Talks on the
Path of Occultism - Vol. III
Commentary on
The Light on the
Path
by
Annie Besant
and C.W. Leadbeater
THE THEOSOPHICAL PUBLISHING HOUSE
Adyar, Chennai 600 020, India • Wheaton, 111., USA
First Edition 1926
FOREWORD
THIS book is merely a record of talks by Mr. C. W. Leadbeater and myself on
three famous books—books small in size but great in contents. We both hope that
they will prove useful to aspirants, and even to those above that stage, since
the talkers were older than the listeners, and had more experience in the life
of discipleship.
The talks were not given at one place only; we chatted to our friends at
different times and places, chiefly at Adyar, London and Sydney. A vast quantity
of notes were taken by the listeners. All that were available of these were
collected and arranged. They were then condensed, and repetitions were
eliminated.
Unhappily there were found to be very few1 notes on The Voice of the Silence,
Fragment I, so we have utilized notes made at a class held by our good
colleague, Mr. Ernest Wood, in Sydney, and incorporated these into Bishop
Leadbeater's talks in that section. No notes of my own talks on this book were
available; though I have spoken much upon it, those talks are not recoverable.
May this book help some of our younger brothers to understand more of these
priceless teachings. The more they are studied and lived, the more will be found
in them.
ANNIE BESANT
CONTENTS |
PAGE |
FOREWORD |
V |
LIGHT ON THE PATH: PART I |
1 |
Chapter |
|
1 |
Introduction |
3 |
2 |
The Four Preliminary
Statements |
17 |
3 |
The First Rule |
40 |
4 |
Rules 2 to 4 |
81 |
5 |
Rules 5 to 8 |
114 |
6 |
Rules 9 to 12 |
151 |
7 |
Rules 13 to 16 |
160 |
8 |
Rules 17 to 19 |
185 |
9 |
Rule 20 |
201 |
10 |
The Note on Rule 20 |
234 |
11 |
Rule 21 |
255 |
LIGHT ON THE PATH: PART II |
1 |
The Preliminary Comment |
303 |
2 |
Rules 1 to 4 |
332 |
3 |
Rules 5 to 8 |
347 |
4 |
Rules 9 to 12 |
378 |
5 |
Rule 13 |
416 |
6 |
Rules 14 to 21 |
433 |
|
Index |
457 |
PART I
LIGHT ON THE PATH
CHAPTER 1 INTRODUCTION
A.B.—Light on the Path is one of a number of different occult treatises which
are in the care of the great Teachers and are used in the instruction of
disciples. It is a part of The Book of the Golden Precepts, which contains many
treatises which were written in different ages of the world, but have one
characteristic in common, that they contain occult truth, and have therefore to
be studied in a different way from ordinary books. The understanding of these
treatises depends upon the capacity of the reader, and when any one of them is
published to the world only distorted views of its teaching will be acquired, if
it is taken literally.
Definitely intended for the quickening of the evolution of those who are on the
Path, this book puts forward ideals which people of the world are rarely
prepared to accept. Only as far as a man is able and willing to live the
teaching, will he be able to understand it. If he does not practise it, it will
remain a sealed book to him. Any effort to live it will throw light upon it; but
if the reader makes no effort, he will not only gain very little, but he will
turn against the book and say that it is useless.
4 TALKS ON THE PATH OF OCCULTISM
This treatise falls naturally into certain divisions. It was given to the
Western world by the Master Hilarion, one of the great Teachers belonging to the
White Lodge —a Master who played a great part in the Gnostic and Neoplatonic
movements, one of the great persons who made attempts to keep Christianity
alive. His incarnations have run very much in Greece and Rome, and he takes
special interest in guiding the evolution of the Western world. He obtained the
book as we have it, without the notes, from the Venetian Master, one of the
great Teachers whom H.P.B. spoke of as Chohans.
Fifteen of the short rules that you find in the first part of this book, and
fifteen in the second part, are exceedingly old, and were written in the most
ancient Sanskrit. To these short sentences which are used as a basis for the
instruction of the disciple, the Chohan added other sentences, which now form
part of the book, and are always to be read along with them, to supply
complementary ideas without which the reader might be led astray. All the rules
in both parts of the book, except the thirty short aphorisms, were written by
the Chohan who gave it to the Master Hilarion. The following table shows the
fifteen short rules in Part I as they existed in the exceedingly ancient
manuscript; the number at the beginning of each is the original one, but the
number at the end is that which appears in the modern book.
This does not refer to color but is a term used for the Brotherhood of Perfected
Men (ed.).
INTRODUCTION
I |
Kill out ambition. |
1 |
II |
Kill out desire of life. |
2 |
III |
Kill out desire of comfort. |
3 |
IV |
Kill out all sense of separateness. |
5 |
V |
Kill out desire of sensation. |
6 |
VI |
Kill out the hunger for growth. |
7 |
VII |
Desire only that which is within you. |
9 |
VIII |
Desire only that which is beyond you. |
10 |
IX |
Desire only that which is
unattainable. |
11 |
X |
Desire power ardently. |
13 |
XI |
Desire peace fervently. |
14 |
XII |
Desire possessions above all. |
15 |
XIII |
Seek out the way. |
17 |
XIV |
Seek the way by retreating within. |
18 |
XV |
Seek the way by advancing boldly
without. |
19 |
It will be noticed from the above table (which covers only Part I of the book)
that rules 4, 8, 12, 16, 20 and 21 are absent from the list. That is because
they do not belong to the most ancient part of the book. Those rules and the
preliminary and concluding comments are the portion added by the greater One who
gave it to the Master. In addition there are notes, which were written by the
Master Hilarion himself. The book as originally published in 1885 contained
these three portions: the aphorisms from the ancient manuscript, the additions
of the Chohan, and the notes of the Master Hilarion. All these were written down
by Mabel Collins, who acted as the physical instrument, as the pen that wrote
it. The
6
Master was himself the translator of the book, and he impressed it upon her
brain. His was the hand that held the pen. Then there subsequently appeared in
Lucifer under the title of " Comments " a few articles which were written by
Mabel Collins under the influence of the Master, and which are exceedingly
valuable, worth reading and studying.
Now, taking up the book itself, we first find the following statement:
These rules are written for all disciples: Attend you to them.
A distinction is made here between the world and the disciples; this is not a
book intended for the world in general. The word disciple is to be considered in
two senses—the uninitiated and the initiated. In reading the book carefully we
can trace the two distinct lines of teaching clothed in the same words; each
sentence contains a double meaning, one intended for the more and the other for
the less advanced. We will try to trace them out when we come to the preliminary
statements. The second part of the treatise appears to be intended entirely for
the initiated disciple, but this duality runs through the first part.
Many persons not yet approaching discipleship entirely misunderstand these
rules, and often criticize them as holding up an ideal which is hard and wanting
in sympathy. This is constantly the case when an ideal is presented which is too
high for the reader. No person is helped by an ideal, however noble in itself,
which to
7
him is not attractive; it is a practical lesson for dealing with human beings
that we should put before them only such ideals as may attract them. With all
books of this kind that which a man gets out of them is what he brings to them;
his understanding depends upon his own power to answer to the thoughts which
they contain. Even material things exist for us only if we have developed the
organs which can respond to them; hence at the present time there are hundreds
of vibrations playing upon us to which we are incapable of giving heed. Sir
William Crookes once illustrated this very well when he was trying to show how
circumscribed was our knowledge of electricity, and how great therefore was the
possibility of progress in electrical science. He said that it would make an
enormous difference to us, would in fact revolutionize our ideas, if we had
organs answering to electrical vibrations instead of eyes sensitive to light
vibrations. In dry air we should not be conscious of anything, for it does not
conduct electricity. A house made of glass would be opaque, but an ordinary
house would be transparent. A silver wire would look like a hole or tunnel in
the air. What we know of the world thus depends upon our response to its
vibrations Similarly, if we cannot answer to a truth, it is not truth for us.
So, when dealing with books written by occultists we can only catch their
thought in proportion to our own spiritual advancement. Any part of their
thought which is too subtle or too high simply passes by us as if it were not
there.
8
Much more can be got out of this book by meditation than by mere reading; its
greatest value is that it gives directions to our meditation. Pick out a single
sentence and then meditate upon it; stop the working of the lower mind and
awaken the inner consciousness which conies directly in contact with the
thought. One may thus get away from images of the concrete mind to a direct
perception of the truth. Meditation thus enables one to obtain in the brain a
large amount of the direct knowledge of the truth which the ego has acquired in
his own worlds. Still, a man who meditates, but does not read or listen to a
teacher as well, although he is sure to progress on the spiritual plane, will do
so only slowly. If he had had the additional advantage of reading or listening,
he would advance far more rapidly. The lecture or study can tune the brain of
the student so that it will obtain more knowledge through meditation. But for a
man who only listens or reads, and does not meditate, hardly any advancement is
possible, and progress is exceedingly slow. Both should be combined ; much
meditation and a little hearing or reading will carry a man far indeed.
C.W.L.—On the title-page of the first edition of Light on the Path, published in
1885, it is described as: " A treatise written for the personal use of those who
are ignorant of the Eastern Wisdom, and who desire to enter within its
influence." But the book itself begins with the statement that these rules are
written for all disciples. The latter description is surely the more accurate
one, as the history of the book will show.
9
As we have it at present it was dictated by the Master Hilarion through Mabel
Collins—a lady well known in Theosophical circles, who at one time collaborated
with Madame Blavatsky in the editorship of Lucifer. The Master Hilarion had in
turn received it from his own Teacher, the Great One who among Theosophical
students is sometimes called the Venetian. But even he was the author of only a
part of it. It has passed through three phases; let us set them down in order.
It is but a small book even now, but the first form in which we have seen it is
smaller yet. It is a palm-leaf manuscript, old beyond computation; so old that
even before the time of Christ men had already forgotten its date and the name
of its writer, and regarded its origin as lost in the mists of prehistoric
antiquity. It consists of ten leaves, and on each leaf are written three lines
only, for in a palm-leaf manuscript the lines run along the page, not across it
as with us. Each line is complete in itself—a short aphorism—and the language in
which they are written is an archaic form of Sanskrit.
The Venetian Master translated these aphorisms from Sanskrit into Greek, for the
use of his Alexandrian pupils, of whom the Master Hilarion was one, in his
incarnation as lamblichus. Not only did he translate the aphorisms, but he added
to them certain explanations, which we shall do well to take along with the
original. For example, if we look at the first three aphorisms, we shall see
that the paragraph marked 4, which follows them, is clearly intended as a
commentary
10
on them; so we should read it thus: " Kill out ambition; but work as those work
who are ambitious. Kill out desire of life; but respect life as those do who
desire it. Kill out desire of comfort; but be happy as those are who live for
happiness."
In the same way rules, 5, 6 and 7 form a group, followed by 8, which is a
comment by the Chohan—and so on far into the book. These groups of three are not
put so by mere coincidence, but intentionally. If we examine them we shall find
that there is a certain bond between the three in each case. For example, the
three rules grouped together above point to purity of heart and steadiness of
spirit. One may say that they indicate what the man must do with himself, what
is his duty to himself in the way of preparation for work.
The second set of three aphorisms (numbers 5 to 8) states that we are to kill
out all sense of separateness, desire for sensation, and the hunger for growth.
They indicate man's duty to those around him socially. He must realize that he
is one with others. He must be willing to give up selfish and separate
pleasures. He must kill out the desire for personal growth, and work for the
growth of the whole.
In the next set of three (numbers 9 to 12) we are told what to desire—that which
is within us, that which is beyond us, and that which is unattainable. These are
clearly a man's duty to his Higher Self. Then follow aphorisms (13 to 16) on the
desire for power, peace and possessions. Those are all desires which fit us for
the
11
work of the Path. The next group of rules (17 to 20) tell the aspirant how to
seek the way.
The rules now numbered 4, 8, 12, etc., are explanations and amplifications by
the Venetian Master. They, with the original aphorisms, formed the book as it
was first published in 1885, for the Master Hilarion translated it from Greek
into English and gave it in that form. Almost immediately after it was printed,
he added to it a number of most valuable notes of his own. For that first
edition those notes were printed on separate pages, the backs of which were
gummed so that they might be attached at the beginning and the end of the little
book which had just passed through the press. In further editions, those notes
have been inserted in their appropriate places.
The beautiful little essay on Karma which appears at the end of the book is also
from the hand of the Venetian Master, and was included in the book from the
first edition.
The archaic Sanskrit manuscript which was the basis of Light on the Path was
also translated into Egyptian; and many of the explanations of the Venetian
Master have more the ring of Egyptian than of Indian teaching. Therefore, the
student who can enter to some extent into the spirit of that old civilization
will find it a great help to his understanding of this book. The conditions
which surrounded us in ancient Egypt were radically different from those of the
present day. It is almost impossible to make people understand them now; yet if
we could get back into the mental attitude of those
12
ancient times we should realize a very great deal which now, I am afraid, we
miss. We are in the habit of thinking too much of the intellect of the present
day, and are fond of boasting of the advance we have made beyond the old
civilizations. There undoubtedly are certain points in which we have advanced
beyond them, but there are other matters in which we are by no means at their
level. The comparison is perhaps a little unfair, however, because as yet ours
is a very young civilization. If we go back three hundred years in the history
of Europe, and especially the history of England, we find a state of affairs
which seems very uncivilized indeed. When we compare these three hundred years,
including the one hundred and fifty years of scientific development which have
played so large a part in our civilized history, with the four thousand years
through which the Egyptian civilization flourished practically unchanged, we see
at once that ours is a very small affair. Any civilization which has lasted as
long as four thousand years has had an opportunity to try all sorts of
experiments and to obtain results which we have not had yet, so it is not fair
to compare us at our beginning with any of the great civilizations at their
zenith.
Our fifth sub-race has by no means reached its highest point or its greatest
glory, and that point when reached will be a definite advance upon all other
civilizations, especially in certain respect: It will have its own
characteristics and some of them may seem to us less pleasing than those of the
earlier civilizations, but on the whole it will be an advance, because the
successive races
13
are like the tide when the waves are coming in. Each conies in and recedes, and
the next one conies in just a little further. They all have their rise and
climax, and their decay. With us the tide is still rising, so we have not yet
the settled order in certain respects that they had in some of the older
civilizations. We are, unfortunately, far as yet from the realization of
unselfishness—from the feeling that the community as a whole is the chief thing
to be considered and not the individual. That was attained in some of the older
civilizations to an extent which would make it seem to us now a kind of Utopia,
but on the other hand we are growing into possession of powers which those older
peoples did not possess. There was a short period in the early history of Rome
when " none was for the party and all were for the State ", as Macaulay put it.
Pythagoras, speaking to the people at Taormina, told them that the State was
more than father and mother, more even than wife and child, and that every man
should always be ready to give up his own thoughts, feelings and wishes for the
sake of unity—for the res publica, the original of ' republic ', the common weal
or well being of the whole, to which every one should be willing to sacrifice
his personal interests. In England, too, in the days of Queen Elizabeth, there
was a period of such true patriotic feeling and activity.
I do not mean that in ancient Egypt or in ancient Greece, or anywhere else in
the world, all the people were unselfish. Not by any means, but all educated
people took a very much wider view, a much more
14
communal view of life than we do. They thought very much more of the State and
much less of their individual welfare or progress. We shall attain to that too,
and when we do we ought to realize it more fully than any of the ancient races,
and also bring to it some development which the older races had not.
If, then, we could get back into that old Egyptian outlook, we should understand
Light on the Path very much better. The student will do well to try to produce
that attitude in himself in his study of it, so that it may help him to put
himself into the place of those who studied it in the olden times.
It is easy for some of us who have undergone the training that enables us to
remember our past lives. I remember my own last incarnation in Greece, where I
took part in the Eleusinian Mysteries, and another life much earlier in which
the great Mysteries of Egypt, of which some remnants still exists in
Freemasonry, figured largely, and that enables me to get more good out of such
books as this than I could without such memory. Even impressions from the past,
giving a sense of atmosphere, are a great help. Egyptian or Indian, there is no
more precious gem in our Theosophical literature—no book which will better
repay the most careful and detailed study.
As already explained, Light on the Path was the first of three treatises which
occupy an unique position in our Theosophical literature, as they give
directions from those who have trodden the Path to those who desire to tread it.
I remember that the late Swami T. Subba Row
15
once told us that its precepts had several layers of meaning—that they could be
taken over and over again as directions for different stages. First, they are
useful for the aspirants—those who are treading the probationary path. Then they
begin all over again at a higher level for him who has entered upon the Path
proper through the portal of the first of the great Initiations. And yet again,
when Adeptship has been attained, it is said that once more, in some still
higher sense, these same precepts may be taken as directions for one who presses
onwards to still higher achievements. In this way, for the man who can
understand it in the whole of its mystic meaning, this manual carries us farther
than any other. These books which are definitely written for the quickening of
the evolution of those who are on the Path put forward ideals which men in the
world are usually not prepared to accept. Even among students there may be some
who wonder at the form in which the teaching is given. The only way to
understand it is to take it for granted and try to live it. In At the Feet of
the Master it is said that it is not enough to say that it is poetic and
beautiful; a man who wishes to succeed must do exactly what the Master says,
attending to every word and taking every hint. That is equally true of this
book. The man who does not try to live according to the teaching will constantly
come up against points in it which will ruffle him—with which he will find
himself quite out of agreement; but if he tries to live it, the sense in which
it is to be taken will eventually dawn upon him. Any honest effort really to
live the
16
teaching always throws light on it, and that is the only way in which this
priceless pearl can be appreciated. In such books there is a great deal more
meaning that the actual words convey. Therefore to a large extent each man gets
out of them what he brings -to them—he brings the power to assimilate a certain
part of their message and obtains only that part. Merely to read these books,
even to study them, is therefore not enough; it is necessary to meditate over
them as well. If one takes the passages that sound a little difficult—the
cryptic, mystical, paradoxical statements—and thinks and meditates over them,
one gets a great deal more out of them, although often one can hardly express
it.
I try to express what occurs to me with regard to these different points, what
they have meant to me, but I am conscious all the time that I am not at all
fully conveying my meaning. I know, very often, I cannot express the whole idea
that is in my mind; when I put it into words it sounds quite commonplace, and
yet I can see for myself a vast amount of higher meaning. I see that perhaps
with my mental body. The same thing is true at each level. In addition to what
we can realize with the mental body, there is still more that can be realized
only with the causal body and through intuition. Whatever we express, there will
always be something deeper still budding and coming to flower within us. That
man is only an expression of the Eternal, and that nothing that is out of the
Eternal can aid us, is true, and it is the truth upon which the three writers of
this book constantly insist.
CHAPTER 2 THE FOUR PRELIMINARY STATEMENTS
Before the eyes can see they must be incapable of tears.
A.B.—This is the first of four statements which describe the four qualifications
preliminary to the Path proper. They describe true sight, true hearing, true
speech and true standing in the presence of the Master, that is to say, true
ability to serve mankind under his direction.
This and the following three statements are intended for two classes of
disciples. In the first class are those who are on the probationary path, and
are therefore being taught to get rid of all that we speak of as the
personality; these preliminary instructions are intended to show them that they
must begin by eliminating the lower self. In the second class are those who are
already initiated. Something more is demanded from them. They must get rid of
their individuality, the reincarnating ego, so that at the end of the Path their
life will be entirely under the direction of the Monad.
18
We shall see therefore that each of these four statements can be taken as
affecting the personality or the individuality, and according to the position of
the student who is trying to live out their teaching will be the point of view
from which he will understand them.
It is worth while to notice and remember that these statements can be taken from
two quite different points of view in another way also. These teachings come
from Masters of the White Lodge,1 but exactly the same statements are made by
those who follow the black magic of the dark side of life, whom we sometimes
speak of as the Brothers of the Shadow or of Darkness.1 There are two ways in
which the eyes may become incapable of tears, and according to his motive will
be the path along which the aspirant will go. One way is that of the man who
aspires to become a disciple of the dark side; he will take this statement as
teaching complete indifference to pleasure and pain by means of hardening the
heart and avoiding all sympathy. Anyone who tries to become incapable of tears
by killing out all feeling will be going towards the dark path. The man on the
other way is becoming incapable of tears only as far as his own personal sorrows
are concerned. His own lower nature does not move him, but he is fully awake to
the feelings of others. Only at his peril can a man become indifferent to the
sufferings of others.
1Readers are reminded that terms "white" and "dark "do not relate to color, but
to the light and dark sides of life.
THE FOUR PRELIMINARY STATEMENTS
We may contrast the two ways in a table:
19
DARK PATH |
WHITE PATH |
1 . Shuts out all feeling of sorrow. |
Increases the power of feeling until it responds to every vibration of
others. |
2. Puts up a wall round oneself, to shut out all sorrows. |
Throws down every wall or barrier that separates and prevents one from
feeling the sorrows of others. |
3. Fundamentally c o n -tracts the life. |
Expands the life, as one tries to pour oneself into the lives of others. |
4. Leads to death, and destruction, and avichi. |
Leads to life, immortality, and nirvana. |
The fundamental difference between the two ways is that the first tends towards
separateness all the time, and ends up in a condition of absolute isolation,
while the second aims constantly at union, and ends in a state of perfect unity.
The aspirant on the white path has gradually to eliminate everything in himself
which can receive from the outer world anything which he feels as pain affecting
himself, anything which shakes him through his personality, any sorrow or
trouble of any kind which works upon him as concerning his personal self. He
must reach a point where he is incapable of feeling sorrows for his own separate
interest. In fact, he is to aim at making his kamic sheath entirely a vehicle of
the Higher
20
Self, with no independent life of its own. It is to have neither attractions nor
repulsions, neither desires nor wishes, neither hopes nor fears—the whole of
that is to be eliminated. This should not convey the mistaken idea that the
sheath is to be destroyed; but it must cease to respond on its own account to
impressions from the outer world. Only the separated life must be killed out,
but the sheath must be kept for use in the service of humanity.
This change that the disciple must make in his own character is definitely shown
in the constitution of the sheath. In the ordinary disciple it is constantly
changing its colours; but when it is purified and all the separate life is
purged away it remains a colourless and radiant vehicle, only affected by the
reflections that come from the inner life; it has then no colour of its own, but
only that which is thrown upon it from the Higher Self, it resembles the
appearance of the moon on water—a pearly radiance, in which there is a certain
play which can hardly be called colour. This change takes place very gradually
in the astral body of the disciple while he is working at the difficult task of
making himself responsive to all the sorrows of his fellow-men, but more and
more indifferent to all which affects himself. It would be very easy for him to
kill out every feeling, but to become increasingly sensitive to the feelings of
others and at the same time not to permit any personal feelings to come in, is
the much more difficult task set before the aspirant. As he goes on with the
work, however, he will find that his selfish emotions quietly
21
disappear as they become converted into unselfish emotions.
The disciple may test the quality and genuineness of his sympathy by looking to
see whether or not he feels it when the suffering of others is not intruded upon
his notice. If you see a person suffering, or if you come across a case of gross
ill-usage, no doubt you feel pain, but do you feel the same pain when the person
is not before your sight ? Our sympathy is an exceedingly poor thing if it is
excited only by the sight of suffering. Send a person out into a great city like
London, and he may be terribly affected by the suffering that he sees around
him; but take him away from it all and he will soon forget the miseries he has
witnessed and will become perfectly happy. The disciple has to learn to live as
if the whole of that suffering were present before him all the time; to relieve
it must be the motive of his work.
No one has reached the stage where he is responsive to the great cry of pain,
spoken of in The Voice of the Silence, unless his motive in life is to help
humanity whether the suffering be before his eyes or not, for that is the real
motive-power of a disciple. The best way to get rid of personality, to grow
indifferent to one's own personal joys and sorrows, to become incapable of
tears, is to let the mind think upon the sorrow of the world and the ways of
helping it; that causes the personal self to be seen in. its true place beside
the larger self of the great orphan humanity.
22
When the disciple passes through Initiation and begins to develop the buddhic
consciousness, this incapacity for tears takes on a new character. He then
begins to understand the word evolution, to realize that in man it means the
unfoldment of the higher triad; then he begins to see the real use and object of
all the suffering and pain. He gradually becomes incapable of tears because he
understands the value of the suffering to those who are undergoing it, because
he sees that when pain comes to a man it does so as an absolute necessity for
the higher development of his soul. It is true that theoretically the man might
have avoided that suffering if he had acted wisely in the past, for it is the
result of his past karma when it is not produced by his present follies; but the
practical aspect of the matter is that the man has been foolish, has elected to
learn through this kind of experience instead of through wisdom, because he has
not always chosen to follow the best he knew, and now he is suffering, and the
pain is bringing him wisdom for the future, and is thereby promoting his
evolution.
Realizing this, the disciple reaches a condition in which he may be described as
full of the most perfect sympathy but without regret. The sense of regret conies
in only when the consciousness is unillumined by the buddhic life. When the
buddhic consciousness is felt, the disciple's sympathy increases enormously, but
his regret disappears, and as he rises higher this wider view makes him
incapable of-tears, because in the face of the bitterest suffering to which he
is learning to respond and
23
to feel in himself, he feels also its object and end. He can share in the
suffering to the full, but without the slightest wish that it should be anything
other than it is. The absence of any wish to get rid of the suffering before it
has done its work, can only exist when the consciousness has buddhic
illumination. That is the condition which has been described as the Christ
state. The law is good and the will of the Supreme is perfect, and the suffering
works for a perfect end; therefore the disciple is filled with content and
satisfaction; he feels the suffering, but of grief and sorrow he feels none at
all.
When the disciple reaches this stage his consciousness has become part of the
life of the world. If he thinks of himself as " I " it is as part of that " I "
in which all other " I "s also exist. Now there is for him nothing which is
outside or separate from himself; he identifies himself with the one great life
in whatever stage it may be, whenever it is in need of help. He entirely loses
the sense, which is so common in the world, of some people being outside; he is
in all and with all.
This realization of union makes an enormous difference to the help that the man
is able to give to the world. When he is helping any person he feels his
troubles as his own, not as the difficulties of another, separate from himself.
He sees them exactly as that person does; therefore instead of assisting him
from the outside he is helping him from within. There is a world of difference
between the help given by one from the outside and that which is given from
within: the former
24
is a temporary and adventitious aid, but the inside help adds to the power of
the man's life.
The disciple can reach this state only because he has cultivated sympathy, has
learnt to identify himself with the joys and sorrows of others, has made his own
life a life common to all. Without that, this loss of separate-ness would be
unattainable. The only incapability of tears that he has to know is that which
makes him indifferent to the things that touch the personal self, but leaves him
keenly alive to all that affects the other souls around him.
C.W.L.—Dr Annie Besant has explained with regard to the first four statements in
this book, beginning " Before the eyes can see they must be incapable of tears,"
that they may be taken in quite a wrong way, and are then as acceptable to the
black magician as to ourselves. He would understand them to mean that he must
kill out all feeling, build himself into a shell and shut the sorrows and the
troubles of the world outside it. That is exactly the opposite of the teaching
given to the pupil on the white path, who is taught to increase his power of
feeling until he attains perfect sympathy with the sufferings of his fellow-men.
We hear a good deal about the black magicians, but I fancy that few people know
much about them. I have met many specimens of the genus, and can therefore claim
to know something of their nature and methods. Some of them are very interesting
people, but by no means desirable acquaintances. There are many different types
who are classed under the general title of black
25
magician. For instance, the Negroes in South Africa and in the West Indies, and
probably the Aborigines of Australia, practise a good deal of petty black magic.
It. is a very poor thing; even they themselves admit that it does not work on
white people. One has heard of certain cases in which they have succeeded in
making white people exceedingly uncomfortable, but one must add that it was made
possible by the kind of life those people led. Such magic depends for its
success largely upon the fear of the people upon whom the incantations are laid,
yet it is a real enough thing in its feeble way. These primitive people have
certain drugs, they know how to hypnotize, and they have power over some
low-class earth-spirits and similar entities. They contrive to cause sickness to
a man, or in his family, or among his flocks and herds, or to blast his gardens
and fields so that they will not bear crops; though in the latter case they are
not above aiding their magic sometimes by saltpetre as well.
There is another set of people, somewhat more dignified, who are pursuing occult
power for their own ends. They have learnt a certain amount of
occultism—sometimes quite a good deal—but they are using their power selfishly.
They often contrive to gain money and position by such means, and to maintain
themselves in that position until they die. After their death they sometimes
make an attempt to carry on the same general line, but it meets with indifferent
success, and their plans break down; every thing sooner or later fails them and
they fall back into a condition of considerable
26
misery. A life such as that means quite a definite step back for the ego.
Yet another and more advanced type of black magician does not desire anything
for himself. He does not seek to obtain money or power or influence or anything
of that sort, and that at once makes him very much more powerful. He leads a
pure and self-controlled life, just as some of our own people might do, but he
has set before himself the goal of separateness. He wants to keep himself alive
on higher planes, free from absorption into the Logos; he looks with horror upon
that which for us is the greatest felicity. He wishes to maintain his own
position exactly as it is, and furthermore he claims that he can do it, that the
human will is strong enough to withstand the cosmic will up to a certain point.
I have met men like that, and Dr. Besant, who is always trying to save even the
most unlikely souls, has set herself once or twice to convert people who have
got themselves into that condition, so as to bring them round to our way of
thinking—though not with very much success, I am afraid. She sometimes says to
them. " You know what the end will be. You know quite enough of the laws of
nature, and you are sufficiently intelligent to see whither your path is leading
you. It is quite certain that in the end you must collapse. When this manvantara
ends, when this planetary chain is over you will be absorbed, whether you will
or not, into the Logos at higher levels, and what will be your condition then?"
27
" You do not actually know that," they reply, " yet we admit that that appears
to be what will happen. But we tell you frankly that we do not care. We are well
satisfied with our present position; we are able to maintain our individuality
against any effort to draw us into the Logos for a very long time, even till the
end of the manvantara. Whether we can hold it after that we do not know, and we
do not care. Whether we can or not, we shall have had our day."
That is an arguable position, and the man who adopts it may be not exactly a
good man, but he need not be a bad man, in the ordinary sense of the word. He
certainly has a great deal of satanic pride in his composition, but he is not
necessarily spiteful nor evil-minded with regard to other people. Still he is
absolutely unscrupulous. Anyone who happened to get in his way he would brush
aside with far less consideration than we should give to a mosquito. But te a
man who did not stand in his way he might be quite a good friend, and there is
not necessarily any active evil in his composition. He is not at all a monster
of evil, but he is a man who has struck out a line for himself and is following
it at the cost of all that to us means progress. That is all we have a right to
say against him. We are confident that he will end in great disaster; he is not
so sure of that, and in any case he is willing to face it.
As a rule these people are sufficient unto themselves, and they distrust and
despise everybody else. That is always characteristic of anyone who is on the
dark path; he is right and everybody else is wrong. He looks down
28
on everybody else. People talk sometimes about a black brotherhood. There is no
such thing. There could not be any true brotherhood among them, but they do
occasionally join together in face of an imminent peril or when something
threatens any of their plans. At best it is a very loose alliance, formidable
only because of the tremendous power that some of them possess. It does happen
now and again that the work that some of our Masters are doing for the evolution
of the world crosses their tracks, and then they become formidable enemies. They
cannot touch our Masters— I think that must be very irritating to them—but they
sometimes get hold of one of their pupils, and so cause them a little trouble or
some disappointment, if we can suppose that a Master would feel disappointment.
The reason of all the warnings given to us to beware of these people is that we
shall find them trying sometimes to mislead us. Madame Blavatsky, who knew a
great deal about them and had a wholesome respect for them, rather gave the
impression that they were tempting demons who exult in evil for its own sake.
This would be true only of those at a lower level; the more powerful of them
would consider it quite undignified to exult in anything; but their plans, which
are always entirely selfish, may sometimes involve a great deal of harm to
certain people. They are as calm and self-contained and as passionless as any
disciple of the Master; in fact, they are more so, because they have killed out
all feeling intentionally. They would not injure a man merely for the sake of
doing harm, but, as
29
I said before, in pursuit of some end of their own which his existence
interferes with, they would not hesitate to sweep him out of their way. Those
whose work it is to assist people astrally sometimes come across their victims,
and in that case the man who tries to help often brings down upon himself also
the determined opposition of the black magician.
To return to our main topic. It is very difficult to learn to respond to
feelings, and yet not permit one's personality to show itself in any way—to be
in perfect sympathy with the feelings of others, and yet have none our own. Many
people are very much disturbed by the sight of the suffering of others, but if
they do not actually see that suffering they forget it. Many of the richer
people in a city like London, for example, when taken to see the terrible misery
in the slums, are very much affected, and will at once do all they can to
relieve the particular cases that they see: yet the same people will go off to
their hunting and fishing and pleasure, and absolutely forget that there is any
misery. In that case the sorrow is only partly for the other person's suffering;
it is largely merely the personal pain of having that suffering intruded on
their notice. That kind of sympathy is a poor thing—it is not real sympathy at
all.
When we fully realize the suffering of humanity we gradually lose sight of our
own. We forget that we have personal sufferings because we see that the
sufferings of humanity are so great, and we realize that that which falls to our
lot is after all only our part of the general burden. A man who can get into
that state of mind has
30
already very largely transcended his personality. He sorrows still for humanity,
but no longer for himself; he has become incapable of tears as far as his own
personal joys and sorrows are concerned.
It is not an easy matter to regard the sufferings of others accurately. Dr.
Besant and I some years ago investigated the question of the influence of pain
upon different people undergoing what from the outside would be regarded as the
same physical suffering. We found that in an extreme case one person was
suffering perhaps a thousand times more than another, and that in ordinary life
one might quite often feel pain a hundred times more than another. If one shows
signs of suffering and another does not, it must not be assumed that the latter
is necessarily braver or more philosophic. It may not be the case. We looked
into the question of the amount of suffering which was inflicted on different
people by the ignominies of prison life; to some persons they meant practically
nothing, to others the most intense mental and emotional suffering. So it is
futile to say: " I do not feel such and such a thing, and therefore other
persons ought not to feel it either." One does not know to what degree or in
what proportion others are feeling. I have found that many things which do not
matter in the least to me may nevertheless cause serious pain to others; whereas
it has been quite the reverse as regards other things, such as unpleasant
sounds, for example which often cause suffering to those who are developing
their finer senses. I have seen Dr. Besant in a condition of positive agony when
a great ammunition
31
wagon went clanging by the house where we were staying in Avenue Road, in
London. This does not mean, of course, that she lost control of her nerves. She
has often explained that while the disciple must increase his sensitiveness he
must also control his nervous system, so as to bear without flinching whatever
pain or disturbance may come to him.
Before the ear can hear it must have lost its sensitiveness.
A.B.—The disciple must become entirely indifferent to the opinions of others
about himself, as far as his own feelings are concerned. If they think and speak
well of him he is not to be elated; if ill, he is not to be depressed. Yet at
the same time he must not be indifferent to the opinions of others as they
affect the people who hold them. He is not, therefore, to be careless with
regard to the impressions which he makes upon others, for if he repels them by
his conduct he loses his power to help them.
