by Aleister Crowley, excerpted from “The Law is for All”
This document © O.T.O.
We of Thelema say that “Every man and every woman is a star”. We do not fool and flatter women; we do not despise and abuse them. To us a woman is Herself, absolute, original, independent, free, self justified, exactly as a man is.
We dare not thwart Her Going, Goddess she! We arrogate no right upon Her will; we claim not to deflect Her development, to dispose of Her desires, or to determine Her destiny. She is Her own sole arbiter; we ask no more than to supply our strength to Her, whose natural weakness else were prey to the world’s pressure. Nay more, it were too zealous even to guard Her in Her Going; for She were best by Her own self-reliance to win Her own way forth!
We do not want Her as a slave; we want Her free and royal, whether Her love fight death in our arms by night, or Her loyalty ride by day beside us in the Charge of the Battle of Life.
”Let the woman be girt with a sword before me!”
”In her is all power given.”
So sayeth this our Book of the Law. We respect woman in the self of Her own nature; we do not arrogate the right to criticise her. We welcome her as our ally, come to our camp as her Will, free-flashing, sword-swinging, hath told Her, Welcome, thou Woman, we hail thee, star shouting to star! Welcome to rout and to revel! Welcome to fray and to feast! Welcome to vigil and victory! Welcome to war with its wounds! Welcome to peace with its pageants! Welcome to lust and to laughter! Welcome to board and to bed! Welcome to trumpet and triumph; welcome to dirge and to death!
It is we of Thelema who truly love and respect Woman, who hold her sinless and shameless even as we are; and those who say that we despise Her are those who shrink from the flash of our falchions as we strike from Her limbs their foul fetters.
Do we call Woman Whore? Ay, Verily and Amen, She is that; the air shudders and burns as we shout it, exulting and eager.
O ye! Was not this your sneer, your vile whisper that scorned Her and shamed Her? Was not “Whore” the truth of Her, the title of terror that you gave Her in your fear of Her, coward comforting coward with furtive glance and gesture?
But we fear Her not; we cry Whore, as Her armies approach us. We beat on our shields with our swords. Earth echoes the clamour!
Is there doubt of the victory? Your hordes of cringing slaves, afraid of themselves, afraid of their own slaves, hostile, despised and distrusted, your only tacticians the ostrich, the opossum, and the cuttle, will you not break and flee at our first onset, as with leveled lances of lust we ride at the charge, with our allies, the Whores whom we love and acclaim, free friends by our sides in the Battle of Life?
The Book of the Law is the Charter of Woman; the Word Thelema has opened the lock of Her “girdle of chastity”. Your Sphinx of stone has come to life; to know, to will, to dare and to keep silence.
Yea, I, The Beast, my Scarlet Whore bestriding me, naked and crowned, drunk on Her golden Cup of Fornication, boasting Herself my bedfellow, have trodden Her in the Marketplace, and roared this Word that every woman is a star. And with that Word is uttered Woman’s Freedom; the fools and fribbles and flirts have heard my voice. The fox in woman hath heard the Lion in man; fear, fainting, flabbiness, frivolity, falsehood—these are no more the mode.
In vain will bully and brute and braggart man, priest, lawyer, or social censor knit his brows to devise him a new tamer’s trick; once and for all the tradition is broken; vanished the vogue of bowstring, sack, stoning, nose-slitting, belt-buckling, cart’s tail-dragging, whipping, pillory posting, walling-up, divorce court, eunuch, harem, mind-crippling, house-imprisoning, menial-work-wearying, creed stultifying, social-ostracism-marooning, Divine-wrath-scaring, and even the device of creating and encouraging prostitution to keep one class of women in the abyss under the heel of the police, and the other on its brink, at the mercy of the husband’s boot at the first sign of insubordination or even of failure to please.
Man’s torture-chamber had tools inexhaustibly varied; at one end murder crude and direct to subtler, more callous, starvation; at the other moral agonies, from tearing her child from her breast to threatening her with a rival when her service had blasted her beauty.
