27 Jan 50
Dear Candida
I have suffered some vicious astral attacks lately and my skryings indicate that they relate to a fruition of one aspect of the Babalon working, and this because I have willfully and knowingly accepted the counter charge. It is now four years since I saw the words of destiny in blood and fire, and transcribed to my own disaster. I should have died that time, what lived has had one purpose, to teach and to transmit.
Crowley is dead, Max Schneider dead of a stroke, Roy Leffingwell paralyzed with a stroke, Jones insane – you see – this is a strong magic – and Germer and Smith both old and in bad health. I do not know who else stirs in Her womb, but you are the only hope I know. If you only had with you an image of Kali – or could spend some time with Ixcunia[?] in Mexico City – to comprehend the intolerable self – the vile, frightful aspects of the mother that yet lifts up the upholding hand in the immemorial gesture of – peace, child, all is well.
It is in the passage of the barrier that lies just one inch beyond the possible that the attainment is made – the going down of the ego between the adamant or malefic back [black?] sides of the gods, that the fusion of infinity takes place.
To go deep you must reject each phenomenon, each illumination, each ecstasy, going ever downward, until you reach the last avatars of the symbols that are also the racial archetypes. In this sacrifice to the abysmal gods is the apotheosis that transmutes them to the beauty and power that is your eternity, and the redemption of mankind.
Neurosis and initiation are the same thing, except that neurosis stops short of apotheosis, and the tremendous forces that mold all life are encysted – short circuited and turned poisonous. Psychoanalysis transforms the false ego symbols – it is a confusion of conformity and cure in terms of group behavior. But initiation must go on until the barrier is passed, the misty bastions of infantile Trawenfells in to the rocks and crags of eternity, the garden of Klingsor in to the City of God.
The apotheosis is in short the translation of good and evil in terms of the father and mother Imago into Isis and Christ, Swa and Panita [?] and duad beyond duality and causality, above the abyss – and these in turn to the One that is beyond speech and sight and knowledge.
Tragedy is diurnal, comedy annual [?], the laughter and dance of the great year, where all crucifixions are only birthday parties of the Gods. Change and death are the song of the immortal, incarnate spirit, and the triple flame of greed, lust and hate no more than its mortal vestment.
But we are here all diurnal, tragedy to us, however hysterical, is real. That is why we must for ever have the message, ever old, ever new, that we are portions of eternity. We must have it as a sacrament from the great noble ego that goes down to its own crucifixion and returns an immortal spirit with celestial song. You, Cinderella of the Wastelands, have chosen the way of the hero – and the gods alone may guess the end of your path. You are, as Bolitho [?] says, “Camped out with Mystery” with only Karma-Maya and the archetypes for your companions. All the eyes of the secret world are on you, wondering and hoping. May you win through.
Love, Jack
P.S. Do you fully understand the nature of your magical relation with Freya?
P.P.S. Your show had some short press notices, which I thought I sent you, but perhaps didn’t. I haven’t written about it probably because I felt badly at the time. I don’t think that Tato’s [?] is a very good place to show – or the Coast at all.
Re the divorce. I would have preferred that you get it, but it seemed important to take decisive action in order to clear up the loose ends of the past. My lawyer says it would help if you furnished a letter stating that you are in accord with the divorce proceedings. Can you do this?
There is some literature and MSS that you should have. If you wish, I will list and tell you how to get them.
93 93/93 J.