The disciple, in the course of his progress, develops his psychic powers, and so
becomes conscious of what others are thinking about him; he is then living in a
world in which he may hear everything said about him, and may see every
criticism in the mind of another. He reaches this point when he has risen above
all criticism, and is not affected by the opinions of others. Some people are
very anxious to develop clairvoyance before they have reached this stage, but if
they realized
32
this fact the astral consciousness which they so much desire would lose its
attraction.
C.W.L.—It must not be thought that the developed person who hears
uncomplimentary remarks about himself and is profoundly indifferent to them
deliberately nerves himself against the feeling of irritation, and says: " That
is all very dreadful, but I refuse to care; I will not pay any attention to it."
He passes, no doubt, through a stage like that, but very soon he reaches a state
where he absolutely and utterly does not care, when it is just like the
twittering of birds, or like the cicadas whistling in the trees—they may be a
nuisance, but that is all. He does not pick out one particular cicada and listen
to its tone alone, nor does he single out the thought or the word of any one
person who is saying something silly.
We must all try to reach that stage. We are constantly putting it before people,
because it is the attitude of our Masters into whose " world " we are trying to
go. They may very properly think: " How can we hope to attain to the attitude of
these Great Ones?" Of course, no one can do it immediately, but we ought to be
aiming at it and trying to get as near to it as we can, and one of the ways of
doing that—a method which is really quite easy—is just not to mind in the least
what other people say.
When we have reached that attitude the next step is to think of the bad karma
these people are making in thinking or speaking wrongly about us. We may then
regret it for their sake, and for that reason it is well that
33
we should endeavour not to give more cause than we can help for foolish and
depreciatory remarks—not in the least because they matter to us, but because
they make bad karma for the people who indulge in them.
Before the voice can speak in the presence of the Masters it must have lost the
power to wound.
A.B.—The disciple must lose everything in himself which can give pain to
another. In the earlier stages he has to learn to eliminate from his speech all
that can give pain—not merely harsh criticism or unkind language, but every form
of word that hurts another by implying disparagement or drawing attention to a
fault in his character. It is true that some people are in a position in which
it is their duty sometimes to point out his fault to another; but it is a
mistaken view that he is justified in inflicting pain while doing so. When the
fault is pointed out in a perfectly friendly manner, the element of wounding is
not present. Whenever the speech wounds it is due to some imperfection in
carrying out the duty; the would-be helper has failed to identify himself with
the person addressed; he is giving advice only from the outside, and therefore
it hurts. If he had unified himself with the other person, and tried to help at
the same time feeling as he feels, he would have brought out the other person's
emotion in a sympathetic way; through the consciousness of his sympathy the
other would have had his nobler and wider side awakened, and then the advice
would not have been wounding. If it is your duty to criticize another and you
find that
34
it wounds him, look into yourself to find the imperfection that caused the
wound. If we are to lose the power to wound, the separate individuality must go;
when we feel ourselves as one life, it becomes impossible for us to inflict
suffering upon anything, as it is part of ourselves. The way to reach that point
of evolution is to begin by gradually purifying the speech, taking the more
salient faults first.
C.W.L.—Anyone who wishes to approach the Master must already have given up the
desire to wound others by his speech. But there is still the possibility of
wounding unintentionally and unconsciously, on account of want of sensitiveness.
As we go further and raise our consciousness to a higher level we shall more and
more understand how things strike others. Those who have been practising
meditation for many years will notice that they have become more sensitive, have
made a certain amount of progress towards unity, and therefore they understand
the people about them just a little better than those who have not made such an
effort. We hear someone make what we think an unfortunate remark, in all good
faith and without noticing that there is anything wrong with it and that they
have wounded somebody. We who have sharpened our senses just a little by thought
and study and the endeavour to live the higher life feel instinctively how the
third person will take that remark. We can see that it is an unfortunate one,
and wish it had been put in some other form.
A Master could not possibly say anything that would hurt another. He might find
it necessary to give
35
something in the nature of a rebuke; but he would manage to put it in such a way
that the man would not be wounded by what he said. Sometimes a disciple finds it
in the line of his duty to act sternly, and he is tempted, through his own
feeling of sympathy, to avoid the task. But if the Higher Self asserts its
dominance he will, if it is absolutely necessary, speak sternly, but also calmly
and judicially, and without indignation.
Before the soul can stand in the presence of the Masters its feet must be washed
in the blood of the heart.
A.B.—This sentence has behind it a very long occult tradition, which has been
given out to the world in many ways. It has to do with the teaching of
sacrifice, which still appears in different religions in various forms, though
they have generally lost its true meaning. The expression used here is connected
with what is sometimes called the blood-sacrifice and the blood-covenant, of
which the strangest traces are to be found among the tribes which are descended
from very ancient races.
In looking up past lives we came across an incident which may be told to
illustrate the idea behind the blood-sacrifice and covenant. Very long ago he
who is now the Master Morya was a great king; he had an only son who was H.P.B.,
who as a boy was placed in charge of the captain of the guard, who was Colonel
Olcott. One day, when the boy was alone with the captain, some conspirators who
had plotted to slay him rushed in and would have killed him, but the captain
threw himself in
36
between and saved the boy at the cost of his own life. The youth was only
stunned, but the captain lay upon him dying, and as the blood poured from his
death-wound he touched it with his finger art placed it on the feet of the
king. The king asked: " What can I do for you who have given your life for me
and my son ? " The dying captain replied: " Grant that your son and I may serve
you in other lives for ever." Then the monarch said: " For the blood which has
been shed for me and mine, the bond between us shall never be broken." In the
course of time the king became a Master, and the bond between them remained and
ripened into that between Master and disciple, and it will remain for ever
unbroken. In sacrificing the life of the body the captain made a tie which gave
him the true life which the disciple gains from the Master.
I mention the story because it illustrates a great truth; just in proportion as
we are strong enough to sacrifice whatever to us is the life, to pour out the
life-blood of the lower at the feet of the higher, is the life really gained,
not lost. All evolution of young humanity is made by the voluntary sacrifice of
the lower life to the higher; when that sacrifice is completely made, it is
found that life instead of being lost is made immortal. The outer sign of the
sacrifice helped persons to understand the principle more readily, and drew
attention to the fundamental truth that it is only when the lower life is
sacrificed to the higher that it finds its own true fulfillment of evolution. On
that truth the sacrifices which are found in many religions were originally
based; that
37
is how what is called the blood-bond is really made. The lower life is
sacrificed for the higher life, and the higher accepts the lower and lifts it up
by the bond that is never broken.
The disciple must wash his feet in the blood of the heart. He must make a
complete offering of everything that he loves and values, of what seems to him
his very life; but he loses this only to find his higher life. It is not usually
an actual shedding of blood that is required, though that does become necessary
sometimes; it is symbolically the shedding of blood always so far as the pupil
is concerned at the time, because he feels the loss. He does literally sacrifice
what to him amounts to life, and it looks as though he were giving it up
completely, without any future possibility of regaining it. The great testing of
the completeness of the disciple's sacrifice is made in order to discover
whether the soul is strong enough to throw itself voluntarily into nothingness,
to draw out the heart's blood completely, without any hope of reward. If the
disciple is not strong enough to do that he is not ready to stand in the
presence of the Master. But if he can completely throw away everything that he
knows as his life, then all the testimony of the past and the truth of the law
declare that he will find that life again in a life stronger and higher than
that which he laid down. It is only when that sacrifice is made that the
disciple finds himself in the higher life, standing in the presence of the
Masters. Then the degree of his strength is the extent of his power to make the
sacrifice without feeling it.
38
C.W.L.—The meaning of this sentence is that the man who wishes to stand in the
presence of the Masters must have sacrificed the lower self to the higher. The
feet of the soul, the personality on earth, must be washed in the heart's blood
of the emotions before the higher life can be gained.
That is a general law of life. The little child takes great pleasure in playing
with its toys; soon it grows up into boyhood, and the lower playthings have been
outgrown and put aside, in order that proficiency may be gained in the higher
kind of sports. When the youth goes to college he will many a time perhaps give
up a game in the fresh air, which he would very much prefer, in order to work at
his books. At other times he will put aside something he would very much like to
read, in order to slave at Greek verbs or other apparently uninteresting and not
very useful studies. If he goes into training for a race, or for rowing, he has
to sacrifice the enjoyment of good dinners, and live in a frugal and rigid way
until the race is over.
On the occult path many pleasures connected with the outer world are seen to be
a waste of time. There may be cases when it is a real effort to part with them,
when there is a call from the higher life, and the aspirant responds to that
call at a certain amount of cost to the lower nature. Then he must cast aside
the lower in order to have the higher; but later on the attraction of the lower
will have disappeared entirely. When a man once fully realizes the higher, the
lower simply ceases to exist for him, but in many cases he has to cast aside
39
the lower before he really enters into the glory and the joy and the beauty of
the spiritual life.
I have known many whose opportunities were good but who shrank back just at that
point, and failed because they were not ready to give up all that they had
previously enjoyed, and apparently receive nothing in return for it. Sometimes a
man is afraid to let go of one thing until he can grasp the other, and so he
holds fast to the lower; but it does not satisfy him, because he has glimpsed
the higher. To give up everything at the Master's call—one wonders whether one
could do it; one always thought and hoped that one would, but when it comes to
the point can you do it fully and cheerfully ? Many have worked for years and
years, and wonder why they do not attain, why they are not among those whom the
Master is able to draw very close to himself. The reason is always the same; it
is the personality in some form that keeps them back. This giving up of
everything is not a thing to be done with constant backsliding —giving up one
day, and grasping and trying to keep the next—nor is it to be done with pride,
with the pose: " I have given up everything." That is quite the wrong attitude;
it should be done as a matter of course, and cheerfully. The person who is going
to succeed will feel that there is nothing else for him to do but to make the
great renunciation when the moment comes.
CHAPTER 3 THE FIRST RULE
Kill out. . . .
A.B.—The expression " kill out" appears at the beginning of the first six short
rules. It is important not to misunderstand it. There are two ways of getting
rid of or killing out an evil thought, an evil habit or an evil act. Let us
consider the thought first, because when that has been removed the other two
very easily follow. Suppose an evil thought comes into a man's mind. He finds
that it tends to repeat itself. Then his first inclination is generally to fight
with it to throw his energy against it and violently turn it out, just as he
would deal with a physical enemy. He wants to get it out of the mind, so he
takes it by the shoulders and flings it out.
That is not the best way. It ignores the great law, which works throughout
nature, that action and reaction are equal and opposite. Take a ball and throw
it against a wall; it will rebound and strike you, gently if you have thrown it
gently, but with great force if you have flung it violently. The same principle
is true everywhere. Suppose you turn a thought out of the mind
41
with violence; there will be a decided reaction. The recoil will give you a
definite sense of exhaustion, and the thought may come back to you with
increased force. The strength that you have put out has then taken form as
thought, and has come back to you again, and you have to repeat the struggle. In
that way a man may in some cases fight for weeks and months and even years, and
yet be none the better for it. Still, in time it is possible to kill out evil
thought by this means, though with it you will also kill out a large amount of
your own force and energy, of your thought-power, so that a certain hardness and
lack of responsiveness of some area of the mental body will be the result of the
struggle.
The other way of killing it out is to substitute for the bad thought a good
thought of exactly opposite nature. You first deliberately study the matter and
decide what is the opposite, the exact antithesis, of the evil thought. You
formulate the new thought quietly in your mind, and then, at the very moment
when the evil thought comes into your mind, you substitute for it the opposite
good thought. Thus for pride you might substitute kindness, for anger affection,
for fear admiration, and for low material desires thoughts of purity, dignity,
honour, and the like; or you might dwell with devotional thought upon the mental
image of the Master as having the good quality, and forget yourself in thinking
of him.
The human mind cannot concentrate on two separate things at once; so when you
give your attention to the good thought the result is that the evil thought is
42
expelled without your directing any force towards it. Thus no mental energy is
wasted, no vitality is lost. The good thought soon gains strength, and the mind
becomes impervious to the attacks of the bad thought, and irresponsive to its
kind; so you have practically killed out the evil by intensifying and vitalizing
the opposite good. It is as if we sucked the life out of the bad thought, and
left it a mere shell. Bad thoughts are most effectively killed by such
devitalization.
We have thus two ways of killing out; the former on the line of death, the
latter on that of growth. One is the plan which is chiefly used by those who are
beginning to tread the left-hand path, who are turning against the way of the
divine Will. The other is that of evolution in accordance with the divine Plan.
We are free to choose which we will follow of these two great roads. All the
things of the world are in evolution, moving on one or the other of these paths.
Those parts of the world in which Ishvara is developing His Image have a certain
free will, which consists in their being able to work with the divine Will or
away from it as separate individuals. Those who work with Him ultimately tread
the right-hand path, but those who deliberately choose the separated self are
preparing themselves to tread the left-hand path. Speaking generally: all that
leads to isolation tends to turn a man's direction to the left, and all that
tends to unity towards the right. People of the left-hand path kill out
sympathy, affection and love, because they find that those qualities bring
misery, and also stand in the way of their gaining
43
power. The killing out process is generally taken therefore by those who want to
gain power and the other things that they consider desirable in this life, for
the firm establishment and the enjoyment of the separated self, careless of the
good of the whole, entirely bent upon their own individual progress and gain.
They will kill violently all that side of their own nature the response to which
would be an obstacle in the path of power. They will kill out affection also,
because it is an avenue of pain, and it is far easier to become indifferent by
killing out affection than by becoming more and more sensitive.
But the way we have been taught is that of union, the path in which the disciple
becomes responsive to every cry of pain, as was so emphatically taught in The
Voice of the Silence.1 The disciple must intensify his life, not minimize it; he
must submit to the law, not fight against it. Then of course the law will be
with him. His method is something like that art of wrestling which is taught in
Japan, in which conquest is gained by yielding to one's antagonist; the man
constantly yields to his opponent, but at the critical moment he turns in such a
way that the force of his antagonist tells against himself. This is the nature
of the yoga of the right-hand path; of it Shri Krishna says in the Gita: " In
this there is no loss of effort, nor is there transgression." 2
C.W.L.—Many people, when they are told to kill out a desire, start making what
may be described as a violent raid upon it. They want to kill out a certain
1 Ante., Vol. II, pp. 137-45. 2 Op. cit., 11, 40.
44
evil quality, so they set themselves very strongly, angrily almost, against that
quality. One result of this is that one stirs up whatever forces exist, inside
and outside, which are tending in the opposite direction, into the most violent
opposition possible, and the consequence is a serious struggle. If a man is
sufficiently determined he will come out conqueror in the end, but in many cases
he will waste a large amount of his own force and energy and thought-power, and
leave himself much exhausted and depleted.
I can testify that the method of substitution works very much better, for I have
tried both. It is a sort of moral ju jutsu whereby you employ the force of the
hostile power to help you. You do not so much attack the foe as concentrate all
your attention on the opposite virtue. If for example, a man is inclined to be
readily upset and disturbed, he should not fight hard against that, but instead
should think constantly of calmness, of peace and philosophy. Presently that
thought will become established by habit, and he will find that the old worry
and lack of calmness have passed away without his making a desperate fight. If
he surrounds himself with thought-forms such as "Do not be irritable," and so
on, they are still of the colour of irritability, and they react undesirably on
him. But if he thinks strongly, " Be calm, be gentle, be peaceful," he sets up
vibrations appropriate to and productive of peace and harmony. We do not want to
set one vice to fight another vice, but we want to ignore all these things and
work up the opposite virtue; by doing that the effect
45
will be just as good and we shall achieve it with far less trouble.
We say: " Kill out desire," but not, " Kill out emotion." l The higher emotions
must be encouraged always, and the stronger they are the better. Especially is
this true of love and devotion, which one should deliberately cultivate. When a
man feels a great rush of such an emotion as these his aura expands; his astral
body becomes perhaps ten times its normal size in the case of the ordinary
person, and much more than that when the man really knows how to use his higher
vehicles. When the great paroxysm of feeling is over the aura contracts again,
but not exactly to what it was before; having been much stretched it remains at
least a little larger than before. The first effect of the expansion is a
rarefaction of the astral body, but it very speedily draws in more astral matter
to fill the larger space, so as to make it up to about its normal density.
The astral body is definitely needed in order that by means of it one may be
able to sympathize with people, and also because of its function as a reflector
of the buddhic body. In the case of a developed person there is no colour in his
astral body except what is mirrored from the higher planes; it only reflects and
shows the most delicate tints of colour. 2
There are three ways in which the higher Self is connected with the
personality.3 The higher mind is
1 See also ante., Vol. II, pp. 139-40.
* Ante., Vol. Ill, Chap, on The Four Preliminary Statements.
' Ante., Vol. II, p. 333.
46
reflected in the lower. The buddhi or intuition is reflected a stage lower than
the mind, in the astral body. There is also the possibility of connection
between atma and the physical brain. The last is the most difficult to
understand; it shows tremendous power of will, which moves without consideration
of the means by which its object is to be achieved. It is the method of the
first ray, to which Dr. Besant belongs. She has that great power of deciding
that something shall be done, without stopping to consider the methods to be
employed until afterwards. We do not know the limits of the human will. It has
been said that faith may remove mountains and cast them into the sea. I do not
know whether there would be any particular purpose to be served in doing that,
if it can be done, but I have certainly seen very wonderful results accomplished
by the human will, and I do not know where the limits of that power are set.
Incredible things are done, more especially on the higher planes, by the mere
action of will. When I had to take up the study of materialization, for example,
according to my way of progress I had to learn exactly how it was to be done—a
complicated process involving a good deal of knowledge of the different
materials to be brought together and how they could best be arranged. But I have
known a person, who knew nothing whatever about it, to drive straight in by the
tremendous force of will and produce the same result, without gathering together
all the complicated things that were necessary, and without in the least knowing
how it was done. Such will is one of the divine powers latent in all of us, but
in
47
very few does it ever come to the surface and produce such a result without a
long course of careful training. I think that for most people the easiest of the
three ways of making connection with the higher Self is to bring together the
higher and lower minds, by passing from concrete to abstract thought, or from
analysis to synthesis. But I have seen cases in which a person has been able to
reach the buddhic consciousness without disturbing the relations between the
mental and causal bodies at all. When it can be done, I have heard on high
authority that this unification of the buddhic and astral bodies is the shortest
of all roads to the goal, but the capacity to do it is gained only as the result
of much suffering in previous lives. Those for whom that is the line raise
themselves by the intensity of their love of devotion into the buddhic vehicle
and effect a junction there, before they have developed the lower mind to
anything like a level where it can work in with the higher mind, and before they
have developed the causal body itself. Of course these two bodies must be
developed, they cannot be overlooked; the aspirant will work upon the lower mind
from the astral body, developing it and learning whatever has to be learnt, on
account of his love and devotion. The pupil loves his Master so intensely that
for his sake he will learn what is needed, and will thus develop whatever
intellect is necessary. He also acts upon the causal body from above, and pours
into it the buddhic conception, and so forces it to express that as far as it
can do so in its own way.
48
I. Kill out ambition.
A.B.—We now turn to the first rule, dealing with ambition in particular. The
undeveloped man is strongly held by the attractions of the senses; he desires
physical luxury and bodily enjoyment. He does not feel ambition, which is the
desire for power, until the mind is highly developed and the intellectual power
has grown strong. The note of the intellect is " I ". It causes the man to feel
himself separate, and that invariably leads him to wish to exercise power,
because that desire is the self-assertion of the individual soul. He feels
himself superior to all around him, and that shows as a desire for physical
authority. From that comes the temptation to seek and grasp social and political
power. In the political and social sphere ambition is the great moving force;
for the man who by his intellect has gained influence over his fellow-men,
stands out as their leader and this is a position which is incense in the
nostrils of the proud and superior man.
Then the man begins to despise outer power over the bodies of men, and there
comes into his mind the realization of a subtler form of power, which he now
seeks to obtain. He no longer wants to lay down laws with physical authority; he
has the subtler longing to dominate and rule the minds of men. That is
intellectual ambition—the ambition to be a leader of thought. It is not an
ambition which would move anyone who had not a largely developed intellect.
49
Still later, when that desire has been outgrown, ambition reappears in a yet
subtler form, when the man passes on into the spiritual life. He thinks of the
spiritual progress as made by himself for his own sake, because he wants to grow
and understand and progress; the old ambition is really still holding him, and
it is more dangerous because it is higher and subtler. That is why in the note
to this aphorism the Master makes the remarkable statement that the pure artist,
who works for the love of his work, is sometimes more firmly planted on the
right road than the occultist who fancies he has removed his interest from self,
but who has in reality only enlarged the limits of experience and desire, and
transferred his interest to things which concern his larger span of life. The
occultist is no longer confined to the ambitions of his present incarnation, yet
his ambition may not be dead. He no longer cares to be a law-giver or ruler of
mankind, nor even an arbitrator in the thoughts of men; but he desires to be
high in the spiritual world. He realizes that he is going to live life after
life, and his ambition extends to the whole span of that greater life. He is
still longing to be first, to be separate, to be what others are not. Yet that
too must be overcome.
When one speaks to those who desire to be part of the universal life, the very
first thing that one must tell them is to kill out that which makes for
separateness. There would, however, be no gain in putting such an ideal before
the ordinary man. He cannot leap at once from the worldly life into a spiritual
life in which he is in full
50
activity, but nevertheless doing nothing connected with the personal or the
individual self. If you tell an ordinary man of the world to kill out ambition,
and if he does it, the effect will not be a desirable one, for he will fall into
lethargy and do nothing.
Suppose a man is further on than that, is on the probationary path; how should
he read this rule about ambition ? Most wisely by applying the word kill to the
lower form of ambition; he should in fact understand it to mean transmute. He
should get rid of ambition for the things of the world, but put before himself
something higher for which he can be ambitious. That would be the desire for
spiritual knowledge and growth. At this stage a man does not get rid of ambition
totally; he enters an intermediate state, and will make great progress if he
puts before himself as his goal the attainment of spiritual knowledge and the
object of finding the Master and ultimately becoming a Master himself. Really
these are all ambitions, but they will help him to shake off many of the lower
shackles which enwrap his personality.
This quality of ambition which the disciple has to kill out had its uses in his
earlier evolution. It was a means to make the man's individuality firm and
steady. In the earlier stages he grew by his isolation. It was then requisite
for the evolution of the physical and mental bodies that there should be
competition and fighting; all those stages of combat and fight were necessary in
order to build up the individual, to make him strong so that he could hold his
own centre. He had to have a place defended from outside aggression, in which he
could
51
develop his strength. He also needed such worldly position as ambition seeks,
just as when you are building a house you need scaffolding. Ambition had many
uses in the earlier stages—to build up the walls and make them denser, to
strengthen the will, and to help to raise the man step by step. A man in whom
ambition predominates also kills out sexual and other lower desires, because
they hinder him in his intellectual growth and his search for power, and thus he
dominates his lower passions. In the early stage man thus needs ambition as a
means of growth.
You would not say to the man of the world: " Kill out ambition," because
ambition stimulates him and draws out his faculties. But when as a disciple the
man is to grow into the spiritual life, he must get rid of the walls that he
built round himself in earlier stages. As after a house is built the scaffolding
must be taken away, so the later part of the man's evolution consists in
rendering the walls translucent, so that all life may pass through them.
Therefore these rules are for disciples, not for the men of the world.
C.VV.L..—Ambition in the undeveloped man shows itself as the desire, let us say,
to gain wealth so that he may satisfy his craving for physical luxury and bodily
enjoyment. Later on, when he develops intellect, he becomes ambitious for power.
Even when a man has transcended the ambition for power and the prizes of this
world, and is working selflessly for the benefit of humanity, there still
remains very often the ambition to see the result of his work.
52
Many people are devoting their time quite willingly and quite earnestly to doing
good work, but they like others to know it, and to say what good and useful
people they are. That also is ambition; mild certainly as compared to some other
kinds, but still it is personal, and anything that is personal stands in the way
of the disciple. The lower self has to be eliminated entirely. It is hard to do
it because the roots are very deep, and when they are torn out the man is left
bleeding, and feeling as though all the heart were gone out of him.
When we have got rid of the desire to see the result of our work, we still have
the desire for recognition in a higher form. We still, perhaps, are ambitious
for love; we want to be popular. It is well and good for a man to be popular, to
draw the love of his fellows, because that very fact is an additional power in
his hands. It enables him to do more than he otherwise could, also it surrounds
him with a pleasant atmosphere which makes all sorts of work easier. But to
desire that in the sense of being ambitious for it is also a thing which we must
avoid. We may rightly be happy if love comes our way; that is well and good—it
is good karma; but if it does not, we must not be ambitious for it. We cannot
seize upon a person and say: " You shall love me, you shall appreciate me." If
his feelings run that way he will; if not he cannot, and to pretend would be
worse than all.
We have to rise above all these stages of ambition which are still found in the
ordinary world. We must give for the joy of giving, whether it be work, or
substance, or love or devotion; whatever it is we must give
53
freely and heartily, and never think of any return; that is the only real love,
not the sort of love which is always saying: " How much does so-and-so love me?
" The real attitude should be: " What can I do to pour myself out at the feet of
the one whom I love ? Of what service can I be? What can I do for him? " That is
the only feeling that is worthy of so grand a title. All that we know perfectly
well, but we must put it into practice. It seems to be difficult, sometimes, to
do that, because there is still a remnant of the lower self to be removed.
For the ordinary man—may be even for the one who is approaching the Path—I think
it would perhaps be well to qualify this rule to some extent, and say: " Kill
out the lower ambitions." It is not advisable to set before the man, who is just
beginning, a standard of conduct which he can only hope to reach after many
years of effort. If a man has worldly ambitions he cannot be expected at once to
drop them all and have nothing to fill their place; that would be scarcely
possible for him, and it is even doubtful whether so sudden a change would be
good for him. He must first transmute his ambitions. Let him, if he will, at
first desire knowledge earnestly, desire to make advance in occultism and
progress in unselfishness; let him desire to draw near to the Master, to be
chosen as a pupil.
Most of us have desires of that sort, but we call them aspirations; the change
of name seems to connote a total change in our attitude, but of course they are
still desires. We shall reach a stage when even those desires will
54
disappear, because we shall be 'absolutely certain that progress depends on our
own efforts only; then we shall no longer desire anything. The Master once said:
" Do not desire a thing; desire is feeble. Witt! " l Do not think of some
quality you want to develop: " I should like to have it," but say: " I will have
it," and go and develop it. That is the only line for a man to take, because
these things are absolutely in his own hands to do or not, as he chooses.
It is a case of transmuting at first. The desire for spiritual growth is a thing
that those who are approaching the Path should no longer be encouraging in
themselves, but there is that intermediate stage when it is very natural. We who
are students ought to be getting to a stage at which we take our spiritual
growth for granted, and fix all our energies on trying to help others. At first
a man does need a personal motive; then he gradually comes to forget himself and
to make his advancement for the sake of the Master, for the sake of pleasing
him, and eventually he learns that he is simply a channel for the great divine
forces, and that he must be a good channel and must have no anxiety whatever
about the result. His one care then is that nothing on his part shall hinder his
being an expression of the Divine—as perfect an expression as is possible for
him. He does not worry in the least about it; he does not desire that his force
may be used in this direction or that; he is simply a tool in the hands of God,
that he
may be used as and how and where God wills. 1 Vol. I, Part V, Ch. 1: Liberation,
Nirvana and Moksha.
55
Of course, we can attain that attitude only by degrees; but we should set it
before ourselves as the state of mind at which we should aim. We must begin by
forgetting ourselves, by rigorously weeding the self out. What if we are not
gaining the advancement which we think to be due to us after so many years of
thought and study, or what if the people whom we help are not grateful for being
helped—generally they are not—all that does not matter.1 Let us forget ourselves
and do the work and let us be entirely indifferent as to any return. Karma will
look after that; we need have no fear. The great laws of the universe are not
going to be altered in order to do an injustice to any one of us, we may be
quite sure. They will work with equal balance; justly they work, even though it
be after many days. Forget yourself; that is the first and the last word of
advice on the occult Path—-there is no other way. However hard it may seem it
has to be done, and has to be done perfectly.
We come now to the first note of the Master Hilarion, which is attached to the
first rule. I will take it bit by bit. It begins:
Ambition is the first curse; the great tempter of the man who is rising above
his fellows. It is the simplest form of looking for reward.
That is rather a curious way of putting it, but it is obviously true. The first
temptation that comes to a man who knows he is rising a little above the rest in
some way is to think of himself as a great man, and this
1 Vol. I, Part III, Ch. 2: The One Good Desire.
56
leads him to resolve that he will rise still further, so that he may enjoy the
pleasure of his pride even more.
Men of intelligence and power are led away from their higher possibilities by it
continually.
How true that is no one can know who is not clairvoyant. Those who are pupils of
the Masters necessarily, I suppose, have the habit of regarding all the people
they meet more or less from the point of view of their possible discipleship.
One sees a man who is in some ways obviously a good man; the first thought that
comes into one's mind about him is: " How near is he to the point when he can
become a pupil of the Master?" To us it is the greatest reward, the most
precious piece of advancement that can come to any man, that he should reach the
stage where he is worth taking in hand by one of these Great Ones, so that his
future evolution may be assured. Attainment is after that merely a matter of
time and, of course, of perseverance and much hard work.
Though it is quite true that for every human being progress is merely a question
of time, for many human beings it is clearly a matter of so very much time that
they may be taken en bloc, so to speak, dealt with in the mass; but the moment
that a man conies near to the stage when conceivably a Master might take him in
hand, he also becomes an object of very keen interest to the pupils of the
Master, and their desire is always to try to help him to the point where
definite contact may become possible. It should always be remembered that
57
it is merely a question of the man's deserts in the matter; there is no
favouritism of any kind. The moment it is worth the Master's while to expend as
much energy as would be required to teach that man he will do so, but it is only
worth his while when he will be able to do more work through the man than lie
himself could do with the same energy devoted to other work.
We meet a large number of people who seem as though they were not far from that
point. They are so good in one way or another, and some are so hopeful all
round, that it seems to us that surely with a very little more of the right
direction of their energies they would be fit for discipleship—and then we are
disappointed to find that it all comes to nothing and they spend their lives in
the ordinary way. Most especially I have noticed that with boys and girls, among
whom it has always been my lot to have to look for hopeful cases. There are many
young people who are quite near the point where, if their energies were just
turned in the right direction, they would make very good subjects indeed for
such progress, and yet they fail to grasp the opportunity. They get drawn into
the competition of ordinary school life, and are swept into a world of lower
thought. It is not bad thought, I do not mean that—though that may happen
sometimes—but they are swept into a sort of whirlpool of comparatively worldly
thought. The goal put before them is generally that of success in some material
way—to become great engineers or great lawyers, or to succeed at the head of
some mercantile house.
58
Not only is a worldly career expected of them by their parents, but the general
trend of public opinion also influences them in that direction, and it is very
hard to escape from the effect of public opinion. It is pressing upon us all the
time in all directions, and so it conies about that these young people, who seem
so nearly ready for the higher thing, seldom reach it. Instead they take up a
very estimable and useful career, but it is just not that higher thing. I have
followed up some cases that seemed to me specially likely, and I have found that
the same thing has sometimes occurred to egos for a number of incarnations. For
a dozen or twenty incarnations they have been very nearly ready, within
measurable distance of taking that great step, but each time they have turned
aside from it, and practically always it has been worldly ambition that has led
them away from their higher possibilities.1
When the Master Hilarion says that men of intelligence and power are continually
led away from their higher possibilities by ambition, I think he must have had
cases in mind very similar to those which I have just described, because those
to whom the higher possibilities lie open must necessarily be men of
intelligence and power, not mere ordinary men. He does not say that ambition
ruins their lives, but only that higher possibilities exist for them from which
it leads them away. It is surely not bad for a boy that he should wish to be a
great engineer, a great lawyer, or a great doctor. These are all fine
professions, but there are other things which
1 Vol. I, Part II, Ch. 3: Right and Wrong.
59
are even more useful, and if he could see and choose the more useful line it
would surely be better for him. We cannot say that the worldly work is bad, but
only that there is better work. When one says better work one is not
depreciating any of those professions or their value to the world; one means
that most well-educated men with ordinary capacity could take up those duties
and make more or less of a success of them, whereas only those who have a
history behind them from the occult point of view can take up with success the
narrow and difficult path of occult training. Those who follow it can do more
good even than the man who wins high distinction along any of those other lines,
so when there is a child who wishes to take it up, who obviously would be able
to do so, no one should stand in his or her way.
Yet it is a necessary teacher. Its results turn to dust and ashes in the mouth;
like death and estrangement it shows the man at last that to work for self is to
work for disappointment.
The man who attains that which he has so long and so earnestly desired, often
finds later that it is not quite what he hoped it would be. Men who scheme to
obtain power and high position find that the power is to a great extent
illusory, that it is hampered in all directions, as in the case of Lord
Beaconsfield, which I mentioned before. It is possible that he might have done
more good by giving all his energy to the pursuit and spread of occultism. His
works are not very much read,
60
nowadays, but his occult knowledge shows through them as, for example,
in his wonderful tale of Alroyd.
But though this first rule seems so simple and easy, do not quickly pass it by.
For these vices of the ordinary man pass through a subtle transformation and
reappear with changed aspect in the heart of the disciple.
For the disciple there are special temptations, special difficulties. The
ordinary man is proud, perhaps, of certain things he can do. The pupil of the
Master knows full well he must not be proud of any advancement that comes to
him. Indeed, knowing the Masters, he cannot well be proud, for all sense of
pride falls away from any man who really knows them. He may be able to do many
things that others cannot do, but yet he is constantly, by the necessity of the
case, in the presence of one or of many who can do quite infinitely more than he
can. And so pride, to do them justice, is not often found in the pupils of the
Masters. Yet the whole thing is very subtle. The pupil, if he is not careful,
will find that he is proud of not being proud; proud to find how humble he is in
spite of the wonderful things he can do and think and say. Or he may try to
elbow himself to the front among those who are serving the Master, because in
his pride he thinks that he can do the work best and that his presence at the
top is essential. But Madame Blavatsky said in her First Steps in Occultism: "
No one can think, ' I am better or more pleasing to
1 Vol. II, p. 292.
61
the Master than my fellow-disciples ' and remain a pupil of the Master." And Dr.
Besant once said: " One of the first rules for an occultist is to be as
unobtrusive as possible so that his personality will attract the smallest
possible attention."
Those who are students of occultism, but not yet pupils, may more easily fall
into the error of pride. It is a great difficulty for those who develop psychic
powers. They find that they can see so much that others cannot; so much is open
to them that is unknown to others, that they begin to feel themselves superior
to their fellow-men, and very often that leads to rather disastrous results.
When we find psychics who show great pride, I think we may generally take it for
granted that they are not as yet trained people, that though they are developing
the higher faculties they have not yet come into contact with the Master,
because the absence of pride is a sure sign of one who is learning his lesson
properly.
It is easy to say: " I will not be ambitious "; it is not so easy to say: "When
the Master reads my heart He will find it clean utterly."
That is quite a different thing. We can so easily persuade ourselves that we are
not ambitious, that we are never selfish, never irritable. We can persuade
ourselves of many things, but the Master sees with the all-seeing eye that
discerns the facts and not the gloss and the glamour we throw over them when we
look at ourselves.
