In the Next World
( ACTUAL NARRATIVES OF
PERSONAL EXPERIENCES BY SOME WHO HAVE PASSED ON )
COMPILED AND ELUCIDATED BY
A. P. Sinnett
LONDON
THEOSOPHICAL PUBLISHING HOUSE
1 UPPER WOBURN PLACE, W.C. 1
Reprinted 1918
CONTENTS |
PAGE |
Introduction
|
7
|
G. R.’s Story
|
17
|
W. G.'s Experiences
|
27
|
A Wonderful Recovery
|
32
|
Experiences of H. S.
|
43
|
The Story of R. W.
|
49
|
J. P.’s
Story
|
54
|
"Bill Smith"
|
60
|
Introduction
Whether from the point of view of ordinary religious belief or from that reached
by theosophical teaching, most people look forward to some kind of life
hereafter, but are rarely enabled to frame conceptions of that life with any
degree of detail. And it not infrequently happens that when people who have
passed over get an opportunity, by the methods of ordinary mediumship, of
communicating back to friends in physical life, they seem mainly desirous of
reaffirming the familiar truth that to be happy hereafter one must be decently
well behaved in this life. The warning as a rule makes no deep impression on the
hearers, because no particular novelty surrounds the idea; In so far as it fails
with so many people to become a commanding motive of action, that is probably
due to the [end of Page #7] vague mist of
uncertainty that envelops all future conditions of existence. If people who pass
over would devote their efforts to giving us minute descriptions of the new
circumstances in which they find themselves, that would make a much deeper
impression on their friends here than can be produced by ethical sermons however
earnest, however inspired by new knowledge and genuine conviction.
I have been for some years past in the enjoyment of opportunities favourable for
getting free speech with friends who have passed over into the astral life. For
many reasons it is impossible for me to go into minute detail concerning the
circumstances under which these opportunities have arisen. For those who do not
know me, the narratives I am about to record may seem tainted by a fictitious
colouring, I can only say, for the benefit of those who do know me, and may
trust my word, that the stories in all cases are here passed on just as I have
received them, and are published in perfect good faith to meet what I hold to be
a very widespread desire for definite information concerning the actualities of
astral life.
Of course we must always remember that such astral life is not to be regarded as
a fulfilment of the karma in each case engendered on
[8] the physical plane. In all earlier theosophical teaching it was so
supremely important to establish, on a firm foundation, the great principle of
reincarnation, with its attendant doctrine of karma, that the intervening phases
of life on the astral and manasic planes were comparatively neglected, - with
the result, indeed, of giving rise to some misapprehensions in regard both to
the astral and devachanic conditions. Those of us who are the most earnest
students of theosophical teaching and best situated for carrying on such study,
are most fully appreciative of the insuperable difficulty of setting forth the
whole volume of complex law governing human evolution all at once.
We need not regret the omissions that were inevitable in the beginning. We need
not hesitate to welcome fresh information which fills up some of the gaps, even
though in some cases this may dissipate impressions too hastily formed when
information was incomplete.
As an introduction to the fragments of astral biography I propose now to give
out, I must set before the reader in fairly intelligible shape the constitution
of that vast region enveloping the earth that is referred to when we speak of
the astral plane. Many of its characteristics have been vividly described in
early theosophical [9] writings, but for the
purpose I now have in view it is desirable to remind the reader of the very
definite way in which it is divided into sub planes. (Sub-concentric spheres
would be a more appropriate phrase, but the usual term “plane” is more
convenient, though we should never forget that the whole astral region with all
its subdivisions is a huge concentric sphere surrounding the physical globe, as
much a definite appendage to it as the atmosphere, and carried with it in its
movement round the Sun.) A part of the great sphere is actually immersed or
submerged beneath the solid crust of the earth. That is a terrible region with
which only the very worst specimens of humanity have any concern, after passing
on from the physical life. Two sub-planes of the astral are thus under ground -
the first and second, numbering the series from below upward. The third lies
just above the surface of the earth, and is still a region of varied discomfort,
in which those whose personal characteristics are such as to require
purification before they are qualified for existence on any of the superior
regions, spend a time greatly varying in duration.
The fourth sub-plane is the first on which existence is altogether based upon
the sensation [10] of happiness, though its
experiences are themselves subject to very great variety. The higher regions
again are all conditions in which happiness is the background of consciousness,
but in which different mental and moral attributes find their appropriate
expression. Thus people in whom intellectual activity is the predominant
characteristic are naturally drawn to the fifth sub-plane, while the sixth,
affords scope for genuine devotional feeling if that is the predominant element
in any given character. And just because life on the higher levels of the astral
plane involves the principle that people are drawn together by their real
sympathies, - not as in physical life by karma, that often, down here, puts
people into close relations with antipathetic entities, - the seventh sub-plane
is a region to which those gravitate who have been in life rulers of men in one
way or another, not merely by high social rank, but by virtue of characteristics
that have given them sway over others either in industrial or political life.
Of course we must always remember that from the higher levels of the astral
plane it is possible for those belonging there to descend, at will, to any of
the lower. They do this constantly when desirous of observing what goes on here
on the physical plane. There is [11] thus much
freedom of intercourse among people on the higher levels of the astral world.
I must pause here to emphasise the idea that life on the higher levels of the
astral world is very much more than a transitory condition of preparation for
something higher on the manasic plane. That was the first notion we had about
astral existence, and it was defective in more ways than one, - not so much an
incorrect statement as an incomplete one. For large numbers of very good people
the astral life is little more than a transitory condition, not because they are
pre-eminently good, but because they may not combine with their goodness enough
intellectual capacity to be able to make use of the higher regions of the astral
world. Granting such intellectual capacity, people so endowed find it desirable
to stay for very protracted periods on the higher levels in question. The
devachanic state, in short, which at first was represented as the goal towards
which all people should aspire on passing over from the physical life, is really
a thoroughly happy state of dreamy inactivity, with intensely vivid sensations
of blissful emotion, but not one of either usefulness to others or individual
progress. There are large numbers, perhaps multitudes, of people at this
[12] stage of human evolution who are good
enough for the devachanic state and not advanced enough in other ways, for a
useful or progressive career on the higher levels of the astral. And to these
large numbers the earlier teaching applied quite accurately.
Does this statement conflict with a long familiar teaching to the effect that
all progress is accomplished in the earthly life; that the period intervening
between two earth lives is a period of rest; that it is not an opportunity for
further progress? That early teaching was not wrong, but was easily
misunderstood, It included, the reader may remember, the idea that karma could
still be made on the astral plane, though at first this idea was treated rather
as a warning than as an encouragement. But, properly understood, it operates
both ways. In truth, the complete view of the subject is that the life of causes
includes the astral as well as the physical life. If the astral life for people
of the (intellectually) humbler classes is just a period of waiting for idle
devachanic bliss, then it is best that no fresh causes should be engendered on
the astral plane. They might be detrimental. But consider for a moment the
condition of a truly great man of science, for instance. With the new
opportunities [13] afforded him in the astral
world he has boundless scope for the prosecution of study far beyond the
opportunities of physical life. Of course, he avails himself of these, and for
more reasons than one. To begin with, the interest of his enlarged opportunities
is intense. He could not endure the idea of turning away from them merely to
steep himself in "slumber's holy balm." And again - for such a man could not
fail to come into touch with the higher wisdom we call down here occult, - he
would know that the increasing knowledge he would be gaining, even though it
might not be specifically passed on to his next life, would engender enhanced
capacity for acquiring knowledge in the next life, and would not be in any sense
of the word thrown away.
This is how it comes to pass that, as a matter of fact, the higher levels of the
astral world are still, the home of all the great scientific men whose names
have decorated our intellectual history. They scorn the unprofitable enjoyments
of the devachanic state. At some period in the future they will have to pass on
to the manasic plane for the sake of effecting the complete union of all the
spiritual elements in their permanent egos which must precede reincarnation. But
there is no sort of hurry; [14] and again,
their touch with higher wisdom will enable them to know the right time at which
to "pass on" a second time, just as they unconsciously obeyed the impulse of an
unseen law when they "passed on" from mere physical existence.
That very rough sketch will suffice for the moment to render intelligible the
narratives of personal experience on the astral plane that I am in a position to
deal with.
I will begin with one that has to do with the after-‘death’(?) experiences of a
man with whom I had some touch in this life who had some tiresome
characteristics to work off in the beginning, but, as the reader will see, a
magnificent volume of spiritual karma in the background which ultimately found
complete expression. In this case I shall be able to give the story in his own
words, or nearly so. The conventions by which we are troubled in this life are
such that for public print one must exercise a certain reserve in describing
conditions that are the outcome, on the astral plane, of strong sexual feeling.
And here a word or two of preliminary explanation is perhaps desirable. Bad
karma of the kind that is distinctly related to the relationships of this plane,
can only, as a rule, be worked off or [15] find
expression on the physical plane in a later life following that in which it is
engendered; but where strong sexual feeling has been very imperfectly gratified,
and has remained a powerful force in imagination up to the period of a
comparatively early departure from this life, it is an impediment to upward
progress towards higher astral levels. This will be better understood as my
present work proceeds, and the subject may conveniently be reserved for later
treatment, with some of the stories I have to tell as its text.
I will call the subject of my first narrative G. R.
[16]
G. R.'s Story
I died at Hongkong a good many years ago, at about the age of thirty. I had
contracted the fever common in that region, and had only been ill a short time.
One evening in the dry hot weather, lying in bed heated and feverish, suddenly
something seemed to snap like the snapping of a piece of thread. All feeling of
malaise and general pain disappeared. I felt quite light. I tried to think what
had happened. I couldn't. Something like sinking asleep came, and I knew no
more. How long I remained so I do not know. Since then I have been told it was
about three weeks.
I remember slowly waking up. I appeared td be in a house very beautifully
furnished, situated near the sea. The climate was glorious. I came to myself
lying on what appeared to be a couch. I remember asking myself, "Can I be dead?"
Various ideas flitted into my mind. I turned my eyes round to look at the room,
[17] and found someone seated by me, a man
dressed in white, rather tall, with long hair, and eyes that seemed to shine
like living centres of light. He said: "My brother, you have left the physical
world; you are for the moment under my charge in my habitation." (The place, I
afterwards learned, was on the fifth sub-level of the astral plane.) He said,
"You have now to leave me and descend into lower forms of matter. There you will
remain for a time, after which you will be again restored to my charge until I
pass you on to those above me."
