the best short stories that have been written. ... Mr. Harris touches a high level of tragic intensity. And the scene of the actual throwing, and then the description of Schnaubelt's flight to New York in a state of mental and physical collapse, are marvels of tense narration. Altogether, the book is a thoroughly fine piece of work, worthy of the creator of Conklin. We hope it is the precursor of many other books from Mr. Harris."

               "The Nation:"
               

                    "Mr. Harris has a born writer's eloquence,	he has knowledge of his
               

               subject, and he often expresses himself with a distinction of phrasing and a precision of thought which give real value to his work."

               "Daily Telegraph:"
               

                    "A	good book ... this story reads like a page of real life	written
               

               down by a man who actually did take part in the scenes described so vividly. ... We follow their fortunes breathlessly. ... Descriptions as vivid as any Mr. Upton Sinclair ever painted, and they are never tedious nor overdone. ... We must not leave the tale without mentioning the wonderful love story of Rudoplh and Elsie, a fine piece of psychology, as true as it is moving, and of a quality rarely to be found in fiction."

               		       The Star	in the West
               

               			       BY
               

               		     CAPTAIN J.	F. C. FULLER
               

               	    "FOURTH LARGE EDITION NOW IN PREPARATION"
               

               		     THROUGH ALL BOOKSELLERS
               

               SIX SHILLINGS NET

               ---

               	      A	highly original	study of morals	and
               	      religion by a new	writer,	who is as
               	      entertaining as the average novelist is
               	      dull.  Nowadays human thought has
               	      taken a brighter place in	the creation:
               	      our emotions are weary of	bad baronets
               	      and stolen wills;	they are now only
               	      excited by spiritual crises, catastrophes	of
               	      the reason, triumphs of the intelligence.
               	      In these fields Captain Fuller is	a master
               	      dramatist.
               

               ---

               Mr. W. NORTHAM

               		    "Robe Maker	and Tailor"
               

               9 HENRIETTA ST., COVENT GARDEN, W.C.

               Begs to inform those concerned that he has been entrusted by the A.'. A.'.
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               		       members of the Society.
               

               			      THE
               		     LESSER KEY	OF SOLOMON
               			   (GOETIA)
               

               	    "With full Instructions and	Illustrations"
               

                     Price 1 1s.		       Through the "Equinox"