Most masterful man, yet most cunning, was not thy supreme strategem to band the woman’s own sisters against her, to use their knowledge of her psychology and the cruelty of their jealousies to avenge thee on thy slave as thou thyself hadst neither wit nor spite to do?
And Woman, weak in body, and starved in mind; woman, morally fettered by Her heroic oath to save the race, no care of cost, helpless and hard, endured these things, endured from age to age. Hers was no loud spectacular sacrifice, no cross on a hilltop, with the world agaze, and monstrous miracles to echo the applause of heaven. She suffered and triumphed in most shameful silence; she had no friend, no follower, none to aid or approve. For thank she had but maudlin flatteries, and knew what cruel-cold scorn the hearts of men scarce cared to hide.
She agonized, ridiculous and obscene; gave all her beauty and strength of maidenhood to suffer sickness, weakness, danger of death, choosing to live the life of a cow— that so Mankind might sail the seas of Time.
She knew that man wanted nothing of her but service of his base appetites; in his true manhood-life she had nor part nor lot; and all her wage was his careless contempt.
She hath been trampled thus through all the ages, and she hath tamed them thus. Her silence was the token of her triumph.
But now the Word of Me the Beast is this: not only art thou Woman, sworn to a purpose not thine own; thou art thyself a star, and in thyself a purpose to thyself. Not only mother of men art thou, or whore to men; serf to their need of Life and Love, not sharing in their Light and Liberty; nay, thou art Mother and Whore for thine own pleasure; the Word I say to Man I say to thee no less: Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law!
Ay, priest, ay, lawyer, ay, censor! Will ye not gather in secret once again, if in your hoard of juggler’s tricks there be not one untried, or in your cunning and counsel one device new-false to save your pirate ship from sinking?
It has always been so easy up to now! What is the blasting Magick in that Word, first thesis of The Book of the Law, that “every woman is a star”?
Alas! it is I the Beast that roared that Word so loud, and wakened Beauty.
Your tricks, your drowsy drugs, your lies, your hypnotic passes—they will not serve you.
Make up your minds to be free men, fearless as I, fit mates for women no less free and fearless!
For I, The Beast, am come; an end to the evils of old, to the duping and clubbing of abject and ailing animals, degraded to that shameful state to serve that shameful pleasure.
The essence of my Word is to declare Woman to be Herself, of, to, and for Herself, and I give this one irresistible Weapon, the expression of Herself and Her will through sex, to Her on precisely the same terms as to man.
Murder is no longer to be dreaded; the economic weapon is powerless since female labour has been found industrially valuable; and the social weapon is entirely in her own hands.
The best women have always been sexually free, like the best men; it is only necessary to remove the penalties for being found out. Let Women’s labour organizations support any individual who is economically harried on sexual grounds. Let social organizations honour in public what their members practise in private.
Most domestic unhappiness will disappear automatically, for its chief cause is the sexual dissatisfaction of wives, or the anxiety (or other mental strain) engendered should they take the remedy in their own hands.
The crime of abortion will lose its motive in all but the most exceptional cases.
Blackmail will be confined to commercial and political offences, thus diminishing its frequency by two-thirds, at least, maybe much more.
Social scandals and jealousies will tend to disappear.
Sexual disease will be easier to track and to combat, when it is no longer a disgrace to admit it.
Prostitution (with its attendant crimes) will tend to disappear, as it will cease to offer exorbitant profits to those who exploit it. The preoccupation of the minds of the public with sexual questions will no longer breed moral disease and insanity, when the sex-appetite is treated as simply as hunger. Frankness of speech and writing on sexual questions will dispel the ignorance which entraps so many unfortunate people; proper precautions against actual dangers will replace unnecessary and absurd precautions against imaginary or artificial dangers; and the quacks who trade on fear will be put out of business.