I could not grasp what was meant; all seemed so extraordinary. More than once I
thought I was dreaming. As he spoke, in a peculiar way the whole of the room, he
himself, and the view appeared to undergo an extraordinary change. They appeared
to become less and less clear in outline till at last they faded away. I was
conscious of a wonderful effect of coloured streams of light, then as these
faded away a strange feeling of dreariness came over me, of cold and drab
surroundings. I was lying on the ground, around me nothing but desert and huge
rocks. I was very miserable and lonely, and did not know what to do. The cold
feeling seemed to focus my thoughts. I moved; found I could move with great
freedom. I had no [18] sense of weight. I stood
up and gazed around. The sense of dreariness became more marked, and I asked
myself, "Where am I?" I saw no form, but I heard a voice reply, "You are under
my charge on the third level of the region beyond the physical." I saw no form.
The voice seemed to strike a chill through me.
Then of a sudden I seemed to be back in England, in London, drifting, floating
through the streets. At last I found myself in the neighbourhood of Leicester
Square, in the midst of a crowd all jostling one another.
[It is necessary here to condense, rather than to set down in his own words, my
friend's narrative. He describes himself as having been in life a man with a
very ardent feeling for the other sex, though with refined tastes and habits.
But he was now plunged in the midst of the coarsest manifestations of that
feeling. Without seeking the experience, he was drawn, sucked as it were, into
the consciousness of a man of very gross nature and habits, and shared, though
with loathing and disgust, his emotions as he gratified his desires. My friend
was irresistibly tied to this man for a long time, till at last, with a
horrified cry for help, he was enabled to break away, with a sense of
extraordinary relief. But he was still [19]
floating over London. I resume his narrative in his own words.]
What a wonderful sense of relief seemed to thrill through me when free from that
horrible embrace. I remember at that time floating over the Cafe Monico,
attracted by a swirling movement that seemed like a whirlwind to draw me into
it. I tried to resist the suction, but was drawn on down through what seemed a
funnel of smoke. I had no idea where I should land, but all of a sudden I found
myself in a clear atmosphere listening to the conversation of two men, one a
young fellow of about twenty, the other a man of forty-five or fifty, talking in
low tones. I could not hear exactly, but could feel an intense sensation of
anguish that seemed to emanate from the younger man. This was very intense, and
made me uncomfortable. Suddenly I heard the voice of the young man saying, "I
cannot face it, I can't. It is impossible." I had no idea as to what this
referred to, but could see that it was the cause of his miserable condition. The
young man rose hastily, put on his hat, took his coat over his arm, and quitted
the long low room. I was compelled to follow, and floated on behind him. For
some time he stood on the step hesitating; then made up his mind. I saw his
aura, till [20] then a mass of grey, become
dense, so that when I attempted to touch it, it was quite hard. I was compelled
to follow.
He called a cab and drove to some rooms near the Marble Arch. He entered the
house with a key, went upstairs, entered a back room, went straight to a drawer,
which he opened, and took out a revolver. I knew what he was about to do, and
horror ran through me. I could do nothing, but was rooted to the place. I saw
him take the revolver and look at it. Then he sat down at a table where there
were writing materials and began to write to his mother. When he had finished,
he folded and addressed the letter, and then put his hand on the revolver. At
this moment I was in a state difficult to describe. At all costs I must prevent
him, and I did not know what to do. My agony caused me to cry, "For God's sake,
stop!" At this moment he gave a start, crying out, "Who spoke?" He had heard me.
I tried to speak, but could not. Again he asked, "Who spoke?" I was suffering in
an extraordinary way, and said, "For God's sake, spare his life!" Then I was,
aware of a form standing by him that I have since known to have been that of the
Blessed Lord, the Holy Master. I shall never forget the calmness and peace that
[21] came over me in presence of the glorious
divine man. I thought it was an angel. I felt happy. All would be well. The Holy
One turned His eyes on me, and I felt a thrill through my whole being.
The young man in the meantime looked very startled, and put down the revolver on
the table again, and sat down, looking round. I felt rather than heard him say,
"Why can't I do it? I must. I can't face it." Then he took up the revolver
again, and a strange thing happened. The Master merely waved His hand in the
direction of the young man and a stream of light seemed to flow from His fingers
into the aura. Then I saw the astral form of the young man standing by the
Master. I did not then understand it, but have since learned that the Master had
drawn him out of the body.
The young man sobbed as if his heart would break, and then the Master put him
back into his body, which had fallen on the floor. He got up in a dazed sort of
way, and said, "Preserved by God Himself!" Then he put away the revolver, and
the whole scene faded away. I was again alone.
For a little time after that experience I seemed to be surrounded by a peculiar
cloud [22] which seemed to obscure my sense of
sight, a cloud of a reddish tinge; and it seemed to be drifting upon me, as far
as I could judge. I did not appear to be the origin of it myself, and became
conscious of an extraordinary sense of damp heat and that I was slowly drifting
I knew not whither. How long I drifted I know not, but at last I found myself in
a dense kind of fog. I became conscious of voices, at first dim and far off.
Also aware of an acute, uncomfortable sensation of choking. All of a sudden the
mist cleared away and I found myself in a room with a number of men and women.
[Now again I am constrained to condense the story. The scene was one of very
degraded debauchery.]
I saw foul shapes of an extraordinary order floating round the room, one exactly
like a large jellyfish. As it passed me it gave me an indescribable sensation of
disgust and horror. I prayed to be delivered from this wretched condition, and
then, to my astonishment, saw a figure approaching surrounded by an atmosphere
of beautiful blue. I t seemed to glide rather than walk. As it came near, my
horror vanished. Then I was taken by the hand, and the voice said, "Come with
me!" I could not [23] see the face of the
figure, but willingly followed. We appeared to go an immense way, and at last
arrived at what appeared to be a very rocky and desolate land. I was led upward
along a small valley or ravine, and at last reached a small log house. My guide
was behind, impelling me forward. The door of the hut opened, and I entered. I
turned round to look at him who had saved me, and it was . . . (one whom he
recognised as having known formerly in life). It was he who had brought me from
that loathsome scene. Shall I ever forget the deep gratitude in my heart for
what he had done for me! He smiled gently, and said: "My friend, I have been
permitted by my Master to help you. You must rest in this place for some little
time. Remain patient. Do not long for those scenes that I have relieved you
from." I thought at the time that was a strange remark, as I felt a powerful
loathing for the scenes I had just left. He read my thought, for he went on to
say: "You do not realise for the moment what this means, but those conditions
will again recur, and unless you put them from you your sufferings will
continue. I must leave you now, but remember that you are being guarded. You
will not be left alone. Farewell." [24]
He then vanished, and I was alone. So strange, so dreary were my surroundings
that I almost wept, and finally began to long for the warmth of those horrible
conditions in which I should not be so utterly alone. As my thought dwelt upon
them I heard a voice saying "Remember!" This changed the current of my thoughts,
and I realised very acutely that I must not think of those things. I was so
overcome, however, that I sank to the ground, weeping violently. I know not how
long this continued, but at last I felt someone touch my shoulder. I looked up.
It was my friend again, smiling sweetly and sympathetically. All he said was
"Come." I rose up, feeling strengthened, and followed him.
And thus the painful part of G. R.'s astral experiences came to an end. He, as I
said before, had great volumes of spiritual karma behind the unsatisfied
passions of his last life. Moreover, I am inclined to believe that the
disagreeable period described must have been to some extent traceable to
unfulfilled tendencies of earlier lives. When he was finally free of all this,
he ascended into lofty realms and came by degrees to play an important part in
the mighty work of the [25] Great White Lodge.
It is this development that has enabled him to survey the past experiences with
a clear vision and to give me the deeply interesting story I have just
reproduced. [26]
W. G.'s Experiences
I will now deal with another narrative of a very different order from the last.
In this case I have not been able to get quite so much detail as G. R., from his
present advanced point of view, was enabled to furnish. The person whose
experiences I have to relate (let me here call him W. G.) was not at a stage of
spiritual growth rendering possible, quite as yet, for him such definite occult
advancement as that ultimately reached by G. R. But, on the other hand, he was a
man of remarkably beautiful nature. He was an intimate friend of mine down here,
and I do not think I have ever known, in this life, a man so utterly free as he
was from any moral blemish. He was certainly one of the most unselfish men I
ever knew, amiable, simple, and modest to an unusual degree, and of a' warmly
affectionate nature. He died at an advanced age; about seventy-seven, I think.
His wife, to whom [27] he was devotedly
attached, was with him at the last.
Two or three years had elapsed since his passing when I had the opportunity of
getting into touch with him. I ought to explain that he had been in life
cordially appreciative of theosophical teaching, though he would never claim to
be a student, as his modesty of character made him rather inclined to underrate
his intellectual qualifications - not perhaps absolutely of a first-rate order,
but in no way defective. He was content to drift quietly through life doing his
duty, whatever that might be, and more than doing it when circumstances gave him
the opportunity of doing kindness to other people. The notes I have of my
conversations with him in reference to his after-death experiences do not enable
me to give the story actually in the first person, but, far from being
embellished as I shall present it, it must loose a good deal in condensation.
He remembered his deathbed quite well. He had long been ill, and faded away at
the end in utter weakness rather than in pain. He tells me he lay there very
happy, feeling borne up by the "rosy clouds" of his wife's love, and . . . fell
asleep. He woke, he does not know after what interval. It seemed to him
[28] at once; but of course we know that in all
such cases as this there is a period of unconscious rest on the astral plane
before the person passing on really awakes. The interval varies within very wide
limits, and may be estimated sometimes in hours of our time, sometimes in
months.