62
The pure artist who works for the love of his work is sometimes more firmly
planted on the right road than the Occultist who fancies he has removed his
interest from self, but who has in reality only enlarged the limits of
experience and desire, and transferred his interest to the things which concern
his larger span of life.
Cynical people might remark that the true artist in that sense is unknown, but
that is not so. I have had a great deal to do with artistic circles both in
England and in France, and though there is much jealousy and want of generous
appreciation among artists in general, yet I also surely have known more than
one artist who did live and work for the love of his art and not for gain.
Because he so worked, he often threw away many obvious chances of worldly
advancement, thinking that to take advantage of them would involve disloyalty to
his art. A man who is willing to do that for the sake of his art has already
made some progress on the way to getting rid of the lower self. There may be a
higher form of selfish ambition at the back of it, but at least he has gone a
long way in eradicating the mere lower self when he has lost the ambition for
worldly wealth and success.
There is a stage at which the occultist has quite conquered all desires
connected with the personality, has risen above all the ordinary ambitions of
men, but still has ambition for his separate individuality or ego, and is
thinking generally of its progress instead of the good he
63
can do to others. So it may well be that an artist who did altogether sacrifice
the thought of self, even though he knew nothing about occultism, might have his
feet more firmly planted on the right road than such an occultist.
The same principle applies to the other two seemingly simple rules. Linger over
them, and do not let yourself be easily deceived by your own heart.
The Master here refers to Rules 2 and 3, which we shall deal with in the next
chapter. These tell us to kill out desire of life and of comfort. He warns us to
be cautious with regard to all three, for the mind is extraordinarily, even
quite diabolically, clever at making excuses for us, at finding all kinds of
reasons for doing what we want to do. We may not think of ourselves as
particularly clever or intellectual, but if we look back over the excuses we
have invented for doing things we have wanted to do, we usually have to admit
that we have shown amazing capacity in the direction.
For now, at the threshold, a mistake can be corrected. But carry it on with you
and it will grow and come to fruition, or else you must suffer bitterly in its
destruction.
C.W.L.—This is the end of the Master Hilarion's long note to Rule 1. The more a
man advances on the path of occult development, the deeper he will bury any
fault which has not yet been eradicated. Suppose it be selfishness, the greatest
and most common of all faults,
64
because it lies at the root of so many others. He may have got rid of all its
outer evidences, and may imagine himself to be entirely free from it, and yet
the fault itself may still be unconquered. The further he goes on the Path the
more deeply it will be hidden. In the meantime he is gradually raising the
strength of the vibrations of his vehicles so that all his qualities, whether
bad or good, must be greatly intensified. If there is an evil quality the
existence of which may be quite hidden, both from the man himself and his
friends, it will be growing stronger and stronger, and inevitably some time it
must break through and show itself. Then just because he has made considerable
advance it will produce a much more serious disaster than would have been the
case at an earlier stage, and he certainly will suffer a good deal in its
destruction.
A.B.—The man on the path must do his work thoroughly. On the threshold mistakes
can easily be corrected. But unless the disciple gets rid entirely of the desire
for power while he is in the early stages of his spiritual apprenticeship, it
will become stronger and stronger. If he does not weed it out where it is based
in the physical, astral and mental planes, but allows it to take root in the
spiritual plane of the ego, he will find it very difficult to eradicate.
Ambition thus established in the causal body is carried on from life to life.
The physical, astral and mental bodies die, and he gets new ones, but the causal
body does not die till the end of the kalpa; so let the pupil beware of
permitting spiritual ambition to touch the causal body and build into it
65
clement of separateness which more and more encase the life.
Work as those work who are ambitious.
A.B.—I have taken this sentence out of its place in the book, where it occurs at
the beginning of Rule 4, and brought it in for consideration here, where it
specially applies. It is the comment of the Chohan upon Rule 1. In each case we
will take the rule and then the comment that the Chohan gave in explanation of
it. Put them together, and you get the sense. Thus you read: "1. Kill out
ambition, but work as those work who are ambitious. 2. Kill out desire of life,
but respect life as those who desire it. 3. Kill out desire of comfort, but be
happy as those who live for happiness."
Desire for power, life and happiness forms the motive power of the world. These
are the prizes that Ishvara holds out before all beings, and the result is the
evolution goes on. All the struggles that a man makes for these things bring out
his qualities and cause him to evolve. Suppose the whole of this is suddenly
removed —a man loses all ambition, all desire for life and for happiness. That
represents a stage through which men pass before the longing for the spiritual
life awakens fully in them. It is called vairagya, and is the result of
satiety.1 The man has enjoyed power and has found that it does not bring
happiness; he has worked for it and grasped it, but has found that the effect of
it on the inner
'Vol. I, Part I, Ch. 7: The Four Qualifications. Part III, Ch.
1: The Removal of Desire. Vol. II, pp. 56, 264-5, 314, 324.
66
ego is only disappointment. It is not what he expected, and it does not bring
satisfaction. Take the case, for example, of the late Emperor of Russia, who
stood at the summit of human power, was thoroughly tired of it, and heartily
wished himself free of it. It is not an uncommon thing in history that a man who
wields absolute power gets a fit of vairagya and abdicates his position.
The result of that is a collapse, a lessening of all the motives that had
animated him up to that point. Then the man droops down, and says: "Why should I
exert myself any more? I do not want power; why then should I work ? I do not
want life; why then should I continue to live? I do not want comfort; it gives
me no satisfaction; why then should I do anything to gain it? "
The question for us is: How may such a man be stimulated into renewed activity
so that he may continue to grow and may finish his evolution; how may he be
aroused from his state of collapse ? Only by attracting into activity the divine
life in him, that lives by giving, not by taking. He is now at the critical
point in his career. If he is still to cling to the separated self his future
lives will be full of weariness and disgust. Is it possible to awaken in him the
desire of the true life, which consists in pouring oneself out in service, not
in indrawing into selfish idleness ?
In his present state the man is a worthless creature in the world, useless to
himself and everybody else. Before he reached this condition he was a force that
helped the general evolution of the world, because he was affected by those
things which attract normal men and enable
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them to evolve. Into this condition of perfect collapse and uselessness into
which he has been plunged by the loss of ordinary lower motives, there comes a
special appeal—an appeal which meets him on the three points where he had lost
his motive.
It is to the man in this condition that the command comes: " Work as those work
who are ambitious." That is joined to the first teaching: " Kill out ambition,"
that taken alone would lead to lethargy. The separated self being killed, the
man has now no motive for work, so the cry comes: " Work as those work who are
ambitious." Then comes the second command: "Respect life as those do who desire
it," and the third: " Be happy as those who live for happiness." These are the
three new commands that are to begin the new life, the three new motives that
replace the three old ones. The man is lying there as dead. The life of the form
is dead. Now he has to waken up the life of the consciousness; that will be done
by these three appeals. He has to begin to work again, but now it must be the
spiritual man who lives and works, while the personality acts like a machine. He
has to live more than ever he did before, though the desires for life, happiness
and power have all been extinguished. This is the answer to his question: "Why
should I work? "
If a man does not find the answer, he will remain in the dead condition and will
grow no further. It is the point known to students of mechanics as a dead point,
the point of equilibrium, in which there is no force to push him on; the higher
forces have counterbalanced
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the lower ones and destroyed his former selfishness and ambition, but are not
yet strong enough in him to send him forth full of energy and purpose in their
cause. That equilibrium is not the object of evolution. What new motives can be
put before the man so as to arouse him from this state and make him active?
There is only one which can stir the soul from within—his identifying himself
with the life of Ishvara in the world, and acting as a part of that life instead
of with the desire for the fruit of action.
There is no better commentary on this sentence than that which you will find in
the third discourse of the Bhagavad-Gita, where reasons are given why a man
should work after he has lost the common motives, the desire for the fruits of
action:
But the man who rejoiceth in the Self, with the Self is satisfied, and is
content in the Self, for him verily there is nothing to do;
For him there is no interest in things done in this world, nor any in things not
done, nor doth any object of his depend on any being.
Therefore, without attachment, constantly perform action which is duty, for, by
performing action without attachment, man verily reacheth the Supreme.
Janaka and others indeed attained to perfection by action: then having an eye to
the welfare of the world also, thou shouldst perform action.1
That which is described here is a still higher stage than that of the man of
whom we are now thinking. We have been considering only the beginning of that
Path which leads to this full realization of the Self. But the motive which is
given here applies to him; he has
1 Op. cit., iii, 17-20.
69
realized the emptiness of the non-self, and is in a position to respond to the
appeal of the one Self. He is prepared to work with the motive of benefit to the
world. Such a man may now think of trying to gain spiritual knowledge not in
order that he himself may thereby become wise and great, but because it will
help the world; he is gradually making that his object—something outside his own
individual self.
Finally he will drop that motive of lofty desire also, and only wish that he may
be an organ of the higher, and may do that which Ishvara wishes. Then he will
learn that he is not even to desire spiritual knowledge, nor even to become a
Master, but simply to become an instrument for the higher Life. Thus being
active as they who are ambitious, but with the motive of being a channel for the
higher Life, the man will get rid of the last vestiges of ambition. His energy
is now merged in the Will of the Logos; that becomes the motive for his working.
In the verses of the Gita quoted above Shri Krishna explains how a man should
work in order to reach the Supreme, to realize the presence and power of the
Divine. Then he goes on to show that such attainment and realization lead to
fuller activity than any ever known before. He explains that it is the active
work of Ishvara that sustains everything:
There is nothing in the three worlds, O Partha, that should be done by Me, nor
anything unattained that might be attained; yet I mingle in action.
For if I mingled not ever in action unwearied, men all around would follow My
path, O son of Pritha.
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These worlds would fall into ruin, if I did not perform action.1
He works for the welfare of the world, for the turning of the wheel of the
universe, and the sole motive of His activity is that the world may grow and
develop till the cycle is completed.
Shri Krishna then goes on to show the reasons for which a man should work—for
the benefit and maintenance of the world and of mankind. No longer identifying
himself with the separated forms, he has to identify himself with the one Life
which is carrying on separated lives in order to bring them to perfection. Thus
identifying himself with the one Life he should work entirely for the welfare
and maintenance of his fellows and of the whole world—that everything moving and
unmoving may reach its appointed end, may become that which is in the thought of
Ishvara, although in manifested life they have not reached that point. The whole
universe of Ishvara exists perfect in His thought, and gradually in many stages
He works that thought out in matter. Those who realize this as part of His life
must work as He works for the complete manifestation of that thought, that is,
in order to turn the wheel of life till the turning is complete.
It does not follow necessarily that the man who has this true and spiritual
motive believes in God or thinks about Him. But in any case he feels and
responds to the divine Life in the world, and serves it with utter devotion.
Such, for example, was the case with my old friend Charles Bradlaugh, who did
not believe in God as
1 Ibid., iii, 22-24.
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understood in his time, but was nevertheless always ready to face suffering and
danger, to lay his own body in the ditch if it could thus be useful as a bridge
over which others might walk to a higher life.
Yet those who have thus felt the Will of Ishvara so that it has become their
motive in life must not unsettle the minds of others who are not yet able to
feel this and are acting from desire. Shri Krishna goes on to say:
As the ignorant act from attachment to action, O Bharata, so should the wise act
without attachment, desiring the welfare of the world.
Let no wise man unsettle the mind of ignorant people attached to action; but
acting in n harmony with Me let him render all action attractive.1
The spiritual man must throw himself into the work of the world and set an
example, because the standard which is set up by the wise will be followed by
others. A man who is looked up to by the mass of the people sets a standard by
which activity will be carried on by the others; if he becomes indifferent to
action they will also fall into indifference. Though his indifference may come
from a higher motive they do not know that, and it is quite a natural thing for
them to mistake his motive. In them indifference would grow out of tamas, and
that would prevent their further evolution.
A man might say: " I don't want results here or in swarga. Why then should I try
to help other people along the road which leads to those enjoyments; why should
I try to make them active on those lines that I deem to be useless, that they
may gain what is worthless ?
1 Ibid., iii, 25-26.
72
why should I throw my activity on the side of giving that which is undersirable
? " The answer is perfectly clear. Those fruits of action are absolutely
necessary for the mass of the people. Unless they desire these pleasures of the
world, these comforts and ambitions, these things which move them to action,
their evolution will be stopped. If they do not want enjoyment here, then swarga
may be their motive. Somehow they must be encouraged to move, grow, evolve. If
you persuade them that these things are useless they will not evolve.
It is therefore important for the evolution of mankind that an example should be
set of work done thoroughly and perfectly well. It is never done perfectly well
while we are men working from desire. Though in that case the man may show an
admirable example of energy and perseverance there will be the taint of
selfishness in his work, which will make his example imperfect. He may work with
great accuracy, but he is working for himself. He is not really doing his best,
because he is not thinking entirely of the work, but partly of a result for
himself.
The Lord works perfectly so that the world may go on. We should, then, work in
the same spirit. We must work better than the best worldly man, because our
motive is that of service of God and man, and not our own gain. We will work for
the cause of humanity. We will not run about to find activity for the sake of
being active. Many men work thus for the enjoyment of action, because unless
they are busy they do not feel alive, but are bored. That condition is one very
far removed from the man who is content in the Self. He
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is never bored, never searching for an outlet in activity. He works because it
is his duty, and has no desire for activity when there is no duty. Thus he
realizes inaction in action. In the fourth discourse of the Gita, Shri. Krishna
remarks on action, wrong action and inaction:
" What is action, what inaction? " Even the wise are herein perplexed. Therefore
I will declare to thee the action by knowing which thou shalt be loosed from
evil.
It is needful to discriminate action, to discriminate unlawful action, and to
discriminate inaction; mysterious, is the path of action.
He who seeth inaction in action, and action in inaction, he is wise among men,
he is harmonious even while performing all action.1
Even the wise people are confused, it is said, as to the limits of each of these
things. The right action is duty, that in which the man is expressing the life
of Ishvara in his own place. In that he is to be a channel or agency, working
with the knowledge, accuracy and completeness that the man who is not ambitious
shows. If you take his work and put it beside that of the man who is ambitious
you will see that it is equally well, nay, even better done, because it is done
with absolute self-surrender and perfect balance.
If you find a man who is not working in that way, having lost desire for the
fruit of action, but who is doing less than he ought to do, is working with less
energy, less interest and less punctuality because he has no longer personal
motives, then you see one who has not learned the duty of action before he took
to inaction. It was said to me regarding certain people: " These men are
1 Ibid., iv, 16-18.
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beginning inaction before they have done action—by intellectual recognition of
the worthlessness of the fruit of action before they have reached the point
where they could work unselfishly. They are neither good men of the world, as
they have stopped doing that, nor are they spiritual men throwing their energy
into the evolution of mankind."
There are two lives which a man may live who has reached the condition where the
fruit of action does not affect him. He may retire to the jungle to live in
seclusion or he may be busy amid the affairs of men.1 If he is sufficiently
evolved to work energetically in the mental or in the spiritual plane, that life
of physical inaction may be the best; that man is helping the world much more
than he could do amid the bustle of the world. Yet such a man will often be sent
back by his Master to lead his last life in the world. He will then live a life
untainted by action, will show in the world the example of true action, will
lead a life of perfect activity with all the energy that the most ambitious man
can show.
When a man is living the spiritual life in the world it is not possible usually
to tell by external means whether he is moved by desire or by duty. But there is
one test which never fails by which one may always judge one's own motive. How
are you affected when the fruit of action is before you ? If the slightest
element of ambition enters into a man's work he will show disappointment if it
fails or elation if it succeeds. If there
1 Vol. I, Part V, Ch. 2: Love in Daily Life, Ch. 6: Service.
75
is no suffering for him in his failure, no element of personality has entered
into his work; for if he has been working because Ishvara works, for the welfare
of mankind, he will know his failure is not the failure of Ishvara, but that the
failure is part of His Plan. From the standpoint of Ishvara failure is
impossible, and often in human life failure is quite as necessary for ultimate
success as success is necessary for ultimate success. His people may be sent
sometimes to play the part of the failure so as to become stronger, to realize
that where there is failure there is also success.
Whether a man is really working as part of His Life will be shown by his perfect
contentment whether he succeeds or fails. If that contentment is perfect,
without a shadow of dissatisfaction, he has been working absolutely for the
maintenance of mankind; then the work does not bind him and he has solved the
problem of inaction in the midst of action. He has learned the use of the
vehicles and the gunas, without identifying himself with them. In ordinary cases
the gunas work the man, but the man on the Path works the gunas. Most men are
carried about by the energies of nature; they work as those energies are active.
But the man on the Path takes those energies as instruments of labour and,
standing behind them, utilizes them. The ambitious man is driven by the gunas
when he thinks that he is working, but the man who has transcended them is
directing them along the road of evolution traced by Ishvara, and does not
identify himself with them. This is thus taught in the Gita.
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Having abandoned attachment to the fruit of action, always content, nowhere
seeking refuge, he is not doing anything, although doing action.
Hoping for naught, his mind and self controlled, having abandoned all greed,
performing action by the body alone, he doth not commit sin.
Content with whatsoever he obtaineth without effort, free from the pairs of
opposites without envy, balanced in success and failure, though acting he is not
bound.
Of one with attachment dead, harmonious, with his thoughts established in
wisdom, his works sacrifices, all action melts away.1
So the man who finds himself at the point of balance, of indifference, must
discover some means to increase the higher influences within himself, so that
these may spur him into this life of spiritual action. He must use meditation;
he must try to utilize whatever emotion he may possess; he must deliberately
take every opportunity of service. He must move even without the desire to move,
and even against the desire not to move. He must move. If he can find anyone for
whom he has reverence, whose example inspires him to activity, that will be a
great help to his getting over this transitional stage, where otherwise he might
drop out of evolution for the time being. If the desire to please someone whom
he admires should arise in his mind, he may use that to urge himself on until he
is in a position to feel the impelling force of Ishvara's Life, and thus use the
emotion to carry him over and out of his condition of collapse.
C.W.L.—Having put aside ambition for himself the man is then told to work as
those work who arc
1 Op. cit., iv, 20-23.
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ambitious. There are usually three stages through which men pass. There is,
first of all, the work for worldly result. Then comes the stage when the man
begins to work, still for a result, but for a heavenly result. That is put very
much before us by the different churches. We are to give up this world to live
for ever in heaven; we shall stand nearest to God's throne, and so on. Most
people pass through these stages of working first for the worldly result and
then for the heavenly result. Some of them somewhat improve upon that second
idea, because they work in order to please their Deity. Many Christians, for
example, work for the love of Jesus, and that is admirable because it is
unselfish; it is a higher stage than to work for a personal result, even though
it be a heavenly one.
There is still a higher stage, that of doing the work for the work's sake, but
most people do not understand that yet. Many artists do; there are artists who
work for the sake of art in whatever their line may be. As one great poet said:
" I do but sing because I must." He meant that he must express that which came
through him as a message to the world. Another, feeling the same thing, said
that he valued his poems not because they were his own, but because they were
not. So there are some who work for the sake of art—not for themselves or for
their own renown, not to please other people, not even to please God as that
idea would be commonly understood, but because they feel the message coming
through them and they must give it. That is a high stage to have attained.
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Then there is the highest stage of all, when a man works because he is part of
the Deity and as part of Him he desires the fulfillment of the divine Plan.
People sometimes delude themselves and think they are working for that when they
have still a considerable flavour of the lower ideas about them. We can always
test ourselves with regard to that—best, perhaps, when we happen to fail, which
occurs at times to all of us. As our Dr. Besant has often explained, if we are.
really working definitely and knowingly as part of the Deity, as part of the
whole, we are not in the least disturbed by any failure that comes to us,
because we know that God cannot fail. If for the time being a certain activity
appears to be a failure, that is in the scheme and so is a necessary thing, and
therefore is not really a failure. Nothing can be a failure from His point of
view, so we are not in the least distressed. The only question would be as to
whether it was our fault; but if we have done our best and the thing is still a
failure, we know that all is well.
Such considerations as these must not, however, cause us to become negligent or
indifferent to time. It is part of our work to convert others from the doctrine
of inertia to the path of service, and even one such gain means that some
distinct advantage has been achieved for the world. Whatever is
best
certainly, but only when we have done our best. If there is anybody who has
failed to do his best in his share of that work, then whatever is is not best,
because it might have been better. It is only when we have done absolutely all,
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that we have the right to take refuge in that. " Well, I have done everything I
can. If after all I am not successful, I bow to a higher power than mine." I am
very sure that that which has been done is after all not lost, and whatever
happens to all these people in the end is really what is best for them.
It may be only an illusion but it is a very powerful one—that high philosophical
view that whether you get anything now or in a million years does not matter. I
feel it matters to me; therefore I think it must matter to other people, and if
we could get them to take the earlier opportunity of advancing, we should be
doing a very great thing for them. What difference it makes in the long run to
the Logos in whom all this is moving, I cannot tell, but it is very likely His
wish that we should evolve and if He wishes that to be done, then also He must
wish that it should be done as soon as may be. We are clearly carrying out His
will if we try to press onward along the Path which leads to full unity with
Him, and if we help others along that Path, so I cannot see that it is all the
same whether people enter the stream in this world period, or this chain period,
or wait till the next. I shall do all I can to help people to enter it in this
one.
Perhaps another test would be as to whether we are willing to take any work that
is His work—whether we are willing to help high and low alike. To Him there is
neither high nor low in the matter of progress, though some part of His scheme
may be at a higher and another part at a lower point in that progress. It is
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very much like the turning of a wheel; some part of it is approaching the top as
it turns, but all of it alike is moving along as the wheel turns. Our work is to
help the whole forward, to push any part of the wheel. The life at all levels is
the divine life; it is more unfolded at some stages than at others—more unfolded
in the human than in the animal, in the animal than in the vegetable, in the
vegetable than in the mineral—but the life is the divine life everywhere, and if
we are helping forward any part of that we are helping the divine plan. That
which is higher or lower is the form in which the life is cast; the form permits
of greater or lesser unfoldment, but the life is one life. That certainly must
be part of His point of view, which is very different from our outlook—the idea
that all life is in reality the same; there is no high nor low from that point
of view, because the whole is moving together. That does not alter the fact that
there may be some in whom the life is more unfolded, who are capable of giving
greater assistance, and others who may be capable only of a lower grade of
assistance; the point is that those who find that what they can do best would
commonly be called lower work should not be in the least disheartened, because
they also are pushing the same wheel—they are helping the unfoldment of the same
divine life.
CHAPTER 4 RULES 2 TO 4
2. Kill out desire of life.
Respect life as those do who desire it.
A.B.—We have already to some extent considered this aphorism and the next. The
same general principles that apply to the killing out of ambition yet the
working as those do who are ambitious apply to these two aphorisms also. The
disciple must get rid of the desire for personal life—everything which energizes
the personal self and responds to the gratification of his personal desire. He
must no longer rejoice in the mere pleasure of expanding his own life by taking
into it more and more of the outside things.
All over the world men are to be seen in eager search for a fuller life; they
grasp it with many varieties of greed, struggling and fighting for more and more
of everything that appeals to their hot and untutored imaginations, and thereby
bringing about great quantities of personal and social trouble. But the disciple
must get rid of that desire to increase and expand his own individual and
separate life. He must enter into the higher life, and have only the desire to
be wherever
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in the universe he is wanted at any time as an expression of the one life. There
are many things to do in this universe. When all desire for separate individual
life has been transcended, and all personal preferences are gone, the need of
the time guides the choice of the spiritual man. Wherever help is wanted is the
place of work for such a liberated soul; he cares only to be an instrument,
wherever the instrument may be wanted. His life is to him only useful and
valuable as it is part of the Universal Life.
The man who has lost his desire of life arrives at a point of danger—he may
regard life as worthless for all, because the things that it offers are
worthless to him. He may take up an attitude of contempt towards the world and
his fellow-men. He may look down upon and despise them as foolish people, may
speak of them contemptuously, and consider their motives paltry. That attitude
towards them is very natural, but it is full of danger, and fundamentally evil.
It shows that he has not realized the Self, though he may have realized the
non-self as such. If he looks down upon any life, however undeveloped, he
forgets that that manifestation is a part of Ishvara, and to him therefore the
message is necessary and urgent: " Respect life as those who desire it."
If he asks why he ought to look upon it with respect, the answer is: because it
is divine. It is a stage in which Ishvara is working, a stage which to Ishvara
is quite as important as the higher stage in which he now is. When we speak of
high and low we speak from the standpoint of evolution and time—the succession
of
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changes which make up time. That is not the way in which Ishvara regards His
world; to Him there is nothing great nor small, hateful nor dear. Everything is
at a stage on a road on which all are traveling to the same goal; the lowly is
just as necessary for the scheme of evolution as the form we usually call
higher. So the disciple must not fall into the blunder of despising and
disregarding any life, because, it is in what we call a low stage of evolution.
Each thing in its place is right and good. The recognition of that fundamental
truth means that a man must love his fellow-men, must learn to care for them as
part of the Universal Life in evolution.
Granted that a man in a low stage is foolish, sensual, idle, exceedingly
unattractive; his lack of attraction lies in the form, not in the Life. We are
blinded by the form. Because our looking down upon another, our turning aside
from him, is a sign of our superiority, there follows a feeling of superiority,
which breeds contempt. But the truth is that the only thing in which we are
superior is the evolution of the form. The essence is the same; his
possibilities are equal to ours, and looked at from the centre he is as we are.
The man who is on the Path tries to see things from the centre as well as from
the circumference. He must therefore respect Life, and realize that the Life of
Ishvara is the only Life; the form is that in which Ishvara chooses to manifest
for a certain time, and if it is good enough for Ishvara it is quite good enough
for us.
In the universe there must be form in all stages of growth. No one is higher or
lower; all are equal.
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There is difference when we ourselves are in process of evolution; but no
difference when we have outgrown it. When we have given up interest in it and
thrown aside all question of form and fruit, then we can respect Life in all its
manifestations. The partially evolved man, bound up by the forms, is willing to
help those who are comparatively near himself and who can repay his trouble. He
will not be inclined to help those who are low down. But the man who helps from
the standpoint of Ishvara helps all. His duty is to help them wherever they are.
His activity is to be the activity of Ishvara. He helps those who come in his
way, whether they be high or low, and he respects the Life in each of them, and
helps that where help is required. He does not allow himself to be confused by
the fact that the whole of the Life is not present in the man. He knows that the
work of Ishvara is carried on so that that life may be brought out, and he works
to unfold it into manifestation. He is not led astray by thinking that to be in
the Self is everything. He works for manifestation, respecting and loving Life.
And so he utterly avoids the danger of contempt, which would otherwise hinder
the unfolding of the Life in himself producing a wall of separateness.
There is in this an immense difference between the way in which Life is regarded
by an ordinary man and by one who lives in the Eternal. The latter sees the Life
in its full possibilities, those possibilities to him being in view now, even
though undeveloped; for he lives in the eternal, and when Life is looked at from
85
that standpoint it is seen in the beauty of its fulfillment. Below that state we
see it only in a particular stage, in time and not in eternity, and therefore we
do not respect it as we ought to do. But the liberated soul who lives in
eternity sees it as it is, and although he looks at the stage at a particular
time in which it has arrived, he cannot feel repulsion, because he knows that
that stage is perfectly normal.
The practical outcome of it is that the higher a man stands the more is he
tolerant of all Life, and the greater is his compassion with all, approaching as
it is the compassion of the Logos Himself. As a man destroys in himself the
desire of Life, that is the desire of the separated self, and yet respects Life
as those do who desire it, he begins to acquire that sense of eternity which
enables him to respect life in whatever way it may be manifested. For him then
any contempt for those who are below him becomes impossible; he recognizes each
in its place as an expression of the Perfect Life.
C.W.L.—Here, as in the case of the former rule, we may take the teaching at two
different levels. Undoubtedly the beginner has to kill out the desire for one
kind of outer life rather than for another, such as would interfere with the
work to be done. A man who becomes a pupil of the Master must be absolutely
willing to do whatever is put in his way, to go here or there, to leave this
thing or that, and have no feeling about it. If he thinks: " I am doing this
kind of work and I am doing it well, and I want to keep on doing it," he may
come to harm because he is becoming conceited. Suppose he
86
is taken away from the work he feels he can do and is put to something which is
new to him; he must accept it with perfect cheerfulness. The change may be made
because this other work is more necessary, or because, since he has learned to
do that one thing, he must now learn to do something else.
Quite outside the special training of the pupil, we frequently find that the
evolutionary forces work in that way. Every man likes to do what he feels he can
do well, but the evolutionary forces want to develop the man all round, and very
often they take him away from what he can do and put him to something else that
he cannot yet do well, because they want him to develop some new power. If at
first he cannot do it, he must work at it until he can. That is the way that
evolution in general works, and the same thing applies to the training of the
pupils of the Master. If they can do a thing well they may be kept at it for
some time, but then quite suddenly they may be sent along some other line, and
they must be equally willing to do that other work also. So, certainly, the
desire for one kind of physical life more than for another will have to be
killed out.
At the higher level the same thing is true with regard to the life of the ego.
The disciple knows, if he looks back on past incarnations, that his ego has come
along certain lines, but he has developed certain qualities and can, from the
point of view of the individuality, do well along those lines. He may be
suddenly taken away from them. The individuality, the ego, must accept
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that which comes to it in the course of its training, and there also we must be
free from any feeling that this work or this way is better than that. This is
brought home to us when we meet with people of other rays or types. We feel that
our ray and type is the best one. In theory we would admit that the others must
be just as good as our own, but very few of us can feel really hearty sympathy
with them. Thus, for example, one who has been working along philosophic or
scientific lines might find it a little trying to have to turn his activities to
art or ceremonial service. It is difficult to turn our sympathies round and let
them flow freely along another line, but that is one of the things we must learn
to do if necessary.
As soon as a man feels unity he gains the dispassionate view of things. All
lines of work are then, in effect, the same to him—not that he can equally
easily take up all, but he sees that they all lead to the same point. The
undeveloped man never understands this. Always he thinks that the man taking the
higher standpoint is cold and hard and unsympathetic; that is because the lower
man is thinking of himself and is wanting all sorts of personal satisfactions,
whereas the other man is thinking only of the work to be done and is putting all
his energy into that. When once the Plan of work of the Logos dawns upon a man's
horizon he sees that to the exclusion of everything else, and throws his
energies into it, and whatever is best for that work he tries to do, even as
regards the smallest detail of every-day life.
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TALKS ON THE PATH OF OCCULTISM
He hitches his wagon to a star. He puts before himself ideals very high and very
remote from the ordinary understanding, and it is quite inevitable that the
people who still look on things from the personal point of view will
misunderstand him. If he suffers because of that misunderstanding, there is
still a little personal touch in that; he still wants to be understood, but even
that he must give up. He must give up hoping that his efforts will be
appreciated, and realize that it does not matter whether they are appreciated or
not. All that matters is that the work shall be done. If people will not give us
credit for our work, no matter; let it be done as perfectly as possible. We
shall have the appreciation of the Master—that much is sure—but even that must
not be our reason for doing it. Our reason for doing it is that it is God's work
and as we are one with Him what He wills is our will, what He would have done it
is our highest pleasure and privilege to try to do.
When we realize that all Life is divine Life, of course we shall respect all the
manifestations of it. We, who see partially, do not always respect life in all
its forms and in all its manifestations. We see that many of them would be
eminently undesirable for us, and therefore there is a tendency to regard those
particular manifestations with contempt. That is always a mistake. We see a
great deal around us which from our point of view is going very wrong, and often
it really is going wrong. All the expressions of selfishness and greed and
uncontrolled desire that we see in the world are certainly
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wrong in the sense that it would be very much better if they were different. It
is not at all a mistake for us to think that, because it is a fact; but when we
allow ourselves to feel contempt for the people who are at that stage, we are
going further than we have any right to go. Their state of development accounts
for these manifestations, and they are very often the only expressions possible
for them at that stage, and it is through them that they will learn.
When we see a man showing selfishness and greed and lack of self-control, we
say: " What a pity! " Yet it is a pity only in the same sense that we might say
that it is a pity that a little child of four has not grown up to be a man. If
we allow ourselves to be uncontrolled, or to show greed and selfishness we might
feel a sort of contempt for ourselves, because we know better, but it would be
wrong to feel that for any other man. If it seems that he ought to be doing
better, probably he has not taken advantage of his opportunities; then we should
feel sorry for him and try to help him, when we can, to see the better side, the
higher possibilities, but it is the greatest mistake to draw away from him,
though we cannot always help feeling repugnance towards the things that he does.
For example, if a man gets drunk it is because he is at that stage. Therefore it
is possible for him to yield to temptation of that kind instead of making a
stand against it, as he ought to do. In many cases he has tried, perhaps, but he
has so far failed. All that we can do to help him should be thoroughly and
entirely at his disposal, but
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we must not feel repugnance for him. It is the old Christian idea; we may hate
the sin but we must be sorry for the sinner, otherwise we are doing worse than
he, because we are losing the sense of brotherhood and destroying our power to
help.
The one Life is behind all and we must respect it even in manifestations which
we dislike and feel to be undesirable. We must never forget that it is divine.
It is difficult to remember that sometimes when the things that are done are so
very ungodlike; nevertheless we must try. It is the old idea of the hidden Life,
which was taught to us in the Egyptian mysteries thousands of years ago. The
hidden Life was in every man, and however deeply it was buried and however
little it showed forth, we were always to remember that it was there, even when
we could not see it. The hidden light in us could not shine upon and evoke the
hidden light in another at once, but if we were sufficiently patient and
sufficiently forceful we must call forth a response, sometime and somehow. In
these days we put the teaching in somewhat different terms, but it is equally tr
uenow as then.
The man who lives in the Eternal sees what will be as well as what now is, and
when he looks at a manifestation of Life, which is eminently undesirable he
says: " Yes, at present, from the point of view of time, that is what I see it
to be—a low and unworthy manifestation; but the divine Life in it will some day
blossom out." Many people do not think how very illusory a thing the present is.
No sooner have we thought of it than it has passed. We say: " Such and such a
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thing is in existence at present," and while we are uttering the words that
present moment has become the past. In reality there is no such time as the
present; it is a kind of knife-edge between the past and future; it is merely a
term which we use for convenience—the thing itself is shifting every second of
time. We must read the future into the present, and see what will be. If we
could only get out of these bodies and these brains for a few moments into an
altogether higher life and look down upon it, we should understand this matter
exactly. We should see that by thinking of that future we make it more easily
attainable for the present. If we look at a man who is definitely sinning, and
think of his sin, we fold that sin more closely about him, but if we look at him
and think of the future, when he will have risen out of it, we open the way to
that future for him, and bring it more within his reach.1
3. Kill out desire of comfort.
Be happy as those are who live for happiness.
A.B.—In the early stages of growth a man puts out all his efforts of brain and
body in order to gain the means which will make him comfortable; the desire of
comfort forms the motive of the majority of mankind. It is a very useful
stimulus to bring out certain qualities of man. It teaches him that he must
control his body, that he must dominate his lower nature, and that he has also
to develop his bodies, so that they many subserve his purposes of enjoying
comfort in them.
