Building the Way
From our previous discussions of the Way as a way to realize the mind’s potentials, one might have gained the impression that the Way is an absolute given, and that the Magus’s lot is merely to follow from one key point to another.
At the same time, we have already mentioned that the Way is a dynamic system which, while preserving the general line of its development (Orlög), constantly varies in the specific ways that line is realized (Wyrd).
In other words, when a Magus says he has found his Way, it does not mean that he knows exactly what to do and how to do it in every particular situation; he means that he sees his Orlög — the direction in which his development should proceed.
It would be very good if all the choices a Magus makes in his life were absolutely right.
It would be very good if those who have Masters listened to their Masters, and if Masters never erred in their vision of a disciple’s Way.
It would be very good if those without a Master listened to their heart and never confused its voice with the whispering of the Parasite of mind.
Then the Magus’s Wyrd would precisely follow his Orlög and would represent the shortest Way to realize the potentials available in his current incarnation. In that case a Magus’s life would be a swift, luminous flight, cutting across the sky in its flight. Sometimes, of course, such “comets” appear on humanity’s horizon, passing high above it and leaving behind a trail of astonishment and admiration.
But far more often, no matter how much a Magus strives, he is hardly ever infallible, and above all, his integrity lies in not straying from the Way even when the choices made lead him away from it.
Therefore the Magus does not simply follow his Way; he builds it, altering it each time circumstances pull him aside from the general line of his development.
Put differently — as soon as a Magus notices he is deviating from the course of his power, he must urgently redeploy his forces and find the most suitable means to restore his Way to its proper course.
Clearly, such conduct requires close monitoring of the direction of one’s movement; therefore the Magus must constantly ask himself where a given choice will lead him, and must not forget to “look back,” making sure he is indeed going where he intended.
And it often takes considerable courage, above all to admit to oneself that one has made a mistake, turned aside, and that one will have to expend effort, sometimes even extraordinary effort, to return one’s life to the right course.
Thus it is obvious that the chief condition for a Magus to keep to his Orlög is maximal inner honesty, the absence, or at least the suppression, of self-justification in any situation, and a clear-eyed view of oneself and one’s current position. Only the acknowledgement of one’s mistakes makes their correction possible, and attentiveness and concentration help reduce mistakes to a minimum.
It turns out that True Will is basically, Orleg. Wyrd is something practically identical to the concept of Karma. Karma is not in the primitive sense of retribution and punishment, but in the broader sense that Crowley brings into this concept: ‘Thus, the Pentacle is, in a certain sense, identical to the Karma of the Mage. The karma of a person is their “ledger.” The balance has not yet been settled, and a person does not know what it will turn out to be; moreover, they do not even fully realize what debts they have to pay and what, in turn, is owed to them; furthermore, they do not know when exactly the bill will be presented even for those payments they anticipate. If one had to conduct business on such terms, it would lead to complete chaos, and in reality, that is precisely the chaos that reigns in human life. While one toils day and night over insignificant trifles, some colossal force may already be approaching “pede claudo” to strike them. The ordinary person is scarcely able to read all the entries in this ‘ledger’; the method of reading them is described in one important instruction from A.’. A.’ – ‘Book 913’ or ‘Tisharb’. Moreover, note that Karma is everything a person possesses and all that they are. Their ultimate goal is to rid themselves of all of it when the time comes to sacrifice their Self to the Beloved; but at the beginning of their path, the magician is not yet a Self but merely a pile of rubbish from which this Self must be built. To destroy magical instruments, they must first be made. Many of those one might not expect such confusion from, including the Buddha himself, have mixed this concept of Karma with poetic ideas of justice and retribution. There is a known legend about one of the Buddha’s arhats who, having been blind, inadvertently crushed numerous insects while walking. (Killing is the most awful crime for Buddhists.) Other arhats questioned what crime had brought such a fate upon him, and the Buddha told them a long tale about how, in his past incarnation, their brother had maliciously blinded a woman. But it’s merely a tale, a bogeyman fit only for scaring children; and it is arguably one of the worst ways to educate the youth that human folly has devised. Karma does not work that way. Moreover, in any case, moralizing tales should be composed with great caution, lest they turn against those who use them. Remember the Passion and Patience of Banyan? Frisky Passion played as much as it liked until it had broken all the toys, while obedient little Patience carefully set aside its toys. But Banyan forgot to mention that, by the time Passion had broken all the toys, it had outgrown any need for them. Karma does not operate on the principle of “an eye for an eye.” “An eye for an eye” is, in a way, the justice of a savage, and our human notions of justice are entirely foreign to the laws of the Universe. Karma is the Law of Cause and Effect. There is no commensurability in its action. It is impossible to predict what a given chance might entail; the entire Universe is just one grand chance. We may visit familiar friends for tea a thousand times without incidents, but on the thousand and first, we encounter someone who will irrevocably change the course of our lives. Every impression received by our mind is, in a certain sense, the resultant of all the forces that have acted upon us in the past; not a single detail goes unnoticed, having played some part in shaping our character. But this principle has nothing to do with crude retribution. It is possible to exterminate a hundred thousand lice in an hour, as Brother P[erdurabo] once did at the foot of the Baltoro glacier. It would be absurd to assume, as the theosophists do, that for this, he will now be killed a hundred thousand times by a louse and that it will not benefit him. On the other hand, we constantly suffer terrible punishments for actions that cannot be called crimes at all. Even our virtues sometimes bring down the wrath of offended nature upon us. Karma only grows from the material suitable for its nourishment; and to grow Karma properly, one must keep it on the strictest diet…” (Magic. Elemental Theory. Pentacle).
Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that True Will is the Will that is adequate to Orleg (if we speak of Will as something quasi-substantial). But in any case, the first task of the Great Work is to make Wyrd adequate to Orleg.
You rightly and not in vain called the passage of the Path ‘building.’ During advancement, there was a feeling of a solid foundation laid for a new consciousness structure. It was as if a core arose on which something new is now being built. You refuse something, you gain something. And the further you go, the more and larger the temptations to turn aside. And that which you have built requires further action. And that which is acquired is more valuable than what was overcome.