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THEOSOPHY WORLD ------------------------------------- March, 2004

An Internet Magazine Dedicated to the Theosophical Philosophy

And its Practical Application in the Modern World

To submit papers or news items, subscribe, or unsubscribe, write

to [email protected].

(Please note that the materials presented in THEOSOPHY WORLD are

the intellectual property of their respective authors and may not

be reposted or otherwise republished without prior permission.)

==================================================================

CONTENTS

"Real Liberty: Thoreau," by B.P. Wadia

"The Urge That Must Be Satisfied," by Lester A Todd

"Apollonius of Tyanna, Part XVIII, by Phillip A Malpas

"Tea-Table Talks," September 1891, by W.Q. Judge

"The Indwelling Christ," by John McKenzie

"Writing to Share Something More," by Eldon B Tucker

"The Endless Pilgrimage," by Inga Sjostedt

"Our Consciousness of God," by S. Vahiduddin

"Withholding the Shadow of a Doubt," by James Sterling"Silent Watchers and the Hierarchy of Compassion," Part I,

by G. de Purucker

==================================================================

> Only those who do the will of the Masters are reckoned as

> deserving their notice; aspirations, desires, promises go for

> nothing. What is that will? Well, it is simply to free your mind

> from vain and earthly desires, and to work at the work before

> you always lending a helping hand to others. Get rid of anger,

> vanity, pride, resentfulness, ambition and REALLY LOSE THEM, and

> you have then made the first step towards the understanding of

> the occult; with these feelings latent in the heart it is not

> possible to make one single step in magic.

>

> -- W.Q. Judge, PRACTICAL OCCULTISM, page 54

------------------------------------------------------------------

REAL LIBERTY: THOREAU

By B.P. Wadia
http://document.frmaddaddrs.submit%28%29/http://us.f412.mail.yahoo.com/ym/[email protected]&YY=85360&order=down&sort=date&pos=0&view=a&head=bhttp://document.frmaddaddrs.submit%28%29/http://us.f412.mail.yahoo.com/ym/[email protected]&YY=85360&order=down&sort=date&pos=0&view=a&head=b


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[From THUS HAVE I HEARD, pages 346-50.]

Pure-minded men and women ever remember and revere the Immortals

of the race, like Gautama Buddha or Jesus Christ. Such Teachers

and their Teachings are ever alive in the minds and hearts of

mortals. They are Prophets even today. Their instructions are

prophetic. Seekers find answers to modern problems, personal or

racial, in their instructions.

These Prophets are a class apart. Perfect Sages, they speak

infallible Wisdom. Profound Seers, the Book of Nature is open

before their vision. Below them are Priests of Nature, men and

women who have striven to free themselves from the influence of

the so-called priests and learned religious men.

Today we need more than the Prophets whose light is like the Sun.

We also need the radiance and warmth of the Fires that true

Priests have lit for themselves. Those Fires help us if we

approach with respect, kindling our wood in their Flames.

Wordsworth wanted Milton to be alive in 1802, for "England hathneed of thee." Do we not feel in this year that we need the

author of the Areopagitica and others that loved Liberty, authors

that condemned legislation that coerced life, cramping free

movement of body and speech? These thoughts led us to the great

man who wrote the pioneering essay on "Civil Disobedience." Henry

David Thoreau -- "the bachelor of thought and Nature" as Emerson

called him -- should be with us today in the world that is

groping for the Pattern of Freedom -- not the four or any other

number of Freedoms, but Spiritual Liberty.

Thoreau's calling in life was comprehensive, "the art of living

well." He was almost contemptuous of restrictive

conventionalities and taboos. This month of July is appropriate

for recalling to our hearts some of his ideas. He was born on

July 12, 1817.

To what extent are his views useful and practicable for

application in the world of today? He said:

> To speak practically and as a citizen, unlike those who call

> themselves no-government men, I ask for, not at once no

> government, but at once a better government. Let every man make

> known what kind of government would command his respect, and that

> will be one step toward obtaining it.

Is there a truly Democratic State functioning anywhere today? Is

every man capable of saying what government and which leaderscommand his respect? The very education which citizens are

everywhere given accustoms them to slavish living. Thoreau wrote

some strong words against the American Government of his day:

> How does it become a man to behave toward this American

> government today? I answer that he cannot without disgrace be

> associated with it. I cannot for an instant recognize that

> political organization as my government which is the slave's

> government also.


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The closing paragraphs of "Civil Disobedience" are scathing:

> Our legislators have not yet learned the comparative value of

> free trade and of freedom, of union, and of rectitude, to a

> nation. . . . For eighteen hundred years, though perchance I

> have no right to say it, the New Testament has been written; yet

> where is the legislator who has wisdom and practical talent

> enough to avail himself of the light that it sheds on the science

> of legislation?

How far away the United States still is from the realization of

Thoreau's vision! How far away India is from the pattern the

Father of the Nation set for her to follow!

The closing words of the essay are dynamic and their truth

creates fervor in the mind of an earnest reader:

> Is a democracy, such as we know it, the last improvement possible

> in government? Is it not possible to take a step further towards

> recognizing and organizing the rights of man? There will never be> a really free and enlightened State until the State comes to

> recognize the individual as a higher and independent power, from

> which all its own power and authority are derived, and treats him

> accordingly.

>

> I please myself with imagining a State at last that can afford to

> be just to all men, and to treat the individual with respect as a

> neighbor; which even would not think it inconsistent with its own

> repose if a few were to live aloof from it, not meddling with it

> nor embraced by it, who fulfilled all the duties of neighbors and

> fellowmen. A State which bore this kind of fruit, and suffered

> it to drop off as fast as it ripened, would prepare the way for a

> still more perfect and glorious State, which also I have

> imagined, but not yet anywhere seen.

To appreciate truly Thoreau's vision, it is necessary to

understand his philosophy of living. Emerson writes of his

friend:

> He interrogated every custom, and wished to settle all his

> practice on an ideal foundation. He was a protestant a

> l'outrance, and few lives contain so many renunciations. He was

> bred to no profession; he never married; he lived alone; he never

> went to church; he never voted; he refused to pay a tax to the

> State; he ate no flesh, he drank no wine, he never knew the use

> of tobacco; and, though a naturalist, he used neither trap nor

> gun.

And again:

> Yet so much knowledge of Nature's secret and genius few others

> possessed; none in a more large and religious synthesis . . .

> He was equally interested in every natural fact. The depth of

> his perception found likeness of law throughout Nature, and I

> know not any genius who so swiftly inferred universal law from

> the single fact.


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He condemned sectarianism, but he was a truly religious

philosopher. He never bothered about the churches; he worshipped

at the Shrine of Nature. "He referred every minute fact to

cosmic laws" and "he was a person of a rare, tender, and absolute

religion," wrote Emerson.

Emerson, himself a poet and a mystic -- another Priest of Nature

-- says that Thoreau's "biography is in his verses."

Thoreau is not a great poet, but there is truth in what Emerson

says. We do catch a glimpse of his soul as he uses his

imagination in "I Am a Parcel of Vain Strivings," "The Old

Marlborough Road," "Great Friend," "Tall Ambrosia," "I Was Made

Erect and Lone," and this:

> I am thankful that my life doth not deceive

> Itself with a low loftiness, half height,

> And think it soars when still it dip its way

> Beneath the clouds on noiseless pinion

> Like the crow or owl, but it doth know> The full extent of all its trivialness,

> Compared with the splendid heights above.

How truly applicable are the words of THE VOICE OF THE SILENCE:

> Be humble, if thou would'st attain to Wisdom.

> Be humbler still, when Wisdom thou hast mastered.

------------------------------------------------------------------

THE URGE THAT MUST BE SATISFIED

By Lester A Todd

[From THE THEOSOPHICAL FORUM, June 1939, pages 423-27.]

When a human being reaches that state of evolution where the

material experiences of life no longer satisfy him, his

subconscious Ego naturally creates such a tremendous urge within

him that it necessarily must find an outlet in the thoughts and

actions that dominate his personality. He becomes a Pilgrim,

mentally wandering here and there, seeking that certain something

that will satisfy this urge within him. He may try this or that,

and may almost despair of the hope of finding what he

subconsciously seeks so earnestly.

