MAGICAL STATES OF CONSCIOUSNESS:
SECRETS OF PATHWORKING
by Osborne Phillips

MODULE 5.2

http://www.aurumsolis.co.uk
E-mail: paracletian@tiscali.co.uk

Copyright © 2002 by Leon Barcynski
All rights reserved
No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted
 in any form or by any means 
without prior permission in writing of the author

MSC MODULE 5
Unit 2
THE 24th PATH: INITIAL WORKING                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          

CORRESPONDENCES
Sephirah of commencement
	Greek name: Niké.
	Hebrew name: Netzach. 
	English name: Victory.
	Aurum Solis Divine Name: ALBAPHALANA.
	Hebrew Divine Name: YHVH TZABAOTH.
	Planetary correspondence: Venus.
	Element: Fire.
	Colour: Green.
Path of the Tree of Life
	Titles: The 24th Path; the Image-making Intelligence.
	Aurum Solis Divine Name: SABAO.
	Hebrew Divine Name: ELOHIM GEBOR.
	Philosophic attribution: Gnostic teachings on the Great Mother.
	Influence: Scorpio (the Scorpion). In Ezekiel’s vision, the Eagle.
	Hebrew letter: Nun (Fish).
	Magical Image: Tarot Arcanum XIII, Death.
	Planetary correspondences: Mars, Pluto
Element of the Path: Water.
	Magical phenomena: Vision of the Dark Mother; the death wish.
Sephirah of return
	Greek name: Asphaleia.
	Hebrew name: Yesod.
	English name: Foundation.
	Aurum Solis Divine Name: IAO.
Hebrew Divine Name: SHADDAI EL CHAI.

PRELIMINARIES
1 – The participants stand in a circle around the altar.
2 – The battery is sounded: a single stroke of bell or gavel.
3 – The director states:
	I proclaim a working of the Twenty-fourth Path of the Tree of Life!
4 – All link hands right over left.
5 – The director proclaims:
	The 24th Path is the Image-making Intelligence, so named because it provides shapes for all created entities which are of a nature allied to its own complex beauty.
6 – The participants visualize a single sphere of white light above the centre of the circle. 
	This sphere grows brighter and more radiant, until the light from it encompasses all participants.
7 – The director proclaims verse XXIV of The Song of Praises:
Nearest the heart of the seas
Watches the Fish, shimmering, nacreous,
Moving with pulse of the tides,
Gliding far down under their turbulence,
Crossing the fathomless caves,
Threading the lost hulls of the argosies –
Shadow inscrutable!
8 – All participants now visualize a wall of white light enclosing their circle and revolving anti-clockwise; then they visualize a wall of blue light, revolving clockwise about their circle and replacing the wall of white light.
9 – After a few moments, all visualization is allowed to fade from consciousness.
10 – The participants unlink hands and seat themselves. They close their eyes and breathe in a steady rhythm, evenly and quietly.
11 – The director sounds the battery once, and makes the invocation:
	May we be encompassed by the power of the name ALBAPHALANA (or YHVH TZABAOTH) and established in Netzach, Victory.
May the portal of the 24th Path be opened to us, and may we journey thereon in the power of the name SABAO (or ELOHIM GEBOR). 
And, having tasted of the adventures of that Path, in the name IAO (or SHADDAI EL CHAI) may we be received and established in the Sphere of Yesod, the Foundation.
13 – The battery is sounded once, and the Pathworking commences.

THE WORKING OF THE TWENTY-FOURTH PATH

Oration
1
We are standing in a temple in which our first impression is of light and vitality.
	Seven hanging lamps, suspended at equal distances around the central area of the temple, burn with steady emerald-like points of green flame; while over the central Bomos, the Lamp of the Mysteries sheds its white radiance, illumining the brilliant green covering of the Bomos and the Mystical Tessera which rests upon it. And, pervading and finding expression through all these things is the feeling of serene and beneficent sunshine.
