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Aleister Crowley is one of those dynamic individuals who brings out strong emotional responses in people. No one has a luke-warm opinion about the man, and whenever his name is brought up, everyone feels compelled to weigh in on the subject. He is alternately the Wickedest Man in the World, and the Prophet of the New Aeon; a profound Occult Genius with unequaled insights into Spiritual Mysteries, and a bumbling con man who swiped all of his best material from others. He was a drug addict and a sex fiend who nevertheless mastered the ascetic disciplines of Yoga and climbed mountains for fun. It is impossible to discuss the world of the Occult without mentioning him, for all of his contributions and insights, yet he was, in his own words, an artistic genius comparable to Gauguin and a poet who might be remembered in the same context as William Shakespeare. (I repeat: those are his words, not mine!) The simple truth is, Aleister Crowley was all of that and more. He was a study in contrast, combing disparate elements within his personality to produce a potent alchemical synthesis. This alone would make him a man worthy of study. There are too many normal, boring, conventional people out there, and few who truly embrace the maxim of Nietzsche, "One must still have chaos in oneself to give birth to a dancing star." Yet, what Crowley had to say is far more important than who he was, even though it too often gets swallowed up in a consideration of the individual. Aleister Crowley wrote, "The Law is for all." There is no need for priests, or gurus, or authorities or any kind of intermediary whatsoever. We do not need these facilitators between us and the Holy because there is nothing that separates us from the Holy but our own faulty vision. In Liber Al we read, "Every man and every woman is a star." There is something of the immensity of the universe within each individual. Something eternal, active, creative, powerful - and playful. "We are all free, all independent, all shining gloriously, each one a radiant world. Is not that good tidings?" (Crowley, The Law of Liberty) But many do not recognize this. Instead of doing their True Will, and living authentically, vitally, wholly, they are only going through the motions, and doing what society, family, church, and other such bodies expect of them. But, unless you are doing your True Will it's all just fruitless effort, as Crowley recognized when positing the Law of Thelema: 'Do what thou wilt' shall be the whole of the Law. (Meaning, what is done contrary to one's Will is unlawful.) This naturally begs the question, what is one's True Will? To discover our True Will we must discover our true self - our Inner Man, the person that we submerge in our pursuit of money and status and respectability - the vital, creative, and holy person at one with the world and himself. Our True Will is whatever is done in accordance with this vision. Each person has their own True Will, and it differs from one person to the next. A man may be an outwardly successful banker, but if his true inclination is to be a painter, he will be miserable, inwardly torn, and in the end altogether unsuccessful. Likewise, a woman who has been pushed into a life of society and fashionable functions, when all she really wants to do is spend her time in quiet and mystical contemplation, can be nothing but unhappy. As Crowley, says, "Unless you know what your True Will is, you may be devoting the most laudable energies to destroying yourself." When you discover your True Will, and hold fast to it, you have the Inertia of the Universe on your side, and your life will be filled with joy and love. Hence, the Law of Thelema has been described as Love, love under will. And this love is expansive, reaching out, as the light of one star stretches across the void to embrace another. So Crowley commands us to "love one another with burning hearts." And in this, the Law is fulfilled. Quite an admirable philosophy, and one altogether consistent with the worship of Dionysos. Indeed, Thelema can be seen as a type of the Bacchic Mysteries, revamped for the New Aeon. Dionysos was honored with feasts at intervals of two or three years. During these occasions, women would leave behind their homes, husbands, and children - all of the familial and societal obligations that were so important to the Greeks - to dance and drink and revel in his honor. They would hasten to a mountain or secluded wood and there commune with wild nature, driven by religious frenzy intensified by music, dance, and wine to states of ecstasy where they experienced possession by and union with the God. These rites were so important that failure to perform them was seen as an awful calamity and a harbinger of madness, famine, war and other afflictions. Stories grew up about those who had attempted to stop the sacred rites, and suffered for their impiety and unremitting pride - men such as Lycurgus, the daughters of Minyas, and the supreme model of this type, Pentheus. These stories can be seen as warnings against those who attempt to stifle, hinder, or in any other way impede another's expression of their True Will, or the development of one's own. The connections with Thelema are even more obvious when we turn to the Orphics, who developed from the traditional worship of Dionysos and produced a complex and mystical interpretation of the God. According to the Orphic theologians, at the behest of the jealous Goddess Hera, the evil Titans killed and ate the God Dionysos-Zagreus, who was the son of Zeus and his daughter Persephone. Zeus interrupted their awful feast and flew into a rage, hurling his lightning-bolts at the Titans and burning them up. From the ash that was produced by the fire, eventually came mankind, so that inside of each of us remains that divine element. It is our duty to free the spark of God trapped within the Titanic confines of our bodies. The means of accomplishing this task were through Yoga-like ascetic practices, vegetarianism, dramatic rituals, and magical incantations. Orphism, both its philosophy and its rituals, strongly influenced Pythagoras, Plato, the Hermeticists, Gnosticism, Neoplatonic Theurgy, Alchemy, and all of the later Western Esotericism that developed from these groups. As a result of this, a good friend of mine has claimed that I am a Thelemite even though I consider myself an Hellenic Polytheist. (Personally, I just think he wants the toaster I promised to whoever succeeds in converting me.) But, let us consider whether there is any truth to the claim, If, as my friend maintains, being a Thelemite consists in accepting the Law of Thelema, and attempting to discover who the Inner Man really is, then yes, without question, I am a Thelemite. Of course, so is everyone else, as this seems to be an essential aspect of the Spiritual quest. And yet, Thelema clearly differs in many regards from, say, New Age mysticism or the quietist practices of the Society of Friends. It has distinct practices and an elaborate system of mythological and psychological symbolism. It contains many elements drawn from the Kaballah, Hermetic Magic, and both Eastern and Western Esotericism. Its rituals are both complex and arduous. It's philosophy runs much deeper than the sketchy outline I provided above. And, like all Mystical Orders or Secret Societies, it has a unique vocabulary of words and concepts which sets the initiate apart from outsiders. Although I greatly admire all of these aspects of
Thelema, I do not incorporate them into my spiritual
practices. I have never taken part in a Gnostic Mass or
other Thelemic ritual, although from what I have read, they
seem extremely beautiful and meaningful. Because I have only
accepted certain aspects of Aleister Crowley's philosophy,
and by no means the whole of it, I do not believe that I am
entitled to call myself a Thelemite. Further, there are some
areas where I disagree with Aleister Crowley and Thelema.
For instance, I do not believe in successive ages of
revelation or dispensations; I do not believe that all Gods
can be fit neatly into the Triad of Nuit, Hadit, and
Rha-hoor-khuit; and I find all of the Kaballastic and
Eastern correspondences to be hopelessly beyond my ability
to grasp. These are small things, perhaps, and with time I
might be able to overcome them. But they are enough for me
to profess that I am not, at this time, a Thelemite. I am,
however, more of a Thelemite than I am a Wiccan or
Christian, though the difference between "like" and "is" is
as great as the difference between dead and almost dead,
which is to say - a great deal indeed. However, my
differences of opinion do not stop me from admiring the man
and supplementing my learning with his teachings when it is
applicable. For as Seneca, a man whom I admire as much as
Crowley, has said, "That which is true and wise - no matter
who has said it - it belongs to us." |