There may be among those that read these lines just such a

person. We who have also groped about in the darkness ofmaterialism, prodded by the spiritual urge within us, and who

have finally found our way onto the true path of Life, welcome

this possible opportunity to assisting him, our fellowman, to

find that which he may be seeking.

I will tell you a little about Theosophy as briefly and simply in

everyday language as I can. The operations of human

consciousness are threefold. Men designate them as Religion,

Philosophy, and Science. These three are not fundamentally


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different things. We may liken them to the three sides of an

equilateral triangle. They are three views of looking at Truth.

An attempted separation of Religion, Philosophy, and Science is

unnatural. The Theosophist uses their unified vision to proclaim

the hidden facts of being. We may then define Theosophy as a

Scientific Religion, a Religious Science, and a Philosophy of

Nature -- the Oneness of Man with the Universe.

The Teaching says that there is One Infinite Life without

beginning or end. Everything is alive. There is no such thing

as dead matter in Nature. The manifestation of Life in dualities

of Spirit and Matter descends in cycles of Activity and Repose,

whether applied to Cosmic, Solar World Periods, or to such common

alternations as Sleeping and Waking, with which we are all

familiar. Man on Earth is a Life-Atom of the Divine, immersed in

matter, a Pilgrim seeking his way back to the Source.

An orthodox source may have taught you that you have a Soul. You

know you have a body because you can see it. Theosophy teaches

us that each of us is a Soul and that our body is nothing but the

vehicle of our present evolution in this particular incarnationor life. You may liken your body to a house in which dwells the

real man, the Inner Man, the man with the wee small voice,

sometimes called Conscience.

Theosophy teaches that the real nature of Man is sevenfold,

classified as:

(1) SPIRIT is the highest part of man, giving him and indeed

every other Entity its sentient consciousness of Selfhood.

(2) SPIRITUAL SOUL, the Vehicle of Spirit, gives to Man Spiritual

Consciousness.

(3) HUMAN SOUL, Mind, the essentially human element, is the

center of Ego-consciousness in Man.

(4) OUR PASSIONS AND DESIRES are the driving or impelling force

within us.

(5) VITALITY is our Life principle.

(6) ASTRAL BODY is the Model, Pattern, or framework around which

the physical body is built.

(7) PHYSICAL BODY is the House, Man's carrier, no more an

essential part of him than the clothes garmenting his body.

Now that I have told you briefly of the seven principles of Man,

let us consider the very ancient and worldwide doctrine of

Reincarnation or Reimbodiment in flesh. It says that man lives

as a human being many times on earth. The conditions of each

incarnation are the natural result of the causes set in motion in

former lives.

Think of the hope that our belief in Reincarnation gives us. We

get another chance to make up for all the frustrations of this


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life, inequalities, and unfinished business. The failures are

necessary experiences that are part of our evolution.

Reincarnation answers the question that we hear so often, "Why

did this have to happen?" It explains accidents, the deaths of

little children and babies, and why men and women are cut down at

the very threshold of their careers.

Reincarnation is a magnificent prospect. It makes of Man a God

and gives to every part of Nature the possibility of rising on

the Ladder of Life. For what does the Universe exist? For what

final purpose is Man, the immortal thinker, here in evolution? It

is for the experience and evolution of the soul. It is for the

raising matter to the stature, nature, and dignity of conscious

godhood. We can only carry on physical and spiritual evolution

by Reincarnation.

You ask, "Why do we not remember our former lives?" The physical

brain produces memory, which perishes with the body. The soul

remembers its experience. In the too seldom flashes of intuition

or hunches, we have the answer and the possibilities.

Reincarnation is the natural method by which the soul evolves.

It logically implies that we experience the results of our

thoughts and actions in past lives. These experiences, the

adjustment of causes to effects, are the manifestation of the Law

of Karma. Karmic Law is unerring. It is the natural Law of

Justice, which wisely, intelligently, and equitably adjusts each

effect to its cause. It is in no sense fatalism or chance, which

have no place in Theosophy.

With this knowledge of Karmic Law, we have the comforting thought

that our destiny is in our own hands. We not only can control

such destiny, but we must do so. Bear in mind that every action,

every thought that you have, is a force sent out from within you,

that later on -- no matter how much later -- comes back to you as

an effect, and the effect must produce equilibrium or harmony

with its cause. Each one is therefore his own karma, and

whatever happens to us is the natural harvest of former

plantings. Our Leader beautifully expresses this principle in

GOLDEN PRECEPTS OF ESOTERICISM:

> Sow an act, and you will reap a habit. Sow a habit, and you will

> reap a destiny, because habits build character. This is the

> sequence: an act, a habit, a character, and a destiny. You are

> the creator of yourself. What you make yourself to be now, you

> will be in the future. What you are now, is precisely what you

> have made yourself to be in the past. What you sow, you shall

> reap.

Our evolution goes on and on according to the Law of Cycles, not

like a train on a straight track, but rather along a spiral path,

ever returning toward a past circuit of our experience, but

always bounding the curve in another, broader sweep. There are

cycles within cycles. We are familiar with the alternations of

day and night, life and death, sleeping and waking, the ebb and

flow of the tides, the four Seasons. Nature continually repeats

itself and so do all manifestations of Nature including


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ourselves.

This simple exposition of the Theosophic teachings of the Seven

Principles of Man, of Reincarnation, Karma, and Cyclic Law, may

awaken in your consciousness the knowledge that you are not the

helpless mortal that you may have thought you were, cringing in

fear of divine wrath that might be visited on you because of your

human frailties. Not at all. You are a definite part of the

Divinity of all Nature. Below you in varying states of evolution

are the Elementals, the Mineral Kingdom, the Vegetable Kingdom,

and the Animals. Above you are the Mahatmas, those perfect men,

relatively speaking, whom Theosophists call Teachers, Elder

Brothers, Masters, Sages, and Seers. They are the Guardians of

the Race and of the Records of past ages, portions of which they

give out from time to time, when the world is ready to receive

them, as fragments of a now long-forgotten Wisdom.

You are one class of young Gods incarnated in bodies of flesh at

the present stage of your own particular evolutionary journey.

The human stage of evolution is about halfway between the

undeveloped life-atom and the fully developed Kosmic Spirit orGod.

Recognize your Divinity and with such recognition realize your

responsibilities to all Nature. Begin to acquire within that

inherent sense of Universal Brotherhood, not in the sense of

sentimental unity or political or social cooperation, but in the

Spiritual Brotherhood of all Beings. Begin with your thoughts.

Thoughts are powerful energies. Each is an embryo of your future

karma.

If you understand and accept these few simple Theosophical

truths, limitless possibilities of action within yourselves will

open up. By the very impetus of your own efforts, you will go

forward, unafraid, and with dignity to your inescapable destiny.

------------------------------------------------------------------

APOLLONIUS OF TYANNA, Part XIX

By Phillip A Malpas

[The following comes from a series that appeared in THE

THEOSOPHICAL PATH, under Katherine Tingley as Editor and

published at the Point Loma Theosophical Community. It later

appeared in book form under the title TRUE MESSIAH: THE STORY AND

WISDOM OF APOLLONIUS OF TYANA 3 B.C. -- 96 A.D., published by

Point Loma Publications.]

PRISON

The Emperor finished the morning's business and went to the hall

of Adonis after he had completed the sacrifice. He had not taken

off the fillet of green leaves from his head and was still

thinking of the sacrifice when Apollonius was brought in, Damis

having been thrust aside at the gates. Suddenly the Emperor

looked up from the flowers made of shells that adorned the hall.

For the moment, he was more amazed than the Tyanean's friends had


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ever expected. Aelian prepared himself for anything, especially

the unexpected. How could anyone say what would happen where

Apollonius was concerned?

"You have brought me a spirit," said Domitian to the Prefect, in

amazement.

"Well now, I was just thinking you were like Diomed at Troy under

the protection of Pallas, O Emperor," said Apollonius. This was

a promising beginning, Aelian thought, for did not Domitian

consider himself specially protected by Pallas?

Apollonius continued, "She purged his mortal sight and gave him

the power to distinguish between Gods and men. Now you show me

that the goddess has not removed that mist from your eyes, for

you would not have ranked men among the demons, if it were so."

"How long have you had your eyes purged," asked Domitian.

"A good long while now, ever since I began to study philosophy."

"How is it you have come to consider the Gods as my greatest

enemies," said the Emperor.

