Creepy Crowley

Aleister Crowley: Magick, Rock and Roll, and the Wickedest Man in the World
Gary Lachman
Tarcher, 2014
N0n-fiction 387 pages

In my youth I briefly dabbled in occult musings. I blame Hermann Hesse for introducing me to the god Abraxas in his book, “Demian”. On a visit to an occult bookstore I purchased, and subsequently read, Aleister Crowley’s novel, “Moonchild”. Hesse’s novel impressed me more favorably and I didn’t give Mr. Crowley much thought over the years.

Not until I encountered his name on a plaque along the shore in Cascais. His name was the only two words I understood on the plaque. All the other words were in Portuguese. I was intrigued. In 1930, Crowley faked his suicide in 1930 at the nearby Hell’s Mouth (Boca do Inferno) aided by the poet Fernando Pessoa.

The following day I visited the Quinta da Regaleira. The garden’s buildings were constructed between 1904 and 1910.

It is believed that Templar initiations at Quinta da Regaleira began with candidates entering one of the Initiation Wells blindfolded. Holding a sword close to their heart, they would descend nine flights of stairs – a number that represents the nine founders of the Templar order.

Was it coincidence that I encountered Aleister Crowley a day prior to descending the Initiation Well? Do I detect Crowley’s influence? No. António Augusto Carvalho Monteiro who owned the well died in 1920, ten years before Crowley arrived in nearby Cascais.

Gary Lachman also encountered Crowley in his youth. His bandmates were also intrigued with occult and mystical topics, “ Debbie, the singer, was interested in UFOs, and after rehearsals she often consulted the I Ching about the next band move. Lachman subsequently quit Blondie and began writing full time.

Aleister Crowley is a prickly subject and the more I read about him the less I liked him. His titles, “Beast 666”, and “Wickedest man in the world” were self-conferred, as were some of the mystical degrees he claimed. Whether he was actually as wicked as he claimed to be can be debated. Sodomy is no longer illegal as it was during his day. But I draw the line at eating feces. It’s may not be wicked, but it’s certainly repellant.

Crowley began his magical career as an initiate in the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn. W. B. Yeats was also a member, though Crowley considered himself the greater poet.

Ultimately, Crowley’s thirst for power helped fuel the schisms which ended the Golden Dawn. In later years, Crowley created his own magical practices and beliefs. Who can say if those practices were effective, but Crowley did manage to cultivate many zealous followers and many hefty unpaid debts.

Lachman comments on Crowley’s driving principal:

To side with the devil for the sake of the spiritual seems odd. But Crowley’s spirituality is of the antinomian school; it embraces the idea that the spiritually awakened person is no longer subject to laws, is, indeed, “beyond good and evil.”

I consider this belief erroneous. Spiritually advanced people have no need to show that they are beyond conventional morality. Much of Crowley’s wickedness was showmanship and braggadocio. His accomplishments? Hard to evaluate. Yet he has not gone away. Many rock and rap performers have cultivated Crowleyisms, but that’s only natural. Showmanship and braggadocio are tools pop performers frequently wield.