1 Ante., Vol. I, Part V, Chap. 3: Gossip.
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The desire for comfort gradually disappears as the things that attract the man
rise higher and higher in the scale. A man may get rid of desires for physical
comfort and enjoyment by throwing his interest into the mental life, for
example. At first there will be a sense of effort, a certain feeling of pain and
loss; but the man prefers the mental to the physical pleasures because he knows
that they will last longer. Then as he practises self-denial, he finds that the
feeling of loss becomes less and less as the joys of the intellect attract him
more and more, until the lower desires do not attract him at all.
At first there is deliberate self-denial at each stage, and then comes the loss
of the power of attraction in the physical object of the desire. Later on, the
same change will come with regard to the joys of the intellect. When the man is
looking up to the spiritual life his great attraction for intellectual things
will gradually diminish, and he will be less and less attracted by the enjoyment
of the powerful intellectual force; he will deny himself the joys of the
intellect and rejoice in those of the spirit; he will withdraw himself from the
intellect and fix his consciousness on the spiritual level.
The destruction of the desire for comfort also brings its danger. This is the
third great danger. The first was inactivity, the second was contempt, and the
third is the tendency not to be happy, but to be neither happy nor unhappy,
neither one thing nor the other.
How shall the man become happy? The answer is: by realizing that the Self is
bliss. It is said in the Brahma Sutras that Brahman is Bliss, Brahman is
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Ananda. The man has now to realize this. He is no longer moved by pleasure nor
by pain. They have ceased to attract him; they came from contact between forms,
but he has reached equilibrium. He is therefore likely to sink into the
condition of being neither happy nor unhappy. But he must learn to be happy as
those are who live for happiness.
It is the bliss of the Self, that deep abiding bliss, the sense of contentment
and joy. which is an essential part of the spiritual life, and the most
difficult part of that life to realize in consciousness. It is a very marked
fact about the great mystics and saviours of men that the side of sorrow has
shown itself very much in their lives. Jesus was a man of sorrow. Gautama, the
Buddha, left his splendid palaces and gardens and loving friends to seek the
cure for the sorrow of the world. The same is true when we look on the lives of
all the great leaders of mankind. Sorrow touched them very deeply. But they were
not overcome by the sorrow. In those men there was an abiding joy, and the
sorrow is profoundly exaggerated by the man who looks upon them from outside. As
grief hovers over them, as anxiety, harass-ments, troubles, worries, and woes
rain upon them from all directions, naturally they are judged by men to be
sorrowful. But that does not follow. They are not worried, harassed or
distressed by these things, however much they may attend to them, and may do
whatever may be necessary for the sake of the world. Underneath it all there is
the heart of peace. Therefore you always find them saying: " My peace
remaineth."
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The disciple feels the sorrow of the world. That he cannot escape; it will throw
a shadow over him—an unavoidable shadow. The whole of the world's sorrow has to
find its echo in him. He feels sorrow, and continues to feel pity for the
ignorant and the suffering, for their rebellion and revolt. At the stage we are
considering there is danger for him—that he may cease to feel for others; then
just in proportion as he ceases to feel he loses his utility. The Great Ones
feel helpless pity for those under the sway of karma; pity because of their own
inability to help them, for there are places where they cannot help, where men
must go through their experiences by themselves. Despite the knowledge that it
should be so, and despite their absolute contentment with the Law, they are
standing aside and watching it work; still there is this pain and sympathy—pity,
which has in it a certain element of sorrow.
That will always remain as something of a shadow. In losing the power to
sympathize a man would lose the power to help. Just as his life flows into the
ignorant he feels the pleasure and pain of the ignorant, and he lightens their
trouble by feeling it himself.
With all this pressing upon him it is ever necessary that the disciple should be
reminded that the Self-is bliss. He must keep the heart of joy, must
deliberately cultivate in himself the spirit of contentment and happiness. One
way to do this is to practise meditation upon the divine bliss—deep, intense
bliss, not equalled by anything belonging to this earth, because it is the very
essence and nature of the Self. A man can develop that
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aspect only by the deliberate cultivation of joy and contentment, and by looking
at the world and recognizing that evil is avidya, unwisdom. In the midst of
sorrows he is to be happy; he must teach himself that pain is in the vehicle
while the life is ever joy.
C.W.L.—This rule does not mean that people may not be comfortable, though many
have taken it in that sense. Yogis, hermits and monks have taken similar
statements in other scriptures in that way, but it is absolutely wrong and
foolish. Some monks in the Middle Ages wore hair shirts; and some Indian yogis
sit on spikes and sleep in the hottest weather in the midst of a circle of fire,
all with the object of making themselves uncomfortable. That is the result of
choosing one text and running it to death. It is particularly stated in the
Bhagavad-Gita that those who torture the body torture the Divine One seated in
that body, and their way is not the way of progress.1 So this rule does not mean
that we may not be comfortable, but simply that we must never let our desire for
comfort stand in the way of any work which we have to do. If to do what ought to
be done will cause us great discomfort, we must not on that account refrain from
doing it.
To make ourselves unnecessarily uncomfortable only puts difficulty in our way.
People talk much about the virtue of suffering and the extent to which progress
is made through it; but if we look at the cold facts we shall find that the
progress is made after the suffering is past. It is not actual suffering itself
which causes the
1 Op. cit., xvii. 6.
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progress, but in many cases that wakens a man to conditions which otherwise he
would not have sufficiently noted. It sometimes weeds out of him qualities which
made progress difficult for him, but it is only after the suffering is over that
the progress is made, because only then is he in a fit state of mind to attend
to higher things.
We must not think that there is any virtue in making ourselves uncomfortable. On
the contrary, when the physical body is comfortable we are much better able to
think of higher things. Yet I have known people who would persist in doing it.
For example, in India, where meditation is best understood, it happens to be the
custom to sit cross-legged. I have known scores of white people who would weary
themselves out and even cause themselves pain by trying to follow the Indian
custom in meditation, not understanding that that is merely an outer detail and
the Indian only adopts that position because he has been accustomed to it from
childhood. It is exceedingly futile for people who are not accustomed to it to
force themselves into what is to them a position of discomfort. Patanjali's
direction is to take a posture " easy and pleasant ".
There are two objects with regard to the position of the body during meditation.
First, it should be comfortable, so that one can easily forget it, for that is
what one wants to do. Secondly, it should be such that if in meditation we leave
the body—which may happen at any time—it will not hurt itself. In such a case
the effect on the body will be as though we had fainted.
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The Indian who is sitting on the floor simply falls backwards, and no harm is
done. When we meditate we shall do well, therefore, to sit in some sort of
armchair, so that we may not fall out of it, if the body loses consciousness.
The recumbent position is not good if it increases the tendency to sleep.
There are joys of the emotions and of the intellect, and many people who would
despise the idea that their physical comfort mattered to them in the least, are
yet exceedingly unhappy when they are not emotionally comfortable, that is to
say, when they imagine that they are not getting the response they deserve to
their emotions. Many people are painfully sentimental and expect the rest of the
world to be equally so, and are much hurt because it is not. They pour out what
they call affection, but it is often tinged with selfishness. They will create
all kinds of disturbance, and even do things which harm those whom they profess
to love, all for the sake of what they call the return of their affection. They
do not understand that there are different types of affection, and that it may
be absolutely impossible for the person concerned to return it in their
particular way. This difficulty comes from the insistence of the desire for
emotional comfort, which should never be permitted to interfere with our own
progress or that of those whom we love.
In the same way there is intellectual comfort. People want, others to think
exactly as they do, so that they may rest mentally content, without disturbance.
Constantly we come up against that difficulty. There will be some
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promising young person deeply interested in Theosophy, for example, who wants
to join the Theosophical Society, but his parents vigorously oppose him. They
would not be intellectually comfortable if they thought that their son or their
daughter were adopting a line which they could not share. They feel sure that
they are right and that there can be no real wisdom outside the limits of their
own particular opinions. Therefore if a sop or a daughter thinks differently
from them they are quite outraged, not realizing that the fact that an ego
happens to be born in their family does not necessarily mean that he is of the
same temperament as themselves.
Each ego has his own way, his own power of appreciating the truth; he must
receive it along his own line. For others to try to force him to take it along
their line, which is not his, is a mistake; the whole inner Self revolts against
it. The result, in hundreds of cases, when children have been intellectually
pressed, is that they fall away altogether from their parents' beliefs. Again
and again, for example: the son of a clergyman ends as an atheist, because the
father and mother have unwisely tried to force him to think along their lines.
This harm is done only because they themselves want to be intellectually
comfortable. The disciple must always be careful that his desire to be
emotionally or intellectually comfortable does not make him interfere with other
people's rights, and that he does not let it stand in the way of duty or of help
that he might give.
It is essential that we should be happy, as the Chohan says here, although
certainly we do not live for happiness.
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I think many forget the duty of happiness. They do not regard it as a duty,
although most emphatically it is that. It is a necessary part of progress. The
person who is always mournful and depressed about what is happening is making no
progress, and it is well that he should understand that. As I have said before,
it is necessary that we should become more and more sensitive, because unless we
bring ourselves into that condition we cannot answer in a moment to the
slightest signal from the Master. It is unquestionably difficult to be very
sensitive and at the same time radiantly happy, yet that is what we must be.
There is a great deal that calls for the deepest sympathy, and it is difficult
to feel sympathy with those who are suffering, without also feeling sorrow; yet,
as I have explained, the Master sympathizes far more than we can, but certainly
does not feel the sorrow as sorrow.1
There might be very much less suffering and very much less sorrow if the people
to whom the sorrow and suffering are coming now had lived quite differently in
other lives, perhaps thousands of years ago, but considering that they lived as
they did, that which is now happening is the best that can happen for their
progress. We cannot help being sorry that it is not better, but ,our sorrow is
not for what is going on now, but for the previous happenings which made this
necessary. Possibly that sounds a little cold, but when we understand how
utterly the result is part of the cause, we can see that what is happening now
is actually part of the causes
1 Ante, Vol. II, p. 329.
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which the people themselves set in motion long ago, and it could not be other
than it is while the divine law of cause and effect is operating.
All this suffering can only be altered now by bringing in new forces. We can
sometimes relieve sorrow and suffering to a certain extent. Whenever we do that,
it is not in the least that we abrogate the working of the law, it is not at all
that everything does not flow in harmony with that law, but that we introduce a
new force which also comes within the operation of the law, and mitigates much
which, otherwise, would have been the effect of what went before. But though we
can sometimes relieve and help, it is, as I explained before, quite difficult
for many of us to get always into the attitude of being perfectly sympathetic
and yet recognizing the necessity of the suffering, though we can do it quite
well in certain things. Suppose some friend whom we love very much has to
undergo a surgical operation. Of course we are sorry that it should be so, but
it does not occur to us to say that it ought not to be so, because we recognize
that the operation is intended to do good, and we trust that its result will be
an improvement in his health. Therefore however sorry and anxious we may be, we
regard it as an unfortunate, a regrettable, necessity. All sorrow and suffering
are nothing but that—operations to remove dangerous growths.
Much of the sorrow of the world can be avoided, because a great deal of it does
not come from the past but is the result of men's present foolishness. They take
things in a wrong way. For example, we frequently
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allow ourselves to be hurt or offended or worried. That is not karma from the
past. In many cases seven-eighths of the trouble which comes to people is not
from without at all; it is due entirely to the way in which they take their
experiences. The karma that comes to us from without is only a small amount, but
we magnify it very greatly; that is our present fault, and it can be remedied.1
Most people who live for happiness seek to attain that happiness in various
ways: by surrounding themselves with the people with whom they feel happy, by
going where they expect to find enjoyment, and so on. That the disciple should
not do, because he ought to be in the position of being perfectly happy in
himself, without reference to particular outer conditions. That is difficult for
us, because, through many lives we have been very largely the sport of
circumstances. If we observe people we shall find that most of them are in that
condition still. The majority of people in the world make very little effort to
change the conditions in which they find themselves. If they find themselves
depressed or readily offended and therefore unhappy, they should set to work to
change those conditions. Instead of doing that they grumble about those who
offend them, and say that it is quite impossible to get on with such people. Yet
those others are probably people very much like the rest of the world. Our
happiness depends upon how these people are taken, upon our attitude towards
their attitude. If
1 Ante., Vol. I, Part I, Ch. 1: The Occult Path and the Interests of the World;
Part IV, Ch. 1: Control of Mind; Ch. 4: Cheerfulness; Vol. II, pp. 141,218,244.
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our study of occultism has brought any fruit we will say: " I do not mind what
position they take up; that is their business, not mine; my business is to take
care that I am not offended and worried, that I preserve a peaceful condition,
whatever these other people do or think."
One may say that it is very difficult to do that, if other people are aggressive
or insulting. But is it not obvious that the effect produced by the insulting
and aggressive attitude depends upon the way in which it is met ? If we allow
ourselves to be affected by it, a great deal of disturbance is set up. • We on
our side show something of the same nature, and • to the onlooker it would seem
that some of that aggression is justified. But if we are perfectly calm, the man
who abuses us puts himself in the wrong, and the outsider can see that we are
not in the wrong. Of course, we should not remain calm in order to appear in the
right, but we should adopt a philosophical attitude, because we do not feel
these attempts to attack us or to interfere with us; and thus we can be happy.
That seems a sort of negative happiness, to avoid pain or suffering. We can do a
great deal more than that; we who are trying to live according to the precepts
of occultism—students of the inner life—must be doing something of the world's
work. Assuredly no one can see the Plan of the Logos, and the work that is to be
done to carry out that Plan, without trying to do as much as he can for it, and
the fact that he is engaged in that work keeps a man busy and happy. We should
have no time for depression, no time to worry about all these outer
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things. If we are all the time busily engaged in pouring out good thought, in
sending strong wishes, strong currents of goodwill to all around us, we are
fully occupied, and are happy in the work itself.
It is sad to see the way in which people all about us are constantly talking
about doing things " to pass the time " They do this or that for the sake of
having something to do. It is both ludicrous and pitiable, because the world is
full of opportunities to do good and noble deeds, and these people are not even
looking for the opportunities. They are just trying somehow or other to amuse
themselves, that they may get through the time—a most extraordinary attitude to
take.
The student of occultism finds that he cannot get time enough to do all that he
would like to do. All those who are really willing to work are overwhelmed with
work; there is always more to be done than they can possibly do. Dr. Besant
works indefatigably from early in the morning until very late at night without
any rest, and hers is a very different thing from the ordinary man's idea of
work. Some men who are in business are certainly closely occupied the whole
time, but most people's idea of work is to do a little and have a rest, and then
take the matter up again and spend a little more time at it. They would call
that very close attention to work. That is not the way in which she works. Even
while she is listening to some story that is being told to her, she will
continue writing and still know every word of what one is telling her, and be
perfectly ready at the end of the story to give help or advice. She loses
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no single moment. She is always prepared, if she happens to be waiting at a
railway station, to take out a little dispatch box and begin writing articles or
letters at once. It is not given to every one—and think of the age which her
body has now reached—to do that, especially as a great deal of the work is of a
very searching character, and calls for quick decision in many different
directions. People who are paid for work do not do it in that way. It is
precisely because all that she does is done for the love of it that she is able
to do so much. Certainly she is happy in her work, always ready to meet people
with a friendly smile, and is thus a great inspiration to all those who come
into contact with her. We would do well to follow in her steps as far as we can,
remembering always the duty of happiness. If we are not happy, then we are not
doing enough; it is a sure proof that we are wasting time. We should get to work
and do something, and at once the unhappiness will vanish, because there will
not be time for it. The interest in the work is so keen and the amount to be
done so great, that we shall find ourselves thinking of that, and we shall have
no time to think of anything in the nature of unhappiness.
Seek in the heart the source of evil and expunge it. It lives fruitfully in the
heart of the devoted disciple as well as in the heart of the man of desire. Only
the strong can kill it out. The weak must wait for its growth, its fruition, its
death. And it is a plant that lives and increases throughout the ages. It
flowers when the man has accumulated
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unto himself innumerable existences. He who will enter upon the path of power
must tear this thing out of his heart. And then the heart will bleed, and the
whole life of the man seem to be utterly dissolved. This ordeal must be endured;
it may come at the first step of the perilous ladder which leads to the path of
life: it may not come until the last. But, O disciple, remember that it has to
be endured, and fasten the energies of your soul upon the task. Live neither in
the present nor the future, but in the Eternal. This giant weed cannot flower
there: this blot upon existence is wiped out by the very atmosphere of eternal
thought.
C.W.L.—This is the remainder of Rule 4, the Chohan's comment on the first three
rules. The giant weed is the heresy of separateness—the idea of the separated
self—which is truly the source of evil. We are directed to kill it out by
stages. We are told first to unify the lower and the higher self, that is to
say, to merge the personality in the individuality. For most of us the personal
self is still so near that it tends to shut out the higher things. We have to
work our way through that and gradually to transcend it, to get entirely rid of
all selfishness. Then we have to begin upon the individuality.
Now, the individuality, the ego, is a very wonderful thing—complex, exceedingly
beautiful and marvelously adapted to its surroundings, a glorious being indeed;
yet eventually we must realize that even that is only an
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instrument that we have created by the working of many ages for the sake of the
progress of the Monad. Because we have had to develop the idea of the separated
self in the earlier stages of our progress, the giant weed, or the seed of it,
is in the heart of everybody. That has to be killed out at one time or another,
yet only the strong can tear it out from themselves at the beginning of their
development. The weak must wait and let it go on growing while they are
developing sufficient strength to kill it out. That is unfortunate for them,
because the longer it is allowed to persist the more closely it becomes
intertwined with the nature of the man. Those who can summon the courage to tear
it out now will make rapid and much surer progress. Terrible as the struggle is
to get rid of this separated self at any time, it will be thousands of times
more difficult if we leave it until the later stages of our progress. Until it
is finally destroyed we shall be subject to all kinds of difficulties and
dangers from which we can escape only by getting rid of it here and now.
Obviously, therefore, it is best to kill it out in the beginning.
All systems of occult teaching agree in advising students to try from the very
beginning to get rid of this illusion. The difficulty in the way, apart from the
habit of thinking of ourselves as separate, is that this idea has been the
source of all our strength in the past. When the ego was first formed as an
individual he was distinctly weak. He had been, until then, part of a group
soul, and the idea of separate identity was not strong in him. It had to be
intensified through the savage life.
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The man's strength gradually grew from the feeling, " I am I" In the earlier
days it would be: " I am a great fighter and a swift runner; I am a mighty
headsman; I can lead armies; I can guide men; I can make them do as I will."
Later on, it would express itself on a higher level as: "I have a mighty
intellect; I can trust myself; I am proud of myself; I am a great man; I can
think more strongly than other men and therefore I have power over their minds,
and can sway them to do this or that." It is through the sense of separateness
that we have learnt to be self-reliant.
Later there comes a stage when self-reliance means reliance upon the Higher
Self. The man no longer relies either on the skill of his hand, the fleetness of
his foot and the strength of his muscles, or on his intellectual powers, but
comes to realize that there is a strength of the spirit which is greater far
than all these outer manifestations, and when this stage is reached he soon
begins to see that the strength of his spirit is the strength of the infinite
that lies behind it, because it is one with God Himself. Thus our self-reliance
at last becomes reliance on Him—on the mighty Power behind. We are He, and in
relying on God we are relying on ourselves, because each of us is a spark of the
Divine> and the Godhead is in us. We only need to realize that and to unfold it,
and then the self on which we rely becomes the great Self which is the All.
This idea of the separated self is ingrained in us and is part of the very ego
which is the one permanent thing about us as far as we know. We have still to
learn that
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there is the Monad; that will seem the true Self when we have laid aside the
individuality. Yet when that time comes we shall see far more clearly than we do
now that those Monads are only sparks of the Eternal Flame. We know it now
theoretically, and true realization of it will come to all in due course; it has
come to some already. I have explained before that when the consciousness is
focused in the highest part of the causal body it is possible to look up the
line that joins the Monad and the ego. Looking up that line into the Monad of
which we know so little, and beyond it, we can see and know with a definiteness
and certainty that no words can express down here, that all we have thought of
as the Self and as belonging to us, is not we, but He; that if we had any
intellect, any devotion or affection, it was not we at all, but it was the
intellect, the devotion, the love which is God, which was showing itself forth
through us.1 When a man has had that experience he can never be quite the same
again; he cannot come down again in the same way to the personal point of view,
because he knows with the certainty that convinces. Some experience like that is
needed to counteract the result of the development of the separated self which
at present is a great trouble and causes us much sorrow and suffering by
obscuring our view of Life. We are in this curious position that our
self-development is due to the idea of separateness up to a certain point, and
it is only when we have reached that point that it becomes an evil, and we have
to get rid of it. Humanity has 1 Ante., Vol. I, Part II, Ch. 2: The Life of the
Bodies.
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now reached a stage where it ought to be realizing that. That is why the duty of
unselfishness is impressed upon us so strongly by all occult and high religious
teaching. Humanity as a whole needs that. It is still in the selfish stage,
trying to grasp this and that for itself. The whole of our strength must be
turned against that tendency.
At the same time we must try to be very tolerant about it. We often feel
impatient with the rampant, the brutal selfishness found everywhere, but that is
useless. These unfortunate people are only carrying on now what was necessary
for their development thousands of years ago: We should help them, if possible;
we should always be gentle and tolerant, but very firm as to the necessity for
getting rid of this point of view. Some of us find it helpful to try to realize
the progress of humanity as a whole and to make a practice of thinking of
ourselves as part of it. We try to act on the advice given by one of our Masters
who once put it thus: " If you succeed in taking a step of some kind, if you
succeed in making definite advancement, you should not think: ' I have done
this, I am really getting on.' The better way to put it is: ' I am glad that
this has happened, because humanity through me is just that much nearer to
finding itself—that much nearer to the final goal which God means it to reach;
humanity through me has taken this step, and the fact that it has done so means
a very little advance for every other unit." One may thus think of the whole of
humanity, as a man thinks of the whole of his family, as a unit, from the baby
to the old grandfather, and so considers the welfare of all.
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We are told that we should live neither in the present nor the future, but in
the Eternal. He who lives in the Eternal is the Logos, the Deity. He, living in
the Eternal, sees the future as well as the present, sees the fulfillment of all
these things. If we could raise ourselves up into His point of view we should be
able to live in the Eternal as He does. That is not a thing that we can achieve
to-day or to-morrow. We must fight our way towards it. A divine dissatisfaction
is a necessity for our progress towards it. We must never be satisfied with the
condition we have reached; that .would at once mean stagnation. We must always
aim at doing better and better, and by living in the future we shall learn how
to do that.
At the same time, while we are always reaching forward, always striving upward,
it is a mistake to allow ourselves to feel discontented or worried with regard
to transitory happenings to the temporary condition of ourselves and others. It
is wiser and better to project ourselves into the future and live in it. We
should say: " I am at the moment such and such a person, with certain faults and
failings. I am going to transcend these faults and failings. Let me look forward
to the time when they will no longer exist." It is a great thing to live for
tomorrow and not for yesterday. The world at large is living for the centuries
which lie behind it and is clinging to old prejudices. We should look forward to
the future and live for that.
Keep your thought hopefully on the future, not regretfully on the past. The
present is very largely an illusion;
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so we are not really dissatisfied with what we are doing, but with what we have
just done. If we want to get on we must keep our eyes in front of us. To look
behind is not the way to make progress. If that course were persisted in on the
physical plane we should not go far without meeting with an accident, and the
same thing is true in these higher realms also. The more we think over it the
clearer it becomes that in the three aphorisms we have just been examining, viz.
" Kill out ambition, kill out desire of life, and kill out desire of comfort",
all that moves the ordinary man to exertion has been absolutely cut away.
A man's life is first of all directed by the desire to keep himself and his
family alive, " to keep his head above water "; he has always the ambition of
rising to higher levels; he wishes for greater comfort for himself and for his
family. These are precisely the mainsprings which move the ordinary man, and it
is obvious that if all of them should be absolutely removed from him, he would
be left supine—he would be left without any reason to bestir himself at all; he
would be like a log. He would say: " If I am not to have ambition of any sort,
if I am to cease to desire either life or comfort, why should I do anything? Why
should I move at all?" He would be left without any adequate motive for exertion
of any kind, and all progress for him would be at an end. It is obvious that for
him the killing out of these things would have a bad effect.
Even the man who is nearly ready to tread the Path, who has ceased to feel any
interest in lower things,
1 12
reaches a stage when there is danger of his falling into a state of inaction.
Intellectually he is absolutely convinced that all these lower things are not
worth pursuing, and because they have ceased to attract him he does not feel
inclined to put forth energy in any direction. That is an experience which comes
to nearly every one in the course of his evolution, and is a very real trouble
to numbers of people. They have got rid of the lower and not taken on the
higher. They are at a transition stage between the two; they have not
sufficiently realized the unity for that to be the great motive power in life,
but they have realized enough of it to know that the desires of the separated
self are not worth following. So they remain in a condition of suspended
animation. It is for some students a very great difficulty to rouse themselves
out of this state. Nothing is worth while; nothing has any longer any interest
for them. They want to die and be done with it.
The only way for a man to get beyond that unsatisfactory condition is to go a
little further, and then he will begin to see that there is a higher and truer
life which is infinitely well worth the living. He will find that when he has
glimpsed the divine scheme he wants to throw himself into it—he cannot do
otherwise. In identifying himself with the One Life, and acting as part of that
Life, he finds the one motive which can stir him to action. When he takes that
one step further and begins to realize the Life of the Self, then instead of
wanting to fall into annihilation and to be done with everything, he will long
to possess more and more energy
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in order to throw it into this glorious work. The motive power of the One Self
will stir him to far greater activity than ever before, because it is infinitely
more powerful than any lower motive, and the man who works with it to fulfill the
high purposes of the Deity will gain infinite happiness and infinite peace.
CHAPTER 5 RULES 5 TO 8
5. Kill out all sense of separateness.
Yet stand alone and isolated, because nothing that is embodied, nothing that is
conscious of separation, nothing that is out of the Eternal, can aid you.
A.B.—This teaching is specially given in this book, intended for the disciple,
because he has to learn to stand utterly alone. Nothing that is embodied, that
is out of the Eternal, can aid him. All help that comes from the embodied is
secondary help and may fail him in the moment of his greatest need. The
biographies of the great Christian mystics show it to have been an invariable
characteristic of their lives that they felt forsaken by every one, and had to
stand absolutely alone. The same truth comes out also in the Christian Gospels,
which contain in the symbol of the life of Jesus an account of the experiences
through which every soul must go in the stages of discipleship. There are there
two scenes which are connected with this statement: the first is that which is
spoken of as the agony of Jesus in the garden of
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Gethsemane, when He found that His friends and followers could not watch with
Him even for a little time, and He learned that He must go on alone; the second
was the cry from the cross: " My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me? " These
experiences are connected with the fourth great Initiation, when the man is
thrown back upon himself and learns to rest upon the inner Self alone, to
realize that he himself is only an expression of the Eternal in the outer world.
There is always a danger that in this last great test the disciple will break
down.
A double task lies before the disciple. He must kill out the sense of
separateness, but he must learn to stand alone in order that he may be strong
with the strength of the divine within himself. He must be like a star in
heaven, that gives light to all but takes it from none. He can learn that only
from the experience of isolation. Yet the sense of isolation is illusory, for he
is in the Eternal. The illusion is due to the breaking away of all the forms
before the realization of unity—of being the Eternal—develops in the
consciousness.
This aphorism with its comment also contains other important thoughts. There is
a stage at which the aspirant must stand aside from the body of men, because of
his weakness, not of his strength. Sometimes a man is so near the condition of
other men around him, who still lead the lower life that he has left, that he
feels that by keeping company with them he is likely to be dragged down into
their vices. At that time the sentiment of repulsion is useful; and although it
does
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show that he is in a lower stage of development yet he will do well to follow it
and avoid their company.
When a man speaks with horror of a certain vice you may be sure that in the near
past he has been in the grip of it. In the recent past there has been a fight
against that vice, and his inner consciousness, from which nothing disappears,
now warns him against it. There is a stage when a man has risen higher, when he
need not seek such isolation from those who are still sinning. But so long as
that is not the case, so long as he is liable to fall into vice on account of an
impulse from outside, a man's safety lies in his running away from the
temptation, until he is strong enough to go amidst that vice without being
attracted by it. Only when a man has got beyond the power of falling into
attraction by vice will he usually get over his horror and repulsion.
Then he has come to the stage at which he ought to think of the sinner as in
need of his help. The very thought of his own past faults will now enable him to
help others. We cannot help them as long as we ourselves are liable to fall, but
only when we are neither attracted nor repelled, when we recognize our identity
with those who are struggling. We then remember that the sin of the world is our
own sin—the profound truth that no man can be perfectly clean while another
remains unclean. While a man remains part of humanity its life is his; to escape
from that, he must go outside humanity. The vice of any man is our vice, until
he also has got rid of it. Upon that truth the saving of the world entirely
turns.
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That should be the thought of any disciple if he should find himself under
special temptation. He should realize that he must not yield to the temptation,
because in his fall there is a fall for the whole of humanity. Such knowledge
ought to be sufficient to keep him from evil. Suppose you attempt to realize
in consciousness the life of humanity, and then try to conquer a particular
weakness; you will then feel that your own conquest is not a conquest for
yourself, but for all. The whole of humanity is helped because one part of it
has struggled and conquered. This idea will very often give you great
strength. It is indeed worth while to struggle for the sake of the whole, if
not for your own personal self. C.W.L.—People sometimes make these instructions
harder for themselves than they need be, and perhaps also a little unreal, by
exaggerating them. We have to face the fact that there is separation down
here on the physical plane. We may feel as completely fraternal as we can, but
the fact nevertheless remains that in space our physical bodies are separate.
Sometimes people want to deny that fact; they try to carry the idea of
non-separateness to such a point as to make it unreasonable. That can never be
right in occultism. Occult teaching is always the very essence of
reasonableness and common sense, and whenever anything is put before us which is
obviously unreasonable, we may feel sure there is a mistake somewhere. In
some cases it may appear unreasonable because we are not in possession of
all the facts, but when the facts are all before us and the statement still has
an unreasonable appearance, we are
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justified in doubting it and waiting for further enlightenment.
Though our physical bodies are separate in space there is really less separation
than there appears to be. We all react upon one another to such an extent that
no man can in any sense really live to himself alone. If one physical body has a
certain disease, all the others near are liable to contract it. If the astral
body is diseased in the sense of being, let us say, given to irritability, envy,
jealousy, selfishness and so on, it is also infectious, because it radiates out
its vibrations, and other astral bodies in the neighbourhood must be to some
extent affected by such radiation. When, for example, people sit together at a
meeting their astral bodies interpenetrate to a considerable degree, because the
astral body of an ordinary person extends about eighteen inches around the
physical body—in some cases still further— so that, although they are still
quite separate, they must react considerably on one another. The same is true of
the mental body, and even our causal bodies are separate in space and in
condition. So we must understand this killing out of the sense of separateness
in conformity with the facts of nature.
There is no separateness on the buddhic plane. There consciousnesses do not
necessarily merge instantly at the lowest level, but they gradually grow wider
and wider until, when we reach the highest level of the buddhic plane, and have
fully developed ourselves through all its different subdivisions, we find
ourselves consciously one with humanity. That is the lowest level at which the
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separateness is absolutely non-existent; in its fullness the conscious unity
with all belongs to the next plane —the nirvanic.
Suppose that all of us could develop the buddhic consciousness within ourselves
simultaneously. Each one would realize that he had risen to that level, and that
his consciousness included that of all the others, but he would still feel that
inclusive consciousness to be his consciousness. None of us would have lost his
sense of individuality at all, only in it he would include very much more than
he had ever done before. He would feel himself as manifesting through all these
others as well. Really what we are experiencing is the one consciousness which
includes us all, the consciousness of the Logos Himself.
It is on the nirvanic plane that we realize most intensely that all that we
thought to be our consciousness, our intellect, our devotion, our love, were in
reality His consciousness, His intellect, His love, His devotion, manifesting
through us somewhat as a light might shine through a lens. That realization does
not come fully to the man in the buddhic world, but it does so come to him in
that next above.
In the Stanzas of Dzyan it is said, referring to man: " The spark hangs from the
Flame by the finest thread of Fohat." l That, I believe, is applicable at
various levels; for us it may be taken to mean that the ego hangs from the Monad
by the finest thread, and that thread runs through the buddhic plane. The finest
1 The Secret Doctrine, Vol. I, p. 66.
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thread of which you can think is all that represents the ordinary man at these
buddhic levels. As soon as he turns his attention to higher matters—when he is
regularly thinking of them and aiming at them—that thread begins to thicken. It
gradually becomes more and more like a cable, and later on it appears as a
funnel, because it widens out up above (I am speaking of it now as one would see
it clairvoyantly), and comes down into the causal body, which is a thing of
definite size for the time. Later on the causal body itself is enlarged by the
inrushing of forces, and the funnel becomes very much larger, widening out at
the bottom as well as the top. At the first Initiation (for many, this
experience comes before that), the man abandons the causal body and plunges into
the buddhic plane. At that time, as I have explained before, the causal body
absolutely vanishes—the one thing that has seemed permanent through his long
line of lives, since he left the animal kingdom, disappears.1 When that occurs
this funnel shapes itself into a sphere. There are more dimensions there, so
that I cannot actually describe it, but this is how it appears to one who is
able to see it.
After a man has taken the first Initiation the sense of separateness is one of
the failings which have to be entirely conquered before he can take the second.
It is the first of the ten sanyojana or fetters which he has to cast off on his
way up the steps of the Path. It is made possible for him finally and
irrevocably to cast it off by the experience which is part of that first
Initiation. He
1 Ante., Vol. I, Part II, Ch. 2: The Life of the Bodies.
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gets then merely a touch of the buddhic consciousness. It does not mean
necessarily that he can go back into that condition of consciousness whenever he
will, but at least he has experienced it, and having once felt the unity, he
knows that it exists even though he may be incapable of re-entering it without
the aid of the Master. He knows, therefore, that the sense of separateness is an
illusion. It is practically impossible for us down here in the physical body to
grasp that really. We constantly speak of it and we try to persuade ourselves
that we feel it, but as long as one is in a physical body and until one has had
that higher experience, frankly I do not think one can feel it. We persuade
ourselves of it intellectually but really to feel it is a different thing.
When a man begins to function on the buddhic plane, he enters it at its lowest
level, but he is unable at first to make the most even of that lowest sub-plane.
He will feel an intensity of bliss which no words can express, and an extension
of consciousness which by contrast with anything which he has ever felt before,
will no doubt give the idea that the whole world is included. Nevertheless it is
not so at all. When he is sufficiently accustomed to this higher level to
analyse it, he will find that the extension of consciousness, though a very
great one, is by no means as yet full or universal. Gradually he extends the
sphere which he can effectively occupy. It is somewhat like the way in which an
army occupies a conquered territory. He establishes himself first, and then
gradually extends that part over which he has definite power, until it includes
the entire
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country. He then proceeds to try to push his consciousness into the next
sub-plane; but even after he has worked his way through sub-plane after
sub-plane until he reaches the highest, he has not necessarily built the buddhic
vehicle. The man who has the buddhic consciousness within his reach by
meditation or by effort can always raise himself into that condition. The man
who has definitely built a buddhic vehicle has that consciousness all the time
in the background of his lower physical, astral or mental consciousness. That is
another and separate achievement and a difficult one, because to do that the
causal body must be eliminated, must be destroyed as a separating wall.