"Are you at war with Airchas and Phraotes the Indians, whom of

all men I consider divine and deserving to be called gods," said

the Tyanean.

"Do not change the subject to Indians," said Domitian. "Answer

me as to Nerva, your intimate friend, and his accomplices!"

"Certainly! What is your command? Do you command me to plead his

cause or not?"

"Yes, plead it," said the Emperor. "For he is already convicted

of crime. Are you not in conspiracy with him? That is what I

want to know!"

Aelian heard Apollonius adopt a confidential, gossipy sort of

tone, as if he did not care how much he said, if he could only

gain the favor of the Emperor by telling everything.

"Listen," he said, "and I will tell you how far I am concerned in

the matter. Why should I conceal the truth?"

Things were going splendidly for the Emperor, but how could

Aelian retain a glimmer of hope for Apollonius? Here was the old

man going to give the whole case away. Oh, why had he not letsome lawyer prime him with what to say! The Emperor leaned

forward with his ears ready to catch every little secret, and

some big ones, too, for were they not going to send Nerva,

Orfitus, and Rufus to their deaths?

Apollonius began. Could Aelian believe his ears?

"I know Nerva is one of the most moderate and mild of men. I

know that he is much attached to you. He is an excellent


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magistrate, so little disposed to meddle in affairs of state that

he even shrinks from the honors attending them. Besides this,

his friends, Rufus and Orfitus, are in my opinion moderate men

and despisers of worldly wealth. They are, in short, as far as I

know them, men too backward to interfere where they ought, and

where it is lawful. These are not the kind of men seeking to

cause revolutions or helping those who do."

Think of Aelian's feelings! He dare not show the slightest sign

that he knew Apollonius and was secretly his friend. Now he dare

not laugh. The Emperor was furious. He let go the vials of his

wrath, saying anything and everything that came to mind and

abusing Apollonius unmercifully, for recommending these

disturbers of empire as good men.

"I know you all, you wicked ones! If I asked them about you, they

would say you were neither an enchanter, nor hot-headed, nor a

boaster, nor covetous, nor a despiser of the laws, because you

are all in league together."

He had let out the whole arsenal of the accusation, and everyarrow was blunt and every feather frayed. What a dossier! Still,

what philosopher was ever accused otherwise? There was one shaft

left in the quiver.

"I know as well as if I had been on the spot with you," thundered

the Emperor, "the oath you took, the place where you met, and the

cause of your conspiracy. I know the sacrifice you made."

That was a clincher. Apollonius was calm.

"It is not honest in you, O King, nor agreeable to law to enter

into a judicial discussion of what you are already persuaded, nor

to be persuaded of what has not been discussed. If such is your

pleasure, permit me to begin my defense with saying that you are

prejudiced against me, and are more unjust than the common

informer. He at least promises to prove what you take for

granted without proof."

Had anyone, could anyone, ever have spoken to Domitian like that

before? There was no eluding the argument.

"Get your defense ready then," said the Emperor, "begin it in any

way you like. As for me, I know where to begin and where to

leave off."

Then his fury broke out afresh. He treated Apollonius like the

worst of felons. His hair was to be cut off. The barber knewhow to blunt his scissors and razors. If they would not cut, why

what was to prevent those old locks being pulled out? He was

loaded with fetters and cast among the worst criminals in the

prison.

"I do not think you need fear my hair," said Apollonius. "It is

not very dangerous. What is the good of binding me in chains if

you think I am a magician, an enchanter?"


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"I have bound you and will not let go until you change yourself

to water, or a wild beast, or a tree."

"Supposing I could do even that, I would not, lest I should

betray those men who run the risk of being put to death! What I

am, that I will remain, subject to all you can inflict, till I

have pleaded their cause."

"Who will defend your?" asked the Emperor.

"Time, the spirit of the gods, and the love of philosophy to

which I have been devoted," said Apollonius.

There were secret enemies of Apollonius, and this kind of thing

did not please them at all. They did what such secret enemies

have ever done. They spread abroad the report that he had made

his defense and was condemned and that is why he was shaved and

put in irons.

This is obviously untrue, as Damis says, for if he was then

condemned, why was a letter, a long prolix yarn spun in theIonian dialect, which Apollonius never used except to make his

will. In this, he is made out a suppliant, as though he had

confessed himself guilty. Was there ever a philosopher who went

through the eternal program without these things? Will there ever

be one, or will the method of playing the game ever change? The

hid hand behind was well known to Apollonius, as he showed when

the next move on the board was made.

Two days later another visitor entered the prison and promised to

help Apollonius. He was a Syracusan, a Sicilian, and he tried

other tactics than the agent who had failed before. Apollonius

knew he was an agent from the first and governed his conversation

accordingly, giving the strangest and most unexpected

philosophical replies to all the questions volleyed at him from

the very beginning. That tack was no good.

"This time it is not a matter of Nerva and the others; as far as

I understand, the Emperor pays no attention to those calumnies

any more. The matter is much more serious, and the man who gave

him the information about the present accusations of your

treasonable language in Ionia is a man of no small reputation,"

went on this mind and tongue of Domitian, with subtle suggestion.

"These things are so serious that the Emperor has forgotten the

other things in his displeasure."

"I suppose the accuser you mean is someone who has won a crown at

the Olympian Games and now wants to win another for his skill incalumny," said Apollonius. "I know who he is. Euphrates has

libeled me. I am indebted to him for several kindnesses of the

sort. He even went so far as to calumniate me to the

gymnosophists of Egypt, and if I had not known about it

beforehand I might have returned without ever seeing them!"

The Sicilian agent provocateur and spy was taken aback by this

reasoning.


11/37

"What! Do you mean to say you think that was more serious than

being accused by the Emperor -- just the possibility of being

underrated by the gymnosophists?"

"Certainly I do, for I went to them to obtain knowledge, but now

I am come to impart it."

This amazing man!

"What have you come to communicate," asked the informer.

"I have come to tell the Emperor I am honest and of good repute.

He doesn't seem to know it yet!"

"I think it would be better to tell him now what you refused to

tell him before if you are alive to your own interests," said the

spy. "If you had only spoken when you had the chance, you would

not now be in chains."

The cat was out of the bag. They were once more trying to get

him to betray Nerva. The wily philosopher met thisunderhandedness in the way philosophers do, always with success.

He was just straightforward.

"Well now, you see me in chains because I told the Emperor the

truth," he said. "What do you think would be the result if I

told him the contrary?"

The spy had had enough of it. He left Apollonius alone, saying

as he went out, "This man is more than a philosopher!" He was

right, as Damis found in a day or two.

They had many conversations, Damis sad and hopeless, Apollonius

assuring him repeatedly that they would not be put to death. As

well, argue with the hangman that nothing was really going to

happen.

Damis asked, "If you are going to be set at liberty, tell me

when?"

Apollonius said, "Tomorrow, if it depended on the judge. If it

depended on me, this very minute!" So saying, he drew his leg out

of its heavy fetters and said, "You see how free I am! So cheer

up!"

THIS WAS NO VULGAR MAGIC

For the first time in all these long, long years of dailyintercourse, a great light began to dawn on Damis. For this old

man, of well nigh a century of mortal years to his present count,

was acting in a manner above the human, in a way divine. Without

any sacrifice or prayers, or saying a word, he could do what

others do not do with all the help of the gods, making a mockery

of his fetters. Then he put his leg back and continued to behave

"like a man in chains!"

Philostratus, perhaps, belonged to the same school of philosophy,


12/37

for he wrote just a little more than a century later in

collaboration with others at the wish of the Empress Julia Domna,

who was also a student. Therefore, to avoid foolishness, he

digresses to assure the reader that this was no vulgar magic, and

to warn all young people to have nothing to do with magic or

magicians, and not to make them acquainted with their practices,

even in merriment or sport. He knew the danger.

Then one day Apollonius was removed again to the larger room

where, free of his fetters, he was able to meet the other

prisoners again. They received him with joy, as children who

receive their parents in love, after fearing they would never see

him more. The Emperor in giving this concession gave out that he

would be tried in five days' time. Apollonius never ceased

advising and encouraging the prisoners, and though he knew it

might not be needed, he wrote his defense; chiefly to have it on

record what the accusations were and their refutation, it seems.

