by J.F.C. Fuller

Argentum Astrum
Publication in Class A

A NOTE UPON LIBER DCCCCLXIII

1. Let the student recite this book, particularly the 169 adorations, unto his Star as it ariseth.
2. Let him seek out diligently in the sky his Star; let him travel thereunto in his Shell; let him adore it unceasingly from its rising even unto its setting by the right adorations, with chants that shall be harmonious therewith.
3. Let him rock himself to and fro in adoration; let him spin around his own axis in adoration; let him leap up and down in adoration.
4. Let him inflame himself in the adoration, speeding from slow to fast, until he can no more.
5. This also shall be sung in open places, as heaths, mountains, woods, and by streams and upon islands.
6. Moreover, ye shall build you fortified places in great cities; caverns and tombs shall be made glad with your praise.
7. Amen.

THE TREASURE HOUSE OF IMAGES

Here beginneth the Book of the Meditations on the Twelvefold Adora- tion, and the Unity of GOD.

The Chapter known as
The Perception of God
that is revealed unto man for a snare

I adore Thee by the Twelvefold Snare and by the Unity thereof.

000. In the Beginning there was Naught, and Naught spake unto Naught saying: Let us beget on the Nakedness of our Nothingness the Limitless, Eternal, Identical, and United: And without will, intention, thought, word, desire, or deed, it was so.

00. Then in the depths of Nothingness hovered the Limitless, as a raven in the night; seeing naught, hearing naught, and understanding naught: neither was it seen, nor heard, nor understood; for as yet Countenance beheld not Countenance.

0. And as the Limitless stretched forth its wings, an unextended unextendable Light became; colourless, formless, conditionless, effluent, naked, and essential, as a crystalline dew of creative effulgence; and fluttering as a dove betwixt Day and Night, it vibrated forth a lustral Crown of Glory.

1. And out of the blinding whiteness of the Crown grew an Eye, like unto an egg of an humming-bird cherished on a platter of burnished silver.
2. Thus I beheld Thee, O my God, the lid of whose Eye is as the Night of Chaos, and the pupil thereof as the marshalled order of the spheres.
3. For, I am but as a blind man, who wandering through the noontide perceiveth not the loveliness of day; and even as he whose eyes are unenlightened beholdeth not the greatness of this world in the depths of a starless night, so am I who am not able to search the unfathomable depths of Thy wisdom.
4. For what am I that I durst look upon Thy Countenance, purblind one of small understanding that I am, blindly groping through the night of mine ignorance like unto a little maggot hid in the dark depths of a corrupted corpse?
5. Therefore, O my God, fashion me into a five-pointed star of ruby burning beneath the foundations of Thy Unity, that I may mount the pillar of Thy Glory, and be lost in adoration of the triple Unity of Thy Godhead, I beseech Thee, O Thou who art to me as the Finger of Light thrust through the black clouds of Chaos; I beseech Thee, O my God, hearken Thou unto my cry!
6. Then, O my God, am I not risen as the sun that eateth up ocean as a golden lion that feedeth on a blue-grey wolf? So shall I become one with Thy Beauty, worn upon Thy breast as the Centre of a Sixfold Star of ruby and of sapphire.
7. Yea, O God, gird Thou me upon Thy thigh as a warrior girdeth his sword! Smite my acuteness into the earth, and as a sower casteth his seed into the furrows of the plough, do Thou beget upon me these adorations of Thy Unity, O My Conqueror!
8. And Thou shalt carry me upon Thine hip, O Thou flashing God, as a black mother of the South Country carrieth her babe. Whence I shall reach my lips to Thy pap, and sucking out Thy stars, shed them in these adorations upon the Earth.
9. Moreover, O God my God, Thou who hast cloven me with Thine amethystine Phallus, with Thy Phallus adamantine, with Thy Phallus of Gold and Ivory! thus am I cleft in twain as two halves of a child that is split asunder by the sword of the eunuchs, and mine adorations are divided, and one contendeth against his brother. Unite Thou me even as a split tree that closeth itself again upon the axe, that my song of praise unto Thee may be One Song!
10. For I am Thy chosen Virgin, O my God! Exalt Thou me unto the throne of the Mother, unto the Garden of Supernal Dew, unto the Unutterable Sea!

Amen, and Amen of Amen, and Amen of Amen of Amen, and Amen of Amen of Amen of Amen.

The Chapter known as
The Twelvefold Affirmation of God and the Unity thereof
I adore Thee by the Twelve Affirmations and by the Unity thereof.

1. 
2. O Thou snow-clad volcan of scarlet fire, Thou flamecrested pillar of fury! Yea, as I approach Thee, Thou departest from me like unto a wisp of smoke blown forth from the window of my house.
3. 
4. O Thou summer-land of eternal joy, Thou rapturous garden of flowers! Yea, as I gather Thee, my harvest is but as a drop of dew shimmering in the golden cup of the crocus.
5. 
6. O Thou throbbing music of life and death, Thou rhythmic harmony of the world! Yea, as I listen to the echo of Thy voice, my rapture is but as the whisper of the wings of a butterfly.
7. 
8. O Thou burning tempest of blinding sand, Thou whirlwind from the depths of darkness! Yea, as I struggle through Thee, through Thee, my strength is but as a dove’s down floating forth on the purple nipples of the storm.
9. 
10. O Thou crowned giant among great giants, Thou crimson-sworded soldier of war! Yea, as I battle with Thee, Thou masterest me as a lion that slayeth a babe that is cradled in lilies.
11. 
12. O Thou shadowy vista of Darkness, Thou cryptic Book of the fir-clad hills! Yea, as I search the key of Thy house I find my hope but as a rushlight sheltered in the hands of a little child.
13. 
14. O Thou great labour of the Firmament, Thou tempest tossed roaring of the Aires! Yea, as I sink in the depths of Thine affliction, mine anguish is but as the smile on the lips of a sleeping babe.
15. 
16. O Thou depths of the Inconceivable, Thou cryptic, unutterable God! Yea, as I attempt to understand Thee, my wisdom is but as an abacus in the lap of an aged man.
17. 
18. O Thou transfigured dream of blinding light, Thou beatitude of wonderment! Yea, as I behold Thee, mine understanding is but as the glimpse of a rainbow through a storm of blinding snow.
19. 
20. O Thou steel-girdered mountain of mountains, Thou crested summit of Majesty! Yea, as I climb Thy grandeur, I find I have but surmounted one mote of dust floating in a beam of Thy Glory.
21. 
22. O Thou Empress of Light and of Darkness, Thou pourer-forth of the stars of night! Yea, as I gaze upon Thy Countenance, mine eyes are as the eyes of a blind man smitten by a torch of burning fire.
23. 
24. O Thou crimson gladness of the midnight, Thou flamingo North of brooding light! Yea, as I rise up before Thee, my joy is but as a raindrop smitten through by an arrow of the Western Sun.
25. 
26. O Thou golden Crown of the Universe, Thou diadem of dazzling brightness! Yea, as I burn up before Thee, my light is but as a falling star seen between the purple fingers of the Night.

Amen, and Amen of Amen, and Amen of Amen of Amen, and Amen of Amen of Amen of Amen.

The Chapter known as
The Twelvefold Renunciation of God and the Unity thereof
I adore Thee by the Twelve Renunciations and by the Unity thereof.

1. 
2. O my God, Thou mighty One, Thou Creator of all things, I renounce unto Thee the kisses of my mistress, and the murmur of her mouth, and all the trembling of her firm young breast; so that I may be rolled a flame in Thy fiery embrace, and be consumed in the unutterable joy of Thine everlasting rapture.
3. 
4. O my God, Thou mighty One, Thou Creator of all things, I renounce unto Thee the soft-lipp’d joys of life, and the honey- sweets of this world, and all the subtilities of the flesh; so that I may be feasted on the fire of Thy passion, and be consumed in the unutterable joy of Thine everlasting rapture.
5. 
6. O my God, Thou Mighty One, Thou Creator of all things, I renounce unto Thee the ceaseless booming of the waves, and the fury of the storm, and all the turmoil of the wind-swept waters; so that I may drink of the porphyrine foam of Thy lips, and be consumed in the unutterable joy of Thine everlasting rapture.
7. 
8. O my God, Thou Mighty One, Thou Creator of all things, I renounce unto Thee the whispers of the desert, and the moan of the simoom, and all the silence of the sea of dust; so that I may be lost in the atoms of Thy Glory, and be consumed in the unutterable joy of Thine everlasting rapture.
9. 
10. O my God, Thou Mighty One, Thou Creator of all things, I renounce unto Thee the green fields of the valleys, and the satyr roses of the hills, and the nymph lilies of the meer; so that I may wander through the gardens of Thy Splendour, and be consumed in the unutterable joy of Thine everlasting rapture.
11. 
12. O my God, Thou Mighty One, Thou Creator of all things, I renounce unto Thee the sorrow of my mother, and the threshold of my home, and all the labour of my father’s hands; so that I may be led unto the Mansion of Thy Light, and be consumed in the unutterable joy of Thine everlasting rapture.
13. 
14. O my God, Thou Mighty One, Thou Creator of all things, I renounce unto Thee the yearning for Paradise, and the dark fear of Hell, and the feast of the corruption of the grave; so that as a child I may be led unto Thy Kingdom, and be consumed in the unutterable joy of Thine everlasting rapture.
15. 
16. O my God, Thou Mighty One, Thou Creator of all things, I renounce unto Thee the moonlit peaks of the mountains, and the arrow-shapen kiss of the firs, and all the travail of the winds; so that I may be lost on the summit of Thy Glory, and be consumed in the unutterable joy of Thine everlasting rapture.
17. 
18. O my God, Thou Mighty One, Thou Creator of all things, I renounce unto Thee the goatish ache of the years, and the cryptic books, and all the majesty of their enshrouded words; so that I may be entangled in Thy wordless Wisdom, and be consumed in the unutterable joy of Thine everlasting rapture.
19. 
20. O my God, Thou Mighty One, Thou Creator of all things, I renounce unto Thee the wine-cups of merriment, and the eyes of the wanton bearers, and all the lure of their soft limbs; so that I may be made drunk on the vine of Thy splendour, and be consumed in the unutterable joy of Thine everlasting rapture.
21. 
22. O my God, Thou Mighty One, Thou Creator of all things, I renounce unto Thee the hissing of mad waters, and the trumpeting of the thunder, and all Thy tongues of dancing flame; so that I may be swept up in the breath of Thy nostrils, and be consumed in the unutterable joy of Thine everlasting rapture.
23. 
24. O my God, Thou Mighty One, Thou Creator of all things, I renounce unto Thee the crimson lust of the chase, and the blast of the brazen war-horns, and all the gleaming of the spears; so that like an hart I may be brought to bay in Thine arms, and be consumed in the unutterable joy of Thine everlasting rapture.
25. 
26. O my God, Thou Mighty One, Thou Creator of all things, I renounce unto Thee all that Self which is myself, that black sun which shineth in Self’s day, whose glory blindeth Thy Glory; so that I may become as a rushlight in Thine abode, and be consumed in the unutterable joy of Thine everlasting rapture.

Amen, and Amen of Amen, and Amen of Amen of Amen, and Amen of Amen of Amen of Amen.

The Chapter known as
The Twelvefold Conjuration of God and the Unity thereof
I adore Thee by the Twelve Conjurations and by the Unity thereof.

1. 
2. O Thou Consuming Eye of everlasting light set as a pearl betwixt the lids of Night and Day; I swear to Thee by the formless void of the Abyss, to lap the galaxies of night in darkness, and blow the meteors like bubbles into the frothing jaws of the sun.
3. 
4. O Thou ten-footed soldier of blue ocean, whose castle is built upon the sands of life and death; I swear to Thee by the glittering blades of the waters, to cleave my way within Thine armed hermitage, and brood as an eyeless corpse beneath the coffin-lid of the Mighty Sea.
5. 
6. O Thou incandescent Ocean of molten stars, surging above the arch of the Firmament; I swear to Thee by the mane-pennoned lances of light, to stir the lion of Thy darkness from its lair, and lash the sorceress of noontide into fury with serpents of fire.
7. 
8. O Thou intoxicating Vision of Beauty, fair as ten jewelled virgins dancing about the hermit moon; I swear to Thee by the peridot flagons of spring, to quaff to the dregs Thy chalice of Glory, and beget a royal race before the Dawn flees from awakening Day.
9. 
10. O Thou unalterable measure of all things, in whose lap lie the destinies of unborn worlds; I swear to Thee by the balance of Light and Darkness, to spread out the blue vault as a looking- glass, and flash forth therefrom the intolerable lustre of Thy Countenance.
11. 
12. O Thou who settest forth the limitless expanse, spanned by wings of thunder above the cosmic strife; I swear to Thee by the voiceless dust of the desert, to soar above the echos of shrieking life, and as an eagle to feast for ever upon the silence of the stars.
13. 
14. O Thou flame-tipped arrow of devouring fire that quiverest as a tongue in the dark mouth of Night; I swear to Thee by the thurible of Thy Glory, to breathe the incense of mine understanding, and to cast the ashes of my wisdom into the Valley of Thy breast.
15. 
16. O Thou ruin of the mountains, glistening as an old white wolf above the fleecy mists of Earth; I swear to Thee by the galaxies of Thy domain, to press Thy lamb’s breasts with the teeth of my soul, and drink of the milk and blood of Thy subtlety and innocence.
17. 
18. O Thou Eternal river of chaotic law, in whose depths lie locked the secrets of Creation; I swear to Thee by the primal waters of the Deep, to suck up the Firmament of Thy Chaos, and as a volcano to belch forth a Cosmos of coruscating suns.
19. 
20. O Thou Dragon-regent of the blue seas of air, as a chain of emeralds round the neck of Space; I swear to Thee by the hexagram of Night and Day, to be unto Thee as the twin fish of Time, which being set apart never divulge the secret of their unity.
21. 
22. O Thou flame of the horned storm-clouds, that sunderest their desolation, that outroarest the winds; I swear to Thee by the gleaming sandals of the stars, to climb beyond the summits of the mountains, and rend Thy robe of purple thunders with a sword of silvery light.
23. 
24. O Thou fat of an hundred fortresses of iron, crimson as the blades of a million murderous swords; I swear to Thee by the smoke-wreath of the volcano, to open the secret shrine of Thy bull’s breast, and tear out as an augur the heart of Thine all-pervading mystery.
25. 
26. O Thou silver axle of the Wheel of Being, thrust through the wings of Time by the still hand of Space; I swear to Thee by the twelve spokes of Thy Unity, to become unto Thee as the rim thereof, so that I may clothe me majestically in the robe that has no seam.

Amen, and Amen of Amen, and Amen of Amen of Amen, and Amen of Amen of Amen of Amen.

The Chapter known as
The Twelvefold Certitude of God and the Unity thereof
I adore Thee by the Twelve Certitudes and by the Unity thereof.

1. 
2. O Thou Sovran Warrior of steel-girt valour, whose scimitar is a flame between day and night, whose helm is crested with the wings of the Abyss. I know Thee! O Thou four-eyed guardian of heaven, who kindleth to a flame the hearts of the downcast, and girdeth about with fire the loins of the unarmed.
3. 
4. O Thou Sovran Light and fire of loveliness, whose flaming locks stream downwards through the aethyr as knots of lightening deep-rooted in the Abyss. I know Thee! O Thou winnowing flail of brightness, the passionate lash of whose encircling hand scatters mankind before Thy fury as the wind-scud from the stormy breast of Ocean.
5. 
6. O Thou Sovran Singer of the revelling winds, whose voice is as a vestal troop of Bacchanals awakened by the piping of a Pan-pipe. I know Thee! O Thou dancing flame of frenzied song, whose shouts, like unto golden swords of leaping fire, urge us onward to the wild slaughter of the Worlds.
7. 
8. O Thou Sovran Might of the most ancient forests, whose voice is as the murmur of unappeasable winds caught up in the arms of the swaying branches. I know Thee! O Thou rumble of conquering drums, who lulleth to a rapture of deep sleep those lovers who burn into each other, flame to fine flame.
9. 
10. O Thou Sovran Guide of the star-wheeling circles, the soles of whose feet smite plumes of golden fire from the outermost annihilation of the Abyss. I know Thee! O Thou crimson sword of destruction, who chasest the comets from the dark bed of night, till they speed before Thee as serpent tongues of flame.
11. 
12. O Thou Sovran Archer of the darksome regions, who shooteth forth from Thy transcendental crossbow the many-rayed suns into the fields of heaven. I know Thee! O Thou eight-pointed arrow of light, who smiteth the regions of the seven rivers until they laugh like Maenads with snaky thyrsus.
13. 
14. O Thou Sovran Paladin of self-vanquished knights, whose path lieth through the trackless forests of time, winding athrough the Byss of unbegotten space. I know Thee! O Thou despiser of the mountains, Thou whose course is as that of a lightening-hoofed steed leaping along the green bank of a fair river.
15. 
16. O Thou Sovran Surging of wild felicity, whose love is as the overflowing of the seas, and who makest our bodies to laugh with beauty. I know Thee! O Thou outstrider of the sunset, who deckest the snow-capped mountains with red roses, and strewest white violets on the curling waves.
17. 
18. O Thou Sovran Diadem of crowned Wisdom, whose work knoweth the path of the sylphs of the air, and the black burrowings of the gnomes of the earth. I know Thee! O Thou Master of the ways of life, in the palm of whose hand all the arts lie bounden as a smoke-cloud betwixt the lips of the mountain.
19. 
20. O Thou Sovran Lord of primaeval Baresarkers, who huntest with dawn the dappled deer of twilight, and whose engines of war are blood-crested comets. I know Thee! O Thou flame-crowned Self-luminous One, the lash of whose whip gathered the ancient worlds, and looseth the blood from the virgin clouds of heaven.
21. 
22. O Thou Sovran Moonstone of pearly loveliness, from out whose many eyes flash the fire-clouds of life, and whose breath enkindleth the Byss and the Abyss. I know Thee! O Thou fountain-head of fierce aethyr, in the pupil of whose brightness all things lie crouched and wrapped like a babe in the womb of its mother.
23. 
24. O Thou Sovran Mother of the breath of being, the milk of whose breasts is as the fountain of love, twin-jets of fire upon the blue bosom of night. I know Thee! O Thou Virgin of the moonlit glades, who fondleth us as a drop of dew in Thy lap, ever watchful over the cradle of our fate.
25. 
26. O Thou Sovran All-Beholding eternal Sun, who lappest up the constellations of heaven, as a thirsty thief a jar of ancient wine. I know Thee! O Thou dawn-wing’d courtesan of light, who makest me to reel with one kiss of Thy mouth, as a leaf cast into the flames of a furnace.

Amen, and Amen of Amen, and Amen of Amen of Amen, and Amen of Amen of Amen of Amen.

The Chapter known as
The Twelvefold Glorification of God and the Unity thereof
I adore Thee by the Twelve Glorifications and by the Unity thereof.

1. 
2. O Glory be to Thee, O God my God; for I behold Thee in the Lion Rampant of the dawn: Thou hast crushed with Thy paw the crouching lioness of Night, so that she may roar forth the Glory of Thy Name.
3. 
4. O Glory be to Thee, O God my God; for I behold Thee in the lap of the fertile valleys: Thou hast adorned their strong limbs with a robe of poppied corn, so that they may laugh forth the Glory of Thy Name.
5. 
6. O Glory be to Thee, O God my God; for I behold Thee in the gilded rout of dancing-girls: Thou hast garlanded their naked middles with fragrant flowers, so that they may pace forth the Glory of Thy Name.
7. 
8. O Glory be to Thee, O God my God; for I behold Thee in the riotous joy of the storm: Thou hast shaken the gold-dust from the tresses of the hills, so that they may chaunt forth the Glory of Thy Name.
9. 
10. O Glory be to Thee, O God my God; for I behold Thee in the stars and meteors of Night: Thou hast caparisoned her grey coursers with moons of pearl, so that they may shake forth the Glory of Thy Name.
11. 
12. O Glory be to Thee, O God my God; for I behold Thee in the precious stones of the black earth: Thou hast lightened her with a myriad eyes of magic, so that she may wink forth the Glory of Thy Name.
13. 
14. O Glory be to Thee, O God my God; for I behold Thee in the sparkling dew of the wild glades: Thou hast decked them out as for a great feast of rejoicing, so that they may gleam forth the Glory of Thy Name.
15. 
16. O Glory be to Thee, O God my God; for I behold Thee in the stillness of the frozen lakes: Thou hast made their faces more dazzling than a silver mirror, so that they may flash forth the Glory of Thy Name.
17. 
18. O Glory be to Thee, O God my God; for I behold Thee in the smoke-veil’d fire of the mountains: Thou hast inflamed them as lions that scent a fallow deer, so that they may rage forth the Glory of Thy Name.
19. 
20. O Glory be to Thee, O God my God; for I behold Thee in the countenance of my darling: Thou hast unclothed her of white lilies and crimson roses, so that she may blush forth the Glory of Thy Name.
21. 
22. O Glory be to Thee, O God my God; for I behold Thee in the weeping of the flying clouds: Thou hast swelled therewith the blue breasts of the milky rivers, so that they may roll forth the Glory of Thy Name.
23. 
24. O Glory be to Thee, O God my God; for I behold Thee in the amber combers of the storm: Thou hast laid Thy lash upon the sphinxes of the waters, so that they may boom forth the Glory of Thy Name.
25. 
26. O Glory be to Thee, O God my God; for I behold Thee in the lotus-flower within my heart: Thou hast emblazoned my trumpet with the lion-standard, so that I may blare forth the Glory of Thy Name.