One whose consciousness works on the buddhic plane during meditation finds that
although he is one with all the wonderful consciousness of the plane, yet there
is a little circle of emptiness shutting him out from the rest. This little
barrier is, of course, the causal body. In order that the buddhic vehicle shall
be developed, even that must disappear. Then the man feels the reality of
unobstructed Life in a way impossible to describe down here. Madame Blavatsky
expressed the idea as a circle with its centre everywhere and its circumference
nowhere—a very beautiful and expressive description.1 Of course it is a paradox,
but all things that can be said about these higher conditions must necessarily
be paradoxical.
When the unity is fully realized the man feels, however paradoxical it may
sound, as though his vehicle at that
1 Ante., Vol. II, p. 67.
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level filled the whole of the plane, as though he could transfer his point of
consciousness to any place within that plane and still be the centre of the
circle. It is an experience which is quite indescribable. Along with that
feeling, permeating and accompanying it always, is a sense of the most intense
bliss—bliss of which we can have no conception at all on these lower planes—
something vivid, active, fiery beyond all imagination. Most bliss down here, at
the rare moments when we feel anything deserving of the name, consists chiefly
in the absence of pain. We are happy and blissful down here when, for a moment,
we are free from fatigue and pain, when we can relax and feel that we are taking
in pleasant influences. That is rather a negative feeling. The bliss of the
buddhic plane is the most intensely active, vivid feeling. I do not know in the
least how to express it If you could imagine the most intense activity that you
have ever felt and then replace that vivid and strenuous activity by a feeling
of bliss, then somehow raise it—spiritualize it—to an altogether higher plane,
to the nth power, it would convey some idea of what that feeling is.
It is an active reality which is quite overpowering in its strength. There is
nothing at all passive about it; one is not resting. Down here we live lives of
so much strain and strenuousness that rest is always a very prominent part of
any ideal we may have; but there it is not in the least a feeling that one is
resting or wanting to rest. One is a tremendous incarnate energy whose
expression is to pour itself forth, and the idea of rest or
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the need of rest is entirely outside one's consciousness. What to us here seems
rest would seem a kind of negation up there. We have become one with the
expression of the divine power, and that divine power is active life. People
talk of the rest of nirvana—but that is from the lower point of view. It is the
intensity of power that is the real characteristic of this higher life— a power
so intense that it does not show itself in any sort of ordinary movement at all,
but rather in one vast resistless sweep which might look like rest when viewed
from below, but which means the consciousness of absolute power. It is
impossible to express all this in words. When we have achieved this we have
finally conquered the giant weed—the great enemy, the sense of separateness. It
is the hardest task, on the whole, that is before us, because it involves
everything else.
It is only after the buddhic body is fully developed on all the seven sub-planes
that the man has the full fruition of the whole plane, a complete power of
identification with the whole of humanity, so that he can learn through that
relation what all these people think and feel. Before that buddhic consciousness
is gained we may labour to reduce the sense of separateness and it may be done
with great success intellectually, but we still remain outside, in the sense of
not understanding others. They will still be an absolute mystery, for man is the
greatest of mysteries to his fellow-man. We may come into very close relations
with people for quite a long time, and yet not really know them inside. It may
be that until the buddhic level is reached no man ever really knows any
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other man thoroughly.1 When a man reaches that condition he is able to pour
himself down into the consciousness of others and see what they do and why they
act in that particular way. There all things are within him instead of outside,
and he studies them as parts of himself. It sounds impossible down here, but
that is something of what he feels. All the joy of the world is his joy; its
suffering is his suffering. When he chooses to put himself down through any one
of the million tentacles—the consciousness of other people with which he is
one—then he can and does experience all which that person is experiencing. In
this way all the world's suffering is within his reach, but he knows with
absolute certainty that it is a necessary part of the plan and has no existence
on those higher levels. He is in no way less sympathetic with it, yet he knows
that " Brahman is Bliss," and that to be one with the divine is a state of
perpetual inner joy. It is only when one gains that development that one can
fully help others.
When a man touches that consciousness he has for a time withdrawn from these
lower physical levels where he can be perturbed or upset, and he is himself part
of the divine joy. When he comes back again into his mental, astral and physical
bodies he may permit little troubles to annoy him. This ought not to be so; but
still there is a great gap between the higher life and that lived in the
physical body, where small things can still be very irritating. The possibility
of being momentarily annoyed 1 Ante., Vol. II, p. 67.
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by something on the physical plane remains even when a very high level has been
reached, but it is then merely superficial. The things from which people really
suffer in this world are those which they feel to be hopeless. No one can ever
have any feeling of hopelessness after he has touched that higher consciousness,
because when we are absolutely certain that the reality is always joy, we know
that all suffering at lower levels is only temporary, and that even that would
not come to us if we were nearer to perfection.
The power of identification is gained not only with regard to the consciousness
of people but with regard to everything else on the buddhic plane. Everything is
learnt from the inside instead of from the outside. If we wish to study any
subject, any organism, the working of any law of nature—it does not matter
what—up to and including the consciousness of the causal body we have to study
it from without, looking out at it. In the causal body we are able to examine it
with an enormously widened consciousness, with the power of knowing vastly more
about it than we could possibly know on lower planes. But when we get to the
buddhic plane the difference is a fundamental difference. That which we are
examining has become part of ourselves. We examine it as a kind of symptom in
ourselves. It is difficult to put into words because down here we have nothing
exactly like it, but this looking at things from within instead of from without
does give one a very great advantage. It is so different in its characteristics
that we are probably justified in saying that that is the
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first glimpse we get of the way in which the Deity looks at His universe,
because He must have exactly that experience—that that at which he looks must be
part of Himself because there is nothing which is not part of Him. Therefore His
consciousness must be this buddhic consciousness raised to the nth power, and
with all the insight and glory and splendour of which we can have no idea on any
plane as yet. One can understand very clearly why that world is spoken of as the
real, and all these lower ones as the unreal, because the difference is so great
and the attitude is so entirely changed that any other way of looking at things
does seem unreal, even ridiculous when once one has learned to see them from the
inside.
It is not so utterly impossible as many students think to attain to that higher
sight. A reasonable number of people have succeeded in this incarnation, here
and now, in gaining it. It is certainly within reach of those who will try hard
enough, if they are willing to follow the rules—willing to adopt the utter
selflessness which is required, because so long as there is anything personal in
the disciple's point of view he cannot make any progress with this buddhic
consciousness, which depends on the suppression of the personality.
The idea of separateness shows itself in certain ways in daily life, and it is
well to watch against those manifestations. One way in which people show it very
much is by their desire for power over other separated selves. One half of the
world is everlastingly trying to interfere with the other half. This habit is so
ingrained in us that
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we do not notice it; we usually regard it in the light of good advice. About one
case in two thousand may happen to be that, but in most of the others we are
simply asserting our separated self by endeavouring to impress ourselves upon
the other people.
Physically, we try to make other people do things our way and to give way to us;
we are perpetually trying to get them to adopt our particular plan, whatever it
may be. Because it is ours it is the best plan in the world and we want to
force it upon every one else. We find the same thing at the intellectual
level. People try constantly to force their opinions and their ideas upon
others. When a man has developed a keen intellect he begins subtly, slowly,
to want to dominate other people by means of that intellect. Just because his
thought becomes keener and stronger than that of others he tries to mould their
thought by his. It is well and good that we should want to share with others
all that we know; that we should set before them what we have found so good for
ourselves. But as a rule that is not the idea which exists behind this desire
to dominate other minds. It usually co-exists with a certain amount of contempt
for the other people. We think: " These people are like sheep; we can sweep
them along; we can make them think what we like." It is to a large extent
true that a man who has learned to think, as we should be learning by
meditation and study, can dominate the thoughts of others very easily; but we
should not do it, because anything like domination is bad for the other man's
evolution and not good for our own. So even this
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desire for intellectual domination must be resisted. It is part of the vice
of separateness.
When we have got rid of that there is still a higher possibility along that
line—in the realm of the spiritual we may also try to make people take our path.
That is at the back of all endeavour to convert people from one religion to
another. It is perhaps not quite fair to put it in that way, because
Christianity at least starts with the gigantic delusion that unless people
believe its particular shibboleths they will have a very unpleasant hereafter,
therefore its attempt to convert others comes to have the colour of altruism. It
assumes: " Orthodoxy is my doxy and heterodoxy is your doxy," and: " What I
believe is true and you must come into line with it." When we have developed
spirituality, when we have learned many things that others do not know, it is
right and proper that we should preach our gospel, that we should wish to tell
others what we have found and give them every opportunity to follow us into
these realms of higher thought; but if that wish is tinged with a desire to
dominate them—a desire that is often found along with many good qualities—there
is still a touch of the old separated self about it, and the " giant weed " is
not finally uprooted.
We must also get rid entirely of the wish to dominate others because so long as
a man is working for the separated self he belongs to that great mass of
separated selves which is such a terrible burden in evolution. The moment he
begins to realize the unity, he ceases to be
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part of the weight which has to be lifted and begins to be one of the lifters.
To stand alone and isolated means that one must not be dependent on anyone
outside oneself, because no separated person or thing can really ultimately be
of use to us. Help must be found within ourselves. The Master can help us all
the time in our efforts, but even he cannot do the actual work for us. He is
constantly suggesting things to us, pouring help into us in every way, but at
every step it is we ourselves who must do the work. As we go on we must learn to
stand apparently entirely alone, without the Master's direct help, but that is
an illusion because no one can ever really be separated from the Master, or from
the Deity of whom that Master is a part. Still, we must act as though we were
alone, and at certain stages in our evolution we shall feel absolutely alone;
yet if we can bring the intellect to bear upon it, though it is a difficult
matter under such circumstances, we at once recognize that we never can be
really alone. We are part of God and cannot cease to be so, because if we did we
should altogether cease to be, we should be unconscious.
We are part of something which can never cease to be, and therefore the idea of
loneliness is an illusion, though it causes great pain and suffering. On the
physical plane a man is often least alone when he thinks himself most alone;
when he is in the midst of a crowd the higher things can touch him less easily,
therefore he is more separated from them. But when these separated selves are
not so close around him the influences of the
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non-separated Self can play upon him much more fully, and so it is really true
to say that the man is least of all alone when he thinks or feels himself most
alone.
It is hardly possible to form any conception of the awful feeling of being
absolutely alone in the universe— a point floating in space. That is the
condition called avichi, which means " the waveless state ". It is a condition
of consciousness in which a man appears to himself to stand outside the
vibrations of the Divine Life, and is said to be the most terrible experience
that can come to a man. That is the end of the black magician, who for many
lives has striven definitely and determinedly for separateness, who has directly
set himself against the unifying forces of evolution. The pupil of the Master
must learn to sympathize even with the black magician who suffers from avouch;
therefore once in his development a man must experience that state of
consciousness. He touches it only for a moment but he can never forget it, and
henceforth he will always be able to understand the suffering of those who
remain for ages in such a condition as that. When for us that moment comes, we
should remember that whatever is, is God, and that we cannot be separated from
Him even though we feel that we are—we must realize that it is a final illusion
which must be conquered.
We all have to stand alone and isolated because each of us must learn to depend
upon himself and to realize that he is God, that the divine spark in him is in
truth part of the All. Until we can do that we are not entirely reliable for the
higher phases of the Master's work. In
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the meantime, for all our ordinary work in life, whether physical, astral or
mental, the knowledge that the Master envelops us and is close behind us all the
time is a very great strength and comfort. We do our regular work each night on
the astral or mental plane, as the case may be, and in doing it we know always
that the power of the Master protects us. If at any moment we encounter
something enormously stronger than ourselves which threatens to overwhelm us,
just as on the physical plane a great storm or earthquake might do, we always
know that we can draw indefinitely, infinitely, on his power. Even that the
disciple must learn to do without, when the time comes, but only in order that
he may become as strong a centre as the Master himself.
Do not fancy you can stand aside from the bad man or the foolish man. They are
yourself, though in a less degree than your friend or your Master. But if you
allow the idea of separateness from any evil thing or person to grow up within
you, by so doing you create karma, which will bind you to that thing or person
till your soul recognizes that it cannot be isolated.
C.W.L.—This is the first part of a long note by the Master Hilarion. Of course
we all hold in theory that humanity is a mighty brotherhood and is really a
unity. The Master here admits that there are degrees in this unity, and that
there are therefore degrees of separate-ness, that we are to some extent more
separated from the bad and the foolish than we are from our friend or
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our Master. The idea of the brotherhood of man is often twisted to imply the
equality of man, which it really cannot mean. In any family of many brothers
there must be considerable differences of age among them, and there must
similarly be differences of soul age among these members of the greater human
brotherhood. Again, just as in the physical family it is the business of the
elder to help and train the younger, so in the family of humanity must the elder
protect the younger and help them in any way they can. Brotherhood implies
variety; it requires this difference of age, and also that many people shall be
doing different kinds of work.
One of the finest symbols of brotherhood that I have come across was a vision of
one of our members of an Eastern temple supported by many hundreds of pillars.
He said: " All these pillars are helping to support the temple, and they are
therefore symbols of individual souls who form a part of the temple of humanity.
Some of these pillars are on the outside, are seen and admired all the time.
They also face the sunshine and the rain. Others are far away in the interior of
the forest of pillars, never having the sun shining directly upon them at all,
never being admired by people as they pass. Some of these pillars are in places
where the worshippers gather round and sit leaning against the plinth of the
pillar all day long. Other pillars are in less approachable places, but each one
is an integral part of the temple and is doing its work. That is like the
brotherhood of humanity. Some people may feel that they are doing a great deal;
others may never know of a single opportunity of
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help that comes to them, and yet they are all bearing their part and are just as
much pillars in the temple as those which are more prominent in the public eye."
Many of our students are eager to claim unity with the Master and the saints,
and not so anxious to claim unity with the criminal, the drunkard, the
inefficient, the sensual, the cruel. But since humanity is one, we must be one
with the less evolved people as well as with the greater; in the one case there
is a part of ourselves towards which we must reach up, but in the other case
there is a part of humanity which we must try to help. How can we help them ?
First of all by thinking in the right way about them. If we shrink from them
with horror, if we hate them, we are making their path more difficult. If we
allow the natural and justifiable feeling with regard to the evil that is being
done to influence our attitude towards the person who does it, we are making an
error. It is scarcely possible to avoid that sometimes, but we can always to
some extent reason ourselves out of it.
Doctors meet with cases of the most loathsome and horrible diseases—-which in
many an instance the man concerned has brought entirely upon himself. But no
doctor who is really earnest in his work thinks of that when the patient is
before him. He does not shrink from the man with horror, but regards the disease
as an enemy that has to be fought and conquered. That is a very good example of
the attitude that we ought to be able to adopt when we have to deal with a
degraded person. Undoubtedly the probabilities are that we could
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not produce very much effect upon an absolutely degraded drunkard, whose will is
almost gone; but to shrink from him in horror or to feel contempt is not the way
to help him. In the same way when a man commits a terrible crime we may have the
greatest possible horror of the crime, but not of the criminal. It is difficult
for us to separate them, but we have to do it.
There is another curious little point about that. The things which horrify us
most are those to which we have a certain leaning ourselves—from which we are
conceivably in danger. When one is absolutely free from the slightest tendency
towards a particular crime one looks down on it without horror; but if one feels
oneself filled with horror at a particular human failing, he may take it that it
is a fault which has been a real danger to himself not long ago—perhaps a life
or two back.
When we go among evil influences we sometimes have to surround ourselves with a
shell in order to keep them off. That is often the best policy, since we are
still very human; but to have to do that is to a certain extent a confession of
weakness.1 The absolutely strong man walks straight into the middle of all these
perils, certain that they cannot affect him, but that would not be a wise thing
for all of us to do. Our force is limited and by making a shell we can save
ourselves from using up a certain amount of it unnecessarily. A man who is
perfectly sure of his own power can walk unharmed among all sorts of dangers,
because he is sure of himself. Perfect strength destroys all shrinking. We draw
back
1 Ante., Vol. I, Part V, Ch. 6: Service.
136
from a case of infectious disease because we are afraid we may catch it; if we
were certain we were immune from that disease the idea of catching it would not
occur to us.
The idea that we must not think of ourselves as separate from the wicked or the
foolish man does not necessarily imply that we must always be in close
association with such people, though contact is sometimes useful. There are many
good people who endeavour, in a great city like London, for example, to help the
poor by going to live among them in the slums. Some of our students hold the
opinion that that is also our duty with regard to the wicked and the foolish
people. That is not always the best way to help them. We may learn from the
Masters' conduct in that respect. The Great Ones do not come down and live in
the slums of our great cities. Why do they not do so? For one reason, They would
be unable to carry on their work for humanity. It would take nearly all the time
of the Master to clear a place where he could work at all, and the amount of
work done would be reduced to perhaps one hundredth part of what it would
otherwise be.
So with us; it is not in the least necessary that we should put ourselves into
the worst conditions. On the contrary we can often help more effectively by not
hampering ourselves in that way. If a man finds himself in a peculiarly
unpleasant crowd, perhaps filled with some savage feeling or outburst of
passion, he can throw a shell round himself and so protect himself from the evil
influence, but he cannot do very much with that
10
RULES 5 TO 8 137
crowd while he is occupied in doing that. On the other hand, if he were away
from it he would be able to pour more force upon it. Even then, if a crowd of
undeveloped men is under sway of some crude passion, very little can be done
with it from higher planes, because the force poured out could hardly affect it
while it was in that state. Therefore we need not enter evil surroundings unless
we see clearly that we can do definite good there, although we must do the best
we can if we find ourselves in such an environment. I have heard, for example, of
preachers who have gone into drinking saloons and started a religious service,
and there have been cases where such a bold move as that was actually
successful. There would, of course, be many occasions when such a procedure
would end in a fiasco. In these things, as in war, a very bold and apparently
rash move may occasionally turn out well, but usually more can be accomplished
by working in a reasonable way.
Remember that the sin and shame of the world are your sin and shame; for you are
a part of it; your karma is inextricably interwoven with the great Karma.
We do not realize that down here, but on reaching the buddhic plane we see that
it represents a real truth. There we feel: " I am part of that which humanity
cannot avoid; something exists in it which is a shame to me" and we feel it so
because we as part of humanity have caused it. On the other hand we have our
share in every good that has been done. When one man has
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taken a step forward we feel it as a triumph for all; through him all humanity
has come a little nearer to its goal.
And before you can attain knowledge you must hare passed through all places,
foul and clean alike. Therefore, remember that the soiled garment you shrink
from touching may have been yours yesterday, may be yours tomorrow. And if you
turn with horror from it, when it is flung upon your shoulders, it will cling
the more closely to you. The self-righteous man makes for himself a bed of mire.
Abstain because it is right to abstain, not that yourself shall be kept clean.
This passage, with which the Master Hilarion's note concludes, has often been
misunderstood; some people have interpreted it to mean that each individual at
some time must have committed all possible sins. It does not mean that, because
the wise man does learn something from the experience of others. When we have
seen a person burnt by putting his hand in the fire we need not put our own hand
into it also before we are sure it is not a good thing to do.' So we need not
commit all possible crimes in order to make up our minds about them. We have all
at some stage of evolution risen from a primitive human condition and have
passed through the various stages of life between that and our present
condition, but there is no reason to assume that we did badly in each stage.
There is some reason to suppose that most of us
1 Ante., Vol. II, pp. 106.
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in the course of our long series of lives have sampled the different types of
mistakes which it is possible for a human being to make, but we certainly did
not go through every detail. When one form of a particular evil is touched,
that, I think, stands to the wise soul as experience of a wide range of similar
mistakes.'
Then there is another consideration. Every man when he reaches the buddhic
consciousness looks out through that and experiences all that others experience.
We think of the glory and the wonder of the buddhic consciousness because it
brings us into union with the Masters. We must not forget that it also brings us
into harmony with the vicious and the criminal. Their feelings must be
experienced, as well as the glory and the splendour of the higher life. So when
we are able to touch the buddhic plane we may gain experience of the lower and
more unpleasant aspects of life by entering into the consciousness of the people
who are going through those particular phases. We do not require to do this as a
lesson, because we already know by the hypothesis that these are things which
are impossible for us. But we must have sufficient experience to be perfectly
sympathetic, or we cannot give help to others. The perfectly sympathetic person
knows intuitively the difficulties and temptations of others, and so is full of
love even for the erring one. By sympathy he makes the " soiled garment " his
own. When we have finally abandoned separateness and realized unity we shall
find that we are merged in the divine Life, and that the attitude of love is the
only
1 Ante., Vol. II, p. 106.
140
one which we can adopt towards any of our fellow-men, whether they be higher or
low.
6. Kill out desire for sensation.
Learn from sensation and observe it, because only so can you commence the
science of self-knowledge, and plant your foot on the first step of the ladder.
A.B.—The disciple must observe the working of sensation in himself, so that he
may gain some self-knowledge from it. He can attain to such knowledge only by
the deliberate study of his own thoughts. The first effect of trying to study
your -own thoughts is to stand away from them, to separate them from yourself.
The very fact of your studying them has drawn your life away from them, so as to
destroy for the time being the identification of yourself with your thoughts
which habitually exists. A man does not identify himself with the object of his
study, with the thing at which he is looking. It is a saying among the followers
of Shankaracharya that subject and object can never be the same. So the very
effort of study weakens the forms and in that mere act you are gaining freedom.
Closely allied to this advice is the instruction to test experiences, the object
being that the man may experience the condition of being no longer affected by
them. When a man is observing his own sensation, in order to learn from it, he
may experience that sensation, but at the same time he may do with it something
higher—he may measure this force without yeilding to it. There
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will come times too, when the disciple who is practising this observation of
sensations will find that dormant sensations in himself are being re-awakened.
All of us have reminiscences of the past, which may be said to hang about us as
our dead selves, and are liable to be revivified from outside. They may come to
life again by contact with other men's thought-forms along the same lines, or
they may be awakened by the deliberate action of some power which is working for
our purification, or is testing us either from the dark or the white side.
Suppose a man has that dead self vivified; he will then feel what is usually
called the force of temptation. The disciple, having studied the way in which
these things work, recognizes what has happened; he measures the power of the
resuscitated thought and says to it: '' You are not my living Self; you are
merely my ' I ' of the past—so get away from me."
Sometimes in a moment of temptation it is helpful to recognize that it is merely
your past that has been revivified, and then you are right to say: " This is not
I." Then you look on it as outside yourself, as no part of your being or
activity, and you know that it cannot hold you or stain you.1 The patient
confidence that arises from this knowledge has a great element of strength in
it. You know that you are drawing nearer the time when you will not even feel
this temptation. Presently it will not have the power to affect you at all.
In the deliberate process of weighing, measuring, and observing his own past
feelings and thoughts, the disciple
1 Ante., Vol. II, p. 154, 315.
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is killing the very last possibility of life in that dead self. The Voice of the
Silence means this, when it says with regard to desire: " Take heed lest from
the dead it should again arise." The old feelings and thoughts are done with,
not when they are merely buried out of sight, but when the very last fragment of
them is worked out to the end, when the man looks at them and sees with perfect
clearness just what they are and that they are no part of himself. In this quiet
study he then kills them beyond all possibility of recall to life.
C.W.L.—We have first to learn to observe the working of sensation in ourselves
from outside. So long as We are being swept away by it we cannot learn anything
from it, because we are then slaves to it, but if we can rise and look down upon
it, and think of it as something belonging to our past we are then in a position
to observe and study it.
Waves of sensation are flowing all over the world and we have to learn to
understand them so as to be able to help others, but of course we can do that
only when we are no longer swayed by them. Doubtless it is largely a matter of
temperament, but for many it is one of the greatest difficulties that sensations
and emotions swirl about them, and as yet they do not understand fully how to
control them. It is like standing in the breakers and trying to master them. A
man cannot govern a thing which knocks him over again and again and sweeps him
away; but people do not realize that emotion is really not an external force
like that, but that it is within
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oneself and may be brought perfectly within one's control if one understands how
to do it.
The way is to get a firm grip on it in the very beginning. A wave of anger,
depression, jealousy, or any of these passions will start in a moment and grow
rapidly into a very big thing. It comes up so suddenly and people are so
accustomed to regard it as the self that they do not for the moment recognize
it, and so do not at once pull up and stop it, and say: " This is not I; I
decline to be swept away; I stand firm." If we remember to do that in time the
emotion disappears promptly. Most people make the resolve not to be overcome
when they are quite calm, but unfortunately when the wave of sensation arrives
with' a rush upon them they do not at the moment want to resist it. The soul
inside is not immediately awake to the danger, so it allows itself to be swept
away and to be identified with the emotion or sensation. We must therefore learn
to catch it exactly at the moment of its coming, for if we let that slip it is a
very difficult matter, when the sensation is in full blast, to check it
suddenly, though sometimes another person can do it for us. Afterwards, when we
remember, we regret it. The practical thing to do is to try to control the
sensation each time a little sooner, and if we can suppress it once before it
gets into its swing, the probability is that we shall be able to do so
invariably after that.
It is difficult at first only because the man as a Self has abdicated his rights
on so many previous occasions that he has got out of the habit of asserting
them. But
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if he will once assert them at the critical moment he will find that he can do
it again and again, because the elemental that is the cause of the difficulty
will begin to be afraid, will begin to realize that he cannot sweep everything
before him. At first he is quite confident, like a dog that rushes at a man,
barking and snarling because he thinks him to be afraid; but if the man does not
turn and run away the dog hesitates and begins to be a little doubtful about the
enterprise. The elemental has not the intelligence of a dog. He may or may not
know that we are stronger than he, but if he does not, it is only because we
have not asserted ourselves. We should let him know that we are his master; when
once he feels that, he will hesitate at the very beginning to start his wave.
Check him at the beginning, and there will be no further trouble.
We have to learn from sensation by observing it in others also. In this way we
come to understand human nature. We can see how other people make fools of
themselves under the influence of emotion, and seeing how bad it looks in them,
and how much harm it obviously does them, we learn to repress any touch of the
same thing in ourselves. It is naturally much easier to see things in others
than in ourselves, when we are standing outside as spectators. We should not,
however, look at other people in order to criticize them and pick out their
faults, but only to see what we can learn from them. When we see them distinctly
not living up to their best and highest, because of some passion or emotion or
some feeling of repugnance, we
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can make a mental note of that, without feeling in the least that we are better
than they, and we can think: " Might not the same thing have happened to me? Let
me see that it shall not happen." Thus without getting into the habit of
criticizing, which is always bad, we can learn from the mistakes of other
people. When we see another person come to grief, however sorry we may be for
him, there can be no harm in thinking: " Let me not fall over the precipice too;
it is enough that one person has done so."
Great waves of sensation flooded the world during the war. Among them was a
tremendous amount of repugnance and hatred against the powers with whom we
happened to be at war. I am not in the least meaning to defend the atrocities
committed by those powers. I know that they occurred, because I have myself,
astrally, seen a very great deal of them, that filled me with shame for
humanity. I do not for a moment wish to deny those facts, to gloss them over, or
to excuse them. But there was also great danger and harm in the strong rush of
feeling against those who committed the crimes. The people responsible for the
atrocities were those who committed them, and the individuals by whose orders
they were done—not the whole nation. Assuredly a great many things were done by
Englishmen in the past with which we should not like to identify ourselves —and
that has been the same in every nation. We must not let ourselves be carried
away into injustice in thought any more than into injustice of speech or of
action.
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Our enemies intentionally went to work deliberately to stir up hatred against
us. That may, perhaps, have been effective for the time, as one of the tricks of
the campaign. They may have found that it paid in getting recruits and money,
and so on; but it was a serious moral mistake. By it they put themselves quite
con-clusively in the wrong, as far as all higher aspects of the matter were
concerned. But there is danger in such a case lest we should feel hatred too.
One has to be absolutely determined in the fight against evil, to carry it
through to the uttermost, and yet be entirely free from anything like a thought
of hatred. Remember how the Lord Buddha said: " Hatred never ceaseth by hatred."
On the contrary, it is always stirred up by it.
When one hears of terrible atrocities perpetrated upon women and children, one
cannot but feel intense indignation. There is no harm in feeling indignant
against such evil-doing. It is a terrible thing, and all right-minded people
will and should denounce it decidedly, without any sort of palliation or excuse;
but it would be a great mistake to hate the unfortunate man who commits the
crimes. He is to be pitied much more than blamed. It is not our business to
blame him, but it is our duty to make it impossible for him to do these things
again. Our attitude should be that which a man would take towards some wild
beast that is attacking his children. He would not dignify it by hating it, but
he would put it out of the way. We should be exceedingly sorry for the
unfortunate people who did such things, because we see what the karma of it must
be.
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It is a terrible thing that women and children should be massacred, more
terrible, perhaps, for the relations than for the victims themselves, but it is
worst of all for those who commit the crime; it is they who are most to be
pitied, because their suffering in the end will be very far more terrible.
As far as lies in our power we will take steps to prevent what has been done
from being done again, but we must have no sense of hatred. It is a case of
noblesse oblige. We stand quite infinitely above the sort of person who does
that kind of thing; we are ages past him in evolution and development; we stand
as far removed from him as he stands from the animal kingdom, and since that is
so we ought to show our higher development by not sharing that passion of
hatred.
We can study the effects of sensation only if we dissociate ourselves from it,
if we stand outside and try to control the feeling and to learn from it. We must
not be swept away in any such maelstrom of popular feeling, but we must try to
see where it is wrong, and do what we can to put it right. Many people, who are
under the influence of that sensation of tremendous passion, think of us as
rather apathetic, and cold; it is even possible that they sometimes think of us
as lacking in patriotism if we refuse to hate. Of course that is not logical,
but then people are not logical when under the influence of these great waves of
hatred. We can explain to them that patriotism does not call on one to hate
other countries, but they sometimes do not see that we can love our own country
without being obliged to hate another.
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Our attitude towards these things is very much that which we should take towards
the troubles of little children. A child breaks a doll and is in a tempest of
tears and a passion of regret over it; we do all we can to sympathize with that
child, but we are quite philosophical, we do not share the passion of regret. We
are not in despair because a doll is broken or because this or that small matter
may have happened in the school-life of the child. We realize that there is a
future, and that as compared to that future all these little matters are only
temporary and not of great importance, although they are tremendously so to the
child. We should be failing in our duty if we did not give the sympathy, but we
should be foolish if we felt as much as that child felt—we should ourselves be
acting in a childish manner.
It is exactly the same with the man who is learning to adopt a philosophical
attitude. He sympathizes with the people who are so passionately upset over
these things, but he himself is not disturbed. Just as one says to the child: "
Oh, well, never mind, it will be all right by and by," so we should like to say
to those who are surging under these emotions: " If you would only believe it,
everything will come right and all will go well." If we say that, we are
considered unsympathetic, but it is absolutely true. We often find it difficult
to avoid wonder as to how people can be so blind, We see them surging wildly
about things that do not matter in the least. They are often people with
splendid possibilities, but they do not see them, and they allow themselves to
be overwhelmed by mad surges of desire. We
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did. the same thing ourselves thousands of years ago, perhaps. Therefore we
learn to be patient, understanding that it is a stage in evolution, though a
very undesirable stage. So those of us who are still in danger of yielding to
emotions of that sort must pull ourselves up and say: "Twenty lives ago this was
perhaps excusable, but now, the time for it is past." If in every-day life we
see a man of mature age throwing away all his time in pleasure we know that that
may have been all very well twenty years ago, but now he ought to be thinking
about the more serious things of life. In the same way we ought to have risen to
a level where our emotions are the higher emotions, where we have the one great
idea of the work that God wills us to do.
7. Kill oat the hunger for growth.
Grow as the flower grows, unconsciously, but eagerly anxious to open its soul to
the air. So must you press forward to open your soul to the Eternal. But it must
be the Eternal that draws forth your strength and beauty, not desire of growth.
For in the one case you develop in the luxuriance of purity; in the other you
harden by the forcible passion for personal stature.
A.B.—In the later stage of growth the disciple will feel himself opening out
into the Eternal and realizing its beauty more and more. The wish to grow that
he may be greater than his brother then becomes impossible for him. Before that
stage is reached he is still in danger, because of the greatness of what he has
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already achieved. If he thinks of his growth as belonging to the separated self,
and feels that he is himself becoming great, he is likely to fall. The only way
to avoid that danger is to get rid of the wish to be great, to yield not to the
desire for growth for one's own sake. For when he is on the higher plane of
human growth the disciple must be indifferent as to whether he grows or not, but
must care only for the divine Life and the divine Will, and think only of the
joy that that can bring to all who welcome it into their lives.
C.W.L.—We are to grow as the flower grows. Why? Because the flower grows
unselfishly, absolutely altruistically. It grows not to display itself, but in
order that its race may become greater by its death. It exists not for the sake
of obtaining fruit for itself, because the fruit does not come until the flower
is dead. Its entire growth is not for itself, but for other plants yet to come.
So it is not by thinking of ourselves, but by striving for the good of others
that we must press forward. The one great idea—that of helping in the work of
the Logos—must draw us on. We must work for the attainment of all virtues and
powers simply in order that we may be of more use in His service; by forgetting
ourselves in unselfish work we grow as part of the whole and so " develop in the
luxuriance of purity ".
CHAPTER 6 RULES 9 TO 12
C.W.L.—As far as we have gone in this book we have had the negative side of
things before us. We have been told to kill out certain desires, but now we come
to the positive side and learn what we may, and indeed must, desire. It may
strike us as curious that we should be told to desire anything. Those who have
studied the Indian books will remember that this is a point on which even the
Upanishads differ. One Upani-shad deprecates desire of all kinds; it argues that
even to desire the right must be avoided, because we must be absolutely without
any preference for this or for that. Another of those great scriptures directs
that we must have the desire for progress, and says that when all other desires
are conquered but the desire for the growth of the soul then there is for a man
no more possibility of grief. We can reconcile those two statements if we take
the first one to mean that if we have the desire to cooperate in even the higher
work of the world as a separate self, thinking of ourselves and of the great
things we can do, there is still a tinge of the idea of separation; but if we
are able to think of ourselves as a part of humanity
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and as earning our advance on behalf of the humanity of which we are a part, and
there is no longer any thought of self, then we have raised and purified our
desire into an aspiration which is altogether desirable.
9. Desire only that which is within you.
For within yon is the light of the world—the only light that can be shed upon
the Path. If you are unable to perceive it within you, it is useless to look for
it elsewhere.
The thought expressed in this comment is common to all religions, though they
put it in different ways. We get it in Christianity, but as a rule only the
Christian mystics seem to have understood it. We have it in the beautiful verse:
Though Christ a thousand times in Bethlehem be born, But not within thyself, thy
soul shall be forlorn; And on the cross of Calvary He hangeth but in vain,
Unless within thy heart it be set up again.