The next day, Apollonius called Damis and told him to go to

Puteoli and salute Demetrius. "Better walk instead of going by

boat," he said quietly, "you will find it the best way oftraveling. Then when you have seen Demetrius, go down to the

shore by Calypso's Isle and you will see me."

"What! Alive, or how," exclaimed Damis.

Apollonius laughed. "Alive, in my opinion, but as one raised

from the dead in yours," he said cheerfully.

So Damis went. He had learned what those quiet little asides of

the Tyanean meant, and though a three days' tramp was more

irksome than going by boat, he walked. Between hope and fear, he

went with torn emotions. Would his Master be saved? Would he be

saved? The gods alone know.

Having arrived at Puteoli, he found there had been a fearful

storm and many ships were wrecked. Then he knew why he had been

bidden to walk.

------------------------------------------------------------------

TEA-TABLE TALKS, SEPTEMBER 1891

By W.Q. Judge

[From LETTERS THAT HAVE HELPED ME, pages 154-58]

The Professor sat, cigar in hand, watching the upward curl of its

blue smoke-filament, his eyes darkened by the intensity of histhought. I knew he had just seen X, an "advanced" theosophist of

the occult wing, and I lay in wait for any information that might

percolate through upon my humble self. Presently the Professor

remarked, dreamily, and as if speaking from cloudland:

"We had many a crisis, but assuredly this was the greatest."

"To what do you refer, Professor?"


13/37

"To the departure of HPB from her physical body. It might have

been supposed, in advance, that this sudden taking-off would

result to our disadvantage. But the fact is, disasters work upon

the T. S. in inverse proportion. The greater the (apparent)

disaster, the greater the resultant good. The stronger the blow,

too, the stronger our reaction. All attacks, all so-called

exposures and losses have merely cleared away the impediments of

weak and uncertain followers. The apparent loss of our leader

did not, for one instant even, paralyze the activities of the

working staff in India, England, or America. Now, day by day, we

have evidence of growth in every direction. The Press is opening

its jealously-guarded doors. The Practical Work of the

Theosophic League has won public sympathy for us. Everywhere

there is a sudden outburst of energy and new life. X spoke of it

today."

"What had he to say of it?"

"We were talking about HPB, and he said that, so far as he

understood, she (the Adept) expended an immense amount of energy

vis viva, you know -- in holding together a body whose everymolecule tended to disruption. In effect, just think of the

cohesive force thus employed, of the immense friction in

brain-centers already worn by disease! X says they were so

impaired that senility must soon have resulted, so that it seemed

to her (?) better to let that body go to pieces as soon as a good

opportunity should occur."

"That last phrase is very suggestive."

"It is. We believe that HPB will be for some time occupied in

training a new instrument, and one not so young as to be useless

at the present cyclic crisis. He does not pretend to speak with

authority, but certain sayings of hers -- and perhaps what I

might call post-mortem facts -- bear him out. Certainly, she

left everything in order. All things were planned out, and

evidence was abundantly had to the effect that she knew her

departure was near. Moreover, X said that looking upon her as an

Adept, whose chief work was done outside of the objective body,

it was reasonable to suppose that she is now enabled to use, upon

higher (or inner) planes of being, the power previously expended

in the maintenance of that body."

"Did he think that the present theosophic increase should be

attributed to that fact?"

"Only in part. You see, he believes her attentions to be largely

engaged with the new instrument. But, from his point of view,her coadjutors and associates would naturally lend a helping hand

in her absence, especially if the Theosophical Society, as a

body, called down their help."

"What do you mean by calling down help?"

"I mean that the united impulse of a large body of truth seekers

-- more especially if they work for Humanity -- attracts the help

needed for its spiritual efforts. Imagine it as a great stream


14/37

of energy going out into space and returning freighted with all

that it had attracted to itself -- all similars -- on its

passage. That in itself would be a source of power. Again, the

increase is largely due to what HPB foresaw. Theosophists are

now able to stand alone, are all the gainers by being left to do

so. (Take the words 'alone' and 'left' in a relative sense,

please.) In the same way an infant is benefited when left to

learn to walk, even at the cost of its tumbles; it is the course

of normal, healthy growth in every department of Nature."

"All that sounds rational enough."

"My dear Sir! Nothing is more rational, more sane than Theosophy.

It is like the fairy wand that was used upon the ten billion

feathers of ten thousand different kinds; all the facts of life

fly out into well ordered heaps."

"Just fancy how the public would receive that statement!"

"The public is well described by Carlyle's estimate of

population: so many 'millions -- mostly fools.' Yet tell me whattruth, what invention, has not been rejected by their scorn. Let

us not be trite. All the truths of Theosophy, all the axioms of

occultism are, if I may so put it, the apotheosis of common

sense. When you see a lack of that -- beware! You may be sure

that their knowledge is defective, erratic, ill digested; every

psychic, every seer, every hearer to the contrary. What are

their gifts if not supplemented by an understanding of the thing

heard or seen? 'My son, get knowledge; but, above all, get

understanding.' That power to interpret must be supplied. How?"

"I cannot possibly say. Did you not ask X?"

"I did. His answer was, 'By study of the Ethics. The

Bhagavad-Gita shows the way.' In this science, he declared,

spirit and nature, or the pure and the true, or ethics and law,

are the same thing. The inner man may be looked upon as a

congeries of powers. Every power is 'the opener of the Door' to

the plane from which it springs in Nature. A power of the lower

astral, or psycho-physiological, plane opens the door to that

plane alone. It does so partly through action and interaction in

the cells and molecules of the body. It acts upon its

corresponding principle in every cell."

"Can't you enlarge upon that, Professor?"

"Suppose I were able to induce in the optic nerve that vibratory

ratio which enables it to perceive the yellow color. How do I doit? I act as Nature does. She presents a given numerical

vibration to the nerves, and forthwith they telegraph to the

brain the sense impression of yellow. Which do you call the real

thing in itself, the sense impression or the vibratory ratio? I

induce (if I can!) that same ratio in the nervous fluid and the

brain again registers yellow. Soon, if I were to continue this

action, that nerve aura of the inner man would be in synchronous

action and interaction with a whole plane of being -- call it the

lower plane of the yellow ray, and all the things of that plane


15/37

that are related to that vibration are perceived. Those parts of

specific things that are not in relation to the vibration are not

seen, and thus partial knowledge arises. It is literally true

that you see that which you are."

"I begin to understand."

"Again, note that every plane has its active and its passive

aspects; its principles; its sub-divisions and theirs. It is

only the higher plane forces that open the upper doors. What

determines this difference in power?"

"Ah! That must be the crux."

"Thought determines it. Motive determines it, for motive

determines the quality of Thought. Through motive, Thought

becomes contractive or expansive. It is well known that Thought

affects the assimilative processes of the body. It has always

been a recognized factor in therapeutics. The introduction of

the higher, more spiritualized vibrations into the secret brain

centers not only opens them to the influence of higher spheres,but also it influences the selective action of the whole sphere.

As the body exhales and inhales air, so the inner nervous body

dilates and contracts with the motion of the etheric or astral

Medium. Its vibration is quickened by the action of Thought, and

this more rapid vibration prevents the entrance of the grosser

particles of etheric substance, causing also a draught upon the

infinitely finer currents of that World Soul. In this way the

higher intelligence of every atom is opened, 'wooed from out the

bud like leaves upon the branch.' Keely gives us a hint of one

method in which this is done."

"You mean by his discovery that the production of the chord of

any given mass ruptures the molecular association of that mass

and liberates finer energies, which energies are infinitely more

dynamic?"

"Precisely so. The lesson can be carried still further. You say

he produces the chord of any given mass, a chord that represents

the vibratory total of that mass. So, too, we must use that

force that is harmonious to the plane that we desire to enter.

It is easy to talk about it, but who amongst us can do it? And

when the psychic does it fortuitously, he sees only partial

results, only that which he is fitted to see, and no more. This

is why it is so often said, 'A man must live what he knows.'

Until he has lived it, he cannot know it; he must be that higher

vibration; he himself must become that 'lost Word.' By long

training in the production of forces within himself -- forcesthat must be absolutely pure if they are to reveal the pure --

the student may approximate an understanding of what he sees.

Otherwise, psychic experiences are a great disadvantage. They

preempt thought; they detain the mind, as thorns upon the bushes

detain the sheep. This is why THE VOICE OF THE SILENCE advises

the student to flee from that 'Hall of Learning' where, under

every flower, the astral serpent coils."