	There is a clear sunlit sky outside, seen through the open doorway which, with the two pillars, the black and the white, is behind us. Yet now a glorious beam of golden light flashes towards us from the far side of the temple, across the Bomos. Passing around the Bomos, we go to seek the source of this inspiring radiance.
	Directly opposite the door of the temple is an alcove, which enshrines a large and beautiful symbol. A large, equal-armed cross, standing upright, forms the lower part of this symbol. The four arms of the cross are of stone; that on the right coloured olive-green, that on the left russet, the lowest arms black and the highest citrine. Surmounting the cross, at a height slightly above our heads, stands a circular frame of malachite enclosing a shining mirror whose diameter is the same as the width of the cross. Placed in this way, the mirror reflects nothing but the brightness outside.
	For some time we contemplate this symbol. It most plainly represents the powers and qualities of the Four Elements surmounted by the pure radiance of the Sun Sphere. But, since the sun in its reality symbolises for us the world of Spirit, a deeper mystery is hinted in the image we are contemplating. For the total image – the equal-armed cross supporting the circle – is the sign of Venus, the planetary power which not only represents the forces of Nature but also signifies Harmony; and here it can betoken especially the great harmony and equilibrium between our higher nature and our lower when they are brought into unity.  
	This suggests a further conclusion. Surely, by sincere aspiration, we can mount naturally and easily through the lower order of things into the higher, and find awaiting us in the spiritual world all the shining reality of which the beauty of the lower worlds is but the darker substructure? We are native to all the worlds – the material world, the astral world, the worlds of mind and spirit – and therefore, surely, we have but to take as our starting-point the sphere of the forces of Nature, in order to go forth and to claim our inheritance?
	Standing before the symbol, we look more attentively into the alcove that contains it. There is a space between the symbol and the wall of the temple. Stepping aside to look into that space, we discover therein a door; the door is slightly ajar, and it leads to the outer world.
2
	We pass through the door, and find ourselves walking upon a path that leads beneath a heavy arch of leafy stems of climbing roses. These stems are laden with buds, but there are no blooms as yet; and as we pass beneath this arch, the sharp thorns catch at us. 
	We leave the shadow of the arch, but do not find ourselves in the expected sunshine. Here is a different region, a place of silver mist: an all-enveloping mist that hides even the ground beneath our feet.
	We tread lightly, silently. Or do we float here, navigating unmeasured deeps of mist with neither bearing nor sounding to direct us? We would go more slowly if we could, halt if we could; yet still our ankles move and we glide onward.
	Nothing here threatens us. We are not cold nor hot, not weary, not menaced by anything. Only, we are lost: lost to sight and hearing, bewildered, troubled. Nothing threatens us. We fear that Nothing. 
 	We are oppressed by the silver mist, by the silence and the lack of form. If we could stand awhile we might consider what course to take; but on what would we establish an opinion, by what reasoning would we decide? Still we move onward, our senses straining for any least impression to engage them. At last, searching through the bland barriers of the mist, they find contact: something that the sight sees not, but seems faintly to taste, something that the hearing hears not, but seems delicately to brush upon. This presence is behind us, unseen, unheard as yet, but menacing, approaching stealthily. We would flee from it because of its mysterious approach. We are drawn to it, because it exists and moves.
	We cannot halt our gliding progress forward, nor, we find, can we hasten it. As if we moved through some sluggish liquid denser than water, we advance only by conforming our pace to its slow yielding. During our first struggles against it, as if we were setting up an opposite vibration in the atmosphere, the mist surrounding us darkens from silver to a lurid deep greenish blue. We have thus made worse our condition for no gain. In the unbroken and seemingly unbreakable silence, it is as if our hearts cry aloud for aid; and even if we were to be answered by that which pursues us, even that would be welcome. 
