Thelema Lodge Calendar for May 1992 e.v.

Thelema Lodge Calendar

for May 1992 e.v.

The viewpoints and opinions expressed herein are the responsibility of the contributing authors and do not necessarily reflect the position of OTO or its officers.

Copyright © O.T.O. and the Individual Authors, 1992 e.v.

Thelema Lodge
Ordo Templi Orientis
P.O.Box 2303
Berkeley, CA 94702 USA

May 1992 e.v. at Thelema Lodge

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

Announcements from
Lodge Members and Officers


CHANGES FOR THE TLC

This month the Calendar is late for two reasons: 1. The usual. 2. The unusual. From its initial typed appearance in December of 1978 e.v. (earlier circulation was casual and in the form of handwritten notes), the Thelema Lodge Calendar has depended on contributors and coordination with the members of the Lodge. The first Calendar was just that, a single page copied for distribution at the Lodge. It began to be mailed out in 1979 e.v., still a single page. In January of 1981 e.v., the Magickal Link was born and the Calendar went into two editions. The single page version was mailed to nonmembers in the SF Bay area; while the members of OTO around the World received the Magickal Link monthly, with the Calendar just inside the back page as part of the mailer-wraper. That continued until March of 1986 e.v., when the Thelema Lodge events calendar was dropped from the new Magical Link at the direction of the Grand Master. Thelema Lodge had ceased to be the Grand Lodge of O.T.O., and a purely local events list was inappropriate for the Agape Grand Lodge members' publication. The TLC didn't stay one page for long, but quickly grew back to the full twelve pages it had formerly shared with the Magic(k)al Link. An electronic edition was added in 1987 e.v. for circulation on computer Bulletin Boards. Today the Thelema Lodge Calendar has a worldwide postal circulation of about 640 copies a month. It is the longest running Thelemic monthly around. In the Continuum, out of 418 Lodge, has been around longer without a break in publication; but that excellent journal only appears at intervals some months apart. Two issues of the TLC were skipped in all that time, both owing to diversion of effort toward legal cases. The first time it was the Order's suit against Motta and S.O.T.O. The second time it was the aftermath of the September 1989 e.v. raid that knocked us back an issue.
What's the usual reason for the TLC being late? Too much going on. What's the unusual reason this time? Not enough active participation by the Lodge. That's never happened before. Normally the Editor gets about a page to fill up with "From the Out Basket", sometimes more and sometimes less. All the rest comes from the Lodge as a whole (the Calendar pages), individual contributors, or volunteer staff. This month we have lost two features, the narration of the events of the month and "From the History Heap". Last month we lost "The Naked Splendour of Nuit". Next month, we may lose more. Thanks to Brother John B., we have enough of Grady McMurtry's poetry to last the mundane year. The "Crowley Classics" are about run out of prepared rare material, but that can be supplemented with more and with re-publications. This issue concludes Frater U.P.'s "The Rite of Ouranos", and there is precious little in the wings for the June TLC. Why is there a dropping off of contributors? Many reasons, some personal and some stochastic (no no, not sarcastic, "stochastic" -- look it up, improve your vocabulary); but, it comes to one thing. The editor does not a Thelema Lodge Calendar make. The editor makes little annoying changes in grammar, spelling and imprudently direct remarks. The editor also writes filler. If the Thelema Lodge Calendar is to survive as a periodical, there must be more to it than my musings and memoirs. We need book reviews, poetry, short articles, columns, features and all sorts of things of 200 to 1500 words length. If you are affiliated with Thelema Lodge or a regular reader, please consider contributing to the TLC. Somebody who knows what the coming events are could write up a brief description of them. A coordinator of volunteers and copy would be of immense help. One fair warning, however: If you want to contribute to the publication, don't be too shocked if the Editor questions your "Judgement" in some particulars. Full names of members are generally not a good idea, unless you get their consent; and most vitriol belongs under glass, not on paper. Sorry, no Neologisms; we's Thelemalogues here. Having problems getting to a final draft, reducing your work to 1500 words, with research or illustration? The editor is here to help. Send contributions to OTO-TLC Editor, P.O.Box 430, Fairfax, CA 94978. (415) 454-5176. If you can provide a 5 1/4 DS DD IBM diskette with your copy, so much the better. The usual person who forwarded copy is no longer available.
The Lodge has major publishing projects in the planning stages; but if you feel the need for a monthly, please consider contributing to the TLC. It's a venue for short items that gets out far and fast. With enough help, it might even get out on time! Please note, publication here or assistance in the works does not signify direct representation the authority of Frater Aleph-Mem-Taw to charge and command -- whatever that means. I heard stories of such things, and frankly don't understand. Used to be, when somebody thought I was being difficult, they called me to complain. Often found out that I didn't know what was being attributed to me. Sometimes found out it was worse. Question Authority!


