THE DEMON OF ALGOL

It is at times imperative to repeat certain phrases when discussing comprehension. What has been said in chapter thirteen, with reference to alcohol, cannot be emphasized enough.

There is no need to discuss the effects of alcohol at length. Its name in Arabic (the same as the Algol star which represents the Head of Medusa cut off by Perseus) simply means the Demon…

Whether in fact it is a demon or a malefic spirit when it possesses man, its effects are clear and easily demonstrable from the drunkenness, the delirium tremens and the madness, with forms of paralysis and other hereditary defects passed down through descendants.

Unquestionably, alcohol has a vibratory tendency to disintegrate, dissolve and destroy, being a product of destruction which also originates in our organism and which is eliminated through the skin. It dries our tissues and destroys nerve cells which are gradually substituted with cartilage.

It is manifestly clear that alcohol tends to eliminate the capacity for independent thought and calm judgment since it fatally stimulates fantasy. It also shockingly debilitates ethical sense and individual liberty.

Dictators from the past, tyrants, were not unaware that it is easier to govern and enslave a nation of drinkers than that of abstainers.

It is also well known that with a state of intoxication you can make someone accept any suggestion and carry out deeds which are contrary to their sense of decency and morality. The influence of alcohol on crime is notorious, so much so that it is unnecessary to stress the fact.

Hideous alcohol, climbs the precipice and tumbles into the abyss of perdition; it is the malignant substance which intimately characterizes the “Infernal Worlds” where nothing can be heard but screams, howls, whistles, neighs, squawks, bellows, cackles, mews, barks, snorts, roars and caws.

Abominable Algol turns incessantly within the vicious circle of time.

It insinuates itself in everywhere, ever tempting; it seems to have the knack for ubiquity, at once smiling from the gold or silver goblet under the gilded ceiling of a pompous palace or making the long haired bard in some dreadful tavern sing.

Malignant Algol is at times very subtle and diplomatic. Watch it shining dangerously in the glittering glass of fine baccarat, offered by the beloved woman!

And, said the poet, when a beloved wine-tipsy woman endeavors to strip in the soft, perfumed mahogany bed, her guardian Angel departs for a while…

We are all going toward an end, we all have our name in the fatal amphora. Never drink the accursed liquor, I tell you, because if you drink it you will quickly lose the path.

“Very strong wine from Sabina in small glasses, will you drink with me now, although in the Greek amphora in which it was bottled I myself sealed it,” exclaims Satan from the depths of the abyss…

In his black depths each demon fulfils its task, getting the vineyard ready until sunset, and like a God he calls you, when at merry supper the time to drink fermented wine arrives.

With new inspirations in their lares, the peasants drink their health and offer libations with must, and the perfidious Medusa, Algol smiles in enjoyment with her victim.

Fasting, mortification and the wearing of hair shirts begs the anchorite or penitent at merry dawn and after all have finished their sipping between the spree and the orgy when a weary sun sets in the west.

What does time not erode? Already our dear parents were inferior to our coarse grandparents, we are worse than them and in withered decadence between liquor and tragedy we are followed by corrupt descendants.

“How different are the progeny? – When from another family!

Who stain the seas of Sicily with Punic blood.

Who lay Pyrrhonians and Antiochians low with only one stroke and faced formidable Hannibal until the end.

“A virile breed of rustic soldiers, used to plough clods of earth with a Sabellian hoe, stalwart people obedient to a severe mother, who at her command charged, at the last hour.

“The day’s enormous trunks hewn for the home, when weary oxen are loosened from the yoke, and sinks the sun into the shadows which night has gathered, and in friendly repose the farmhouse settles.”

Now everything is over; this poor humanity full of so many sorrows has degenerated with the abominable vice of alcohol.

And who are these idiots who seek to negotiate with Satan? Listen my friends! With the sinister Demon Algol it is impossible to make compromises, arrangements or any kind of crooked deal. Alcohol is very treacherous and sooner or later will stab us in the back.

Many people with THELEMA (Will) only drink one or two glasses a day, a terrific fiddle, isn’t it?

Compromises? Arrangements? Crooked deals? Talking of people inexperienced in life in Socratic language we can say not only are they ignorant but they are also unaware of the fact that they are ignorant.

Whether drinking a little or a lot, the atoms of the secret enemy, which are similar to microscopic pieces of glass with the passage of time are furtively and subtly incrusted within the living cells of the human organism.

Divine beings as well as human beings know well that the Algol Demon takes possession of the human body very subtly and slowly until, one day, it precipitates us towards the abyss of drunkenness and insanity.

Listen to me very carefully, gnostic students: In the light of the sun or of the moon, of day or of night, any agreement, transaction, diplomacy or negotiation with this malign spirit is condemned to failure sooner or later. You have to be radical with the Algol Demon!

Remember, devotees of the Secret Path, that the ill-fated axle of the grievous wheel of Samsara is lubricated with alcohol.

With words of fire in the book of all mysteries it is written that with alcohol demons resuscitate already dead egos – those abominable, brutal and bestial creatures which personify our psychological errors.

Since liquor is related to the Vayu-Tata (the air element), while drinking it we fall like the inverted Pentacle head downwards and legs upward into the abyss of ruin and dreadful sorrow (see chapter 13.)

The shaft of the abyss, from which smoke rises like a great furnace, reeks of alcohol. That woman of the Apocalypse of Saint John dressed in purple and scarlet and arrayed in gold, precious stones and pearls drinks alcohol. She holds a golden cup in her hands full of abominations and the filthiness of her fornication. That is the great whore whose number is 666.

The religious guide, priest, mystic or prophet who makes the mistake of getting drunk with abominable alcohol is truly wretched!

It is good to work for the salvation of souls, to teach the Doctrine of the Lord, but truly I tell you that it is not fair to slap in the face those who follow you.

Priests, anchorites, mystics, missionaries that teach the people with love, why do you scandalize them?

Perhaps you ignore that scandalizing the people is equivalent to being disrespectful, to slapping your very followers in the face. When are you going to understand all this?

Samael Aun Weor