"Then it is well to be able to show these things by the light of


16/37

common sense."

"Certainly, if you wish to benefit the sensible. I always go to

Nature for an explanation of occultism."

"In that case, drawing a parallel, we may say that the so-called

death of Madame Blavatsky brought the theosophic minds to a

common focus; that was, the determination to continue her work.

This unity of effort on higher lines induced a great volume of

energy, all pouring into and from a common center."

"Yes -- and results of this action are now seen in a two-fold

manner: first, the increased activity we spoke of; second, the

partial unclosing of the doors into higher planes."

"How do you infer that?"

"From what X went on to tell me. It appears that the Leaders of

the Society have made themselves objectively felt. Say, for

example, in the way of letters. It is affirmed that some such

have been received, and that their burden is 'Work.' In one, alaborer is told to 'not ask for detailed commands, for HPB has

the PATH hewed out. FOLLOW in WORK and leave us to manage

results.' Again, work is referred to thus: 'You go on with other

work in a field as wide as humanity.' The worker here referred to

had been previously working in purely ethical ways. Another

student is told, 'Be careful, then, so to act that your life

shall not hurt the Society, now having so few. * * * Make no

profession a lie. Remember your responsibility and your oath.'

The burden of all such letters is devotion to and work for the

present organization, as a duly-created center through that work

is to be done."

"It must be very encouraging to receive such letters."

"Precisely my remark to X, who gave me one of his sudden shrewd

looks and then said quickly, 'My dear boy, when a plant is

mildewed, devoured, broken, growing awry, the head gardener or

some one of his authorized assistants comes to its aid, or some

few especial plants, doing especial service in the garden, may

receive especial stimulus, such as would injure others. When a

plant is following all the natural laws of growth, it requires no

readjustment; it does not hear from the gardener, who knows it is

doing well. In the East, the Guru or Teacher is called the

Re-adjuster. He may communicate with some sub-center already

established, which sub-center is to give out the help thus

extended to those working in the same line.'"

"Then those workers who do not hear in some specific manner may

still feel that they are seen and are doing well?"

"That is what X said; also that with closer relations to The

Lodge comes also a greater, a terrible responsibility."

"It often seems to me hard to know just how to work."

"That is so. The best advice I ever found was: first, use your


17/37

predominant gifts to the best advantage; second, do not impede

your fellow in so using his, and third, follow the methods of

Nature. Find a current or a nucleus, and work in it. No matter

whether it seems perfect to you or not. Leave results to the

Law. But if no nucleus is found, become yourself a center. The

Divine will enter and work through you."

------------------------------------------------------------------

THE INDWELLING CHRIST

By John McKenzie

[From THE ARYAN PATH, October 1953, pages 440-43]

There are not two Christs, one dwelling within and the other

dwelling without. It cannot be too strongly emphasized that He

who dwells in the hearts of His faithful people is the same

Christ who has His place in history. We have the story in the

Gospels of how He lived in Palestine 1900 years ago. We have the

records of His teaching, of His works of healing, records of the

lowly service that He rendered to those who were in need, aboveall the outcasts of society. We learn how His message of

forgiveness came home to men and women sunk in sin and learn how

these same sinful people had their relationships both to God and

to their fellowmen revolutionized. Not least impressive in the

Gospel story are the contrasted ways in which people responded to

Christ's love. He drew to Himself, on the one hand, love, and

loyalty and on the other drew hatred and opposition. Hatred

seemed to have triumphed in the end when He faced the cruel and

shameful death on the Cross.

Here in a few words is the historical Jesus, the only Jesus whom

His friends and enemies knew up to the close of His earthly

ministry. Who was He? Who did men take Him to be? There were

those most deeply indebted to Him, who saw in Him the Christ, the

Son of the living God. There were those who were not predisposed

to welcome Him or His message but He drove to involuntary

expressions of wonder and admiration nevertheless. A Pharisee

said, "We know that Thou art a teacher come from God." There was

Herod, whose guilty conscience led him to imagine that Jesus was

John the Baptist returned from the dead. There was the thief on

the cross, who in his dying hour prayed Him, "Lord, remember me

when thou comest into thy kingdom." When all was over, there was

the centurion that said, "Truly, this man was the Son of God."

Against all these were those to whom religion was a complex of

traditional observances, men who loved the letter and hated the

life-giving Spirit. In Jesus, they saw the personification of

what to them was above all hateful. They would not rest untilthey had destroyed Him. "Away," they cried, "with such a fellow

from the earth."

When His enemies had achieved their end, it seemed to His

disciples to be unmitigated disaster. "We trusted," said one of

them, "that it had been he that should have redeemed Israel," but

this had proved an idle dream. His death blighted their hopes,

revived only by His later appearance to them alive. We find the

evidence for His resurrection in the New Testament, most


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impressively in the fifteenth chapter of I Corinthians, where it

is summarized in one of the earliest of the New Testament records

to take its present form.

More significant than the detailed stories is what we know to

have been the effect on the disciples of their experience of the

risen Christ. These defeated and despairing men went out, filled

with a new enthusiasm, to declare to the world what they had seen

and heard. "God," said Simon Peter, "hath made that same Jesus,

whom ye have crucified, both Lord and Christ."

All this meant a completely new relationship between themselves

and Christ. Their minds began to turn back over things that He

had said to them, things to which at the time they had given

little attention, or which they had failed altogether to

understand. These were notably the things that He had said about

His coming death and resurrection, as for example, "that he must

go unto Jerusalem, and suffer many things of the elders and chief

priests and scribes, and be killed, and be raised again the third

day." There were His sayings about what lay beyond. Among

others, He spoke about the Holy Spirit, who would dwell in them,inspiring and teaching them.

Now these anticipations, imperfectly grasped, were being

realized. Their relations with Christ had been relations between

persons, for He and they were distinct personalities. They were

bound to Him by ties of love, trust, and hope. Let us not think

of these as purely external relationships. Between ordinary

finite individuals, such relations involve an inner sympathy,

which amounts to a real interpenetration of personalities. We

cannot fail to be aware of this in contemplating the intercourse

of the disciples with their Lord during His earthly life.

With the resurrection, a real change took place. The occasional

appearances of their risen Lord were not the same as the daily

intercourse that they had with Him "in the flesh." During the

interval between the resurrection and Pentecost, they knew that

He was alive, and they experienced His presence and His grace.

They came to realize that He had a place in the divine order far

transcending what they had previously imagined. His appearances

were occasional, and their association with Him was in

consequence less continuous.

It certainly did not mean the end of their intercourse. Indeed,

it meant the beginning of a fellowship deeper and richer than

before. In the days of His flesh, Jesus, using a very bold

figure, once said, "He that eateth my flesh, and drinketh my

blood, dwelleth in me, and I in him." It was His way ofcharacterizing the closeness of their communion with Him. They

experienced this indwelling while he was still physically present

with them. They knew Him as at the same time both without and

within. When His physical presence was finally withdrawn, Christ

became for them not a more and more distant memory, but an ever

more vivid living presence, dwelling within them.

If this were a theological dissertation instead of an exposition

of one aspect of religious life, I should find it necessary to


19/37

consideration the distinction between the indwelling God, the

indwelling Spirit, and the indwelling Christ. From the religious

point of view, the distinction is not important. When Jesus

before His death spoke to His disciples of the coming of the

Spirit, He said, "He dwelleth with you and shall be in you." That

is to say, Jesus Christ dwells with them now, and He, or His

Spirit, shall be in them. Similarly, St. Paul equates the

indwelling Spirit with the indwelling Christ when he writes to

the Romans,

> Ye are not in the flesh but in the Spirit, if so be that the

> Spirit of God dwell in you. Now if any man hath not the Spirit

> of Christ, he is none of his. And if Christ be in you, the body

> is dead because of sin; but the Spirit is life because of

> righteousness.

Prof. C.H. Dodd has said regarding this virtual identification

of the experience of the indwelling Christ with that of the

Spirit, that

> It saved early Christian thought from falling into a non-moral,> half-magical conception of the supernatural in human experience,

> and it brought all spiritual experience to the test of the

> historical revelation of God in Jesus Christ.