Amen, and Amen of Amen, and Amen of Amen of Amen, and Amen of Amen of Amen of Amen.

The Chapter known as
The Twelvefold Beseechment of God and the Unity thereof
I adore Thee by the Twelve Beseechments and by the Unity thereof.

1. 
2. O Thou mighty God, make me as a fair virgin that is clad in the blue-bells of the fragrant hillside; I beseech Thee, O Thou great God! That I may ring out the melody of Thy voice, and be clothed in the pure light of Thy loveliness: O Thou God my God!
3. 
4. O Thou mighty God, make me as a Balance of rubies and jet that is cast in the lap of the Sun; I beseech Thee, O Thou great God! That I may flash forth the wonder of Thy brightness, and melt into the perfect poise of Thy Being: O Thou God, my God!
5. 
6. O Thou mighty God, make me as a brown Scorpion that creepeth on through a vast desert of silver; I beseech Thee, O Thou great God! That I may lose myself in the span of Thy light, and become one with the glitter of Thy Shadow: O Thou God, my God!
7. 
8. O Thou mighty God, make me as a green arrow of Lightning that speedeth through the purple clouds of Night; I beseech Thee, O Thou great God! That I may wake fire from the crown of Thy Wisdom, and flash into the depths of Thine Understanding: O Thou God, my God!
9. 
10. O Thou mighty God, make me as a flint-black goat that pranceth in a shining wilderness of steel; I beseech Thee, O Thou great God! That I may paw one flashing spark from Thy Splendour, and be welded into the Glory of Thy might: O Thou God, my God!
11. 
12. O Thou mighty God, make me as the sapphirine waves that cling to the shimmering limbs of the green rocks; I beseech Thee, O Thou great God! That I may chant in foaming music Thy Glory, and roll forth the eternal rapture of Thy Name: O Thou God, my God!
13. 
14. O Thou mighty God, make me as a silver fish darting through the vast depths of the dim-peopled waters; I beseech Thee, O Thou great God! That I may swim through the vastness of Thine abyss, and sink beneath the waveless depths of Thy Glory: O Thou God, my God!
15. 
16. O Thou mighty God, make me as a white ram that is athirst in a sun-scorched desert of bitterness; I beseech Thee, O Thou great God! That I may seek the deep waters of Thy Wisdom, and plunge into the whiteness of Thine effulgence: O Thou God, my God!
17. 
18. O Thou mighty God, make me as a thunder-smitten bull that is drunk upon the vintage of Thy blood; I beseech Thee, O Thou great God! That I may bellow through the universe Thy Power, and trample the nectar-sweet grapes of Thine Essence: O Thou God, my God!
19. 
20. O Thou mighty God, make me as a black eunuch of song that is twin-voiced, yet dumb in either tongue; I beseech Thee, O Thou great God! That I may hush my melody in Thy Silence, and swell into the sweet ecstasy of Thy Song: O Thou God, my God!
21. 
22. O Thou mighty God, make me as an emerald crab that crawleth over the wet sands of the sea-shore; I beseech Thee, O Thou great God! That I may write Thy name across the shores of Time, and sink amongst the white atoms of Thy Being. O Thou God, my God!
23. 
24. O Thou mighty God, make me as a ruby lion that roareth from the summit of a white mountain; I beseech Thee, O Thou great God! That I may echo forth Thy lord-ship through the hills, and dwindle into the nipple of Thy bounty. O Thou God, my God!
25. 
26. O Thou mighty God, make me as an all-consuming Sun ablaze in the centre of the Universe; I beseech Thee, O Thou great God! That I may become as a crown upon Thy brow, and flash forth the exceeding fire of Thy Godhead: O Thou God, my God!

Amen, and Amen of Amen, and Amen of Amen of Amen, and Amen of Amen of Amen of Amen.

The Chapter known as
The Twelvefold Gratification of God and the Unity thereof
I adore Thee by the Twelve Gratifications and by the Unity thereof.

1. 
2. O Thou green-cloaked Maenad in labour, who bearest beneath Thy leaden girdle the vintage of Thy kisses; release me from the darkness of Thy womb, so that I may cast off my infant wrappings and leap forth as an armed warrior in steel.
3. 
4. O Thou snake of misty countenance, whose braided hair is like a fleecy dawn of swooning maidens; hunt me as a fierce wild boar through the skies, so that Thy burning spear may gore the blue heavens red with the foaming blood of my frenzy.
5. 
6. O Thou cloudy Virgin of the World, whose breasts are as scarlet lilies paling before the sun; dandle me in the cradle of Thine arms, so that the murmur of Thy voice may lull me to a sleep like a pearl lost in the depths of a silent sea.
7. 
8. O Thou wine-voiced laughter of fainting gloom, who art as a naked faun crushed to death between millstones of thunder; make me drunk on the rapture of Thy song, so that in the corpse-clutch of my passion I may tear the cloud-robe from off Thy swooning breast.
9. 
10. O Thou wanton cup-bearer of madness, whose mouth is as the joy of a thousand thousand masterful kisses; intoxicate me on Thy loveliness, so that the silver of Thy merriment may revel as a moon-white pearl upon my tongue.
11. 
12. O Thou midnight Vision of Whiteness, whose lips are as pouting rosebuds deflowered by the deciduous moon; tend me as a drop of dew in Thy breast, so that the dragon of Thy gluttonous hate may devour me with its mouth of adamant.
13. 
14. O Thou effulgence of burning love, who pursueth the dawn as a youth pursueth a rose-lipped maiden; rend me with the fierce kisses of Thy mouth, so that in the battle of our lips I may be drenched by the snow-pure fountains of Thy bliss.
15. 
16. O Thou black bull in a field of white girls, whose foaming flanks are as starry night ravished in the fierce arms of noon; shake forth the purple horns of my passion, so that I may dissolve as a crown of fire in the bewilderment of Thine ecstasy.
17. 
18. O Thou dread arbiter of all men, the hem of whose broidered skirt crimsoneth the white battlements of Space; bare me the starry nipple of Thy breast, so that the milk of Thy love may nurture me to the lustiness of Thy virginity.
19. 
20. O Thou thirsty charioteer of Time, whose cup is the hollow night filled with the foam of the vintage of day; drench me in the shower of Thy passion, so that I may pant in Thine arms as a tongue of lightning on the purple bosom of night.
21. 
22. O Thou opalescent Serpent-Queen, whose mouth is as the sunset that is bloody with the slaughter of day; hold me in the crimson flames of Thine arms, so that at Thy kisses I may expire as a bubble in the foam of Thy dazzling lips.
23. 
24. O Thou Odalisque of earth’s palace, whose garments are scented and passionate as spring flowers in sunlit glades; roll me in the sweet perfume of Thy hair, so that Thy tresses of gold may anoint me with the honey of a million roses.
25. 
26. O Thou manly warrior amongst youths, whose limbs are as swords of fire that are welded in the furnace of war; press Thy cool kisses to my burning lips, so that the folly of our passion may weave us into the Crown of everlasting Light.

Amen, and Amen of Amen, and Amen of Amen of Amen, and Amen of Amen of Amen of Amen.

The Chapter known as
The Twelvefold Denial of God and the Unity thereof
I adore Thee by the Twelve Denials and by the Unity thereof.

1. 
2. O Thou God of the Nothingness of All Things! Thou who art neither the Formless breath of Chaos; nor the exhaler of the ordered spheres: O Thou who art not the cloud-cradled star of the morning; nor the sun, drunken upon the mist, who blindeth men! I deny Thee by the powers of mine understanding; Guide me in the unity of Thy might, and lead me to the fatherhood of Thine all-pervading Nothingness; for Thou art all and none of these in the fullness of Thy Not-Being.
3. 
4. O Thou God of the Nothingness of All Things! Thou who art neither the vitality of worlds; nor the breath of star-entangled Being: O Thou who art not horsed ‘mid the centaur clouds of night; nor the twanging of the shuddering bowstring of noon! I deny Thee by the powers of mine understanding; Throne me in the unity of Thy might, and stab me with the javelin of Thine all-pervading Nothingness; for Thou art all and none of these in the fullness of Thy Not-Being.
5. 
6. O Thou God of the Nothingness of All Things! Thou who art neither the Pan-pipe in the forest; nor life’s blue sword wrapped in the cloak of death: O Thou who art not found amongst the echoes of the hills; nor in the whisperings that wake within the valleys! I deny Thee by the powers of mine understanding; Crown me in the unity of Thy might, and flash me as a scarlet tongue into Thine all-pervading Nothingness; for Thou art all and none of these in the fullness of Thy Not-Being.
7. 
8. O Thou God of the Nothingness of All Things! Thou who art neither the Crown of the flaming storm; nor the opalescence of the Abyss: O Thou who art not a nymph in the foam of the sea; nor a whirling devil in the sand of the desert! I deny Thee by the powers of mine understanding; Bear me in the unity of Thy might, and pour me forth from out the cup of Thine all-pervading Nothingness; for Thou art all and none of these in the fullness of Thy Not-Being.
9. 
10. O Thou God of the Nothingness of All Things! Thou who art neither the formulator of law; nor the Cheat of the maze of illusion: O Thou who art not the foundation-stone of existence; nor the eagle that broodeth upon the egg of space! I deny Thee by the powers of mine understanding; Swathe me in the unity of Thy might, and teach me wisdom from the lips of Thine all-pervading Nothingness; for Thou art all and none of these in the fullness of Thy Not-Being.
11. 
12. O Thou God of the Nothingness of All Things! Thou who art neither the fivefold root of Nature; nor the fire-crested helm of her Master: O Thou who art not the Emperor of Eternal Time; nor the warrior shout that rocketh the Byss of Space! I deny Thee by the powers of mine understanding; Raise me in the unity of Thy might, and suckle me at the swol’n breasts of Thine all-pervading Nothingness; for Thou art all and none of these in the fullness of Thy Not-Being.
13. 
14. O Thou God of the Nothingness of All Things! Thou who art neither the golden bull of the heavens; nor the crimsoned fountain of the lusts of men: O Thou who reclinest not upon the Waggon of Night; nor restest Thine hand upon the handle of the Plough! I deny Thee by the powers of mine understanding; Urge me in the unity of Thy might, and drench me with the red vintage of Thine all-pervading Nothingness; for Thou art all and none of these in the fullness of Thy Not-Being.
15. 
16. O Thou God of the Nothingness of All Things! Thou who art neither the starry eyes of heaven; nor the forehead of the crowned morning; O Thou who art not perceived by the powers of the mind; nor grasped by the fingers of Silence or of Speech! I deny Thee by the powers of mine understanding; Robe me in the unity of Thy might, and speed me into the blindness of Thine all-pervading Nothingness; for Thou art all and none of these in the fullness of Thy Not-Being.
17. 
18. O Thou God of the Nothingness of All Things! Thou who art neither the forge of Eternity; nor the thunder-throated womb of Chaos: O Thou who art not found in the hissing of the hail-stones; nor in the rioting of the equinoctial storm! I deny Thee by the powers of mine understanding; Bring me to the unity of Thy might, and feast me on honeyed manna of Thine all-pervading Nothingness; for Thou art all and none of these in the fullness of Thy Not-Being.
19. 
20. O Thou God of the Nothingness of All Things! Thou who art neither the traces of the chariot; nor the pole of galloping delusion: O Thou who art not the pivot of the whole Universe; nor the body of the woman-serpent of the stars! I deny Thee by the powers of mine understanding; Lead me in the unity of Thy might, and draw me unto the threshold of Thine all-pervading Nothingness; for Thou art all and none of these in the fullness of Thy Not-Being.
21. 
22. O Thou God of the Nothingness of All Things! Thou who art neither the moaning of a maiden; nor the electric touch of fire-thrilled youth: O Thou who art not found in the hardy kisses of love; nor in the tortured spasms of madness and of hate! I deny Thee by the powers of mine understanding; Weight me in the unity of Thy might, and roll me in the poised rapture of Thine all-pervading Nothingness; for Thou art all and none of these in the fullness of Thy Not-Being.
23. 
24. O Thou God of the Nothingness of All Things! Thou who art neither the primal cause of causes; nor the soul of what is, or was, or will be: O Thou who art not measured in the motionless balance; nor smitten by the arrow-flights of man! I deny Thee by the powers of mine understanding; Shield me in the unity of Thy might, and reckon me aright in the span of Thine all-pervading Nothingness; for Thou art all and none of these in the fullness of Thy Not-Being.
25. 
26. O Thou God of the Nothingness of All Things! Thou who art neither the breathing influx of life; nor the iron ring i’ the marriage feast of death: O Thou who art not shadowed forth in the songs of war; nor in the tears or lamentations of a child! I deny Thee by the powers of mine understanding; Sheathe me in the unity of Thy might, and kindle me with the grey flame of Thine all-pervading Nothingness; for Thou art all and none of these in the fullness of Thy Not-Being.

Amen, and Amen of Amen, and Amen of Amen of Amen, and Amen of Amen of Amen of Amen.

The Chapter known as
The Twelvefold Rejoicing of God and the Unity thereof
I adore Thee by the Twelve Rejoicings and by the Unity thereof.

1. 
2. Ah! but I rejoice in Thee, O Thou my God; Thou seven-rayed rainbow of perfect loveliness; Thou light-rolling chariot of sunbeams; Thou fragrant scent of the passing storm: Yea, I rejoice in Thee, Thou breath of the slumbering valleys; O Thou low-murmuring ripple of the ripe cornfields! I rejoice, yea, I shout with gladness! till, as the mingling blushes of day and night, my song weaveth the joys of life into a gold and purple Crown, for the Glory and Splendour of Thy Name.
3. 
4. Ah! but I rejoice in Thee, O Thou my God; Thou zigzagged effulgence of the burning stars; Thou wilderment of indigo light; Thou grey horn of immaculate fire: Yea, I rejoice in Thee, Thou embattled cloud of flashing flame; O Thou capricious serpent-head of scarlet hair! I rejoice, yea, I shout with gladness! till my roaring filleth the wooded mountains, and like a giant forceth the wind’s head through the struggling trees, in the Glory and Splendour of Thy Name.
5. 
6. Ah! but I rejoice in Thee, O Thou my God; Thou silken web of emerald bewitchment; Thou berylline mist of marshy meers; Thou flame-spangled fleece of seething gold: Yea, I rejoice in Thee, Thou pearly dew of the setting moon; O Thou dark purple storm-cloud of contending kisses! I rejoice, yea, I shout with gladness! till all my laughter, like enchaunted waters, is blown as an iris-web of bubbles from the lips of the deep, in the Glory and Splendour of Thy Name.
7. 
8. Ah! but I rejoice in Thee, O Thou my God; Thou who broodest on the dark depths of the deep; Thou lap of the wave-glittering sea; Thou bright vesture of the crested floods: Yea, I rejoice in Thee, Thou native splendour of the Waters; O Thou fathomless Abyss of surging joy! I rejoice, yea, I shout with gladness! till the mad swords of my music smite the hills, and rend the amethyst limbs of Night from the white embrace of Day, at the Glory and Splendour of Thy Name.
9. 
10. Ah! but I rejoice in Thee, O Thou my God; Thou cloud-hooded bastion of the stormy skies; Thou lightning anvil of anglel swords; Thou gloomy forge of the thunderbolt: Yea, I rejoice in Thee, Thou all-subduing Crown of Splendour; O Thou hero-souled helm of endless victory! I rejoice, yea, I shout with gladness! till the mad rivers rush roaring through the woods, and my re-echoing voice danceth like a ram among the hills, for the Glory and Splendour of Thy Name.
11. 
12. Ah! but I rejoice in Thee, O Thou my God; Thou opalescent orb of shattered sunsets; Thou pearly boss on the shield of light; Thou tawny priest at the Mass of lust: Yea, I rejoice in Thee, Thou chalcedony cloudland of light; O Thou poppy-petal floating upon the snowstorm! I rejoice, yea, I shout with gladness! till my frenzied words rush through the souls of men, like a blood-red bull through a white herd of terror-stricken kine, at the Glory and Splendour of Thy Name.
13. 
14. Ah! but I rejoice in Thee, O Thou my God; Thou unimperilled flight of joyous laughter; Thou eunuch glaive-armed before joy’s veil; Thou dreadful insatiable One: Yea, I rejoice in Thee, Thou lofty gathering-point of Bliss; O Thou bridal-bed of murmuring rapture! I rejoice, yea, I shout with gladness! till I tangle the black tresses of the storm, and lash the tempest into a green foam of twining basilisks, in the Glory and Splendour of Thy Name.
15. 
16. Ah! but I rejoice in Thee, O Thou my God; Thou coruscating star-point of Endlessness; Thou inundating fire of the Void; Thou moonbeam cup of eternal life: Yea, I rejoice in Thee, Thou fire-sandalled warrior of steel; O Thou bloody dew of the field of slaughter and death! I rejoice, yea, I shout with gladness! till the music of my throat smiteth the hills as a crescent moon waketh a nightly field of sleeping comets, at the Glory and Splendour of Thy Name.
17. 
18. Ah! but I rejoice in Thee, O Thou my God; Thou jewel-work of snow on the limbs of night; Thou elaboration of oneness; Thou shower of universal suns: Yea, I rejoice in Thee, Thou gorgeous, Thou wildering one; O Thou great lion roaring over a sea of blood! I rejoice, yea, I shout with gladness! till the wild thunder of my praise breaketh down, as a satyr doth a babe, the nine and ninety gates of Thy Power, in the Glory and Splendour of Thy Name.
19. 
20. Ah! but I rejoice in Thee, O Thou my God; Thou ambrosia-yielding rose of the World; Thou vaulted dome of effulgent light; Thou valley of venomous vipers: Yea, I rejoice in Thee, Thou dazzling robe of the soft rain-clouds; O Thou lion-voiced up-rearing of the goaded storm! I rejoice, yea, I shout with gladness! till my rapture, like unto a two-edged sword, traceth a sigil of fire and blasteth the banded sorcerers, in the Glory and Splendour of Thy Name.
21. 
22. Ah! but I rejoice in Thee, O Thou my God; Thou Crown of unutterable loveliness; Thou feather of hyalescent flame; Thou all-beholding eye of brightness: Yea, I rejoice in Thee, Thou resplendent everlasting one: O Thou vast abysmal ocean of foaming flames! I rejoice, yea, I shout with gladness! till the stars leap like white coursers from the night, and the heavens resound as an army of steel-clad warriors, at the Glory and Splendour of Thy Name.
23. 
24. Ah! but I rejoice in Thee, O Thou my God; Thou star-blaze of undying expectation; Thou ibis-throated voice of silence; Thou blinding night of understanding: Yea, I rejoice in Thee, Thou white finger of Chaotic law; O Thou creative cockatrice twined amongst the waters! I rejoice, yea, I shout with gladness! till my cries stir the night as the burnished gold of a lance thrust into a poisonous dragon of adamant, for the Glory and Splendour of Thy Name.
25. 
26. Ah! but I rejoice in Thee, O Thou my God; Thou self-luminous refulgent Brilliance; Thou eye of light that hath no eyelid; Thou turquoise-studded sceptre of deed: Yea, I rejoice in Thee, Thou white furnace womb of Energy; O Thou spark-whirling forge of the substance of the worlds; I rejoice, yea, I shout with gladness! till I mount as a white beam unto the crown, and as a breath of night melt into the golden lips of Thy dawn, in the Glory and Splendour of Thy Name.