	The stillness hangs heavy as if none had heard. But now, as slowly we continue to advance, a shaft of white light seems to dart down from the shadow above us to the shadow before us; it darts down, and there remains, gliding slowly onwards so as to maintain constantly the same distance ahead. As we gaze at it, there is a movement within that light. Within the shaft, somewhat above the height of our own heads, a countenance turns to look upon us.
We see no form of a body, and the features are fashioned of the light itself. It is a commanding face, broad at the cheekbones, with aquiline features, eyes deep-set but penetrating, the mouth and chin austere and resolute. Then it turns away again while the shaft of light continues to move steadily before us; but we know, beyond any doubt, that those features of light have truly looked upon us, those deep-set eyes have seen even within our hearts. This luminous being will be our guide.
3
	More confidently now we move upon our way. But the silence is no longer unbroken. Now a brief snatch of speaking, ended before we can begin to understand it, sounds suddenly in the air above us. Vainly we try to recall it, to hear it again in memory well enough to hazard at least a guess as to the words, but we cannot even remember the sound well enough to know if it was a man’s voice or a woman’s. We stumble, and lose time while we struggle in the heavy air. It seems to us that the shaft of white light has moved further away from us. We dismiss the disturbing voice from our consideration, and press steadily on towards the radiance of our guide.
	Now brighter than a star, yet lovely with all the gentle changeful hues of pearl, a burst of light shines forth above us a moment, and is gone. Our eyes seek after it, wonderingly, yet to no avail; and now, perforce, we turn again towards the austere shaft of light that guides us through this region of vapours.
	Again a sound of voices: voices most musical now, uttering unknown words yet sweet to the ear as a soft sound of bells. At the same time a cluster of lights, high above, diffused by the mist, shines briefly upon us with a glow of rose-colour and lilac. Now sound and light are gone, before we could fix attention upon either; but it seems to us as we remember that perhaps beyond the lovely gleam of light we saw for a moment reclining forms, faces that looked down to us. Perhaps they were only shapes of fantasy: we do not know, but we raise our arms to them as a sign in case they may have reality.
	Again we stumble, and now we seem to be falling slowly forward. Soon, indeed, we cannot tell whether we are falling: we seem to be suspended, turning helplessly as we float in a void. Gradually the deep greenish blue shadow that has surrounded us begins to disperse. We are drifting in an atmosphere of milky light in which radiance moves and eddies, as if the mist were at each moment about to part.
	Now all about us, sometimes coming close and sometimes fading, sound again sweet voices, with brief unrecognisable fragments of thrilling music. Away before us, moving steadily onward, we see the shaft of pure white light, the austere presence that guided us through the murky shadows, but at this time we have little heed for it. A world of beauty and light is about to burst upon us, to overwhelm us with its wonder and bliss.
4
	Now, in visions through which we float, we are encompassed with delight. In slow succession we pass through landscapes of stupendous loveliness, palaces adorned with more than earthly splendour, swaying oceans, illimitable cosmic vistas. At one moment we look from sublime and awesome mountain summits, where the wind blows the white dust of eternal snow across the burning cheeks of skies filled with sunrise; at another moment we pass through green secret valleys where water murmurs all around under the heavy bowers and drifts of leafage, and the birds fly securely as in a primal paradise.
	Now we gaze across a plain of gold, where black trees with the sheen of copper in their leaves stand like sentinels placed at random. Upon a hill beyond is a city, where the fortified walls are of white marble and the towers are roofed with blood-red tiles.
	We glide to that city and enter into the topmost fortress. There within the spacious square of the enclosing wall is a garden open to the sky. There, too, is a shining pool whereon white swans float, and beside which peacocks walk and spread their plumes to catch the sparkling drops from the tall jet of a fountain. In this garden upon brightly coloured cushions sit young men and maidens of noble form and feature, some playing musical instruments and some happily conversing. We hear snatches of their talk, and when it is not directly of love it is upon the great themes of beauty, truth and goodness; but always with delight. Then we are borne onwards from that place.