My friend woke finding himself lying on a couch in a beautiful room. He saw his
father and mother (who of course had passed over a great many years previously)
and others of his people standing round. Bringing over from his last stage of
consciousness the feeling that he was weak, he made an effort to get up, and
found that he was weak no longer. He got up and greeted his people, and asked
where was his wife? "Then, you know," he told me, "the door opened and she came
in;" [I have already said that his wife survived him, and of course the
explanation of her appearance was that higher powers interested in his happiness
arranged the moment of his waking to correspond with a period when his wife, on
this plane, was asleep, so that in the astral body she could visit her
husband.]. "All of a sudden she disappeared; but I have seen her frequently
since, and am very happy." He himself, he explained, was constantly
[29] "in her surroundings" on the physical
plane, and sent her through me ardent messages of affection. It was a beautiful
house, he told me, in which he was living, in company with many "very nice
people," but not people whom he had known in life down here. [This condition
illustrates a well-known fact connected with astral life on the higher levels,
where people are drawn together by natural sympathies, not, as with us down
below, by karmic ties that may not always represent harmonious relations. The
house, he told me, was a very fine place, "smothered in pictures." But these
puzzled him greatly, for as he looked at them the figures represented seemed
living, moving about, and yet when he touched them they were the same as the
surface of the wall. "I can't understand it," he said, using a phrase he had
often, in his intellectual modesty, repeated in physical life. I asked if he had
not seen any people he knew in life. "Oh, yes! I was out walking one time, or at
least it was not walking exactly but I was gliding along somehow in a delicious
way looking at things, all very interesting, when I saw someone coming that I
thought I knew, and it was . . ." - mentioning the name of one we both knew in
life who has passed on to very high levels of spiritual exaltation. "She had
[30] come down to pay me a visit, and I have
also been honoured by a visit from the Master."
At the time of this conversation my friend was simply reveling in the first
exhilarating sensation of happiness which was the natural background of his new
life, well up on the fourth sub-level of the astral plane. Even on that level
there are many varieties of condition, and I take it that he for many reasons
was in the enjoyment of some among the best. At a later date, about a year
later, I had another conversation with him, and found that he was partly on the
fifth sub-level, surrounded with books and "studying theosophy." He mentioned a
well-known man of science whose acquaintance he had made there. He frequently
came down on to the fourth sub-plane to visit old friends, and was beginning, I
gathered, to be set to work, sharing in that enormous volume of work undertaken
by all who are qualified, and not preoccupied by work of a still higher order, -
the task of soothing and encouraging people who come over from this life in
complete ignorance of all that appertains to the real truth of things, and are
at first frightened and bewildered even if they are not required by
circumstances to endure actual suffering. [31]
A Wonderful
Recovery
I will now attempt to give some idea of after-death experiences differing as
widely as the poles asunder from the case just described. Here again I myself
was acquainted in life with the person in question, and knew him to be tainted
with evil-doing of unusual intensity. Indeed, I had good reason to believe him
definitely enlisted in the service of evil - nothing more or less than a black
magician. He was about the last person I should have thought of as likely to be
brought to speak to me through the channel which, during the last few years, has
been made use of to keep me in relation with the occult world. But, to my
immense surprise, he was so brought on one occasion under conditions that I must
stop for a moment to explain.
The method of communication referred to was mainly designed in the first
instance to keep me in touch with the great Master to
[32] whom I am especially attached, and with others of the White Lodge;
but it is used, as the stories I have already told will have shown, to provide
for intercourse with friends who have passed on and other inhabitants of the
astral world. For it is possible for certain persons belonging to the White
Lodge, whom I may describe as lieutenants of the Masters, to bring any astral
entity willing to come, for a talk with me; and more than this, to bring the
Higher Self of a living person with whom I have been able this way in some cases
to communicate, while the person concerned has actually been awake on the
physical plane. In other cases, when the person concerned has been asleep and
out of the body in the astral vehicle, it has been the personality itself that
has been brought.
On the occasion referred to above, it was the actual personality of my dark
acquaintance, still then living (M. N. let me call him), who spoke to me, to my
no little amazement. And he spoke without the least disguise of his true
character. I expressed my surprise as soon as he enabled me to identify him. He
chuckled, if I may use that word to convey an idea of his mental attitude, and
said he had come to "torture me for a bit." He knew, of course, that I knew how
seriously he had injured some friends of [33]
mine, and I gathered that he had plans in view for inflicting further injuries
on one of them, and proposed to amuse himself by sketching out his plan. I
scoffed at him, declaring that he could only have come by permission of my
loftier friends, and that he was perfectly powerless to hurt me. He laughed in
turn, and said he had come because he chose to come, to talk to me about her
whom he supposed I should call his victim. To that term I agreed, as I looked
upon him as altogether evil. This view he quite complacently accepted, claiming
to represent "the Devil." I used very contemptuous language, calling him a fool
for his pains, who was earning disastrous consequences for himself in the
long-run. All that he ridiculed as "Sunday-school prattle," and was going on to
say something else when he suddenly broke off: "What was that I was going to
say? It has all been wiped out of my mind!" He went on repeating this idea with
increasing irritation. I told him the experience was clearly a lesson to show
him that he was powerless in the hands of the Great Adepts. Immediately
afterwards he was gone.
One of my occult friends (of the order I have described as "lieutenants" of the
Masters) then told me that the black visitor had been brought
[34] by him in accordance with the Master's
direction, for the sake of the lesson he had just received, which might have a
startling effect; and indeed the Master himself afterwards told me it might be
the first step for him in an upward progress.
I thought no more about the matter for some long while, but about a year and a
half later I learned that the man in question had died, at a date some four or
five months later than that of the interview I have described. And he had died
altogether in the odour of sanctity, so to speak! He had undertaken a work of a
painfully self-sacrificial nature, had dazzled with admiration all who were
cognisant of his doings, and had finally lost his life, though only in early
middle age, in pursuance of his very ghastly, self-imposed duty. It was all
utterly bewildering, and I need hardly say that I sought for an explanation of
the mystery.
The development now reached was profoundly touching. He himself was
brought to me again, and our conversation was indeed different from the last. He
asked at first for a few moments to recover. I am unwilling to repeat the whole
of the conversation in detail, as that would disclose his identity for some who
may read these lines in a manner which is perhaps undesirable. What he told me
was in substance [35] to this effect: After
returning to the body from the previous interview he had with me, the influences
that had then been brought to bear upon him had had the effect of evoking a
mysterious change. He somehow seemed to realise the horror of the life he had
been leading. He resolved to change its entire course; to devote himself
thenceforward to the service of humanity instead of to that of the black powers
with whom till then he had been working. He had been in that terrible service
for a long series of lives. He now undertook a task of so desperately trying a
nature that he knew it would involve the ultimate sacrifice of his own life
under very painful conditions. He carried it through to the end, and then faced
the after-death consequences of the long career of evil-doing in which he had
been immersed. This meant a period of suffering on the second submerged plane of
the astral world. He gave me an awful account of the torments he was undergoing.
He was in the dim lurid light of the underworld, surrounded by horrible
elemental shapes or creatures of the most loathsome aspect who were attacking
him fiercely. He had lost all sense of time, but this seemed to have been going
on for what seemed an eternity. But he realised his suffering to be an expiation
that [36] had to be borne. He was dauntless in
the courage with which he faced it. The wonderful strength of his character that
had made him, till then, so powerful a force on the black side, now took the
shape of a tenacious resolution to bear whatever might befall him without
flinching or turning aside from the determination that he would at last set his
foot on the first rung of the ladder leading to the spiritual heights of the
White Lodge. He rejoiced in the brief interlude that his present visit to me
afforded, but was going back to the awful region he had described to me with
unwavering bravery.
This interview took place, as far as I could make out, about a year and a half
after his physical death, and I have since learned that it marked the moment of
his actual release from the underworld. His stay there would not have wiped out
the awful karma of his black magic lives if it had not been for the fact of his
genuine repentance in physical life and his many months of painful
self-sacrifice voluntarily incurred. The experience was abnormal in all ways.
Leaving black magicians out of account, the karma that leads to any contact with
the terrible "second" sub-plane of the astral is exceptional in its character. I
have said already [37] in general terms that it
is only the very worst specimens of humanity that have anything to do with this
dreadful region after death, but that statement does not cover the whole ground.
Human characters are often complicated in their constitution. A man may have a
great deal of good in his nature blemished by some abominable characteristics,
and one above all is calculated to give the person so affected a period of
suffering on the second sub-level. The characteristic to which I refer is,
cruelty, - cruelty during life on the physical plane. The principle will be
readily intelligible. The most beautiful human emotion is love; the behaviour in
life which that emotion prompts is benevolence, kindness to others, sympathy,
and all the varieties of that characteristic. When the love principle is missing
from the nature the result may be callous indifference to suffering in others,
sometimes leading to acts of positive cruelty. Then just as active love is a
force, leading to blissful conditions of astral existence, active cruelty leads
to a glimpse of, or a more protracted sojourn on the terrible second sub-level.
I shall have to amplify that explanation with examples later on, but for the
moment it is enough to enunciate the idea in its broad aspects.
[38]
As I indicated above, M. N. was much nearer release from the awful conditions of
the submerged level at the time of his second interview with me than he
imagined. Some time after I heard of his release, I was enabled to get touch
with him again, so that I might hear from himself how he was getting on. He told
me he was then on the fourth sub-plane, and had joined a sort of community - he
described it as a monastery - the brothers of which were engaged in the effort
to concentrate their thoughts into a force that could be used by higher powers
for the benefit of humanity. He was happy now in performance of this task.
Before going on with the record of other experiences, this may be a suitable
time for giving some explanation of the conditions under which the terrible
regions of the underworld are governed. The wild caricature of these regions
embodied in ecclesiastical theology assumes that "hell" is governed by the
Devil, who takes a delight in torturing his victims. This is so grotesque a
perversion of the truth that one cannot easily understand how even the moderate
intelligence guiding ecclesiastical thought can have been content with the
theory. Clearly if there is a region of existence designed to be a region of
suffering, where suffering has [39] a purifying
purpose, that region must be ruled by divine will, not by any diabolical agency
reveling in cruelty for its own sake. In reality the regions of suffering are
confided to the rule of a Being of infinite sublimity, goodness, mercy, and
love. They constitute the mighty reformatory of the world, and the Being who
rules them is spoken of by the great Masters of Wisdom themselves with deep
reverence and admiration. For the stupendous duty in question would never have
been imposed by divine will on any being qualified to undertake it. Its
acceptance was a voluntary act of the most unparalleled self-sacrifice. He who
undertook it is known in the occult world as "Melan." He belongs to an order of
super-adepts spoken of by those who still use the beautiful old term "Brothers"
for the Masters of the White Lodge, as "the Fathers." Incarnate imagination
cannot go far in the direction of comprehending the conditions of existence, or
the functions in nature of the Fathers, but we may assuredly assume it to be a
condition of some supreme beatitude. It was from that condition, because it was
necessary that some qualified being should perform the duty, that Melan
descended to rule the regions of suffering. [40]
I do not suggest that even there he can in any way share the suffering, but, for
a being filled by nature with love and sympathy to be the constant witness of
it, in a certain sense the agent for its infliction, even though divine wisdom
enables him to appreciate its purifying purpose, must mean a state of
consciousness that cannot be far removed from pain.