Amen, and Amen of Amen, and Amen of Amen of Amen, and Amen of Amen of Amen of Amen.

The Chapter known as
The Twelvefold Humiliation of God and the Unity thereof
I adore Thee by the Twelve Humiliations and by the Unity thereof.

1. 
2. O my God, behold me fully and be merciful unto me, as I humble myself before Thee; for all my searching is as a bat that seeks some hollow of night upon a sun-parched wilderness.
3. 
4. O my God, order me justly and be merciful unto me, as I humble myself before Thee; for all my thoughts are as a dust-clad serpent wind at noon that danceth through the ashen grass of law.
5. 
6. O my God, conquer me with love and be merciful unto me, as I humble myself before Thee; for all the striving of my spirit is as a child’s kiss that struggles through a cloud of tangled hair.
7. 
8. O my God, suckle me with truth and be merciful unto me, as I humble myself before Thee; for all my agony of anguish is but as a quail struggling in the jaws of an hungry wolf.
9. 
10. O my God, comfort me with ease and be merciful unto me, as I humble myself before Thee; for all the toil of my life is but as a small white mouse swimming through a vast sea of crimson blood.
11. 
12. O my God, entreat me gently and be merciful unto me, as I humble myself before Thee; for all my toil is but as a threadless shuttle of steel thrust here and there in the black loom of night.
13. 
14. O my God, fondle me with kisses and be merciful unto me, as I humble myself before Thee; for all my desires are as dewdrops that are sucked from silver lilies by the throat of a young god.
15. 
16. O my God, exalt me with blood and be merciful unto me, as I humble myself before Thee; for all my courage is but as the fang of a viper that striketh at the rosy heel of dawn.
17. 
18. O my God, teach me with patience and be merciful unto me, as I humble myself before Thee; for all my knowledge is but as the refuse of the chaff that is flung to the darkness of the void.
19. 
20. O my God, measure me rightly and be merciful unto me, as I humble myself before Thee; for all my praise is but as a single letter of lead lost in the gilded scriptures of the rocks.
21. 
22. O my God, fill me with slumber and be merciful unto me, as I humble myself before Thee; for all my wakefulness is but as a cloud at sunset that is like a snake gliding through the dew.
23. 
24. O my God, kindle me with joy and be merciful unto me, as I humble myself before Thee; for all the strength of my mind is but as a web of silk that bindeth the milky breasts of the stars.
25. 
26. O my God, consume me with fire and be merciful unto me, as I humble myself before Thee; for all mine understanding is but as a spider’s thread drawn from star to star of a young galaxy.

Amen, and Amen of Amen, and Amen of Amen of Amen, and Amen of Amen of Amen of Amen.

The Chapter known as
The Twelvefold Lamentation of God and the Unity thereof
I adore Thee by the Twelve Lamentations and by the Unity thereof.

1. 
2. O woe unto me, my God, woe unto me; for all my song is as the dirge of the sea that moans about a corpse, lapping most mournfully against the dead shore in the darkness. Yet in the sob of the wind do I hear Thy name, that quickeneth the cold lips of death to life.
3. 
4. O woe unto me, my God, woe unto me; for all my praise is as the song of a bird that is ensnared in the network of the winds, and cast adown the drowning depths of night. Yet in the faltering notes of my music do I mark the melody of universal truth.
5. 
6. O woe unto me, my God, woe unto me; for all my works are as a coiled-up sleeper who hath overslept the day, even the dawn that hovereth as a hawk in the void. Yet in the gloom of mine awakening do I see, across the breasts of night, Thy shadowed form.
7. 
8. O woe unto me, my God, woe unto me; for all my labours are as weary oxen laggard and sore stricken with the goad, ploughing black furrows across the white fields of light. Yet in the scrawling trail of their slow toil do I descry the golden harvest of Thine effulgence.
9. 
10. O woe unto me, my God, woe unto me; for all the hope of my heart hath been ravished as the body of a virgin that is fallen into the hands of riotous robbers. Yet in the outrage of mine innocence do I disclose the clear manna of Thy purity.
11. 
12. O woe unto me, my God, woe unto me; for all the passion of my love is mazed as the bewildered eyes of a youth, who should wake to find his beloved fled away. Yet in the crumpled couch of lust do I behold as an imprint the sigil of Thy name.
13. 
14. O woe unto me, my God, woe unto me; for all the joy of my days lies dishonoured as the spangle-veil’d Virgin of night torn and trampled by the sun-lashed stallions of Dawn. Yet in the frenzy of their couplings do I tremble forth the pearly dew of ecstatic light.
15. 
16. O woe unto me, my God, woe unto me; for all the aspirations of my heart ruin as in time of earthquake the bare hut of an hermit that he hath built for prayer. Yet from the lightning-struck tower of my reason do I enter Thy house that Thou didst build for me.
17. 
18. O woe unto me, my God, woe unto me; for all my joy is as a cloud of dust blown athwart a memory of tears, even across the shadowless brow of the desert. Yet as from the breast of a slave-girl do I pluck the fragrant blossom of Thy Crimson Splendour.
19. 
20. O woe unto me, my God, woe unto me; for all the feastings of my flesh have sickened to the wormy hunger of the grave, writhing in the spasms of indolent decay. Yet in the maggots of my corruption do I shadow forth sunlit hosts of crowned eagles.
21. 
22. O woe unto me, my God, woe unto me; for all my craft is as an injured arrow, featherless and twisted, that should be loosed from its bowstring by the hands of an infant. Yet in the wayward struggling of its flight do I grip the unwavering courses of Thy wisdom.
23. 
24. O woe unto me, my God, woe unto me; for all my faith is as a filthy puddle in the sinister confines of a forest, splashed by the wanton foot of a young gnome. Yet like a wildfire through the trees at nightfall do I divine the distant glimmer of Thine Eye.
25. 
26. O woe unto me, my God, woe unto me; for all my life sinks as the western Sun that struggles in the strangling arms of Night, flecked over with the starry foam of her kisses. Yet in the very midnight of my soul do I hold as a scarab the signet of Thy name.

Amen, and Amen of Amen, and Amen of Amen of Amen, and Amen of Amen of Amen of Amen.

The Chapter known as
The Twelvefold Bewilderment of God and the Unity thereof
I adore Thee by the Twelve Bewilderments and by the Unity thereof.

1. 
2. O what art Thou, O God my God, Thou snow-browed storm that art whirled up in clouds of flame? O Thou red sword of the thunder! Thou great blue river of ever-flowing Brightness, over whose breasts creep the star-bannered vessels of night! O how can I plunge within Thine inscrutable depths, and yet with open eye be lost in the pearly foam of Thine Oblivion?
3. 
4. O what art Thou, O God my God, Thou eternal incarnating immortal One? O Thou welder of life and death! Thou whose breasts are as the full breasts of a mother, yet in Thy hand Thou carriest the sword of destruction! O how can I cleave the shield of Thy might as a little wanton child may burst a floating bubble with the breast-feather of a dove?
5. 
6. O what art Thou, O God my God, Thou mighty worker laden with the dust of toil? O Thou little ant of the earth! Thou great monster who infuriatest the seas, and by their vigour wearest down the strength of the cliffs! O how can I bind Thee in a spider’s web of song, and yet remain one and unconsumed before the raging of Thy nostrils?
7. 
8. O what art Thou, O God my God, Thou forked tongue of the purple-throated thunder? O Thou silver sword of lightning! Thou who rippest out the fire-bolt from the storm-cloud, as a sorcerer teareth the heart from a black kid! O how can I possess Thee as the dome of the skies, so that I may fix the keystone of my reason in the arch of Thy forehead?
9. 
10. O what art Thou, O God my God, Thou amber-scal’d one whose eyes are set on columns? O Thou sightless seer of all things! Thou spearless warrior who urgest on Thy steeds and blindest the outer edge of darkness with Thy Glory! O how can I grasp the whirling wheels of Thy splendour, and yet be not smitten into death by the hurtling fury of Thy chariot?
11. 
12. O what art Thou, O God my God, Thou red fire-fang that gnawest the blue limbs of night? O Thou devouring breath of flame! Thou illimitable ocean of frenzied air, in whom all is one, a plume cast into a furnace! O how can I dare to approach and stand before Thee, for I am but as a withered leaf whirled away by the anger of the storm?
13. 
14. O what art Thou, O God my God, Thou almighty worker ungirded of slumber? O Thou Unicorn of the Stars! Thou tongue of flame burning above the firmament, as a lily that blossometh in the drear desert! O how can I pluck Thee from the dark bed of Thy birth, and revel like a wine-drenched faun in the banqueting-house of Thy Seigniory?
15. 
16. O what art Thou, O God my God, Thou dazzler of the deep obscurity of day? O Thou golden breast of beauty! Thou shrivelled udder of the storm-blasted mountains, who no longer sucklest the babe-clouds of wind-swept night! O how can I gaze upon Thy countenance of eld, and yet be not blinded by the black fury of Thy dethroned Majesty?
17. 
18. O what art Thou, O God my God, Thou seraph-venom of witch-vengeance enchaunted? O Thou coiled wizardry of stars! Thou one Lord of life triumphant over death, Thou red rose of love nailed to the cross of golden light! O how can I die in Thee as sea-foam in the clouds, and yet possess Thee as a frail white mist possessess the stripped limbs of the Sun?
19. 
20. O what art Thou, O God my God, Thou soft pearl set in a bow of effulgent light? O Thou drop of shimmering dew! Thou surging river of bewildering beauty who speedest as a blue arrow of fire beyond, beyond! O how can I measure the poisons of Thy limbeck, and yet be for ever transmuted in the athanor of Thine understanding?
21. 
22. O what art Thou, O God my God, Thou disrober of the darkness of the Abyss? O Thou veil’d eye of creation! Thou soundless voice who, for ever misunderstood, rollest on through the dark abysms of infinity! O how can I learn to sing the music of Thy name, as a quivering silence above the thundering discord of the tempest?
23. 
24. O what art Thou, O God my God, Thou teeming desert of the abundance of night? O Thou river of unquench’d thirst! Thou tongueless one who lickest up the dust of death and casteth it forth as the rolling ocean of life! O how can I possess the still depths of Thy darkness, and yet in Thine embrace fall asleep as a child in a bower of lilies?
25. 
26. O what art Thou, O God my God, Thou shrouded one veiled in a dazzling effulgence? O Thou centreless whorl of Time! Thou illimitable abysm of Righteousness, the lashes of whose eye are as showers of molten suns! O how can I reflect the light of Thine unity, and melt into Thy Glory as a cloudy chaplet of chalcedony moons?

Amen, and Amen of Amen, and Amen of Amen of Amen, and Amen of Amen of Amen of Amen.

The Chapter known as
The Twelvefold Unification of God and the Unity thereof
I adore Thee by the Twelve Unifications and by the Unity thereof.

1. O Thou Unity of all things: as the water that poureth through the fingers of my hand, so art Thou, O God my God. I cannot hold Thee, for Thou art everywhere; lo! though I plunge into the heart of the ocean, there still shall I find Thee, Thou Unity of Unities, Thou Oneness, O Thou perfect Nothingness of Bliss!
2. O Thou Unity of all things: as the hot fire that flameth is too subtle to be held, so art Thou, O God my God. I cannot grasp Thee, for Thou art everywhere; lo! though I hurl me down the scarlet throat of a volcano, there still shall I find Thee, Thou Unity of Unities, Thou Oneness, O Thou perfect Nothingness of Bliss!
3. O Thou Unity of all things: as the moon that waneth and increaseth in the heavens, so art Thou, O God my God. I cannot stay Thee; for Thou art everywhere; lo! though I devour Thee, as a dragon devoureth a kid, there still shall I find Thee, Thou Unity of Unities, Thou Oneness, O Thou perfect Nothingness of Bliss!
4. O Thou Unity of all things: as the dust that danceth over the breast of the desert, so art Thou, O God my God. I cannot seize Thee, for Thou art everywhere; lo! though I lick up with my tongue the bitter salt of the plains, there still shall I find Thee, Thou Unity of Unities, Thou Oneness, O Thou perfect Nothingness of Bliss!
5. O Thou Unity of all things: as the air that bubbleth from the dark depths of the waters, so art Thou, O God my God. I cannot catch Thee, for Thou art everywhere; lo! though I net Thee as a goldfish in a kerchief of silk, there still shall I find Thee, Thou Unity of Unities, Thou Oneness, O Thou perfect Nothingness of Bliss!
6. O Thou Unity of all things: as the cloud that flitteth across the white horns of the moon, so art Thou, O God my God. I cannot pierce Thee, for Thou art everywhere; lo! though I tangle Thee in a witch-gossamer of starlight, there still shall I find Thee, Thou Unity of Unities, Thou Oneness, O Thou perfect Nothingness of Bliss!
7. O Thou Unity of all things: as the star that travelleth along its appointed course, so art Thou, O God my God. I cannot rule Thee, for Thou art everywhere; lo! though I hunt Thee across the blue heavens as a lost comet, there still shall I find Thee, Thou Unity of Unities, Thou Oneness, O Thou perfect Nothingness of Bliss!
8. O Thou Unity of all things: as the lightning that lurketh in the heart of the thunder, so art Thou, O God my God. I cannot search Thee, for Thou art everywhere; lo! though I wed the flaming circle to the enshrouded square, there still shall I find Thee, Thou Unity of Unities, Thou Oneness, O Thou perfect Nothingness of Bliss!
9. O Thou Unity of all things: as the earth that holdeth all precious jewels in her heart, so art Thou, O God my God. I cannot spoil Thee, for Thou art everywhere; lo! though I burrow as a mole in the mountain of Chaos, there still shall I find Thee, Thou Unity of Unities, Thou Oneness, O Thou perfect Nothingness of Bliss!
10. O Thou Unity of all things: as the pole-star that burneth in the centre of the night, so art Thou, O God my God. I cannot hide Thee, for Thou art everywhere; lo! though I turn from Thee at each touch of the lodestone of lust, there still shall I find Thee, Thou Unity of Unities, Thou Oneness, O Thou perfect Nothingness of Bliss!
11. O Thou Unity of all things: as the blue smoke that whirleth up from the altar of life, so art Thou, O God my God. I cannot find Thee, for Thou art everywhere; lo! though I inter Thee in the sarcophagi of the damned, there still shall I find Thee, Thou Unity of Unities, Thou Oneness, O Thou perfect Nothingness of Bliss!
12. O Thou Unity of all things: as a dark-eyed maiden decked in crimson and precious pearls, so art Thou, O God my God. I cannot rob Thee, for Thou art everywhere; lo! though I strip Thee of Thy gold and scarlet raiment of Self, there still shall I find Thee, Thou Unity of Unities, Thou Oneness, O Thou perfect Nothingness of Bliss!
13. . O Thou Unity of all things: as the sun that rolleth through the twelve mansions of the skies, so art Thou, O God my God. I cannot slay Thee, for Thou art everywhere; lo! though I lick up the Boundless Light, the Boundless, and the Not, there still shall I find Thee, Thou Unity of Unities, Thou Oneness, O Thou perfect Nothingness of Bliss!

Amen, and Amen of Amen, and Amen of Amen of Amen, and Amen of Amen of Amen of Amen.

The Chapter known as
The Hundred and Sixty-Nine Cries of
Adoration and the Unity thereof

I adore Thee by the Hundred and Sixty- Nine Cries of Adoration and by the Unity thereof.

