Theosophy - Invisible Helpers by C.W.Leadbeater
INVISIBLE
HELPERS
by C W Leadbeater
American Revised Edition 1915
CHAPTER
-1-
The Universal Belief in Them
It
is one of the most beautiful characteristics of Theosophy that
it gives back to people in a more rational form everything
which was really
useful and helpful to them in the religions which they have
outgrown. Many who have broken through the chrysalis of blind
faith, and mounted
on the wings of reason and intuition to the freer, nobler mental
life of more exalted levels, nevertheless feel that in the
process of this glorious gain a something has been lost - that
in giving up the beliefs of their childhood they have also
cast aside much of the beauty and the poetry of life.
If,
however, their lives in the past have been sufficiently good
to earn for them the opportunity of coming under the benign
influence of
Theosophy, they very soon discover that even in this particular
there has been no loss at all, but an exceeding great
gain - that the glory and the beauty and the poetry are there in fuller
measure than they had ever hoped before, and no longer
as a mere pleasant
dream from which the cold light of common-sense may at any
time rudely awaken them, but as truths of nature which will
bear investigation - which become only brighter, fuller and more perfect as they are more
accurately understood.
A marked
instance of this beneficent action of Theosophy is the way
in which the invisible world (which, before the great wave
of materialism engulfed us, used to be regarded as the source of
all living
help)
has been restored by it to modern life. All the charming folk-lore
of the elf, the brownie and the gnome, of the spirits of air
and water, of the forest, the mountain and the mine, is shown
by it to
be no more meaningless superstition, but to have a basis of
actual and scientific fact behind it. Its answer to the great
fundamental question “If a man die, shall he live again?” is equally definite and scientific, and its teaching on the nature
and conditions of the life after death throws a flood of light
upon much that, for the Western world at least, was previously
wrapped in impenetrable darkness.
It cannot
be too often repeated that in this teaching as to the immortality
of the soul and the life after death, Theosophy stands in a
position totally different from that of ordinary religion.
It does not put
forward these great truths merely on the authority of some
sacred book of long ago; in speaking of these subjects it is
not dealing
with pious opinions , or metaphysical speculations, but with
solid, definite facts, as real and as close to us as the air
we breathe or the houses we live in - facts of which many among us have constant experience - facts among
which lies the daily work of some of our students, as will presently
be seen.
Among
the beautiful conceptions which Theosophy has restored
to us stands pre-eminent that of the great helpful agencies
of nature. The belief
in these has been world-wide from the earliest dawn
of history,
and is universal even now outside the narrow domains
of Protestantism, which has emptied and darkened the world
for its votaries by
its
attempt to do away with the natural and perfectly true
idea of intermediate agents, and reduce everything to two factors
of man
and deity - a device whereby the conception of deity
has been infinitely degraded, and man has remained unhelped.
A
moment’s
thought will show that the ordinary view of providence - the
conception of an erratic interference by the central power
of the universe with the result of his own decrees - would imply the introduction of partiality into the scheme, and therefore
of the whole train of evils which must necessarily follow upon
its heels. The Theosophical teaching, that a man can be thus
specially helped only when his past actions have been such
as to deserve
this
assistance, and that even then the help will be given through
those who are comparatively near his own level, is free from
this serious
objection; and it furthermore brings back to us the older and
far grander conception of an unbroken ladder of living beings
extending down from the Logos Himself to the very dust beneath
our feet.
In the
East the existence of the invisible helpers has always
been recognized, though the names given and the characteristics
attributed to them
naturally vary in different countries; and even in
Europe we
have had the old Greek stories of the constant interference
of the gods
in human affairs, and the Roman legend that Castor
and Pollux led the legions of the infant republic in the battle
of Lake Regillus.
Nor did such a conception die out when the classical
period ended,
for these stories have their legitimate successors
in medieval tales of saints who appeared at critical moments
and turned the fortune of war in favour of the Christian hosts, or
of guardian angels who sometimes stepped in and saved a pious
traveler
from what
would
otherwise have been certain destruction.
CHAPTER
II
Some
Modern Instances
EVEN
in this incredulous age, and amidst the full whirl of our nineteenth-century
civilization, in spite of the dogmatism of our science and
the deadly dullness of our Protestantism, instances of intervention
inexplicable
from the materialistic standpoint may still be found by anyone
who will take the trouble to look for them; and in order to demonstrate
this to the reader I will briefly epitomize a few of the examples
given in one or other of the recent collections of such stories,
adding thereto one or two that have come within my own notice.
One
very remarkable feature of these more recent examples is that
the intervention seems nearly always to have been directed towards
the
helping or saving of children.
An interesting
case which occurred in London only a few years ago was connected
with the preservation of a child's life in the midst of a
terrible fire, which broke out in a street near Holborn, and entirely
destroyed two of the houses there.
The flames had obtained such hold before they were discovered
that the
firemen were unable to save the houses, but they succeeded
in rescuing all the inmates except two - an old woman who was
suffocated by the smoke before they could reach her, and a
child about five years old, whose presence in the
house had been forgotten in the hurry and excitement of
the moment.
The
mother of the child, it seems, was a friend or relative of
the landlady of the house, and had left the little creature in her
charge for
the night, because she was herself obliged to go down to Colchester
on business. It was not until everyone else had been rescued,
and the whole house was wrapped in flame, that the landlady remembered
with a terrible pang the trust that had been confided to her.
It
seemed hopeless then to attempt to get at the garret where
the child had been put to bed, but one of the firemen heroically
resolved to
make the desperate effort, and, after receiving minute directions
as to the exact situation of the room, plunged in among the
smoke and flame.
He found
the child, and brought him forth entirely unharmed; but when
he rejoined his comrades he had a very singular story to tell.
He declared that
when he reached the room he found it in flames, and most of
the floor already fallen; but the fire had curved round the
room towards the
window in an unnatural and unaccountable manner, the like of
which in all his experience he had never seen before, so that
the corner
in which the child lay was wholly untouched, although the very
rafters of the fragment of floor on which his little crib stood
were half
burnt away. The child was naturally very much terrified, but
the fireman distinctly and repeatedly declared that as at great
risk he made his way towards him he saw a form like an
angel - here his exact words are given - something “all gloriously white and silvery, bending over the bed and smoothing
down the counterpane.” He could not possibly have been mistaken about it, he said, for it
was visible in a glare of light for some moments, and in fact
disappeared only when he was within a few feet of it.
Another
curious feature of this story is that the child's
mother found herself unable to sleep that night down in Colchester,
but was constantly harassed by a strong feeling that
something was wrong with her child, insomuch that at
last she was compelled
to
rise and spend some time in earnest prayer that the
little one might be protected from the danger which
she instinctively felt
to be hanging
over him. The intervention was thus evidently what
a Christian would call an answer to a prayer; a Theosophist,
putting the same
idea
in more scientific phraseology, would say that her
intense outpouring of love constituted a force which
one of our visible helpers
was
able to use for the rescue of her child from a
terrible death.
A remarkable
case in which children were abnormally protected occurred on
the banks of the Thames near Maidenhead a few years earlier than
our
last example. This time the danger from which they were saved
arose not from fire but from water. Three little ones, who lived,
if I
recollect rightly, in or near the village of Shottesbrook,
were taken out for a walk along the towing-path by their nurse. They
rushed
suddenly round a corner upon a horse which was drawing a barge,
and in the confusion two of them got on the wrong side of the tow-rope
and were thrown into the water.
The
boatman, who saw the accident, sprang forward to try to save
them, and he noticed that they were floating high in the
water “in quite an unnatural way, like,” as he said, and moving quietly towards the bank. This was all that
he and the nurse saw, but the children each declared that “a beautiful person, all white and shining,” stood beside them in the water, held them up and guided them to the
shore. Nor was their story without corroboration, for the
bargeman's little daughter, who ran up from the cabin when
she heard the screams of the nurse, also affirmed that she saw a
lovely lady in the
water dragging the two children to the bank.
Without
fuller particulars than the story gives us, it is impossible
to say with certainty from what class of helpers this “angel” was drawn; but the probabilities are in favour of its having been
a developed human being functioning in the astral body, as
will be seen when later on we deal with this subject from the
other side,
as it were - from the point of view of the helpers rather than the helped.
A case
in which the agency is somewhat more definitely distinguishable
is related by the well-known clergyman, Dr John Mason Neale. He states
that a man who had recently lost his wife was on a visit with
his
little children at the country house of a friend. It was an
old, rambling mansion, and in the lower part of it there were long,
dark
passages, in which the children played about with great delight.
But presently they came upstairs very gravely, and two of them
related that as they were running down one of these passages they
were met
by their mother, who told them to go back again, and then disappeared.
Investigation revealed the fact that if the children had run
but a few steps farther they would have fallen down a deep uncovered
well which yawned full in their path, so that the apparition
of their
mother had saved them from almost certain death.
In this
instance there seems no reason to doubt that the mother
herself was still keeping a loving watch over her children
from the astral
plane,
and that (as has happened in some other cases) her
intense desire to warn them of the danger into which they were
so heedlessly
rushing
gave her the power to make herself visible and audible
to them for the moment - or perhaps merely to impress their minds with the idea that they
saw and heard her. It is possible, of course, that the
helper may have been someone else, who took the familiar form
of the mother
in order
not to alarm the children; but the simplest hypothesis
is to attribute the intervention to the action of the ever-wakeful
mother-love
itself,
undimmed by the passage through the gates of death.
This
mother-love, being one of the holiest and most unselfish of
human feelings, is also one of the most persistent on higher
planes. Not
only does the mother who finds herself upon the lower levels
of the astral plane, and consequently still within touch of
the earth, maintain
her interest in and her care for her children as long as she
is able to see them; even after her entry into the heaven-world
these little
ones are still the most prominent objects in her thought, and
the wealth of love that she lavishes upon the images which
she there makes of them is a great outpouring of spiritual force
which
flows
down upon her offspring who are still struggling in this lower
world, and surrounds them with living centres of beneficent
energy which
may not inaptly be described as veritable guardian angels.
An illustration of this will be found in the sixth of our Theosophical
manuals, page
38.
Not
long ago the little daughter of one of our English bishops
was out walking with her mother in the town where they lived,
and in running
heedlessly across a street the child was knocked down by the
horses of a carriage which came quickly upon her round a corner.
Seeing
her among the horses’ feet, the mother rushed forward, expecting to find her very badly
injured, but she sprang up quite merrily, saying, “Oh, mamma, I am not at all hurt, for something all in white kept the
horses from treading upon me, and told me not to be afraid.”
A case
which occurred in Buckinghamshire, somewhere in the neighborhood
of Burnham Beeches, is remarkable on account of the length
of time through which the physical manifestation of the succouring
agency
seems to have maintained itself. It will have been seen that
in the instances hitherto given the intervention was a matter of
but a few
moments, whereas in this a phenomenon was produced which appears
to have persisted for more than half an hour.
Two
of the little children of a small farmer were left
to amuse themselves while their parents and their entire household
were engaged
in the
work of harvesting. The little ones started for a walk
in the woods, wandered far from home, and then managed to lose their
way.
When
the weary parents returned at dusk it was discovered
that the children were missing, and after enquiring at some of the
neighbours’ houses the father sent servants and labourers in various directions
to seek for them.
Their
efforts were, however, unsuccessful, and their shouts unanswered;
and they had reassembled at the farm in a somewhat despondent
frame of mind, when they all saw a curious light some distance away
moving
slowly across some fields towards the road. It was described
as a large globular mass of rich golden glow, quite unlike ordinary
lamplight;
and as it drew nearer it was seen that the two missing children
were walking steadily along in the midst of it. The father and some
others
immediately set off running towards it; the appearance persisted
until they were close to it, but just as they grasped the children
it vanished, leaving them in the darkness.
The
children's story was that after night came on they
had wandered about crying in the woods for some time, and had at
last lain down
under a tree to sleep. They had been roused, they said,
by a beautiful lady with
a lamp, who took them by the hand and led them home;
when they
questioned her she smiled at them, but never spoke
a word. To this strange tale
they both steadily adhered, nor was it possible in
any way to shake their faith in what they had seen.
It is noteworthy, however,
that
though all present saw the light, and noticed that
it lit up the trees and hedges which came within its
sphere precisely as an
ordinary
light would, yet the form of the lady was visible to
none but the children.
CHAPTER
III
A Personal
Experience
ALL
the above stories are comparatively well known, and may be
found in some of the books which contain collections of
such accounts - most of them in Dr Lee’s More Glimpses of the World Unseen; but the two instances which I am now about to give have never been
in print before, and both occurred within the last ten
years - one to myself, and the other to a very dear friend of mine, a prominent
member of the Theosophical Society, whose accuracy of observation
is beyond all shadow of doubt.
My own
story is a simple one enough, though not unimportant to me,
since the interposition undoubtedly saved my life. I was walking
one exceedingly
wet and stormy night down a quiet back street near Westbourne
Grove, struggling with scant success to hold up an umbrella against
the
savage gusts of wind that threatened every moment to tear it
from my grasp, and trying as I laboured along to think out the details
of some work upon which I was just then engaged.
With
startling suddenness a voice which I know well - the voice of an Indian teacher - cried in my ear “Spring back!” and in mechanical obedience I started violently backwards almost before
I had time to think. As I did so my umbrella, which had swung
forward with the sudden movement, was struck from my hand and
a huge metal
chimney pot crashed upon the pavement less than a yard in front
of my face. The great weight of this article, and the tremendous
force
with which it fell, make it absolutely certain that but for
the warning voice I should have been killed on the spot; yet
the street was empty,
and the voice was that of one whom I knew to be seven thousand
miles away from me, as far as the physical body was concerned.
Nor
was this the only occasion upon which I received assistance
of this supernormal kind, for in early life, long before the foundation
of
the Theosophical Society, the apparition of a dear one who
had recently died prevented me from committing what I now see would
have been
a serious crime, although by the light of such knowledge as
I then had it appeared not only a justifiable but even a laudable
act of
retaliation. Again, at a later date, though still before the
foundation of this Society, a warning conveyed to me from a higher
plane amid
most impressive surroundings enabled me to prevent another
man from entering upon a course which I now know would have ended
disastrously,
though I had no reason to suppose so at the time. So it will
be seen that I have a certain amount of personal experience to strengthen
my belief in the doctrine of invisible helpers, even apart
from my
knowledge of the help that is constantly being given at the
present time.
The
other case is a very much more striking one. One of our members,
who gives me permission to publish her story, but does not
wish her name mentioned, once found herself in very serious physical
peril.
Owing to circumstances which need not be detailed here, she
was in the very centre of a dangerous street fracas, and seeing several
men struck down and evidently badly hurt close to her, was
in momentary
expectation of a similar fate, since escape from the crush
seemed quite impossible.
Suddenly
she experienced a curious sensation of being whirled out of
the crowd, and found herself standing quite uninjured and entirely
alone in
a small bye-street parallel with the one in which the disturbance
had taken place. She still heard the noise of the struggle,
and while she stood wondering what on earth had happened to her,
two or three
men who had escaped from the crowd came running round the corner
of the street, and on seeing her expressed great astonishment
and pleasure, saying that when the brave lady so suddenly disappeared
from the midst of the fight they had felt certain that she
had been
struck down.