Primary Sources

Karl Germer:
(22nd January 1885 e.v. to 25th October 1962 e.v.)

Brother Karl Germer, Frater Saturn, Grand Master of O.T.O. from December 1947 e.v. to October 1962 e.v., made notes of his experiences over the years. Here's an account he wrote less than a year after Crowley's Greater Feast. This selection focuses on his flight from the Nazis and visa troubles. An outline for a book about his experiences in a Nazi concentration camp is also extant. Although he made efforts to conceal the fact from A.C., Karl Germer had been arrested by the Nazi's for his efforts on behalf of Crowley. Crowley was the "high- grade British Freemason" noted below. The difficulties Germer had with getting a British visa continued after the war. He was denied permission to travel to England when Crowley was on his death-bed. The history of O.T.O. might have been very different if Karl Germer had been able to received final instructions from Crowley. Germer probably wrote this account in yet another doomed attempt at getting a visa to go to England, this time to clear up Crowley's estate. Such bits of history as this shed light on the development of the Order.

New York, October 4, 1948.

I have lived in London, England, from 190{0} to 1904; I was the representative for Alfred Herbert Ltd., Coventry, Berlin Branch, from 1912 to 1914, representing them in Eastern Germany and West Russia; during that period I visited England again.
I came to London again in 1929 on my way from New York and travelled to London repeatedly between 1929 and 1932. When the Nazis took over in Germany I went to London and lived there from 1933 to 1934, all the time preparing my departure for the U.S.A. to rejoin my American wife, but I failed to get my U.S. immigration visa in time.
The Home Office refused to extend my temporary visa and I returned to Germany at the end of 1934. (From February 5, 1935 to August 1935 I was in a Nazi Concentration Camp.) I escaped from Germany in October 1935, and entered England on a Belgian refugee passport at Harwich (if I remember correctly) at the end of November 1935. I obtained a temporary visa which was extended from 3 to 3 months; until at the end of November 1936 I was asked to leave England. I had not been able to earn any money because regulations did not allow me to do so. I was in a desperate plight. Friends who knew that I spoke English fluently persuaded me not to return to Belgium which was too close to the German frontier and people had been known to have been kidnapped by Nazi agents, and the Nazis had been searching for me because I had written a book against them. They suggested that I go to Ireland which they said was a "Free State" where I could easily begin activities in the machinery line.
I decided to do this and I think I arrived in Dublin on Dec. 1, 1936. I quickly made contact with a leading machinery firm who were eager to put my expert knowledge into their services; I was very successful there, in fact after 4 weeks they financed the purchase of a car which I paid off within a few months.
Around Easter 1936 there was a need for me to make a business trip in the interest of the machines which I handled to Belgium. I decided to use the opportunity to regularise my stay in Ireland and obtain a permanent visa. I went to the French Consul in Dublin and asked for a visa. When he saw my Belgian refugee passport (the only document I had) he said it was impossible to give me a visa; He would have to apply for this in writing to Paris, and this would take three to four weeks. My business did not permit such a delay. When he saw my predicament, he came outside his office and said: I have spoken to you in my official capacity, now let me talk to you as a person. There is a way for you to cross the channel over the Easter holidays by going to London and buy a week-end ticket; this allows you to set foot at Boulogne (or was it Calais?) without any visa.
This sounded simple, and I followed his advice. When I got to London I bought a return ticket to Paris without any formalities. (The point has been raised at the British Passport Office in New York that I had claimed to be a British subject. This is not true. I have never done this, and would not do this. The official in New York then tried to explain the details of how one buys such a ticket in London; that there are several booking offices, one for British subjects, another for aliens. I do not think that I paid any attention to any of this. I remember talking to the man at the window asking him some questions about the validity etc., etc., I cannot remember details; enough, at that time I was proud to be able to speak the language with great fluency. It seems to me that the train on which I arrived came very early in the morning and I was eager to catch the next train; there was not much time to lose.)
On the boat I was asked by the French official (the English official, if there was one, never bothered me) to show some paper to identify me. It was then that I showed a calling card of a man who had just died and whose widow had asked me take over the machinery business of her husband as without such help there was no one to continue it. (Her husband whom I knew well enough, had felt his end coming and implored me to assist his family if something should happen to him.) I had a supply of those calling cards with me for the exact purpose of identifying me as being the one who continued in that machinery business. I certainly did not pose as having the name shown on the calling card; I did not say one word; there was much rush and pushing on board because it was Easter.
I attended to my business affairs in Belgium and France and obtained a new Belgian refugee visa. I presented this to the British Passport Office in Brussels which issued a proper visa for Ireland. I went via Harwich where I was stopped and ultimately sent back to Antwerp.
As I had many business obligations in Ireland my return to Dublin was imperative. I asked for a new Belgian passport; I went again to the British Passport Office in Brussels who again issued a visa for a trip to Ireland direct; on arrival in Dublin I presented this passport, and after several weeks was ordered to return to Brussels. The Minister of justice informed me that if I could obtain from the German Ambassador a letter that he withdrew his objection against my stay in Ireland, he could arrange for a visa. I know this part sounds incredible: it is a fact; I could, if necessary, amplify it with many details which can now be told but which I had to withhold for many years in order not to compromise certain persons. Mr. Smylie, editor in chief of the Irish Times, was fully informed by me at the time; he was amazed and wanted to take steps in the Dail to stop the fifth column influence.
In subsequent years I was able to build up a fairly large machinery export business in Brussels, exporting Belgian machines mostly to England. This should have necessitated visits to England, but with a Belgian refugee passport a special British visa was required. Whenever I applied for one it was refused.
Had I been a good and fanatical Nazi I would never have met with any visa trouble in England. As it turned out it was my being an enemy of the Nazis that led to my victimisation by the British. (The crime, which the Gestapo accused me of, was being in touch with high-grade British Freemasons.)