All this must follow as the Light the night as soon as Woman, true to Herself, finds that She can no longer be false to any man. She must hold Hers elf and Her Will in honour; and She must compel the world to accord it.
The modern woman is not going to be dupe, slave, and victim any more; the woman who gives herself up freely to her own enjoyment, without asking recompense, will earn the respect of her brothers, and will openly despise her “chaste” or venal sisters, as men now despise “milksops”, “sissies”, and “tango lizards”. Love is to be divorced utterly and irrevocably from social and financial agreements, especially marriage. Love is a sport, an art, a religion, as you will; it is not an ol’ clo’ Emporium.
”Mary inviolate” is to be “torn upon wheels” because tearing is the only treatment for her; and RV, a wheel, is the name of the feminine principle. [See Liber D.] It is her own sisters who are to punish her for the crime of denying Her nature, not men who are to redeem her, since, as above remarked, it is man’s own false sense of guilt, his selfishness, and his cowardice, which originally forced her to blaspheme against herself, and so degraded her in her own eyes, and in his. Let him attend to his own particular business, to redeem himself—he has surely his hands full! Woman will save herself if she be but left alone to do it. I see it, I, the Beast, who have seen—who see—Space splendid with stars, who have seen—who see—the Body of our Lady Nuit, all-pervading, and therein swallowed up, to have found—to find—no soul that is not wholly of Her. Woman! thou drawest us upward and onward for ever; and every woman is one among women, of Woman; one star of Her stars.
I see thee, Woman, thou standest alone, High Priestess art thou unto Love at the Altar of Life. And Man is the Victim therein.
Beneath thee, rejoicing, he lies; he exalts as he dies, burning up in the breath of thy kiss. Yea, star rushes flaming to star; the blaze bursts, splashes the skies.
There is a Cry in an unknown tongue, it resounds through the Temple of the Universe; in its one Word is Death and Ecstasy, and thy title of honour, o thou, to Thyself High Priestess, Prophetess, Empress, to Thyself the Goddess whose Name means Mother and Whore!
Judas is showing of his latest self. It starts tomorrow, the 29th of the 8th. Be there or be a circle. Judas will be a circle.
Let me share this:
An Investment Manager’s View on the Top 1%
Although I do not agree with all of the above, I do believe there is something completely rotten about the present economic system. As the article indicates, most of the upper half of the 1% got their wealth from government related industries:
“Membership in this elite group is likely to come from being involved in some aspect of the financial services or banking industry, real estate development involved with those industries, or government contracting.”
This is indicative of a fascist system rather than a capitalist one. This means that people most successful at lobbying for access to freshly printed money (financial sector) and government contracts (Big pharma, Defence contractors etc) will end up the richest. The point of a free market is that services and goods offered to consumers should be the main driver of wealth creation. This obviously gets perverted when the largest consumer has a near monopsony on certain products and a monopoly on violence; that money-printing, property expropriating, warmongering thug is the government. THE GUBBURMNT!
Metro Bank is a new high street bank operating in the UK promising old-style service in an ultra-modern setting. But, Metro Bank also looks like a Las Vegas casino. For anyone familiarly with the gambling practices of ALL modern banks – recently made obvious by a total market implosion leading us into the present economic depression – the irony is overwhelming. But hey, at least the interior decorating of Metro Bank communicates something sordidly truthful; that we have now been occupied for real by The Casino Gulag Economic system.
Overall this development is more amusing than terrifying. In fact I hope all banks follow the example of the new casino looking bank. That way there will be no doubt that you are in fact entering the equivalent of a betting shop every time you enter a so called respectable bank. There will be no confusion anymore, and a run on a casino looking bank will simply be regarded as people taking bets of the table, which it in reality also is.
When even the banking starts imitating the consumerist pop art of the ugly, we have truly entered an area where the seduction of grandiose and stunning architecture now longer does the trick. One might speculate whether this is an art project itself with perverse honesty masquerading as marketing.