At the
time no sort of explanation was forthcoming, and she returned
home in a very mystified condition; but when at a later period she
mentioned
this strange occurrence to Madame Blavatsky she was informed
that, her karma being such as to enable her to be saved from her
exceedingly
dangerous position, one of the Masters had specially sent some
one to protect her in view of the fact that her life was needed for
the
work.
Nevertheless
the case remains a very extraordinary one, both with regard
to the great amount of power exercised and the unusually public nature
of
its manifestation. It is not difficult to imagine the modus operandi; she must have been lifted bodily over the intervening block of houses,
and simply set down in the next street; but since her physical
body was not visible floating in the air, it is also evident that
a veil
of some sort (probably of etheric matter) must have been thrown
round her while in transit.
If it
be objected that whatever can hide physical matter must itself
be physical, and therefore visible, it may be replied that by a process
familiar to all occult students it is possible to bend rays
of light
(which, under all conditions at present known to science, travel
only in straight lines unless refracted) so that after passing
round an object they may resume exactly their former course; and
it will
at once be seen that if this were done such an object would
to all physical eyes be absolutely invisible until the rays were
allowed
to resume their normal course. I am fully aware that this one
statement alone is sufficient to brand any remarks as nonsense in
the eyes
of the scientist of the present day, but I cannot help that;
I am merely stating a possibility in nature which the science of
the future
will no doubt one day discover, and for those who are not students
of occultism the remark must wait until then for its justification.
The
process, as I say, is comprehensible enough to anyone who understands
a little about the more occult forces of nature; but the phenomenon
still remains an exceedingly dramatic one, while the name of
the heroine of the story, were I permitted to give it, would be a
guarantee
of its accuracy to all my readers.
Another
recent instance of interposition, less striking, perhaps, but
entirely successful, has been reported to me since the publication
of the
first edition of this book. A lady, being obliged
to undertake a long railway journey alone, had taken the precaution
to secure an empty compartment; but just as the train was leaving
the station, a man of forbidding and villainous appearance
sprang in and seated himself at the other end of the carriage. The
lady
was much alarmed, thus to be left alone with so doubtful a
character, but it was too late to call for help, so she sat still
and commended
herself earnestly to the care of her patron saint.
Soon
her fears were redoubled, for the man arose and turned
toward her with an evil grin, but he had hardly taken one step
when he started
back with a look of the most intense astonishment and
terror. Following
the direction of his glance, she was startled to see
a gentleman seated directly opposite to her, gazing quietly
but firmly at the baffled robber - a gentleman who certainly could not have entered the carriage by
any ordinary means. Too much awed to speak, she watched
him as though fascinated for a full half-hour; he uttered
no word, and did
not
even look at her, but kept his eyes steadily upon the
villain, who cowered trembling in the furthest corner
of the compartment. The
moment that the train reached the next station, and
even before
it came to a standstill, the would-be thief tore open
the door and sprang
hurriedly out. The lady, deeply thankful to be rid
of him, turned to express her gratitude to the gentleman,
but found only
an empty
seat, though it would have been impossible for any
physical body to have left the carriage in the time.
The
materialization was in this case maintained for a longer
period than usual, but on the other hand it expended no force
in action
of any
kind - nor indeed was it necessary that it should do so, as its mere appearance
was sufficient to effect its purpose.
But
these stories, all referring as they do to what would commonly
be called angelic intervention, illustrate only one small part of
the
activities of our invisible helpers. Before, however, we can
profitably consider the other departments of their work it will be
well that
we should have clearly in our minds the various classes of
entities to which it is possible that these helpers may belong. Let
that,
then, be the portion of our subject to be next treated.
CHAPTER
IV
The
Helpers
HELP,
then, may be given by several of the many classes of
inhabitants of the astral plane. It may come from devas, from
nature-spirits, or from those whom we call dead, as well as
from those
who
function consciously upon the astral plane during
life - chiefly the adepts and their pupils. But if we examine the matter
a little more closely we shall see that though all the
classes mentioned may, and sometimes do, take a part in this
work, yet their
shares
in it are so unequal that it is practically left almost
entirely to one class.
The
very fact that so much of this work of helping has to be done
either upon or from the astral plane goes far in itself towards explaining
this. To anyone who has even a faint idea of what the powers
at the
command of an adept really are, it will be at once obvious
that for him to work upon the astral plane would be a far greater
waste of
energy than for our leading physicians or scientists to spend
their time in breaking stones upon the road.
The
work of the adept lies in higher regions - chiefly upon the arûpa levels of the devachanic plane or heaven-world, where he may direct
his energies to the influencing of the true individuality of
man, and not the mere personality which is all that can be
reached in
the astral or physical world. The strength which he puts forth
in that more exalted realm produces results greater, more far-reaching
and more lasting than any which can be attained by the expenditure
of even ten times the force down here; and the work up there
is such
as he alone can fully accomplish, while that on lower planes
may be at any rate to some extent achieved by whose feet are
yet upon
the earlier steps of the great stairway which will one day
lead them to the position where he stands.
The
same remarks apply also in the case of the devas. Belonging
as they do to a higher kingdom of nature than ours, their work
seems for
the most part entirely unconnected with humanity; and even
those of their orders - and there are some such - which do sometimes respond to our higher yearnings or appeals, do
so on the mental plane rather than on the physical or astral,
and more frequently in the periods between our incarnations
than during our
earthly lives.
It may
be remembered that some instances of such help were observed
in the course of investigations into the subdivisions of the devachanic
plane which were undertaken when the Theosophical manual on
the subject
was in preparation. In one case a deva was found teaching the
most wonderful celestial music to a chorister; and in another one
of a
different class was giving instruction and guidance to an astronomer
who was seeking to comprehend the form and structure of
the universe.
These
two were but examples of many instances in which the great
deva kingdom was found to he helping onward the evolution and responding
to the
higher aspirations of man after death; and there are methods
by which, even during earth-life, these great ones may be approached,
and an
infinity of knowledge acquired from them, though even then
such intercourse is gained rather by rising to their plane than by
invoking them to
descend to ours.
In the
ordinary events of our physical life the deva very
rarely interferes - indeed, he is so fully occupied with the far grander work of his
own plane that he is probably scarcely conscious of this;
and though it may occasionally happen that he becomes aware
of some human
sorrow or difficulty which excites his pity and moves
him to endeavour to
help in some way, his wider vision undoubtedly recognizes
that at the present stage of evolution such interpositions
would in the
vast
majority of cases be productive of infinitely more
harm than good.
There
was indubitably a period in the past - in the infancy of the human race - when it was much more largely assisted from outside than is at present
the case. At the time when all its Buddhas and Manus, and even
its more ordinary leaders and teachers, were drawn either from
the ranks
of the deva evolution or from the perfected humanity of a more
advanced planet, any such assistance as we are considering
in this treatise
must also have been given by these exalted beings. But as man
progresses he becomes himself qualified to act as a helper,
first on the physical
plane and then on higher levels; and we have now reached a
stage at which humanity ought to be able to provide, and to
some slight
extent does provide, invisible helpers for itself, thus setting
free for still more useful and elevated work those beings who
are capable
of it.
It becomes
obvious then that such assistance as that to which
we are here referring may most fitly be given by men and women
at a particular
stage of
their evolution; not by the adepts, since they are
capable of doing far grander and more widely useful work, and
not by the
ordinary
person of no special spiritual development, for he
would be unable to be of any use. Just as these considerations
would lead
us to expect,
we find that this work of helping on the astral and
lower mental planes is chiefly in the hands of the pupils of
the Masters - men who, though yet far from the attainment of adeptship, have evolved
themselves to the extent of being able to function
consciously upon the planes in question.
Some
of these have taken the further step of completing the links
between the physical consciousness and that of the higher levels,
and they
therefore have the undoubted advantage of recollecting in waking
life what they have done and what they have learnt in those
other worlds; but there are my others who, though as yet unable to
carry
their consciousness through unbroken, are nevertheless by no
means wasting the hours when they think they are asleep, but spending
them
in noble and unselfish labour for their fellow-men.
What
this labour is we will proceed to consider, but before we enter
upon that part of the subject we will refer to an objection which
is very
frequently brought forward with regard to such work, and we
will also dispose of the comparatively rare cases in which the agents
are either nature-spirits or men who have cast off the physical
body.
People
whose grasp of Theosophical ideas is as yet imperfect are often
in doubt as to whether it is allowable for them to try to help
some one whom they find in sorrow or difficulty, lest they should
interfere
with the fate which has been decreed for him by the absolute
justice of the eternal law of karma. “The man is in his present position,” they say in effect, “because he has deserved it; he is now working out the perfectly natural
result of some evil which he has committed in the past; what
right have I to interfere with the action of the great cosmic
law by trying
to ameliorate his condition, either on the astral plane or
the physical.
Now
the good people who make such suggestions are really, however
unconsciously to themselves, exhibiting the most colossal conceit,
for their position
implies two astounding assumptions; first, that they know exactly
what another man’s karma has been, and how long it has decreed that his sufferings shall
last; and secondly, that they - the insects of a day - could absolutely override the cosmic law and prevent the due working-out
of karma by any action of theirs. We may be well assured that
the great kârmic deities are perfectly well able to manage their business without
our assistance, and we need have no fear that any steps we
may take can by any possibility cause them the slightest difficulty
or uneasiness.
If a
man’s karma is such that he cannot be helped, then all our well-meant efforts
in that direction will fail, though we shall nevertheless have
gained good karma for ourselves by making them. What the man’s karma has been is no business of ours; our duty is to give help to
the utmost of our power, and our right is only to the act;
the result is in other and higher hands. How can we tell how a man’s account stands? For all we know he may just have exhausted his evil
karma, and be at this moment at the very point where a helping
hand is needed to give relief and raise him out of his trouble
or depression;
why should not we have the pleasure and privilege of doing
that good deed as well as another? If we can help him, then that fact of itself shows that he has deserved to be
helped; but we can never know unless we try. In any case the
law of karma will take care of itself, and we need not trouble ourselves
about it.
The
cases in which assistance is given to mankind by nature-spirits
are few. The majority of such creatures shun the haunts
of man, and retire
before him, disliking his emanations and the perpetual
bustle and unrest which he creates all around him. Also, except
some of
their
higher orders, they are generally inconsequent and
thoughtless - more like happy children at play under exceedingly favourable physical
conditions than like grave and responsible entities.
Still it sometimes happens that one of them will become attached
to a human
being, and
do him many a good turn; but at the present stage of
its evolution this department of nature cannot be relied upon
for anything
like steady co-operation in the work of invisible helpers.
For a fuller
account of the nature-spirits the reader is referred
to the fifth of our Theosophical manuals.
Again,
help is sometimes given by those recently departed - those who are still lingering on the astral plane, and still in close
touch with earthly affairs, as (probably) in the above-mentioned
case of the mother who saved her children from falling
down a well. But it will readily be seen that the amount
of such help
available
must naturally be exceedingly limited. The more unselfish
and helpful a person is, the less likely is he to be
found after death
lingering
in full consciousness on the lower levels of the astral
plane, from which the earth is most readily accessible.
In any case, unless
he
were an exceptionally bad man, his stay within the
realm whence alone any interference would be possible
would be comparatively short;
and although from the heaven-world he may still shed
benign influence
upon those whom he has loved on earth, it will usually
be rather of the nature of a general benediction than
a force capable of bringing about definite results
in a specific case,
such as those
which we
have been considering.
Again,
many of the departed who wish to help those whom they left
behind, find themselves quite unable to influence them in any
way, since
to work from one plane upon an entity on another requires either
very great sensitiveness on the part of that entity, or a certain
amount of knowledge and skill on the part of the operator.
Therefore, although instances of apparitions shortly after
death are by no means
uncommon, it is rare to find one in which the departed person
has really done anything useful, or succeeded in impressing
what he wished
upon the friend or relation whom he visited. There are such
cases, of course - a good many of them when we come to put them all together; but they
are not numerous compared to the great number of ghosts who
have succeeded in showing themselves. So that but little help
is usually
given by the dead - indeed, as will presently be explained, it is far more common for
them to be themselves in need of assistance than to be able to accord
it to others.
At present,
therefore, the main bulk of the work which has to be done along
these lines falls to the share of those living persons who are able
to
function consciously on the astral plane
CHAPTER
V
The
Reality of Superphysical Life
IT seems
difficult for those who are accustomed only to the
ordinary and somewhat materialistic lines of thought of the
nineteenth century,
to believe
in and realize fully a condition of perfect consciousness
apart from the physical body. Every Christian, at any rate,
is bound by
the
very foundations of his creed to believe that he possesses
a soul; but if you suggest to him the possibility that
that soul may be a
sufficiently real thing to become visible under certain
conditions apart from the body either during life or after
death, the
chances are ten to one that he will scornfully tell
you that he does not
believe in ghosts, and that such an idea is nothing
but an anachronistic survival of an exploded medieval
superstition.
If,
therefore, we are at all to comprehend the work of
the band of invisible helpers, and perchance ourselves to learn
to assist
in it, we must
shake ourselves free from the trammels of contemporary
thought on these subjects, and endeavour to grasp the great
truth (now a
demonstrated
fact to many among us) that the physical body is in
simple truth nothing but a vehicle or vesture of the real man.
It is put
off permanently
at death, but it is also put off temporarily every
night when we go to sleep - indeed the process of falling asleep consists in this very action
of the real man in his astral vehicle slipping out of
the physical body.
Again
I repeat, this is no mere hypothesis or ingenious supposition.
There are many among us who are able to perform (and do perform every day of their lives) this elementary act of magic in
full consciousness - who pass from one plane to the other at will; and if that is clearly
realized, it will become apparent how grotesquely absurd to
them must appear the ordinary unreasoning assertion that such
a thing is utterly impossible. It is like telling a man that
it is impossible
for him to fall asleep, and that if he thinks he has ever done
so he is under a hallucination.
Now
the man who has not yet developed the link between the astral
and physical consciousness is unable to leave his denser body at
will,
or to recollect most of what happens to him while away from
it; but the fact nevertheless remains that he leaves it every time
he sleeps,
and may be seen by any trained clairvoyant either hovering
over it or wandering about at a greater or less distance from it,
as the
case may be.
The
entirely undeveloped person usually floats close above his
physical body, scarcely less asleep than it is, and comparatively
shapeless
and inchoate, and it is found that he cannot be drawn away
from the immediate neighbourhood of that physical body without causing
serious
discomfort which would in fact awaken it. As the man evolves,
however, his astral body grows more definite and more conscious,
and so becomes
a fitter vehicle for him. In the case of the majority of intelligent
and cultured people the degree of consciousness is already
very considerable, and a man who is at all spiritually developed
is as fully himself
in that vehicle as in this denser body.
But
though he may be fully conscious on the astral plane during
sleep, and able to move about on it freely if he wishes to
do so, it does
not yet follow that he is ready to join the band of helpers.