Other documents of this sort will appear from time to time in these pages. There are quite a few unusual ones, shedding light on byways of Thelemic and O.T.O. history. Examples include a 3/13/52 letter from J.F.C.Fuller to Grady McMurtry, giving Fuller's latter day opinion of Crowley and one from Frieda Harris to Karl Germer in January 1948 e.v., stating a belief that Gerald Gardner was the head of OTO in Europe at the time of Crowley's death.

Next Primary Sources


from the Grady Project:

Voyager

Out of the star enshrouded night it fell,
A battered derelict that space had maimed,
Its hull a twisted wreck, its power tamed,
And of its crew no living soul to tell.

Space dry and thin the rigid mummy sits
And marks a vigil only death may keep;
What endless night, what weary age of sleep
Has he kept sentinel? No lip admits.

That was a golden age, that world carefree
When men stood foursquare on the crust of Urth
And threw their challenge to the stars; with mirth
They swore to conquer all infinity.

So armed with courage knowledge would deny
Their fragile bulbs of steel wire launched to float
Across the shallow solar gulfs, where bloat
Strange moons and planets in a crowded sky.

And then with knowledge astronautic gained,
With fire atomic as a willing slave,
Upon the silent God of Night they gave
An offering of ships, and men ordained.

Of men imbued with zeal the mystics know
Who manned those mighty ether ships that fell
Like pebbles dropping down an endless well
Until they came to alien suns where glow

The incandescent vapors multihued,
Where toxic gasses burn with tourquoise light
Or smash the space-time contin'um with white
Heat from a hellish dwarf, where planets brood

Like peering eyes that stare upon the doomed;
And from those new worlds of the starlit seas,
From island nebulae, from galaxies,
From burned-out suns whose glory once illumed

Weird destinies. Here cosmic engineers
Set colonies along their orbit runs
Till navies filled with commerce of the suns
Bore fruit of conquest, for those pioneers