	Everything we might conceive to exist of beauty, of whatever kind, is here disclosed to us, each marvel seeming real and tangible around us until it gives place to the next. There are no bounds, no measure in beauty: a galaxy whose birth we have witnessed in the splendours of space may seem intimate and precious like a cluster of gems to be held in the hand, or we may find ourselves walking softly through the wonderland of a single blossom, not to mar the dewy surface of the luminous living velvet beneath our feet.
	Most lovely and most poignant among all these wonders is the envisioned beauty of living beings human and non-human, earthly and unearthly. Forms known to us, loved by us, appear among the rest, even as they are known to us and yet transfigured: princely, heroic, angelic in their appeal. And continually a delicious haunting music besets us, breaking and changing when we would listen to it, elusive, fitful, incomplete. 	 
	Time after time it seems to us that we about to make that transition which seemed so possible and so easy: to pass from the world of beauty which can be apprehended by the senses, naturally and without effort to the world of spiritual beauty which is of beauty’s essence. Yet the transition does not come. That which we perceive, see, hear, become aware of no matter how intimately, still remains external to us. We do not, cannot, touch it soul to soul, essence to essence. Yet that is our desire, which truly belongs to our highest and most inward nature could we but achieve it. Without that, all the vision of beauty or loveliness of body, soul or mind that surrounds us is frustratingly, heartbreakingly unattainable.  Our contact with it, which should be immortalised, is but transitory. We feel saddened, wearied, cloyed but yet infinitely dissatisfied. We try to turn away, but the thrilling sounds are still about us as we go, although the soft radiance fades swiftly to the darkness of night in which we see only the light of the guiding presence still going before us.
5
	Now we have become aware of another presence accompanying us: other than the visible light of our guide, other than the vanished beings of beauty. Like a slow beginning of warm rain, like the first deepening of shadows towards evening, this presence has impinged scarcely at all upon our consciousness until we give attention to it. We feel certain it is the same which was pursuing us previously, only at this time it is less strange to us and we feel less threatened by it. It is like something familiar from long ago even though forgotten now, something that attracted us perhaps in childhood: the whispering voice of a forbidden playmate, the bitter fragrance and the imagined flavour of bright red berries or of pallid mushrooms. We cannot name this presence, but it is with us almost palpably.
	Our guide pauses and turns to look at us, then goes forward again. As we follow, we find that at the place where that luminous being paused, the level surface underfoot abruptly ends. Now we must make our way upon a bridge: a narrow bridge which trembles and sways beneath our steps. In the darkness we can see neither the depths of the chasm we are crossing nor its further side, but from far below we hear the roaring voice of a torrent. As we advance, we become accustomed to the movement of the bridge, and more boldly but at an unhurried pace we move forward at some distance behind our guide’s bright shaft of light.
	Suddenly, out of the dark sky, a flock of birds assails us: strange fiery birds with glowing blood-red plumage and fetid breath. Raising our arms, we ward off the attacks of beak and claw, but the birds, alternately darting in and retreating, shed from their flapping wings red-hot feathers that sear our skin as they drift against us. These birds, while they attack, continually reiterate a shrill, harsh cry that pierces our ears and pours forth upon us a stench of carrion.
	While we are defending ourselves from these horrible entities, it is impossible for us to move forward upon the narrow, swaying bridge. As we struggle to defend ourselves against our assailants, the movement of the bridge becomes a dangerously increasing rhythmic swing. We look to our guide for aid in this desperate situation, and as we fix our gaze on the bright shaft of light it swiftly moves out a little way to the side of the bridge, it hovers for a moment above the chasm, then, becoming elongated downwards, it descends, flashing, until the foot of the column seems to rest upon the surface of the dark waters rushing far beneath us.
	The message is unmistakeable, and we perceive that longer reflection will add nothing to our resolution. Facing the side of the bridge where the darkness of the chasm is illuminated by our guide’s shaft of white radiance, we choose a moment when the swaying of the bridge impels us forward and then, adding our own impetus to the movement, we plunge headlong down into the dark water. The fiery birds follow us, giving forth more violently than ever their repulsive shrieking and fluttering their wings so that the burning feathers shower upon us; then, as we sink below the surface of the torrent, they dart away and are gone.