Besides the two submerged levels, the third, immediately in contact with the
earth's surface, is included in Melan's realm. The lower of the two submerged
levels is hardly if at all connected with human experience. It is chiefly a
region of strange elemental life of a kind that we should regard as horrible if
we had any contact with it, but I have learned next to nothing more about it.
Something has already been said above concerning the second level (in connection
with the experiences of M. N.), but the third requires much fuller treatment. It
is, of course, extremely varied in its aspects. Its worst conditions are very
dark and wretched. I use the word "worst" in preference to "lowest" because the
lowest in the spatial sense is that part immediately in touch with the physical
earth's surface, and people who cannot get away from the physical surroundings
to which they have been used in life are uncomfortable
[41] certainly, but not so badly off as others also entangled with the
conditions of level number three. We shall get glimpses of what such
entanglements mean as we go on with the records I have been enabled to collect.
[42]
Experiences of H. S.
The beautiful "passing" of my friend W. G. might without doubt be paralleled by
many other examples of similar experience. Happily, at the present stage of
human evolution there must be large numbers of people who lead thoroughly good
lives and wake up on delightful regions of the astral, where they may soon be
eager to express the idea that W. G. conveyed to me in the course of his talk: -
"I wouldn't be back in the body for anything." But I have been seeking, in the
course of the inquiries I have been privileged to carry on, for examples of
astral experience that convey some more varied lessons than the simple old truth
that good lives here lead to happy conditions hereafter. Thus while there may be
a good deal of shadow in some of the stories I am going on to tell, these need
not have a discouraging effect on the minds of my readers generally. There will
be more to say on that subject [43] later, but
I have now to describe some astral lives involving a good deal of what may be
called purgatorial experience. Let me reserve comment on this purgatorial aspect
of astral life till I have an appropriate text in the shape of the story I now
want to relate.
This has to do with the astral life of a man who was a close personal friend of
my own in physical life. He was an older man than myself, and passed on more
than twenty years ago from the time at which I am writing. He was a man of great
personal charm, attractive in every way, mentally brilliant, and good-looking to
correspond. Under those conditions, and filled with an intense interest in and
desire for the opposite sex, the results were remarkable and striking, to say
the least. Don Juan (of the poem), I used sometimes to think, with his two or
three simple love adventures, had an almost ascetic record compared to that of
my friend, "H. S." let me call him.
The consequences to him on the astral plane after he passed over were not such
as to encourage us to think lightly of tendencies along the line referred to. H.
S. woke after the usual interval, and found himself in what
[44] seemed liked the lounge of a great hotel,
or the entrance-hall of a large club. It was pervaded by a reddish-yellow light.
At first he had no particular sense of discomfort, but presently he saw coming
in and out of the room a number of nude female forms. These evoked passionate
desire, but if he attempted to reach them they receded or disappeared. This went
on for a terrible length of time. On one occasion he was endeavouring to pursue
some female form down what seemed a long corridor. It narrowed and narrowed
until it seemed like a pipe down which he was being propelled. It was a terrible
nightmare feeling. Then he seemed shot out into space, and found himself in a
room where there was a man, and a woman of the prostitute order. He was
partially drawn into the vortex of their feeling, but the room seemed filled
with red fumes that gave him a strange sensation of reaction and disgust. Then
he was back again in the lounge, and everything went on as before, crowds of
unclothed figures all about. At one time a voice seemed to address him, saying:
"Son, you will never get satisfaction that way; shut your soul's eye and you
will get relief." But he could not do this. Years went on and he suffered
acutely. [45]
His experience, illustrated in a remarkably vivid way the principle that the
astral body is the real seat of those desires we are in the habit of thinking
about as the desires of the flesh. The appreciation of this truth may indeed in
some cases be carried to excess. During incarnate life certain desires are in
harmony with Nature's design. They leave no indelible traces on the astral
vehicle unless they are allowed to dominate life and thought to an excessive
degree. As in so many other ways, moderation is the keynote of health. It is
almost as definitely possible to overdo asceticism as to overdo self-indulgence.
But the astral vehicle of H. S. was no doubt over-saturated with sexual desire,
and it was by a very slow course of suffering that this unhealthy state of
things was counteracted. Eventually one of those whom I may describe as
lieutenants of the Masters got into touch with H. S., and helped him to escape
from the tantalising torments to which he had been so long subject. Of course by
that time he had become intensely desirous of escaping, or else the rescue could
not have been accomplished. As it was, he was so dealt with that the room that
had been so long the scene of his purgatory began to look shadowy. It was still
filled with the [46] forms of women; but though
they clutched at him and tried to keep him down, he shrank from them and felt
himself floating upward. He seemed to hear a sound, something like a gong, and
then! - all the previous conditions had disappeared and he found himself in a
rocky desert alone. The first feeling was "awful," but presently he saw the one
who had helped him, who told him to come along, that he was ready. "He held my
hand," H. S. told me; and "life seemed to pour into me. We floated along. At the
end of a valley we came out into a beautiful country." He had, in fact, been
lifted out of the third level on to the fourth.
The new influence gradually worked on him and created a revulsion of feeling, a
disgust for the emotions that had previously controlled him. He remembers having
been alone for a time. Then he came more definitely into touch with former
friends who had already become established on higher levels, and so by degrees
into the companionship of entities belonging to the White Lodge. During life he
had known something of occult teaching, and the effect of this blossomed forth
when he had struggled through the embarrassments of sexual passion. Now, of
course, for many years [47] he has been engaged
in loftier pursuits, and on the usual task of helping other people coming up
from the lower world, and needing such help as his own experiences enable him to
give. [48]
The Story of R. W.
I now approach a very difficult task, that of describing the after-death
experiences of a lady who was brought to talk to me in response to a wish on my
part to get speech with someone whose story would be a feminine pendant to that
of my friend H. S., a woman whose life had been in a pre-eminent degree coloured
by strong sexual passion.
Let me again emphasise the idea that, exhaled within the limits of any
reasonable, moderation, no bad karma whatever attaches to the exercise of
natural functions, nor even to the intense enjoyment of these as associated with
genuine love, of which indeed they are the almost inevitable expression on the
physical plane of life. I might go even further than this if called upon to
write an essay on the relations of the sexes, so grievously mismanaged under the
influence of various delusive conventions, especially in this country. But some
[49] fundamental laws may be recognised in
connection with all problems of this nature; firstly, that selfish pleasure,
sought at the expense of incidental suffering to another, engenders bad karma of
an unequivocal character, the effects of which will colour the next physical
life, while, independently of that, desires innocent in themselves, may be
exaggerated in their intensity and allowed to dominate a whole life to such an
extent that they are shed with very great difficulty on the astral plane after
the death of the physical body. The process of shedding them may be so painful
and protracted, as the story I have just been dealing with shows, that an
account of it in any particular case reads like the description of a punishment;
but that would not be a correct reading of it. The consequences of evil-doing on
the physical plane, which have to be regarded, from one point of view, as its
penalty, are worked out on the physical plane again in the next life. The
intervening period is one the conditions of which ought to reflect the better
side of the life just spent, rather than its worst. But for that better side to
express itself the entity must not be weighed down by characteristics
incompatible with existence on the higher levels of the astral world. It cannot
[50] get up to those higher levels till free of
the characteristics which belong exclusively to the earth-life. That is how it
comes to pass that the entity is entangled with thought-forms on the third
level, in the way H. S. was entangled, till that group of desires has been worn
out.
I will go on now with the narrative I was enabled to obtain from the lady who,
as I put it above, was a counterpart, on the feminine side, of my friend H. S.
She remembered her death, which she struggled against. Felt herself pushed out
of her body, and saw it die. Sank into a state of unconsciousness, and
afterwards woke feeling very unhappy. She found herself surrounded by a dull red
light, and saw male forms around in all directions. This sight roused the old
desires with intensity. She rushed towards them, but they receded. I must leave
a good deal here to the imagination of the reader. Fiercely craving for
satisfaction, she found herself drawn into an eddy or swirl which drew her into
the neighbourhood of a soldier and girl in Hyde Park. She threw herself into the
girl's aura. The girl had been somewhat reluctant, but now gave herself up to
the man. . . .
Desire seemed to burn her like acid on the skin. I cannot follow the painful
story in all [51] details. She was fearfully
tormented by thought-forms of a horrible character, the creation of her
imagination during life. These at last provoked a feeling of abhorrence. She
found herself alone in a rocky desert, utterly miserable. Eventually she was
addressed by a tall black figure who told her she was in his charge, but that it
rested with her to determine how long she would remain on these levels of
misery. He asked, did she wish to escape from these tormenting desires? She
could only gasp out an entreaty to him to "get her out of this." He said: "It is
well; follow me; the way is long, but if you obey you will find a path that will
lead you away. As soon as I depart you will be again tormented by the
personifications of your old desires. They will seem real; they will attempt to
seduce you. Bear in mind that they cannot, if your desire for freedom remains.
Hold fast to that." Then she found herself surrounded by red flowers, red
grass, red everything, and men were there saying "Come!" etc. But she resisted.
Melan again appeared, saying, "It is well. Rest and recover!" Then he touched
her forehead, and a wave of peace seemed to flow over her. Then she saw a lovely
woman in white, who smiled on her and took her in her arms.
[52] She floated up, and attained some region
of bliss; a lovely garden, where she was filled with a new sense of life and
cleanliness.
This must, of course, have been some level of the fourth sub-plane, and thither
she now returns at will; but she has devoted herself to work on the lower
planes, where she endeavours to help those whom she misled in life.
I cannot ascertain exactly how long the suffering period lasted, but believe it
must have been for several years of our time. [53]
J. P.'s Story
The astral life with which I will now proceed to deal was one which I sought to
investigate because it was that of a man who led an utterly commonplace life,
concerned merely with the ordinary amusements of a man-about-town, with racing,
games, and club life generally. There was nothing that I knew of conspicuously
wrong in his behaviour, but he was a man who probably never gave a thought to
interests of a higher order than those of the physical plane, and my valued
friend G. R. found him for me about a year after his passing over, and brought
him along for a talk.