Most people at this stage are so wrapped up in their own train
of thought - usually a continuation of some line taken up in waking hours - that they are like a man in a brown study, so much absorbed as to
be practically entirely heedless of all that is going on about
them. And in many ways it is well that this is so, for there
is much upon
the astral plane which might be unnerving and terrifying to
one who had not the courage born of full knowledge as to the
real nature
of all that he would see.
Sometimes
a man gradually rouses himself out of this condition - wakes
up to the astral world around him, as it were; but more often he
remains in that state until someone who is already active
there takes him in hand and wakens him. This is, however, not
a responsibility to be lightly undertaken, for while it is
comparatively easy
thus
to wake a man up on the astral plane, it is practically impossible,
except by a most undesirable exercise of mesmeric influence,
to put him to sleep again. So that before a member of the band
of workers
will thus awaken a dreamer, he must fully satisfy himself that
the man’s disposition is such that he will make good use of the additional
powers that will then be put into his hands, and also that
his knowledge and his courage are sufficient to make it reasonably
certain that
no harm will come to him as a result of the action.
Such
awakening so performed will put a man in a position to join
if he will the band of those who help mankind. But it must
be clearly understood
that this does not necessarily or even usually bring with it
the power of remembering in the waking consciousness anything
which has
been done. That capacity has to be attained by the man for
himself, and in most cases it does not come for years afterwards - perhaps not even in the same life. But happily this lack of memory
in the body in no way impedes the work out of the body; so
that, except for the satisfaction to a man of knowing during
his waking
hours upon what work he has been engaged during his sleep,
it is not a matter of importance. What really matters is that
the work
should be done - not that we should remember who did it.
CHAPTER
VI
A Timely
Intervention
VARIED
as is this work on the astral plane, it is all directed
to one great end - the furtherance, in however humble a degree, of the processes of
evolution. Occasionally it is connected with the development of
the lower kingdoms, which it is possible slightly to accelerate
under certain conditions.
A duty towards these lower kingdoms, elemental as well
as animal and vegetable, is distinctly recognized by our adept
leaders, since
it is in some cases only through connection with or
use by man that their progress takes place.
But
naturally by far the largest and most important part of the
work is connected with humanity in some way or other. The services
rendered
are of many and various kinds, but chiefly concerned with
man’s spiritual development, such physical interventions as are recounted
in the earlier part of this book being exceedingly rare. They
do, however, occasionally take place, and though it is my wish
to emphasize
rather the possibility of extending mental and moral help to
our fellow-men, it will perhaps be well to give two or three
instances in which friends personally known to me have rendered physical
assistance
to those in sore need of it, in order that it may be seen how
these examples from the experience of the helpers gear in with
the
accounts
given by those who have received the supernormal aid - such stories, I mean, as those which are to be found in the literature
of so-called “supernatural occurrences.”
In the
course of the recent rebellion in Matabeleland one
of our members was sent upon an errand of mercy which may serve as
an illustration
of the way in which help upon this lower plane has
occasionally been given. It seems that one night a certain farmer
and his family in
that country were sleeping tranquilly in fancied security,
quite unaware that only a few miles away relentless hordes of savage
foes
were lying in ambush maturing fiendish plots of murder
and rapine. Our member’s business was in some way or other to arouse the sleeping family to
a sense of the terrible danger which so unexpectedly
menaced them, and she found this by no means an easy matter.
An attempt
to impress the idea of imminent peril upon the brain of the
farmer failed utterly, and as the urgency of the case seemed to demand
strong
measures, our friend decided to materialize herself sufficiently
to shake the housewife by the shoulder and adjure her to get
up and look about her. The moment she saw that she had been successful
in
attracting attention she vanished, and the farmer’s wife has never from that day to this been able to find out which of her neighbours it was who roused her so opportunely, and thus saved
the lives of the entire family, who but for this mysterious intervention
would undoubtedly have been massacred in their beds half an hour
later; nor can she even now understand how this friend in need contrived
to make her way in, when all the windows and doors were found so
securely barred.
Being
this abruptly awakened, the housewife was half inclined to consider
the warning a mere dream; however, she arose and looked around just
to see that all was right, and fortunate it was that she did so,
for though she found nothing amiss indoors she had no sooner thrown
open a shutter than she saw the sky red with a distant conflagration.
She at once roused her husband and the rest of the family, and owing
to this timely notice they were able to escape to a place of concealment
near at hand just before the arrival of the horde of savages, who
destroyed the house and ravaged the fields indeed, but were disappointed
of the human prey which they had expected. The feelings of the rescuer
may be imagined when she read in the newspaper some time afterwards
an account of the providential deliverance of this family.
CHAPTER
VII
The “Angel
Story.”
ANOTHER
instance of intervention on the physical plane which
occurred a short time ago makes a very beautiful little story, though
this time only
one life was saved. It needs, however, a few words
of preliminary explanation. Among our band of helpers here in Europe
are two who
were brothers long ago in ancient Egypt, and are still
warmly attached to one another. In this present incarnation there
is a wide difference
in age between them, one being advanced in middle life,
while the other was at that time a mere child in the physical body,
though
an ego of considerable advancement and promise. Naturally
it falls to the lot of the elder to train and guide the younger in
the occult
work to which they are so heartily devoted, and as
both are fully conscious and active on the astral plane they spend
most of the time
during which their grosser bodies are asleep in labouring
together under the direction of their common Master, and giving to
both living
and dead such help as is within their power.
I will
quote the story of the particular incident which I wish to relate
from a letter written by the elder of the two helpers immediately
after it occurrence, as the description there given is more vivid
and picturesque than any account in the third person could possibly
be.
“We
were going about quite other business, when Cyril suddenly cried, ‘What’s that?’ for we heard a terrible scream of pain or fright. In a moment we were
on the spot, and found that a boy of about eleven or twelve had fallen
over a cliff on to some rocks below, and was very badly hurt. He
had broken a leg and an arm, poor fellow, but what was still worse
was a dreadful cut in the thigh, from which blood was pouring in
a torrent. Cyril cried, ‘Let us help him quick, or he’ll die!’
“In
emergencies of this kind one has to think quickly. There were
clearly two things to be done; that bleeding must be stopped, and
physical
help must be procured. I was obliged to materialize either
Cyril or myself, for we wanted physical hands at once to tie a bandage,
and besides it seemed better that the poor boy should see someone standing by him in his trouble. I felt that while undoubtedly
he would be more at home with Cyril than with me, I should probably
be more readily able to procure help than Cyril would, so the division
of labour was obvious.
“The
plan worked capitally. I materialized Cyril instantly (he does not
know yet how to do it for himself), and told him to take the boy’s neckerchief and tie it round the thigh, and twist a stick through
it. ‘Won’t it hurt him terribly? said Cyril; but he did it, and the blood stopped flowing. The injured boy seemed half unconscious,
and could scarcely speak, but he looked up at the shining little
form bending so anxiously over him, and asked, ‘Be you an angel, master?’ Cyril smiled so prettily, and replied, ‘No, I’m only a boy, but I’ve come to help you;’ and then I left him to comfort the sufferer while I rushed off to
the boy’s mother, who lived about a mile away.
“The
trouble I had to force into that woman's head the conviction
that something was wrong, and that she must go and see about it,
you would never believe; but at last she threw
down the pan she was cleaning, and said aloud, ‘Well, I don’t know what’s come over me, but I must go and find the boy.’ When she once started I was able to guide her without much difficulty,
though at the time I was holding Cyril together by will-power,
lest the poor child's angel should suddenly vanish from before his
eyes.
“You
see, when you materialize a form you are changing matter from
its natural state into another - temporarily opposing the cosmic will, as it were; and if you take
your mind off it for one half-second, back it flies into its original
condition like a flash of lightning. So I could not give more
than half my attention to that woman, but still I got her along
somehow, and as soon as she came round the corner of the cliff
I let
Cyril
disappear; but she had seen him, and now that village has one
of the best-attested stories of angelic intervention on
record!
“The
accident happened in the early morning, and the same evening I looked
in (astrally) upon the family to see how matters were going on. The
poor boy’s leg and arm had been set, and the great cut bandaged, and he lay
in bed looking very pale and weak, but evidently going to recover
in time. The mother had a couple of neighbours in, and was
telling them the story; and a curious tale it sounded to one who
knew the
real facts.
“She
explained, in very many words, how she couldn’t tell what it was, but something came over her all in a minute like,
making her feel something had happened to the boy, and she must go out and see after him; how at first she thought it was nonsense,
and tried to throw off the feeling, ‘but it warn’t no use - she just had to go.’ She told how she didn’t know what made her go round by that cliff more than any other way,
but it just happened so, and as she turned round the corner
there she saw him lying propped up against a rock, and kneeling
beside him was the ‘beautifullest child ever she saw, dressed all in white and shining,
with rosy cheeks and lovely brown eyes;’ and how he smiled at her ‘so heavenly like,’ and then all in a moment he was not there, and at first she was so
startled she didn’t know what to think; and then all at once she felt what it was, and
fell on her knees and thanked God for sending one of his angels
to help her poor boy.
“Then
she told how when she lifted him to carry him home she wanted
to take off the handkerchief that was cutting into his poor leg so,
but he would not let her, because he said the angel had tied
it and
said he was not to touch it; and how when she told the doctor
this afterwards he explained to her that if she had unfastened it the boy would certainly have died.
“Then
she repeated the boy’s part of the tale - how the moment after he fell this lovely little angel came to him
(he knew it was an angel because he knew there had been nobody in sight for half a
mile round when he was at the top of the cliff just before - only he could not understand why it hadn’t any wings, and why it said it was only a boy) - how it lifted him against the rock and tied up his leg, and then
began to talk to him and tell him he need not be frightened, because
somebody was gone to fetch mother, and she would be there directly;
how it
kissed him and tried to make him comfortable, and how its soft,
warm, little hand held his all the time, while it told him
strange, beautiful
stories which he could not clearly remember, but he knew they
were very good, because he had almost forgotten he was hurt
until he saw
his mother coming; and how then it assured him he would soon
be well again, and smiled and squeezed his hand, and then somehow
it was
gone.
“Since
then there has been quite a religious revival in that village!
Their minister has told them that so signal an interposition
of divine providence must have been meant as a sign to them, to rebuke
scoffers
and to prove the truth of holy scripture and of the Christian
religion - and nobody seems to see the colossal conceit involved in such an
astonishing proposition.
“But
the effect on the boy had been undoubtedly good, morally as well
as physically; by all accounts he was a careless enough young scamp
before, but now he feels ‘his angel’ may be near him at any time, and he will never do or say anything
rough or coarse or angry, lest it should see or hear. The one
great desire of his life is that some day he may see it again, and
he knows
that when he dies its lovely face will be the first to greet
him on the other side.”
A beautiful
and pathetic little story, truly. The moral dawn from the occurrence
by the village and its minister is perhaps somewhat of a non sequitur; yet the testimony to the existence of at least something beyond this
material plane must surely do the people more good than harm,
and after all the mother’s conclusion from what she saw was a perfectly correct one, though
more accurate knowledge would probably have led her to express
it a little differently.
An interesting
fact afterwards discovered by the investigations of the writer
of the letter throws a curious side-light upon the reasons
underlying such incidents. It was found that the two boys had
met before,
and
that some thousands of years ago the one who fell from the
cliff had been the slave of the other, and had once saved his
young master’s life at the risk of his own, and had been liberated in consequence;
and now, long afterwards, the master not only repays the debt
in kind, but also gives his former slave a high ideal and an
inducement to morality of life which will probably change the whole
course
of
his future evolution. So true is it that no good deed ever
goes unrewarded by karma, however tardy it may seem in its
action - that
Though
the mills of God grind slowly
Yet they grind exceeding small;
Though with patience stands
He waiting
With exactness grinds He all.
CHAPTER
VIII
The
Story of a Fire
ANOTHER
piece of work done by the same boy Cyril furnishes an almost exact
parallel to some of the stories from the books which I have given
in earlier pages. He and his older friend, it seems, were passing
along in the prosecution of their usual work one night, when they
noticed the fierce glare of a big fire below them, and promptly dived
down to see if they could be of any use.
It was
a great hotel which was in flames, a huge caravanserai on the edge
of a great lake. The house, many stories in height, formed three
sides of a square round a sort of garden, planted with trees and
flowers, while the lake formed the fourth side. The two wings ran
right down to the lake, the big bay windows which terminated them
almost projecting over the water, so as to leave only quite a narrow
passage-way under them at the two sides.
The
front and wings were built round inside wells, which contained
also the lattice-work shafts of the lifts, so that when once
the fire
broke out, it spread with almost incredible rapidity, and before
our friends saw it on their astral journey all the middle floors
in each of the three great blocks were in flames. Fortunately
the inmates - except one little boy - had already been rescued,
though some of them had sustained very serious burns and
other injuries.
This
little fellow had been forgotten in one of the upper rooms of the
left wing, for his parents were out at a ball, and knew nothing of
the fire, while naturally enough no one else thought of the lad till
it was far too late. The fire had gained such a hold on the middle
floors of that wing that nothing could have been done, even if anyone
had remembered him, as his room faced on to the inner garden which
has been mentioned, so that he was completely cut off from all outside
help. Besides, he was not even aware of his danger, for the dense,
suffocating smoke had so gradually filled the room that his sleep
had grown deeper and deeper, till he was all but stupefied.
In this
state he was discovered by Cyril, who seems to be specially attracted
towards children in need or danger. He first tried to make some of
the people remember the boy, but in vain; and in any case it seemed
scarcely possible that they could have helped him, so that it was
soon evident that this was merely a waste of time. The older helper
then materialized, Cyril, as before, in the room, and set him to
work to awaken and rouse up the more than half-stupefied child. After
a good deal of difficulty this was accomplished to some extent, but
the boy remained in a half-dazed, semi-conscious condition through
all that followed, so that he needed to be pushed and pulled about,
guided and helped at every turn.
The
two boys first crept out of the room into the central passage which
ran through the wing, and then, finding that the smoke and the flames
beginning to come through the floor made it impassable for a physical
body, Cyril got the other boy back into the room again and out of
the window on to a stone ledge, about a foot wide, which ran right
along the block just below the windows. Along this he managed to
guide his companion, half balancing himself on the extreme edge of
the ledge, and half floating on air, but always placing himself outside
of the other, so as to keep him from dizziness and prevent him from
feeling afraid of a fall.
Towards
the end of the block nearest the lake, in which direction the fire
seemed less developed, they climbed in through an open window and
again reached the passage, hoping to find the staircase at that end
still passable. But it, too, was full of flame and smoke; so they
crawled back along the passage, Cyril advising his companion to keep
his mouth close to the ground, till they reached the latticed cage
of the lift running down the long well in the centre of the block.
The
lift of course was at the bottom, but they managed to clamber down
the lattice work inside the cage till they stood on the roof of the
elevator itself. Here they found themselves blocked, but luckily
Cyril discovered a doorway opening from the cage of the lift on to
a sort of entresol just above the ground floor. Through this they reached a passage,
which they crossed, the little boy being half-stifled by the smoke;
then they made their way through one of the rooms opposite, and finally,
clambering out of the window, found themselves on the top of the
veranda which ran along in front of the ground floor, between it
and the garden.