(A “Magic Money Machine to the left. Great news for all counterfeiters)
Yes and yes. A bank might as well get down dirty and go straight for the jugular of the impoverished classes it seeks to loot. Lots of light and blinking to attract desperate people suffering from a sever case of the Stockholm Syndrome. It’s finally clear; banking has turned from being the profession of prudent conservative bores, to the profession of used car salesmen with tacky gimmicks and flashing neon lights. I love it.
(Vernon Hill to your left. The co-founder of Metro Bank holding a frightened puppy he’s saving for Lunch. He says: “Go all in, in your local Metro Bank!)
Now that psychoanalysis is dead, or at least considered totally unrespectable by most of the scientific community, I think it proper to expose some rather speculative ideas on the subject of insanity. It seems to me that the never-ending struggle against the voices inside your head is the real cause of insanity. I say liberate them!
Courage in the face of your own mind is generally being suppressed as insanity, as abnormal. We are discouraged from talking to ourselves, from listening to the voices inside our heads and making vague incoherent statements about the way we perceive things. Instead we are thought to be clear, objective and restrained. There is also a general antipathy toward playfulness in general; a somewhat guarded approach to the unpredictable dangers of our own minds.
Nevertheless, we know from experience that having imaginary friends is not only common amongst children, but also among some highly accomplished people. The Norwegian philosopher Arne Naess caused some scornful laughs when he revealed that he had a pet piglet called Timotei and that he treated it as a real child. He got away with it though, being fairly old at the time, perhaps he was simply considered senile. Several prominent authors, including James Joyce whom Carl Jung thought was schizophrenic after reading Ulysses, claims to have been inspired by forces outside themselves for inspiration. Homer, Dante, Vergil, Shakespeare and Milton too I guess; all crazies for calling upon their imaginary friends whom they all called muses. Had they been alive today I’m sure some psychiatrist would be screaming from his lungs: “Give them Abilify before this gets out of hand!” John Nash got the Nobel price in Economics and said: “I wouldn’t have had good scientific ideas if I had thought more normally.” He has said, “If I felt completely pressureless I don’t think I would have gone in this pattern” Geez Louise! What a crazy old crackpot! Drug him into normalcy quickly!
Although not too controversial, a large part of the human population have socially accepted imaginary friends like guardian angels, saints and the old triune God himself. Not to say that these are unreal, but they certainly are invisible to the generic nonbeliever. I mean, who’s to say imaginary friends are imaginary anyways, they certainly appear real to some people! So, dear reader, please explore your own insanity before its too late.
Having promoted the dive into insanity, I must give some crucial guidelines.
But not today! Stay tuned for more productive insanity!
 You guessed rightly. Abilify is the modern catchall drug for unwanted mental states
I love the way Pat Robertson uses the word “antechamber”.
More here on the word http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Antechamber
Bebop of Beelzebub
Beelzebub dub a dub dub
Take the highroad to go low
Trembadi take it
That is the show
A city made of gold will never be old
Take the freeway I am told
Rubb a dub dee
What should I see
Racing cars are flashing over grandmothers three
Garbage comes out way
Never to be told,
I am old, I am cold
Bushwax takes hold
Rarely when sold
I am not the am that I think I am
I am Sam
The sister, the mister
Rub a dub dee
Merry go wee
I’m getting tired
I’m getting awake
I energize myself like the father of Jack,
Take that to the track
Eat a snack
Do a hack
Take a stack
Money will come flowing very soon
It’s called Magick what I do
Money is helpful and so it should come
I will be rich and I will be gone
I will be strong
At least that’s what I think
You fucker, don’t blink
Keep staring at that spell you put out,
Soon the money will follow you
Soon the money will come flying to you
And then you can spell out love or whatever else you like
Or you can do it now, cow
Or you can do it now
So, you decide to give up. I commend you for this courageous decision. This requires you to ignore the opinions of others for a while, and once commenced it should be committed to fully. No more backpedalling into your old habits of worrying about rent payments and social status. Forget about it, it’s unbecoming of a person who does not give a hoot.