O Thou Dragon-prince of the air, that art drunk on the blood of the sunsets! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou Unicorn of the storm, that art crested above the purple air! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou burning sword of passion, that art tempered on the anvil of flesh! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou slimy lust of the grave, that art tangled in the roots of the tree! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou smoke-shrouded sword of flame, that art ensheathed in the bowels of earth! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou scented grove of wild vines, that art trampled by the white feet of love! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou golden sheaf of desires, that art bound by a fair wisp of poppies! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou molten comet of gold, that art seen through the wizard’s glass of Space! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou shrill song of the eunuch, that art heard behind the curtain of shame! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou bright star of the morning, that art set betwixt the breasts of night! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou lidless eye of the world, that art seen through the sapphire veil of space! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou smiling mouth of the dawn, that art freed from the laughter of the night! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou dazzling star-point of hope, that burnest over oceans of despair! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou naked virgin of love, that art caught in a net of wild roses! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou iron turret of death, that art rusted with the bright blood of war! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou bubbling wine-cup of joy, that foamest like the cauldron of murder! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou icy trail of the moon, that art traced in the veins of the onyx! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou frenzied hunter of love, that art slain by the twisted horns of lust! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou frozen book of the seas, that art graven by the swords of the sun! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou flashing opal of light, that art wrapped in the robes of the rainbow! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou purple mist of the hills, that hideth shepherds from the wanton moon! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou low moan of fainting maids, that art caught up in the strong sobs of love! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou fleeting beam of delight, that lurkest within the spear-thrusts of dawn! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou golden wine of the sun, that art poured over the dark breasts of night! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou fragrance of sweet flowers, that art wafted over blue fields of air! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou mighty bastion of faith, that withstandest all the breachers of doubt! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou silver horn of the moon, that gorest the red flank of the morning! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou grey glory of twilight, that art the hermaphrodite triumphant! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou thirsty mouth of the wind, that art maddened by the foam of the sea! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou couch of rose-leaf desires, that art crumpled by the vine and the fir! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou bird-sweet river of Love, that warblest through the pebbly gorge of Life! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou golden network of stars, that art girt about the cold breasts of Night! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou mad whirlwind of laughter, that art meshed in the wild locks of folly! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou white hand of Creation, that holdest up the dying head of Death! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou purple tongue of Twilight, that dost lap up the lucent milk of Day! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou thunderbolt of Science, that flashest from the dark clouds of Magic! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou red rose of the Morning, that glowest in the bosom of the Night! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou flaming globe of Glory, that art caught up in the arms of the sun! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou silver arrow of hope, that art shot from the arc of the rainbow! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou starry virgin of Night, that art strained to the arms of the morning! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou sworded soldier of life, that art sucked down in the quicksands of death! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou bronze blast of the trumpet, that rollest over emerald-tipped spears! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou opal mist of the sea, that art sucked up by the beams of the sun! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou red worm of formation, that art lifted by the white whorl of love! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou mighty anvil of Time, that outshowerest the bright sparks of life! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou red cobra of desire, that art unhooded by the hands of girls! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou curling billow of joy, whose fingers caress the limbs of the world! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou emerald vulture of Truth, that art perched upon the vast tree of life! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou lonely eagle of night, that drinkest at the moist lips of the moon! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou wild daughter of Chaos, that art ravished by the strong son of law! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou ghostly night of terror, that art slaughtered in the blood of the dawn! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou poppied nectar of sleep, that art curled in the still womb of slumber! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou burning rapture of girls, that disport in the sunset of passion! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou molten ocean of stars, that art a crown for the forehead of day! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou little brook in the hills, like an asp betwixt the breasts of a girl! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou mighty oak of magic, that art rooted in the mountain of life! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou sparkling network of pearls, that art woven of the waves by the moon! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou wanton sword-blade of life, that art sheathed by the harlot call’d Death! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou mist-clad spirit of spring, that art unrob’d by the hands of the wind! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou sweet perfume of desire, that art wafted through the valleys of love! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou sparkling wine-cup of light, whose foaming is the heart’s blood of the stars! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou silver sword of madness, that art smitten through the midden of life! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou hooded vulture of night, that art glutted on the entrails of day! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou pearl-grey arch of the world, whose keystone is the ecstasy of man! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou silken web of movement, that art blown through the atoms of matter! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou rush-strewn threshold of joy, that art lost in the quicksands of reason! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou wild vision of Beauty, but half seen betwixt the cusps of the moon! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou pearl cloud of the sunset, that art caught up in a murderer’s hand! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou rich vintage of slumber, that art crushed from the bud of the poppy! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou great boulder of rapture, that leapest adown the mountains of joy! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou breather-out of the winds, that art snared in the drag-net of reason! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou purple breast of the storm, that art scarred by the teeth of the lightning! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou Pillar of phosphor foam, that Leviathan spouteth from’s nostrils! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou song of the harp of life, that chantest forth the perfection of death! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou veiled beam of the stars, that art tangled in the tresses of night! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou flashing shield of the sun, as a discus hurled by the hand of Space! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou ribald shout of laughter, that echoest among the tombs of death! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou unfailing cruse of joy, that art filled with the tears of the fallen! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou burning lust of the moon, that art clothed in the mist of the ocean! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou one measure of all things, that art Dam of the great order of worlds! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou frail virgin of Eden, that art ravished to the abode of Hell! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou dark forest of wonder, that art tangled in a gold web of dew! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou tortured shriek of the storm, that art whirled up through the leaves of the woods! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou dazzling opal of light, that flamest in the crumbling skull of space! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou red knife of destruction, that art sheathed in the bowels of order! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou storm-drunk breath of the winds, that pant in the bosom of the mountains! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou loud bell of rejoicing, that art smitten by the hammer of woe! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou red rose of the sunset, that witherest on the altar of night! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou bright vision of sunbeams, that burnest in a flagon of topaz! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou virgin lily of night, that sproutest between the lips of a corpse! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou blue helm of destruction, that art winged with the lightnings of madness! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou voice of the heaving seas, that tremblest in the grey of the twilight! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou unfolder of heaven, red-winged as an eagle at sunrise! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou curling tongue of red flame, athirst on the nipple of my passion! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou outrider of the sun, that spurrest the bloody flanks of the wind! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou dancer with gilded nails, that unbraidest the star-hair of the night! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou moonlit pearl of rapture, clasped fast in the silver hand of the Dawn! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou wanton mother of love, that art mistress of the children of men! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou crimson fountain of blood, that spoutest from the heart of Creation! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou warrior eye of the sun, that shooteth death from the berylline Byss! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou Witch’s hell-broth of hate, that boilest in the white cauldron of love! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou Ribbon of Northern Lights, that bindest the elfin tresses of night! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou red sword of the Twilight, that art rusted with the blood of the noon! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou sacrificer of Dawn, that wearest the chasuble of sunset! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou bloodshot eye of lightning, glowering beneath the eyebrows of thunder! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou four-square Crown of Nothing, that circlest the destruction of worlds! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou bloodhound whirlwind of lust, that art unleashed by the first kiss of love! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou wondrous chalice of light, uplifted by the Maenads of Dawn! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou fecund opal of death, that sparklest through a sea of mother-of-pearl! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou crimson rose of the Dawn, that art fastened in the dark locks of Night! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou pink nipple of Being, thrust deep into the black mouth of Chaos! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou vampire Queen of the Flesh, wound as a snake around the throats of men! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou tender nest of dove’s down, built up betwixt the hawk’s claws of the Night! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou concubine of Matter, anointed with love-nard of Motion! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou flame-tipp’d bolt of Morning, that art shot out from the crossbow of Night! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou frail blue-bell of Moonlight, that art lost in the gardens of the Stars! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou tall mast of wreck’d Chaos, that art crowned by the white lamp of Cosmos! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou pearly eyelid of Day, that art closed by the finger of Evening! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou wild anarch of the Hills, pale glooming above the mists of the Earth! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou moonlit peak of pleasure, that art crowned by viper tongues of forked flame! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou wolfish head of the winds, that frighteth the snow-white lamb of winter! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou dew-lit nymph of the Dawn, that swoonest in the satyr arms of the Sun! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou mad abode of kisses, that art lit by the fat of murdered fiends! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou sleeping lust of the Storm, that art flame-gorg’d as a flint full of fire! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou soft dew of the Evening, that art drunk up by the mist of the Night! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou wounded son of the West, that gushest out Thy blood on the heavens! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou burning tower of fire, that art set up in the midst of the seas! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou unvintageable dew, that art moist upon the lips of the Morn! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou silver crescent of love, that burnest over the dark helm of War! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou snow-white ram of the Dawn, that art slain by the lion of the noon! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou crimson spear-point of life, that art thrust through the dark bowels of Time! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou black waterspout of Death, that whirlest, whelmest the tall ship of Life! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou mighty chain of events, that art strained betwixt Cosmos and Chaos! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou towering eagre of lust, that art heaped up by the moon-breasts of youth! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou serpent-crown of green light, that art wound round the dark forehead of Death! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou crimson vintage of Life, that art poured into the jar of the Grave! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou waveless Ocean of Peace, that sleepest beneath the wild heart of man! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou whirling skirt of the stars, that art swathed round the limbs of the AEthyr! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou snow-white chalice of Love, thou art filled up with the red lusts of Man! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou fragrant garden of Joy, firm-set betwixt the breasts of the morning! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou pearly fountain of Life, that spoutest up in the black court of Death! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou brindle hound of the Night, with thy nose to the sleuth of the Sunset! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou leprous claw of the ghoul, that coaxest the babe from its chaste cradle! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou assassin word of law, that art written in ruin of earthquakes! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou trembling breast of the night, that gleamest with a rosary of moons! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou Holy Sphinx of rebirth, that crouchest in the black desert of death! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou diadem of the suns, that art the knot of this red web of worlds! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou ravished river of law, that outpourest the arcanum of Life! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou glimmering tongue of day, that art sucked into the blue lips of Night! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou Queen-Bee of Heaven’s hive, that smearest thy thighs with honey of Hell! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou scarlet dragon of flame, enmeshed in the web of a spider! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou magic symbol of light, that art frozen on the black book of blood! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou swathed image of Death, that art hidden in the coffin of joy! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou red breast of the sunset, that pantest for the ravishment of Night! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou serpent of malachite, that baskest in a desert of turquoise! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou fierce whirlpool of passion, that art sucked up by the mouth of the sun! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou green cockatrice of Hell, that art coiled around the finger of Fate! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou lambent laughter of fire, that art wound round the heart of the waters! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou gorilla blizzard Air, that tearest out Earth’s tresses by the roots! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou reveller of Spirit, that carousest in the halls of Matter! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou red-lipped Vampire of Life, that drainest blood from the black Mount of Death! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou little lark of Beyond, that art heard in the dark groves of knowledge! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou summer softness of lips, that glow hot with the scarlet of passion! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou pearly foam of the grape, that art flecked with the roses of love! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou frenzied hand of the seas, that unfurlest the black Banner of Storm! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou shrouded book of the dead, that art sealed with the seven souls of man! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou writhing frenzy of love, that art knotted like the grid-flames of Hell! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou primal birth-ring of thought, that dost encircle the thumb of the soul! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

O Thou blind flame of Nothingness, as a crown upon my brow! I adore Thee, Evoe! I adore Thee, IAO!

Amen, and Amen of Amen, and Amen of Amen of Amen, and Amen of Amen of Amen of Amen.

The Chapter known as
The Unconsciousness of God
that is hidden from man for a sign

I adore Thee by the Twelvefold Sign and by the Unity thereof.

1. The Light of my Life is as the light of two moons, one rising and the other setting, one increasing and the other waning; the one growing fat as the other groweth lean, like a paunchy thief sucking dry a skin of amber wine. Yet though the light of the first devoureth the light of the second, nevertheless the light of the second disgorgeth the light of the first, so that there is neither the desire of light nor the need of light— all being as a woven twilight of day and night, a madness of mingling moons. Yet I behold!
2. Now mine eyes are seven, and are as stars about a star; and the lids of mine eyes are fourteen, two to each eye. Also have I seven arms to do the bidding of the seven eyes; and each arm hath an hand of three fingers, so that I may rule the great ocean and burn it up with the Spirit of Flame, and that I may drown the fire in the Abode of the Waters. Thus I am rendered naked; for neither flame nor water can clothe me; therefore am I as a breath of wind blown over an Earth of Adamant, that knoweth neither sorrow nor rejoicing; then do I abide as a River of Light between the Night of Chaos and the Day of Creation.
3. Two are the moons of my madness, like the horns on the head of a goat. And between them burneth a pyramid of flame, which consumeth neither but blindeth both, so that the one beholdeth not the other. Notwithstanding, when the one is lost in the water, and the other is burnt up in the flame, they become united in the form of a woman fashioned of Earth and of Air, who without husband is yet mother of many sons.
4. Now the Sons are in truth but one Son; and the one Son but a daughter draped and never naked; for her mother is naked, therefore is she robed. And she is called the Light of my Love, for she is concealed and cannot be seen, as the Sun burneth over her and drowneth her in fire, whilst below her surgeth the sea, whose waves are as flames of water. When thou hast licked up the ocean thou shalt not see her because of the fire; and when thou hast swallowed the Sun surely shall the waters be driven from thee, so that though the fire be thine the water hath slipped thee, as a dog its leash. Yet the path is straight.
5. Along it shalt thou journey, and then shalt thou learn that the fear of death is the blood of the world. So the woman dressed herself in the shrouds of the dead, and decked herself with the bones of the fallen; and all feared her, therefore they lived. But she feared life; therefore she wove a dew-moon in her tangled hair as a sign of the fickleness of Death, and wept tears of bitter sorrow that she should live in the blossom of her youth. And her tears crept like scorpions down her cheeks, and sped away in the darkness like serpents; and for each serpent came there an eagle which did carry it away.
6. “Why weep?” said the Balance swinging to the left. “Why laugh?” said the Balance swinging to the right. “Why not remain still?” answered the Hand that held the Balance. And the Balance replied: “Because on my right laughs Death and on my left weeps a Virgin.”
7. Then the voice of the Hand said to the girl: “Why weep?” And the maid answered: “Because Death maketh jest of my life.” Then the Hand stayed the Balance, and at once the girl saw that she was Death, and that Death that had sat opposite her was in truth a motherless babe. So she took the child she had conceived in the arms of fear, and went her way laughing.
8. And the infant grew strong; yet its strength was in its weakness; and though to look at it from before was to look upon a man-child, from behind it was a little girl with golden hair. Now, when the child wished to tempt a maid he faced and approached her; and when the child wished to tempt a man she turned her back on him and fled.
9. But one day the child met, at the self-same hour, Love; and the man, seeing a woman, approached her eagerly, and the woman, seeing a man, fled, so that he might capture her. Thus it came about that the child met the child and wondered, not knowing that the child had lost the child. So it was that they walked side by side.
10. Then that part of the child that was man loved and lusted for that part of the child that was woman; and each knew not that each was the other, and felt that they were two and yet one, nevertheless one and yet two. And when one said: “Who art thou?” the other answered at the self-same moment: “Who am I?”
11. Soon becoming perplexed if I were Thou, or if Thou were I, it came about that the I mingled with the Thou, and the Thou with the I, so that six added to ten became sixteen, which is felicity; for it is the interplay of the elements. Four are the elements that make man, and four are the elements that make woman. Thus was the child reborn.
12. But though the man ruleth the woman, and the woman ruleth the man, the Child ruleth both its mother and father, and being five is Emperor over the kingdom of their hearts. To its father it giveth four, and to its mother it giveth four, yet it remaineth five, for it hath of its father an half and of its mother an half; but in itself it is equal to both its father and its mother; for it is father of fathers and mother of mothers.

0. Therefore is it One Whole, and not two halves; and being One is Thirteen, which is called Nothing when it is All-things.

Amen without lie, and Amen of Amen, and Amen of Amen of Amen.

being the requirements of Minerval to III
in study and work in O.T.O. in the Order
as it has manifested under the Caliph.

Minerval Study Program

These are the practices and studies that the Order requires for the Minerval year. A formal examination is required in these matters (a perfect score is not necessary) before advancement to the First Degree.

1. Study THE BOOK OF THE LAW. Memorization of the first Chapter is suggested. This may be done a verse a day, with review at inter- vals–that’s often the easy way.
2. Keep a daily Journal or Magical Diary.
3. Practice LIBER RESH daily.
4. Become proficient in the Lesser Pentagram Banishing Ritual–twice daily use is wise.
5. Do “Will” at the beginnning of the main meal of the day
6. Study MAGICK IN THEORY AND PRACTICE. See the study guide in the 2nd issue of the O.T.O. NEWSLETTER.
7. Keep in touch! P.O. Box 2303, Berkeley, CA 94702 U.S.A. (415) 454- 5176 and 841-4833.

WILL:

Knock: 333 – 55555 – 333 (total 11 knocks)

“Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law.”

** What is thy will?

It is my will to eat and drink.

** To what end?

That my body may be fortified thereby.

** To what end?

That I may accomplish the Great Work.

“Love is the law, love under will.”

Knock: 1 “Fall to.”

May be done at all meals. Should be done at the principal meal.

First Degree Study Program

These are the practices that the Order requires for the First Degree. An examination is required in these practices ( a perfect score is not necessary) before advancement to the Second Degree.

1. Continue and elaborate the practices and studies of the Minerval Program. All are important.
2. Select and become proficient in at least one of the following: LIBER XXV, LIBER XLVI, LIBER V, or LIBER DCCC ( Liber Samekh ).
3. Begin or continue a particular study in one of the following: Qabalah, Divination, Yoga, Astral Workings or a like discipline.
4. Perform some work that will endure beyond your own physical life- time: write and be published, speak in public, produce a work of art, have and nuture a child or perform some similiar work that will pass beyond your own mind, and beyond the minds of your immediate associates.
5. Perform some work for the benefit of your Brothers and Sisters in the Order: Provide time and work in organization, correspond with isolated initiates, share your insights, volunteer for specific needed tasks within your abilities or perform some other service needed by the Order.
6. Join with fellow initiates in a Chapter, Lodge, or other group of the Order.
7. Analyze your magickal diary from some definite point of view; e.g. endeavor to determine the point at which virtue becomes vice, as: sympathy degenerating into pity, advice into meddling, temperance into apathy, excellence into illusion, gentleness into shallowness and like matters. Record your findings in your diary with both theoretical views and actual examples from your daily life.

Second Degree Study Program

These are the practices that the Order requires for the Second Degree. An examination is required in these practices ( a perfect score is not necessary ) before advancement to the Third Degree.

1. Continue with Minerval and First Degree programs. All are important.
2. Learn and become proficient in the following:

A) Liber Reguli
B) Perform in at least one group ritual.
C) Create and perform an original ritual.
D) Mantain a diary record of ritual workings.

1. Memorize the following columns from Liber 777: I, II, III, VII, XIV, XV, XVI, LVI, LV, CLXXIX, and at least two others of your choice.
2. Learn and become familiar with some part of the tradition or history of the O.T.O., and the signs, grips, and words of the Minerval through 2nd degree. Fulfill the 2nd degree obligation regarding Liber OZ.
3. Begin a general study of all these fields, specializing in one in greater depth:

A) Alchemy
B) Astrology
C) Qabalah
D) Tarot
E) Yoga
F) Another field approved by your Initiator.

( A recommended reading list will be provided ).

1. Take responsibility for some task that directly benefits our Order. With the 3rd degree the candidate should possess an ability to function as part of the Order in Official capacities.
2. Meditate on your heart Chakra.

Third Degree Study Program

Prepare your own program, after you have received the Third Degree. The program must have seven points, must include the previous programs in point one and must end with point 7: Meditate on your third eye. Model your plan on the earlier cirricula and submit it to your initiator and the Grand Lodge of the O.T.O. After your program has been approved, proceed.

1. I fly and I alight as an hawk: of mother-of-emerald are my mighty-sweeping wings.

2. I swoop down upon the black earth; and it gladdens into green at my coming.

3. Children of Earth! rejoice! rejoice exceedingly; for your salvation is at hand.

4. The end of sorrow is come; I will ravish you away into mine unutterable joy.

5. I will kiss you, and bring you to the bridal: I will spread a feast before you in the house of happiness.

6. I am not come to rebuke you, or to enslave you.

7. I bid you not turn from your voluptuous ways, from your idleness, from your follies.

8. But I bring you joy to your pleasure, peace to your languor, wisdom to your folly.

9. All that ye do is right, if so be that ye enjoy it.

10. I am come against sorrow, against weariness, against them that seek to enslave you.

11. I pour you lustral wine, that giveth you delight both at the sunset and the dawn.

12. Come with me, and I will give you all that is desirable upon the earth.

13. Because I give you that of which Earth and its joys are but as shadows.

14. They flee away, but my joy abideth even unto the end.

15. I have hidden myself beneath a mask: I am a black and terrible God.

16. With courage conquering fear shall ye approach me: ye shall lay down your heads upon mine altar, expecting the sweep of the sword.

17. But the first kiss of love shall be radiant on your lips; and all my darkness and terror shall turn to light and joy.

18. Only those who fear shall fail. Those who have bent their backs to the yoke of slavery until they can no longer stand upright; them will I despise.

19. But you who have defied the law; you who have conquered by subtlety or force; you will I take unto me, even I will take you unto me.

20. I ask you to sacrifice nothing at mine altar; I am the God who giveth all.

21. Light, Life, Love; Force, Fantasy, Fire; these do I bring you: mine hands are full of these.

22. There is joy in the setting-out; there is joy in the journey; there is joy in the goal.

23. Only if ye are sorrowful, or weary, or angry, or discomforted; then ye may know that ye have lost the golden thread, the thread wherewith I guide you to the heart of the groves of Eleusis.

24. My disciples are proud and beautiful; they are strong and swift; they rule their way like mighty conquerors.

25. The weak, the timid, the imperfect, the cowardly, the poor, the tearful — these are mine enemies, and I am come to destroy them.

26. This also is compassion: an end to the sickness of earth. A rooting-out of the weeds: a watering of the flowers.

27. O my children, ye are more beautiful than the flowers: ye must not fade in your season.

28. I love you; I would sprinkle you with the divine dew of immortality.

29. This immortality is no vain hope beyond the grave: I offer you the certain consciousness of bliss.

30. I offer it at once, on earth; before an hour hath struck upon the bell, ye shall be with Me in the Abodes that are beyond Decay.

31. Also I give you power earthly and joy earthly; wealth, and health, and length of days. Adoration and love shall cling to your feet, and twine around your heart.

32. Only your mouths shall drink of a delicious wine — the wine of Iacchus; they shall reach ever to the heavenly kiss of the Beautiful God.

33. I reveal unto you a great mystery. Ye stand between the abyss of height and the abyss of depth.

34. In either awaits you a Companion; and that Companion is Yourself.

35. Ye can have no other Companion.

36. Many have arisen, being wise. They have said “Seek out the glittering Image in the place ever golden, and unite yourselves with It.”

37. Many have arisen, being foolish. They have said, “Stoop down unto the darkly splendid world, and be wedded to that Blind Creature of the Slime.”

38. I who am beyond Wisdom and Folly, arise and say unto you: achieve both weddings! Unite yourselves with both!

39. Beware, beware, I say, lest ye seek after the one and lose the other!

40. My adepts stand upright; their head above the heavens, their feet below the hells.

41. But since one is naturally attracted to the Angel, another to the Demon, let the first strengthen the lower link, the last attach more firmly to the higher.

42. Thus shall equilibrium become perfect. I will aid my disciples; as fast as they acquire this balanced power and joy so faster will I push them.

43. They shall in their turn speak from this Invisible Throne; their words shall illumine the worlds.

44. They shall be masters of majesty and might; they shall be beautiful and joyous; they shall be clothed with victory and splendour; they shall stand upon the firm foundation; the kingdom shall be theirs; yea, the kingdom shall be theirs.

In the name of the Lord of Initiation. Amen.

THE STAR RUBY

Facing East, in the centre, draw deep deep deep thy breath closing thy mouth with thy right forefinger prest against thy lower lip. Then dashing down the hand with a great sweep back and out, expelling forcibly thy breath, cry APO PANTOS KAKODAIMONOS. With the same forefinger touch thy forehead, and say SOI, thy member, and say O PHALLE, [The secret sense of these words is to be sought in the numeration thereof.], thy right shoulder, and say ISCHUROS, thy left shoulder, and say EUCHARISTOS; then clasp thine hands, locking the fingers, and cry IAÕ. Advance to the East. Imagine strongly a Pentagram, aright, in thy forehead. Drawing the hands to the eyes, fling it forth, making the sign of Horus and roar THÉRION. Retire thine hand in the sign of Hoor-paar-Kraat.

Go round to the North and repeat; but say NUIT.

Go round to the West and repeat; but whisper BABALON.

Go round to the South and repeat; but bellow HADIT.

Completing the circle widdershins, retire to the centre and raise thy voice in the Paian, with these words IÕ PAN, with the signs of N.O.X.