>

> -- COMMENTARY ON THE EPISTLE TO THE ROMANS, page 124

Again, in the same connection, Professor Dodd quotes a remark of

Prof. A.E. Taylor regarding the anxiety of Marcus Aurelius lest

he might become like other Emperors who began well but ended as

tyrants:

> If Stoicism as a system is really answerable for his inability to

> rise above these fears, it is, I think, because the doctrine

> offers only a "god within," and no "God without" to whom one can

> look for grace against temptation.

>

> -- COMMENTARY ON THE EPISTLE TO THE ROMANS, page 137

In the teaching of the New Testament, there is no danger of this,

for in Jesus' own words, one of the functions of the Spirit is to

"teach you all things, and bring all things to your remembrance

whatsoever I have said unto you." The indwelling Spirit can never

be dissociated from the historical Jesus, and all spiritual

experience must be brought to the test of its congruence with

what we know of Him.

Further, when Christ really dwells in one, every part of his lifeis penetrated by His influence. St. Paul wrote to the

Galatians, "I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live; yet

not I, but Christ liveth in me." He elaborated this in writing to

the Romans, showing how they were not only crucified with Christ,

but how in baptism, they were buried with Him, and raised up in

the likeness of His resurrection to newness of life. Therefore,

he was able to say, "For me to live is Christ, and to die is

gain."


20/37

I cannot attempt to explain all that sayings such as these imply.

When anyone shares the experience that they represent, his life

undergoes a complete transformation. St. Paul expresses this in

these words, "if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature."

Something entirely new has come into being. It is not simply

that a man has changed in this or that detail, but that his whole

life is renewed. The springs of the renewal are within.

Jesus lived, taught, and worked in Galilee and Jerusalem. They

crucified Him, but He died, rose again, and is alive for

evermore. He is not only alive, but his life is such that St.

Paul makes the claim, incredible to many people, that "in him

dwelleth all the fullness of the God-head bodily." The new love

and new reserves of power that have come into being within an

individual whose life is continuously within the living presence

of Him.

When he speaks of himself as being in Christ or of Christ as

living in him, he is not using far-fetched figurative language to

describe a deep inner sympathy with one that once lived and now

is dead. He is claiming that the whole power of God is at workin his life.

Since the days of the Apostles, countless men and women have had

comparable experiences. They have known themselves to be in the

hands of One who was both infinite power and infinite love. They

have known Him as the inspiration of their best thoughts, the

director of their highest purposes, and their strength in times

of trial and temptation. The Indwelling Christ means all this

and more.

Those who have learned to know Him have learned that they have

entered on an experience that must grow and develop. If we

cannot say with the assurance of St. Paul, "For me to live is

Christ," we can at least understand what he means. We can hope

and pray that the fuller experience may yet be ours.

------------------------------------------------------------------

WRITING TO SHARE SOMETHING MORE

By Eldon B Tucker

[Based upon an Oct 16, 2003 posting [email protected].]

When we take time to write out our thoughts, it helps us clarify

them. Putting them in concrete form, we bring them into focus

and better organize them. In sharing with others, we often get

new insights.

If some writing is confused, rambling, or disorganized, it means

that the writer in still struggling to bring clarity to his or

her understanding of the subject. We all find ourselves in this

position at times.

Clear writing in fiction takes you into the story. The writing

becomes transparent as the story shines brilliantly in your

mind's eye. Excellence in writing on philosophical themes acts
http://us.f412.mail.yahoo.com/ym/[email protected]&YY=85360&order=down&sort=date&pos=0&view=a&head=bhttp://us.f412.mail.yahoo.com/ym/[email protected]&YY=85360&order=down&sort=date&pos=0&view=a&head=b


21/37

similarly. The words take you swiftly to deep places within

where you gaze upon eternal truths. High quality poetry or art

draw you into a particular emotion or state of mind powerfully,

intensely, and with passion.

Poor writing in fiction leaves you struggling to figure out what

the story is about and making an effort to keep plodding through

the book. Poor metaphysical writing leaves you puzzled over just

what the author is trying to say, if anything. Baldy written

poems do not strongly grip you, but leave you cold, wondering if

the drunken songs coming from yonder tavern have more sense and

meaning.

In all cases, words can convey brilliance, a numinous quality, a

sense of magic and wonder and majesty -- or they can leave you

cold. Just as fine music can come out of stereo speakers, or

crackles, pops, and static hiss. Both are sound, but one conveys

meaning that is absent from the other.

When writing, we are sharing something more that just the words.

How well we share depends upon how well we craft our writing.Whether the words are beneficial or harmful depends upon our

feelings, state of mind, and inner state when we sit down to

write. (That is why it is not a good idea to respond in

immediate anger to something we may see that we find offensive.)

What does this all mean on a mailing list? When writing, treat it

as an opportunity to see things clearly, like in meditation,

approaching the actual act of writing as one would work on a Zen

koan. Consider other people on the list as volunteer teachers

that grade your writing and give you immediate feedback. They

act as a sounding board to your ideas and self-expression. They

are not there as children to be educated nor sheep to be looked

over and protected from the wolves.

Look at an idea as clearly as possible. Start without words,

then taking the dive into writing, racing to capture rapidly the

elusive insight. Stop when the excitement dies down and the

words turn cold. Wrap it up, review it for obvious errors, and

then make the posting. Perhaps no one will say a word about it.

Someone may say that he or she likes what you say. Someone else

may call it total nonsense and garbage. No matter. You know

that it is good the whole time you work working on the posting.

When it goes out, there is a sense of completion and closure and

readiness for something new. You have given birth to something

that has gone out into the world, and now it is time to move on.

------------------------------------------------------------------THE ENDLESS PILGRIMAGE

By Inga Sjostedt

[From THE THEOSOPHICAL FORUM, March 1939, pages 214-19.]

As Pomona emerged from childhood, her senses became more active,

her understanding expanded, and her innate love for beauty grew

more acute. She stood looking at the setting sun one day and


22/37

saw, as it were, for the first time that great heart of the sky

beating, and its arteries of flame and gold pulsating through the

frame of the world. The beauty of it evoked a response from her

heart. She knew that she would never rest until she had found

her way to the radiance, to the fountainhead of living light.

Gaily she commenced her pilgrimage. There was a road winding its

way towards the West. With the descent of evening, it seemed to

merge with the pathway of the sun. This road Pomona took

lighthearted and with the confidence of youth. "It will surely

lead me to the portals of the Light-Giver," she thought.

She ate the berries that grew around her. When she was thirsty,

there was always a brook offering its crystalline abundance.

Sometimes when she passed by a cottage, the kindly people who

dwelt therein offered her food and drink. When night came, she

lay down in the grass and placed her head on the moss-covered

root of some tree, sleeping beneath the stars. Sometimes in the

daytime, she made wreaths of the wild flowers that nodded to her

from the roadside, crowning herself with colorful fragrance. It

was a life of perpetual delight. The world grew fairer day byday in the eyes of Pomona.

One day, when she heard the larks singing with incomparable

sweetness above her, she began to dance along the road, impelled

by the sheer joy of living. Then she saw an old man sitting

beside the road, completely exhausted. When he saw her, he

raised his head and said in a feeble voice, "Dear child, bring me

a drink of water from the stream in the copse behind me. I am so

weary that I have not the strength to rise."

Pomona, without stopping, called back to him over her shoulder as

she danced by, "Do you not see that I am dancing? I have no time

to stop. You must help yourself."

She continued to pirouette down the road. Suddenly, her heart

grew heavy and she ceased dancing. Her thoughts went back to the

old man until she dismissed him from mind with effort. Her

gaiety did not return to her that day.

She plucked some berries and wrapped them in her kerchief,

intending to eat them that evening with a cake given her at a

farm the previous day. Then another voice hailed her.

"Gentle lady, I am weak with hunger. In the name of mercy, if

you have a morsel to spare, let me have it!"

It was a little, shriveled woman, sitting forlornly beside theroad. For a moment, Pomona hesitated. Then she opened the

kerchief and poured its contents into the old woman's apron.

"It is all I have," said Pomona. "May it satisfy your hunger!"

She left the old woman eating contentedly, but that night,

although she had went without food, her mind was peaceful.

Dreams of great beauty sang to her that night.


23/37

Walking along some days later, she gazed at the setting sun, her

distant goal, with rapture. A youth came up to her.

"May I walk beside you," he asked. "It is pleasant to have

company, but irksome to walk alone. Until a man learns the

secret of solitude, his mind grows heavy with loneliness."