It is easy to see what that means. If a man does not believe in his own inherent
divinity there is no hope of progress for him, because he would then have
nothing within him on which he could work; nothing within which would lift him
to anything higher; but if he knows that there is within him the wonderful
Christ principle, then he recognizes that to unfold that divinity is only a
question of time, and that his share in the work is to bring his outer vehicles
into harmony, so that this inner glory may shine through. That is the meaning of
the words: " Christ in you the hope of glory." The hope that we have within us
is this divine spark; the man
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who refuses to believe he has that within him places an insuperable obstacle in
his own path, until he realizes his mistake.
It is indeed true that salvation can be gained only through the Christ—not a man
who lived and died, but the Christ principle within us.1 Within us is our
saviour. This is the true Christian doctrine, in support of which we might quote
many texts. All the ways in which the modern presentation of Christianity has—if
one may put it so—gone wrong and made itself ridiculous, arise from the
misunderstanding of that great idea. It should always be remembered that
Christianity started with the beautiful Gnostic philosophy, but the ignorant
among its followers refused to include in their scheme of religion anything
which was beyond their comprehension, or anything which took years of study to
learn. So they cast out the great Gnostic doctors as heretics. They applied to
religion that unwise method of coming to a decision, the majority vote, with
dire results.
Originally Christianity had a most beautiful statement of philosophy—the one
philosophy that lies behind all religions. When the Gospel story, which was
meant as an allegory, was degraded into a pseudo-historical account of the life
of a man the religion became incomprehensible. Consequently all the texts which
really refer to this higher side of things have been distorted, and of course,
they will not fit in with the truth which lies behind the idea. Because
Christianity has forgotten much of its own original teaching, in these days it
is
1 Ante., Vol. I, Part I, Ch.. 4: The Preliminary Prayer.
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customary to deny that it could ever have possessed any esoteric teaching. There
is, however, sufficient evidence to convince the unprejudiced student that this
higher knowledge did exist and was well known to the apostles and Church
fathers. I cannot go fully into that at present; suffice it to remind the reader
that Origen, the greatest of the Church fathers, asserts the existence of this
secret teaching. He draws a distinction between " popular irrational faith "
which leads to what he calls "somatic Christianity," and the "spiritual
Christianity." By " somatic Christianity " he means that faith which is based on
the Gospel history, and adds that it is a very good teaching for the masses, but
that the spiritual Christian has the Gnosis, and therefore understands that all
the incidents related therein—the birth, the baptism, the illumination, the
crucifixion, the resurrection, and the ascension—happened not once only in one
place, but are steps in the spiritual life of every Christian man as he
progresses.1
Modern orthodoxy still bases its beliefs on the ignorant faith of the
undeveloped multitude, and persists in disowning what now remains of its once
magnificent heritage, in the shape of a few priceless fragments of the Gnostic
teaching. Having lost the higher interpretation it makes a desperate effort to
present the lower one in a comprehensible form, but that cannot be done.
Students of Theosophy have the knowledge which enables them to interpret all
these strange doctrines, and to see sense and beauty even in
1 See ante., Vol. I, Part V, Ch. 5: Superstition.
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the crude utterances of the street preacher, because they understand what he
would mean if only he knew a little more about his subject.
So what we are to desire is that which is within ourselves all the time; we
shall not find it elsewhere. This very same idea was presented to us long ages
ago in ancient Egypt. There they centred all their ideas of religion in " the
hidden light " and "the hidden work ".l " The hidden light " was the Light that
is in every man, and " the hidden work " was that which would enable him to
manifest it, to bring it out in himself and then to help its development in
others. That was the cardinal point of their creed—that the Light is there,
however much it may be overlaid: and however hopeless it may appear, our work is
to withdraw the veils and let the Light shine forth.
People often make the mistake of looking for it elsewhere. They say: " We want
the Masters to help us; we want the Masters to raise us." But I say, with the
greatest reverence and respect, the Master cannot do that, the Logos Himself
cannot do it. The Master can tell us how we may raise ourselves. The process is
exactly analogous to the development of strength in the muscles. No one can do
that for another, but if he has the knowledge he can tell how to do it for
himself, and that is all the help one can have from outside. Another person can
tell us that he followed certain rules and exercises and found that they brought
good results. The Master or the advanced pupil can
1 Ante., Vol. I, Part V, Ch. 6: Service.
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also undoubtedly pour upon us force which makes our work easier, but that is
all. It is the same all the way through. If we do not feel within us the power
to respond to the beauty and glory of nature, that beauty and glory will pass us
by. If we cannot see God within ourselves, it is useless to look for Him
outside. When we have realized ourselves as part of Him, then will the God
within respond to the God without, and we shall begin to be really useful in His
work, which, after all, is our chief object in life.
10. Desire only that which is beyond you.
It is beyond you, because when yon reach it you have lost yourself.
C.W.L.—That again is a statement which has its parallel in the Christian
teaching. Christ Himself says quite plainly: " He that findeth his life shall
lose it: and he that loseth his life for my sake shall find it." 1 That happens
over and over again at various stages. Consider the man of the world living his
ordinary life, which is very largely a life in his emotions—in some cases in
quite the lower emotions. As soon as he begins to understand the higher side of
things he realizes that there is something higher and nobler than that. But he
finds also that unless he is willing to put aside that lower and coarser life,
he cannot really grasp the higher; he must lose the lower in order that he may
gain the higher.
At the next step the man comes to live in his mind to a large extent. He
realizes that to be swept about by
1 S. Matthew, 10, 39.
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tides of passion is, after all, ignoble, and that the mind should select and
dominate the emotions and allow only such as it approves, for the sake of
progress. Presently he gets beyond that, and finds that the mind also is not
fully satisfactory, but that there is a higher life than that of the mind. So
gradually he begins to live in the ego, and to look at everything from that
standpoint, which is a very great advance. But eventually even that is not
enough for him. He realizes that there is a unity which lies beyond that stage,
and so he begins to have some experience of the buddhic plane, and when he
touches that nothing below it will ever again satisfy him.
Even that wonderful buddhic consciousness will, in its turn, be transcended.
Beyond it is the consciousness of the atmic plane—nirvana. Above and beyond that
again is the Monad. Those who are not yet Adepts see the Monad manifesting as a
triple spirit on the plane below its own, but on the attainment of Adeptship the
Monad and the ego will have become one, and they will be conscious as the Monad-
the Divine Spark.
At each of these stages we feel that we have grasped the truth, and entered upon
the real life, but presently we realize that there is something still higher, as
high again as that was beyond our previous experience. All the way up we have to
drop the lower before we can really gain the higher. That is to say, we have to
lose the life we know before we can reach the higher life which we hope to
attain. At each stage, as we reach it, we find that we have lost the self which
we have known
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previously, because we have transcended it. We have lost it in finding a
higher self.
It is written in the books that we become one with the Logos, merged in Him.
Now, that final result we know nothing of, but this much some of us can say from
our own personal experience, that many such mergings at different levels take
place in the progress of the soul, and in each of them it seems that we become
utterly one with the highest which then we can reach, yet never through all that
do we lose anything of our true Self. When we rise, let us say, into the buddhic
consciousness, and lose the causal body, we have lost the lower life, but that
was never more than a very inadequate manifestation of a small part of us. All
that we have gained through the. long series of lives is still there. What we
have shed is only the outer form in which our various qualities expressed
themselves. We have the qualities still, on a higher level, shining forth with
greater brilliancy, but the form in which they were cast has gone. Because
people so constantly identify the life with the form, to many it seems that
should they lose that form there would be nothing left. On the contrary, nothing
that has been gained is ever lost.
11. Desire only that which is unattainable.
It is unattainable, because it for ever recedes. You will enter the light, but
you will never touch the Flame.
C.W.L.—This does not mean that the higher life at which we aim is unattainable,
but that when we have
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reached one height we always see another peak beyond. We shall draw ever nearer
and nearer to the Divine, becoming one with Him at level after level, but the
Flame, His true consciousness, we shall never touch. There are many stages on
the way, and they grow more and more indescribable in their beauty as we rise.
To whatever height we raise our consciousness, into whatever ineffable glories
we can rise, we always see something more glorious still beyond. The Flame ever
recedes. So far as any knowledge that we have goes, that chain of increasing
glory and beauty is endless. Perhaps it is not much use speculating upon that.
The Lord Buddha said long ago that it was profitless to speak of the beginning
and the end, because " Veil after veil will lift, but there must be veil after
veil behind."
I wish I could bring home to every one, as utterly and as vividly as I myself
feel it, this absolute certainty of the progress that lies ahead, of its
wonderful glory and beauty and power and wisdom and love, how from step to step
it rises and becomes ever more and more indescribable down here, and more and
more glorious and beautiful and true above. The road to it lies through
unselfishness. Only when we rise out of the lower self into the higher life,
into the wider universal Self does the way open, and there is no limit to the
glory and the splendour which man may then attain.
CHAPTER 7 RULES 13 TO 16
13. Desire power ardently.
C. W. L—The comment of the Chohan on this is:
And that power which the disciple shall coret is that which shall make him
appear as nothing in the eyes of men.
The power that makes us appear as nothing in the eyes of men is the power of
self-effacement in the work —of doing it without wanting any credit for it. Many
people want to be in the forefront. That is often regarded as merely a sort of
harmless vanity, but it means that they have not yet forgotten the lower self.
The disciple does not seek credit for anything he does; he seeks to get the work
done and so long as it is done he cares not at all whether he or somebody else
has the credit for having done it. If he has to put himself forward and draw
people round him he does so, but not because he wants the credit of it. He knows
it is always far better to keep in the background if possible.
It is always best not to think of results at all, but to do the best we can and
forget ourselves. All occult teaching leads back to that one fundamental
fact—forget
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the lower self and get to work. Some people are constantly thinking of their own
\ progress. It is at least better to think of making spiritual progress than to
desire worldly wealth, but it is still selfishness, only in a more refined form.
My own experience would lead me to say that the very best way to get on is to
forget all about one's own progress and simply devote oneself to the Master's
work.1 If one does that the rest will follow. It is the old truth stated in the
Gospel: " Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and His righteousness; and all these
things shall be added unto you." 2 That is utterly true; these other things
come. When we are not looking for progress we suddenly find that we have really
made some, and that also is well. When a man first sees what life in the causal
body is really like he also realizes how very useful he could be at that level,
how many lines there are along which his activity could pour itself out, and he
may well be disposed to ask: " Is it not better that I should do this new and
splendid work which I see opening before me? " I have myself made a practice of
seeking the advice or wish of the Master whenever what seemed to be grand
opportunities opened up, and yet there was a possibility that it might be even
better still to renounce them. I would say: " Master, what do you wish me to do?
" Often his reply would be: " It is a matter for you to decide." Then one can
only use one's own best judgment. No rule can be laid down in such cases. I
should
1 Ante., Vol. I, Part III, Ch. 2: The One Good Desire, Vol. II, pp. 360-1.
• S. Matthew, 6, 33.
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still be disposed to try the higher; but it must be remembered that we are
cautioned again and again: " Do not let desire for your own development stand in
the way of any useful work that you can do. Your development will come in due
course." I have always followed that plan, and I think that it is the safest
attitude.
Through the work done in that spirit of self-forgetful-ness we gain the power
which shall make us appear as nothing in the eyes of men. Let us, if necessary,
welcome humiliation because it all helps to put the personality out of sight and
that is what is most needed. When opportunities come, we must take them, but
always we should think: " It is not my work; it is the Master's work." It does
not matter which of those who follow the Master has the privilege of doing any
particular piece of work for him. Our business is to watch that we may lose no
opportunity of doing any part of his work.
We should understand that there is nothing small or great in his work, but that
anything, however small, done and offered to him is as important in his sight as
that which is a far greater achievement in the world's eyes. We are a little apt
to want to do what we think is the greater work. That is because we do not see
that all parts of the work are equally necessary. Realize for a moment how he
must look down upon the whole from his stupendous elevation of wider power and
knowledge. All these pieces of work will look very tiny, but all fit into their
places.
All the problems of life which seem complex, if not incomprehensible, down here,
become far simpler when
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looked at from a higher plane. The same thing is true of much lower levels. When
one examines microscopic creatures such as live in a drop of water one finds
complex and beautiful forms of life. The further one goes into these infinitely
small matters the more one discovers their amazing complexity. One wonders how
even to the Deity Himself these worlds could possibly be a simple thing, and yet
they are, for when we look from even such higher points of view as we are able
to gain, we can see that it is the permutations and combinations of the seven
forces of the One Life which produce all these wonderful results. The factors
involved in the production are few and simple; therefore the higher one rises
the more one can understand, and that which down here seems impossible to grasp
proves quite within reach when viewed from higher levels.
We may reverently and reasonably assume, I think, that the Logos can hold the
whole of His system simultaneously in His mind, and without any difficulty see
what is being done in every remotest ramification of it. The whole system in all
its multiplicity must be immediately self-evident—something one could put down
on a sheet of foolscap, as it were. To the Manu and Bodhisattva the work of
moulding and guiding the races of men, which seems to us so complex and even
confused, must be quite clear and straightforward.
Our business is to serve the Master in our small sphere. The detail is our care,
not his. What he wants is that the whole work shall go well, and anything that
we can do to make it do so is our share in
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it. Those who stand nearer to him in thought and have by such association grown
somewhat into his attitude in regard to it, are always eager to do anything,
however simple, which may seem of use. We can write a little letter, perhaps,
which will change the current of a man's life, or we may deliver a lecture and
try to change the opinion of some hundreds of people, and not succeed; the
little letter is just as real a piece of work. There may be some of us who are
so busy that we cannot do anything personally. In that case we are probably
earning money, and so perhaps we could give some money to enable others to do
that work. There are a great many little ways in which every one can work. It is
no use waiting for a big opportunity with the idea that when it comes we shall
be ready to take it. We are very much more likely to be ready if we get
ourselves into the habit of always doing the little things that we can do now.
A man who works without any regard to his own interests and is always willing to
remain in the background is inevitably misunderstood by the world. People
understand and admire a man of strong will, who sets out to make a name for
himself, to make an impression, and pushes his way to the front. Such a man has
succeeded, from their point of view; he has shown the world that he is a strong
man. The occultist may be in reality much more forceful, but he would not show
his power in that way. He seeks generally to efface himself. He realizes that
one of the greatest qualifications is to know when to get out of the way, to
know when to let the divine power do its work without spoiling and hindering
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it by putting himself in the way of ,it. It seems so simple, and yet the fact
that there are hundreds of workers who cannot do it shows that it is really a
great difficulty.
The man of the world is apt to regard the occultist as a person of no particular
will-power, as one who is always ready to give way. So he is, as regards the
minor details of life. He lets others have their way in things which do not
matter, and is even willing to be managed up to a certain point; but when it
comes to a question of principle, he takes a firm stand. He cares nothing about
what people say. People who talk and speculate about others are wrong in nine
cases out of ten, so what does it matter what they happen to think about us ? As
Tennyson says, " Let them rave." Of course, I do not mean that we should utterly
ignore all worldly conventions. In the early days some of our members felt that
it was right to appear different from other people in the matter of \wearing
evening dress, and so on. We need not outrage the customs of society in this
way. Moreover, it seems to me that if we wish to recommend our beliefs we must
avoid offending the world unnecessarily. It is not good policy to set ourselves
violently against other people's ideas. When there comes a point in which no
principle is involved we must give way, merely because there is no sense in
flying in the face of the usages of the world.
In all matters of principle we must take a firm stand. For example, strict
vegetarianism is with us a principle, because we believe it to be best in every
way, not only
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for ourselves but for all the world around us. It is a little inconvenient when
we go out to dinner or when we are travelling, but we let such trifling
inconveniences pass, and keep to our own point of view. But in a vast number of
other things, which really do not matter, it saves trouble to yield to the
ordinary customs of the time. As regards our dress—to take another instance. The
dress of modern man is peculiarly ugly, uncomfortable and unhealthy, but it
saves trouble to adopt it. If we set ourselves against it, however much more
rational, aesthetic and beautiful our costume might be, we should attract
unwelcome attention, and should probably be regarded as more or less insane. It
is not worth while. It is better not to make ourselves unduly conspicuous by
opposing things which do not matter. But when a principle is involved we must
hold steadily to what we think is right.1
If we could get into an absolutely impersonal attitude about all work it would
help us very much. Ruskin speaks of that with regard to art; he says that while
self-praise and conceit are vulgar beyond words, undue self-depreciation is only
another form of vulgarity. We should aim at the condition of mind in which we
are able to view the work from the outside, and to say: " Be it mine or yours,
or whose else it may, this also is well." We must be able to praise a good piece
of work when we see it, not because it is ours or our friends', or because it
bears a great name, but just because it is good, putting aside absolutely the
question of who did it. I 1 Ante., Vol. I, Part II, Ch. 3: Right and Wrong.
167
am afraid we do not always do this. Our reason for quoting something is not
always because it is fine and beautiful, but because Madame Blavatsky said it or
Dr. Besant wrote it.
There is, however, a side to that which is quite right and true. When people
meet with a statement about something which they do not know and cannot verify
for themselves, it is a matter of importance to them who said it. They may say:
" Dr. Besant makes this statement; I have great reason to believe that she knows
all about this matter, consequently I accept her statement." After all, that is
no more than we do in regard to science. There are many facts in science which
we have no means of proving for ourselves, but because certain eminent men have
investigated these subjects and have come to certain conclusions we accept them.
But when we consider a beautiful ethical statement, it does not matter whether
it comes from the Bible or the Bhagavad-Gita, the Koran or the Vedas; we should
accept it for its worth. It is then a question of the felicity of the expression
and the beauty of the idea.
Just as we accept things, or try to do so, for what they are worth, so we must
try to value our own work at what it is worth, and not think that, because we
have done it, it must necessarily be well done. Most men who can do anything
very well know also the imperfections of their work. When a thing is good we
should gladly admit that it is so; when we see faults in our own or in anyone
else's work we should not hesitate to say: " I do
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not agree; I think so-and-so might be better done." It is well to get into the
attitude of mind that does not care whence a thing comes if it is a good thing,
and also does not hesitate to put aside the evil, even when it comes from
oneself.
That is difficult, truly, because when that is perfectly done it means that the
man is looking down from the ego upon this lower world. Even the use of the
lower mind will give much of that power, although we get it perfectly only in
the causal body. The lower mind can exercise discrimination, and if we use it
from the higher standpoint and do not allow it to be clouded by personal
feeling, it is a very fine and beautiful thing when fully developed. We are
rather proud of our intellectual development in this fifth sub-race of the fifth
root race, which emphasizes this discriminating work of the lower mind, but what
we call intellect is only a very small thing as compared with that which is to
develop in the course of the next round, which will be that really devoted to
intellect. We are proud of the achievments of the lower mind, and not without a
certain amount of reason; it has done wonderful work in science and invention.
But only those who are able to look forward into the future and have also seen
the Masters, who are men of the future, realize what we shall be perhaps in the
course of a few thousands of years. I can bear witness that our highest
intellectual activity now is but child's play compared to what it will be in the
future, so it is clear that there is a splendid vista opening before us.
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What the ordinary person calls his mind is exclusively the lowest part of it. In
his mind there are four subdivisions, consisting of matter of the seventh,
sixth, fifth and fourth sub-planes of the mental plane respectively, but
practically he is using matter of the lowest or seventh sub-plane only. That is
very near to the astral plane; therefore all his thoughts are coloured by
reflections from the astral world, and so they are much mixed with emotion,
feelings and desires. Very few people can deal with the sixth sub-plane as yet.
Our great scientific men certainly use it a good deal, but unfortunately they
often mingle with it the matter of the lowest sub-plane and then they become
jealous of other people's discoveries and inventions. If they can rise to the
fifth sub-plane they are already getting much more free from the possibility of
astral entanglement. If they can raise themselves to the fourth sub-plane, which
is the highest part of the mental body, they are then in the very middle of the
mental plane, and next to them is the causal body. They are then far away from
the possibility of having their thoughts affected by astral vibrations.
We can understand how these things work. A vibration is most easily received by
that which is in tune with it. If a man feels very angry he is liable to stir up
the emotion of anger in the astral bodies of other people around him. That will
also disturb their lower thought; but it will not affect their higher thought,
if they have any—most people have not as yet. One of the things we as students
are trying to do in our thought and meditation is to awaken the higher parts of
the mental body
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and bring them into working order. Those who meditate regularly on the Masters
and on the things connected with them, must be using the higher part of the
mental body to some extent, and the more it is used, the more will our thought
be unaffected by desires, passions and emotions. But since most people do not
get so far as that, the great mass of thought in the world is very much coloured
by desire, and most thought-forms that we see are loaded with astral as well as
with mental matter.
We all live much too close together, with the consequence that even while other
people may not be thinking of us they affect us. Of course we in turn affect
them, and we should always definitely try to affect them for good. If we set
ourselves to be a centre of uttermost peace and love we shall very greatly help
all those around us, but while we are centres of desire and emotion and selfish
feeling we make development impossible not only for ourselves but for all those
near to us, and that is a very serious matter. Every aspirant ought to take to
heart the fact that he is preventing the progress of others if he gives way to
this personal desire.
The power of self-effacement is impossible of attainment until we have utterly
weeded out all personal desire. We talk of our devotion to our work and to the
Masters; surely that is not too much to do for their sake. Even if a very great
effort is necessary we ought to be willing to make it for the sake of these
Great Ones who have done so much for us, through whom all the Theosophical
teaching has come to us. It is not a question of affording them gratification by
doing these things—though surely
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they cannot but be pleased to see the progress of those whom They are trying to
help—but it is also common sense. If we want to help in evolution, the first and
most necessary thing to do is to take ourselves in hand. We must gain that
control over the lower self which makes us appear as nothing in the eyes of men.
Be it so; many of the great forces are working unseen. We may be among those
forces, as such we can afford to appear insignificant in the sight of the world.
14. Desire peace fervently.
The peace you shall desire is that sacred peace which nothing can disturb, and
in which the soul grows as does the holy flower upon the still lagoons.
C.W.L.—This short aphorism is closely connected with the foregoing one. The
power which we are told to desire leads to peace; unless we have power over self
we can have no peace.
Only when we have gained peace can we give it to others; to be able to do that
is surely one of the greatest and most beautiful of powers. Most people's lives
are full of worry and anxiety, of jealousy and envy. All the time they are just
a swirl not only of emotions, but also of unsatisfied desires. Many of those who
take up the study of occultism, that is the study of the reality which lies
behind, still expect to be able to go on living that kind of life. Even some of
those who are supposed to have been students of occultism for years, and are
trying to draw nearer to the Masters, apparently cannot yet give
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up their desires. They make no serious attempt to get rid of all their foolish
and disturbing emotions, and then they wonder why they do not make progress and
why others seem to pass on in front of them. How can they expect to advance
until they have left all these things behind them? Until we are quite free from
such disturbances it is absolutely impossible to make any real higher progress.
If we want to set up communications with the Master, we must have perfect peace
within.
It is said that struggle is a necessity for progress. It is certainly true that
there is a long stage in the evolution of the soul when it is in a constant
state of struggle and strife. On looking back into the past we can see that
progress was then more rapid in a life of storm and stress than when the
conditions were easier. In that rough-hewing of the character all the troubles
and difficulties which men encounter and the opposition which comes in their way
no doubt teach them something; they learn their lessons from them. But at the
higher stage at which the disciple has arrived that state of struggle is no
longer of value. For growth of the higher kind, perfect peace is necessary. A
Master once wrote: " The law of the survival of the fittest is the law for the
evolution of the brute; but the law of sacrifice is the law of the evolution of
man." Many people think they will get peace when their mad desires are
satisfied, but they find by experience that it is not so. They then begin to
think what a sad thing it is that they have yielded to them, and they realize
that they ought to have risen above them. There is no peace to be gained by the
satisfaction
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of desire. Peace is to be attained in one way only: by putting aside the lower
desires and developing the power which makes us " as nothing in the eyes of
men."
It is said here that the holy flower grows upon the still lagoons. It is only in
still water that the lotus can unfold itself to its best; it cannot do so if it
is buffeted about by wind and storm. It is only in peace that the soul can
unfold. Storms of passion and desire are just like storms that beat down the
flowers on the physical plane. All developments of the higher kind are like very
delicate flowers, and if they are subjected to violent storms of passion they
become crushed out, and disappear. People who are always in royal rages, who
constantly brood over all kinds of foolish personal matters, who are always
thinking about their own feelings and are filled with jealousy and envy of
others, cannot develop all the fine and delicate fronds and tendrils that mean
progress.
People in general have very little scientific idea of what occult progress, real
evolution, means. Their methods of education alone show that they do not
understand it. There is a certain amount of the evolution through which we have
gone—up to about the level of the savage and a little higher than that—which we
may consider as fairly definitely established; that is to say, we could not very
well fall back below that point under any circumstances. But the growth that
comes beyond that—beyond the almost animal part, or at any rate the lower and
emotional part, of man—is a question of exceedingly delicate development of many
sorts. The
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things which differentiate the highly cultured and artistic person from the
quite coarse and undeveloped person are all of a very subtle nature—matters of
long and slow and careful growth; they are tender shoots of great promise, which
have hardly as yet blossomed forth, and have certainly not yet reached what they
shall be in the future. The first blast of unfavourable conditions destroys that
finer growth. The rough and tumble of modern education, in which children are
frightened and sometimes even ill-treated, has the effect of crushing out all
the delicate bloom of culture and refinement which souls that have come into
these child bodies may have been acquiring for a very long time past—perhaps for
twenty or thirty lives. In consequence the children become very much like
primitive savages. They are often full of fear and hatred and a great sense of
abiding injustice, and all the finer development which really marks the
difference between a later and an earlier sub-race is swept away.
People do not in the least realize what they are doing when they destroy these
things, as they so often do. I constantly see boys and girls who belong perhaps
to ordinary parents, but are themselves quite promising; if they were taken in
hand and brought along in the right way, they would make distinct progress in
this life. But their surroundings are utterly unsuited for such development and
all the finer growth is lopped off and beaten back, and they go through life as
quite ordinary people. I have seen cases where the same thing happened over and
over again in as many as perhaps fifteen or twenty
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lives; the progress that might have been made in the first case was not made
until the twentieth. Probably the accumulated karma of living a little better in
a quiet way in each of those lives made it necessary at last that the ego should
be given better surroundings, and then he got his opportunity. But so far as we
can see that same development could just as well have been made twenty lives
before, if only the environment had been a little better.
It is a sad thing for the people who repress those delicate touches. I suppose
there is no greater crime than the repression of those who are trying to make
progress. That is one of the things which the Christ meant when He spoke of the
sin against the Holy Ghost which should not be forgiven either in this world or
in the world to come. That word " forgiven " is, however, a mistranslation—" to
abandon", " to put aside", gives a better idea of the meaning. What is meant is
perfectly clear. The sin against the Holy Ghost is the repression of the divine
spirit in man; it produces a karmic result which could not be put right in this
dispensation— neither in this world-period, nor perhaps in the next, so serious
is it.
Many people commit this crime against themselves as well as against their
children. They do not give the higher part of themselves an opportunity to grow.
Children are often able to see nature-spirits and other beautiful things which
older people cannot see. There is no reason why the older people should not see
them j if their sensitiveness had not been destroyed by the
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sort of life into which they have so often been plunged. Sometimes later on in
life with great difficulty they begin to recover the power, not only of
clairvoyance, but also the power to appreciate all that is artistic and
beautiful, all the subtle shades of feeling and perception that mean culture and
real education.
The things which affect the higher progress are all exceedingly delicate—so
carefully, so exactly balanced, that the least touch in the wrong direction will
throw them back for weeks and months. It is possible to throw back the growth of
months in a single day. Therefore very much depends upon surroundings. One
cannot always calculate upon obtaining again the same surroundings, so the
occultist always strives to make the utmost use of whatever conditions he has at
any time, while he is also watchful that none of them shall drag him down. One
of the Puranas says:
Without a body no one attains the object of the soul; therefore should one take
care of his body as a treasure, and perform good deeds. A village or a field or
possessions or a house, or good and bad pieces of karma may be obtained
again—but this body never again.1
People sometimes say: " I cannot do much in this life; I shall try what I can do
in the next." It is always well to keep before us the idea of the next life and
what we can do in it, but it is not safe to depend too much on that, because the
karma behind each person is sure to be more or less mixed and it sometimes
asserts itself in waves. We may have karma at a certain time which will give us
good surroundings. It does not follow that
1 Garuda Pur ana Saroddhara, xvi, 17, 18.
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in the next life we shall have conditions equally good. On the whole the
probabilities are that our karma will flow on in much the same groove, but on
the other hand there might be a block of unpleasant karma which the karmic
authorities do not think the man strong enough to bear this time, and in the
next life they might let that loose upon him, so that he might not get such good
opportunities.
It is eminently wise to take all the opportunities available in this life. If we
do that, and thus show the Lords of Karma that we are taking advantage of them,
that will seriously influence the incidence of karma upon us in the next life.
It will constitute a sort of claim for good surroundings. It is not wise because
we have many opportunities in this life to assume that we shall have them again
in our next life. We may or we may not. I do not like to hear people say: " I am
too old to do anything in this life." If we make good use of what we have, and
advance ourselves as far as possible, we create a condition of affairs in which
it would be difficult for the karmic deities not to give us opportunities again;
we can make such karma along a particular line that we may take the kingdom of
heaven by storm—we can force the Lords of Karma to so arrange our Karma that the
opportunity must come because the causes we have set in motion cannot work
themselves out except along a similar line. Most assuredly it is well to make
full use of every good opportunity that comes to us, lest by chance by
neglecting it we might make a difference of a few thousand years in our
evolution.
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A few thousand years are as nothing in the long life of the soul, but we do not
want to be delayed in that way. In the Lives of Alcyone we find, for example,
the case of one young man who had remarkably good opportunities in connection
with one of the great Masters in a temple in Egypt.
He foolishly wasted his time, threw away his opportunities and lost them. The
Master said then that he would always be ready to take him again when he came
back. It is only in this life, six thousand years later, that he has come back.
That carelessness lost him a good deal of time. Think of what might have been
done in that six thousand years, if he had taken the offer. At that time the
Master who made it had not yet attained Adeptship. Certainly if the pupil had
accepted, he might have now been very far on the road to Adeptship himself. It
cannot be a matter of indifference whether a man takes such a step as that six
thousand years earlier or later. The man who took it so much earlier would have
all the work of intervening years on the very highest levels to his credit—it
seems impossible that it can be the same thing.
I do not know how far in the counsels of the Eternal what we call time matters.
There is a point of view to which one may rise in which past and present and
future all seem one eternal now, but even in that eternal now there are some
things which are more opened and others which are less opened, and therefore the
acceptance or the neglect of an opportunity must make a difference, though there
may be some
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way in which a mistake of that kind may be adjusted in the future, in which
somehow the man's regret that he did not succeed may be a force enabling him to
work doubly well to try to overtake the past. One can only guess at it, only
attempt to imagine how such a thing would work; but there is very distinct
reason to suppose that there will be a position in which the past can be
rectified.
It envisages itself on higher levels in a way something like this. We say the
past was so-and-so and we cannot alter it. That was how it was when we were at
it. How do we know what it is now that we have passed away from it ? That past
still exists; it is the present to someone else somewhere. That idea is
difficult to understand. On the physical plane, we know that we see an object;
we know of it by the light which comes from it. The light which showed us
something yesterday is now many millions of miles away, and it is now showing
that same thing far away; our yesterday may be the present for someone else as
far as the message of that light is concerned. Whether that analogy holds good I
do not know, but something like that seems to be true. The past is somehow
progressing.
Looking down from the higher plane on the life down here is something like
standing on a mountain and watching a railway train moving in the valley below.
The train has passed certain points as far as the people in it are concerned.
The points are passed, but they are still there. The trees and animals they saw
at those points are still alive. The past is still active, but because they
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are not in it any more most people imagine that their share in it is done with.
I am not sure of that. I do not think that it is very profitable to try to
understand that point, because one cannot make any coherent sense of it down
here. But I believe that the past is not irrevocable, and that when we in our
turn reach the stage where we can look down upon it all, it will appear very
much better than our present memory of it would indicate, because somehow all
that past also is moving onward as part of the divine reality of things, and
that also will become glorified and will blossom out into what it should have
been—I cannot pretend to say how. Still the idea is a stimulating one—the
possibility that the things which we have failed to do, the mistakes which we
have made, may not be so in the end, though they are so to us now. It is an idea
which is difficult to understand down here, but I am sure there is some truth
behind it.
15. Desire possessions above all.
But those possessions must belong to the pure soul only, and be possessed
therefore by all pure souls equally, and thus be the especial property of the
whole only when united. Hunger for such possessions as can be held by the pure
soul, that you may accumulate wealth for that united spirit of life which is
your only true Self.
C.W.L.—The possessions which we are to desire are qualities which shall be of
use to all humanity. Every victory we gain is to be gained for humanity, not for
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ourselves. The desire to possess must be one to possess with all others—a desire
that all shall share the same inheritance. That is the old story of
impersonality in another form. We see that beautifully illustrated in the lives
of the Masters. I remember long ago feeling considerable wonder as to how it
could be that the Masters appear without karma. They are even spoken of in some
of the sacred books of the East as having risen above karma. I could not
understand it, because karma is a law just as much as gravitation is. We might
rise as far as the sun itself, but we should not get beyond gravitation; on the
contrary we should feel it very much more strongly. It seemed to me just as
impossible to escape from the law of cause and effect, since under its operation
every person receives according to what he does. If the great Masters are all
the time doing good on a scale which we cannot in the least hope to equal, and
yet they make no karma, what then becomes of the stupendous result of all their
outpourings of energy ?
Presently, after studying the problem, we began to see how it worked. If I
describe what karma looks like clairvoyantly, it will perhaps help to make the
matter more intelligible. The appearance of the working of the law of karma on
higher planes is something as follows. Every man is the centre of an incredibly
vast series of concentric spheres—some of them quite near, others reaching to a
prodigious distance into the far empyrean. Every thought or word or action,
whether good or bad, selfish or unselfish, sends out a stream of force which
rushes towards the surfaces of these spheres.
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This force strikes the interior surface of one or other of the spheres at right
angles to it, and is reflected back to the point from which it came. From which
sphere it is reflected seems to depend upon the character of the force, and this
also regulates the time of its return. The force which is generated by some
actions strikes a sphere which is comparatively near at hand and flies back
again very quickly, while other forces rush on almost to infinity and return
only after many lives— why we cannot tell. All we know is that in any case they
inevitably return, and they can return nowhere but to the centre from which they
came forth.
All these forces thrown out from the man must recoil upon him so long as he
projects them from himself in that way. However, every man has an interior
connection with the Deity which is not through any of these concentric spheres,
but through the centre itself. By turning within he can reach the Logos himself,
and so long as he sends all the force of his thought and desire in that way, it
is not reflected back to him at all, but goes to reinforce the great outwelling
of divine power which the Deity is always sending through His universe, by which
He keeps it alive. His force wells up in the centre; it does not come from
without. If we look at a number of physical atoms clairvoyantly we shall see
some drawing in force and others pouring it out. They must receive that force
from somewhere. It does not go in at one side and out at the other; it wells up
in the centre apparently from nowhere but is in reality coming from some higher
dimension which we cannot see. Thus
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the communication with God lies in the very heart of things, and the man who
turns his eyes always upon the Deity, and thinks only of Him in the work that he
is doing, pours all his force along that line. It disappears so far as he is
concerned but, as I said before, goes to reinforce the divine strength which is
always being outpoured everywhere. There is no personal result for the man on
lower planes, but with every such effort he draws nearer to the divine Truth
within him —becomes a better and fuller expression of it and so it would not be
true to say that he obtains no result. In a universe of law nothing could be
without result, but there is no outward result such as would bring him back to
earth.