There
it was easy enough to swarm down one of the pillars and reach the
garden itself; but even there the heat was intense, and the danger,
when the walls should fall, very considerable. So Cyril tried to
conduct his charge round the end first of one, then of the other
wing; but in both cases the flames had burst through, and the narrow,
overhung passages were quite impassable. Finally they took refuge
in one of the pleasure boats which were moored to the steps of the
quay at the side of the garden next the lake, and, casting loose,
rowed out on to the water.
Cyril
intended to row round past the burning wing and land the boy
whom he had saved; but when they got some little way out, they
fell in
with a passing lake steamer, and were seen - for the whole
scene was lit up by the glare of the burning hotel, till everything
was as plain as in broad daylight. The steamer came
alongside the boat to take them off; but instead of the two
boys they had seen,
the crew found only one - for his older friend had promptly
allowed Cyril to slip back into his astral form, dissipating the
denser matter which had made for
the time a material body, and he was therefore now invisible.
A careful
search was made, of course, but no trace of the second boy could
be found, and so it was concluded that he must have fallen overboard
and been drowned just as they came alongside. The child who had been
rescued fell into a dead faint as soon as he was safe on board, so
they could get no information from him, and when he did recover,
all he could say was that he had seen the other boy the moment before
they came alongside, and then knew nothing more.
The
steamer was bound down the lake to a place some two
days’ sail distant, and it was a week or so before the rescued boy could
be restored to his parents, who of course thought that
he had perished in the flames, for though an effort was made to impress
on their
minds the fact that their son had been saved, it was
found impossible to convey the idea to them, so it may be imagined
how great was the
joy of the meeting.
The
boy is still well and happy, and is never weary of relating
his wonderful adventure. Many a time he has regretted that
the kind friend who
saved him should have perished so mysteriously at the very
moment when all the danger seemed over at last. Indeed, he
has even ventured
to suggest that perhaps he didn’t perish after all - that perhaps he was a fairy prince; but of course this idea elicits
nothing but tolerant smiles of superiority from his elders.
The kârmic link between him and his preserver has not yet been traced, but
no doubt there must be one somewhere.
CHAPTER
IX
Materialization
and Repercussion
ON meeting
with a story such as this, students often enquire whether the
invisible helper is perfectly safe amidst these scenes of deadly
peril - whether, for example, this boy who was materialized in order to
save another from a burning house was not himself in some
danger - whether his physical body would not have suffered in any way by repercussion
if his materialized form had passed through the flames, or
fallen from the high ledge on the edge of which he walked so
unconcernedly. In fact, since we know that in many cases the
connection between
a materialized form and a physical body is sufficiently close
to
produce repercussion, might it not have occurred in this case?
Now
this subject of repercussion is an exceedingly abstruse and difficult
one, and we are by no means yet in a position fully to explain its
very remarkable phenomena; in order to understand the matter perfectly,
it would probably be necessary to comprehend the laws of sympathetic
vibration on more planes than one. Still, we do know by observation
some of the conditions which permit its action, and some which definitely
exclude it, and I think we are warranted in saying that it was absolutely
impossible here.
To see
why this is so we must first remember that there are at least three
well-defined varieties of materialization, as anyone who has at all
an extended experience of spiritualism will be aware. I am not concerned
at the moment to enter upon any explanation as to how these three
varieties are respectively produced, but am merely stating the indubitable
fact of their existence.
1. There
is the materialization which, though tangible, is not visible
to ordinary physical sight. Of this nature are the unseen
hands which so often clasp one’s arm or stroke one’s face at a séance, which sometimes carry physical objects through the air or make raps
upon the table - though of course both these latter phenomena
may easily be produced without a materialized hand at all.
2. There
is the materialization which though visible is not tangible
- the spirit-form through which one’s hand passed as through empty air. In some cases this variety is obviously
misty and impalpable, but in others its appearance is so entirely
normal that its solidity is never doubted until some one endeavours
to grasp it.
3. There
is the perfect materialization which is both visible
and tangible - which not only bears the outward semblance of your departed friend
but shakes you cordially by the hand with the very
clasp that you know so well.
Now
while there is a good deal of evidence to show that repercussion
takes place under certain conditions in the case of this third kind
of materialization., it is by no means so certain that it can occur
with the first or second class. In the case of the boy-helper it
is probable that the materialization would not be of the third type,
since the greatest care is always taken not to expend more force
than is absolutely necessary to produce whatever result may be required,
and it is obvious that less energy would be used in the production
of the more partial forms which we have called the first and second
classes. The probability is that only the arm with which the boy
held his little companion would be solid to the touch, and that the
rest of his body, though looking perfectly natural, would have proved
far less palpable if it had been tested.
But,
apart from this probability, there is another point to be considered.
When a full materialization takes place, whether the subject
be living or dead, physical matter of some sort has to be gathered
together
for the purpose. At a spiritualistic séance this matter is obtained by drawing largely upon the etheric double
of the medium - and sometimes even upon his physical body also, since cases are on
record in which his weight has been very considerably decreased
while manifestations of this character were taking place.
This
method is employed by the directing entities of the séance simply because when an available medium is within reach it is very
much the easiest way in which a materialization can be brought
about; and the consequence is that the very closest connection
is thus set
up between that medium and the materialized body, so that the
phenomenon which (although very imperfectly understanding it)
we call repercussion,
occurs in its clearest form. If, for example, the hands of
the materialized body be rubbed with chalk, that chalk will
afterwards be found on
the hands of the medium, even though he may have been all the
time carefully locked up in a cabinet under circumstances which
absolutely preclude any suspicion of fraud. If any injury
be inflicted upon
the materialized form, that injury will be accurately reproduced
upon the corresponding part of the medium’s body: while sometimes food of which the spirit-form has partaken
will be found to have passed into the body of the medium - at least that happened in one case at any rate within my own experience.
It would
be far otherwise, however, in the case which we have been describing.
Cyril was thousands of miles from his sleeping physical body,
and it would therefore be quite impossible for his friend to
draw etheric
matter from it, while the regulations under which all pupils
of the great Masters of Wisdom perform their work of helping
man would assuredly
prevent him, even for the noblest purpose, from putting such
a strain upon any one else’s body. Besides, it would be quite unnecessary, for the far less dangerous
method invariably employed by the helpers when materialization
seems desirable would be ready to his hand - the condensation from the circumambient ether, or even from the physical
air, of such an amount of matter as may be requisite. This
feat, though no doubt beyond the power of the average entity
manifesting at a séance, presents no difficulty to a student of occult chemistry.
But
mark the difference in the result obtained. In the case of the medium
we have a materialized form in the closest possible connection with
the physical body, made out of its very substance, and therefore
capable of producing all the phenomena of repercussion. In the case
of the helper we have indeed an exact reproduction of the physical
body, but it is created by a mental effort out of matter entirely
foreign to that body, and is no more capable of acting upon it by
repercussion than an ordinary marble statue of the man would be.
Thus
it is that a passage through the flames or a fall from a high
window-ledge would have had no terrors for the boy-helper, and that
on another
occasion a member of the band, though materialized, was able
without any inconvenience to the physical body to go down in a sinking
vessel
(see page 77).
In both
the incidents of his work that have been described above, it
will have been noticed that the boy Cyril was unable to materialize
himself,
and that the operation had to be performed for him by an older
friend. One more of his experiences is worth relating, for
it gives us a
case in which by intensity of pity and determination of
will he was able to show himself - a case somewhat parallel to that previously
related of the mother whose love enabled her somehow to manifest
herself in order to save
her children's lives.
Inexplicable
as it may seem, there is no doubt whatever of the existence in nature
of this stupendous power of will over matter of all planes, so that
if only the power be great enough, practically any result may be produced by its direct action, without any knowledge
or even thought on the part of the man exercising that will as to how it is to do its work. We have had plenty of evidence that this power
holds good in the case of materialization, although ordinarily it
is an art which must be learnt just like any other. Assuredly an
average man on the astral plane could no more materialize himself
without having previously learnt how to do it than the average man
on this plane could play the violin without having previously learnt
it; but there are exceptional cases, as will be seen from the following
narrative.
CHAPTER
X
The
Two Brothers
This
story has been told by a pen of far greater dramatic capability than
mine, and with a wealth of detail for which I have here no space,
in The Theosophical Review of November, 1897, page 229. To that account I would refer the reader,
since my own description of the case will be a mere outline,
as brief as is consistent with clearness. The names given are of
course fictitious,
but the incidents are related with scrupulous accuracy.
Our dramatis
personae are two brothers, the sons of a country gentleman - Lancelot, aged fourteen, and Walter, aged eleven - very good boys of the ordinary healthy, manly type, like hundreds
of others in this fair realm, with no obvious psychic
qualifications of any sort, except the possession of
a good deal of Celtic blood.
Perhaps the most remarkable feature about them was
the intensity of the affection that existed between
them, for they were simply
inseparable - neither would go anywhere without the other, and the younger idolized
the elder as only a younger boy can.
One
unlucky day Lancelot was thrown from his pony and killed, and
for Walter the world became empty. The child's grief was
so real and terrible that he could neither eat not sleep, and his
mother and nurse were at their wits’ end as to what to do for him. He seemed deaf alike to persuasion and
blame; when they told him that grief was wicked, and that his
brother was in heaven, he simply answered that he could not be certain
of
that, and that even if it were true, he knew that Lancelot
could no more be happy in heaven without him than he could on earth
without
Lancelot.
Incredible
as it may sound, the poor child was actually dying of grief, and
what made the case even more pathetic was the fact that, all unknown
to him, his brother stood at his side all the time, fully conscious
of his misery, and himself half-distracted at the failure of his
repeated attempts to touch him or speak to him.
Affairs
were still in this most pitiable condition on the third evening
after the accident, when Cyril’s attention was drawn to the two brothers - he cannot tell how. “He just happened to be passing,” he says; yet surely the will of the Lords of Compassion guided him
to the scene. Poor Walter lay exhausted yet sleepless - alone in his desolation, so far as he knew, though all the time his
sorrowing brother stood beside him. Lancelot, free from the
chains of the flesh, could see and hear Cyril, so obviously
the first thing
to do was to soothe his pain with a promise of friendship and
help in communicating with his brother.
As soon
as the dead boy’s mind was thus cheered with hope, Cyril turned to the living one,
and tried with all his strength to impress upon his brain the knowledge
that his brother stood beside him, not dead, but living and loving
as of yore. But all his efforts were in vain; the dull apathy of
grief so filled poor Walter’s mind that no suggestion from without could enter, and Cyril knew
not what to do. Yet so deeply was he moved by the sad sight,
so intense was his sympathy and so firm his determination to help
in some way
or other at any cost of strength to himself, that somehow (even
to this day he cannot tell how) he found himself able to touch and
speak
to the heart-broken child.
Putting
aside Walter’s questions as to who he was and how he came there, he went straight
to the point, telling him that his brother stood beside him, trying
hard to make him hear his constantly repeated assurances that he
was not dead, but living and yearning to help and comfort him. Little
Walter longed to believe, yet hardly dared to hope; but Cyril’s eager insistence vanquished his doubts at last, and he said, “Oh! I do believe you, because you’re so kind; but if I could only see him, then I should know, then I should be quite sure; and if I could only hear his voice telling
me he was happy, I shouldn’t mind a bit his going away again afterwards.”
Young
though he was at the work, Cyril knew enough to be aware that
Walter’s wish was one not ordinarily granted, and was beginning regretfully
to tell him so, when suddenly he felt a Presence that all the
helpers know, and though no word was spoken it was borne in
upon his mind
that instead of what he had meant to say, he was to promise
Walter the boon his heart desired. “Wait till I come back,” he said, “and you shall see him then.” And then - he vanished.
That
one touch from the Master had shown him what to do and how
to do it, and he rushed to fetch the older friend who had so often
helped
him before. This older man had not yet retired for the night,
but on hearing Cyril’s hurried summons, he lost no time in accompanying him, and in a few
minutes they were back at Walter’s bedside. The poor child was just beginning to believe it all a lovely
dream, and his delight and relief when Cyril reappeared were
beautiful to see. Yet how much more beautiful was the scene a moment
later,
when, in obedience to a word from the Master, the elder man
materialized the eager Lancelot, and the living and the dead stood
hand in hand
once more!
Now
in very truth for both the brothers had sorrow been
turned into joy unspeakable, and again and again they both declared
that now they
should never feel sad any more, because they knew that
death had no power to part them. Nor was their gladness damped even
when Cyril
explained carefully to them, at his older friend’s suggestion, that this strange physical reunion would not be repeated,
but that all day long Lancelot would be near Walter,
even though the latter could not see him, and every night Walter
would slip out
of his body and be consciously with his brother once
more.
Hearing
this, poor weary Walter sank to sleep at once and proved its truth,
and was amazed to find with what hitherto unknown rapidity he and
his brother could fly together from one to another of their old familiar
haunts. Cyril thoughtfully warned him that he would probably forget
most of his freer life when he awoke next day; but by rare good fortune
he did not forget, as so many of us do. Perhaps the shock of the great joy had
somewhat aroused the latent psychic faculty which belongs to the
Celtic blood; at any rate he forgot no single detail of all that
had happened, and next morning he burst upon the house of mourning
with a wondrous tale which suited it but ill.
His
parents thought that grief had turned his brain, and, since
he is now the heir, they have been watching long and anxiously
for further
symptoms of insanity, which happily they have not found. They
still think him a monomaniac on this point, though they fully
recognize that his “delusion” has saved his life; but his old nurse (who is a Catholic) is firm
in her belief that all he says is true - that the Lord Jesus,
who was once a child himself, took pity on that other child as he
lay dying of grief, and sent one of His angels
to bring his brother back to him from the dead as a reward
for a love which was stronger than death. Sometimes popular
superstition gets a good deal nearer to the heart of things
than does educated
skepticism!
Nor
does the story end here, for the good work begun that night
is still progressing, and none can say how far the influence
of that one act
may ramify. Walter’s astral consciousness, once having been thus thoroughly awakened,
remains in activity; every morning he brings back into his
physical brain the memory of his night’s adventures with his brother; every night they meet their dear friend
Cyril, from whom they have learned so much about the wonderful
new world that has opened before them, and the other worlds
to come that
lie higher yet. Under Cyril’s guidance they also - the living and the dead alike - have become eager and earnest members
of the band of helpers; and probably for years to come - until Lancelot’s vigorous young astral body disintegrates - many a dying child will have cause to be grateful to these three
who are trying to pass on to others something of the joy that they
have themselves received.
Nor
is it to the dead alone that these new converts have
been of use, for they have sought and found some other living
children who show
consciousness on the astral plane during sleep; and
one at least of those whom they have thus brought to Cyril
has already proved
a valuable little recruit to the children's band, as
well as a very kind little friend down here on the physical plane.
Those
to whom all these ideas are new sometimes find it very difficult
to understand how children can be of any use in the astral world.
Seeing, they would say, that the astral body of a child must be undeveloped,
and the ego thus limited by childhood on the astral as well as the
physical plane, in what way could such an ego be of use, or be able
to help towards the spiritual, mental and moral evolution of humanity,
which we are told is the chief concern of the helpers?
