Crowley

Eternity

Vi veri universum vivus vici.

By the power of truth, I, while living, have conquered the universe

We can dispute the origin of the phrase a little later, I was looking at it this morning and wanted to write about it as soon as I did, so here I am, writing about it.

Crowley writes:

Terrible and wonderful is the Mystery thereof, O thou Titan that hast climbed into the bed of Juno! Surely thou art bound unto, and broken upon, the wheel; yet hast thou uncovered the nakedness of the Holy One, and the Queen of Heaven is in travail of child, and his name shall be called Vir, and Vis, and Virus, and Virtus, and Viridis, in one name that is all these, and above all these.

For those of us who do not speak Hermetic, it boils down to this:

His name shall be called Vir [man], and Vis [power], and Virus [poison], and Virtus [manliness], and Viridis [green], in one name that is all these, and above all these.

We can get into Johann Georg Faust a little later in the day if you like, but my 15th Century German is rusty, to say the least.

So, now that I have thrilled all of you with my knowledge of a line that most of you will ascribe to V from the works Mr. Moore, I will go into why I bothered writing about it at all.

It has occurred to me that over the last indeterminate span of time, call it a year or so, I have forgotten that the phrase above applies to me. I have forgotten that even in the grips of depression and anxiety, if I keep the truth in my mind and heart, that there is no way I can possibly fail, or at least it will be nearly impossible to.

I have a horrible habit of going huge stretches of time thinking that nothing that I do will ever amount to anything and all that I am is a minuscule cog in a machine so much greater than myself that I cannot ever hope to see the machine as a whole.

Thinking this is a very unhealthy thing for me as it perpetuates the question of “Why should I try when none of it matters anyway?” When I think those thoughts I slip into the darkest parts of myself and as I get older the slope to get out of that place becomes so much more slippery than it was even just the year before. It gets just a little harder to find that pinprick of light that is needed to march ever towards so that I will find the world I am supposed to live in again.

I couch things in metaphor and symbolism because I am terrified of saying things like I think I am losing my grip on reality as the years go by, or that I am not sure if it is all worth it anymore. I am not trying to run away, or die, or escape, I just think the things I think is all.

I know this is a wee heavy for a Sunday morning at ten, those of you going to church hopefully read this after the fact so that I don’t make you think overlong on things a good church goer should not be thinking of ever, never mind on a Sunday morning.

Maybe it is all bullshit and I am lonely in my thoughts so I puke them all over you so that you must have them, even for a moment, yourselves.

I guess that is up for you to decide.

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