A reading of “The Dangers of Mysticism” by Aleister Crowley, published in The Equinox, Volume I, No. VI.
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You can find the text here:
https://hermetic.com/crowley/equinox/i/vi/eqi06018
And here:
https://lib.oto-usa.org/crowley/essays/dangers-mysticism.html
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”A curious idea is being sedulously disseminated, and appears to be gaining ground, that mysticism is the “safe” path to the highest, and magic the dangerous path to the lowest.”
”One may doubt whether anything worth doing at all is free from danger, and one may wonder what danger can threaten the man whose object is his own utter ruin.”
More than a hundred years has passed since this text was written, but strangely it seems relevant. The idea that the Mystic is safe, and the Magician is dangerous – or in danger – is still around today. It might be because the Mystic is passive, while the Magician is active. The Mystic avoids. The Magician confronts. The Mystic ponders. The Magician acts. From the perspective of the bystander a mysterious uttering is not nearly as dangerous as a magical act. From the perspective of the doer there seems to be more danger in acting than in pondering. Regardless of perspective, it’s only true if we think of the world as static. Once we realize that the world itself is in motion, we must also realize that we are safer on our feet – moving with it – than we are sitting down – resisting movement. In fact stillness brings us into confrontation, (with what is moving), while skillful movement might let us escape just that.
For example, hunger can be prevented with consistent meal times. Fatigue can be prevented with exercise. Exhaustion is preventable with sleep. But to achieve equilibrium, (or homeostasis, in this case), you must cook, run, and go to bed at the right moments. Life is always working, and magic is nothing else than another level of work. Stillness, regular motion, and speed exist on a spectrum. We are always colliding with reality, but hopefully at a sustainable and comfortable speed.
“…and magic, the dangerous path to the lowest” is a path some of us choose freely. There can be many reasons. Life brings you down in some way, or another, and you learn that as a matter of fact you must put effort into living, or you will die. If you are unlucky, and you hit rock bottom, sometimes you must learn to eat, exercise, and sleep – again – as if learning a new language. Life is hard – but it is interesting – and even wonderful. Once I saw what mere breathing could do for me, if I did it right, I was hooked on exploring “…the lowest” and it wasn’t (extra) dangerous. To the contrary, not exploring it seemed to be more of a risk. Like driving without driving lessons.
“…utter ruin” may seem like a strange objective. Crowley himself does seem to have been in a hurry to find his own grave, but I’m not. I take “…utter ruin” to mean I’m not going to Heaven. I’m going to turn to space dust when I die. Meanwhile, many things feel threatening to me. I worry a lot. I guess I’m not as macho as Aleister Crowley was. But in spite of my worries, I wouldn’t prefer a “…safe path to the highest” because I don’t think it exists. I think it’s like vacation resorts. For a limited time you feel like paradise is real, but then you have to go home, because it isn’t.
Even if the Mystic would manage to avoid normal problems for a whole lifetime, what would become of it? That’s exactly Crowley’s next question.
”Hundreds of mystics shut themselves up completely and forever. Not only is their wealth-producing capacity lost to society, but so is their love and good-will, and worst of all, so is their example and precept.”
”Beware of all those who shirk the lower difficulties: it’s a good bet that they shirk the higher difficulties too.”
”…although an ounce of true humility is worth an ounce of honest pride; the man who works has no time to bother with either.”
Work is undoubtedly the best path to forgetting yourself for a minute. For a minute you’re free of the burden of being a person. You’re busy doing things. Something is done, and you have your exercise. You might even have met the needs of others in the same moment you met your own. But work must not be confused with just regular labor. There are all kinds of work in life. We are always working. There is delicate work to be done too. There are thoughts working through our brains, and sensations. We dream, and dreams are efforts. We laugh, we cry – and our muscles ache.
The sum of Aleister Crowley’s hopes in the year of 1911 was as follows:
“…but I would ask even the strongest to apply these correctives: first, the skeptical or scientific attitude, both in outlook and method; second, a healthy life, meaning by that what the athlete and the explorer mean; third, hearty human companionship, and devotion to life, work, and duty.”
We know he failed on all accords, but we know he tried for something. His hope was the hope of someone with some experience, someone who had threaded “…the dangerous path to the lowest.” And not the hopes of someone with high, or safety oriented, ideals.
My final comment on this reading will be that the text contains the word
”kindheartedness.”
Another deal Aleister Crowley broke for himself all the time. But the deal was there to be broken. And who wouldn’t want to be a skeptical athlete explorer with lots of warm relationships, and a combined zest for life, and devotion to work and duty? Kindhearted too? Too good to be true? Absolutely. I’m done reading. I’m in.
Because unlike the Mystic, the Magician tries.
etherbird 