He was very glad to find himself in a position to talk freely with someone on
the physical plane. He identified himself with joyful readiness, and addressed
me by name, vividly remembering all about his life just spent. "I am not happy,"
he told me. I [54] will proceed to give his
story, as far as I can, in his own words, hurriedly noted at the time of our
interview, and freely interlarded with the harmless swear words he was wont to
strew about his conversation with liberal abundance.
"I am still haunting that damned club, bored to death." I asked what were his
first recollections. "I remember being awfully confused at first; couldn't
realise that I was dead. You know I died rather suddenly; some sort of fit, I
believe the doctors called it. Then I know I had a sort of sleep for a time, and
when I woke I was in one of those big armchairs at the club. One of those near
the fire, you know, in the smoking-room. Then, damned if some fellow did not sit
down right on top of me, or through me! It was that beastly fat old colonel who
used to play billiards. The old fool said, "What a draught; shut the door! "
There wasn't any draught. I went to the billiard-room, and wanted to play, but
if I tried to take up a cue it slipped through my fingers. I looked on sometimes
at all of you having lunch or dinner. I wanted to join in, but it was no good.
If I got hold of anything, it all went to nothing in my fingers, like one of
those damned [55] pastry-cook's puffs with
nothing inside. I wanted a cut off the joint."
In life, of course, he had been quite unable to take a serious view of the
subjects with which he knew I was concerned,
and now he felt how much better it might have been for him if he had been able.
But he went on to explain how he had been just now addressed by someone he did
not know. "Who the devil are you?" he asked, and the person asked him to come
along and have a talk with me. "You're the first person I've met," he said, "who
has given me an intelligible answer." He was then brought to me, and was utterly
bewildered as to how it was that he found himself talking to me. I endeavoured
to explain as far as it was possible to make him understand, giving him good
advice as to how he could get clear of the club and aspire towards superior
conditions in the new world of which he had just touched the threshold, and
recommended him to seek out a certain person whom we both knew in life, another
member of our club, who had passed on two or three years before. This friend had
a mind a good deal better open to serious ideas than J. P., as I will call him,
but none the less was worried for a time at not being able to get away from the
club, where he had spent much [56] of his
waking life. J. P. did not know what to do in order to find R. N., as I will
call him, but I told him to think of R. N. intently, and that would attract his
attention.
Meanwhile he went on to tell me that some mysterious person had, on one
occasion, shown him an awful sight - something that looked like a huge pit; and,
looking down, he saw horrid reptiles, scorpions, and great octopuses, and he was
told he had had the good luck to escape going down there "by a hairs breadth."
He shuddered. "Ten minutes down there would have knocked me silly." Referring to
his life on this plane, he said, "I was an empty sort of numskull, but I played
the game; had some sense of honour; but when is this wheel going to stop? I'm
about fed up with it; I don't want to go back to that damned club."
I again told him to look out for R. N., and suddenly he called out, "Why, there
is R. N.," using a nickname by which he was known to his intimates.
Then R. N. spoke to me, telling me he was now on a happy level of the fourth
sub-plane, and would look after J. P. He asked me to explain something that
puzzled him. His memory, he thought, must be getting confused,
[57] because he began to have vague thoughts
about Rome, as though he were somebody else besides himself. I explained, of
course, that he was probably getting some clairvoyant recollections of a former
life, and he quite appreciated the idea. I asked about his present surroundings.
They were very pleasant. He seemed to be living in a house that was just exactly
the kind of house he used to picture in imagination as the ideal house he would
like to have. Of course this was a pleasant kind of thought-form he had
unconsciously created. He also said he was beginning to have a curious sort of
feeling, as though he were getting lighter. It was quite a pleasant feeling, and
he thought he had been told that it betokened some impending change that would
involve his translation to some superior condition. His house was a
country-house with gardens and flowers, grass and trees, though they did not
seem to want any attending to. He spent a great deal of time in the garden,
thinking pleasantly of bygone times, and visited by people he had known-his
father and mother amongst them. The time just glided by. There was no night, no
sense of being tired. He had no wants.
He wound up by again promising to look after J. P., who, I was glad to think,
having [58] "played the game" and cultivated a
sense of honour, would now be set free from the boredom he had been so long
enduring, and would find any level of the fourth sub-plane far more agreeable a
region to inhabit than even Pall Mall. [59]
"Bill Smith"
I had been wishing to get an authentic account of the passing to the next state
of existence of someone representing the humbler classes. This wish was met by
one of my loftier friends, who contrived to bring along an ex-costermonger
[1],
whose account of himself was intensely amusing as well as instructive in its
way. And it confirms a brief experience I had a good many years ago, when a
highly gifted psychic of my acquaintance endeavoured, for my information, to get
a glimpse of life on a low level of the astral, plane, and (so to speak) ran up
against an ex-coalheaver, who was found still hanging about the poor dwelling in
which he had lived, with the vague idea that he was still smoking his pipe
there. He must have been a harmless creature, as he did not seem to be suffering
in any way, simply passing a sleepy, idle existence for many years, after which
no doubt he would have been helped up to the [60]
lower levels of the fourth, and eventually to some rather colourless variety of
the devachanic state, in preparation for a new birth.
My new acquaintance spoke with the same sort of phraseology that he was used to
in life of the physical order. I wish I could give every word of his own as he
told his story, but my notes do not enable me to do this completely. I shall
endeavour to do so as nearly as I can.
He gave me his name as "Bill Smith." He had been a costermonger with a
donkey-cart somewhere down Commercial Road way. "Small profits, you know, and
quick returns." At about thirty he married -"to make an honest woman" of the
girl. They led a respectable sort of life in a couple of rooms and had "ten
kids." "I was a hardworking sort of chap, but fond of beer. I did not mess up
things badly." Then he died of some fever that was prevalent in the Commercial
Road at the time, and hardly seems now able to identify the actual period of his
translation to another plane of life. He only knows that he had "a rotten time."
He seemed more or less in the dark, but he could hear people talking. He had a
great thirst upon him. It is impossible to make out how long this condition
lasted, but eventually he was addressed "by some chap
[61] who called him by name - Yes, Bill
Smith, that's me!" His new acquaintance told him that he would be happier if he
left off wanting beer. "Can't do it, governor!" "I'll help you," he said; "you
want to get clear of that thirst, don't you?" "All right, governor." "Then
come along with me." Then he took Bill to some place where "S'help me bob,
there were a lot of people sitting round a table singing hymns. Then they began
praying. That wasn't much in my line, but there were a lot of people there like
myself. There was one old chap at the table with white whiskers. He seemed a bit
of all right. Someone told me to go up and stand behind him, and when I did that
I felt just as if I was sucked down a drain-hole. Then I found I was talking
through the old man and asking for beer. Then an old woman began talking to me
like a Dutch clock. She did read me a lecture! She said, 'We'll pray, for you.
We'll help you to get rid of that desire for drink. You say after me, "I don't
want any drink."' I said it to oblige her, and somehow I began to feel better.
Then she made me say it three times over, and S'help me bob, I didn't feel any
more desire for the beer. Then I saw the man that brought me, and he said, 'Come
along!' and we floated away right [62] over
Canning Town, where I used to live, till we came to a nice little house like a
country cottage with a garden. 'You
stop here,' he said; but I said, 'I can't afford to live in a place like
this.'"
I must finish the story in other words than those Bill employed, as my notes do
not enable me to recover them exactly. He was soon enabled to realise the
situation, saw his old father and mother, who came to visit him, themselves
apparently a little further on; and later, one of his sons came, a boy who, at
about the age of fourteen, had been killed in a motor-car accident, and in
advance of his father had reached a somewhat higher level.
One thought in connection with this little story which the reader should not let
slip, has to do with the humble spiritual seance held in the far eastern region
of London by the good people exerting themselves for the benefit of the poor
"spirits" who were attracted to their circle. In the realms of poverty it would
seem that in more ways than one - on more planes than one - the poor are the
most sympathetic and helpful friends of the poor. [63]
M. M.'s Wonderful Narrative
I must now go on to deal with a story replete with the utmost pathos, whether we
pay attention to its physical plane beginnings or its astral conclusion. It is
profoundly instructive, in my estimation, in more ways than one, for it is a
life of utter degradation as regards its physical prelude, and of beautiful
exaltation in the long-run. It was a female life on earth, and I will call my
poor heroine M. M.
She was born the daughter of lower middle-class people in a country town, small
shopkeepers; narrow-minded, devout Methodists. As a young girl she began to be
troubled with intense sexual desire. The conventions of modern literature
prevent me from going into minute detail concerning the way these feelings
worked, but it is easy to understand how, under the circumstances, she became at
a very early age the prey - the eager prey, so to [64]
speak - of a young man in her own class. And the natural consequences followed.
When her condition was discovered by her parents, the father actually and
literally kicked her out of the house at night, telling her to go to the Devil,
her master! The behaviour of this horrible wretch is a wonderful illustration
of the brutality that can coexist with the stupid bigotry of a religious
fanatic. That man's crime in so treating his unhappy daughter was responsible,
by all commonplace reasoning, for the degradation she
ultimately sank into. Nor indeed do the mysteries of karma, in this case, which
inevitably condemned the poor girl to a life of suffering, relieve the father in
the smallest degree from the guilt of his cruelty; but we may look into that
matter later on.
The hapless outcast, after vainly battering for a time at the door in the hope
of gaining readmittance, wandered vaguely on and sank down at last exhausted on
a doorstep. There a policeman spoke to her, and took pity on her; took her to
his own little home, where his wife gave her shelter, and next morning sent her
off by train to London.
She had no money to speak of. After paying her railway fare she had three
shillings left. Turned out on to the bleak hospitalities
[65] of King's Cross, she wandered on at random
up the Pentonville Road apparently, - and came to some place where there were
market stalls in the street. Leaning up tired against one of these, the rough
man in charge asked her what was the matter, and she told her pitiful tale. Here
again we have an example of the touching way in which the poor help the poor.
The man took her home to his wife, who actually befriended her to the extent of
keeping her with them over her confinement. One can imagine how that good
costermonger - doubtless fond of his beer, like "Bill Smith," and free with his
language - would have been scorned by M. M.'s Methodist father, only worthy
himself to lie in the mud under the other man's barrow.