She agreed willingly. They found pleasure in each other's

company and in their exchange of thoughts.

For many days, they walked side by side. The youth picked

berries for her, brought her water from distant places, and

watched over her at night when the wild beasts prowled in their

vicinity. When she was sad, he told her his most intimate

thoughts. (What human being could be more generous, for thoughts

are particles of the mind that creates them?) When she was gay,

he was gay with her. Together, they rejoiced in the beauty of

the world.

One day, he said to her, "Pomona, my greatest wish is to protect

and serve you devotedly. I will accompany you to the end of yourpilgrimage."

Then she frowned, shook her head, and said lightly, "Such is not

my wish. At first, you were gay and your company gave me

pleasure, but now you are serious and I am a little weary of you.

We have come to a crossroad. You take the left turning and I the

right. If you come further with me, your devotion will claim my

freedom. Farewell!"

However much he pleaded with her, she refused to allow him to

accompany her. The last she heard was his cry, "Cruel Pomona!"

She laughed and ran away. From that moment, she saw him no more.

Days passed, then weeks and months. The years began to walk by

in a stately procession. Still the radiant sun was as distant as

ever. One day, as she leaned over a lake to quench her thirst,

she saw the image of a wrinkled face and grey hair looking at

her. She knew that old age had taken her unawares.

She walked slowly now. The joy and arrogant hope of youth had

faded. One day, she came to a bridge suspended across a wide

river and could not cross it. She knew that Death was calling

her. Death came, freed her soul from the old body, and led her

away to his palace of Dreams.

"Dream to your heart's content," he said.

When she awoke, she was again leaving childhood, learning

judgment through thought, and finding within herself a yearning,

a restless groping after something she could not name. One

morning, she saw the sun rising, glorious in his power, dividing

the measureless expanse of space with his rays, ascending the

horizon. She knew then that she must reach the sun and become

perfect in his light. Once more, she followed the road that

pointed westward and rose towards Infinity through the portals of


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the setting sun.

Thoughtfully, she looked upon the houses, the fields, and the

woods she passed by. A faint sense of recognition haunted her as

though she had seen this road before, in some dream perchance or

in some half-remembered vision beyond the precincts of a dream.

She saw a youth resting beside the road. As they looked at each

other, both knew a moment's recollection, the youth with pain and

Pomona with remorse. The moment passed and the youth said, "May

I walk beside you?"

"Yes," said Pomona. "It is pleasant to have company but irksome

to walk alone."

Together they continued to follow the road.

Many days they walked together. Pomona's heart went out to the

youth for his gentleness, his kindly speech, and his ready smile.

One day, she said to him, "Will you come with me to the portals

of the sun? I desire no other company than yours, for you havebecome dearer to me than myself."

The youth answered thoughtfully, "No, Pomona, it may not be. It

was not impossible for me to give you my devotion, but a strange

distrust, stronger than myself, prompts me to reject you.

Forgive me, but I crave a greater freedom than that of personal

dependence."

When the road divided into two directions, he went one way and

left her to the other. Then Pomona sank to the ground and cried,

"Cruel youth!"

She remained until nightfall, weak with grief and constant

weeping.

When she rose to continue her way, her weakness forced her down

again. With joy, she saw a man approaching. "Kind stranger,

have pity on me. Consumed with thirst, I am too weak to rise. I

hear a brook purling near by. Bring me a cup of water there

from, I implore you!"

The surly man answered, "I have no time with trifles. You see

that I am in haste. If water is near, you can crawl to it

unaided."

He passed on, but Pomona lay all night beside the road. She

could not sleep for thirst nor rise to obtain water from thebrook. Sorrow had rendered her weak.

When she recovered, she continued along the road. Now her face

was bitter with disappointment. Her thoughts murmured, "How have

I deserved such unhappiness?" The voice of her conscience said,

"Endure, for it is just!" Although her spirit REMEMBERED, her

body-mind remained in ignorance, for was it not a new casket

created for her spirit by life?


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One day, she sat beside the road, weary and hungry. The sun was

setting and seemed as distant and unattainable as at the

beginning of her journey.

"There is no justice in the world," she said bitterly, "nor any

human being who would care if I starved or were unhappy."

"Poor child, if you are hungry, take my food. I will surely find

more elsewhere," said a voice behind her. A little old woman

came up to her and placed a bundle on her lap, and walked on.

When Pomona opened the bundle, she saw food and drink there.

Sending a grateful thought to the old woman, she ate. She not

only appeased her hunger, but also regained her lost faith in

human sympathy from the kindness of the stranger.

One day, she came to a wide river. Across the river was a

bridge. She was weary she was, weary with years now. Life had

not neglected to reap its seasons in the days of harvest. With a

great effort, she set her foot on the bridge, and thus, slowly,

crossed over to the other side. There she sank down and watched

the sun setting.

"How near you seem, and yet how distant," she murmured. In that

instant, Death came and raised her up gently.

"You have come a little nearer this time," he said. "Some day

you will reach the Golden Portals. Now you are too tired. Come

and dream in my palace. You will find new strength there for the

pilgrimage of tomorrow!"

Obediently, she followed him.

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OUR CONSCIOUSNESS OF GOD

By S. Vahiduddin

[From THE ARYAN PATH, April 1953, pages 156-60.]

The consciousness of God as a fact and a phenomenon has an

interest of its own. It is independent of the question of God's

existence. As many have found their way from the consciousness

of freedom and responsibility to freedom itself, so we may also

lead ourselves from the consciousness of Deity unto Deity Itself.

That is another question. The consciousness as a datum cannot be

denied. Our purpose is confined to a phenomenological

description of what that consciousness is. It is not a

psychological description. Psychologically, we may be interestedin knowing the mental factors at work, their genesis, and the

laws that govern them. That is already an interpretation and an

interpretation is not our object. We want to make the

consciousness retrospective, to make it speak for itself.

The consciousness of God has one disadvantage. Unlike the

consciousness of freedom, its universality may be challenged.

There have cropped up now and then in history religious outlooks

without the notion of God and personal immortality. It may also


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be questioned whether God and immortality are so indissolubly

linked together that the one leads to the other. Impressed by

the testimony of history, earnest thinkers have been forced to

affirm that God and immortality are not pivotal to the religious

consciousness. Schleiermacher has affirmed in unmistakable

mistakable terms that God does not constitute an essential

element in the religious consciousness. Paradoxical as it might

seem in a Christian thinker like Schleiermacher, in his famous

DISCOURCES, he has identified religion with a feeling and a

vision of the universe. The consciousness of God is only one

among many possible forms of religious consciousness.

Though it is hardly possible to agree with Schleiermacher in his

characterization of religion, it may be that primitive religion

only refers to the beyond without distinct consciousness of God.

God in our consciousness invests with moral attributes, more or

less pronounced. Shorn of moral moments, religion is the

irrational and the numinous of which Rudolf Otto speaks.

Religion, then, does not exhaust itself in morality and an

ambiguous attitude in relation to God is not ruled out by

history.

Who knows whether the great teacher who developed a full-fledged

religion without God had not a consciousness of God in such

fullness that silence was the only medium through which it could

be conveyed? Or that God, in his phenomenality as an object of

worship and prayer, was ignored as Ishvara and creator, while

Brahman remained too lofty for words? Even the strong conviction

of God that Goethe's Faust entertains does not pour itself forth

in words. Rejection and affirmation become equally presumptuous.

Perhaps the idea of something above the distinctions of being and

non-being is lurking in the thought of Buddhism. Oldenberg has

no doubt that the idea of Nirvana has grown out of speculation

about Brahman. Buddhist thought brings us before a mystery that

is an abyss for the reason.

However that may be, our purpose is to show how God is present in

our experience. William James has subjected the sense of

presence to an interesting analysis. His remarks deserve

attention, not only as the considered views of an influential

thinker, but also as representative of an age. James assumes a

primitive sense of presence that if worked upon forms the basis

of our apprehension of the real. Pierre Janet has shown how in

pathological cases the sense of the real fails and the world

appears dreamy and unsubstantial. No doubt in moments of great

emotional crisis our hold on the real gives way. Whitehead cites

the murmur of William Pitt, English Prime Minister, on his

deathbed at a dark hour in the Napoleonic Wars. "What shades weare, what shadows we pursue!"