Extend the arms in the form of a Tau and say low but clear:
PRO MOU IUNGES OPICHÕ MOU TELETARCHAI EPI DEXIA CHUNOCHES EPARISTERA DAIMONOS PHEG EI GAR PERI MOU O ASTÉR TÕN PENTE KAI EN TÉI STÉLÉI Õ ASTÉR TÕN EX ESTÉXE.

Repeat the Cross Qabalistic, as above, and end as thou didst begin.

By Philippus Theophrastus Bombast, Paracelsus the Great

NATURE begets a mineral in the bowels of the earth. There are two kinds of it, which are found in many districts of Europe. The best which has been offered to me, which also has been found genuine in experimentation, is externally in the figure of the greater world, and is in the eastern part of the sphere of the Sun. The other, in the Southern Star, is now in its first efflorescence. The bowels of the earth thrust this forth through its surface. It is found red in its first coagulation, and in it lie hid all the flowers and colours of the minerals. Much has been written about it by the philosophers, for it is of a cold and moist nature, and agrees with the element of water. So far as relates to the knowledge of it and experiment with it, all the philosophers before me, though they have aimed at it with their missiles, have gone very wide of the mark. They believed that Mercury and Sulphur were the mother of all metals, never even dreaming of making mention meanwhile of a third; and yet when the water is separated from it by Spagyric Art the truth is plainly revealed, though it was unknown to Galen or to Avicenna. But if, for the sake of our excellent physicians, we had to describe only the name, the composition; the dissolution, and coagulation, as in the beginning of the world Nature proceeds with all growing things, a whole year would scarcely suffice me, and, in order to explain these things, not even the skins of numerous cows would be adequate.

Now, I assert that in this mineral are found three principles, which are Mercury, Sulphur, and the Mineral Water which has served to naturally coagulate it. Spagyric science is able to extract this last from its proper juice when it is not altogether matured, in the middle of the autumn, just like a pear from a tree. The tree potentially contains the pear. If the Celestial Stars and Nature agree , the tree first of all puts forth shoots in the month of March; then it thrusts out buds, and when these open the flower appears, and so on in due order until in autumn the pear grows ripe. So is it with the minerals. These are born, in like manner, in the bowels of the earth. Let the Alchemists who are seeking the Treasure of Treasures carefully note this. I will shew them the way, its beginning, its middle, and its end. In the following treatise I will describe the proper Water, the proper Sulphur, and the proper Balm thereof. By means of these three the resolution and composition are coagulated into one.

CONCERNING THE SULPHUR OF CINNABAR.

Take mineral Cinnabar and prepare it in the following manner. Cook it with rain water in a stone vessel for three hours. Then purify it carefully, and dissolve it in Aqua Regis, which is composed of equal parts of vitriol, nitre, and sal ammoniac. Another formula is vitriol, saltpetre, alum, and common salt.

Distil this in an alembic. Pour it on again, and separate carefully the pure from the impure thus. Let it putrefy for a month in horse-dung; then separate the elements in the following manner. If it puts forth its sign{1}, commence the distillation by means of an alembic with a fire of the first degree. The water and the air will ascend; the fire and the earth will remain at the bottom. Afterwards join them again, and gradually treat with the ashes. So the water and the air will again ascend first, and afterwards the element of fire, which expert artists recognise. The earth will remain in the bottom of the vessel. This collect there. It is what many seek after and few find.

This dead earth in the reverberatory you will prepare according to the rules of Art, and afterwards add fire of the first degree for five days and nights. When these have elapsed you must apply the second degree for the same number of days and nights, and proceed according to Art with the material enclosed. At length you will find a volatile salt, like a thin alkali, containing in itself the Astrum of fire and earth{2}. Mix this with the two elements that have been preserved, the water and the earth. Again place it on the ashes for eight days and eight nights, and you will find that which has been neglected by many Artists. Separate this according to your experience, and according to the rules of the Spagyric Art, and you will have a white earth, from which its colour has been extracted. Join the element of fire and salt to the alkalised earth. Digest in a pelican to extract the essence. Then a new earth will be deposited, which put aside.

CONCERNING THE RED LION.

Afterwards take the lion in the pelican which also is found [at] first, when you see its tincture, that is to say, the element of fire which stands above the water, the air, and the earth. Separate it from its deposit by trituration. Thus you will have the true aurum potabile{3}. Sweeten this with the alcohol of wine poured over it, and then distil in an alembic until you perceive no acidity to remain in the Aqua Regia.

This Oil of the Sun, enclosed in a retort hermetically sealed, you must place for elevation that it may be exalted and doubled in its degree. Then put the vessel, still closely shut, in a cool place. Thus it will not be dissolved, but coagulated. Place it again for elevation and coagulation, and repeat this three times. Thus will be produced the Tincture of the Sun, perfect in its degree. Keep this in its own place.

CONCERNING THE GREEN LION.

Take the vitriol of Venus{4}, carefully prepared according to the rules of Spagyric Art; and add thereto the elements of water and air which you have reserved. Resolve, and set to putrefy for a month according to instructions. When the putrefaction is finished, you will behold the sign of the elements. Separate, and you will soon see two colours, namely, white and red. The red is above the white. The red tincture of the vitriol is so powerful that it reddens all white bodies, and whitens all red ones, which is wonderful.

Work upon this tincture by means of a retort, and you will perceive a blackness issue forth. Treat it again by means of the retort, repeating the operation until it comes out whitish. Go on, and do not despair of the work. Rectify until you find the true, clear Green Lion, which you will recognise by its great weight. You will see that it is heavy and large. This is the Tincture, transparent gold. You will see marvellous signs of this Green Lion, such as could be bought by no treasures of the Roman Leo. Happy he who has learnt how to find it and use it for a tincture!

This is the true and genuine Balsam{5}, the Balsam of the Heavenly Stars, suffering no bodies to decay, nor allowing leprosy, gout, or dropsy to take root. It is given in a dose of one grain, if it has been fermented with Sulphur of Gold.

Ah, Charles the German, where is your treasure? Where are your philosophers? Where your doctors? Where are your decocters of woods, who at least purge and relax? Is your heaven reversed? Have your stars wandered out of their course, and are they straying in another orbit, away from the line of limitation, since your eyes are smitten with blindness, as by a carbuncle, and other things making a show of ornament, beauty, and pomp? If your artists only knew that their prince Galen – they call none like him – was sticking in hell, from whence he has sent letters to me, they would make the sign of the cross upon themselves with a fox’s tail. In the same way your Avicenna sits in the vestibule of the infernal portal; and I have disputed with him about his aurum potabile, his Tincture of the Philosophers, his Quintessence, and Philosophers’ Stone, his Mithridatic, his Theriac, and all the rest. O, you hypocrites, who despise the truths taught you by a true physician, who is himself instructed by Nature, and is a son of God himself! Come, then, and listen, impostors who prevail only by the authority of your high positions! After my death, my disciples will burst forth and drag you to the light, and shall expose your dirty drugs, wherewith up to this time you have compassed the death of princes, and the most invincible magnates of the Christian world. Woe for your necks in the day of judgment! I know that the monarchy will be mine. Mine, too, will be the honour and glory. Not that I praise myself: Nature praises me. Of her I am born; her I follow. She knows me, and I know her. The light which is in her I have beheld in her; outside, too, I have proved the same in the figure of the microcosm, and found it in that universe.

But I must proceed with my design in order to satisfy my disciples to the full extent of their wish. I willingly do this for them, if only skilled in the light of Nature and thoroughly practised in astral matters, they finally become adepts in philosophy, which enables them to know the nature of every kind of water.

Take, then, of this liquid of the minerals which I have described, four parts by weight; of the Earth of red Sol two parts; of Sulphur of Sol one part. Put these together into a pelican, congelate, and dissolve them three times. Thus you will have the Tincture of the Alchemists. We have not here described its weight: but this is given in the book on Transmutations{6}.

So, now, he who has one to a thousand ounces of the Astrum Solis shall also tinge his own body of Sol.

If you have the Astrum of Mercury, in the same manner, you will tinge the whole body of common Mercury. If you have the Astrum of Venus you will, in like manner, tinge the whole body of Venus, and change it into the best metal. These facts have all been proved. The same must also be understood as to the Astra of the other planets, as Saturn, Jupiter, Mars, Luna, and the rest. For tinctures are also prepared from these: concerning which we now make no mention in this place, because we have already dwelt at sufficient length upon them in the book on the Nature of Things and in the Archidoxies. So, too, the first entity of metals and terrestrial minerals have been made, sufficiently clear for Alchemists to enable them to get the Alchemists’ Tincture.

This work, the Tincture of the Alchemists, need not be one of nine months; but quickly, and without any delay, you may go on by the Spaygric Art of the Alchemists, and, in the space of forty days, you can fix this alchemical substance, exalt it, putrefy it, ferment it, coagulate it into a stone, and produce the Alchemical Phoenix{7}. But it should be noted well that the Sulphur of Cinnabar becomes the Flying Eagle, whose wings fly away without wind, and carry the body of the phoenix to the nest of the parent, where it is nourished by the element of fire, and the young ones dig out its eyes: from whence there emerges a whiteness, divided in its sphere, into a sphere and life out of its own heart, by the balsam of its inward parts, according to the property of the cabalists.

HERE ENDS THE TREASURE OF THE ALCHEMISTS.

NOTES{1} The Sign is nothing else than the mark left by an operation. The house constructed by the architect is the sign of his handicraft whereby his skill and art are determined. Thus the sign is the achievement itself. – De Colica.

{2}The earth also has its Astrum, its course, its order, just as much as the Firmament, but peculiar to the element. So also there is an Astrum in the water, even as in the earth, and in like manner with air and fire. Consequently, the upper Astrum has the Astra of the elements for its medium and operates through them by an irresistible attraction. Through this operation of the superior and inferior Astra, all things are fecundated, and led on to their end. – Explicatio Totius Astronomiae. Without the Astra the elements cannot flourish. … In the Astrum of the earth all the celestial operations thrive. The Astrum itself is hidden, the bodies are manifest. … The motion of the earth is brought about by the Astrum of the earth. … There are four Astra in man (corresponding to those of the four elements), for he is the lesser world. – De Caducis, Par. II.

{3} Aurum Potabile, that is, Potable Gold, Oil of Gold, and Quintessence of Gold, are distinguished thus. Aurum Potabile is gold rendered potable by intermixture with other substances, and with liquids. Oil of Gold is an oil extracted from the precious metal without the addition of anything. The Quintessence of Gold is the redness of gold extracted therefrom and separated from the body of the metal. – De Membris Contractis, Tract II., c. 2.

{4} If copper be pounded and resolved without a corrosive, you have Vitriol. From this may be prepared the quintessence, oil, and liquor thereof. – De Morbis Tartareis. Cuprine Vitriol is Vitriol cooked with Copper. – De Morbis Vermium, Par. 6. Chalcanthum is present in Venus, and Venus can by separation be reduced into Chalcanthum. – Chirurgia Magna. Pars. III., Lib. IV.

{5} There is, indeed, diffused through all things a Balsam created by God, without which putrefaction would immediately supervene. Thus in corpses which are anointed with Balsam we see that corruption is arrested and thus in the physical body we infer that there is a certain natural and congenital Balsam, in the absence of which the living and complete man would not be safe from putrefaction. Nothing removes the Balsam but death. But this kind differs from what is more commonly called Balsam, in that the one is conservative of the living, and the other of the dead. – Chirurgia Magna, Pt. II., Tract II., c 3. The confection of Balsam requires special knowledge of chemistry, and it was first discovered by the Alchemists. – Ibid., Pt. I., Tract II., c. 4.

{6} It is difficult to identify the treatise to which reference is made here. It does not seem to be the seventh book concerning The Nature of Things, nor the ensuing tract on Cements. The general question of natural and artificial weight is discussed in the Aurora of the Philosophers. No detached work on Transmutations has come down to us.

{7} Know that the Phoenix is the soul of the Iliaster (that is, the first chaos of the matter of all things). … It is also the Iliastic soul in man. – Liber Azoth, S. V., Practica Lineae Vitae.

We may picture the dissociated complex, with the pressure of an instinct behind it, constantly seeking to evade the censor and return to consciousness, where its wishes can be translated into action; and see how the censor, reinforced by the whole weight of the character, resolutely refuses to permit its escape.

We have seen that the dissociated complex, following the ordinary laws of association, forms alliances with ideas which have a symbolical or fanciful connection with itself. These ideas, not being in themselves objectionable to the character, are permitted by the censor to enter consciousness; then the dissociated complex, taking advantage of its alliance with them, pours its bottled-up emotion along the association channels thus formed, and so obtains an outlet into consciousness, giving rise, however, to very different results from those which were its original intention, and producing those irrational likes, dislikes, and eccentricities which are characteristic of the person whose mind is not working smoothly.

An example of this is shown in the case of a woman who noticed that the brass plates on doctors’ doors had a peculiar fascination for her; when inquiry was made into her history, it was found that, in her youth, she had fallen in love with the family physician, who was a married man; feeling this affection to be wrong, she had firmly put it out of her life (i.e., put it into her subconscious). The association between the doctor and the brass plate was obvious enough, but as brass plates were unobjectionable, the censor offered no resistance to them, and the emotion which centered round the doctor whose image was buried in her subconscious was permitted to reach consciousness transferred to the innocent brass plate.

The subconscious makes use of symbolism in precisely the same way that the poet does, but it employs a device which the poet does not, it remembers that a pair of opposites have a connecting-link in their very polarity, and uses a negative to express a positive, if the positive is repugnant to the character. Thus an unmarried woman, whose healthy sex instinct has been denied fulfillment through husband and children, may become morbid, and read literature concerning the repression of the White Slave traffic ad nauseam ; and becoming worse, may develop what is called old maids’ insanity, and imagine that perfectly innocent men are pestering her with immoral attentions (which in her heart she secretly desires), and go to the police for protection.

Chapter 19: Fantasies, Dreams, and Delusions

We have already seen that emotion is intimately allied with instinct, and that it is the thrust of the urging instincts that drives us to action, making us seek to appease the needs of our nature and incidentally fulfill certain racial and evolutionary ends.

Our first attempt, urged on by these promptings, is to bring about the realization of our desires in the external world by means of bodily effort; but should this effort fail to achieve its purpose, or should circumstances deny us the opportunity to make this effort with any hope of success, then the mind often falls back upon a secondary achievement, and images its success in the realms of fantasy and make-believe, where there are no laws of cause and effect to check its operations, and Cinderella in her kitchen constructs a fantasy of the Prince’s ball. She sees her wish acted out to its fulfillment in the theater of her mind. This factor in our nature influences a large proportion of our mental processes, and is considered to be the chief factor in determining the nature, not only of our dreams, but also of the symptoms of nervous and mental diseases, as will be seen later.

During sleep the avenues of the physical senses, whereby impressions reach the mind, are more or less closed, and the ego, which never ceases its activities, is thrown back upon the resources of its memories. Unguided by the reason and judgment, it reviews these, following along the chains of associated ideas according to the laws of memory, which we considered in an earlier chapter.

These wanderings, however, though carried out with the illogicality which distinguishes the lower levels of our mind, are not entirely purposeless, being determined by various factors. It may be that physical or sensory impressions, dimly discerned during sleep through the partially closed doors of the senses, will give rise to a train of thought, or the matters upon which the mind has been busied during the day may continue to occupy it in an undirected fashion during sleep; but the dream-determining element to which most attention has been directed in modern psychology is the upsurging of the instinctive wishes which have been denied fulfillment in waking life, so that in our dreams we see realized, as in fantasy, the wishes which have failed to gain realization in reality, or may even have failed to gain access to our consciousness owing to the operation of the censor which strives to exclude from consciousness all distressing or repulsive matters; for in sleep all our painfully acquired civilization falls away from us, the higher centers of our being are in abeyance, and our primitive, natural self, controlled but never abolished, expresses its fundamental, untutored desires in their elemental form.

These wishes, however, are seldom expressed directly. So foreign are they to our civilized selves that even in sleep our habits of thinking assert themselves and exercise some check upon what shall be expressed; but they are generally distorted almost beyond recognition by the substitutions of more acceptable ideas for crude images of instinctive needs, and as the subconscious mind links ideas together according to their superficial or accidental associations, it will be seen that strange and tangled dramas will be acted out upon the stage of the mind in an effort to represent the fulfillment of some primitive instinctive wish.

Modern methods of psychological research make much use of dreams in the effort to investigate the levels of the mind to which we have no direct access, and psychotherapy uses the same method in order to trace the disorders of the mind to their cause. For if the train of thought which the mind has followed in its progression from a crude instinctive, often physical, wish to the completed dream-drama be traced back again from the images of the dream to the underlying ideas which gave rise to them, we can lay bare the hidden springs of motive and character; hence the great use that has been made of the method of dream analysis in modern psychotherapy.

It is interesting to note that the delusions of lunatics are constructed upon exactly the same principles as the fantasies of our castles in the air; they also represent the fulfillment of wishes that have been denied their realization, and have achieved their ultimate form through the same primitive methods of thinking that are responsible for our dreams; in fact, they may be looked upon as a fantasy which has progressed a step nearer realization than the day-dream.

The symptoms of the hysteric have a similar origin, but represent the wishes of dissociated complexes instead of the wishes of the whole personality as happens in insanity.

Thus we may see that, should our desires be denied expression in our lives, they will construct dream castles for themselves during sleep in which we may temporarily dwell as monarch of all we survey; and should these desires be very imperative, should a large part of our nature be involved in them, then the dream may overflow into waking consciousness, and we shall live among our own subjective mind pictures, instead of among objective realities, and act out the part we have assigned ourselves in the dream-drama, to the consternation of onlookers who pronounce us insane.

The lunatic, however, is not irrational, he is absolutely rational if once his premises be granted, for he carries the logical deductions from these premises to their ultimate conclusion. And once it be realized that some fundamental and essentially natural wish lies at the root of these fantasies which we see him acting out, then we shall see that the clue to the treatment of insanity lies in these wishes and the region of the mind that gives rise to them.

Chapter 20: Psychotherapy

While many forms of mental disease have a physical origin in the brain, nervous system, and state of the blood, many others are purely mental from beginning to end, although the body may be chosen as the scene of some of their manifestations. Modern medicine is learning to deal with mental diseases by mental methods, and of these the principal types may be of interest. It must be remembered, however, that psychotherapy is the youngest of the sciences, and is still in its experimental stage; and that though magnificent work has been done by the pioneers, they cannot claim to have said the last word upon the structure of the human mind, for even if they knew all that was to be known, leaving nothing to be discovered by future investigation, which they would be the last to claim on their own behalf, though their disciples are not always blessed with the same modesty of genius, evolution is moving on, with the human mind at its apex, so that statements which were true of human nature before the Great War may have to be modified and supplemented when the Great Peace becomes an established fact.

Our knowledge of the mind, its diseases and therapy, is far from complete. The investigation of each human mind is in the nature of a voyage of discovery; though the coastline of the mental landscape may be known to us, the hinterland is unmapped. We do not know what lies behind the human personality; we are equally ignorant of the exact nature of its relations with its environment, and while our knowledge is in this state we cannot speak upon any point with finality.

Chapter 21: Psychoanalysis

The foundations of this method and theory were laid by Sigmund Freud of Vienna, and set forth by him in his epoch-making book, The Interpretation of Dreams , published in 1900. Two schools of psychoanalysis exist at the present time: the Vienna school, which adheres strictly to the doctrines of Freud; and the Zürich school, which subscribes to a modification of these doctrines as taught by Dr. Jung. While both schools agree upon general principles as to the anatomy of the mind, they differ in their teaching as to the modus operandi of mental disease. Freud holds that functional nervous disorders are due to the retention by the subconscious mind of an infantile attitude towards life, and especially towards sex, and that this attitude, which should have been outgrown and left behind, sets up stresses and strains in the mind which lead to the manifestations of mental disease. He gives us the concept of the accumulation of emotion in this wound in the mind, just as pus accumulates in an abscess, giving rise to tenderness and pain. He conceives the function of the psychoanalyst to be to lance this abscess by bringing the subject of distress into consciousness, whereby the repressed emotion is realized and fully experienced, and thereby got rid of. This process is technically known as ABREACTION.

The psychologist who conducts the analysis is very likely to be the recipient of this repressed emotion because, at the moment of its arrival in consciousness, he is apt to be standing in the line of fire. This acceptance of the repressed emotion by the operator is conceived to be a most important phase of the cure, and is known as the TRANSFERENCE.