On the high sea of interstellar space
By trellised lace of orbit lines, and force
That binds each star and planet to its course
Had welded fast their empire. But the race

Of humankind had changed as aeons passed.
No longer was the man of Urth supreme,
But cosmopolitan, had lost his dream,
And though he stood where wealth of knowledge massed

Had thrown his outposts to the chasmed lip
That marks the lightless, ultimate abyss
Beyond which shore no beacon sun may hiss
Or sibilate in silence, yet the whip

Of manly strength that was his heritage
Sank deep and fallow, while his gnarled machines
Were given to the task, and thoughtless means
Of mindless android monsters who for gage

To measure used no human eye that scans
But walked in darkness shadowed by the length
Of instruments prehensile to strength
Of electronic solenoids, where spans

The rippled muscles of a force that spoke
The unleashed power of atomic might
Stripped from the glowing nucleus, where bright
And hot the whiplashed positrons are broke

Against bedrock neutronium, but soft,
Effeminate and poised the progeny
Of space tanned mariners where dark debris
Who bloated on the ebb tide, for aloft

The tentacles that spread to integrate
With calculus logistical the plan
That was to be the Monument to Man;
A universe of virile peace, a state

Omnipotent of matter, held decay
And back the tide rolled, back across the years
Of light and peace, back down the trail of tears,
For empire is not won within a day

But must be purchased by the blood of those
Who dream the Greater Dream, and who would die
While searching in the archives of the sky
For knowledge that was placed beneath the Rose

So long ago, back to its place of birth
It slowly ebbed, and then along the sands
Of outpost planets it has washed, rough hands
Colonial were set against the Urth

And Chaos ruled. So came the Tongueless One
To walk the empty spaceways, and to grin
With his huge imbecility, at men
Beat down into dust and, beaten, shun

Their heritage. And now from Urth is seen,
When with a slow, majestic sweep begun
Each eventide at setting of the sun,
The Wheel of Stars parading down the screen

Zodiacal, the constellations lost,
The solar systems, fertile worlds, and rocks,
The frigid planets, and the flame swept locks
Of guardian keeps on Mercury. The cost

Was paid in treasuries of energy
Extraneous, and toil and sweat and thought
Of terrene life to barren planets brought,
Ten billion New Worlds in immensity.

And now the old Urth, like a jeweled hag,
Her gemmed cities bright against the breast
Of umbrial shadows draped across the West
From shoulders of the senile hills that sag

With weariness that ages slow erode,
Has gathered her ephemerae to dwell
In cities sealed and domed with crystal shell,
Here sits the Elder Brethern, here they bode

In vaulted halls to weigh the Cosmic Plan
By symboled logos, and as worlds set free
Launch each a space-borne fleet to destiny,
They comprehend the All; this was our Pan!

-- Grady L. McMurtry                       
8/6/43 e.v.                       

[Previously unpublished.]

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Crowley Classics

Prayer: A Note

by Aleister Crowley

[[Excerpted from the annotations to Liber LXVII: The Sword of Song, Called by Christians The Book of the Beast, 1906 e.v.]

Some years ago I thought to try
Prayer--test its efficacity.
I fished by a Norwegian lake.
"O God," I prayed, "for Jesus' sake
Grant thy poor servant all his wish!
For every prayer produce a fish!"
Nine times the prayer went up the spout,
And eight times--what a thumping trout!
(This is the only true fish-story
I ever heard--give God the glory!)