M. M.'s child died, fortunately enough. She did what she could when she
recovered to help the woman with her work, and tried to lead a straight life,
but found no opening for earning money. Then she fell in with some man who took
her to a Music Hall and afterwards to some place to have supper. She must have
been drugged in some way, for she remembers no more than that she found herself
on coming round in a strange house, in bed. . . .
Needless to explain the kind of house it was,
[66] M. M. had been enlisted in the
great army of white slavery. She was pretty, and still of course ridiculously
young, about sixteen or seventeen, I make out - a valuable recruit for her
captors. She was nicely dressed and sent out into the streets. After a while she
had the good fortune, so to speak, of attracting the fancy of a gentleman she
met, who took charge of her and gave her a little establishment of her own
somewhere in St John's Wood. This interlude seems to have been the happiest
period of her brief and troubled life on the physical plane. But it came to an
end, as such arrangements always do. Her protector had to go abroad. He gave her
a hundred pounds at parting, and with this little capital behind her she made
desperate efforts to get some sort of honest work by which she could live. But
all in vain. She had no "references" to give, no character, and so eventually in
despair she plunged back again into the mad vortex of fast life.
By degrees she took to drink; found herself tainted with "the hidden plague";
was in hospital for a time. Then one night in Piccadilly she was spoken to by a
lady, who asked her to come to a missionary meeting. She was not particularly
eager, but went in a [67] spirit of curiosity.
There she had a curious experience. A clergyman was speaking, and she saw a
light round him and at the back of him a face looking at her with pitying
tenderness. She believed it to be the face of Jesus, and she felt stabbed to the
heart, but rushed away to her own room and took refuge in whisky.
Recovering in the morning from her drunken sleep, she felt her heart broken.
That night, after wandering about, she found herself at the corner of Wellington
Street and the Strand. An ungovernable impulse came over her to end it all. She
went on to the middle of Waterloo Bridge and flung herself over.
She remembers well the bitter cold of the water, the suffocation of
drowning, and the vain longing to be back again, even in the misery from which
she had tried to escape. Then began an extraordinary and terrible experience.
She had passed through the change called death, but found herself back again on
the bridge. Again she went through the wild desperation of her suicide, repeated
all its experiences. Again threw herself into the river, again went through the
sensation of drowning, sank into brief unconsciousness and then repeated the
whole ghastly cycle of suffering. [68] So it
went on for what seemed an eternity. I am told the process went on for at least
a year; she thought for five years. The idea is too horrible. Such a record
challenges one's faith in natural justice. There was nothing in M. M,'s dismal
life to claim any penalty remotely resembling this awful period of expiation.
From the first she was infinitely more sinned against than sinning, the victim
in the first instance of hideous cruelty, the outcome of a bigoted superstition
scarcely less loathsome, then the helpless prey of a social system almost
equally stupid and pitiless. From the ordinary human point of view, what she
needed was tender care and consolation on the other side of the great change!
Seeking some intelligible explanation of the actual course of events, what I am
told is this. The awful suffering of the period described was not the outcome of
the life just spent. It was the accumulated karma of several lives of
degradation and infamy. Four thousand years ago, M. M., then in a male body, had
been a student of occultism on the threshold of the path. Like many other
students of that period, he strayed from the path, in this case with
exceptionally disastrous results. He gave way to sexual passion regardless of
all considerations [69] beyond the desires of
the moment, and in his next life, in Greece, passed over into the female sex and
again became absorbed in similar excess. The story was repeated in a later Roman
life, and then, the higher self getting desperate, deliberately chose the M. M.
life for the next incarnation, in order by extreme suffering and misery to
expiate and at the same time extinguish the tendencies of the past. The
expiation was terrible, but must not be thought of as the consequence of the one
life immediately preceding it.
Nor, except for the intense sympathy one cannot but feel for the sufferer, is it
to be thought of except as an awfully inevitable prelude to the beautiful
results that followed. For there came a time when she heard a voice saying,
"Poor soul, the time of release has arrived." Then she was borne away, and went
through some fresh experiences of a trying order, though insignificant compared
with those she had been so long enduring. She was still for a time in "Melan's
domain," and was put into touch with scenes of human debauchery; but all
passionate desire had been burnt out of her nature. She was alone for a while in
some desert region, but a time came at last when the Great Lord or that region
told her, "You are [70] free, farewell." Then
she was borne away, and found herself in a beautiful country cottage where she
had a sense of being at rest and at peace. In the distance she saw what seemed
to be a mountain, and she became possessed with an eager desire to get to the
top of it. A mighty effort of will carried her there, and there she saw the
great Master of the White Lodge, to whom she properly belonged, and flew, so to
speak, to his arms. Her restoration to the long forfeited place in the occult
world was accomplished.
From that time on she has been a much beloved member of the great Master's
variegated household, an industrious worker, as she descends from that happy
condition at will to the lower levels of the astral plane where she carries such
help and consolation as may be permissible to those who are, in one way or
another, going through the painful consequences of such lives as that she last
led.
Viewed in a comprehensive survey, the whole story is highly instructive as well
as touching. It may warn us not to jump to hasty conclusions in contemplating
any one life. Few of us, had we chanced to
meet M. M. during the last deplorable life she went through, would have been
otherwise than shocked at the idea that [71]
she was on the brink of becoming much more than a merely happy denizen or a high
level in the next world - actually an intimate assistant, on the staff, so to
speak, of the White Lodge!
Appearances from the worldly point of view are apt to be misleading, and this
thought brings to my mind a story I heard many years ago in connection with the
records of ordinary spiritualism. There was a certain young girl in a very
comfortably circumstanced family, who was beloved and admired in every way by
her belongings and regarded as quite of an angelic nature. She died young, and
her friends assumed as a matter of course that she must have passed at once to
the "seventh heaven," whatever that may be, welcomed by celestial hosts of the
most exalted order. Many years elapsed before her mourning friends heard of her.
Then at last she did communicate through a psychic acquaintance, and explained
that she had been having a very bad time indeed, though at last it was getting
better. I have no information of my own on the subject, but we may assume that
the life, abruptly ended in youth, was one of a series not by any means angelic
in all cases. Or again, that the curious and subtle operation of the karmic law
reserved for the astral [72] conclusion of the
life the development of characteristics which the short physical life had not
brought into manifestation. Anyhow, if the facts were as I was told, the little
story is again instructive as a pendant to the much more thrilling one I have
been engaged in discussing. [73]
A Happy
Passing
As the information required for my present purpose gradually accumulated on my
hands, I became impressed with a feeling to the effect that my stories were
rather too much coloured by the record of distressful conditions immediately
following physical decease. It was important beyond question to understand
these, and to realise what characteristics in life gave rise to distressful
conditions; but at the same time I knew quite well that large numbers of people
whose lives had been fairly meritorious, passed swiftly and undisturbed through
the lower levels of the astral plane and only awoke to consciousness on the
fourth sub-level. It occurred to me that one important type of humanity had not
been represented by any of the next-life narratives collected so far. I wanted
a case in which highly advanced intelligence should have been united with a
fairly clean physical plane record. And, knowing [74]
that most of the great scientific men of the past were still making use of the
opportunities afforded by the high levels of the astral plane, I asked if anyone
of them would be good enough to give me a detailed account of his early
experiences on passing over. The response came from one who undeniably belonged
to the category I indicated, and whose passing was of comparatively recent date.
I need not be too explicit in dealing with this interesting experience. Enough
to say that though highly distinguished in the ordinary world of science, "A.
R." was also a student, to a certain extent, of the higher occultism, and deeply
concerned during life with spiritualistic research. So he had no surprises to
encounter on getting free of the body at a very advanced age. He floated for a
little while over his deathbed, enjoying a feeling of renewed vigour, peace, and
joy. He fully understood the situation, and looked with some interest at the
body he had quitted, and with sympathy at the friends around who were mourning
his departure. Then he had a feeling of going up, and one which he found it
difficult to describe, a feeling, as he put it, "of being drawn into himself."
He lost consciousness for a time. He has since learned
[75] that it was for about three days of our time. He awoke on some high
level of the fourth, lying on what seemed a bank of some soft material in the
midst of a lovely scene; flowers all around and a beautiful view with mountains
in the distance, and a general sense of warmth, light, and colour. He realised
that his astral body now bore the appearance it had in life some forty years
previously.
He lay for a time in a very pleasant reverie. Then he got up feeling quite
light. There was "no gravitational stress" to deal with. He saw some people he
knew, and then, suddenly, his surroundings changed. He found himself in a room
where he was received by a crowd of his former friends of the scientific world.
As I have said already, he passed on at a very advanced age, so that most of
those whom he had known in life were already in the next state of existence.
They had gathered together to welcome him, and he had a delightful talk with
them.
He was now generally on the fifth sub-plane, but this and the higher fourth are
very closely associated. Indeed, I have learned that men of science passing over
- always assuming that they either have no 'disagreeables' to get over in the
first instance, or have got through these – [76]
spend a great deal of their time on the fourth, even after they are entirely
free of the fifth. On the fifth they carry on their work and study in whatever
department of research their bent leads them into, and descend into the fourth
for what may be described as social intercourse with their friends.
A. R. recognises to the full how greatly he benefited, when coming into his
inheritance in the next world, from his investigation during physical life of
super-physical mysteries. Spiritualistic experience and belief, even of the
ordinary type, is enormously better an introduction to the next world than blank
ignorance of the agnostic order, or even than the shadowy suggestions of
commonplace ecclesiastical teaching. This idea will be very clearly illustrated
by the next story I have to tell, where the consequences of positive disbelief
in any future are made apparent. [77]
X. Y.'s
Enlightenment
The narrative which, as I have just said, illustrates the effect of going on
with positive disbelief in any future life, was obtained for me in response to
my desire to get touch with someone who had gone on in something like that
attitude of mind, but without being hampered by any definitely evil
characteristics. My friend (of the Master's entourage), who has been especially
helpful to me in this series of investigations, brought along - of course with
his own cordial consent - a man who in life (protracted to advanced age) had
been conspicuous rather for his cynical worldly wit, coupled with brilliant
intellectual gifts, than for interest in any variety of philosophical or
religious thought. In fact, to put the matter more plainly, he was all but an
atheist, disbelieving, I think, in any survival of the soul after death,
invariably pouring ridicule on occult research of any sort, but none the less a
kindly natured man in all the [78] ordinary
relations of life. When I realised who it was I was speaking to, I was intensely
interested in the prospect of hearing how he had encountered his unexpected
resumption of consciousness out of the body.
