virgin, Crowley hatched a plan with one of his lovers, an artist’s model named Euphemia Lamb. Crowley told Neuburg that Euphemia was in love with him and before he knew it, they were engaged. Crowley then took Neuburg to a brothel, after which Crowley berated Neuburg for his infidelity and urged him to confess all to his betrothed, who was appropriately shocked and refused to see him. When Crowley eventually told Neuburg it was all a joke, he refused to believe it, and only accepted it when he found Euphemia naked on Crowley’s bed, enjoying a cigarette after sex. Crowley claims it was all for Neuburg’s benefit, but Crowley’s idea of what was good for someone invariably meant putting them in sexual situations he approved of. Crowleyseemed intent on fashioning Neuburg after his own image, subjecting him to humiliations and encouraging him in sexual “freedom” Crowley style. Whether it did Neuburg any good is debatable.
Crowley’s contemporary Gurdjieff also subjected his pupils to unpleasant, often painful ordeals; but he never gives the impression that he enjoyed it. Madame Blavatsky, too, often made life hell for the people around her, but one doesn’t feel that she got pleasure from it. Crowley had a nasty streak that his position as a teacher allowed him to indulge, and it is instructive that he quickly backed away from people who resisted him. Yet Crowley was a master at self-justification. If questioned about his sadistic methods, he could easily reply, “But I am only doing it for his own good.”
Neuburg’s own good included a grueling hike through northern Spain at the height of summer, where his and Crowley’s eventual grubby appearance led to their being mistaken for bandits. It also required a magical retirement in Boleskine. This occult holiday was a mix of magical training and straight-out S&M. Neuburg practiced the occult discipline of “rising on the planes,” a form of Kabbalistic meditation. One imagines an astral body, transfers one’s consciousness to it, and then uses it to “rise” through the Tree of Life. Neuburg proved very good at it, early on encountering the angel Gabriel, who wore white and had green spots on his wings and a Maltese Cross on his head. He also met a Red Giant who dismembered him; he was powerless against him until Crowley taught him the sign of Horus (leaning forward and stretching out the arms) and the sign of Harpocrates (putting one’s left forefinger on the lips). Curiously, Neuburg reported nocturnal emissions during some of these adventures. 22 Neuburg’s astral travels were essentially extensions of the kinds of experiences Yeats had when experimenting with the
tattwa
symbols, but they are also very similar to what Jung called “active imagination,” a method of conscious fantasy that connects the conscious and unconscious mind. For Jung, the beings and landscapes encountered in active imagination emerge from the archetypes of the collective unconscious; for Crowley and Neuburg, they are the denizens of the Kabbalistic “paths” between the
sephiroth
of the Tree of Life. Swedenborg practiced a similar discipline on his many journeys to heaven and hell, and Rudolf Steiner did much the same when he “read” what he called the Akashic Record. (In
A Secret History of Consciousness
, I suggest that we have a natural capacity for this in what is known as “hypnagogia,” the strange state of consciousness between sleeping and waking. 23 Jung, Swedenborg, and Steiner were all good hypnagogists.)
We may argue whether the inner spaces encountered in Jung’s or Neuburg’s experiences were “merely” psychological or true “objective” mental realms. Nevertheless, each explorer encounters a strange inner territory that also seems to have its own odd “objectivity.” Even non-occultists experience this. After taking mescaline, Aldous Huxley spoke about the mind’s “darkest Africas, its unmapped Borneos and Amazonian basins,” remarking on the
Crowley’s contemporary Gurdjieff also subjected his pupils to unpleasant, often painful ordeals; but he never gives the impression that he enjoyed it. Madame Blavatsky, too, often made life hell for the people around her, but one doesn’t feel that she got pleasure from it. Crowley had a nasty streak that his position as a teacher allowed him to indulge, and it is instructive that he quickly backed away from people who resisted him. Yet Crowley was a master at self-justification. If questioned about his sadistic methods, he could easily reply, “But I am only doing it for his own good.”
Neuburg’s own good included a grueling hike through northern Spain at the height of summer, where his and Crowley’s eventual grubby appearance led to their being mistaken for bandits. It also required a magical retirement in Boleskine. This occult holiday was a mix of magical training and straight-out S&M. Neuburg practiced the occult discipline of “rising on the planes,” a form of Kabbalistic meditation. One imagines an astral body, transfers one’s consciousness to it, and then uses it to “rise” through the Tree of Life. Neuburg proved very good at it, early on encountering the angel Gabriel, who wore white and had green spots on his wings and a Maltese Cross on his head. He also met a Red Giant who dismembered him; he was powerless against him until Crowley taught him the sign of Horus (leaning forward and stretching out the arms) and the sign of Harpocrates (putting one’s left forefinger on the lips). Curiously, Neuburg reported nocturnal emissions during some of these adventures. 22 Neuburg’s astral travels were essentially extensions of the kinds of experiences Yeats had when experimenting with the
tattwa
symbols, but they are also very similar to what Jung called “active imagination,” a method of conscious fantasy that connects the conscious and unconscious mind. For Jung, the beings and landscapes encountered in active imagination emerge from the archetypes of the collective unconscious; for Crowley and Neuburg, they are the denizens of the Kabbalistic “paths” between the
sephiroth
of the Tree of Life. Swedenborg practiced a similar discipline on his many journeys to heaven and hell, and Rudolf Steiner did much the same when he “read” what he called the Akashic Record. (In
A Secret History of Consciousness
, I suggest that we have a natural capacity for this in what is known as “hypnagogia,” the strange state of consciousness between sleeping and waking. 23 Jung, Swedenborg, and Steiner were all good hypnagogists.)
We may argue whether the inner spaces encountered in Jung’s or Neuburg’s experiences were “merely” psychological or true “objective” mental realms. Nevertheless, each explorer encounters a strange inner territory that also seems to have its own odd “objectivity.” Even non-occultists experience this. After taking mescaline, Aldous Huxley spoke about the mind’s “darkest Africas, its unmapped Borneos and Amazonian basins,” remarking on the
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