This fish-story is literally true. The condition was that the Almighty should have the odds of an unusually long line--the place was really a swift stream, just debouching into a lake--and of unusual slowness of drawing in the cast.
But what does any miracle prove? If the Affaire Cana were proved to me, I should merely record the facts: Water may under certain unknown conditions become wine. It is a pity that the owner of the secret remains silent, and entirely lamentable that he should attempt to deduce from his scientific knowledge cosmic theories which have nothing whatever to do with it.
Suppose Edison, having perfected the phonograph, had said, "I alone can make dumb things speak; argal, I am God." What would the world have said if telegraphy had been exploited for miracle-mongering purposes? Are these miracles less or greater than those of the Gospels?
Before we accept Mrs. Piper (a twentieth century medium), we want to know most exactly the conditions of the experiment, and to have some guarantee of the reliability of the witnesses.
At Cana of Galilee the conditions of the transformation are not stated--save that they give loopholes innumerable for chicanery--and the witnesses are all drunk! (thou hast kept the good wine till now: i.e. till men have well drunk--Greek, , are well drunk).
And I am to believe this, and a glaring non sequitur as to Christ's deity, on the evidence, not even of the inebriated eye-witnesses, but of MSS. of doubtful authorship and date, bearing all the ear-marks of dishonesty. For we must not forget that the absurdities of today were most cunning proofs for the poor folk of seventeen centuries ago.
Talking of fish-stories, read John xxi:1-6, or Luke v:1-7 (comparisons are odious). But once I met a man by a lake and told him that I had toiled all the morning and had caught nothing, and he advised me to try the other side of the lake; and I caught many fish. But I knew not that it was the Lord.
In Australia they were praying for rain in the churches. The Sydney Bulletin very sensibly pointed out how much more reverent and practical it would be, if, instead of constantly worrying the Almighty about trifles, they would pray once and for all for a big range of mountains in Central Australia, which would of course supply rain automatically. No new act of creation would be necessary; faith, we are expressly told, can remove mountains, and there is ice and snow and especially moraine on and about the Baltoro Glacier to build a very fine range; we could well have spared it this last summer.

finis

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DRAMA

The RITE OF OURANOS

(published with the permission of Andrew Clay)

Conclusion

     [OURANOS nods, erases board, begins new drawings - from
            underground there are five knocks and some low, angry
            groans - OURANOS roars and stamps once in reply
            - GAIA begins weeping]
MERCURY. What's wrong? [AQU. moves to GAIA]
GAIA. They're our children too, down there, though HE won't admit it.
     [OURANOS makes 'no way' signs and twists his face up in a
            caricature of ugliness]
GAIA. So what if they're not perfect? They're beautiful in their own way! You're not giving them a chance!
     [OURANOS makes 'no way' sign again]
MERCURY [to PROMETHEUS]. Are some of Gaia's children under that rock?
PROMETHEUS. Yes, it's a sad case. Strange, monstrous creatures -
GAIA. Monstrous! What do YOU know! [to OURANOS] Why can't things just have existence? Why do they have to follow some - some scheme or vision you've dreamed up?
     [OURANOS groans and stamps, signs 'no way' - mimes that
            he is a hunchback dwarf creeping across stage - grabs
             GAIA and AQUARIUS and points at audience - all onstage
            stare at audience with some bewilderment - OURANOS
            points at them and signs that they are boxed in and morose]
MERCURY. I think I see his point. Pitiful existence they have.
GAIA. It's not 'pitiful'! They're fine too! Maybe they don't 'leap to the stars' - maybe they're mean to each other sometimes - [OURANOS cackles loudly and bitterly] - but they have lives! They have joys sometimes! And at least they have some form, some weight! I'm not even sure if you're really there!
     [OURANOS pauses, smiles, shrugs and exits]
GAIA. This can't go on. Everything is so erratic; there's no ... calm or peace ... there's no room for anything to grow ... [she becomes resolved] Yes, it is time. Kronos knows. He can do it. Time must begin, and the world must begin.
     [GAIA begins song:]
Kronos, Kronos,
Your time has come, your time has come
Kronos, Kronos,
My youngest one, your time has come
Let the children of Earth be freed
Time dancing in reality
Let their bodies walk on my fertile ground
Harbinger of the seasons,
Steadfast regularity
Weighted down in reason,
Steadfast regularity
Ye child of the New Year
This sickle I give you dear
To sever all that lives in its time

