Yes, I am once again practicing magick and mysticism. I do think I got myself into some small trouble last time. I was reading an amateurish book and I think I either unbalanced or unleashed certain energies that were responsible for my recent eating disorder. The writer of this book was a rather amateurish writer. One can't trust a mediocrity when it comes to magick. One literally has to die to oneself 1,000 times over (and not out of cowardice.) To take things halfway (or too far at first) against the massive forces that course through the universe can be very dangerous when one is unprepared. Especially if one, like me, suffers from mental illness. Yes, it is well-documented that I suffer from OCD, anxiety and depression among a host of lesser ailments. I cannot delve too deeply into magick until I tame or eliminate these problems through extensive training in basic yoga.
This time I'm going with Aleister Crowley. Crowley, to be fair, must be the most misunderstood figure to have ever lived. The Ozzy Osbourne song adds to the confusion (though it is a pretty good metal song.) Crowley made everything challenging. Nothing happens without hard work. I needed to read the amateur to understand much of what Crowley writes, but now that it comes time for practice again I only want to follow the real magician, the one who makes true "star children" work for it. Anybody can screw up their karma with an amateur.
So, I have been practicing asana, mantra-yoga and dharana under the guidance of Crowley's "Equinox". Like a good Thelemite I have been keeping a daily magickal diary recording the thoughts and experiences that occur while I am meditating.
Most of what is in this diary is not my best writing. Mostly I describe the discomfort felt while holding one position for an half hour. Sometimes I'll describe the mental junk that will float to the surface and I will occasionally philosophize on what all of this (life and practice) means. I believe I went on a good riff about Hegel and mysticism the other day. I was meditating and a sexual thought came up. Then I thought that the same impulse I have to commit a sexual act is in dialectical opposition to the force telling me NOT to commit a certain sexual act and that I must transcend this dialectic. Not necessarily with a synthesis (though syntheses sometimes do work), but through transcending the whole argument, the whole conflict, and then transcending that and then transcending THAT until everything becomes like some kind of Chinese box and then transcending THAT until I've transcended everything.
So, yes, I will philosophize in my magickal journal (and because I'm so original in general I am sure I crowded it with at least enough original thoughts), but for the most part I come across as sounding like a rather dogmatic Thelemite (though I'm not dogmatic in general.) But at least I SOUND like nothing more than a teenager star-struck by Crowley.
It's good my best work was not in that magickal journal. And here's why:
I think I may have lost that journal on a New Jersey Transit train. This is my worst nightmare. Strangers reading thoughts that did not go through my (sometimes) stringent editing process. Or people reading something they are NOT supposed to read. Or me giving something sacred away. Or me giving my writing away for free.
Let's face it: I'm a brilliant writer and almost everything I do is very creative and original. ORIGINAL. My talent as a writer was inborn but it did not develop overnight. It took a lot of HARD WORK and SACRIFICE! I had to miss out on a lot to think and write like this! For instance, while other people were partying and getting laid I was studying Hegel!!! So whatever I write that was inspired by Hegel was earned! I earned it! Despite the American compulsion to work, most people do not know what it is to really EARN something.
But then think of Hegel again... Isn't one often defined by one's own opposition, by one's own antithesis?
Instead of OCDing about someone on the train ripping off my ideas I could use this spur to my OCDs (and yes the thought of losing even one of my journals is highly bothersome to me - it makes my OCD feel like a groundhog on steroids flipping out in the middle of my brain) to attain a certain liberation.
aum mani padme hum
Now I'm writing like one of those loathsome Beat assholes.
But, really, doesn't everyone already know that I'm brilliant? Each day I work harder, but with less to prove.
aum mani padme hum
The mantra of the Rosy Cross; of all the rituals that one helped me to feel most comforted.
I just finished reading Julius Evola recently. He was describing the differentiated man and the man who makes his home at the center of his own being. If I do this, what do I have to fear - that someone will rip off some of my most dogmatic thoughts?
aum mani padme hum
I'm liberating myself. I'm going to use this mishap to my advantage.
Maybe it happened for a reason?
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