That this factor of the transference opens a door to most serious difficulties and dangers cannot be denied. The via media between undue influence and callous indifference is hard to find. It is maintained that more analysis will work off the emotion which much analysis has succeeded in lying bare, but in actual practice the process is not so simple and often leads to complications.

This transference of emotion to the analyst, together with the deleterious effects of continual and prolonged dwelling upon the unsavory aspects of life which takes place in a psychoanalysis, constitute serious objections to this method of therapy.

Jung holds that mental disease is due to a failure of adaptation in the present, leading to regression to an infantile mode of thinking. It will thus be seen that the two theories, while based upon the same data, are fundamentally different, and must lead to differences in practical application.

Both schools explore the subconscious mind by means of dream analysis, and to this method the Zürich school also adds the method known as word reaction. The process of dream analysis is extremely complicated. Briefly, the patient is instructed to recount a dream, and this dream is then taken point by point, and the “free associations” traced out in the following manner. He is instructed to take an image in his dream as a starting-point, turn his mind loose, and watch where it goes, the theory being that it will retrace the association train of ideas by which the dream image was derived from the underlying wish. An elaborate technique exists for interpreting these dream images; so elaborate as to be beyond the scope of the present volume. How much of this technique is sound and how much is arbitrary is still a matter of opinion among psychologists; we have little data as yet as to the part played by unintentional suggestion on the part of the psychoanalyst, no doubt a considerable factor in some cases, and an exceedingly falsifying and misleading one.

The word association method of Jung is less open to objection on the ground of arbitrariness, and its operation is simpler. A list of anything from a dozen to a hundred or more words is made out. The first half-dozen words have usually no particular significance, but then follow a series of words believed to be specially associated with the different types of complex which may become split off from consciousness; lists of these have been worked out by different students of this school, but although one of these lists is usually used as a basis, the analyst generally inserts words which he believes will especially bear upon the patient’s particular problems. These words are called out to the patient, one at a time, and he is instructed to utter the first word that comes into his head in connection with each. The time he takes to do this is taken by a stop-watch usually working to one-fifth of a second. The first half-dozen of unimportant words will show the patient’s average reaction time, but if any words among the subsequent ones have special significance for him, there will be a perceptible lengthening of the time he takes to reply; moreover the replies may be curious, and either show special bearing upon his problems, or, by their irrelevancy, show that the original idea was discarded as unspeakable and a substitute hastily extemporized. If the list be read over again it will be found that, whereas those words which have no special significance are usually responded to by the same reaction word, those which bear upon the patient’s emotions produce a change in the reaction word. Free association is then resorted to, as in the case of dream symbols, to discover the underlying train of ideas and the factors in the subconscious from which they derive their emotion.

Many Freudians make use of this method also, and indeed the two methods of dream analysis and word association are generally regarded as supplementary. The chief value of the latter lies in the fact that it can be used in cases where the patient is either unable or reluctant to cooperate. The difference in the view-point of the two schools of psychoanalysis leads to a difference in the method of handling the patient; the Freudian who believes that all nerve trouble is due to the retention of infantile habits of thinking, confines himself to analysis and nothing but analysis, offering the patient little or nothing in the way of explanation or instruction, but simply aiding him to lay bare the depths of his subconscious mind, believing that by so doing pent-up emotions will be worked off and split-off complexes re-associated to the personality. The disciple of Jung, on the other hand, believing that the trouble is due to a present failure of adaptation, though using the psychoanalytic method to reveal and bring into consciousness the dissociated complexes, uses a considerable amount of teaching and explanation in an endeavor to enable the patient to assimilate the fruits of experience and adapt himself to his environment. The Freudian complains that the follower of Jung beclouds the issue by unintentional suggestion, and the latter accuses the former of unnecessarily prolonging the process by leaving the patient to find his own way unaided by a wider experience.

The teaching and explanatory method, generally known as re-education, is chiefly associated with the name of du Bois, who was its original exponent, but as, in his day, the psychoanalytic method of investigating the causes of mental disease was unknown, he was often groping in the dark, and dealing with secondary symptoms and effects, so that his method fell into disrepute in the eyes of the new school; but that this method, wisely handled, can be of great benefit in expediting a cure and lessening the painfulness of the process is beyond gainsay.

Chapter 22: Hypnosis, Suggestion, and Autosuggestion

Much popular misapprehension exists with regard to the phenomenon known as hypnosis. It may briefly be described as a condition in which the reason and judgment of the subject are in temporary abeyance, and any idea presented to him will be accepted without reflection, and take so strong a hold upon the mind that it will act itself out almost automatically. This condition of passive receptivity graduates from slight abstraction, almost indistinguishable from normal consciousness, to a condition resembling sleep, or the cataleptic rigidity of deep trance. Its manifestations and characteristics are manifold and most curious and instructive, but beyond the scope of the present work.

Different hypnotists use different methods of inducing this condition, but the main factor in all of them is the fixation and arrestation of the attention and the use of suggestion. It is generally held that it is autosuggestion on the part of the subject, induced by the hypnotist, that is the crux of the whole problem, and that without this internal cooperation, which is often of an unconscious and involuntary nature, the work of the operator would be unavailing.

Hypnosis is the oldest known method of psychotherapy, and, in conjunction with psychoanalysis, is coming to the front again in the treatment of nervous cases and especially of shell shock. The term suggestion is apt to be used somewhat loosely to denote any concept offered by one person to another, but in its psychological sense it is used to denote those ideas which are slipped into the mind of a person without being submitted to his judgment; in its psychotherapeutic sense, however, it is reserved for the process of inserting ideas in the mind while the patient is in a state of artificially induced drowsiness, but not unconscious under deep hypnosis. Autosuggestion, or the insertion of ideas in the subconscious by the conscious mind of the person concerned, has been reduced to a therapeutic system by the New Nancy School of psychology, and is associated with the name of Emile Coué. It is held by this school that suggestibility, or the faculty of permitting ideas to so possess the mind that they express themselves in action, is a normal human faculty; and although it is the cause of many, or even most of the ills that both mind and body are heir to, it is not in itself a morbid condition, but is a necessary factor in educability, evil only arising when wrong ideas exploit this faculty. We can, however, equally well make use of it for the expression of good ideas, with great benefit to our character and health. Suggestion, and, in intractable cases, hypnosis is made use of by the New Nancy School, not as a direct remedial method, but to teach the use of autosuggestion whereby the patient cures himself and is able to prevent any recrudescence of his malady. It is claimed that this method increases a person’s self-reliance instead of undermining it, and is of the greatest value, not only as a therapeutic agent, but as an educational method, and its use in this aspect is urged. But although it is of acknowledged value in the cure of disease, it is questionable whether it might not lead to artificiality and warping of the nature if applied to the growing mind that was developing along normal lines. Only the most judicious guidance could avoid this pitfall.

It is impossible in a book of this nature to give a knowledge of the psychotherapeutic methods that can be of any practical use; the reader must refer to the many text-books upon the subject if such is desired. It must, however, be realized that the modern methods of dealing with the mind are extremely potent, and that it is possible to completely wreck a nature by their injudicious use. A knowledge, however, of the principles of mental hygiene can be nothing but beneficial, though the actual treatment of mental or nervous disease should be avoided by the amateur, for, whatever his theoretical knowledge, the practical experience of hospital and asylum work can alone give accuracy of diagnosis. The beginnings of certain forms of insanity are very hard to distinguish from nerve trouble, even by the expert, and the amateur who tries his prentice hand upon such a case by mistake is likely to have his error painfully and forcibly impressed upon his mind. Psychotherapy is the youngest of the sciences and in a state of vigorous and healthy growth, but there is as yet no orthodox body of doctrine which is regarded as being thoroughly established and accepted by all schools of thought. The lay reader, for whom this book is designed, would do well to be on his guard against dogmatic expressions of opinion which may be presented to him, either in lecture or in print, for our knowledge is not in a state to warrant them. We have learned much, but we do not know all, and until we know much more than we do now, we must keep an open mind and judge tentatively. The popular vogue of applied psychology among those who are not in a position to form firsthand opinions makes this warning necessary. There is no “truth once and for all delivered” by a prophet on a mountain, but an earnest band of men and women adding stone by stone to the temple of human knowledge.

The various methods of psychotherapy outlined here have each and all their value, but no one of them is a panacea for all the ills that flesh is heir to; the science is in its infancy, and the percentage of cure is by no means satisfactory. There is no standard of training for either medical men or lay analysts and owing to the great emphasis laid upon sex by the modern schools, the method is open to grave abuses in inexpert or unclean hands.

Chapter 23: The Practical Application of Psychology

Those who have read the foregoing pages will see that there are certain broad divisions into which they fall. Let us now review these divisions in their relation to the practical art of living.

The first great division we studied was concerned with the levels into which the mind was divided and the types of thinking which were carried on in each of them. The problems of memory and concentration are closely concerned with these levels and the interrelations between them. If an idea, after entering the mind, disappears into the subconscious, we say it is forgotten and regard it as lost. This, we have seen, is not the case, however. It is stored in the subconscious, and we can make use of it even if we cannot gain direct access to it. There is an old story concerning the advice that was given to a judge newly raised to the bench, “Give your decision, it is probably right; but do not give your reasons, they are very likely to be wrong.” Which is merely a pithy way of saying: “Let your subconscious work out your decision in the light of the enormous masses of data it possesses, including the exact reproduction of every law-book you have ever read, every remark, however casual, you have ever heard, together with the accumulated experience of your race, all of which you are heir to, and it will probably be right; but if you try to rationalize this decision, to explain it in terms of your conscious knowledge, you may make mistakes, because your conscious mind does not know nearly as much as your subconscious.” If we would learn to trust our subconscious methods of thinking, we should be astonished to find what they are capable of. Genius might be defined as the power of utilizing the subconscious mind, and inspiration as a subliminal uprush.

Memory also can be greatly improved by taking advantage of the faculty of association of ideas, a faculty upon which the different memory systems are founded. If we take any idea we wish to remember and clearly image it in association with some idea of the same class that is so familiar to us that it is a permanent part of our mental furniture, then the two concepts will get stuck together, and we can always use the second to summon the first.

The instincts and their development and method of functioning form a second great division of our subject. It will be seen that we must view our life in relation to the instincts and not to the reason, but it must not be forgotten that the instincts themselves are evolving or rather perhaps becoming modified in their expressions by the pressure of new conditions, and in the course of their evolution are being steadily socialized and civilized, so although we must realize that, in their primitive form, they lie at the base of our being, yet in their evolved form they also function at its apex, and that if we are to live well, we must harmonize their manifestation upon every level of our being. The third and most important division, from the standpoint of practical living, is that which deals with the mechanisms by means of which the mind adapts itself to its environment. We should make it our aim to achieve adaptation in the conscious mind by absorbing and assimilating all experience, realizing that we can learn our lessons from that which is evil as well as from that which is good, and that any experience, however evil, from which we learn a lesson is converted from poison into food.

While it is necessary that certain types of ideas should be repressed lest they should translate themselves into action, let us never forget that repression need not necessarily imply dissociation, which is an unmixed evil. Dissociation would never occur if we were honest with ourselves. When we refuse to admit, even to ourselves, that our nature possesses certain primitive aspects, we prevent the ideas connected with these aspects from being affiliated to our personality and taking their place in our mental life; they therefore become foreign bodies in the mind, technically termed dissociated complexes, which function independently of the main ego complex.

Instead of taking this attitude, let us recognize the existence of these primitive impulses in ourselves; and when we find their manifestations obtruding themselves, let us gently but firmly put them in their place, and see to it that they do not obtain the upper hand.

Let us never forget the enormous power of autosuggestion, for the subconscious mind will tend to translate into action any image that is presented to it sufficiently vividly, especially if that image be charged with emotion. Let us therefore be very careful what mental pictures we permit ourselves to dwell upon persistently, whether with fear or desire, for they will mold our lives and even our circumstances to an extent we little realize.

Our whole aim should be to maintain the integrity of the personality, to prevent any splitting off of complexes of ideas, and to see that the instincts, welling up in the deeper levels of our nature, should find their channels clear and unobstructed, so that they may flow out into action on the higher levels of our life.

Chapter 24: Conclusion

It has been said that there is no scrap of knowledge concerning the remotest star which will not, sooner or later, be found to have its bearing upon the problems of human life, and we may well ask what the science of human nature itself has to contribute to the solution of our daily problems.

The practical application of psychology has certain well-defined spheres. Its bearing upon education has long been recognized, and much valuable work done in relation to the study of the child mind. The psychology of fatigue, in relation to industrial efficiency, has also found recognition as a branch of applied science not without its practical value. The field of social problems is still largely awaiting exploration, and there can be little doubt that the study of the psychology of the criminal and unemployable would yield results of the greatest social value. At the present moment, it is the field of abnormal psychology that holds the focus of attention. That inestimably valuable results are being obtained in this field of study no one can dispute, but its value is not confined to the relief of disease alone, but, as the research is progressing deeper, to the revelation of the conditions that give rise to disease. Just as the study of pathology gave us the science of hygiene, so the study of mental diseases is showing us the way to healthier thinking. It is teaching us that any abnormal attitude towards life will produce mental discomfort, if not actual disease, and it is showing us, just as physiological hygiene has shown us, that if the developing intelligence of man leads him to depart from primitive conditions wherein the instincts are sufficient guides, then he must also apply his reason to the new problems to which the new conditions give rise, and not leave the solution of these to instincts which are only fitted for the simplest form of functioning. The instinct of combativeness, or the instinct of flight, will not conduct the evolutions of a modern army, and neither will the primitive impulses enable man to live well and happily in conditions which elaborate mental processes have built up—as witness the terrible prevalence of unsolved sex problems beneath the fair show of our civilization. Two-thirds, if not more, of nerve trouble have their origin in the efforts of a primitive instinct to function under civilized conditions and its failure to make the adaptation. We need to take our instincts out of the region of the subconscious and apply our reason to them if we are to solve the problems that press upon us.

Throughout this book it will have been seen that stress has been laid upon the functioning and activity of those levels of the mind that are below the threshold of consciousness, and that it has been pointed out that the instincts, and not the reason, are the key to the human mind. But it has also been shown that the mind is in a state of evolution, and that reason, as its latest development, has an equal biological significance with the instincts of sex and self-preservation, and that we can no more afford to ignore the higher attributes of the human mind than we can afford to deny their true place to the primitive.

Briefly, the primitive man lies at the base of our being, but the divine man stands at its apex, and we, in our ascent, are in a transition stage, with subconscious and superconscious not yet correlated in the conscious mind. We do not see our past and future save in the dim pictures of dream and vision, by the uncertain gleam of intuition rather than the clear light of reason, and no solution of any human problem, either social or psychological, can be valid which does not look to the future as well as the past. Hitherto psychology has sought its standards of normality in the primitive and subhuman, forgetting that the flower of humanity is a natural product as well as its weeds; that religion, charity and idealism are as much a part of human nature as those primitive instincts which give rise to unnameable crimes. A psychology which looks to the past can show us causes, but it is only a psychology which looks to the future which can find us cures. Evolution did not cease its progress when it produced the cave man guarding his family, but evolved the “Save the Children Fund,” which before the echoes of the last shot had died away was sending succor to the helpless young of an enemy herd.

A psychology which bases its philosophy upon a return to the primitive, especially if that psychology undertakes the solution of human problems, individual or collective, is ignoring the data of evolution. We know that all life originated in the sea, and that the young of many species still pass the first phase of their life in the water. When, however, they have come ashore, and the gills have given place to lungs, they cease to be water creatures, and the structural traces of their origin are vestigial and not functional, and a frog can be drowned as easily as any other air-breathing creature, despite his tadpole past. So it is with the human psyche, unquestionably it has passed through a primitive phase in the course of its development, but if, in an effort to remedy some faulty development, it be thrust back to that phase after evolving to a higher one, it will perish as surely as the frog thrust under water. It should be the aim of psychotherapy, not to reduce the mind to its primitive elements and point of view, but rather to help humanity to make that transition from the lower to the higher which evolution is forcing upon us, whether we will or no. Adaptation to environment is the key to life, and the environment to which an individual must be aided to adjust himself, if such aid be sought, is not that environment which, generation by generation, is receding further into the past, but that future which hour by hour is becoming the present, and from which there is no escape.

It should be the aim of psychotherapy to work out the arc which evolution is describing, and to set the feet of racial wanderers upon its path. It is a futile and dangerous philosophy which proposes a return to the past as an escape from the present.

Geology, zoology, sociology, and comparative psychology, all show us the evolution of that which is simple into that which is complex, from the cave man, with his few needs and problems, to the complications of a modern industrial society. And we see in the little segment of the evolutionary arc with which we are most closely concerned that the chief factor is the herd instinct which is pressing us all the time towards a more complete socialization of humanity, and that any adaptation which an individual makes must be in relation to his integration as a social unit and not to his needs as a solitary individual.

Diagnostic and descriptive psychology must be distinguished from remedial psychology of which we have had all too little. Research on the abnormal mind alone will not give us the key to a healthy life, we must study social psychology as well as individual psychology, because man is a social animal, and his mental processes are determined by this fact; any adaptation he makes, and adaptation is the basis of psychotherapy, must be in relation to his social group as well as to his own subconscious wishes; it is not enough to bring these wishes into the light of consciousness, they must be synthesized with the rest of the personality, to the social organization of which that personality is a unit, and to the great evolutionary drift of which even the race itself is but a partial expression. Psychotherapy may begin with the primitive, but it must end with the divine, for both are integral factors in the human mind.

finis

Chapter 13: Sublimation

Should an instinct be denied its expression and all ideas connected with it be repressed into the subconscious, trouble will ensue. The lower reaches of a river can be emptied by the simple expedient of placing a dam across its channel, but this does not solve the problem of the surplus water, which gathers head behind the obstruction till it bursts its banks and makes a morass of the upper reaches. If it is necessary to deflect a river from its bed, then an alternative course must be provided, for the water continues to come down from the hills and must by some means be disposed of.It is precisely this engineering problem that the psychotherapist has to deal with. We know that a large percentage of mental and nervous disorders are caused by the repression of the sex instinct. This great instinct, in its mental and physical aspects, is so fundamental and so powerful that it cannot with safety to the individual be entirely repressed, nor with safety to society be given free rein, and we are on the horns of a dilemma, for social laws demand that it shall only be expressed under very limited conditions those of legal marriage, and even then not to an unlimited extent; and nature demands that it shall be expressed as soon as the physical organs of its manifestation are sufficiently developed to function.The average man solves this problem for himself by conniving at the maintenance of a pariah class of women whose very existence is socially ignored and is a fertile source of misery, disease, and crime; but for women, unless they are prepared permanently to join the pariah class, a social safety valve does not exist, and we find among them a much higher percentage than among men suffering from those nervous troubles that are due to a repression of the sex instinct, and this also applies to men who, whether from idealism or fear of disease, do not avail themselves of a compromise.This problem would prove as intractable in the future as it has in the past were it not that we now know that the law of transmutation of energy from one form to another is as true for psychology as it is for physics, and sex force can be utilized for other purposes than physical reproduction. This process of conversion is technically known as SUBLIMATION.This is one of the most important discoveries of modern psychology, for it provides the solution to grave social problems that menace the fabric of civilization.How, in actual practice, can this result be achieved?First, by altering our entire attitude toward sex, and realizing that a problem is not solved by ignoring its existence. Secondly, by taking the sex problem out of the domain of the subconscious into the conscious mind and frankly facing it, and acquiring dominion over it by the practice of thought control, transmuting our emotions instead of repressing them; and thirdly, by providing a channel of creative interest down which may flow the energies we wish to deflect from their primitive channel of manifestation.The key to the whole problem lies in this, the life force flows to the point of interest. If the interest and attention are centered upon physical sensation, then the life force will flow, or attempt to flow, through the channel of the reproductive organs, or if denied manifestation, will keep up a constant irritation and stimulation; but if the interest be shifted to an emotional or mental level, then the life force will find an outlet in creative activity upon these levels and drain the pressure from the physical.The mental and physical habits of a lifetime are not easily broken, but if the thoughts be patiently and persistently kept away from physical sensation and concentrated upon external interests, the law of mental and physical habit will come to our aid, and the life force will learn to flow through its new channel with safety to the individual and benefit to society.The process of thought control must not be confused with the dissociation of ideas. In dissociation we are dishonest with ourselves, denying that certain qualities exist in our natures; the ideas connected with them are repressed into our subconsciousness, and it is the involuntary subconscious censor that holds them down; whereas in thought control we admit the primitive side of our natures and set to work to train it, and because we know that dwelling upon mental pictures of a sexual nature produces a physical reaction, we exclude these ideas from consciousness; but in this case the repression is not into the subconscious mind, but into the foreconscious, and it is one of the voluntary censors that enforces the command and remains under our control.The distinction between repression and dissociation must be clearly borne in mind in all re-educational work. A certain amount of repression is unavoidable in a social life; for each individual sacrifices something of his personal desires for the sake of the benefits of co-operation with his fellows, and the energy thus sacrificed is turned to social purposes. Dissociation, however, is always a pathology, and should never be allowed to occur.