He had been perfectly fearless, in the physical body, as the end approached.
Fearlessness, indeed, had been one of the characteristics of the man all through
life. But he was immensely puzzled when, after a change only associated with a
sound as of something "that went click," he found himself looking at his body as
something external to himself. He saw some relatives gathered round apparently
showing distress, but he could not succeed in attracting their attention, in
making them hear the assurance he wanted to give, that he was still there. This
failure made him furious. He felt better than he felt for years; wanted
desperately to say so, but the effort was quite in vain. Then he found himself
floating up and fell into a doze.
Naturally he does not know how long this lasted, but he woke up lying on a couch
in a room, and sitting beside him he suddenly recognised an old friend who had
been closely associated with him in some of his public work during life, but who
had passed away many [79] years previously.
"Here you are, my boy!" the friend said in the most natural way. "Come, get up!"
and then he was up without any sort of effort. "What's the matter?" he asked.
"Why, you're dead," said the other. "What rot!" he declared. "I was never more
alive." His utter incredulity lasted for some time. Disbelief was so ingrained
in the character of the man that the new experiences around him, so incompatible
with physical life, merely left him dazed and bewildered. He was out in the open
country in a little while and met another well-known friend who had been
intimate with him down here. Then several others. But the muddled frame of mind
was excessively distasteful to him. He had always been in the habit of thinking
so clearly, of having all his ideas cut and dried.
The country scene was pleasant - undulating country, "something like the Sussex
downs"; but after a while he was back again in his "bungalow cottage," as he
called it, feeling a little less muddled. And, sitting there thinking, he became
aware that there was someone else in the room who addressed him by his name.
This was an Eastern-looking man - "looked like an Egyptian." X. Y. asked him
who he was, and a name was given that did not [80]
illuminate the situation. "Who are you?" "I am one of the workers under .
. . So-and so" - mentioning another name. "And now I'm just as wise as I was
before," replied X. V. The conversation went on, and the Egyptian said he would
show him what his condition would have been, as a consequence of his
disbelieving attitude of mind in life, if he had not been helped. The help had
been given him by reason of claims deep down in his nature, of which he knew
nothing.
Then X. Y. says he had the feeling of drifting down hill a long way, and of
getting into a region of cold white fog. It was very comfortless and miserable.
He could hear a sound of "jabbering" voices, but could not see anybody. And his
Egyptian guide had disappeared. "It got on my nerves," he said to me. At the
time he called out to the Egyptian by the name that had been given to him, and
immediately the Egyptian was back again. X. V. frankly begged to be taken back,
away from there. The Egyptian explained that his intensely negative attitude of
mind in life had created an aura around him that would have kept him in that
region for a long time if he had not been helped as above referred to. This
jarred upon one line of thought that had been habitual
[81] with him. He did not want any vicarious atonement. He would rather
bear his own burdens. But the objection was cleared away. He was entitled to the
help, though he did not understand it.
Then he got back to his bungalow, and declared that he wanted something to do.
He had been an active man all his life, and he did not want merely to laze away
the time in dreamy enjoyment. The Egyptian told him that if he really wished for
some sphere of activity the thought would give it him. With his long habit of
scepticism, he made an attempt to desire opportunities for activity, but was
aware all the time that at the back of his mind there was a certain sense of
enjoying laziness. The result was curious. The conditions of the room seemed to
get confused. Things that had before seemed real, became half broken up.
Eventually, however, the desire for activity became more clearly formed, and
then suddenly the scene changed. X. Y. found himself in a large room among a
crowd of old journalistic friends, who welcomed him, and soon he found himself
once more becoming interested in politics. Since then he has been more and more
absorbed in watching the course of events in Parliament and in attempting to
[82] influence men there along the lines of his
own sympathies, which are so far but little changed from what they were in life
down here. For he is very slow to change in any way, sceptical still about any
information he gets concerning conditions of existence beyond those he has
already come into touch with. He has, indeed, modified one view he formerly
held. An ardent partisan while himself a member of the House of Commons, he sees
now that the party system is bad; but I should be anticipating what I suspect
may ultimately be the drift of his opinions if I venture to indicate any
definite changes, along the lines of the distrust of the party system, as likely
to command his future acceptance. [83]
The Troubles of S. O.
Circumstances have put me in touch with a series of astral experiences
encountered by a man of very remarkably mixed character and mental attributes,
including something not far removed from genius as a writer and poet, and, for
the rest, tendencies, expressing themselves in habits of life, that could not
but be a bar to rapid progress after passing into the next world. I regret that
so many of the stories I have to tell embody, in this way, experiences that are
painful for a time; but I must again emphasise the broad principle that all
people who lead fairly good lives and are not intensely afflicted with
unsatisfied desires of the kind that belong exclusively to the physical plane,
pass on easily to pleasant conditions on the fourth sub-plane of the astral, and
awake to agreeable surroundings at once. This applies, I may add, with increased
emphasis, to all who have absorbed [84]
theosophical teaching in addition to leading a good life.
But to deal with the case before me. S. O. passed away under somewhat dreary
conditions at the close of very distressing experiences during the last few
years of physical life. These did much to alleviate what would otherwise have
been even more arduous trials attending his early years on the astral. He was
received on the other side by a black-shrouded figure who told him to "Come with
me." He felt that he had no option, and seemed to go upward for a time and then
to be dropped down again into a sort of mist where, alone for a while, he went
drearily over the leading events of his past life. They all seemed to stand out
clearly, and he had the feeling of looking on at them, as it were, as though he
were a spectator. Then he seemed to fall asleep, but awoke afterwards in a room
at a hotel that he had known in life, one "given over to vice." After
experiences that I cannot venture to relate in detail - they represented
aggravated conditions resembling some already dealt with in other cases, - the
shrouded figure reappeared and told him that he would have to remain there some
time, but if he called upon the higher part of his
[85] nature, which was strong, he would hasten his escape.
Eventually, though my story condenses many years of suffering, this assurance
was vindicated; but at first the scene of tantalising temptation was merely
changed. It was changed several times, till once, in Southern Italy, the growing
sense of wearied disgust led S. O. to cry out, "For God's sake" to be relieved
from the ordeal. This was the beginning of relief. The shrouded figure again
took charge of him, led him far on along some sort of valley, then through what
seemed a long tunnel, emerging at last into daylight.
I should explain that he had been in life a Roman Catholic. The person who now
met him was a priest, who took him by the hand and said he had been given into
his charge; He was now in a beautiful region plentifully furnished with spires
and churches. He was told to rest, and recover from the strain of all he had
gone through.
He was tired, and went into a house where he lay down and rested, rising after a
while feeling much happier. He realised that his personal appearance had
reverted to the period of his best time on the physical plane. He went out, met
and talked with many people, all [86] members
of the Roman Church. In the course of these talks he noticed repeatedly an
appearance he found it difficult to describe. It was something like a soap
bubble in a filmy human shape. Each such appearance seemed to burst; and to
scatter abroad beautiful sparks of mauve and violet colour, that each time had
the effect of brightening the scene. S. O. was told by one "very cultured man,"
whose acquaintance, he made, that these effects were due to prayers sent up from
the earth plane for the repose of the souls of unnamed people. Their substance,
so to speak, was derived from a far higher plane of Nature. I may add here that,
since getting the information just passed on, I have been particularly asked by
one (on the other side) who was an important member of the Roman Church when on
earth, to be sure I duly record this interesting little item of other - world
news. It is certainly an interesting illustration of the way benevolent effort
and good thought may bear fruit even when the exact idea inspiring it is
somewhat confused.
Roaming about the region in which he found himself, S. O. perceived that it was
surrounded by great walls - for its protection, he was told, from evil
influences raging outside. But these [87] walls
disconcerted him. He wished to explore beyond, but was urged not to do so. He
could go out if he liked, but would not be able to return. Eventually, however,
he insisted on going out, and was permitted to do so, passing through a sort of
gateway described as luminous, mother-of-pearl-like, beyond which he was for a
short time alone, but was then greeted by an illustrious poet who had passed on
a long time before, and who took him by the hand. All that had tainted his earth
life had evaporated from him. He felt clean. He came now into touch with various
writers whose works he had studied in earth life, and began to look upward, so
to speak, towards the great White Lodge. These later developments, he told me,
were but recently attained to, though it is now more than twenty years of our
time since he left the earth body. [88]
A Devout
Priest
I wished to bring my series of narratives to a close with an example of a happy
passing, and this aspiration was met by a visit procured for me from one who in
life had been a devout priest of the Roman Catholic Church, an earnest ascetic
who died from the effects of illness contracted during ministrations in the
humblest levels of poverty in London. He remembered looking in a dreamy way at
his body when he left it, and, in the same dreamy fashion, reviewing the events
of his past life, - a very innocent retrospect apparently. It has only been in
this and the last case dealt with that mention has been made of this particular
experience. I have inclined to believe that everyone had it on the threshold of
the next world, but the records I have been dealing with seem to imply that it
is not consciously associated with every passing. The explanation, I am told, is
this: - Everyone, except in cases of very sudden [89]
death, has this experience, but it accrues to them before the period of
unconsciousness, which is generally the prelude to a full awakening on the other
side, and thus is often forgotten afterwards.
My priestly friend was aware of having sunk after the review of his past life
into a state of unconsciousness that lasted he did not know exactly how long,
but he then awoke lying on a couch in a room surrounded by priests of his own
church, who gave him a cordial welcome. He asked, "Was he in heaven?" but
without, as it seems, getting a specific reply, he was told that he had passed
unconsciously through the purgatorial region where nothing remaining from his
earth life had detained him. He went out, after a while, and found himself in a
beautiful country surrounded by protective walls, - evidently the same as that
in which S. O. had emerged when set free from his long sufferings on lower
levels. My priest friend, when he spoke to me, was still filled with the
religious emotions of his earth life; described himself as frequently descending
to lower levels to bring help to "souls in prison," and did his best to win me
over to "the Holy Church," which he still regarded as the one avenue leading to
supreme spiritual beatitude. At the
[90] same time he was impressed with the belief
that he would soon pass on to some higher spiritual condition in which his soul
would broaden out in some way he did not yet understand. I endeavoured to assure
him that he would then realise how it was that I was contented with my own
spiritual prospects, and did not feel the necessity of seeking refuge in the
region where he was, for the time being, at peace.