That, I think, is what is meant when it is said that the Great Ones escape from
the law of karma. They spend the whole of their mighty spiritual force upon
doing good in the name of humanity and as units of humanity, and so they escape
from the binding of the law. Whatever result there is comes to humanity, not to
them. The karma of all the glorious actions of the Master is not held back that
he may receive the result; it goes to humanity as a whole.
It is in that spirit of impersonality that we also should perform action. If we
do anything, even a good action, thinking: " I am doing this; I want the credit
of this," or even if we do not think of receiving the credit for it, but only
think: " I am doing this," like the Pharisees of old, we shall have our reward.
The result will come back to the personal self, and it will bind us back to
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earth just as surely as though it were an evil result. But if we have forgotten
the personal self altogether and are acting merely as part of humanity, it is to
the humanity of which each is a part that the result of the action will come.
The more truly we can act without thought of self the nearer we shall be drawing
to the divine heart of things. That is how the Logos himself looks upon
everything. There could be no thought of self for him; He acts always for the
good of the whole and as representing the whole. If we act thinking only of him,
then the result will flow out in his divine force and will not come to us as
anything that will bind, but rather as something which will make us a greater
and greater expression of him, and will raise us more and more into the peace of
God which passeth all understanding.
CHAPTER 8 RULES 17 TO 19
17. Seek out the way.
C.W.L.—The three short aphorisms to which we have now come are closely
intertwined, and both in the comment by the Chohan and the notes by the Master
Hilarion they are practically taken together. For this reason it is hardly
possible to arrange them in separate groups as has been done hitherto, and so I
shall take them in the order in which they appear in the book. It is evident
that we have come to a very important part of the teaching, because there is a
longer comment from each of these Great Ones than on any of the previous
sentences.
The Master Hilarion's note to the seventeenth rule begins as follows:
These four words seem, perhaps, too slight to stand alone. The disciple may say:
" Should I study these thoughts at all, did I not seek out the way?" Yet do not
pass on hastily. Pause and consider awhile. Is it the way you desire, or is it
that there is a dim perspective in your visions of great heights to be scaled by
yourself, of a great future for you to compass? Be warned. The way
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is to be sought for its own sake, not with regard to your feet that shall tread
it.
The spirit in which we should approach the Path is beautifully expressed in
these words. All the way through the personality must be put aside, and one must
work from the point of view of the Higher Self. To do that is to seek the way.
We have already seen that even when the man has left ordinary ambition behind,
he finds it again and again in subtler forms. His ambition now is to reach a
higher level; he has made up his mind to desire no longer anything for the
personal self, to put whatever power he has entirely at the service of the Great
White Lodge.1 He thinks only of being a good instrument, of bringing himself
into such a position in relation to the Master that his forces may play through
him with as little hindrance as possible.
All forces coming down from higher planes naturally meet with great constriction
when they come to work on a lower plane. The force which comes through any
disciple can never be more than a very small part of the influence which some
Great One may send through him. That must be so by the very nature of the case,
but one who makes himself, with all the imperfections that naturally cling to us
on the physical plane, as perfect an instrument as possible for the Master's
force, can do very useful work. The object of the disciple is to let as much as
possible of that force flow through him, and to discolour it as little as he
can.
1 This is a traditional term not related to colour (Publisher).
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The force is poured through him in order that he may disseminate it, but he is
not expected to be a mere machine in its distribution. He does lend to it
something of himself, something of his own colouring; that is intended and
expected, but it must be in perfect harmony with the Master's attitude and
feeling. That is possible because the pupil becomes one with the Master in a
very wonderful way, as I have explained in The Masters and the Path.1 It is not
only that all that is in the consciousness of the pupil is also in the
consciousness of the Master, but that everything that takes place in the
presence of the pupil is also in the Master's consciousness—not necessarily when
it is happening, unless he chooses, but quite certainly within his memory. If
the Master happens to be busily engaged in some of his higher work for the
moment, it does not necessarily follow that he is attending to a conversation
which the pupil is carrying on at the time; but we have startling evidence that
sometimes he may be, because occasionally he interjects a thought or a remark,
and corrects something that is being said.
As I have explained elsewhere, any feeling which the pupil allows himself to
have will react upon the Master; if it were such a feeling as annoyance or
anger, the Master would shut it out in a moment; naturally the pupil does not
want to give him the trouble of doing that, though, perhaps, if one may say it
with all reverence, it is not a very great trouble. Possibly the Master does
this very quickly, in a single thought, but yet one
1 Op. cit., Ch. V.
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does not wish to cause even that trifling interruption of his work.
Naturally also the pupil wants to avoid the shutting off of himself which
necessarily happens at the same time; therefore he tries, as far as he may, to
prevent any undesirable thought or feeling from entering his consciousness. He
would keep away from a noisy crowd or from any place with exceedingly bad
magnetism, unless he had to go there to do the Master's work. In that case he
would put a shell round himself and see that no unpleasantness reached the
Master. Still, purely physical things in the consciousness of the pupil are also
in the consciousness of the Master. If, for example, the pupil is startled by a
sudden sound, it gives him a little shock. That little shock is communicated to
the Master. He cares nothing for it; he puts it aside, but the fact remains that
it is communicated, and that shows how close is the tie. A pupil who is wise
tries to avoid any kind of shock; he is generally rather a gentle and quiet sort
of person, for that reason.
It is one of the distinguishing marks of the pupil that he never forgets his
Master, or the presence of his Master. So he does not allow within himself, if
he can help it, except by inadvertence, any thought or feeling that he does not
want recorded in the Master's thought or feeling, and he even tries to avoid, as
far as may be, exterior disturbances which might also be of a kind that would
cause him to be temporarily shut off.
The delight to the pupil of that close union with the Master is intense. The joy
of being in touch with so
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glorious an intelligence with such splendid emotions, or rather powers—because
such things as devotion, love and sympathy, in a Master cannot be called
emotions; they are great powers—is wonderful, beautiful beyond words. The more
the pupil lays himself open to those higher influences the more do they flow
into him, and the more does he become like the Master whom he serves. It is a
matter of steady growth, but this growth is much helped by the constant flow of
force between the Master and the pupil.
This union is a kind of foretaste on a lower scale of the higher unity that
comes when the buddhic consciousness is fully developed; but short of that
development I think there is nothing so close as the relation between pupil and
Master. Those who want to be in the privileged position of a pupil should
already live as far as they can in the way they will feel it incumbent upon them
to live when they do become pupils. The more we can bring that general calmness
and serenity of action, feeling and thought into our lives, the more nearly we
shall be fit for the closer association when it comes. Unquestionably the way to
deserve such a privilege is to live as though we had it even already. I 'know
people often think that the small external things do not matter. They sometimes
say: " Oh, perhaps such-and-such a thing keeps one back in evolution, but it
cannot matter very much, it is such a small thing." I have heard that said about
meat-eating and smoking. But we are not in a position where we can afford to
neglect the slightest thing that is of help. The undertaking before us is one of
considerable
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magnitude, and it is no easy task. That being so, it is not the part of the
wise man to neglect even the smallest help. And these things are not small in
reality. The Master further says, in his note:
There is a correspondence between this rule and the seventeenth of the second
series. When after ages of struggle and many victories the final battle is won,
the final secret demanded, then you are prepared for a further path.
The seventeenth rule in the second part of the book, to which the Master refers,
runs thus: " Enquire of the inmost, the One, of its final secret, which it holds
for you through the ages." That means that just as now we must seek out the
Higher Self, when we have reached that higher level we must seek out the one,
the Monad. The final secret is always how to do more and higher work. Many
persons seem to think that rather a dreary prospect. There are large numbers of
people whose great desire is rest; there is so much strain and stress and
overwork all about us that they look forward to complete rest. That is a point
of view which belongs exclusively to the physical body. On higher planes we are
never tired.1 I have known people who have remained in the astral world for a
number of years waiting for a body which the Master thought suitable. In one
case a man had to wait twenty-five years, in another, twenty. Both were devoting
themselves absolutely
1 Ante., Vol. I, Part III, Ch. 2: The One Good Desire, Vol. II, p. 216, 347.
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without cessation to the Master's work for the whole of that time. Certainly
neither of them had the slightest sense of fatigue, nor was he in any way less
eager to work at the end of that time. So if there be such a thing as fatigue on
the astral plane, it must be far removed beyond any time with which we have to
deal.
When the final secret of this great lesson is told, in it is opened the mystery
of the new way—a path which leads out of all human experience, and which is
utterly beyond human perception or imagination. At each of these points it is
needful to pause long and consider well. At each of these points it is necessary
to be sure that the way is chosen for its own sake. The way and the truth come
first, then follows the life.
A.B.—When the liberated soul has completed the stages of progress to Arhatship,
and is passing onward to the first of the great Initiations beyond, he makes a
choice from a variety of paths open to him. They are of the sacred number of
seven—he has seven ways of choice before him.1 People often say that at that
point there can be only one possibility—that a man must choose to be a
Master—the underlying idea being that if he decides rightly he will choose to
return to help the world. Such a decision recommends itself when humanity itself
is thought of, but I must remind you that this is a hasty conclusion. A hint is
thrown out as to the nature of the choice, where the note says: " At each of
these points
1 Ante., Vol. II, p. 217, 375.
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it is necessary to be sure that the way is chosen for its own sake." The words "
own sake " give the key. The choice is to be made for the sake of the way only.
The fact that there are more ways than one, ought to prevent our laying down the
law as to our choice; still more should it stop any person from using the words:
"If he chooses rightly," as if any one could choose wrongly when the soul is
liberated.
Yet an idea—a very subtle one—runs through us, that we can dictate the choice.
We sometimes find ourselves choosing for our own future—for the far off
future—what to be and what to do; and that is really the lower consciousness
choosing for the higher. This subtle tendency runs through our life. Part of our
consciousness feels itself as the "I", and naturally inclines to choose the path
of the future as it looks at it, forgetting that it is thereby choosing for the
higher consciousness, in whose hands alone the choice really lies. Making up
your minds as to what is to be done at the close of the Arhat stage, would be
like a child choosing his profession in life. His selection, not being guided by
knowledge, would certainly not be one that his mature judgment would approve. A
young child can have no choice as to his career in the future, and it is the
same in these matters. The higher ego will choose, without regard to the lower;
indeed, the lower will perish before the choice comes. All that is important to
put before the lower, then, is the idea of service—-of its being made an
instrument to serve. Unless it does this it becomes an obstacle to the higher
consciousness. Remember it can throw obstacles in the
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way of that consciousness; as has often been said, it crucifies the higher
ego.
Another thing to remember is that we cannot judge of any stage of consciousness
that we have not experienced, and of which we do not know the relative value.
When thinking of a higher condition of consciousness that you have not
experienced, there is no possibility of your being able to form any judgment
about it. When you reach that state the universe alters for you, bringing about
a change in your nature, and causing you to know how such consciousness can act.
You must experience this change before you can know. So in forming any opinion
as to a path in the future, it is a case of judging a state of consciousness of
which you have no knowledge, and your judgment is worthless.
Looking at it from a higher standpoint, there is but one thing that decides our
choice, and that is the necessity of the world at the time. Where a place is
empty, where help is needed—there are the things which decide the choice. Out of
the different ways before him, the purified soul will go where help is wanted.
Self-determined, he takes that course where help is needed by the Hierarchy, for
the expression of the Will of the Logos. I was told by a Great One that it was a
blunder to think that choice could be made at all down here; that the choice is
always made to give the help which is wanted for the expression of the Will of
the Logos.
One group of workers stands for help in the world. Only when reinforcement is
needed amongst Them, only when a channel is wanted, would the choice turn to the
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world's work. I have emphasized this because it was given as a warning to
myself, not to let my thoughts turn from useful activity to other lines of work
not yet given us to do. In the Bhagavad Gita we are warned that the dharma of
another is full of danger—our work lies where our dharma lies.
C.W.L.—The path which leads out of all human experience is the path of the
Adept, which opens up before him with a choice of seven ways, as we have already
seen. I have heard many members say: "Oh, of course there is no question at all
about what we should choose; we should remain to serve humanity." It is wiser
not to waste our strength in such decisions, because as a matter of fact we do
not know anything about it. It is like a little boy making up his mind what he
will do when he is a man. He wants to be a pirate or an engine-driver. We know
as little now about the conditions that will determine our choice as the little
child does of those which will determine his future. No one of the seven paths
can possibly be in itself more desirable than another, though they all lead to
work of different kinds.
Quite surely the idea that will be most prominent when the time of choice comes
will be: " Where can I be of most use? " What we might perhaps safely prophesy
of our action is that we shall say: " Here am I, Lord; send me wherever help is
most wanted." But even so it may well be that as we unfold we shall develop some
special aptitude for one or other of these lines, and thus it will be obviously
best for the whole system that we should be used in the line where we can do
most good.
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Whenever a higher level of consciousness is reached, our view of the world is so
much widened that it becomes an entirely new thing to us. When we reach
Adeptship we shall have an immeasurably wider horizon. We shall understand
exactly what we are doing because we shall be able to see the solar system as
does its Maker, from above, instead of from below; we shall see the pattern that
is being woven, and what it all means. Every additional step, every extension of
consciousness brings us nearer to seeing the meaning of everything, so as we go
on we become less and less likely to make mistakes and to misunderstand, but the
perfect knowledge can only be that of the Adept, whose consciousness has become
one with that of the Logos of the system, even though it be only as yet in one
of His lower manifestations.
In any case, that choice is in the hands of the Monad, so we certainly need not
trouble ourselves about it now. There is always a possibility that the Monad may
have decided all that even now, and when such a choice is made the lower
representatives or parts of him will simply fall into their place when the time
comes, whatever ideas they may previously have been forming. All that is
important for us to put before the personality now with regard to such choice is
the idea of service. If we can get it to understand that idea of always watching
to serve, it will very readily become a perfect channel for the ego, and that
will influence the individuality in turn to be a perfect channel or instrument
for the Monad. Service is the highest ideal in life; did not the Christ
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Himself say: " Whosoever will be chief among you, let him be your servant " ?
l
18. Seek the way by retreating within.
19. Seek the way by advancing boldly without.
C.W.L.—To seek the way by retreating within means in the beginning to seek out
and follow the guidance of the Higher Self. As has been explained before, the
first stage on the way is the unification of the personality with the ego. Later
the ego becomes a perfect expression of the Monad, and the man is then ready for
the Asekha Initiation. Beyond that the Adept is striving to raise the
consciousness of his Monad into the consciousness of the Logos. It is always
himself at higher and higher levels that he seeks.
Whenever a man at any stage tries to pour devotion up into a higher level, such
a flood of the divine power descends upon him that it quite overwhelms his
effort, and the effect is not so much that he has reached up, as that power has
been poured down on him. The same thing happens between the pupil and the
Master. The pupil sends out his love towards the Master, but it is surpassed by
the response of the Master's love, so that to him it seems that he has received
a vast flood of love, though in the first place it was his action that made the
downpouring possible.
Such, at a higher level, is the pouring down upon the Adept of the Holy Ghost,
the power of the Third Aspect of the Logos, symbolized in the " cloven tongues,
like as
1 S. Matthew, 20, 27.
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of fire " of Pentecost.1 Thus in due course the Adept becomes one with the Third
Aspect of the Logos manifesting on the nirvanic plane. His next step is to
become one with that Aspect which is represented by the Christ in the bosom of
the Father. Later on, though I know nothing about it, I am quite sure that he
will draw ever nearer and nearer to the Deity of our Solar system. We shall ever
approach the Light, but we shall never touch the Flame. Not that we shall not
rise one day to the height where He stands, but He does not stand still to
receive us. He also is evolving, and therefore we shall not touch the Flame,
though we shall ever draw nearer and nearer to it. The wonderful bliss of that
experience cannot be described down here, because it is all of a nature which
has no counterpart in the lower world.
In every man there is much to be found by seeking within. The personality, which
most people think of as themselves, is only a very small fraction of the man. We
are much larger people than we show ourselves to be. The ego can only put down
one small part or facet of himself in a particular incarnation and even if that
part is manifesting perfectly it is only a small part. A great man is a fine and
beautiful thing to see, even down here, but we may be sure that the whole is
very much greater than the part which we can see. No one personality could
express all the multiplicity of possibilities which lie within the ego, which
has within it the essence of the experience of all the lives it has led. The
highest and very best of us down here might be taken as a fair
' Acts, 2. 3.
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average sample of the qualities we should discover in the ego if we were able to
see it.
We get these samples sometimes, and should try to understand them as such; we
often find, for example, quite an ordinary person showing great heroism when a
sudden emergence arises. A workman will sacrifice his life to save his
fellowman. Now the possibility of doing that shows that the man inside is really
at that level. Whatever is the highest a man can touch is in reality the man
himself, because he could not touch it, could not think it, if it were not
himself. All the lower expression -the storms of passion, the baser
feelings—belongs to the personality. They should not be there—that goes without
saying—but they are not the real man. If sometimes he touches great heights,
that is the level at which he ought always to strive to keep himself.
The high and noble things for which a man yearns must be to some extent
developed in the ego, otherwise he could not be longing for them down here. The
people who do not wish for such ideals are those in whom those particular
qualities do not exist even in germ. If we yearn for higher things they are in
us not as a mere possibility but a living fact, and it remains for us to live at
our highest level and in that way reach one still higher.
The whole object of the ego in putting himself down is that he may become more
definite, that all his vaguely beautiful feelings may crystallize into a
definite resolution to act. All his incarnations form a process by means of
which he may gain precision and definiteness. Therefore specialization is our
way of advancement. We come
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down into each race or sub-race in order that we may acquire the qualities for
the perfection of which that sub-race is working. The fragment of the ego which
is put down is highly specialized. It is intended to develop a certain quality,
and when that is done the ego absorbs it into himself in due course, and he does
that over and over again. The personality scatters something of its special
achievement over the whole when it is withdrawn into the ego, so that he thus
becomes a little less vague than before.
The ego, with all its mighty powers, is very much less accurate than the lower
mind, and the personality, valuing above all the discriminating powers of the
lower mind which it is intended to develop, often comes in consequence to
despise the far higher but vaguer self, and acquires a habit of thinking of
itself as independent of the ego.
Though the ego is vague in the earlier stages of its evolution and is therefore
unsatisfactory to that extent, there is in him nothing that is evil—no moral
defect. There is no matter in the causal body which could respond to the lower
vibrations, but wherever there is a gap in its development there is always a
possibility that the lower vehicles will run into some sort of evil action. It
sometimes happens in such a case that when an emergency arises the astral
elemental takes possession of the man and he madly stabs another man, or, being
in great need of money, he finds himself in some position where he can obtain it
dishonestly, and succumbs to the temptation. The ego is then not sufficiently
awake to
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step in and prevent the action, or perhaps he does not understand that the
passion or greed of the astral body-may force the lower self into the commission
of a crime. When we find evil turning up unexpectedly in a man's character we
must not think that it comes from the Higher Self. Yet it comes from a lack in
the Higher Self; because if the ego were more developed he would check the man
on the brink of the evil thought, and the crime would not be committed.
To seek the way by retreating within means for us that we must always endeavour
to live up to our highest level, so that we may be able to bring down more and
more of the treasures which the ego has garnered during innumerable
incarnations. But while seeking thus to realize the Higher Self we must remember
that we must also seek the way by advancing without. We cannot afford to be
ignorant of what is outside us, and we must do our best to study and to become
acquainted with the world and what is going on in it.
CHAPTER 9 RULE 20
20. Seek it not by any one road. To each -temperament there is one road which
seems the most desirable. But the way is not found by devotion alone, by
religious contemplation alone, by ardent progress, by self-sacrificing labour,
by studious observation of life. None alone can take the disciple more than one
step onwards. AH steps are necessary to make up the ladder.
A.B.—Rule 20 is the comment by the Chohan on the three short aphorisms 17 to 19,
which were considered in the last chapter. It tells us that a man has not to
develop only on that line where he finds the least resistance, but must unfold
his powers on every line before he reaches the universal goal of usefulness. His
aim is to be a perfect instrument of the Good Law, and no man can become that
unless he grows along every line. Each type or temperament must therefore supply
what is lacking in itself before perfection can be achieved. Humanity reaches
the goal not by devotion, nor by religious contemplation, nor by
self-sacrificing labour, nor by observation and deep thought alone. Ultimately
we shall
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all need to have all these things, but while on the way people are limited by
their temperaments, and for a long time to come the work of each disciple in
helping humanity is likely to be limited chiefly to one of these ways.
It is clear why we must master all the ways. As men advance they must draw
nearer together, must become welded into an organic whole. So if a man possessed
great power of religious contemplation, but very little of the other powers it
would be of little use for him to come into contact with a man possessing
chiefly the quality of self-sacrificing labour. He could not meet him on that
ground, and that would limit his usefulness. So it is desirable that while the
disciple is striving to perfect himself on his special line of work, is seeking
to learn everything about something, he should at the same time not neglect to
learn something about everything, so as to be able to make full contact with
people of different temperaments with whom he must work.
The key-note is balance; we must be able to work to some extent on all lines.
Toleration also is wanted, that we may be able to help all. We must see each
man's way as right for him—as one of the roads leading onwards it has to be
recognized as good. We must have respect for all types of people, and until we
are able to help them all ourselves we should try to guide those whom we cannot
help, to others who can help them, and not disparage the roads on which they are
going, and seek to turn them into our own.
C.W.L.—People are almost always lopsided in their development. Some are strong
in devotion, some in
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intellect, some along the line of work. Each man, according to his temperament,
is taken naturally along the line which is easiest for him, yet he must not
forget that all-round development is necessary before he can reach Adeptship.
The Adept is above all things an all-round man, and if we are putting him before
us as an ideal, we must do what we can to develop ourselves in various
directions. It is a fine thing to be full of devotion, but we must have
knowledge along with it, because the man who is merely blindly devoted is of
little use. The converse is true of those who advance by intellect. They must
also take care to acquire devotion, otherwise their intellectual development
will lead them astray. It is better to develop along one line than not to
develop at all, but while every man should pursue his own line, he should
nevertheless remember that there are other lines. Often the tendency is to
criticize other paths, and to feel that they may be less useful than our own.
They would be less useful to us, perhaps, but are not at all so to those who are
following them. Wherever we may be at present in our development we shall
certainly have to become balanced, so if now we appreciate only the idea of work
we shall nevertheless presently have to realize the position of the man who
advances by wisdom, and again that of him who progresses by devotion, and not
allow ourselves to think them less immediately useful than we are. I am afraid
that the people who advance by devotion are often a little intolerant of those
who wish to study and to work. They sometimes say: " All that you are doing
belongs to the outer plane or to the
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purely intellectual side of things, whereas the heart side of everything is
always the more important, and if you neglect that you can make no real
progress." It is perfectly true that the heart side must be developed, but
nevertheless there are those who advance best through definite work, and others
who cannot evoke from themselves the best that is within them without careful
study and full understanding.
Men sometimes feel drawn to the higher life, and devote themselves to
contemplation only. There are occultists who hold that to be the best way, at
least in the early stages. A man might say: " I must first develop myself in
order that I may be able to serve. When I am an Adept I shall serve perfectly; I
shall make no mistakes." But there is work to do at all levels, and the man who
has qualified as an Adept has to work at very much higher levels than any we can
reach; therefore if we wait until Adeptship is attained before we are willing to
work for the world, a great deal of the lower work will in the meantime be left
undone. Our Masters are working chiefly on the nirvanic levels, on the egos of
men by the million. They are doing at that higher level what we could not do,
but there is a very great deal to do on the lower planes which we can do.
People have sometimes been disposed to think that the Masters ought to be doing
this lower work, that they should, for example, be working with individuals down
here. I have explained before that they do not do that, except in the
comparatively rare cases of those who they see will very shortly repay them for
their effort.
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It is so entirely a case of what is best for the work that no sentiment of any
sort enters into the matter at all. They will work with a pupil if he can do
good work in return, and if the amount of energy spent in teaching and guiding
him will produce more result in that way in a given time than would be produced
by the same amount of energy expended along higher and wider lines; that is,
only if the man is apt to learn, and prepared to do a great deal himself
whenever opportunity offers. Up to that point their interest in him would be
what one might call a general concern.
There is much work to be done at these lower levels, and it is a fact that a
great amount and variety of it has not been done previously. New ways of service
are constantly being opened up as mankind advances in brotherhood. Our Masters
had many pupils before the Theosophical Society came into existence, but most of
them were Orientals, chiefly Hindus and Buddhists, S ufis and Zoroastrians. The
trend of the Oriental mind is not quite the same as ours. I think without
offence we may say it is less practical in some directions than ours, and the
majority of Indian pupils have occupied themselves chiefly with their own
studies, of which they had an immense amount to do, and only when they had
advanced a considerable way on that line did they then turn aside to help
others. They had not the incentive that we have for the work of the invisible
helpers. Nobody in India— not even a coolie—is quite as ignorant as the average
Christian about after-death states, so there is not the
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same need for rescuing them from the delusions created by the idea of eternal
hell. As soon as our students began to see what astral work involved they
realized that there was a crying need for help. Here were people by the thousand
suffering intensely from a nightmare, a sort of bogey, which they had made for
themselves simply on account of foolish teaching. A sight of that kind urges one
at once to make some effort to relieve all that distress, consequently the work
of the invisible helpers began, and increased like a rolling snowball. Every one
who is helped sets to work to help others, so it has happened that in about
thirty-five years, since the work was regularly taken in hand, the effect
produced has been very great indeed.
A man. may reach great heights by attending only to his own development, but
along that line he will not reach Adeptship. The man who waits to attain
Adept-ship before he serves the world will never be an Adept. He may escape into
nirvana, or obtain liberation, but because he has not realized what the Logos
wants of him, he will presently be overtaken by numbers of less advanced and
less talented people who have realized that one important thing. Then he will
have to give up his life on higher planes and come back to learn what he has not
learnt before—that humanity is one, and that a man who does not realize that
fact cannot scale the loftiest heights of progress.
But, as is said here, self-sacrificing labour alone is not sufficient to gain
for the man the highest development. He also needs to develop his devotion, and
above all to
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develop his power of response to the inner light, because without that he will
not be a perfect instrument. Without that he might be working away most
energetically, but would be unable to respond to the touch, the hint from above,
sufficiently quickly. He would need, as it were, to be pulled round
energetically, instead of requiring just a gentle touch, which is all that
should be necessary, and so would cause more trouble to his Master in training
him. He must also learn something of the great plan" because, glorious as the
work is, the man cannot do it perfectly unless he has knowledge. Therefore he
must make a definite effort in the way of study to attain that. Much knowledge
comes in actually doing the work, but there is every reason for us to take
advantage of the accumulated experience of our forerunners and learn whatever we
can by study, so that our work may be better done.
The vices of men become steps in the ladder, one by one, as they are surmounted.
The virtues of men are steps indeed, necessary—not by any means to be dispensed
with. Yet, though they create a fair atmosphere and a happy future, they are
useless if they stand alone.
A.B.—Here both vices and virtues are called steps. This broad view cannot harm
students, and is indeed necessary for the disciple, but it would be right in the
world to take the narrow view, for vice must mean vices, and virtue must mean
virtues, to undeveloped people. The broad view would confuse their ideas of
morality;
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they cannot apply principles with understanding, and think of the moral bearing
of each action, so they must have a list of things that are bad, for their
avoidance, a set of religious and social commandments for their guidance. It
would be a mistake to upset the popular view of vice and virtue, although it
permits many actions the disciple has outgrown.
But esotericists should learn to understand what they both mean, as
manifestations of the Divine. The way to regard it is to think of every soul as
a divine being, as a centre of outgoing energies pouring into the world. The
life of man consists in the expression of the life of atma, and it finds
expression outwards. In die earlier stages of its evolution there was nothing to
be called vice or virtue, but simply an outrush of energies, very largely along
lines which the standards achieved by society to-day would not approve It is
true that from the beginning of our human career most of us, especially those
who had individualized at a high point from the animal kingdom, were in a
position to use our intelligence to some extent, and so were able to learn many
things by observation of others. But it remains a fact that nevertheless all of
us in earlier stages must have done many things which would now be accounted
evil. Those experiences taught us to do better, so they were steps or means of
progress. And they also helped to make it possible for us to understand and help
others who are going through such experiences now. All types of experiences are
equally necessary; we could not know even partly what they are without every
kind of expression,
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and should never be able to help other people if we did not understand.
In former times we may have been murderers or drunkards; if these things have
been our particular experience, we now know them as wrong because we did them
before we knew better, and found that their results brought suffering. At a
further stage we learned that such things delay our progress, and are therefore
wrong, but without some experience we should never have realized this
consciously. No amount of advice could have given us the vivid knowledge we have
gained from experience. Having learnt our lesson along one line we never again
under any stress of temptation make that particular mistake. You would never be
safe if there were any possibility of your falling. You must have conscious
knowledge of these things; the typical thing you have to know, the fundamental
experience you must have, if you wish to be safe and helpful.
C.W.L.—Here again the Chohan reminds us that the object of occult training is
not to produce merely good men, but great spiritual powers who can work
intelligently for the Logos. Moral goodness is certainly a prerequisite, but it
is useless alone.
When a man begins his evolution in the quite primitive stage he has no ideas of
right and wrong, so we could hardly speak of him as having vices and virtues.
The savage is after all nothing more than a centre of outrushing energy—the
irresponsible kind of outrush of which we see so much in the lower kingdoms. A
creature like a fly has a very tiny body, but it is a
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mass of energy which is terrible as compared with its size. Imagine an entity of
our own size endowed with as much energy in proportion and as little idea of
what to do with it—it would be a terrible, wild thing, a source of danger to all
around.
The savage has that kind of energy. It bursts out in fighting and in lusts of
all kinds, which are certainly vices from our point of view, although we are
hardly justified in regarding them as such in him. He does not murder from any
sort of unholy, vitiated pleasure in murder, as has happened with people of
higher development. He certainly has a kind of pride in being able to dominate
and kill other people, and in that way he works off a vast amount of energy
which, many thousands of years later, will be directed into useful channels. He
has to learn how to handle that energy; how to let it run through him without
doing hurt to himself or others, but that is a matter of long training and
development, and of gaining control of the vehicles by the ego.
We see the same thing at a very much higher stage working out in case of an
immensely powerful man, an American millionaire of the old type, for example,
who made a great amount of money very often by ruining other people. He was
doing a very wicked thing, but he was developing tremendous powers of
concentration and generalship. Having learnt in that position how to do all this
and how to manage his fellow-men, he might perhaps in another life be a general
of an army. Very likely at first he would use his generalship as Napoleon
did—for his own advancement and to gratify
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his ambition. Later on he would learn to use his powers for the service of his
fellow-men. In that way it is clear that the very vices of men are steps on the
way to something higher and better. The advance from vice to virtue is very
largely a matter of learning to control our energies and directing them aright.
We begin to transmute our vices into virtues when we realize that the energy
which is going so to waste and doing so much harm might be applied for good
purposes. Each time an evil quality is finally conquered, it is changed into the
opposite virtue, and so becomes a definite step raising us higher in evolution.
The whole nature of man must be used wisely by the one who desires to enter the
way.
A.B.—The word " way " here means the real spiritual life. Man is a spiritual
being, so in living the spiritual life he is being his true self. If he would
tread that way he must use all his faculties and powers, the whole of himself.
What man is in his essence, that he becomes in truth—a manifestation of the
divine. When the disciple is at a certain stage he is told: " Thou art the
Path." Before this time his Master is to him his Path— he sees the divine
manifesting in the Master; but when the divine in him manifests, he himself is
the Path. He becomes the Path in proportion as he advances. Therefore the whole
nature of the man is to be used wisely. When that is done the divine fragment,
with the help of the thing which he has created for his own use, may unfold its
latent powers into active and positive life.
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The words " divine fragment " are not used merely as a poetic phrase; they
contain a truth we cannot afford to forget, which any other words would be
inadequate to express. The same idea is found in the Catechism quoted in The
Secret Doctrine,1 where the Guru asks the pupil what he sees. He sees countless
sparks, which appear as though detached; the ignorant look upon them as
separate, but by the wise they are seen as one Flame. Such a fragment, inasmuch
as it is a centre of consciousness, is a point without magnitude; it cannot be
separate. All centres are fundamentally one, since there is only one ultimate
sphere, one universe. But the mystery of the unity of being cannot be understood
below the nirvanic plane; it cannot be expressed in the lower worlds, and all
attempts to symbolize it must be imperfect.
The divine fragment is the Monad, which is reproduced in the triple spirit on
the nirvanic plane. There atma is threefold, and it puts down one of its powers
into the buddhic and another into the mental plane. It contains the
possibilities of the Logos, but is at first quite incapable of expressing them.
Atma pouring itself forth appears in Manas as the individualizing principle, the
" I " making faculty that gives rise to individuality in time, as the opposite
to Eternity. It draws round it matter to express itself on the upper manasic
plane, and thus creates as its vehicle the causal body, which lasts throughout
the long series of human incarnations. That is the body created with pain, by
means of which the man purposes to develop.
1 Op. cit., Vol. I, p. 145.
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Think of Atma as pouring itself forth on to the third plane downwards, the
manasic plane. It draws around itself matter of the highest level of that plane,
and forms the causal body. That body is then its vehicle for the expression of
the manasic aspect of itself on that plane. It is manas working through the
causal body. This manas becomes 'dual in incarnation. It reaches down into the
lower levels of the mental plane and forms there a vehicle—the lower manas—which
in turn builds the astral body. In its turn that provides the force which builds
the etheric and physical bodies. Each body on its own plane is a means for
gathering experience, which when suitable is handed on to that which formed the
vehicle; so after the personal incarnation is over the lower manas hands on to
the causal body all the experience that it has gained, and the personality
perishes. The causal body takes whatever experiences are of a nature to help its
growth, and they remain with it through all its future incarnations.
The causal body also has a relation to what is above it. What happens on the
inner or upper side of that vehicle is the passing on into the third aspect of
atma of the essence of all experiences which may have entered into it; what is
thus poured into the manasic aspect of atma renders it capable of acting without
the causal body —that is, without a permanent vehicle which limits it.
The student who thinks this out, will find that it will throw light on the
perishing of the individuality. The same idea appears in the Hindu and Buddhist
scriptures. The causal body is the individuality, that which persists
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throughout the cycle of incarnation. It comes into existence at a certain period
of time; it has to perish at another period. It is born and it dies. As the Gita
says : " Certain is death for the born." T This is true not only in the outer
world, but in the widest sense; as there is birth of the causal body, so must
it perish. It is the thing which the divine fragment has built for himself with
much pain. It is the " I " to the disciple. In some the " I " is thought of as
even lower, in the personality, but this is the " I " which has to be reached at
the beginning of the Path. It is finally transcended at the close of the Arhat
stage of growth, at the real liberation. Up to that time it is diminishing and
changing in character as the Arhat grows. It will ultimately be found to be a
defective " I ", not the real " I " at all, but at this stage of human evolution
any attempt to describe its future condition would be misleading.