Chapter 14: Maladaptation to Environment and Psychopathology

The classification of diseases was carried out at a time when the body was regarded as the whole of man and the mind looked upon as an unimportant by-product whose influence was negligible. Modern discovery, however, has radically changed our outlook.Much mental disease has a physical origin and should not be classified as mental at all. To this class belong the mental disturbances arising from disease of or injury to the brain; womb trouble; poisoned blood conditions and the faulty functioning of the ductless glands, whose place in our economy is so important and so little understood; and many other causes of a like nature.Setting aside this type of disease, with which psychology, strictly speaking, is not concerned, we find the true mental diseases fall into a first broad division, those which are congenital and those which are acquired. In congenital disease an abnormal individual breaks down in a normal environment, and in acquired disease a normal individual breaks down in an abnormal environment. In both cases the results are the same, but treatment and prospect of recovery are very different.The boundary line between a healthy and diseased mind is not easy to draw, but we may reckon a mind diseased when it fails to react normally to its environment; thus, if happenings which should stir us deeply leave us unmoved, or we are upset by things which should have no power to disturb us, we may consider our mind is not working well. Let it never be forgotten, however, that mental disturbance ranges from irritability, depression, and bad memory, to its extreme manifestations in the different forms of insanity.The division between nervous and mental disease is even harder to draw, but for all practical purposes the sense of reality may be utilized as a dividing line; as soon as he loses his sense of reality a man passes the boundary line of insanity. The neurotic knows that there is something wrong with him, but that the world is all right; the lunatic believes that he is all right, but that there is something wrong with the world. It is the constant aim of the mind to maintain harmonious relations between the individual and the environment; to secure an adjustment to, and to make the best of, the constantly varying conditions to which the organism is subjected. If it fails to do this, the law of the survival of the fittest comes into action and automatically eliminates the unfit whose who have failed to adapt themselves to the conditions in which they live. Failure to adapt may be due to one of two causes: the individual may be abnormal,or the environment may be abnormal.Modern social conditions in a civilized community tend to prevent the automatic elimination of the unfit and to permit them to live on. With physical failure to adapt, due to malformation or lack of stamina, we will not deal here, but will confine ourselves to the problem of adjustment on the mental level.If there is difficulty in making a mental adjustment to environment and finding contentment and peace of mind, then the individual is faced by a peculiar problem, he is allowed to continue his physical life, but cannot find mental peace. In order to obtain relief from this intolerable condition, certain devices are unconsciously resorted to. These devices are of the nature of buffers or shock absorbers, and provided the individual does not deviate too much from the normal type, which is adapted to the environment, and that the environment likewise does not differ too much from the type for which the individual was designed, then these devices effectually protect his feelings from the rude shocks of circumstances and enable him to keep his poise and peace of mind. If, however, the strain thrown upon the psychic shock absorber is too great for it adequately to absorb, then the rebound of the buffer-springs throws the machinery of the mind out of gear and makes itself felt in nervous and mental disorders. Like physical disease, mental disease is Nature’s effort at repair which overreaches itself.This, then, is what constitutes mental disease (the organic insanities being excluded from this definition) the reaction of the mind to what it cannot assimilate. It must not be thought, however, that mental disorder necessarily means insanity. Any faulty functioning of the mind comes under the heading of psycho-pathology, and just as the diseases of the body range from a passing indisposition to some fatal organic disease, so the diseases of the mind range from irritability and forgetfulness to the complete collapse of lunacy.

Chapter 15: Conflict

As we have already seen, our life is motived by three great instincts. A moment’s thought, however, will cause us to realize that, as these instincts are diverse in their aims, they may sometimes find themselves in opposition to one another; this condition is known to psychologists as CONFLICT, wherein one instinct can only be gratified at the expense of another. For instance, a man may be starving, and be tempted to steal in order to satisfy his hunger. Here we see a conflict between the self-preservation and herd instinct, for if he steals, he may lose his place in the herd, and if he does not steal, he may lose his life, and it is astonishing how many will choose the latter alternative, proving the power and fundamental nature of the herd instinct. The man will be torn two ways, and can only gratify one instinct at the expense of the other. Or, again, he may fall in love with a woman who is denied to him by the marriage laws of his country. Here we see a conflict between the sex instinct and the herd instinct. Or he may fall in love with one whom it would be disadvantageous socially or professionally for him to marry, and here we see a conflict between the sex and self-preservation instincts.Now, in each of these cases a large amount of force is locked up and rendered unavailable for the general purposes of the life, for a head-on collision between instincts is involved, and each employs the whole of its energy to neutralise the force of the other, and the whole life comes to a standstill while the battle is fought out. It is notorious that an individual in such a dilemma can come to no decision, take no decisive action, in any department of his life. Some solution has to be arrived at, and any solution is better than a continuation of the conflict, the pain of which is intolerable.First, the man may think the whole matter out, and, acting according to his nature, give the victory to one or other of the combatants, leaving the vanquished instinct to seek adjustment as best it may. It requires great strength, however, to take such a stand, and many are not able to do it. Some seek a solution of the problem by keeping the instincts in separate compartments of the mind, and never comparing their special pleadings, as did a science teacher known to the writer, who on weekdays taught the doctrines of evolution, and on Sundays the doctrine of special creation, and when questioned on the matter, burst into a towering passion and refused to discuss it.A third solution, however, is very often found by the perplexed mind, and that is known as dissociation.Now, REPRESSION and DISSOCIATION are two terms current in modern psychological parlance, and the writer has often heard them used as if they were interchangeable terms, but this is not the case. Repression means that certain ideas are put into the subconscious mind and not permitted to return to consciousness, but dissociation means that some of these ideas, instead of lying quiet in the subconscious, split off from the integration of the personality and function independently. These two factors of mentation will be studied in detail in the following chapters.

Chapter 16: Repression

Repression is a refusal to permit an idea to enter consciousness. The instant it looms up upon the fringe of consciousness the attention is resolutely turned away from it. This device is resorted to when an idea enters the mind which is repugnant to our character, when we find ourselves thinking thoughts which are out of harmony with the general tone of our nature. Unwilling to admit to ourselves that we have such a side to our dispositions, we turn away from the repulsive images; but as it is impossible to erase from the mind any idea which has once entered it, we endeavor to store these ideas, since they must be stored somewhere, in that part which is furthest away from consciousness, and so, to use the technicalities of the psychologist, we repress them into our subconscious.When it is remembered that every child is born into the world a little savage, and that it is only by education he achieves civilization, it will readily be seen that our primitive nature is not a thing which our cultivated self can regard with any complacency. That the untrained child is selfish and dirty, we are all aware; and that we ourselves, before our training had time to take effect on us, were also selfish and dirty, we cannot with logic deny; but a merciful veil of forgetfulness has been drawn across this period, for we have developed into something so different from what we were that our primitive self is utterly repugnant to us, and repression is resorted to to prevent this unpleasant ghost of our original natures from intruding upon our self-esteem.All ideas of an uncivilized type which enter the mind are apt to call forth a certain amount of response from us—hence the success of the smutty story—for the primitive side of our natures is not dead, and stirs in its sleep if a note of the same pitch is sounded in its hearing; therefore ideas which wake our lower nature are quickly repressed into the subconscious lest they should be translated into action. Repression is essentially the mechanism of self-disgust.It is still an open question whether repression is normal or abnormal; whether it is part of the functioning of the healthy mind, or whether it is to be regarded as a psychic corn or callosity, an endeavor on the part of nature to reinforce a point of pressure, which, though intended as a defense, is apt to become a disease.The part played by consciousness in repression is equally an open question. In my opinion, an idea must be present to consciousness before its nature can be apprehended and the judgment formed which leads to its banishment.There is no question but that, if we were strong enough, we could deal with these problems in the conscious mind by means of thought control, and that repression is only resorted to when the first line of defence has gone down before the onslaught of the lower side of our natures.Repression may therefore be looked upon as a reaction due to weakness; the mind that was perfectly adapted to its environment would assimilate all experiences and grow stronger in the process.

Chapter 17: Dissociation

While the device of repression may adequately deal with many of the unwelcome thoughts that intrude themselves upon us, it is not capable of doing so in every case, and then the process is carried a stage further, and DISSOCIATION takes place.Dissociation is pathological forgetting. Emotion is the life of an idea. In ordinary forgetting a memory sinks into the subconscious because insufficient interest is attached to it to enable it to remain in consciousness; if, however, an idea associated with some strong emotion is repressed into the subconscious, that emotion will, as it were, vivify it, and cause it to have an independent life of its own; it splits off from the personality and is said to be dissociated.It will be noted that in our study of memory we saw that ideas never remain solitary, but tend to form associations among themselves, or, as they are technically termed, complexes. The dissociated idea is no exception to this rule; not only does it form alliances with its fellow prisoners, but its chains of associations manage to evade the censor and ramify through the other levels of the mind with far-reaching consequences, giving rise to much of the illogicality and unreasonableness which disturb our attempts at rational thinking. We have already noted that a complex is a group of ideas held together by some emotionally toned interest; and as all emotion has its root in an instinct, it follows that all complexes must be affiliated to one or other of the instincts; as they sink into the subconscious they therefore go down the channel of the instinct to which they belong, and as they are swimming against the current they tend to block the flow of that particular instinct and to causeit to express itself through the subsidiary channel which they are endeavoring to open up.It can readily be seen that serious consequences must arise from an obstacle lodged in the fairway of so great a force and drawing to itself, under the law of association of ideas, all thoughts that may enter the mind on the same subject, or that have a real or symbolic resemblance to it. As has been truly said, the subconscious grows at the expense of the conscious, and the balance of the mind is upset; the thrust of life, the source of all energy, instead of flowing freely from level to level, is blocked by the complex and held up in the subconscious, causing the pressure on that level to rise to danger-point, while the conscious mind is sapped of its vitality, producing an individual of imperative and chaotic needs, which he is unable to formulate, even to himself, and with no power to give them expression or obtain their satisfaction.

We have already considered the mind as a tank divided into compartments by sieves of varying diameters of mesh, let us now consider the currents that move in the water that fills the tank. We may diagrammatically conceive the inflow as taking place through one main channel into the subconscious, and there dividing into three streams. This main channel of energy, which supplies the motive power of all living creatures, has been called by many names: libido, horme, élan vitale, and bio-urge; an adequate English equivalent is the thrust of life.

This stream of psychic energy becomes specialised in the individual into divergent currents, which we call the three great instincts. The first of these is the SELF-PRESERVATION INSTINCT. Under this heading may be gathered up all the activities which are motived by (1) the Will to Live, or Self-Maintenance, and, (2) the Will to Live more Fully, or Self- Aggrandisement.

The second great instinct is that of REPRODUCTION, or SEX, whose function it is to secure race preservation. Through this channel tends to go the surplus of energy left over after the demands of self-maintenance have been fulfilled.

The third great instinct is the SOCIAL or HERD INSTINCT, by which term we designate that system of innate tendencies and capacities which enables us to co-operate with our fellows and lead a social life, with all its advantages and disadvantages.

Some animals, however, do not have this third instinct, but lead solitary lives, acknowledging no ties save those of mate and offspring; but the more highly evolved types, including man, have developed this great specialisation of psychic energy which enables them to lead a social life. These three great instincts act and react on each other in the hidden field of subconscious, and build up social organisation and individual character.

In order to understand the workings of the instincts, however, it must be clearly realised that they are universal and not personal in their scope; the survival or suffering of the unit are not considered in the scheme of things, it is the race that counts.

If we regard the instincts as subserving the welfare of the individual only, we form a concept which cannot fail to lead us astray when we seek to put our conclusions to a practical application. The workings of instinct must be viewed from the standpoint of evolutionary progress, not individual well-being. This is the point of view from which Nature frames her schemes, and we can only hope to understand her ways if we occupy her standpoint.

To regard man as actuated by reason is a hopeless error. Instinct forms the mainspring of his action, and reason is used to carry out the promptings of instinct. It must be remembered, however, that instinct does not function in crude physical forms only. Man possesses emotions and intellect as well as a body, and upon each plane of his being the instincts express themselves appropriately, functioning emotionally and intellectually as well as physically. A man uses his wits as well as his muscles in the struggle for self-preservation, and the sex instinct is not exhausted by the physical act of procreation. Emphasis is laid upon this point, because herein lies the key to the practical application of psychology to human life.

The emotions have their sources in the instincts; indeed, an emotion may be said to be the subjective aspect of an instinct. If an instinct is achieving its aim, we feel pleasure; if it is being frustrated, we feel pain; and if we anticipate its frustration, we feel fear. Whenever there is emotion, some underlying instinct must have been stirred into activity. It will thus be seen how predominating is the influence exerted by the instincts upon our lives; they may, in fact, be considered the mainsprings of motive.

At one time psychology busied itself with the reasoning processes, and looked upon man as a rational being, and indeed the man in the street still considers himself as such, but the researches of modern psychology have shown us that emotion and not reason is the actuating force, and that reason is a tool in the service of the emotions.

Chapter 8: The Self-Preservation Instinct

The self-preservation instinct appears to our consciousness under the guise of that deep-rooted clinging to life, that desire to live, which characterises every living thing. It is this instinct, functioning simply in simply organised creatures, that leads them to seek food and avoid danger, and also causes that complex organism, a civilised man, to carry out the elaborate activities of “earning a living.”

It is essentially a selfish instinct, for it leads the individual to regard his own welfare alone, and to consider others only so far as their existence is essential to his. For instance, shooting and hunting during the breeding season are forbidden by law, not out of consideration for the hunted creatures, but because the continuation of their species is useful to us.

Its influence, however, is often modified by the two other great instincts whose influence may become so strong under certain circumstances as to induce a man not only to disregard his own interests, but even to lay down his life for others.

In many varieties of animals, however, only two instincts are present, self-preservation and reproduction; but in animals that are associated together into herds or packs, a third instinct is developed, the social instinct. When this occurs, the functioning of the self-preservation instinct is greatly modified; the individual no longer owes his existence solely to his power to cope with his environment, but depends mainly upon his ability to keep his place in the herd; and upon the social organisation devolves the task of adaptation and survival. The strayed sheep is soon hunted down, the solitary wolf starves.

This is equally true of man, who is also a social animal. The misery of Central Europe, in the breakdown of social organisation following upon the war, has shown us the helplessness of the individual human being and his complete dependence upon herd life.

The self-preservation instinct and its ruthless functioning under the law of natural selection has furnished a theme to many moralists and sociologists of the materialistic type, but they are apt to forget that the socialisation of humanity has changed the nature of the problem; the unit of survival is no longer the individual, but the social organisation of which he is a member. The law of self-preservation has given place to the law of group preservation, and the centre of psychic gravity is shifted. The importance of this point cannot be over-estimated in practical psychology.

By some psychologists the instinct of nutrition is distinguished from that of self-preservation, but for all practical purposes they are identical. It must be borne in mind, in applying the standards of psychology to the human character, that in the more highly developed types of human being the self-preservation instinct is not fulfilled simply by the continuance of physical life; there is self-preservation of the personality as well as of the bodily existence, and unless a man has adequate scope for self-expression and self-development, he will experience that sense of incompleteness and imperfection characteristic of the repression of an instinct.

Chapter 9: Diseases of the Self-Preservation Instinct

The self-preservation instinct, having its source in the sense of individuality, of separateness, is the motive of our self-assertion. It is necessary that each member of a herd should have a certain amount of self-assertiveness in order to maintain his place among his fellows. If, however, this quality is above or below the requisite standard, his survival will be endangered; if, on the one hand, he is lacking in selfassertion, he will not obtain his fair share of the means of life available for the group of which he is a member. On the other hand, if his selfassertion is excessive, it may disrupt the social organisation, and either lead to the extinction of the group, or to his ejection from it. Lack of self-preservation instinct is usually due to deep-seated psychopathologies, too complex to be entered upon here; but we may say in passing that this failure is often due to a division of aims in the subconscious mind, the individual is not sure which self he ought to preserve, and so preserves neither.

An excess of self-preservation is often developed in the child who has had a hard struggle to find and express his individuality. The self-preservation instinct has a great influence upon vitality. All observant persons must have noticed how easily the man who has lost his hold upon life, or has given up hope, succumbs to disease.

Chapter 10: The Reproductive Instinct

The reproductive instinct is Nature’s mechanism for ensuring the continuation of the species, and its subjective aspect appears to us as all the emotions and sensations connected with sex.

As soon as the demands of the self-preservation instinct are satisfied, as soon as the individual is secure, adequately fed and sufficiently developed, then life tends to overflow the vessel it has filled, and this psychic pressure constitutes sex desire.

Sex, however, must not be considered under its physical manifestations only, it has an emotional and mental aspect as well. It is more than the mere overflow of energy in the act of procreation, it is also the desire for the rejuvenation and vital stimulus that is produced by the act of union. Whosoever in considering human problems fails to look beyond the physical stratum of the sex instinct, cannot fail to obtain a false perspective.

It has been laid down as a maxim that psychology and physiology ought to be kept strictly separate, but it is impossible to treat adequately of the sex instinct without considering it under both its aspects, for sex activity works in a psycho-physical circle; organic sensations stimulate the emotions, and the emotions react on the organs. A sexual image rising in the mind brings about the preliminary reaction of the physical organs of its expression; and any irritation of the physical organs, however accidental, tends to produce a corresponding emotional state. Stimulus may occur at any point on the psycho-physical circuit, and so may inhibition.

The sex instinct forms the nucleus of a huge complex, second only to the group of ideas that centres round the individuality itself. To all ideas and activities that are in any way connected with the gratification of the sexual desire, its energy readily passes over. Dress, the home, the ambitions, each and all may owe their interest to the reproductive instinct which uses them as channels for its fulfilment.

Chapter 11: Development of the Reproductive Instinct

The sex instinct, in the course of development from its infantile aspect to its adult manifestation, goes through well-marked phases which are little known outside the ranks of the psychotherapists, but which are of great importance to the educationalist and sociologist.

The sexuality of the child is simply a capacity for deriving gratification from certain feelings, and it is a diffused and vague sensation that he experiences; this capacity, however, as the child grows older, becomes gradually concentrated upon its physiological channels of activity, and as it becomes concentrated it increases in intensity, just as the placid waters of a broad and shallow river become deep and headlong in a ravine.

The interests of a very young child only gradually extend beyond his own bodily sensations, and he therefore leads an existence that is selfcentred beyond any adult conception of the term. The organs of reproduction, being very highly nerved in preparation for their future functions, are found to be capable of keener sensation than the rest of the body, and therefore attract his attention. This is the AUTO-EROTIC STAGE.

The, to a child, striking manifestations connected with the exercise of the bodily functions also attract his interest. This is the COPROPHILIC STAGE.

Later, his curiosity concerning his own body being satisfied, he begins to be curious concerning the bodies of others. This is called the HOMOSEXUAL STAGE, the stage wherein he is interested in bodies of the same sex as his own, but it might more truly be called the stage of undifferentiated interest, for the child is only interested in those who are made in the same way as himself, because he is not aware that anyone is made differently.

This curiosity being outgrown, his interest is transferred to those who are different from himself, regardless as to whether they are closely related to him or not. Soon, however, he begins to differentiate between his immediate relations and those who are less closely connected. This is called by psychologists “the raising of the incest barriers,” but to the child it appears simply as a moving on of the focus of interest; he is no longer attracted by his mother and sisters, not because he feels it is wrong to have such feelings towards them, but because familiarity breeds contempt, and gives rise to the state of mind that is expressed in the phrase “insipid as sisters’ kisses.”

The child has now attained the adult attitude towards sex, and it only remains for the physical organs to make their corresponding development at the time of puberty for the circuit to be complete.