So, what should be your initial leap into resignation? Start by making a list to get your new life started. Then throw the list away, because it’s integral to giving up that you give up this sort of nonsense too. Also, you should refrain from reading tips like the tips I’m giving you now on how to live your life. I mean honestly, it’s hardly graceful to be struggling with insecurities about your own choices after having totally given up, it just shows you haven’t given up yet!
Graceful is what a cat is, and the cat does not plan or take my advice on anything. It comes and goes as it pleases, sometimes giving me a dead mouse as a gift, but that’s it. I like him because he does not bug me about his neuroses like a dog. He is friendly and impulsive, like some ancient daoist sage. You will find too that you will be well liked if you commit to giving up totally, but this I should not tell you as it might cloud your clean desire to stop worrying about everything.
The ultimate step however, is to get comfortable in giving up. Relax, the blame assigned to you comes from you, and the blame other people assign from you is them blaming themselves for something they see in you. So it’s really nothing to worry about, and you have every reason to relax about it. Don’t worry, every goal you ever gave up on were abstractions of your own mind. You spent countless hours trying to achieve them doing things you did not want, because you thought it would get you closer to that elusive goal. Now you can see that things are much easier than that. You can get to that goal without any effort, its right there in front of you. But this time around your goals are not abstractions but a tangible reality, and you are now totally free to go straight for them. You have after all given up on the superimposed structures of your mind; the invisible pathways you are supposed to travel in order to get there. Now, what is there is really there and is up for grabs and can be taken without ritual, without anxiety, without hesitation. Eat when you are hungry, drink when you are thirsty, you have nothing to worry about.
For those of you appreciating Ron Fricke’s work I give you Samsara. I can’t wait to see it in a totally suitable setting. Baraka pleased my estetic senses to the max, so I have great expectations for this long awaited movie. It has been postponed for many years now, and its finally here.
Let me just start by saying that I have opinions and that they matter. Let me tell you about all my opinions, and then change them according to my perceptions of popular opinions. Let me cover my old stupid and wrongful predictions by sending out a torrent of new ones. Let me write articles about right fashion and give incoherent political statements about the world according to my changing beliefs. Let me give you some advice on stocks and bonds, and then continue to give more advice when I’m wrong and say: nobody saw that crash coming, nobody saw that platform shoes would be passé. Or say nothing except continue to predict, and then predict the predictions of the predictors. Let me give you advice on how to advance your career, when my career is to give my petty opinions about how other people live their lives.
Let me guide you on that raft you have built out of your own misunderstandings about reality, and show you the way once the wave of popular opinion comes flowing. Let me abandon you once it hits too hard and surf some new fad I discovered. I race into being the first opinion holder and that makes me happy, regardless of the opinion. My mouth is an automatic machine that forms opinions in milliseconds according to circumstances, shooting them out before I get the chance to think them through. Being there in the fray of opinion makers is my striving, being heard and participating in world-changing debates about cupcakes. I get sexually aroused by giving advice on sex. I get sexually aroused by giving advice on unruly teenagers. I get sexually aroused by lambasting bad guys, and wrong opinions, and telling the world that I matter and advising on giving advice. I feel powerful being an extremist, and I feel wise and normal and accepted when moderating my opinions to suit my audience. I join political parties to show that I’m serious, and change sides to show that I’m even more serious. I incriminate the world with my words on diet and promiscuous dancing on TV.
However I know a way of flying above this nonsense, I know how to desensitise myself from the nature of this wilful struggle for relevance. I just spew enough garbage out that every word and every sentence eventually becomes utterly meaningless. The commentary of my commentary becomes the commentary of comments, so I raise myself above those petty sidestepping-debates and critique the critiques. This is how I am the voice inside your head telling you what to think about thinking. And thus I transcend all that garbage; I will be on my way forming incoherent casual links somewhere else.