When
first such a question was asked, shortly after the publication of
one of these stories in our magazine, I sent it to Cyril himself,
to see what he would say to it, and his answer was this:
“It is quite true, as the writer says, that I am only a boy, and know
very little yet, and that I shall be much more useful when I have
learnt more. But I am able to do a little even now, because there
are so many people who have learnt nothing about Theosophy yet, though
they may know very much more than I do about everything else. And
you see when you want to get to a certain place, a little boy who
knows the way can do more for you than a hundred wise men who don’t know it.”
It may
be added that when a child had been awakened upon the astral
plane the development of the astral body would proceed so rapidly
that
he would very soon be in a position upon that plane but little
inferior to that of the awakened adult, and would of course be much
in advance,
so far as usefulness is concerned, of the wisest man who was
as yet unawakened. But unless the ego expressing himself through
the child-body
possessed the necessary qualification of a determined yet loving
disposition, and had clearly manifested it in his previous
lives, no occultist would take the very serious responsibility of
awakening
him upon the astral plane. When, however their karma is such
that it is possible for them to be thus aroused, children very often
prove
most efficient helpers, and throw themselves into their work
with a whole-souled devotion which is very beautiful to see. And
so is
fulfilled once more the ancient prophecy “a little child shall lead them.”
Another
question that suggests itself to one’s mind in reading this last story of the two brothers is this: Since
Cyril was somehow able to materialize himself by sheer
force of love and pity and strength of will, is it not strange
that Lancelot, who
had been trying so much longer to communicate, had
not succeeded in doing the same thing.
Well,
there is of course no difficulty in seeing why poor Lancelot
was unable to communicate with his brother, for that inability
is simply
the normal condition of affairs, the wonder is that Cyril was able to materialize himself, not that Lancelot was not. Not only, however, was the feeling probably stronger in Cyril’s case, but he also knew exactly what he wanted to do - knew that such a thing as materialization was a possibility, and
had some general idea as to how it was done - while Lancelot naturally knew nothing of all this then, though he
does now.
CHAPTER
XI
Wrecks
and Catastrophes
SOMETIMES
it is possible for members of the band of helpers to
avert impending catastrophes of a somewhat larger order. In more
than one case when
the captain of a vessel has been carried unsuspecting
far out of his course by some unknown current or through some mistaken
reckoning,
and has thereby run into serious danger, it has been
possible to prevent shipwreck by repeatedly impressing upon his mind
a feeling
that something was wrong; and although this generally
comes through into the captain’s brain merely as a vaguely warning intuition, yet if it occurs again
and again he is almost certain to give it some attention
and take such precautions as suggest themselves to him.
In one
case, for example, in which the master of a barque was much nearer
in to the land than he supposed, he was again and again pressed to
heave the lead, and though he resisted this suggestion for some time
as being unnecessary and absurd, he at last gave the order in a somewhat
hesitating way. The result astounded him, and he at once put his
vessel about and stood off from the coast, though it was not until
morning came that he realized how very close he had been to an appalling
disaster.
Often,
however, a catastrophe is kârmic in its nature, and consequently cannot be averted; but it must
not therefore be supposed that in such cases no help
can be given. It may be that the people concerned are destined
to die, and therefore
cannot be saved from death; but in many cases they
may still be to some extent prepared for it, and may certainly
be helped upon the
other side after it is over. Indeed, it may be definitely
stated that wherever a great catastrophe of any kind takes place,
there
is also a special sending of help.
Two
recent cases in which such help was given were the sinking of the Drummond Castle off Cape Ushant, and the terrible cyclone which devastated the city
of St Louis in America. On both these occasions a few minutes’ notice was given, and the helpers did their best to calm and raise
men's minds, so that when the shock came upon them it would
be less disturbing than it might otherwise have been. Naturally,
however, the
greater part of the work done with the victims in both these
calamities was
done upon the astral plane after they had left their physical
bodies; but of this we shall speak later.
It is
sad to relate how often when some catastrophe is impending
the helpers are hindered in their kindly offices by wild panic
among those whom
the danger threatens - or sometimes, worse still, by a mad outburst of drunkenness among
those whom they are trying to assist. Many a ship has gone
to her doom with almost every soul on board mad with
drink, and therefore utterly
incapable of profiting by any assistance offered either
before death or for a very long time afterwards.
If it
should ever happen to any of us to find ourselves in
a position of imminent danger which we can do nothing to avert, we
should try to
remember that help is certainly near us, and that it
rests entirely with ourselves to make the helper’s work easy or difficult. If we face the danger calmly and bravely,
recognizing that the true ego can in no way be affected
by it, our minds will then be open to receive the guidance which
the helpers
are trying to give, and this cannot but be best for
us, whether its object be to save us from death or, when that is
impossible, to conduct
us safely through it.
Assistance
of this latter kind has not infrequently been given
in cases of accidents to individuals, as well as of more general
catastrophes. It will
be sufficient to mention one example as an illustration
of what is meant. In one of the great storms which did so much damage
around
our coasts a few years ago, it happened that a fishing
boat was capsized far out at sea. The only people on board were an
old fisherman and
a boy, and the former contrived to cling for a few
minutes to the overturned boat. There was no physical help at hand,
and even if
there had been in such a raging storm it would have
been impossible for anything to be done, so that the fisherman knew
well enough that
there was no hope of escape, and that death could only
be a question of a few moments. He felt a great terror at the prospect,
being especially
impressed by the awful loneliness of that vast waste
of waters, and he was also much troubled with thoughts of his wife
and family, and the difficulties in which they would be left by his sudden decease.
A passing
helper seeing all this endeavoured to comfort him, but finding
his mind too much disturbed to be impressionable, she thought
it advisable
to show herself to him in order to assist him the better. In
relating the story afterwards she said that the change which
came over the
fisherman's face at sight of her was wonderful and beautiful
to see; with the shining form standing upon the boat above him he
could not think
that an angel had been sent to comfort him in his trouble,
and therefore he felt that not only would he himself be carried safely
through
the gates of death, but his family would assuredly be looked
after also. So, when death came to him a few moments later, he was
in a
frame of mind very different from the terror and perplexity
which had previously overcome him; and naturally when he recovered
consciousness
upon the astral plane and found the “angel” still beside him he felt himself at home with her, and was prepared
to accept her advice as regards the new life upon which he
had entered.
Some
time later the same helper was engaged in another piece of
work of very similar character, the story of which she has
since told as
fellows: “You remember that steamer that went down in the cyclone at the end
of last November; I betook myself to the cabin where about
a dozen women had been shut in, and found them wailing in the
most pitiful
manner, sobbing and moaning with fear. The ship had to founder - no aid was possible - and to go out of the world in this state of frantic terror is the
worst possible way to enter the next. So in order to calm them I
materialized myself, and of course they thought I was an angel,
poor souls; they
all fell on their knees and prayed me to save them, and one
poor mother pushed her baby into my arms imploring me to save
that at
least. They soon grew quiet and composed as we talked, and
the wee baby went to sleep smiling, and presently they all
fell asleep peacefully,
and I filled their minds with thoughts of the heaven-world,
so that they did not wake up when the ship made her final plunge
downwards.
I went down with them to ensure their sleeping through the
last moments, and they never stirred as their sleep became
death.”
Evidently
in this case, too, those who were thus helped had not only
the enormous advantage of being enabled to meet death calmly
and reasonably, but
also the still greater one of being received on its farther
shore by one whom they were already disposed to love
and trust - one who thoroughly understood the new world in which they found
themselves, and could not only reassure them as to their safety,
but advise
them how to order their lives under these much altered circumstances.
And this brings us to the consideration of one of the largest
and
most important departments of the work of invisible helpers - the guidance and assistance which they are able to give to the
dead.
CHAPTER XII
Work
Among the Dead
IT is
one of the many evils resulting from the absurdly erroneous
teaching as to conditions after death which is unfortunately current
in our
western world, that those who have recently shaken off this
mortal coil are usually much puzzled and often very seriously frightened
at finding everything so different from what their religion
had led
them to expect. The mental attitude of a large number of such
people was pithily voiced the other day by an English general, who
three
days after his death met one of the band of helpers whom he
had known in physical life. After expressing his great relief that
he had at
last found someone with whom he was able to communicate, his
first remark was: “But if I am dead, where am I? For if this is heaven I don’t think much of it; and if it is hell, it is better than I expected.”
But
unfortunately a far greater number take things less philosophically.
They have been taught that all men are destined to eternal
flames except a favoured few who are superhumanly good; and
since a very
small amount of self-examination convinces them that they do
not belong to that category, they are but too often in a condition of panic terror, dreading
every moment that the new world in which they find themselves
may dissolve and drop them into the clutches of the devil,
in whom they
have been sedulously taught to believe. In many cases they
spend long periods of acute mental suffering before they can
free themselves
from the fatal influence of this blasphemous doctrine of everlasting
punishment - before they can realize that the world is governed, not according
to the caprice of a hideous demon who gloats over human anguish,
but according to a benevolent and wonderfully patient law of
evolution, which is absolutely just indeed, but yet again and
again offers
to
man opportunities of progress, if he will but take them, at
every stage of his career.
It ought
in fairness to be mentioned that it is only among what are called
protestant communities that this terrible evil assumes its most aggravated
form. The great Roman Catholic Church, with its doctrine of purgatory,
approaches much more nearly to a conception of the astral plane,
and it devout members at any rate realize that the state in which
they find themselves shortly after death is merely a temporary one,
and that it is their business to endeavour to raise themselves out
of it as soon as may be by intense spiritual aspiration, while they
accept any suffering which may come to them as necessary for the
wearing away of the imperfections in their character before they
can pass to higher and brighter regions.
It will
thus be seen that there is plenty of work for the helpers
to do among the newly dead, for in the vast majority of cases they
need to be
calmed and reassured, to be comforted and instructed.
In the astral, just as in the physical world, there are many who
are but little
disposed to take advice from those who know better
than they; yet the very strangeness of the conditions surrounding
them renders many
of the dead willing to accept the guidance of those
to whom these conditions are obviously familiar; and many a man’s stay on that plane has been considerably shortened by the earnest
efforts of this band of energetic workers.
Not,
be it understood, that the karma of the dead man can in any way be
interfered with; he has built for himself during life an astral body
of a certain degree of density, and until that body is sufficiently
dissolved he cannot pass on into the heaven-world beyond; but he
need not lengthen the period necessary for that process by adopting
an improper attitude.
All
students ought clearly to grasp the truth that the length of
a man’s astral life after he has put off his physical body depends mainly
upon two factors - the nature of his past physical life, and his attitude of mind after
what we call death. During his earth life he is constantly
influencing the building of matter into his astral body. He
affects it directly
by the passions, emotions and desires which he allows to hold
sway over him; he affects it indirectly by the action upon
it of his thoughts
from above, and of the details of his physical life - his continence or his debauchery, his cleanliness or his uncleanliness,
his food and his drink - from below.
If by
persistence in perversity along any of these lines he is so
stupid as to build for himself a coarse and gross astral vehicle,
habituated
to responding only to the lower vibrations of the plane, he
will find himself after death bound to that plane during and
long and
slow process of that body's disintegration. On the other
hand if by decent and careful living he gives himself a vehicle mainly
composed of finer material,
he will have very much less post-mortem trouble and discomfort, and his evolution will proceed much more rapidly
and easily.
This
much is generally understood, but the second great factor - his attitude of mind after death - seems often to be forgotten. The desirable thing is for him to realize
his position on this particular little arc of his evolution - to learn that he is at this stage withdrawing steadily inward towards
the plane of the true ego, and that consequently it is his
business to disengage his thoughts as far as may be from things
physical, and to fix his attention more and more upon those
spiritual matters
which will occupy him during his life in the heaven-world.
By doing this he will greatly facilitate the natural astral
disintegration,
and will avoid the sadly common mistake of unnecessarily delaying
himself upon the lower levels of what should be so temporary
a residence.
But
many of the dead very considerably retard the process of dissolution
by clinging passionately to the earth which they have left; they
simply will not turn their thoughts and desires upward, but spend
their time in struggling with all their might to keep in full touch
with the physical plane, thus causing great trouble to any one who
may be trying to help them. Earthly matters are the only ones in
which they have had any living interest, and they cling to them with
desperate tenacity even after death. Naturally as time passes on
they find it increasingly difficult to keep hold of things down here,
but instead of welcoming and encouraging this process of gradual
refinement and spiritualization they resist it vigorously by every
means in their power.
Of course
the mighty force of evolution is eventually too strong for them,
and they are swept on in its beneficent current, yet they fight every
step of the way, thereby not only causing themselves a vast amount
of entirely unnecessary pain and sorrow, but also very seriously
delaying their upward progress and prolonging their stay in astral
regions to an almost indefinite extent. In convincing them that this
ignorant and disastrous opposition to the cosmic will is contrary
to the laws of nature, and persuading them to adopt an attitude of
mind which is the exact reversal of it, lies a great part of the
work of those who are trying to help.
It happens
occasionally that the dead are earthbound by anxiety - anxiety sometimes about duties unperformed or debts undischarged,
but more often on account of wife or children left unprovided
for. In such cases as this it has more than once been
necessary, before the
dead man was satisfied to pursue his upward path in
peace, that the helper should to some extent act as
his representative upon the physical
plane, and attend on his behalf to the settlement of
the business which was troubling him. An illustration
taken from our recent experience
will perhaps make this clearer.
One
of the band of pupils was trying to assist a poor man who had died
in one of our western cities, but found it impossible to withdraw
his mind from earthly things because of his anxiety about two young
children whom his death had left without means of support. He had
been a working man of some sort, and had been unable to lay by any
money for them; his wife had died some two years previously and his
landlady, though exceedingly kindhearted and very willing to do anything
in her power for them, was herself far too poor to be able to adopt
them, and very reluctantly came to the conclusion that she would
be obliged to hand them over to the parish authorities. This was
a great grief to the dead father, though he could not blame the landlady,
and was himself unable to suggest any other course.
Our
friend asked him whether he had no relative to whom he could entrust
them, but the father knew of none. He had a younger brother, he said,
who would certainly have done something for him in this extremity,
but he had lost sight of him for fifteen years, and did not even
know whether he was living or dead. When last heard of he had been
apprenticed to a carpenter in the north, and he was then described
as a steady young fellow who, if he lived, would surely get on.
The
clues at hand were certainly very slight, but since
there seemed no other prospect of help for the children, our
friend thought it
worth while to make a special effort to follow them
up. Taking the dead man with him he commenced a patient search
after the brother
in the town indicated; and after a great deal of trouble
they were actually successful in finding him. He was now a
master carpenter
in a fairly flourishing way of business - married, but
without children though earnestly desiring them, and therefore apparently
just the man for the emergency.
The
question now was how the information could be conveyed to this
brother. Fortunately he was found to be so far impressionable that
the circumstances
of his brother’s death and the destitution of his children could be put vividly before
him in a dream, and this was repeated three times, the place and
even the name of the landlady being clearly indicated to him. He
was immensely impressed by this recurring vision, and discussed it
earnestly with his wife, who advised him to write to the address
given. This he did not like to do, but was strongly inclined to travel
down into the west country, find out whether there was such a house
as that which he had seen, and if so make some excuse to call there.
