Episode Details

Aleister Crowley, Loki’s Brood & the Fury of Hell I by Jack Heart & Orage

“The chains pulled taut around the casts and jerked me back down into the hospital bed as if I had been levitating in my sleep. I was drenched in sweat and for a moment I did not know who or where I was. The combined restraints of my injuries and the manacles had frozen my body to the bed and I felt a claustrophobic panic beginning to overwhelm me. I forced myself to concentrate and evaluate my situation. My memories suddenly came flooding back as if some great spigot had opened up a subterranean torrent of strange images and swirling sorrow.

I had been dreaming. I was in Aleister Crowley’s Boleskine House overlooking Loch Ness. There was a cavernous opening in a wall. It looked like some kind of vault. Within the vault was a gateway which was guarded by a male and a female child. The children were about twelve years old and of oriental descent. They were both wearing flowing silk robes and they did not speak but somehow I knew that Crowley had used them to carry out the instructions given in S.L. MacGregor Mather’s translation of The Sacred Magic of Abramelin the Mage.

Crowley had secured the house by the lake and undergone all the purification rituals prescribed in the manuscript. At the moment when the ritual is supposed to culminate with the appearance of an Angel who will transmit, through a prepubescent child, the sublime revelations that can transform a man into a God Crowley added his own little twist to the ritual. He slit the throat of each of the children and opted to forgo the ungainly intermediary’s in favor of the knowledge being delivered directly to him.

The children now stood as eternal sentinels to the portal he had opened up. They gestured for me to enter and when I did I saw that Crowley had unleashed three great demons into the world. Two of the dark Gods had already insinuated themselves into the collective soul of the human race but the third still lurked on the bottom of the lake. I saw them in their unimaginable vastness and all of the corruption they had brought upon the earth, now reeking with filth.

Suddenly I realized they were aware of my presence as was the one that was dormant on the bottom of the lake. The one on the bottom of the lake was the most powerful and maybe because I could not see it the most sinister. It rose up to meet me and I was griped with fear. I took flight over an endless roiling sea hurtling faster and faster through the grey and angry sky. The terror at my heels took the form of construction dumpsters and I could hear them clanging together as they pursued me. I flew faster and faster till my momentum hurled me across the dreams event horizon and I crashed down into the hospital bed…” – Jack Heart, Those Who Would Arouse Leviathan

It was just a dream, or was it? I know more about Aleister Crowley than any human being will ever live to know. I have been taught all his most secret traditions but the very first thing I was taught is never, never ever, read anything about Crowley that was not written by either himself or Israel Regardie, one of the few men Crowley ever let get to really know him.

Even with all that he wrote and he was a prodigious writer, Crowley has been quoted out of context more often than not. He was the ultimate narcissist and with better reasons than any mere king or queen. Crowley frequently took multiple paragraphs just to say good morning, spraying sentences like a Vickers Machine Gun belching out bullets in WW I, of which he was the primary instigator. There is basically nothing Crowley didn’t say at one time or another…

By the end of March 1933 with the passage of the Enabling Act the National Socialists had attained absolute power in Germany and by June of that year, Crowley could no longer contain his enthusiasm. In the first of a three-part series of articles for the London Sunday Dispatch Crowley gloats; “A