    Oh horned one of night,
    Hoofed and bare, your delight,
    Children of Earth may you sire
    And remember in your balls
            is my heart's fire
    Son of Earth and Chaos,
    Footsteps of lead, footsteps of lead
    To your father's flights of fancy,
    You must lend your heavy hand
    Let your brothers out of Tartaros land
    Oh child do you understand
    I place the future in your hand
     [KRONOS appears as song ends - he is withdrawn, childlike
            - they embrace]
MERCURY [to AQ]. Who's that?
AQUARIUS. Saturn, eldest son and heir to Lord Ouranos.
MERCURY [incredulous]. So THIS is the bad guy?
AQUARIUS. He does not yet know his power. [pointedly] It is time for us to cease questioning. The universe is about to be born.
     [Meanwhile GAIA and KRONOS have been whispering together
            - GAIA produces a large sickle, gives it to KRONOS, points
            for him to hide - KRONOS takes sickle and crouches just
             offstage - immediately OURANOS reappears, animated
            - he grabs PROMETHEUS and brings him to the chalkboard
            - he draws pictures of hydrogen atoms fusing and makes
             explosive gestures - PROMETHEUS doesn't get it -
            OURANOS writes e = mc2 - same - finally OURANOS
            places his hands on PROMETHEUS' temples, holds, releases
            - as PROMETHEUS speaks OURANOS madly flips on devices
            until all are on and the room is abuzz]
PROMETHEUS [possessed]. Energy is matter is energy is what matters is the inviolate speed of light square equals the force the explosion the force the compression the radioactive particles decay decay the conversion the rays converted to light squared to heat the thermonoo the flash the radiant primordial egg at the core the heat two million degrees at which temperature the rays the particles energy the plasma two million degrees at which point deuterium and tritium the heat the conversion cascading into higher elements as the conversion into light into light into light into light into light into light into light into light into light into light into light into light -
GAIA. Enough!
     [At her cry GAIA pulls the plug on the electric power running
            all the devices - TITANS enter stage right and seize
            OURANOS - KRONOS leaps up, grasps OURANOS' genitals
            and severs them with the sickle - OURANOS screams
            - KRONOS tosses the organs into the pool, which begins to foam]
KRONOS. Now let there be weight, and duration. Let all be born into my world as objects; let all condense into lead. Let all things endure according to my laws, and be bound by the chain of matter and causation. Let them meet the challenge of existence or die, as I shall decree. I am that which is! I am the lone God! No god is before Me!
TITANS [w/Nazi salutes]. Hail, Kronos! Hail, Kronos!
     [There is another battery of knocks and moans from below]
GAIA. Kronos, if thou art truly Lord, release my children from bondage. Can you not hear them call to you?
KRONOS [pauses, weighs the situation, then stamps four times]. No! In Tartarus shall they remain. Ouranos did well to bind the brutes.
GAIA [furious]. How dare you! Yaldabaoth! Samael! You know neither your origin nor your demise! No gods before you! Blasphemer!
KRONOS. I know not of what you speak. I am Lord of the Universe. Let all look upon me and despair. Let Time begin its inexorable march, driving all things before it to the arms of death. All existence is subject unto me.
TITANS. Hail, Kronos! [salute!]
OLYMPIANS. Hail, Kronos! [bow with embarrassment]
PROMETHEUS. Hail, God of slaves! I know thee! Thou art a jailer and a torturer. Deceive thyself not: there shall be many who see past thy ruses, and defy thee. Death, thou shalt die!
KRONOS. Many? do you speak of man? Man is a frail creature. He wages a futile battle against the chaos of the elements, so long as he can knit the matter of his body into the order of life. By the sweat of his brow shall man earn his bread. [To TITANS] Come, let us establish our reign.
     [SATURN and TITANS exit stage left marching.]
GAIA. Hear me, Kronos! Against you I prophesy: one of your offspring will release my children and cast you from your throne. [aside:] Men! Either flakes or fascists! [Exits stage right]
PROMETHEUS. They always go for the underbelly, don't they? The guts or the crotch. Hack it off, or burn it off, or flail it open, or nail it to a table - a thousand methods from the torture chambers of history, and all with the same purpose: to sterilize - to prevent the impulse from being transmitted. For progeny to rise against them - that is their fear. [He moves to OURANOS] They will win, and they will lose. And they will win often enough to call themselves victors in their time. But always there will be truth, and defiance. [He grasps OURANOS' hand - pause - he rises] And always there will be torturers and the tortured.
AQUARIUS. I think we should be leaving now. Come, Prometheus. A being more subversive by far than you is arriving shortly.
     [Exit AQUARIUS, MERCURY & PROMETHEUS - OURANOS
            is left lying alone on stage - pause - from the pool in back
            of the stage VENUS rises, wet, trailing seaweed - she touches
            the sleeping OURANOS and exits, following AQUARIUS et al.]

finis

The Rite of Ouranos, Part I


From the Outbasket

Some editorial observations:

ITEM: c. 11:30 AM, Good Friday. Procession behind man crowned with thorns and carrying cross on Miracle Mile going in to San Rafael.
ITEM: c. 12:30 PM, Good Friday. At Fairfax Post Office, a man looking at newspaper in dispenser sees headline and says: No Clemency! Good, Harris ought to die!