This is a human reaction of ontological and axiological import.

The aims that we have faithfully sought all our life seem

divested of all value. The apprehension of us as shades is the

awareness of our insubstantiality. It is apprehension of the

shadow that we pursue. It is the consciousness of the valueless

emptiness of our pursuits. The strife of life does not become

ignoble. That would still be something. All the hurly-burly of


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life becomes only "sound and fury, signifying nothing."

Turgeniev's SMOKE illustrates such a moment of emotional crisis.

The world, the gay life of society, and the heat of political

controversy suddenly appear as vapor and smoke.

One cannot ignore the sense of the presence of God, regardless of

its ultimate foundation. It sometimes takes curious forms. The

person feels himself pursued by someone and frequently looks

back. He may feel his double following him at every stop. The

writer of a document quoted by James expresses himself thus:

> I think it well to add that in this ecstasy of mine, God had

> neither form, color, odor, nor taste; moreover, that the feeling

> of his presence was accompanied with no determinate localization.

> It was rather as if my personality had been transformed by the

> presence of a spiritual spirit.

James seems to suggest that our consciousness of God is of like

nature. Nothing can be further from the truth. We never become

conscious of God in his substantiality, to use traditional

language, but effectively in feeling, experience, andideationally as the reference of thought. The consciousness of

God is different from the consciousness of a thing or a person.

The religious experience is not to be distinguished by the

non-religious only in the effects that it produces, in the joy or

shudder that is its outcome. No wonder James, with his

predilection for finite gods and higher selves, came to

misunderstand the nature of the consciousness of God. It becomes

for him like our consciousness of a departed soul. He asserts

that many possess the objects of their belief in the form, not of

mere conceptions accepted by the intellect as true, but rather of

"quasi-sensible realities directly apprehended."

Now we maintain that the consciousness of God is wholly other.

The writer of the very document cited above corrects himself

immediately and gives a more faithful expression of what he felt.

He adds:

> The more I seek words to express this intimate intercourse, the

> more I feel the impossibility of describing the thing by any of

> our visual images. At bottom, the expression most apt to render

> what I felt is this: God was present, though invisible; He fell

> under no one of my senses, yet my consciousness perceived.

How then is God really experienced? If we look at the experience

cursorily, we are struck by the personal character of God. It is

not our concern to show how far personality can be attributed to

God. We only quest to become conscious of Him. He is neverpresent as a finite being, engaged in a struggle that we only

hope that He will win and with whom we cast in our lot. The

consciousness of God knows no risk, be it in the pragmatic, the

Kantian, or the Existentialist sense. It knows no "either --

or."

The way we become conscious of God as a person in our prayer and

communion may not be considered elevating for fastidious

speculation. Fichte has vigorously condemned it. The way God


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appears in consciousness betrays the man and his spirit. On

different levels of spiritual development, the consciousness of

God appears differently. If God is taken as the object of love,

He is understood as the Idea of personality in its fullness. If

the Deity is taken as other than personality, It can only be more

in this otherness, not less. God may appear as solace, hope, and

a wall against which our efforts avail not. "I have known God in

the frustration of my aims," remarked Hazrat Ali.

God may well appear in our consciousness as super-personal, as a

direction or an aim that is always elusive. God is then

experienced in self-transcendence. K. Jaspers seems to move on

this plane. God is found in the frustration of all our thought

and action. Even when we are conscious of God negatively, as

"neti, neti," even in that negation something positive hides. We

somehow divine what we are aiming at. Even in religions with a

highly developed personal consciousness of God, the references to

his super-personal character are legion. God is experienced as

"beyond, beyond all beyond, and still beyond."

The communion with God of the creative religious genius, of thesaint, and the rishi may be very different. Without

understanding what they are, we can only divine their

experiences. At certain rare moments in life, a common man also

LIVES God uncommonly. Such moments bring conversion, deciding

the future course of his life. Pierre, the hero of Tolstoy's WAR

AND PEACE, experiences the sudden awakening of the consciousness

of God.

> Suddenly in his captivity he had learnt, not by words or

> reasoning but by direct feeling, what his nurse had told him long

> ago: that God is here and everywhere . . . And the closer he

> looked, the more tranquil and happy he became. That dreadful

> question, "What for," which had formerly destroyed all his mental

> edifices, no longer existed for him. To that question, "What

> for," a simple answer was now always ready in his soul: "Because

> there is a God, that God without whose will not one hair falls

> from a man's head."

We need not even go to experiences of such a rare order. As love

remains for many but a dream and longing, so these experiences

too evade the light of everyday reality. Our purpose is well

served if we can bring to light the consciousness of God as a

phenomenon of everyday significance.

Sometimes God reveals Himself in conditions in which one would

least expect Him. In perverse moments, in moments of sin and

degradation, one may feel the sudden nearness of God. God mayreveal himself in an awareness of our alienation from the Divine

Order. Many practices of certain religious sects and individuals

have their root in such morbidity. What is more natural and

salutary is to feel God not when we are wallowing in sin, but

rather in repentance. The feeling of degradation is the feeling

of value that has unfortunately not found fulfillment in our

life.

Many are the ways and the forms in which we become conscious of


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God. We may feel the presence of God in all that we do, feel, or

think. Religion will assume a corresponding form. If God is

experienced as activity and urge, a religion of action is born

and a life of duty becomes the goal. Religion then becomes a

mission and a crusade. If God is lived as the affective

atmosphere, religion takes on an aesthetic character and man is

lost in contemplation of everlasting Beauty. If God is lived as

a constant reference of thought, religion takes the form of

knowledge; it seems to be God's knowledge that makes possible the

knowledge of things around us.

It is interesting to observe down the ages, in a single

historical religion, the shifting of accent from one to another

of these, the tension of opposites making for the vigor and

health of a great religion. The contrast between the vita activa

and the vita contemplativa of Martha and Mary is an abiding

contrast. Our consciousness of the Divine is also rich in

contrasts. Now one and now another moment become salient.

Whether we live God as the breath of our life, as the Light that

flickers at a distance, or as the frustration of our action and

the despair of our thought, God steals into the heart in a wayall Its own.

------------------------------------------------------------------

WITHHOLDING THE SHADOW OF A DOUBT

By James Sterling

Withholding the shadow of a doubt

Leaving the splendor of a shiny sun

To illuminate the darkest recess of the mind;

Leaving wisdom as its only domain.

Left behind are boyish ways;

A man strides steadily ahead,

Leaving sad illusions behind;

Lost in a maze of forgotten days.

The lost eye, the golden eye of Atlantis,

Is ready to emerge from its dormant place

Beneath the frigid waves, frozen in time,

And pulsating with renewed life.

Set the stage for an evolving play;

Dedicating harmony only to the right,

Never the left; leaving black stones unturned.

Darkness only reinforces the light.

There is a quest for those possessing the wisdom,

Patient in learning and careful to understand;

They leave the initiated with intuition to plot

Carefully. Boyhood traumas have all but melted

Away, leaving the man to emerge and take his

Place in the future that lies in the secret of

His shining stars.

------------------------------------------------------------------


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SILENT WATCHERS AND THE HIERARCHY OF COMPASSION, Part I

By G. de Purucker

[From THE HIERARCHY OF COMPASSION, pages 3-15.]

The Hierarchy of Compassion is a Cosmic Hierarchy divisible into

almost innumerable Minor Hierarchies. It runs down the scale of

the Ladder of Cosmic Being from the Supreme Hierarch of our Solar

System through all intermediate stages, infilling every planet of

the Solar System until finally its representatives on this our

present physical plane are found on the Globes of the different

Planetary Chains.

It is composed of Divinities, Demigods, Buddhas, Bodhisattvas,

and great Men of varying degrees of individual splendor, serving

as a living channel for the spiritual currents coming to every

planet of our system from the Heart of the Solar Divinity. These

beings shed glory, light, and peace upon that pathway from the

compassionate deeps of their own being.

Little do men know, even those belonging to our Order, of the

immense love and divine impulse of compassion that sways the

Souls of those who form this Hierarchy of Light. They made the

Great Renunciation, giving up hope of personal evolutionary

progress. This may be for eons to come. They remain at their

appointed tasks in service to the world. Unrecognized,

unthanked, ever silent, ever compassionate,

Autores Varios - Revista Theosophy World 2004

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