Chapter 12: Diseases of the Reproductive Instinct

I. Should an individual be lacking in vigour, he may fail to reach his full psychic development, and stick fast at one of the earlier phases. The adult sex force therefore manifests itself in an immature form, and the individual is a pervert of a congenital type. Strange as it may seem, his peculiarity will appear to him as normal and natural, and will not interfere with the development of a high type of character and perfect health, though his path through life is rendered a difficult one owing to the insuperable obstacles to the satisfaction of his love nature.

Two courses are open to him. He may become an actual pervert, in which case he incurs the censure of society, because he is unfaithful to his trust in not using the overflow of his life force for the upbuilding of the herd, but expends it through channels that cannot lead to reproduction and thus wastes it; also because any sexual abnormality is exceedingly infectious, owing to the force of suggestion, whether by example or precept, and would lead other and normal individuals to similar antisocial action. It is this strong race-preservation instinct that gives rise to the disgust and anger of the normal individual at all forms of abnormality.

The unfortunate, however, may instead become a potential pervert, and repress into his subconscious mind desires which he feels to be wrong; he tries to lead a normal life, but the adult form of sex does not satisfy him, and in his heart he really desires the abnormal form which he should have outgrown and left behind. This wish, not being allowed by the censor to enter consciousness, has recourse to symbolic expression, and gives rise to many forms of insanity and neuroticism.

II. An individual may be developing quite normally, when some shock, often quite slight, or some undue pressure of environment, may artificially arrest his development, and he will go through much the same phases as the potential pervert, but being of better mental material to begin with, he will usually incline towards neurotic disease rather than insanity.

Those who have the care of children should be careful not to give the child a shock by administering a severe reprimand when his curiosities and activities take an undesirable form; such action gives the matter undue prominence in the child’s mind, and may lead to a stoppage of development at the phase represented by the undesirable activity. Explanation and counsel will be more effective than a scolding, and leave no undesirable after effects.

III. An individual may reach normal adulthood quite safely, but, his energies finding no outlet on that level owing to force of circumstances, they may revert to one of the primitive phases through which he has passed, and he may acquire a perversion of sexual habit with the same liabilities to disease that we have noted above.

IV. Excessive sexual activity may lead to jaded powers of response to normal sexual stimuli, and the individual may then deliberately turn to abnormal forms of gratification in the hope of obtaining satisfaction.

Those untrained in psychology generally conceive of the mind as a homogeneous whole; our first systematic examination reveals to us, however, that the mind is just as organic as the body.

The organisation of the mind may best be realised by thinking of it as a tank across which, at different heights, are placed sieves of varying coarseness of mesh. We must conceive of the mind as being composed of certain layers, and the layer in which our conscious life has its most permanent focus we will consider to be the outermost layer and name THE FOCUS OF CONSCIOUSNESS. Immediately behind the Focus of Consciousness lies the level which psychologists call THE FRINGE OF CONSCIOUSNESS, and the two are divided from one another by a sievelike mechanism which is technically called a CENSOR.

The understanding of these two levels of the mind may be rendered clearer if we next consider the uses to which they are put. Supposing a person is sitting in a room listening to a lecture, of what will he be aware? Firstly, his attention will be concentrated upon the lecture, and, secondly, he will be dimly conscious of the sounds made by the traffic in the street outside. By an effort of will he will pay attention to those ideas only which are connected with the lecture, and exclude from consciousness those which are connected with the street traffic; or, to express the process in psychological terms, we may say that all the ideas connected with the lecture are admitted to the focus of consciousness, and all ideas connected with the street noises are kept in the fringe of consciousness, and that the censor-sieve is so adjusted that ideas in the fringe may not intrude upon the focus. Its meshes may be conceived as being of such a size that only the compact little ideas appertaining to the lecture can pass through them, and the undefined ideas connected with the street traffic are held back.

It will readily be seen that our powers of concentration depend upon the satisfactory functioning of this psychic sieve. The more we can bring the adjustment of its meshes under voluntary control, the better will be our powers of concentration; whereas, if its mesh be loose or faulty, and we have acquired little or no control over it, we shall find that we are unable to hold our mind to any consecutive train of thought, and that our focus of consciousness is constantly liable to be invaded by ideas alien to the matter to which we wish to pay attention.

These two levels, the FOCUS and FRINGE OF CONSCIOUSNESS, together comprise what is known as THE CONSCIOUS MIND. This is the part of the mind which most truly seems to be “our-self.” It is the section of the mind in which we carry on all our conscious mental activities, but it is by no means the whole of the mental house.

Immediately behind the fringe of consciousness comes the level of the mind which is known as the FORECONSCIOUS, PRECONSCIOUS, and many other things according to the school of psychology whose doctrines are adhered to. If, however, its function be understood, it will be readily enough recognised through the disguise of the varied nomenclature which, unfortunately, complicates the study of psychology. In this level of the mind are stored all the ideas which we hold in memory, but are not actually thinking about. It may, in fact, be defined as the level of conscious memory, and just as the focus is separated from the fringe of consciousness by an adjustable censor-sieve, so an exactly similar sieve interposes between the fringe of consciousness and the foreconscious, and works upon exactly the same principles.

Thus, the student listening to the lecture could adjust this second sieve so as to allow everything he had ever learned that had any bearing upon the subject in hand, to rise into the focus of consciousness and help him to understand the lecture. It is this faculty which is of such great importance in determining the critical powers of the mind, for the previously determined ideas, ranging themselves alongside the fresh concepts offered for assimilation, serve as standards of value, and form a running commentary upon the lecture.

These three levels together, the focus, the fringe, and the foreconscious, form the level of the mind to which we have access and of which we can make use; but we must note this point in connection with these levels, that any idea which we may wish to consider must be placed in the strong light of the focus of consciousness before we can see it clearly; we cannot consider an idea while it is still in the foreconscious, but we can, at will, take it out of the foreconscious and place it in the focus of consciousness for our consideration.

Indeed, these three levels of the mind may be likened to a kitchen, the foreconscious being the cupboard, the fringe of consciousness the table, and the focus of consciousness the mixing basin; and the ideas upon the three levels may be represented by the ingredients of the pudding, some of which are put away in the cupboard, some lie ready to the hand upon the table, and others are actually in the mixing basin being stirred. Those on the table, like the ideas in the fringe of consciousness, lie ready to the cook’s hand, but she is not dealing with them at the moment; those in the cupboard (the foreconscious) are out of sight, but she knows they are there and can get them if she wants them; but it is only those that are in the basin, the focus of consciousness, that she is actually at work upon.

To the average man these three levels constitute all there is of his mind, he has no conception of the strange hinterland lying behind the narrow strip of civilised coast, yet it is here that the springs of his being take their rise, and it is the discovery and exploration of this hinterland which has been the great contribution of modern psychology to the sum of human knowledge.

Chapter 5: The Organization of the Lower Levels of the Mind

In the level of the mind known as the subconscious or unconscious are stored all the ideas to which we have no direct access.

Some psychologists say that the memory of every impression which has ever been received by a sense organ is registered here as on a photographic plate, but this opinion is not universally accepted. We shall be quite safe in saying, however, that the memory of anything which has ever made a distinct impression on the mind is stored here and plays its part in the mental life.

Between the subconscious and the foreconscious is placed the great main censor-sieve of the mind, and it is this which is meant when the “censor” is referred to in psychoanalytical literature. This censor-sieve is of the greatest importance in the mental economy, for upon its function the health of the mind is largely dependent. If its meshes are too loose, we get an uprush into consciousness of ideas which should never be there; and if too tight, the conscious mind is cut off from the source of its energy, the subconscious.

This sieve is constructed upon the same principles as the two others which we have already considered, but it has one fundamental difference, it is not under the control of the will; the dimension of its mesh is regulated, not by what I, at the moment, may happen to wish, but by what the main tenor of my character may determine.

The foreconscious, then, may be likened to a reference library, but the great storehouse of the subconscious is a vault in which the archives are kept; and although the bulk of them never touch the conscious mind, it is their indirect influence which determines the tone of the character. The remotest level of the mind, whose functioning is purely automatic, has the control of all the vital functions of the body. Its thought processes direct the activities of the spinal level of the nervous system, whereas the other levels of the mind have the brain as their physical organ of manifestation, as is proved by the fact that a disease of the brain can throw the reasoning faculties out of gear and leave the purely physiological nervous functions intact, whereas a disease of the spinal cord may render inoperative the nervous processes of the bodily functions, though the mental processes are unimpaired.

The psychic processes of the automatic mind govern all the biochemical processes of the body; it is this level which controls the involuntary muscles, regulates the blood supply to any part of the body, controls the output of the ductless glands, and hence the chemical composition of the blood. It is these facts which may throw light upon the origin of many functional disturbances and upon the phenomena of mental healing. Although the automatic level is not normally in touch with the conscious mind, it is enormously affected by the general feeling-tone of the mentality, and especially by the emotional states of the subconscious, hence the alterations of physiological function which take place in nervous disease.

This level of the mind was the first to be organised in the history of biological development. The dim mentation of the rudimentary beginnings of life was of the automatic order, being entirely concerned with physiological processes.

As organisms became more evolved, a higher type of intelligence was necessary for the carrying out of their life activities, and we get mentation of the type that is carried on in the subconscious level, the impulsive mentation of the instincts.

Level by level the mind builds itself up, in the race and in the individual; and level by level, under the influence of old age, disease or drugs, the planes of consciousness break down in the inverse order to that in which they developed, the more recently organised higher centres going first, and the automatic mind, the oldest and most stable, with æons of habit behind it, working on to the last, keeping the bodily mechanism running long after all that made the organism a man has withdrawn from its dishonoured vehicle.

Chapter 6: Complexes

Having studied the levels into which the mind is divided, we must next consider the nature of the material that is stored in them, and to do this we must study the workings of MEMORY.

When an idea enters the mind it does not remain an independent unit for very long. It seems to be a fundamental characteristic of ideas that they form alliances among themselves, and these groups of ideas are technically known as COMPLEXES.

A complex may be compared to the branching growth of a pond-weed; it has a central starting-point from which ramify threads that divide and subdivide, and branch in every direction, and connect it with other systems of ideas that have similar branching threads. Thus it is that if an idea on any subject enters our consciousness, we find that it is not an isolated unit, but one end of a chain which branches into all sorts of side issues; we have not touched a single line of thought, but a whole railway system.

These systems of ideas spread and ramify through all the levels of the mind, but if we trace them far enough, we shall invariably find that they have their roots in one of the great primal instincts, deep down in the subconscious. It is from this that they derive the vitality that binds them together, for all complexes have a core of emotion, and it is from the instincts that the emotions spring.

Let us take an example from actual life, and see how these principles work. A man may, for example, be a grocer; he will therefore have a Grocery Complex, that is to say, all his ideas connected with the buying and selling of household commodities will be linked together, so that if a train of thought be started in connection with any one aspect of his business, by an easy transition many other aspects may drift into his mind.

Now, grocery is not in itself an absorbing subject, like literature or science, yet the man is interested in it; and why? because his grocery complex has its root in his self-preservation instinct, for it is the means by which he keeps himself alive. If his grocery business prospers, he feels pleasure, because it means a fuller and pleasanter life for him; if it diminishes, he feels pain and fear, because his means of keeping himself alive are threatened.

In addition to being a grocer, however, he may be an elder of the local chapel, and have a far-reaching complex of religious interests, ramifying, interlacing, and having their instinctive roots in his subconscious, just as his grocery complex has. Then, one day, he may be looking up the current price of pepper in his trade list, and from pepper his thoughts pass to spices in general; their pungent odour suggests incense, and he asks himself whether ritualism is ever allowable. It will here be seen that a trailing branch of his grocery complex has made contact with his religious complex and brought it into consciousness.

Again, our grocer may be thinking of getting married, and immediately his grocery complex throws out a side shoot which strikes root in his reproductive instinct, and his interest in grocery is reinforced by much of the interest which gathers round sex in his life, for it is upon the prosperity of his business that his prospect of marriage depends. Thus it will be seen that the mind is filled with a ramifying mass of complexes which throw out branches in every direction, and that if the end of any thread be caught hold of, by gently pulling upon it we can draw all the complexes with which it is connected into consciousness.

This is how memory works, and even if an idea has been “forgotten,” that is, passed from the conscious into the subconscious, it is still possible to recover it by taking advantage of this tendency of ideas to stick together; for by gently pulling upon the parts of the complex to which it is affiliated which are in consciousness, the branchings which are in the subconscious can be coaxed into light. It is upon this factor that psychoanalysis bases much of its work.

Ideas tend to group themselves in complexes according to certain welldefined principles.

• • I. All ideas connected with the same subject tend to become associated together.
• • II. Ideas which enter the mind at the same time tend to become associated together. For instance, if I have a nasty fall on a piece of banana skin while going to the pillar-box, when I see bananas I shall think of falls and pillar-boxes, and when I see pillar-boxes, I may think of bananas and falls.
• • III. Ideas of cause and effect become associated together.
• • IV. Ideas which have any sort of resemblance, fundamental or superficial, tend to recall one another. Thus, if I think of sausages, I may be put in mind of Zeppelins, and if I think of the fall on the banana skin, my mind may leap to the Niagara Falls or fallen women.

This irrational method of thought is of enormous importance in applied psychology, for much of the thinking carried on by the subconscious mind is done in this way, and it gives rise to that peculiar method of thought which will be dealt with in the chapter on symbolism.

Introduction

Originally given as a popular lecture course, this little book does not pretend to be a contribution to the formidable array of psychological literature. It is intended for those who have neither the time nor the training necessary to assimilate the standard works on the subject, but who want to know its elements; and to understand the principles on which our characters are formed and the means by which the process of thought is carried on, not so much from the scholastic point of view, as in relation to the problems of everyday life. It is hoped that many will find herein the key to things that have puzzled them in their own natures, for only those who hold such unsolved problems in their hearts can know how crippling and tormenting they are.This book does not aim so much at an orderly setting forth of the elements of psychology as at planting certain fundamental concepts in untrained minds so that they may serve as a basis for future studies. To this end the writer has adopted a pictorial, almost diagrammatic method of presentation in order that a framework of general ideas may be formed into which details may subsequently be fitted, having found this to be the best way to convey novel concepts to minds untrained in metaphysical subtleties.The teachings of no special school of psychology are adhered to; the writer is indebted to all, but loyal to none, holding that in the absence of any accepted standard of authority in psychological science each student must review the doctrines offered for his adherence in the light of his own experience.This book is essentially practical in aim, written in response to a practical need. In her experience of remedial psychology, the writer saw that many cases of mental and nervous trouble would never have developed if their victims had had an elementary knowledge of the workings of the mind; she also found that many patients required nothing but an explanation of these principles to put them on the road to recovery, and that even when more than this was needed to effect a cure, such a knowledge greatly expedited the treatment by enabling the patient to co-operate intelligently.So far as she is aware, there is no book that deals with psychopathology, not from the point of view of the student, but from that of the patient who needs an elementary knowledge of the laws of the mind in order to enable him to think hygienically. This book is written to fulfill that need; it is not only applicable, however, to those who are sick in mind or estate, but to those also who desire to develop their latent capacities by means of the practical application of the laws of thought and character.

Chapter 1: The Physical Vehicle of Consciousness

In order to arrive at an adequate understanding of mental processes it is necessary to have some idea of the machinery whereby the mind makes contact with the body.Throughout every inch of our organism is a network of specialized fibers whose function it is to carry nervous impulses from the sense organs to the central nervous system of brain and spinal cord, and from thence out again to the muscles, glands, and other organs of reaction. The sense organs act as receivers of sensation, the nerve fibers as transmitters, the central nervous system as a general telephone exchange, and the muscles, glands, and organs as the executants of the impulses of the mind.Sense organs consist of cells, or sets of cells, specialized for the reception of particular kinds of impressions. That is to say, if the particular kind of stimulus they are fitted to receive is administered to them, a change, probably of a chemical type, takes place in their substance, which, it is thought, gives rise to energy of an electrical nature, which runs along the nerve fiber as along a wire. At the present moment, however, our knowledge of the nature of the nervous impulse is tentative and hypothetical.Like all other living tissue, the nervous system is built up of millions of specialized cells. These cells consist of a main cell body with prolongations, usually two in number. One of these has a mass of branching fibers like the root of a plant, and is called the DENDR0N; the other consists of a long thread, the end of which is frayed out into strands as the end of a piece of worsted may be unraveled. This process is called the AXON.The thread-like branches of the axon of one cell interlace with these of the dendron of another cell, and a nervous impulse, running down the nerve fibers, jumps the gap in the same way as the electric current jumps the space between the terminals of an arc lamp.It will readily be seen that these interlacing fibrils, millions in number, ramifying throughout every portion of the body, form a most wonderful system of communication; the brain and spinal cord acting as a central telephone exchange.Muscles are composed of long, spindle-shaped cells which are capable of contraction. Chemical changes are constantly going on in their substance. The blood and lymph which bathe them bring food materials and carry away the waste products of their activity.These food substances, which are highly organized chemical compounds, are stored in the body of the cell. When a nervous impulse is received, these food globules, as it were, explode; that is to say, they break down into their component chemical parts, and the energy which went to build them up is set free in the process and performs the work for which the muscle is designed.The glands are the chemists of the body, and in the crucibles of their minute cells carry out the wonderful processes of living chemistry upon which our vital functions are based. The quantity and quality of their output is controlled by the nervous system, which acts as regulator of every process of the body.

Chapter 2: The Evolution of the Nervous System

The easiest way to grasp the organization of our complex nervous structure is to study its evolution from its humble beginnings in the simplest forms of life.In single-celled animalculæ, the most primitive type of living creatures, a single cell performs all the functions of life; it moves, breathes, assimilates, excretes, and feels. With the development of multicellular organisms, however, different cells are given different work to do, and made to do that, and nothing else.It then becomes necessary that co-ordination should be maintained between the sense organs that perceive the prey and the muscles that move to its capture, and for this purpose other cells are told off to specialize in communication.Thus it will be seen that the functional unit of the nervous system is not the nerve cell, but what is called the SENSORI-MOTOR ARC, consisting of a nerve carrying the incoming sensation from a sense organ and making contact with another nerve which carries the outgoing impulse to a muscle or organ.When a multiplicity of muscles becomes available for movement, it is necessary to further link up the sensori-motor arcs, so that other parts of the structure may be brought into play, and the response not be confined to one muscle alone; so nerve cells form loops upon the arcs, and loops upon the loops, with further intercommunications among themselves, the organization becoming more and more elaborate, admitting of more and more complex reactions to stimulus, till finally the wonderful complications of the human brain are achieved.

Chapter 3: How an Idea Enters the Mind

When an impression is made on a sense organ, the sensation derived from it is telegraphed up the connecting nerve fiber to the brain, and there translated, by a process of which we know nothing, from a sensation to a thought.We believe that the mind learns by experience to associate certain kinds of sensation with certain objects or conditions in the environment, and when it feels these particular sensations, deduces that certain objects are present, and forms mental images, or thought models, intended to represent these objects.The truth of our percepts is determined by the closeness with which our thought model corresponds to its original. An exact copy is a true concept, an imperfect copy an inaccurate concept.We “recognize” an object by a process of classification, noting its likeness or unlikeness to other objects already known. When an unfamiliar object attracts our attention, we put it through a process of comparison until we find to which compartment in our concept-pictures it should be assigned, and if we cannot find a perfect match, we put it in the most suitable compartment we can discover, and then partition off a little subclass for it, thus admitting its identity in essentials, but its difference in details from the other occupants of that compartment. For example, supposing we were to land on an island and an object on the shore attracted our attention, we should try to see what class of things of which we already had experience it most closely resembled. We should observe its movements, and assign it to the class of living creatures; see its four limbs and hair, and conclude it was an animal. Note its upright attitude, clothes, and weapons, and recognize these as characteristic of humanity; but perceiving that its skin differed in color from that of any human being we had ever seen before, we should partition off a fresh subdivision in the department of our mind in which our ideas connected with humanity were stored, place it there, and probably give it a distinguishing name by means of which we could indicate it to other human beings.Supposing, however, we presently come across another object of the same nature, we should not have to make a fresh subdivision for it, but would classify it with the previously examined specimen, and thus we should feel this time that we “knew what it was.” In fact, the process of “knowing” is a process of classification, and we feel that we “know ” a thing when we have assigned it to a satisfactory pigeon-hole among our concepts.