-oOo-

Did anyone really think a jury in Simi Valley, probably the most conservative town in the United States, would convict "white" police officers for using unnecessary force on a "black" motorist? Is anyone really surprised at a reincarnation of the Watts riots after the last twelve years? The United States has been in denial on a level unknown since 1944 e.v. Germany. No matter what the facts, its all rosy. Too many homeless and unemployed? No problem, change the way the statistics are reported, move them out of town. A President who vetos everything that might cost his friends money. A Congress that votes for funds that its own Ways and Means Committee is preprogrammed to suspend. A nation that ignores the news and journalists more interested in bed-room bingo than brains. As long as people in this country think "black" and "white" are races, this country will be racist. There is no black race and no white race. Those words are prime segregationist terms, racist, not racial. Yet school children of more than one ethnic origin are required to "CHECK ONE: White, Black, Hispanic, Oriental".
What's wrong with this picture? You, if you don't vote. One vote won't make any difference, but taking "My vote won't make any difference" for a mantram is one and the same with spreading a plague. The odds against any particular event happening exactly as it did happen are near infinite. Yet every event happens, odds be damned. It's the same with futility. If you think you can do nothing, you will be right. If you try to do something to make things better, other people will see you and they might try it. The odds against that perfect world you dreamed of as a kid are astronomical. So what! Do what you think is right at the time. There is no other way to do your Will. If you base inaction on the failings of others, you are a slave.
-- TSG (Bill Heidrick)

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Events Calendar for May 1992 e.v.

5/3/92Lodge Council & LOP 3:33 PMThelema Ldg.
5/3/92Gnostic Mass 8 PMThelema Ldg.
5/4/92Thelema Lodge meeting 8 PMThelema Ldg.
5/5/92BeltaneThelema Ldg.
5/9/92Jerry's Logoraea 6:30 PM
Call to attend
Thelema Ldg.
5/10/92Gnostic Mass 8 PMThelema Ldg.
5/12/92Planetary Magick a la Agrippa
with Mark S. Class 7:30 PM
Invocation 9 PM
Thelema Ldg.
5/14/92Magick in Theory and Practice
Study Circle with Marlene 7PM
Thelema Ldg.
5/16/92Thelema Lodge initiations
Call to attend
Thelema Ldg.
5/17/92Mass Workshop 4:18 PMThelema Ldg.
5/17/92Gnostic Mass 8 PMThelema Ldg.
5/19/92Introduction to Chakras Study Circle
With Andrew, 8:00 PM
Thelema Ldg.
5/20/92Class on Banishing Rituals 8 PM
with Bill Heidrick
Thelema Ldg.
5/23/92Thelema Lodge initiations
Call to attend
Thelema Ldg.
5/24/92Gnostic Mass 8 PMThelema Ldg.
5/27/92Basic Astrology with Grace 8 PMThelema Ldg.
5/28/92Magick in Theory and Practice
Study Circle with Marlene 7PM
Thelema Ldg.
5/30/92Jerry's Logorrhea 6:30 PM
Call to attend
Thelema Ldg.
5/31/92Lodge Clean-up begins 1:11 PMThelema Ldg.
5/31/92Gemini Birthday party 4:18 PMThelema Ldg.
5/31/92Gnostic Mass 8 PMThelema Ldg.

The viewpoints and opinions expressed herein are the responsibility of the contributing authors and do not necessarily reflect the position of OTO or its officers.

Thelema Lodge
Ordo Templi Orientis
P.O. Box 2303
Berkeley, CA 94702 USA

Phone: (510) 652-3171 (for events info and contact to Lodge)

Production and Circulation:
OTO-TLC
P.O.Box 430
Fairfax, CA 94978 USA

Internet: heidrick@well.com (Submissions and circulation only)

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