He was a busy man, however, and he finally decided that he could
not afford to lose a day’s work for what after all might well prove to be nothing but the baseless
fabric of a dream.
The
attempt along these lines having apparently failed,
it was determined to try another method, so one of the helpers wrote
a letter to the
man detailing the circumstances of his brother’s death and the position of the children, exactly as he had seen them
in his dream. On receipt of this confirmation he no
longer hesitated, but set off the very next day for the town indicated,
and was received
with open arms by the kind-hearted landlady. It had
been easy enough for the helpers to persuade her, good soul that
she was, to keep
the children with her for a few days on the chance
that something or other would turn up for them, and she has ever
since congratulated
herself that she did so. The carpenter of course took
the children back with him and provided them with a happy home,
and the dead father,
now no longer anxious, passed rejoicing on his upward
journey.
Since
some Theosophical writers have felt it their duty to
insist in vigorous terms upon the evils so frequently attendant upon
the holding of
spiritual séances, it is only fair to admit that on several occasions good work
similar to that of the helper in the case just described
has been done through the agency of a medium or of some one present
at a circle.
Thus, though spiritualism has too often detained souls
who but for it would have attained speedier liberation, it must
be set to the
credit of its account that it has also furnished the
means of escape to others, and thus opened up the path of advancement
for them. There
have been instances in which the defunct has been able
to appear unassisted to his relatives or friends and explain his
wishes to
them; but these are naturally rare, and most souls
who are earth-bound by anxieties of the kind indicated can satisfy
themselves only by
means of the services of the medium or the conscious
helper.
Another
case very frequently encountered on the astral plane is that of the
man who cannot believe that he is dead at all. Indeed, most people
consider the very fact that they are still conscious to be an absolute
proof that they have not passed through the portals of death; somewhat
of a satire this, if one thinks of it, on the practical value of
our much vaunted belief in the immortality of the soul! However they
may have labeled themselves during life, the great majority of those
who die, in this country at any rate, show themselves by their subsequent
attitude to have been to all intents and purposes materialists at
heart; and those who on earth have honestly called themselves so
are often no more difficult to deal with than others who would have
been shocked at the very name.
A very
recent instance was that of a scientific man who, finding himself
fully conscious, and yet under conditions differing radically from
any that he had ever experienced before, had persuaded himself that
he was still alive, and merely the victim of a prolonged and unpleasant
dream. Fortunately for him there happened to be among the band of
those able to function upon the astral plane a son of an old friend
of his, a young man whose father had commissioned him to search for
the departed scientist and endeavour to render him some assistance.
When after some trouble the youth found and accosted him, he frankly
admitted that he was in a condition of great bewilderment and discomfort,
but still clung desperately to his dream hypothesis as on the whole
the most probable explanation of what he saw, and even went so far
as to suggest that his visitor was nothing but a dream-figure himself!
At last,
however, he so far gave way as to propose a kind of test, and
said to the young man, “If you are, as you assert, a living person, and the son of my old friend,
bring me from him some message that shall prove to me your objective
reality.” Now although under all ordinary conditions of the physical plane the
giving of any kind of phenomenal proof is strictly forbidden to the
pupils of the Masters, it seemed as though a case of this kind hardly
came under the rules; and therefore, when it had been ascertained
that there was no objection on the part of higher authorities, an
application was made to the father, who at once sent a message referring
to a series of events which had occurred before the son’s birth. This convinced the dead man of the real existence of his young
friend, and therefore of the plane upon which they were both
functioning; and as soon as he felt this established, his scientific
training
at once reasserted itself, and he became exceeding eager to
acquire all possible information about this new region.
Of course
the message which he so readily accepted as evidence was in reality
no proof at all, since the facts to which it referred might have
been read from his own mind or from the records of the past by any
creature possessed of astral senses! But his ignorance of these possibilities
enabled this definite impression to be made upon him, and the Theosophical
instruction which his young friend is now nightly giving to him will
undoubtedly have a stupendous effect upon his future, for it cannot
but greatly modify not only the heaven-state which lies immediately
before him, but also his next incarnation upon earth.
The
main work, then, done for the newly dead by our helpers is
that of soothing and comforting them - of delivering them when possible from the terrible though unreasoning
fear which but too often seizes them, and not only causes them
much unnecessary suffering, but retards their progress to higher
spheres - and of enabling them as far as may be to comprehend the future that
lies before them.
Others
who have been longer on the astral plane may also receive much help,
if they will but accept it, from explanations and advice as to their
course through its different stages. They may, for example, be warned
of the danger and delay caused by attempting to communicate with
the living through a medium, and sometimes (though rarely) an entity
already drawn into a spiritualistic circle may be guided into higher
and healthier life. Teaching thus given to persons on this plane
is by no means lost for though the memory of it cannot of course
be directly carried over to the next incarnation, there always remains
the real inner knowledge, and therefore the strong predisposition
to accept it immediately when heard again in the new life.
A rather
remarkable instance of service rendered to the dead was the
first achievement of a very recent recruit to the band of
helpers - one who is hardly as yet a fully-fledged member. This young aspirant
had not long before lost an aged relation for whom he had felt
an especially warm affection; and his earliest request was
to be taken
by a more experienced friend to visit her in the hope that
he might be of some service to her. This was done and the effect
of the meeting
of the living and the dead was very beautiful and touching.
The older person’s astral life was already approaching its end, but a condition of apathy,
dullness and uncertainty prevented her from making any immediate
progress.
But
when the boy, who had been so much to her in earth-life, stood once
more before her and dissolved by the sunlight of his love the grey
mist of depression which had gathered around her, she was aroused
from her stupor; and soon she understood that he had come in order
to explain to her her situation, and to tell her of the glories of
the higher life toward which her thoughts and aspirations ought now
to be directed. But when this was fully realized, there was such
an awakening of dormant feeling in her and such an outrush of devoted
affection towards her earnest young helper, that the last fetters
which bound her to the astral life were broken, and that one great
outburst of love and gratitude swept her forthwith into the higher
consciousness of the heaven-world. Truly there is no greater and
more beneficent power in the universe than that of pure, unselfish
love.
CHAPTER
XIII
Other
Branches of the Work
BUT
turning back again now from the all-important work
among the dead to the consideration of the work among the living,
we must briefly
indicate a great branch of it, without a notice of
which our account of the labours of our invisible helpers would
indeed be incomplete,
and that is the immense amount which is done by suggestion - by simply putting good thoughts into the minds of those who are ready
to receive them.
Let
there be no mistake as to what is meant here. It would be perfectly
easy - easy to a degree which would be quite incredible to
those who do not understand the subject practically - for
a helper to dominate the mind of any average man, and make him think
just as he pleased, and that without arousing the faintest
suspicion of any outside influence in the mind of the subject.
But, however admirable the result might be, such a proceeding
would be
entirely inadmissible. All that may be done is to throw the
good thought into the person’s mind as one among the hundreds that are constantly sweeping through
it; whether the man takes it up, makes it his own, and acts
upon it, depends upon himself entirely. Were it otherwise,
it is obvious
that all the good karma of the action would accrue to the helper
only, for the subject would have been a mere tool, and not
an actor - which is not what is desired.
The
assistance given in this way is exceedingly varied in character.
The consolation of those who are suffering or in sorrow at once suggests
itself, as does also the endeavour to guide toward the truth those
who are earnestly seeking it. When a person is spending much anxious
thought upon some spiritual or metaphysical problem, it is often
possible to put the solution into his mind without his being at all
aware that it comes from external agency.
A pupil
too may often be employed as an agent in what can hardly be described
otherwise than as the answering of prayer; for though it is true
that any earnest spiritual desire, such as might be supposed to find
its expression in prayer, is itself a force which automatically brings
about certain results, it is also a fact that such a spiritual effort
offers an opportunity of influence to the Powers of Good, of which
they are not slow to take advantage; and it is sometimes the privilege
of a willing helper to be made the channel through which their energy
is poured forth. What is said of prayers is true to an even greater
extent of meditation, for those to whom this higher exercise is a
possibility.
Besides
these more general methods of help there are also special lines open
only to the few. Again and again such pupils as are fitted for the
work have been employed to suggest true and beautiful thoughts to
authors, poets, artists and musicians; but obviously it is not every
helper who is capable of being used in this way.
Sometimes,
though more rarely, it is possible to warn persons of the danger
to their moral development of some course which they are pursuing,
to clear away evil influences from about some person or place, or
to counteract the machinations of black magicians. It is not often
that direct instruction in the great truths of nature can be given
to people outside the circle of occult students, but occasionally
it is possible to do something in that way by putting before the
minds of preachers and teachers a wider range of thought or a more
liberal view of some question than they would otherwise have taken.
Naturally
as an occult student progresses on the Path he attains a wider
sphere of usefulness. Instead of assisting individuals only,
he learns how
classes, nations and races are dealt with, and he is entrusted
with a gradually increasing share of the higher and more important
work
done by the adepts themselves. As he acquires the requisite
power and knowledge he begins to wield the greater forces of
the mental
and the astral planes and is shown how to make the utmost possible
use of each favourable cyclic influence. He is brought into
relation with those great Nirmânakâyas who are sometimes symbolized as the Stones of the Guardian Wall,
and he becomes - at first of course in the very humblest capacity - one of the and of their almoners, and learns how those forces are
dispersed which are the fruit of their sublime self-sacrifice. Thus
he
rises gradually higher and higher until, blossoming at length
into adeptship,
he is able to take his full share of the responsibility which
lies upon the Masters of Wisdom, and to help others along the
road which
he has trodden.
On the
mental plane the work differs somewhat, since teaching can
be both given and received in a much more direct, rapid and
perfect manner,
while the influences set in motion are infinitely more powerful,
because acting on so much higher a level. But (though it is
useless to speak of it in detail at present, since so few of
us are yet able
to function consciously upon this plane during life) here
also - and even higher still - there is always plenty of work to be done, as soon as ever we can
make ourselves capable of doing it; and there is certainly no fear
that for countless æons we shall ever find ourselves without a career of unselfish usefulness
open before us.
CHAPTER
XIV
The
Qualifications Required
HOW,
it may be asked, are we to make ourselves capable of sharing in this
great work? Well, there is no mystery as to the qualifications which
are needed by one who aspires to be a helper; the difficulty is not
in learning what they are, but in developing them in oneself. To
some extent they have been already incidentally described, but it
is nevertheless as well that they should be set out fully and categorically.
1. Single-mindedness. The
first requisite is that we shall have recognized the great work which
the Masters would have us do, and that it shall be for us the one
great interest in our lives. We must learn to distinguish not only
between useful and useless work, but between the different kinds
of useful work, so that we may each devote ourselves to the very
highest of which we are capable, and not fritter away our time in
labouring at something which, however good it may be for the man
who cannot yet do anything better, is unworthy of the knowledge and
capacity which should be ours as Theosophists. A man who wishes to
be considered eligible for employment on higher planes must begin
by doing the utmost that lies in his power in the way of definite
work for Theosophy down here.
Of course
I do not for a moment mean that we are to neglect the ordinary
duties of life. We should certainly do well to undertake no
new worldly duties of any sort, but those which we have already
bound upon
our
shoulders have become a kârmic obligation which we have no right to neglect. Unless we have done
to the full the duties which karma has laid upon us we are
not free for the higher work. But this higher work must nevertheless
be to
us the one thing really worth living for - the constant background of a life which is consecrated to the service
of the Masters of Compassion.
2. Perfect
self-control. Before we can be safely trusted with the wider powers of the astral
life, we must have ourselves perfectly in hand. Our temper, for
example, must be thoroughly under control, so that nothing that
we may see or hear can cause real irritation in us, for the consequences
of such irritation would be far more serious on that plane than
on this. The force of thought is always an enormous power, but
down here it is reduced and deadened by the heavy physical brain-particles
which it has to set in motion. In the astral world it is far freer
and more potent, and for a man with fully awakened faculty to feel
anger against a person there would be to do him serious and perhaps
even fatal injury.
Not
only do we need control of temper, but control of nerve,
so that none of the fantastic or terrible sights that we may encounter
may
be able to shake our dauntless courage. It must be
remembered that the pupil who awakens a man upon the astral plane
incurs thereby
a certain amount of responsibility for his actions
and for his safety, so that unless his neophyte had courage to stand
alone the whole
of the older worker’s time would be wasted in hovering round to protect him, which it would
be manifestly unreasonable to expect.
It is
to make sure of this control of nerve, and to fit them for the work
that has to be done, that candidates are always made, now as in days
of old, to pass what are called the tests of earth, water, air and
fire.
In other
words, they have to learn with that absolute certainty
that comes not by theory, but by practical experience, that
in their astral
bodies none of these elements can by any possibility
be hurtful to them - that none can oppose any obstacle in the way the work which they
have to do.
In this
physical body we are fully convinced that fire will burn us, that
water will drown us, that the solid rock forms an impassable barrier
to our progress, that we cannot with safety launch ourselves unsupported
into the ambient air. So deeply is this conviction ingrained in us
that it costs most men a good deal of effort to overcome the instinctive
action which follows from it, and to realize that in the astral body
the densest rock offers no impediment to their freedom of motion,
that they may leap with impunity from the highest cliff, and plunge
with the most absolute confidence into the heart of the raging volcano
or the deepest abysses of the fathomless ocean.
Yet
until a man knows this - knows it sufficiently to act upon his knowledge instinctively and
confidently - he is comparatively useless for astral work, since in emergencies
that are constantly arising he would be perpetually paralyzed
by imaginary disabilities. So he has to go through his tests,
and through many
another strange experience - to meet face to face with calm courage the most terrifying apparitions
amid the most loathsome surroundings - to show in fact that his nerve may be thoroughly trusted under any
and all of the varied groups of circumstances in which he may
at any moment find himself.
Further,
we need control of mind and of desire; of mind, because without the
power of concentration it would be impossible to do good work amid
all the distracting currents of the astral plane; of desire, because
in that strange world to desire is very often to have, and unless
this part of our nature were well controlled we might perchance find
ourselves face to face with creations of our own of which we should
be heartily ashamed.
3. Calmness. This
is another most important point - the absence of all worry and depression. Much of the work consists
in soothing those who are disturbed, and cheering those who
are in sorrow; and how can a helper do that work if his own
aura is vibrating
with constant fuss and worry, or grey with the deadly gloom
that comes from perpetual depression? Nothing is more hopelessly
fatal
to occult progress or usefulness than our nineteenth century
habit of ceaselessly worrying over trifles - of eternally making mountains out of molehills. Many of us simply
spend our lives in magnifying the most absurd trivialities
- in solemnly and elaborately going to work to make ourselves
miserable about nothing.
Surely
we who are Theosophists ought, at any rate, to have got beyond
this stage of irrational worry and causeless depression; surely we,
who
are trying to acquire some definite knowledge of the cosmic
order, ought by this time to have realized that the optimistic view
of everything
is always nearest to the divine view, and therefore to the
truth, because only that in any person which is good and beautiful
can by
any possibility be permanent, while the evil must by its very
nature be temporary. In fact, as Browning said, “the evil is null, is naught, is silence implying sound,” while above and beyond it all “the soul of things is sweet, the Heart of Being is celestial rest.” So They who know maintain unruffled calm, and with Their perfect sympathy
combine the joyous serenity which comes from the certainty
that all will at last be well; and those who wish to help must learn
to follow
Their example.