6
	We are not in darkness as we move submerged, for the light of our guide goes above us upon the water, and the whole body of shimmering fluid around us is transfused with that radiance.  Even though the light becomes less distinct as the powerful current carries us onward to greater and greater depths, its source remains always above us as our guide constantly watches over our course. 
	Soon it appears that however wide may have been the torrent into which we plunged, we have now been swept into a far greater expanse of rushing water. Huge boulders are piled beneath us, their surfaces polished so smooth by the immemorial current that their dark colours seem almost translucent as the light strikes upon them: the obscure brownish grey of flint, the angry red-brown of jasper, marble of mottled green and brown and black, the inscrutable green of obsidian, slatey blues of other rocks. 
	And now a predator appears stealthily out of the further shadows. It moves serpent-like, curving from side to side, then pauses to watch from the outer edge of the faint circle of light that contains us. This entity has its own greenish glow of luminescence, in which we see it clearly: with its body coloured a mottled dark red above and pale nacreous blue below, it has its head shaped into a narrow snout in which, at each side of the ferocious armoury of teeth, a long, incurved ivory fang projects downwards from the upper jaw. A spiny scarlet fin, like a crest, extends through the midline of the skull down the backbone. Despite its generally serpentine form this entity has several fishlike fins, but its tail lashing from side to side as it swims is not fishlike: it ends in a tapering point from which now and again the tip of a quivering steel-blue barb appears. The unchanging yellow eyes that watch us from the sides of the head are bright with a cold intelligence greater and quicker than that of either fish or serpent.
	As this monster looks at us, its green luminescence becomes brighter and stronger, and the spines of the scarlet crest rise more erect. We want to escape at once from its threatening presence, but at first we are at a loss how to do so. When we maintain our position or simply drift with the current, it does the same. When we actively move away from it, it begins to close in on us. To move faster is to speed its pursuit. We have to beware not only of the powerful fanged jaws, but also of the whip-like tail that from time to time lashes suddenly sideways and forward, protruding its vicious and certainly poison-dealing stiletto. We move this way and that, frantically conscious that our movements are too slow to outdistance such an opponent, but hoping at least to evade it. A deep gully, which runs away to our left among the boulders below, catches our attention: we impel ourselves downwards as we strive to reach this gully. But our pursuer divines our intention and, throwing off ripples of green phosphorescence that shimmer away like flakes of pale emerald, it moves swiftly in a graceful zigzag to intercept us before we reach the desired gully. We abandon that hope of escape, and turn again to the course of the current.
As we are carried onward we see, to our right, arising from the depths, a group of great rocks set almost vertically, as if tilted up by some subsidence in the underlying bed. This formation appears to offer us a refuge, and quickly as we are able, we turn our course towards it. Again, however, our pursuer moves more swiftly; and a streak of green light flashing through the water gives us warning that we cannot reach that stronghold. Once more we allow the course of the current to guide us. 
	We resolve to move downwards through the water, so that the wilderness of boulders may afford us some protection. The boulders will impede our progress and we know not what other foes may lurk among them, but at least that voracious fanged snout cannot dart forward upon us here, nor can the lethal dart of the tail make its lashing sidelong swing to strike at us. The monster follows us at a distance, and we strive desperately with all our faculties to hasten our descent.
	At the depth we have reached, the white radiance sent forth by our guide is hardly visible to us; but suddenly among the boulders there appears a bright gleam as of sunshine. It is made up of every faint ray transmitted from above, every straying glimmer of light and phosphorescence in the waters, garnered, reflected and magnified among wonderful objects of gold and gems that lie scattered here. As we make our way among the boulders, in one deep crevice and another we behold more of these gleaming splendours, revealed at the very limits of our power to discern them. It seems to us that the monster has impelled us to discover these things and to look upon them. Sometimes, too, a slight variation in the strong current will cause some of these hidden treasures to stir and shift, and momentarily a jewelled cup, a ring or some other object will be mysteriously lifted and turned about as if for our particular notice, and will then sink again into obscurity. In spite of the fascination of these marvellous things, however, we do not linger, for whenever we glance back we see our pursuer still inexorably following behind and above us.
