Aceldama: A Place to Bury Strangers In

Keep it clean, the kids are invited to sit around the campfire.
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Aceldama: A Place to Bury Strangers In

Post by Hytegia » Wed May 20, 2009 2:53 pm

This is just a quick note:

The First Book of Aleister Crowley, first published in 1819 under the pen name "A Gentleman of the University of Cambridge."

Sorry to cut that post so short. I was being bold and typing it duiring Youth. :P)

However, Aceldama was basically (as I interpret it) the story of the decline of Crowley's belief in God. The Quote is in my signature, but it still has a resounding effect on me. I will give you a more thurough quote now, straight from the page.

It was a windy night, that memorable seventh night of
December, when this philosophy was born in me. How the
grave old Professor wondered at my ravings! I had called at
his house, for he was a valued friend of mine, and I felt
strange thoughts and emotions shake within me. Ah! how I
raved! I called to him to trample me, he would not. We passed
together into the stormy night. I was on horseback, how I
galloped round him in my phrenzy, till he became the prey of
a real physical fear! How I shrieked out I know not what
strange words! And the poor good old man tried all he could
to calm me; he thought I was mad! The fool! I was in the
death struggle with self: God and Satan fought for my soul
those three long hours. God conquered—now I have only one
doubt left—which of the twain was God?
Howbeit, I aspire!
- Opening of Aceldama: A Place to Bury Strangers In by a Gentleman of the University of Cambridge (Aleister Crowley)

I'm not claiming that I worship the man, either. I just want it to be clear that, in the course of my studies of Magick and the like, Aleister Crowley made an impression on all of us. So much so that the dogmas of the day called him (and I quote) "The Most Wicked Man on Earth."
Then I realized something amazing. Aleister Crowley and I are so much alike. And I'm sure that I'm not the only one who is like him, either. His story is most of our stories. A Philosiphical Battle with God and Satan, but to only find that one can't tell the two beings apart. And the story expands on what exactly happened in those three hours (in poetry, ofcourse).
I think this poem should be on everyone's Reading List, simply becouse of it's relation to all of us, and the rise of the most popular and (as many will claim and so will I) powerful person on the Earth.

"Water, water, everywhere,
And all the boards did shrink;
Water, water, everywhere,
Nor any drop to drink."

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