4. Knowledge. To
be of use the man must at least have some knowledge of the nature
of the plane on which he has to work, and the more knowledge he has
in any and every direction the more useful he will be. He must fit
himself for this task by carefully studying Theosophical literature;
for he cannot expect those whose time is already so fully occupied
to waste some of it in explaining to him what he might have learnt
down here by taking the trouble to read the books. No one who is
not already as earnest a student as his capacities and opportunities
permit, need begin to think of himself as a candidate for astral
work.
5. Unselfishness.
It would seem scarcely needful to assist upon this as a qualification,
for surely everyone who has made the least study of Theosophy
must know that while the slightest taint of selfishness remains
in a man,
he is not yet fit to be entrusted with higher powers, not yet
fit to enter upon a work of whose very essence it is that the
worker should forget himself but to remember the good of others.
He
who
is still capable of selfish thought, whose personality is still
so strong in him that he can allow himself to be turned aside
from his
work by feelings of petty pride or suggestions of wounded
dignity - that man is not yet ready to show the selfless devotion
of the helper.
6. Love. This,
the last and greatest of the qualifications, is also the most
misunderstood. Most emphatically it is not the cheap, namby-pamby backboneless sentimentalism which is always
overflowing into vague platitudes and gushing generalities,
yet fears to stand firm for the right lest it should be branded
by the ignorant
as “unbrotherly.” What is wanted is the love which is strong enough not to boast itself, but to act without talking about it - the intense desire for service which is ever on the watch for an
opportunity to render it, even though it prefers to do so
anonymously - the feeling which springs up in the heart of him who has realized
the great work of the Logos, and having once seen it, knows that
for him there can be in the three worlds no other course but
to identify himself with it to the utmost limit of his power
- to become, in however humble a way, and at however great
a distance, a tiny channel of that wondrous love of God which,
like the
peace of God, passeth man’s understanding.
These
are the qualities toward the possession of which the helper must
ceaselessly strive, and of which some considerable measure at least
must be his before he can hope that the Great Ones who stand behind
will deem him fit for full awakening. The ideal is in truth a high
one, yet none need therefore turn away disheartened, nor think that
while he is still but struggling toward it he must necessarily remain
entirely useless on the astral plane, for short of the responsibilities
and dangers of that full awakening there is much that may safely
and usefully be done.
There
is hardly one among us who would not be capable of
performing at least one definite act of mercy and good will
each night while we
are away from our bodies. Our condition when asleep
is usually one of absorption in thought, be it remembered - a carrying on of the thoughts that have principally occupied us during
the day, and especially of the last thought in the
mind when sinking into sleep. Now if we make that last thought
a strong intention to
go and give help to some one whom we know to be in
need of it, the soul when freed from the body will undoubtedly
carry out that intention,
and the help will be given. There are several cases
on record in which, when this attempt has been made, the person
thought of has
been fully conscious of the effort of the would-be
helper, and has even seen his astral body in the act of carrying
out the instructions
impressed upon it.
Indeed,
no one need sadden himself with the thought that he
can have no part nor lot in this glorious work. Such a feeling
would be entirely untrue,
for every one who can think can help. Nor need such
useful action be confined to our hours of sleep. If you know
(and who does not?)
of some one who is in sorrow or suffering, though you
may not be able consciously to stand in astral form by their
bedside, you can
nevertheless send them loving thoughts and earnest
good wishes; and be well assured that such thoughts and wishes
are real and living
and strong - that when you so send them they do actually go and work your will
in proportion to the strength which you have put into
them. Thoughts are things, intensely real things, visible
enough to those whose
eyes have been opened to see, and by their means the
poorest man may bear his part in the good work of the
world as fully as the richest.
In this way at least, whether we can yet function consciously
upon the astral plane or not, we all can join, and
we all ought to join,
the army of invisible helpers.
But
the aspirant, who definitely desires to become one of the band of
astral helpers who are working under the direction of the great Masters
of Wisdom, will make his preparation part of a far wider scheme of
development. Instead of merely endeavouring to fit himself for this
particular branch of their service, he will undertake with high resolution
the far greater task of training himself to follow in their footsteps,
of bending all the energies of his soul to attain even as they have
attained, so that his power of helping the world may not be confined
to the astral plane, but may extend to those higher levels which
are the true home of the divine self of man.
For
him the path has been marked out long ago by the wisdom
of those who have trodden it in days of old - a path of self-development which sooner or later all must follow,
whether they choose to adopt it of their own free will, or
to wait until, after many lives and an infinity of suffering,
the slow, resistless
force of evolution drives them along it among the laggards
of the human family. But the wise man is he who eagerly enters
upon it immediately,
setting his face resolutely toward the goal of adeptship,
in order that, being safe for ever from all doubt and fear
and sorrow himself,
he may help others into safety and happiness also.
What are the steps of this Path of Holiness, as the Buddhists
call it, and in what order
they are arranged, let us see in our next chapter.
CHAPTER
XV
The
Probationary Path
EASTERN
books tell us that there are four means by which a man may be brought
to the beginning of the path of spiritual advancement: 1. By the
companionship of those who have already entered upon it. 2. By the
hearing or reading of definite teaching on occult philosophy. 3.
By enlightened reflection; that is to say, that by sheer force of
hard thinking and close reasoning he may arrive at the truth, or
some portion of it, for himself. 4. By the practice of virtue, which
means that a long series of virtuous lives, though it does not necessarily
involve any increase of intellectuality, does eventually develop
in man sufficient intuition to enable him to grasp the necessity
of entering upon the path, and show him in what direction it lies.
When,
by one or another of these means, he has arrived at this point, the
way to the highest adeptship lies straight before him, if he chooses
to take it. In writing for students of occultism it is hardly necessary
to say that at our present stage of development we cannot expect
to learn all, or nearly all, about any but the lowest steps of this
path; whilst of the highest we know little but the names, though
we may get occasional glimpses of the indescribable glory which surrounds
them.
According
to the esoteric teachings these steps are grouped in three great
divisions:
1. The
probationary period, before any definite pledges are taken, or initiations
(in the full sense of the word) are given. This carries a man to
the level necessary to pass successfully through what in Theosophical
books is usually called the critical period of the fifth round.
2. The
period of pledged discipleship, or the path proper,
whose four stages are often spoken of in Oriental books as
the four paths of holiness.
At the end of this the pupil obtains adeptship - the level which humanity should reach at the close of the seventh
round.
3. What
we may venture to call the official period, in which the adept
takes a definite part (under the great Cosmic Law) in the government
of
the world, and holds a special office connected therewith,
Of course every adept - every pupil even, when once definitely accepted, as we have seen
in the earlier chapters - takes a part in the great work of helping forward the evolution
of man; but those standing on the higher levels take charge
of special departments, and correspond in the cosmic scheme to
the ministers of the crown in a well-ordered earthly state.
It is not proposed
to make any attempt in this book to treat of this official
period;
no information about it has ever been made public, and the
whole subject is too far above our comprehension to be profitably
dealt
with in print. We will confine ourselves therefore to the two
earlier divisions.
Before
going into details of the probationary period it is
well to mention that in most of the Eastern sacred books this stage
is regarded as
merely preliminary, and scarcely as part of the path
at all, for they consider that the latter is really entered upon
only when definite
pledges have been given. Considerable confusion has
been created by the fact that the numbering of the stages occasionally
commences
at this point, though more often at the beginning of
the second great division; sometimes the stages themselves are counted,
and sometimes
the initiations leading into or out of them, so that
in studying the books one has to be perpetually on one’s guard to avoid misunderstanding.
This
probationary period, however, differs considerably in character from
the others; the divisions between its stages are less decidedly marked
than are those of the higher groups, and the requirements are not
so definite or so exacting. But it will be easier to explain this
last point after giving a list of the five stages of this period,
with their respective qualifications. The first four were very ably
described by Mr Mohini Mohun Chatterji in the first Transaction of
the London Lodge, to which readers may be referred for fuller definitions
of them than can be given here. Much exceedingly valuable information
about them is also given by Mrs. Besant in her books The Path of Discipleship and In the Outer Court.
The
names given to the stages will differ somewhat, for
in those books the Hindu Sanskrit terminology was employed, whereas
the Pâli nomenclature used here is that of the Buddhist system; but although
the subject is thus approached from a different side
as it were, the qualifications exacted will be found to be precisely
the same
in effect even when the outward form varies. In the
case of each word the mere dictionary meaning will first be given
in parentheses,
and the explanation of it which is usually given by
the teacher will follow. The first stage, then is called among Buddhists.
1.
Manodvâravajjana
(the opening of the doors of the mind, or perhaps escaping
by the door of the mind) - and in it the candidate acquires a firm intellectual conviction of
the impermanence and worthlessness of mere earthly aims. This
is often described as learning the difference between the real
and the
unreal; and to learn it often takes a long time and many hard
lessons. Yet it is obvious that it must be the first step toward
anything
like real progress, for no man can enter whole-heartedly upon
the path until he has definitely decided to “set his affection upon things above, not on things on the earth,” and that decision comes from the certainty that nothing on earth has
any value as compared with the higher life. This step is called
by the Hindus the acquirement of Viveka or discrimination,
and Mr. Sinnett
speaks of it as the giving allegiance to the higher self.
2. Parikamma
(preparation for action) - the stage in which the candidate learns to do the right merely because
it is right, without considering his own gain or loss either
in this world or the future, and acquires, as the Eastern books
put it, perfect
indifference to the enjoyment of the fruit of his own actions.
This indifference is the natural result of the previous step;
for when
the neophyte has once grasped the unreal and impermanent character
of all earthly rewards, he ceases to crave for them; when once
the radiance of the real has shone upon the soul, nothing below
that can any longer be an object of desire. This higher
indifference is
called by the Hindus Vairâgya.
3.
Upachâro
(attention or conduct) - the stage in which what are called “the six qualifications” (the Shatsampatti of the Hindus) must be acquired. These are called
in Pâli:
(a)
Samo (quietude) - that purity and calmness of thought which comes from perfect control
of the mind - a qualification exceedingly difficult of attainment, and yet most
necessary, for unless the mind moves only in obedience to the guidance
of the will it cannot be a perfect instrument for the Master’s work in the future. This qualification is a very comprehensive one,
and includes within itself both the self-control and the calmness
which were described in chapter xiv. as necessary for astral
work.
(b)
Damo (subjugation) - a similar mastery over, and therefore purity in, one’s actions and words - a quality which again follows necessarily from its predecessor.
(c)
Uparti (cessation) - explained as cessation from bigotry or from belief in the necessity
of any act or ceremony prescribed by a particular religion - so leading the aspirant to independence of thought and to a wide
and generous tolerance.
(d)
Titikkhâ (endurance or forbearance) - by which is meant the readiness to bear with cheerfulness whatever
one’s karma may bring upon one, and to part with anything and everything
worldly whenever it may be necessary. It also includes the
idea of complete absence of resentment for wrong, the man knowing
that those
who do him wrong are but the instruments of his own karma.
(e)
Samâdhâna (intentness) - one-pointedness involving the incapability of being turned aside
from one’s path by temptation. This corresponds very closely with the single-mindness
spoken of in the previous chapter.
(f)
Saddhâ (faith) - confidence in one’s Master and oneself: confidence, that is, that the Master is a competent
teacher, and that, however diffident the pupil may feel as
to his own powers, he has yet within him that divine spark
which when fanned
into a flame will one day enable him to achieve even as his
Master has done.
4. Anuloma
(direct order or succession, signifying that its attainment
follows as a natural consequence from the other three) - the stage in which is acquired that intense desire for liberation
from earthly life, and for union with the highest, which
is called by the Hindus Mumukshatva.
5.
Gotrabhû (the
condition of fitness for initiation); in this stage the candidate
gathers up, as it were, his previous acquisitions, and strengthens
them to the degree necessary for the next great step, which
will set his feet upon the path proper as an accepted pupil.
The attainment
of this level is followed very rapidly by initiation into the
next grade. In answer to the question, “Who is the Gotrabhû?” Buddha says, “The man who is in possession of those conditions upon which the commencement
of sanctification immediately ensues - he is the Gotrabhû
The
wisdom necessary for the reception of the path of holiness
is called Gotrabhû-gñâna.
Now
that we have hastily glanced at the steps of the probationary
period, we must emphasize the point to which reference was
made at the commencement - that the perfect attainment of these accomplishments and qualifications is not expected
at this early stage. As Mr. Mohini says, “If all these are equally strong, adeptship is attained in the same
incarnation.” But such a result is of course extremely rare. It is in the direction
of these acquirements that the candidate must ceaselessly strive,
but it would be an error to suppose that no one has been admitted
to the next step without possessing all of them in the fullest
possible degree. Nor do they necessarily follow one another
in the same definite
order as the later steps; in fact, in many cases a man would
be developing the various qualifications all at the same
time - rather side by side than in regular succession.
It is
obvious that a man might easily be working along a great part of
this path even though he was quite unaware of its very existence,
and no doubt many a good Christian, many an earnest freethinker is
already far on the road that will eventually lead him to initiation,
though he may never have heard the word occultism in his life. I
mention these two classes especially, because in every other religion
occult development is recognized as a possibility, and would certainly
therefore be intentionally sought by those who felt yearnings for
something more satisfactory than the exoteric faiths.
We must
also note that the steps of this probationary period are not separated
by initiations in the full sense of the word, though they will certainly
be studded with tests and trials of all sorts and on all planes,
and may be relieved by encouraging experiences, and by hints and
help whenever these may safely be given. We are apt sometimes to
use the word initiation somewhat loosely, as for example when it
is applied to such tests as have just been mentioned; properly speaking
it refers only to the solemn ceremony at which a pupil is formally
admitted to a higher grade by an appointed official, who in the name
of the One Initiator receives his plighted vow, and puts into his
hands the new key of knowledge which he is to use on the level to
which he has now attained. Such an initiation is taken at the entrance
to the division which we shall next consider, and also at each passage
from any one of its steps to the next.
CHAPTER
XVI
The
Path Proper
IT is
in the four stages of this division of the path that the ten
Samyojana, or fetters which bind man to the circle of rebirth and
hold him back
from Nirvâna, must be cast off. And here comes the difference between this period
of pledged discipleship and the previous probation. No partial
success in getting rid of these fetters is sufficient now; before
a candidate
can pass on from one of the steps to the next he must be entirely free from certain of these clogs; and when they are enumerated it
will be seen how far-reaching this requirement is, and there will
be little cause to wonder at the statement made in the sacred books
that seven incarnations are sometimes required to pass through this
division of the path.
Each
of these four steps or stages is again divided into
four: for each has (1) its Maggo, or way, during which the student
is striving to
cast off the fetters; (2) its Phala (result or fruit)
when he finds the results of his action in so doing showing themselves
more and
more; (3) its Bhavagga or consummation, the period
when, the result having culminated, he is able to fulfil satisfactorily
the work belonging
to the step on which he now firmly stands; and (4)
its Gotrabhû, meaning, as before, the time when he arrives at a fit state to receive
the next initiation. The first stage is:
1.