7
	Now as we move deeper we find ourselves in the irresistible grip of a flow more powerful than that which carried us along at a higher level. Almost in darkness we are swept onwards, battered by rocks as we are borne from one narrow channel to another, our limbs tossed violently this way and that. We have no knowledge of where we may be in this world of waters, nor whither we are bound; until, unexpectedly, our movement changes to a swift, smooth course that seems to cradle us in a haven of peace.
	It comes to us that we are very weary of the violence and harshness of this journey. As if in a dream, we recall vividly the fair forms and colours, the sweet and thrilling sounds of the earlier part of this Path, when we were almost, but not quite, able to transfer ourselves into the blissful world of spiritual loveliness. From that point, through no choice save the necessity of each moment we have descended further and further from those shining heights.
	Now in the dim light we perceive that we are being carried helplessly forward and down towards the brink of a gaping pit. The monster has followed us thus far, but now with a final glint from its cold eyes it turns away and leaves us. We, held fast in the current, are powerless even to struggle. As we reach the brink, the pit below us appears to be the crater of an extinct and long submerged volcano, a portal to unimaginable depths. Again, however, even here, there comes to us the certainty that we are not alone. Again we are aware of that unnameable presence, known from aforetime: a presence comforting and yet alluring, filling us with that sweet desire of what appears inevitable, which is so often called a sense of destiny. How it sings to us, calls to us!
	In fascination we look down into the rushing depths of the pit. Their further distance is filled with a dark, intense green-blue, mysteriously reflected within itself to an infinite degree. In the heart of that most profound colour is a remote circular space of ultimate blackness. We are falling towards it with what feels like a lethargic slowness, and with exactly the same slowness the blackness sinks to yet further depths.
	Gradually as we gaze into that blackness the contours of a face appear to us, even as they might appear when a dark surface is used for scrying. It is the face of a woman: a face neither young nor old, but immovably calm and strong. The darkness against which we see that face appears suited to its natural complexion. The sorrow and wisdom of all the ages, as well as their voluptuous joy, are in those deep eyes set wide apart beneath their heavy brow; the high cheekbones, aquiline features and firm chin are those of a woman accustomed to rule, a matriarch whether noblewoman, peasant or prophetess. And even though we have not seen this face before, we recognise her. This is she whose unseen presence has haunted us for so long on this Path. We cannot turn away. The intense magnetism of those eyes draws us, calls to us irresistibly, so that we reach out our arms to her as to a mother. All our yearning is towards that face, forgetting totally in what fatal ambience we behold it.
	O the bliss of encounter with this mystery, of mingling our being with it!
8
	We welcome the profound sweetness of this surrender. Receive us, O Mother!
	But no! In an instant the pit is transpierced by a shaft of dazzling silver radiance. We are caught into that beam of light: we know not whether we are lifted up or whether all the vision of darkness is stripped away from us, but at once we stand face to face with our guide upon the swaying bridge. Yet the darkness, the wrenching and battering of the current among the boulders, the measureless depth of the crater, the allure of the Dark Mother, are still fresh in our memory; in our hearts we ask, Why had we to endure these things?
	It appears to us that our guide replies, Only by enduring them could you know their power. But, the next moment, we cannot recall the tones of that voice. We look again upon our guide, and it appears to us that the guiding countenance of light, and the remembered countenance of the Dark Mother, are the same. But we dare not ask, Who are you?
	And now we are not gazing upon any face, but upon a whirling spiral of silver light, rippling and flashing. We are drawn swiftly into this spiral, surrounded by its bright convolutions, until it suddenly expands and becomes all encompassing.