[91]
Conclusion
The individual narratives I have been able to collect, though widely varied in
their character, fall very far short of covering all the ground one seeks to
explore in studying the conditions of the next world. Some of these conditions
may better be dealt with in general terms. The fundamental idea to keep in mind
is that people passing over do not all at once undergo any great change except
so far as their surroundings have changed. As some of the stories I have been
able to obtain show so clearly, occult knowledge acquired during life gives an
enormous advantage to those who possess it as compared with people of quite
ordinary type. It brings them rapidly into touch with representatives of the
higher wisdom on the other side, and new horizons open out before them. But
naturally there are multitudes who pass over without a trace of any such
knowledge, and they consort, so to speak, with [92]
others of their own kind, and get used after some interval of bewilderment to
conditions of life curiously resembling in many ways those by which they have
been surrounded during physical life. In one region of the fourth sub-plane - by
no means its most exalted region - people of good, commonplace religious habits
of thought will be much engaged, as "the devout priest" story shows, with
religious exercises of the kind to which they have been accustomed down here. It
must always be borne in mind that the matter of the astral world is plastic in a
high degree to thought. Thought there is an actually creative power, and thus
there are regions of the fourth where the sustained thought power of all
dwelling there, has created churches and chapels in which they continue to carry
on such services as they have been used to on the physical plane. As the Roman
Catholic community on the other side is of course a very numerous body, the
Roman Catholic cathedral in which they renew their worship is, I am assured, an
enormous building far exceeding in magnitude any similar structure on the
earth's surface. Going to the opposite end of the scale, the little community
calling themselves Plymouth Brothers, entertaining the belief, as I understand
their state of mind, that [93] they alone are
destined to be saved, find their impressions duly realised, - as they think.
They find themselves congregated together in something resembling a town beyond
which they see nothing but an infinite waste. They continue, as in life, to hold
meetings and preach each other dismal sermons, until, one by one, they get
sufficiently bored, and so drift away and gradually acquire enlarged experience.
Many of them may have been in ordinary life, no doubt, good and affectionate
people, and then they would be exactly of the type suited to the devachanic
condition, and would float off to that state of existence, when tired of their
"Plymouth Brother" attitude of mind. The tardiness of their progress to loftier
happiness would once more illustrate the fundamental principle that knowledge
gained down here in advance, concerning the opportunities of the astral world,
is enormously helpful in enabling people passing on to attain at once desirable
conditions for which, in the absence of such knowledge, they would have to wait.
Only one of the narratives with which I have been dealing in the course of this
little volume has related to the after consequences of putting a violent end to
one's own life down here. And the case of M. M. is crowded with
[94] exceptional circumstances, I have
refrained from reproducing detailed stories of the sufferings or discomfort
endured by people who have committed suicide in any ordinary way, because these
would have overburdened the book with experiences of a painful order. After all,
people who commit suicide are a small minority among us, while for the majority,
leading fairly creditable and respectable lives, an appropriately rapid
translation to agreeable conditions is the rule. I want my present treatise as
a whole to be encouraging rather than the reverse for the kind of people likely
to be its readers for the most part. I have often noticed a tendency among those
who become interested in theosophical teaching to overrate the importance of
their minor peccadillos and suppose themselves incurring, on their account, more
serious karma than nature really has in store for them. To judge oneself too
severely may be to make a mistake on the right side, but it is a mistake none
the less. Moreover, in contemplating astral possibilities one should always
remember that the astral life is not the period appropriate, to the working out
of karma. That is reserved for the next physical life, and when disagreeable or
painful experiences are incurred on the astral they are to be thought of almost
always as [95] purifying processes qualifying
the personality to reach restful and happy conditions. If anyone passes over
steeped in desires of a kind incompatible with life on any of the higher astral
levels, he must wear out those desires, subdue them or realise their
worthlessness, before he can ascend to the higher levels. The attainment of such
an attitude of mind may, as we have seen, be sometimes retarded to a painful
degree, but in that case the protraction of the painful state should not be
regarded as a karmic penalty. It automatically comes to an end as soon as the
person concerned is emancipated from the characteristics that hold him back. An
appreciation of this idea elucidates a question, sometimes thought to be
puzzling, when we hear of the "help" given by entities, far advanced themselves,
to people on low astral levels. That is not interference with karma; it is
simply so much persuasion aimed at showing the people in trouble that they can
set themselves free if they will make the necessary interior effort.
Before concluding, it may be worth while to add a few explanations that might
have been given already in connection with some of the astral experiences
described, but have remained over and can perhaps better be dealt with now
[96] in general terms. Frequent mention has
been made of "houses" in which those released from physical life find themselves
on awakening beyond. Such houses are the thought creations of the persons
passing on, or of those who have passed on previously and stand ready to welcome
new arrivals. This detail requires further elucidation. As A. R. said, there is
no "gravitational stress" on the astral plane. Anyone there can move about,
upward or downward, by the mere effort of will. How about stairs in astral
houses? Surely they cannot be needed! Nor are they needed, and yet the habits
of mind brought over from physical life are so ingrained in the thinking of the
newcomer in the next world, that he needlessly repeats conditions around him
which resemble those he has been used to. And if a staircase seems to him a
necessary adjunct to a comfortable home, his new home includes the staircase
accordingly. Later on, if he works his way to higher levels than the fourth
sub-plane, he will get altogether free of the physical life traditions. There
are no houses, for instance, on the sixth sub-plane. There thought gives rise to
flowery conditions. The denizens of that region have long since escaped from
their early habits of thought. They have [97]
grown used to a life exempt from all material wants. They need neither food,
shelter, nor sleep. They can luxuriate at ease in scenes of natural beauty;
although it is probable that people qualified to ascend to the sixth sub-plane
will have been developed morally to the extent of desiring to work, in some way,
for the good of their fellow-creatures, and will spend a large part of their
time on lower levels, where they can render help to others.
An interesting question arises as to the relative durability of thought
creations on the astral plane. This differs very widely. Where continuous and
collective thought is concentrated on the same purpose, such creations may
assume a very permanent character, as for example in the Roman Catholic region
of the fourth. There the churches and houses and surrounding walls are, so to
speak, very solidly built. And there are regions of the astral world which the
great masters of the White Lodge reserve for their own uses, where ceremonies of
initiation take place, where people passing on and already belonging to the
occult world are received, if they need (as may sometimes be the case) rest and
recuperation after trying experiences in physical life. Here the appropriate
structures are rendered very [98] definitely
permanent by Adept power, and are not infrequently visited during physical life
by occult pupils able to get about freely on the astral plane during sleep. On
the other hand, the dream-houses, or rather the dream-rooms, created for
themselves by people of quite ordinary type in passing over (assuming that such
persons have no disagreeables to encounter), would not be durable at all, would
only serve a brief purpose, and would melt away when the inhabitant, as on the
hypothesis he or she would be soon likely to do, float off into the unconscious
rest preceding translation to the devachanic state.
I do not suggest for a moment that the astral experiences I have been recording,
or the imperfect explanations just added to them, come near exhausting the
manifold varieties of condition involved in the opportunities of astral life.
Some of these, especially on the higher levels, are practically beyond physical
plane comprehension. Thus on the fifth sub-plane - the intellectual region - it
seems possible for the literary student to help himself to copies of any book in
existence down here, whether of ancient or of recent origin. And I believe that
men of science on the fifth level can somehow make use of laboratories, though
their new [99] methods of research no doubt
involve the use of faculties that generally supersede the necessity for using
such instruments of research as they have been used to in the lower life. I
know that they acquire knowledge concerning the constitution of matter, the
mysteries of force, gravitation, and electricity that no instruments of ordinary
research would help them to. And the vast spaces of the solar system and beyond
become accessible, in some way we cannot here understand, to the investigations
of the occult astronomer. That does not mean that superlative wisdom is poured
into their consciousness in a flood. The new knowledge is gradually acquired as
here by study and continuous effort, but it is acquirable in new ways for the
full comprehension of which we who are interested in such work will mostly have
to wait.
Finally, it seems desirable to deal in a few words with an idea that may arise
in the minds of some theosophical students concerning the investigations with
which this little volume has been concerned. In the beginning of theosophical
study an impression arose that it was wrong to get into communication with
people on the astral plane, because it was assumed that in all cases the
all-important idea [100] connected with them
was that they should pass on without delay to the loftier existence described as
devachan. To seek intercourse with them was to tie them down to earth, and so
on. Our present fuller knowledge of the whole subject dissipates this notion
altogether. It is true that there might be peculiar cases in which people
incapable of profiting by the life of the higher astral levels might be just
sinking into the sleep preceding translation to the devachanic state, and would
thus be prejudiced if they could be awakened. But the mere opportunities of
spiritual mediumship would not awaken them. The fear that by loving thoughts of
departed dear ones we may "drag them down" to the earth plane is almost entirely
delusive. It is only while they are wide awake that they could feel the
attractive strain, and in such cases they would not be in the least degree
prejudiced by responding to it. There are reasons why it is, as a rule,
undesirable to attempt by means of commonplace spiritual mediumship to get into
touch with departed friends, the liability to astral deception in connection
with such efforts being very serious. The lower levels of the astral plane swarm
with entities who find it amusing to personate anyone whom the sitters at a
seance may seek to [101] get in touch with, and
they can readily pick up from the thoughts of the persons sitting, enough
information to make the personation plausible. The narratives I have been
enabled to pass on in the preceding pages have been obtained under such peculiar
conditions that they are exempt from this risk. For various reasons it is
impossible for me to be more explicit, and I can only leave the records I have
put before my readers to be taken or left as they may think fit, content to
suggest that my long and loyal devotion to the task of interpreting the
teachings of the great Adept Masters may afford my readers some ground for
assuming that in the present case I am likely to have been provided with
abnormal facilities for carrying out this little piece of work, the importance
of which is perhaps of an order of magnitude far greater than can be measured by
the number of pages required for its fulfilment.
[Page 102 - Final]
________
FOOT NOTE.
[1]
Word
Definition – ‘costermonger’: old English term for: a street seller of
fruit and vegetables from a wheelbarrow or wheeled market stall - common
in turn-of-the-century London, and considered of ‘low social class’ in
Victorian England.
---------------------
|