Sotâpatti
or Sohan. The pupil who has attained this level is spoken of
as the Sowani or Sotâpanna - “he who has entered the stream, - “because from this period, though he may linger, though he may succumb
to more refined temptations and turn aside from his course
for a time, he can no longer fall back altogether from spirituality
and
become a mere worldling. He has entered upon the stream of
definite higher human evolution, upon which all humanity must
enter by the
middle of the next round, unless they are to be left behind
as temporary failures by the great life-wave, to wait for further
progress until
the next chain of worlds.
The
pupil who is able to take this initiation has therefore already
outstripped the majority of humanity to the extent of an entire round
of all
our seven planets, and in doing so has definitely secured himself
against the possibility of falling out of the stream in the
fifth round. He is consequently sometimes spoken of as “the saved” or “the safe one.” It is from a misunderstanding of this idea that there arises the curious
theory of salvation promulgated by a certain section of the Christian
community. The “æonian salvation” of which some of its documents speak is not, as has been blasphemously
supposed by the ignorant, from eternal torture, but simply from wasting
the rest of this æon or dispensation by falling out of its line of progress. This also
is the meaning, naturally, of the celebrated clause in the Athanasian
Creed, “Whosoever will be saved, before all things it is necessary that he
hold the catholic faith” (See The Christian Creed, p.91). The fetters which he must cast off before he can pass into the
next stage are:
1.
Sakkâyaditthi - the
delusion of self.
2.
Vichikichchhâ - doubt or uncertainty.
3.
Sîlabbataparâmâsa - superstition.
The
first of these is the “I am I” consciousness, which as connected with the personality is nothing but an illusion, and must be got rid of at the very first
step of the real upward path. But to cast off this fetter completely
means even more than this, for it involves the realization of the
fact that the individuality also is in very truth one with the All,
that it can therefore never have any interests opposed to those of
its brethren, and that it is most truly progressing when it most
assists the progress of others.
For
the very sign and seal of the attainment of the Sotâpatti level is the first entrance of the pupil into the plane next
above the mental - that which we usually call the buddhic. It may be - nay, it will
be - the merest touch of the lowest sub-plane of that stupendously exalted
condition that the pupil can as yet experience, even with his
Master’s help; but even that touch is something that can never be forgotten - something that opens a new world before him, and entirely revolutionizes
his feelings and conceptions. Then for the first time, by means
of the extended consciousness of that plane, he truly realizes
the underlying
unity of all, not as an intellectual conception merely, but
as a definite fact that is patent to his opened eyes; then
first he really
knows something of the world in which he lives - then first he gets some slight glimpse of what the love and compassion
of the great Masters must be.
As to
the second fetter, a word of caution is necessary. We who have been
trained in European habits of thought are unhappily so familiar with
the idea that a blind unreasoning adhesion to certain dogmas may
be claimed from a disciple, that or hearing that occultism considers doubt as
an obstacle to progress, we are likely to suppose that it also requires the
same unquestioning faith from its followers as modern
superstitions do. No idea could be more certainly false.
It is
true that doubt (or rather uncertainty) on certain questions is a
bar to spiritual progress, but the antidote to that doubt is not
blind faith (which is itself considered as a fetter, as will presently
be seen) but the certainty of conviction founded on individual experiment
or mathematical reasoning. While a child doubted the accuracy of
the multiplication table he would hardly acquire proficiency in the
higher mathematics; but his doubts could be satisfactorily cleared
up only by his attaining a comprehension, founded on reasoning or
experiment, that the statements contained in the table are true.
He believes that twice two are four, not merely because he has been
told so, but because it has become to him a self-evident fact. And
this is exactly the method, and the only method, of resolving doubt
known to occultism.
Vichikichchhâ has
been defined as doubt of the doctrines of karma and
reincarnation, and of the efficacy of the method of attaining the
highest good by
this path of holiness; and the casting off of this
Samyojana is the arriving at absolute certainty, based either upon
personal first-hand
knowledge or upon reason, that the occult teaching
upon these points is true.
The
third fetter to be got rid of comprehends all kinds of unreasoning
or mistaken belief, all dependence on the efficacy of outward rites
and ceremonies to purify the heart. He who would cast it off must
learn to depend upon himself alone, not upon others, nor upon the
outer husk of any religion.
The
first three fetters are in a coherent series. The difference
between individuality and personality being fully realized, it is
then possible
to some extent to appreciate the actual course of reincarnation,
and so as to dispel all doubt on that head. This done,
the knowledge of the spiritual permanence of the true ego gives rise
to reliance
on one’s own spiritual strength, and so dispels superstition.
II.
Sakadâgâmî. The pupil who has entered upon this second stage is spoken of as
a Sakridâgâmin - “the man who returns but once” - signifying that a man who has reached this level should need but
one more incarnation before attaining arahatship. At this step
no additional fetters are cast off, but the pupil is occupied
in reducing to a
minimum those which still enchain him. It is, however, usually
a period of considerable psychic and intellectual advancement.
If what
are commonly called psychic faculties have not been
previously acquired, they must be developed at this stage,
as without them it would be
impossible to assimilate the knowledge which must now
be given, or to do the higher work for humanity in which the
pupil is now privileged
to assist. He must have the astral consciousness at
his command during his physical waking life, and during sleep
the heaven-world will
be open before him - for the consciousness of a man when away from his physical body is
always one stage higher than it is while he is still
burdened with the house of flesh.
III.
Anâgâmi. The Anâgâmin (he who does not return) is so called because, having reached this
stage, he ought to be able to attain the next one in the life
he is then living. He enjoys, while moving through the round of his
daily work, all the splendid possibilities of progress given
by the
full possession of the priceless faculties of the heaven-world,
and when he leaves his physical vehicle at night he enters once more
into the wonderfully-widened consciousness that belongs to
the buddhi.
In this step he finally gets rid of any lingering remains of
the two fetters of
4.
Kâmarâga - attachment
to the enjoyment of sensation, typified by earthly love,
and
5.
Patigha - all
possibility of anger or hatred.
The
student who has cast off these fetters can no longer be swayed by
the influence of his senses either in the direction of love or hatred,
and is free from either attachment to or impatience of physical plane
conditions.
Here
again we must guard against a possible misconception - one with which we frequently meet. The purest and noblest human
love never dies away - is never in any way diminished by occult training; on the contrary, it is increased
and widened until it embraces all with the same fervour which
at first was lavished on one or two. But the student does in
time rise above
all considerations connected with the mere personality of those around him, and so is free from all the injustice and partiality
which ordinary love so often brings in its train.
Nor
should it for a moment be supposed that in gaining this wide
affection for all he loses the especial love for his closer friends.
The unusually
perfect link between Ânanda and the Buddha, as between S. John and Jesus, is on record to
prove that on the contrary this is enormously intensified; and the
tie between a Master and his pupils is stronger far than any earthly
bond. For the affection which flourishes upon the path of holiness
is an affection between egos, and not merely between personalities;
therefore it is strong and permanent, without fear of diminution
or fluctuation, for it is that “perfect love which casteth out fear.”
IV.
Arahat (the venerable, the perfect). On attaining this
level the aspirant constantly enjoys the consciousness of the buddhic
plane,
and is able to use its powers and faculties while still
in the physical body; and when he leaves that body in sleep or trance
he passes at
once into the unutterable glory of the nirvânic plane. In this stage the occultist must cast off the last remains
of the five remaining fetters, which are:
6.
Rûparâga - desire
for beauty of form or for physical existence in a form, even
including that in the heaven-world.
7.
Arûparâga - desire for formless life
8.
Mâno - pride.
9.
Uddhachcha - agitation or irritability.
10.Avijjâ - ignorance.
On this
we may remark that the casting off of Rûparâga involves not only getting rid of desire for earthly life, however
grand or noble that life may be, and astral or devachanic life,
however glorious, but also of all liability to be unduly influenced
or repelled
by the external beauty or ugliness of any person or thing.
Arûparâga -
desire for life either in the highest and formless planes of
the heaven-world
or in the still more exalted buddhic plane -would be merely a higher and less sensual form of selfishness, and
must be cast off just as much as the lower. Uddhachcha really
means “liability to be disturbed in mind,” and a man who had finally cast off this fetter would be absolutely
unruffled by anything whatever that might happen to him - perfectly impervious to any kind of attack upon his dignified serenity.
The
getting rid of ignorance of course implies the acquisition
of perfect knowledge - practical omniscience as regards our
planetary chain. When all the fetters are finally cast off
the advancing ego reaches the
fifth stage - the stage of full adeptship - and becomes.
V.
Asekha, “the
one who has no more to learn,” again as regards our planetary chain. It is quite impossible for us
to realize at our present level what this attainment means.
All the splendor of the nirvânic plane lies open before the waking eyes of the adept, while when
he chooses to leave his body he has the power to enter upon
something higher still - a plane which to us is the merest name. As Professor Rhys Davids
explains, “He is now free from all sin; he sees and values all things in this
life and their true value; all evil being rooted from his mind
he experiences only righteous desires for himself and tender
pity and
regard and exalted love for others.”
To show
how little he has lost the sentiment of love, we read in the
Metta Sutta of the state of mind of one who stands at this level: “As a mother loves, who even at the risk of her own life protects her
only son, such love let there be toward all beings. Let goodwill
without measure prevail in the whole world, above, below, around,
unstinted, unmixed with any feeling of differing or opposing interests.
When a man remains steadfastly in this state of mind all the while,
whether he be standing or walking, sitting or lying down, then is
come to pass the saying which is written, ‘Even in this life has holiness been found.’ “
CHAPTER
XVII
What
Lies Beyond
BEYOND
this period it is obvious that we can know nothing of the new qualifications
required for the still higher levels which yet lie before the perfect
man. It is abundantly clear, however, that when man has become Asekha
he has exhausted all the possibilities of moral development, so that
further advancement for him can only mean still wider knowledge and
still more wonderful spiritual powers. We are told that when man
has thus attained his spiritual majority, whether in the slow course
of evolution or by the shorter path of self-development he assumes
the fullest control of his own destinies and makes choice of his
future line of evolution among seven possible paths which he sees
opening before him.
Naturally
at our present level we cannot expect to understand much about these,
and the faint outline of some of them which is all that can be sketched
in for us conveys very little to the mind, except that most of them
take the adept altogether away from our earth-chain, which no longer
affords sufficient scope for his evolution.
One
path is that of those who, as the technical phrase goes, “accept Nirvâna.” Through what incalculable æons they remain in that sublime condition, for what work they are preparing
themselves, what will be their future line of evolution, are
questions upon which we know nothing; and indeed if information upon
such points
could be given it is more than likely that it would prove quite
incomprehensible to us at our present stage.
But
this much at least we may grasp - that the blessed state of Nirvâna is not, as some have ignorantly supposed, a condition of blank nothingness,
but on the contrary of far more intense and beneficent activity;
and that ever as man rises higher in the scale of nature his
possibilities become greater, his work for others ever grander
and more far-reaching,
and that infinite wisdom and infinite power mean for him only
infinite capacity for service, because they are directed by
infinite love.
Another
class chooses a spiritual evolution not quite so far removed
from humanity, for though not directly connected with the next chain
of
our system it extends through two long periods corresponding
to its first and second rounds, at the end of which time they also
appear
to “accept Nirvâna,” but at a higher stage than those previously mentioned.
Others
join the deva evolution, whose progress lies along a grand
chain consisting of seven chains like ours, each of which to them
is as
one world. This line of evolution is spoken of as the most
gradual and therefore the least arduous of the seven courses; but
though
it is sometimes referred to in the books as “yielding to the temptation to become a god.” it is only in comparison with the sublime height of renunciation of
the Nirmânakâya that it can be spoken of in this half-disparaging manner, for the
adept who chooses this course has indeed a glorious career
before him, and though the path which he selects is not the shortest,
it
is nevertheless a very noble one.
Yet
another group are the Nirmânakâyas - those who, declining all these easier methods, choose the shortest
but steepest path to the heights which still lie before them.
They form what is poetically termed the “guardian wall,” and, as The Voice of the Silence tells us, “protect the world from further and far greater misery and sorrow,” not indeed by warding off from it external evil influences, but by
devoting all their strength to the work of pouring down upon
it a flood of spiritual force and assistance without which
it would assuredly
be in far more hopeless case than now.
Yet
again there are those who remain even more directly in association
with humanity, and continue to incarnate among it, choosing
the path which leads through the four stages of what we have
called above
the official period; and among these are the Masters of Wisdom - those from whom we who study Theosophy have learnt such fragments
as we know of the mighty harmony of evolving Nature. But it
would seem that only a certain comparatively small number
adopt this course - probably only so many as are necessary
for the carrying on of this physical side of the work.
In hearing
of these different possibilities, people sometimes exclaim
rashly that there could of course be no thought in a Master’s mind of choosing any but that course which most helps humanity - a remark which greater knowledge would have prevented them from
making. We should never forget that there are other evolutions
in the
solar system besides our own, and no doubt it is necessary
for the carrying
out of the vast plan of the Logos that there should be adepts
working on all the seven lines to which we have referred. Surely
the choice
of the Master would be to go wherever his work was most needed - to place his services with absolute selflessness at the disposal
of the Powers in charge of this part of the great scheme of
evolution.
This
then is the path which lies before us, the path which each one of
us should be beginning to tread. Stupendous though its heights appear
we should remember that they are attained but gradually and step
by step, and that those who now stand near the summit once toiled
in the mire of the valleys, even as we are doing. Although this path
may at first seem hard and toilsome, yet ever as we rise our footing
becomes firmer and our outlook wider, and thus we find ourselves
better able to help those who are climbing beside us.
Because
it is at first thus hard and toilsome to the lower self, it
has sometimes been called by the very misleading title of “the path of woe;” but, as Mrs. Besant has beautifully written, “through all such suffering there is a deep and abiding joy, for the
suffering is of the lower nature, and the joy of the higher.” When the last shred of the personality is gone all that can thus suffer
has passed away, and in the perfected Adept there is unruffled peace
and everlasting joy. He sees the end toward which all is working,
and rejoices in that end, knowing that earth’s sorrow is but a passing phase in human evolution.
“That
of which little has been said is the profound content which comes
from being on the path, from realizing the goal and the way to it,
from knowing that the power to be useful is increasing, and that
the lower nature is being gradually extirpated. And little has been
said of the rays of joy which fall upon the path from loftier levels,
the dazzling glimpses of the glory to be revealed, the serenity which
the storms of earth cannot ruffle. To any one who has entered on
the path all other ways have lost their charm, and its sorrows have
a keeper bliss than the best joys of the lower world.” (Vâhan, vol. v., No. 12.)
Let
no man therefore despair because he thinks the task too great for
him; what man has done man can do, and just in proportion as we extend
our aid to those whom we can help, so will those who have already
attained be able in their turn to help us. So from the lowest to
the highest we who are treading the steps of the path are bound together
by one long chain of mutual service, and none need feel neglected
or alone, for though sometimes the lower flights of the great staircase
may be wreathed in mist, we know that it leads up to happier regions
and purer air, where the light is always shining.
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