	The whirling motion ceases, and we see only the gentle undulations of silver light extending in every direction. We stand motionless, reverent and wondering, while gradually the ripples of silver light become edged and tipped with delicate traces of violet.
	All at once we feel smooth rock beneath our feet. We look down and see beneath us a translucent lustrous surface that gathers the light into itself like a moonstone. We look about us again: the silver ripples have formed themselves into a distinct image. Around us as we stand upon the moonstone floor is a wide circle of nine tall crystal columns, equally spaced; their transparent shafts gleam in the soft light, and from within them sparkles the random brilliance of scattered flecks of gold. Before us, in the centre of this circle, is a round pool in which the water is still, black and fathomless.
	We look to the space outside the ring of crystal columns. Except in one direction, all is obscured in a soft blue luminous haze; but directly before us, some distance beyond the columns, is the foot of a mighty stairway that ascends until it too is lost to our sight in the blue haze. At each side of the foot of this stairway stands the colossal rock-carved form of a Kerub represented as a man-headed, winged bull, indomitable in strength and serene of countenance like those of Assyria. These figures have eyes of crystal that flash piercingly through the misty atmosphere; and they stand each with the wing further from the stair upraised, but the wing nearer to the stair extended across it. Thus the two sculptured Kerubim stand with wingtips touching to guard the stair from access.
	Thus have we returned from our journeying, and now we rest in the Sphere of the Moon.

Peroration
	We have travelled the Path of the Scorpion towards the Sphere of the Sun. We have not on this occasion entered that sphere, for this Path which proceeds from the Sphere of Venus – the sphere that governs the forces of nature – does not of itself give access to more than the mysteries of the Astral World. Therein lies the great enigma, and the glory, of human life: that in order to realise our nature in its fullness, we must transcend our natural powers. None the less, this dark and perilous Path has revealed wondrous things. We have truly looked upon the treasures of the deep, the gold of the unconscious that never sees the light of day. Our guide upon this Path has not sought to spare us its experience, and in this we can discern at least one sign of the kinship, or identity, of that mysterious luminous Being with the Dark Mother, upon one of whose countenances we have also looked.
	For she who is here the Dark Mother (but who also can appear as the Snow Queen, or as that “nightmare Life-in-Death” whose “skin is white as leprosie”) is indeed a mother to us, since it is she who lures us into incarnation to taste again the fruits thereof: who tempts us into the way of Life which brings us also under the yoke of Death. In ancient Qabalistic lore she is also Lilith the Serpent Woman, holding out to us the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge whose taste precipitates us into the bondage of the material world, even as in Greek lore Persephone is lured by Hades or Pluto, her male tempter, to eat of the pomegranate which makes her half-subject to the Kingdom of Death. Always the whisper is “Taste and try!” – but if we were to refuse the experience and the penalty, we should also miss the glory to come. Only after passing through the lesser mysteries of Yetzirah can we come to the greater mysteries of Briah.
	Not foolishly, therefore, did we entrust ourselves to our luminous guide, whom we may perceive as either the son or the other self of the great Ocean Mother. Nor are we mistaken to desire union with her; but a return to the instinctual life of the natural world, or of the womb, is not the way. Not through disillusionment, nor through weariness, nor through the fascination of self-immolation can we prevail. However, the treading of this Path, even as it has been, marks a progress. Returning from the Path of the Goat, we arrive in the Earth Sphere. Returning from the Path of the Scorpion we arrive in the Sphere of the Moon. And directly above the Sphere of the Moon on the Central Column of the Tree of Life shines forth the Sphere of the Sun, the glorious objective of this present series of path-workings. When once we have attained thereto, when we travel again this Path of the Scorpion we shall find – as with the Path of the Goat – the conclusion of the adventure to be other than it has been. By these Paths also, when that happy time comes, we shall pass as victors and the gate of the Sphere of the Sun shall stand open for us.

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