The disciple rightly puts before himself, as his aim, the realization and
purification of the individuality. It is a thing created for the use of its
creator. Sometimes it is technically called a creature; then we hear of the
man—the true man—meeting his creature. So also the individual, the creature,
meets his own creator. This meeting occurs only in a high stage of evolution.
When a man meets his creature he is perfect and transcends individuality.
The creation of the individuality takes place at a lower stage; the man is busy
building it up for a very long time. The less evolved members of humanity are
for a
1 Op. cit., II, 27.
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long period shut up in their lower vehicles—that is necessary for their
progress, before the individual is fully built —so the causal body remains an
unconscious shell for a long time, while activities are busy in the personality.
Think of the ages taken in building the physical vehicle; think of the rounds
and the stages that the pitris went through on the moon chain before becoming
fit to pass into human evolution. There is an immense difference in the time
that human beings take in building the individual, though all take long. The
building goes on more rapidly in the higher stages under the inspiration of the
more evolved ego than in the lower stages; when the intelligence reaches a high
stage it is utilizing higher forces and learning not to waste them, and then the
building goes on with immense rapidity. This gives us great encouragement; for
in looking back to the moon chain and thinking of the time we have taken to
advance, it would seem very long if it had to be repeated, but looking forward
we see that progress may become almost incredibly swift.
The divine fragment can do nothing by itself; all its development must come by
contact with outside forces, and through the vehicles—it cannot grow without
them. As H.P.B. said, spirit is senseless on the lower planes. It cannot bring
forth any power without a vehicle of expression on the plane in which it has to
act. Further it can only have control of the vehicles when they are perfected.
The work of bringing the vehicles to perfection develops the powers of the
spirit to perfection, so the two developments, go on together. And when
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that work is complete, spirit has in itself the power to disintegrate its
individual vehicles the moment it leaves them, and to reintegrate them in a
moment when it chooses to do so.
Think of the perfected Spiritual Beings. Only while they were evolving at and
below our human stage were vehicles necessary for their growth, but when such a
one, having drawn all the experiences of that evolution into his essence, wishes
to manifest, He can at any time create what he wants for manifestation, and
after having utilized the forces of the plane, can withdraw the vehicle again.
When speaking of the Planetary Spirits, H. P. B. mentions that they have come
through humanity. They could not appear as helpers if they had not through the
human stages drawn up into their essence the experience necessary. Thus Beings
exist who may not be manifest, but who can manifest themselves, by drawing from
their essence the experience They require and creating a vehicle in which to
work.
It is not difficult to understand how the vehicles are for their " own use ". As
we advance we rise above the bondage of each vehicle manifesting outwardly, and
learn to use it only for the higher work, without any consideration of self.
Doing this as far as the physical body is concerned should be the disciple's
daily practice. The physical body must be mastered so that it cannot throw its
own reflection upon you; it exists only for you to use, and you must learn to
control it completely, so that it cannot compel you to attend to any experience
that you do not want. It should be only an instrument
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for use; you are training it to hand on its experience to the ego. There will
come a time when you no longer want to hand on any experience at all; then the "
I " takes what it wants for its own purpose. This is a high condition to reach,
for it is the stage of the Adept.
In The Secret Doctrine it is said that a Master's body is illusory. That means
only that the physical body cannot affect or disturb him. The forces playing
around cannot influence him through it, except in so far as he allows them; they
cannot throw him off his centre. H.P.B. has also said that a Master's physical
body is a mere vehicle. It hands nothing on, but is simply a point of contact
with the physical plane, a body kept as an instrument needed for the work he
does, and dropped when done with. The same thing is true of the astral and
mental bodies. When the causal body becomes an instrument only, the
individuality perishes, atma having acquired the power of manifesting its third
aspect on the mental plane at will, and no longer needing a permanent vehicle
thereon.
C.W.L.—This statement seems at first sight to contradict some of the earlier
ones. For example, we were told to kill out desire—to kill out various parts of
ourselves. It is said in The Voice of the Silence that the pupil must learn to
slay the lunar form 1 at will—to get rid of his astral body. The words " at will
" give us the key to the expression. We must not destroy the astral body,
because if we did so we should become
1 Ante., Vol. I, Part I. Ch. 2: Initiation and the approach thereto, Vol.
II, p. 128.
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monsters, with great mental development but without any sympathy. Many people
find emotion a great trouble to them because it overwhelms them, but they must
try not to destroy it, but to purify and control it. It must be a force which we
can use and not something which overwhelms us. We must not kill it out, because
without it we could never understand emotion in others, and we could therefore
never help people who are along that line; but it must be refined and all self
must be weeded out from it.
In the same way the intellectual people must not destroy intellect, but must
bridle it and guide it. It is quite true that intellect like devotion may run
away with people. They do not always realize that; they say that the intellect in
itself is a guarantee against anything extreme, but I am afraid it is not. Many
people make a kind of god of intellect; they say: " Our reason is the only thing
we have to guide us and we must always follow that out to its logical
conclusion." That would be quite true if all their premises were always right to
begin with, but usually they are remarkably deficient. They are generally
considering the physical side of the problem only and leaving out of account the
far more important hidden side, and therefore their conclusions are inevitably
wrong.
As I said before, we must be balanced; we must learn to see all sides of a
question, and we must endeavour to avoid developing any one quality, however
good, to such excess that it is altogether out of proportion to all the other
qualities, because often the most admirable quality may become dangerous if it
is taken in that way apart
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from the whole. The man who possesses keen intellect is much to be congratulated
because of that intellectual development, but all the more if he has that should
he be careful that the other side, that of love and sympathy, is not neglected
nor forgotten.
In exactly the same way those who possess the power of love and sympathy must
see to it that they develop the intellectual side of their natures, so that they
will not be led away by their sympathy into foolish action which \will not help,
but hinder. A person with the keenest sympathy but no knowledge is often
perfectly helpless, just as many a man would be in the presence of some sad
accident, lacking the knowledge which a doctor would have. Many people, though
full of sympathy and anxious to help, do not know what to do, and the efforts
which they make, if ignorant, may be just as likely to do harm as good. Very
clearly, there is the need of knowledge as well as emotion.
Emotion is the driving force in our natures. It is said in the old Indian books
that the emotions are the horses, but the mind is the guide; the mind takes the
reins; therefore we need to develop both. We must have our horses, because they
are the means of progress, our storage of force; but we must also have
reasonable guidance, or else they will run away with us. All that is perpetually
inculcated in all occult study, yet it cannot be said too often, because people
forget. There are always those who develop one side only and are sadly lacking
in the other, and that is one of the ways in which even an advanced person may
come to grief.
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Each man is to himself absolutely the way, the truth, and the life. But he is
only so when he grasps his whole individuality firmly, and by the force of his
awakened spiritual will, recognizes this individuality as not himself, but that
thing which he has with pain created for his own use and by means of which he
purposes, as his growth slowly develops his intelligence, to reach to the life
beyond individuality. When he knows that for this his wonderful complex,
separated life exists, then, indeed, and then only, he is upon the way.
C.W.L.—The way—meaning the true spiritual life— can only be found after the
experience of building up the individuality. The expression used here by the
Venetian Master—that complex thing which man has built with much trouble and
pain for his own use—is true of the individuality, and again, of each
personality. The individuality itself is so built by the Monad; it builds in
turn its various personalities, but all for the use of the higher, and for that
alone; the mistake all men make is that of identifying themselves with the lower
nature, and allowing it to delude them into supposing that it is the " I ",
instead of which the " I " is in reality the Monad far behind, which is using
all these vehicles.
The whole evolution of man can be stated as a withdrawing into himself, but
always bringing his sheaves with him, never returning empty-handed. This process
of handing up the result of experience by the lower to the higher is going on at
all levels
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all the time. There are many ways in which we are doing that in everyday life,
only we do not think of it in that light. For example, we know how to read; we
gained that power in this incarnation by passing very slowly through a long
process of learning. Now we can take up a book and understand its meaning at
once, without having to think of being able to read. We have forgotten the
details of that experience, and it would be of no value to ^.s to remember them.
Some of us have learnt to read music, and can play it off at sight, but at first
when we were learning we had to look carefully at each note and then look down
at the piano to find it. Now the fact that we had to pass through all that
labour is forgotten. We do not need to remember all the separate music lessons
in order to be able to play, which was the object of the whole process.
It is just the same with the memory of past lives, People who believe in
reincarnation often have a sense of resentment at the back of their minds,
because they do not remember that for which they are now suffering, even while
they are ready to admit that it is the result of wrong doing in the past. That
feeling is perhaps quite natural but it really does not matter in the least; the
soul does know, and has made a note of that which has brought the evil result,
and will do all it can to influence the personality so as to prevent the same
mistake from occurring again.
People think it would simplify their lives if the personality could remember all
those past incarnations. In some ways it might, but I think that if in the
personality
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we had the full remembrance of all our past lives before we had reached
Adeptship, it would do more harm than good. In the first place, we have not the
power to weigh all these things calmly. We should find it distinctly depressing
to look back at the ghastly crimes we had committed in the past lives. I have
long ago learnt how to look back at my own past lives, but it is by no means a
pleasure to do so. There are certain beautiful actions, some fine incidents in
the past lives of everyone, and one is able to look back with a certain degree
of pleasure on those, but we have found that in looking back upon a past life
the thing that immediately strikes one most forcibly is the number of
opportunities which one did not see. Here, there, everywhere, we were surrounded
by opportunities, and we cannot help feeling amazed that we took advantage of so
few of them. It was not, usually, that we failed to take them because we did not
want to do so; our intentions were good, though rather feebly good, perhaps, and
if we had seen the opportunities we should have taken them. Now we look back and
wonder at our own blindness. We say: " If only I had taken this or that course
of action certain results would have followed, and by this time I might have
reached Adeptship." But we did not. When we rise to that level the power to look
back will be useful to us, but with the amount of intellect and free-will we
have now it would certainly not be an unmixed pleasure. Let us consider the
general principles involved. The whole of this scheme of which we are a part is
intended to further the evolution of man, therefore there can be
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no doubt whatever that if it were best for him that a personality should
remember all his past lives, most certainly that would have been so arranged. As
that has not been done, we should at least have faith enough to see that it is
best as it is. When a man has the power to look back he also gains with it a
wider insight and a more balanced view of things, and by that time he is so
imbued with the certainty of justice in the scheme that if he cannot see exactly
how a result followed from its cause he will say: " Well, I do not see the
reason for this, but I am sure I shall do so presently." It would not occur to
him to think that he had been unjustly treated. The person who is always talking
of being unjustly treated and is perpetually accusing high heaven of neglecting
him, does not understand the rudiments of the case. We know the law is
absolutely just—as just as the law of gravitation—but it does not follow that we
can always tell exactly how it will work itself out.
As I have said, the ego makes a note of that which produces evil results. Warned
by past experience, he tries to influence the personality before it becomes so
strong, so definite and decided that it will not be guided by the vaguer touch
from the ego behind. It distinctly thinks that it knows best along its own line.
Very often it declines to be helped from above, and so the ego cannot influence
it to the full extent that he would like. But he tries to gain control, and as
we go on we shall feel this higher self more and more endeavouring to take the
reins. If we will identify ourselves with him,
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we shall find that then he can do very much more for us. His chief difficulty is
the fact that the average personality identifies itself with the lower vehicles
and rather resents his interference, but if it can be persuaded to identify
itself with him, then at once the whole difficulty is very much lessened.
When in addition to this there is complete control of the astral and mental
bodies, progress may be swift indeed. Normally, when the ego wants to deal with
one thing through his lower vehicles they persist in bringing in a hundred
others, in sending in reports which are not asked for and not desired by the
ego. Control of the mind has to be gained so that it will report to the ego only
what he wants to know. Then, when the ego turns some problem over to his mind,
and says: " Think that out and give me the information I want," the controlled
mind obeys perfectly, whereas under similar circumstances the average mind
reports a hundred things which are useless to the ego, because all sorts of
wandering thoughts break in and assert themselves.
The system of yielding up the results of the lower work, but not the detailed
experience, is going on all the time until we attain Adeptship. As the ego
develops, the first decided change that the man makes is to draw up the
intellect, the manas, to the buddhic level; he still remains triple, but instead
of being on the three planes he is now on two, with atma developed on its own
plane, buddhi on its own plane, and manas level with buddhi, drawn up into the
intuition. Then he discards the causal body because he has no further need of
it. When
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he wishes to come down and manifest on the mental plane again he has to make a
new causal body, but otherwise he does not need one.
Much in the same way those two manifestations on the buddhic plane—the buddhi
and the glorified intellect which is intuition—will be drawn up presently into
the nirvanic or atmic plane, and the triple spirit on that plane will be fully
vivified. Then the three manifestations will converge into one. That is a power
within the reach of the Adept, because He unifies the Monad and the ego, just as
the disciple is trying to unite the ego with the personality.
This drawing up the higher manas from the causal body, so that it is on the
buddhic plane side by side with the buddhi, is the aspect or condition of the
ego which Madame Blavatsky called the spiritual ego. It is difficult to work out
the comparisons in detail with the state through which the Christian mystics
described themselves as having passed, because they approach it from so
different a point of view, but that condition seems to correspond with what they
used to call " spiritual illumination "—that is, the state of the Arhat. It is
the unfolding of the Christ principle. We speak of the birth of the Christ
principle when there is the first stirring of the buddhic consciousness in the
man, but when it is said the Christ is fully unfolded within him, I think it
must mean this state.
When people once reach some of these higher levels the rate of their progress is
very greatly increased. I remember once being asked in India whether a man's
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progress on the Path might be measured by arithmetical progression. I replied: "
I think when once progress is definitely started it is very much more like
geometrical progression." That was rather doubted. The Indians seemed to feel
that that was an extreme statement, so I asked the Master Kuthumi whether
geometrical progression would be a fair statement of the progress of one who had
entered upon the Path. " No," He said, " that would not be a fair statement.
When once a person enters upon the Path, if he converges all his energies upon
it, his progress will be neither by arithmetical nor geometrical progression,
but by powers." So it would not be in the ratio 2, 4, 8, 16, etc., but as 2, 4,
16, 256, etc. That throws a very different light on the matter, and we begin to
see that what is before us is not so impossible and not so wearisome as it
sometimes seems. We have taken all these thousands of years to reach our present
stage, and it does not seem a great achievement when we consider the time spent
upon it. If our future evolution were to be equally slow the mind would fall
back appalled before the contemplation of the aeons needed for us to reach the
goal. It is encouraging to think that when we definitely begin to tread the Path
we make progress with very great rapidity indeed.
I suppose that the average good person is devoting a hundredth part of his mind
to making himself a little better. Many people are not doing even that. We who
are studying and trying to live by the principles of occultism have gone
further, and are beginning to devote a reasonable part of our time to it. When
once the stage
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is reached where all our force and thought is concentrated upon this great task
we shall go ahead by leaps and bounds; however backward we are now, when we can
devote all our powers to the work to be done we shall be able to do it much more
perfectly than now seems at all possible.
Seek it by plunging into the mysterious and glorious depths of your own inmost
being. Seek it by testing all experience, by utilizing the senses in order to
understand the growth and meaning of individuality, and the beauty and obscurity
of those other divine fragments which are struggling side by side with you, and
form the race to which you belong. Seek it by study of the laws of being, the
laws of nature, the laws of the supernatural; and seek it by making the profound
obeisance of the soul to the dim star that burns within. Steadily, as you watch
and worship, its light will grow stronger. Then you may know you have found the
beginning of the way. And when you have found the end its light will suddenly
become the infinite light.
A.B.—In this comment we again consider the triple method of seeking the way.
A division may be made for purposes of classification, by taking the laws of
nature as covering the world of phenomena, the world of observation, the laws of
super-nature as those of the higher manas and buddhi, and the laws of being as
those of the real existence of nirvana.
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By the laws of nature we then mean the laws which work on the physical and
astral planes and the rupa sub-planes of manas.
The laws that are above these, but below those of " being," may be called the
laws of supernature. This includes both the arupa planes of manas and the
buddhic plane. That is the region where life expresses itself more than form,
where matter is subordinate to life, altering at every moment. There is nothing
there to represent a definitely outlined entity. The entity changes form with
every change of thought; matter is an instrument of his life and is no
expression of himself; the form is made momentarily—it changes with every change
of his life. This is true on the arupa plane of manas, and also in a subtle way
on the buddhic plane. It is true also of the spiritual ego, which is buddhi plus
the manasic aspect of the One, which was drawn up into buddhi when the causal
vehicle was cast aside. That state is called by Christian mystics that of
spiritual illumination; it is the stage of the Arhat, of the Christ in man.
The word supernatural is commonly used to cover anything that cannot be
explained by the common experience of the world. Anything that appears irregular
or out of accord with the laws of nature has been so ticketed, much to the
confusion of thoughtful people. There is a wide-spread revolt in the world
against all that is called supernatural; people feel that there cannot be
anything supernatural, because there is no irregularity or disorder in nature,
no region where law does not exist.
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The law is working everywhere and it is one. " As above, so below " is the
universal truth. One nature is expressing itself in different ways, but is
itself the same always. But when we come to what is here called supernatural, we
arrive at a state beyond all that can be touched by the senses—even using the
term in its fullest meaning. We pass altogether beyond everything which is
phenomenal, into the spiritual worlds themselves.
The plane of atma, beyond that, is nirvana, the region of being, where all is
reality, where true consciousness resides. We are to seek this way by study of
our inmost being. Not until we can reach the nirvanic plane in higher meditation
can we get a touch of true atmic consciousness; but it may be sought for. We
begin to search for it by trying to realize its existence. Think of it as in a
region where all is reality, where all limitations have vanished, where unity is
recognized. In meditation try to imagine it, try to figure it to yourself. You
can only do so by a series of negatives. You think: "Is it phenomenal? It is not
so. Is it intellectual? It is not so." You seek it by eliminating what it is
not. You then say: " It is not a thing that the senses can perceive; it is not
what the intelligence can imagine; it is not found even by the illuminated
intelligence, with its vast extent," and so on.
It may be asked: " Why seek it by what it is not, if you can have a touch of
atmic consciousness? " Frankly-speaking, it is not atmic consciousness you get
in the brain, but a little vibration from the manasic aspect of atma differing
from any other vibration in the manasic
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consciousness. Vibrations started on higher planes are different from those that
begin on the manasic plane. When a person attains to the highest stage of the
Path proper—the fourth or Arhat Path—then," in meditation out of the body, he
can pass into samadhi and reach the atmic consciousness in nirvana.
C.W.L.—This twofold triple division, of the methods by which we are to seek the
way and the laws which correspond with those methods, is illuminating and
without a doubt intentional. Plunging into the depths of one's inmost being
leads to the study of the laws of being—the laws of that plane which lies beyond
all that is manifestation for us, that is to say, nirvana. The higher planes
are, of course, still planes of manifestation, and even what lies beyond them is
not really unmanifested, but it is so to us, at our present stage. Only by study
of the laws of being shall we be able to fulfill the real purpose of plunging
into the depths of our inmost being, which is to " make obeisance to the dim
star which burns within ". Clearly that is a very high stage in development—when
we look for the atma and follow only that.
The testing of all experience corresponds with the study of the laws of nature,
that is to say, the laws of the phenomenal world, those which work on the
physical, astral and mental planes into which the personality plunges. Then we
are to learn to understand the individuality by the study of the laws of the
supernatural, by which evidently are meant the laws of those worlds in which the
ego, as such, moves, that is to say, the laws
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of the buddhic plane and the higher part of the mental plane. Of course there is
nothing supernatural, but that word is used here evidently in a somewhat
technical sense. Through all the planes it is the one Life which expresses
itself in different ways, and there is no break of natural law and order in the
whole scheme; only when we come to a region beyond anything that any of our
physical, astral or mental senses can touch, are we reaching up into something
beyond the nature which most of us know, where other and wider laws operate. I
think it is in that sense that the Chohan uses this word " supernatural ".
Beyond the sphere of these senses we pass into a region above the phenomenal, to
what the Greeks called the noumenal world, which is the source and cause of the
phenomenal worlds.
So the meaning of this passage appears to be that when we thoroughly understand
the personality we shall have grasped "the laws of nature"; when we are seeking
to understand the individuality, we shall be dealing with the " laws of the
supernatural," and when, beyond that, we try to realize the atma, we shall be
studying the " laws of being ".
The differences at these levels are sufficiently great to warrant such a
classification. On the physical plane everything depends very much upon its
form, and that is also true in the astral and lower mental worlds. At the level
of the causal body, though it is not quite true that we are without form, at
least the forms are different and more direct. The thought of the causal body is
like a flash of lightning darting directly to its object; instead
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of making a definite separated form, it is simply an outrush, straight to the
object, of the impulse which the thought has given.
When we rise above that to the buddhic we reach a condition which, as I have
explained before, can hardly be described in words. There the thought of each
person is a pulsation of the whole plane, so that every person at that level
enfolds within himself the thought of all the others and can learn from it and
can experience through it, as it were. One cannot hope to make it very clear:
one can only suggest.
It is well for us to try to understand those higher states. Almost the only way
in which we can do this is by the method adopted in the Hindu books, which is
always a negation. They do not describe a state of consciousness; they gradually
eliminate all the things that it is not. After doing that, if we can manage to
retain a sort of sublimated essence of the thought of the thing, we are coming a
little nearer to what it really is.
The followers of the Buddha often asked:
" What is nirvana? " or sometimes they would say: " Is nirvana, or is it not?
"—that is to say, has it an existence, or has it not? The Buddha on one occasion
answered: " Nirvana is; beyond a doubt it exists, and yet if you ask me if it
is, I can only say that it is neither a state of being nor of not-being in the
sense in which you understand those words." Perhaps even he could not make it
clear to us at our level. In our own far smaller way we have the same kind of
experience. I can bear witness that when one develops the buddhic
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consciousness and uses it, much which we now cannot make clear becomes
absolutely plain; but the moment one drops back from that condition of
consciousness one can no longer express that which one has understood. That it
is not readily to be expressed is shown by the fact that the Buddha himself, so
very much greater, was yet unable to put it into words to be understood down
here, except by negatives.
CHAPTER 10 THE NOTE ON RULE 20
A.B.—The Master Hilarion adds the following note to Rule 20.
Seek it by testing all experiences; and remember that when I say this I do not
say: "Yield to the seductions of sense in order to know it." Before you have
become on Occultist you may do this; but not afterwards. When you have chosen
and entered the Path you cannot yield to these seductions without shame. Yet you
can experience them without horror: can weigh, observe, and test them and wait
with the patience of confidence for the hour when they shall affect you no
longer.
In the earlier stages of human evolution the ego is not sufficiently developed
to know right from wrong. But the moment he has learned to distinguish between
them, to know them as different, morality begins. When, for example, he begins
to understand the difference between destroying life and guarding it, there is
for him the birth of morality on that line. The kind of experience which taught
him that knowledge is then not wanted any longer. But though the man no longer
needs
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to test that experience, there is still sometimes a rush of the senses,
compelling him to some wrong action, and that afterwards causes him to suffer,
because he recognizes that it was wrong to yield to it. The saying of the
pseudo-occultist, that a man may do wrong in order to gain experience, is never
justified. When an act is done while a man is unconscious of its being wrong he
is gaining necessary experience; but when there is knowledge that it is wrong,
then each yielding means a fall, and keen suffering must follow.
The condition of yielding under stress of circumstances lasts for many lives;
even after a man has entered on the Path the conflict with the desires of the
senses often continues. Before one can make rapid progress there are long stages
of conflict between the wish that works through the astral and mental bodies,
and the knowledge that its gratification is a hindrance to the higher life. The
conflict on the lower stages is long, and when it passes on into a higher stage,
and arises when mental images are mixed up with the desires of the senses,
temptations become more subtle, for the mind idealizes the sense-objects,
refines the grosser impulses, and presents desires in their most alluring
aspect. Another stage comes when the aspirant is on the Path proper, for even
there the keen force of old temptations is sufficiently strong to assail him. It
is in this connection that we have the statement in the Master's note, which
shows the disciple how he may utilize them; he can weigh, observe, and test
these seductions, waiting patiently for the time when they shall affect him no
longer.
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When the centre of consciousness has separated itself from the body of desire
and moved to the manasic plane, a considerable advance has been made. The man no
longer looks on the body of desire as himself, but as merely a vehicle. Yet its
vibrations can still affect him, for it has a life of its own, and sometimes it
is as if the horses had run away with him. That is the stage spoken of in the
Kathopanishat, when the driver has reined in the horses and they are going
quietly, but are still liable to rush away now and then. The disciple knows when
they have run away by the excitement of the senses. It is a stage of great
trial. The whole nature of the man is shamed and pained by the degradation; he
cannot yield without suffering. In his normal condition of consciousness the
senses do not attract him, he does not feel the temptations of the body, which
are really astral. Yet times come when he does feel them. This happens because
the old mould of desire is not broken up, and it has been vivified from outside.
The channel has not disappeared, though it is wearing out, and the danger exists
that it may suddenly be filled from the outside, and then the desire-form is
revivified. Astral influences cause vibrations in it strong enough to affect the
man's consciousness again; left to itself it would not affect him; but he comes
to place, time or person on account of which strong influences from outside
vibrate through him and revivify this old form.
They are to be recognized as coming from outside, not from himself, so the
disciple ought to understand what they are. With shame, degradation and horror
he
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feels this thing, and wonders how he can feel it. The answer is that there is a
stage in growth when seductions coming from the senses may be experienced but
need not be yielded to. The man then passes them by. He says: " I feel you; I
recognize you; I weigh you; but I refuse to be moved." That is the meaning of
the passage in the Kathopanishat, where it says the man has come to the point
where he can hold the horses in. He can hold the senses under control. It is the
last lesson with regard to the temptation of the senses. When it is learned,
their power over the man has passed for ever. Never again will they have the
power to affect him; it is the last struggle with them, and when it is over the
soul has escaped.
When that time of struggle comes, and it will come to every one, after the
centre of consciousness is moved on to the manasic plane, it is an immense help
to realize its nature and to know how to deal with it, to be able to say: " It
is not I; it is simply a vibration from the lower nature sent out to me; I
reject it; that is my answer, " The moment you repudiate it, the sense of horror
goes; you refuse to feel its influence. When you have done that, you can test
yourself, and see what part of your nature it is working upon. Then you will
wait with patience for the time when you will feel it no more. You trust in the
law; you sit down and patiently wait, and presently it will be unable to set up
any vibrations; the senses cannot make you respond to them. You say: " I can
wait patiently for the time when I shall not feel this thing. It is a dead form
revivified that I feel, and
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it will soon be broken up and will fade away." There is nothing left but to wait
so—perhaps for months or for years. The victory is won when you are able to do
that—the mould is broken. Recognition of your patience gives the last blow to
shatter it, and never again can it affect you, unless you turn your back upon
the goal, which seems an impossibility.
There is one other thing for which this experience is valuable; until you have
passed through it you cannot help the person who yields. You cannot help any
human being unless you are above him, and yet you cannot lift anyone unless you
understand what he is feeling. There is a stage where you yourself are in the
grip of desire; you cannot then help others who are in the same difficulty.
Later, you escape. You repel desire, and reach a point where you cannot
understand why another man should fall into temptation; not understanding his
feelings, you cannot help him; you can point out the evil to him, but you cannot
give spiritual help. You cannot pour strength into him because you are outside
him, and as you are not feeling with him you feel a shock of horror. When you
get that horror you are useless. You can never help anyone from whom you are
repelled; it is better to leave him alone when you feel like that. You must be
able to feel with a person in order to help him.
Even though you can feel with a person you cannot help him if he makes a wall
about himself; in such a case, it is better to drop him for a time, for help
given from the outside is of no use. You may have to give
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up trying to help a person on the physical plane, but you need not stop doing so
from the inside. To help from the inside requires more courage than to do so
from without. It is far more gratifying to give outside counsel and advice; it
is much more satisfying to the lower nature than giving inside and unseen help.
Another thing—if you can help a person, do not be turned away by the opinion of
someone else that he does not deserve help, nor by his own idea that you are not
helping him. H.P.B. was sometimes condemned by her own pupils. They said harsh
things of her, but she was good and strong, and did not repel them, but went on
helping them from the inside, leaving them to think what they would. By helping
from the inside we wear away antagonism. When you have felt antagonism,
antipathy of mind, to others, possibly even to your own teacher, as you do
sometimes, you perhaps blame them. Where you have felt a wall you have thought
it was their wall, but later on you realize that the wall was an illusion—a
thing you had yourself created on the mental plane. When going through this
stage we have built wall after wall, and have suffered by the existence of the
walls, until we threw them down.
There is a still higher stage, which is difficult to explain. There are men who
make a link between the Great Ones and the mass of humanity. As was said of
Jesus, they feel the sufferings of men and their temptations and yet they are
without sin. It is the stage where the person is in an absolutely pure
desire-body; all dead matter has been cleared away from it, and only the
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power of reflecting images is retained. The man is incapable of sin.
Suppose such persons did not exist; there would be no link between humanity and
the Great Ones. They preserve a link, and in their perfect purity they feel in
themselves the sufferings of others. This stage comes immediately before that of
the Master; it is the last stage of the Arhat. A Master cannot suffer pain, his
consciousness is so perfect; he can image past experiences without suffering.
The experience is to him a perfect image, without pain. But in the advanced
condition of the stage before that, though the man cannot sin, and the
personality is pure, it yet transmits a sense of suffering.
In exoteric books this stage is sometimes confused with that of the Masters, and
a feeling of suffering is attributed to them. It is in the stage before that
that there is suffering, where those in the stage of Arhatship are sharing the
work of the Master, without having lost the susceptibility of feeling pain. The
Master transcends all suffering. The Arhats take part in building the " guardian
wall," but they build it with pain. People are apt to apply to the Master what
is true of higher disciples only, who are still in a stage where sin is
transcended, though the power to surfer is left.
At the lower level we may sympathize with friends until we lose all sense of
difference, and we must suffer if we sympathize thus deeply. Until ahamkara is
transcended sympathy and suffering must go hand in hand. If we go out of this
stage too soon we lose our power
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of sympathy; that is one of the temptations on the Path. Great Ones fall back
even when they have reached the last stage, because if they lose suffering
altogether, they lose sympathy, and if sympathy is not perfect, the wall of
separateness is not thrown down.
But do not condemn the man that yields; stretch out your hand to him as a
brother pilgrim whose feet have become heavy with mire. Remember, O disciple,
that great though the gulf may be between the good man and the sinner, it is
greater between the good man and the man who has attained knowledge; it is
immeasurable between, the good man and the one on the threshold of divinity.
Therefore be wary lest too soon you fancy yourself a thing apart from the mass.
A.B.—Here we are told that we must not condemn the man who yields to temptation.
When you have passed through the stage of trial, there is no fear of your
condemning anyone. When temptations are transcended, and you think of the time
when you still felt them, you will not condemn the man who yields.
The difference between the virtuous and the vicious man is comparatively little:
both are struggling in the early stages, and when looked at from either side the
difference is small. But when a man has attained knowledge and has seen the
meaning of virtue and vice, he has made an enormous step. When he sees virtue
and vice only as the pair of opposites, he has transcended knowledge; he stands
on the threshold of divinity, and
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the difference is immeasurable. We have the warning here that if we too soon
think ourselves apart from the mass there will come the temptation to despise
those below us, and then we shall fall. A person who has reached divinity looks
down on no one; he can feel with all, and is one with the lowest.
When yon have found the beginning of the way the star of your soul will show its
light; and by that light you will perceive how great is the darkness in which it
burns. Mind, heart, brain, all are obscure and dark until the first great battle
has been won. Be not appalled and terrified by the sight; keep your eyes fixed
on the small light and it will grow. But let the darkness within help you to
understand the helplessness of those who have seen no light, whose souls are in
profound gloom.
A.B.—When we look up to the region of atma and worship the light within, we
shall see the light as it grows stronger. When you first see that light you get
a touch of consciousness by which you see the darkness in which it burns; the
contrast shows it to you. It is then that darkness within that will help you to
understand the helplessness of those who have seen no light. It is for them that
real compassion is necessary. There is no need to feel suffering for people
after they know that there is light. Compassion is needed for those who do not
know that they are in darkness, but are immersed in trivial things, and yet
think themselves wise. Their darkness is so great that they really do not know
what
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causes them so much suffering. They are the people to whom the Great Ones send
compassion.
Those who have seen even a little light are making progress in things of which
men in the world have not caught a glimpse. When once the light is seen this
kind of compassion is not wanted. If such a man is seen to be suffering, it is
recognized that he is breaking down the wall quickly, and that it is good for
him that he is able to do it.
C.W.L.—When we begin to have knowledge of the existence of the soul, we realize
a great fact of which the vast majority of mankind knows nothing. Most
people—even so-called religious people—have no certainty of the existence of the
soul. Most of them are living entirely with a view to this world. They may hold
a theoretical belief in the immortality of the soul, but the things of the world
are more important to them and their lives are only in comparatively few cases
guided by this belief.
That the " star of the soul " may show itself we must first be sure of the
existence of the soul, we must know it as within ourselves. When we have set our
affections on things above, when we know certain truths within ourselves and
nothing can shake their reality for us, the star is beginning to show its
light—there is a faint reflection of it. By that tiny gleam we see how densely
ignorant we have been and still are; that is the first feeling we get when we
gain a little more knowledge.
" The first great battle " is the battle with the senses. In his steady fight
against them the man has arrayed
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himself against his lower nature, and has won through. When the gleam of light
comes we see how dark the way has been, how all our actions, and even our
affections, have been without that direction which makes them real. The little
light makes all seem hopelessly wrong; it makes us feel helpless, but we must
not be appalled by the sight.
Blame them not. Shrink not from them, but try to lift a little of the heavy
karma of the world; give your aid to the few strong hands that hold back the
powers of darkness from obtaining complete victory.
C.W.L.—We must be careful not to misunderstand this passage. The few strong
hands are the Great White Brotherhood. The struggle is not against the devil as
the Christian puts it, nor must we think of the black magicians as holding the
powers of evil. It is the overpowering strength of matter which is meant here by
the powers of darkness. Our help in the effort to overcome them is needed and is
calculated upon—it is part of the scheme.
There are only a few strong hands helping at present because our humanity has as
yet evolved very few Adepts. The Logos has based His plan on the idea that as
soon as there are those who understand it they will co-operate with it. That is
shown by the fact that up to the middle of the fourth root-race, indeed, even a
little past that time, all the great offices in connection with the evolution of
the world were held by people who did
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not belong to our humanity. Some came to us from Venus, others from the Moon.
These were great Adepts who were really free, who might have gone off altogether
into higher realms. But after the middle point of evolution we ourselves were
expected to develop our own Teachers, and the Lord Gautama Buddha was the first
of these. It is clearly intended that we not only furnish the very great
officials, such as the Buddhas and Christs, but also that all of us at our very
much lower level should be intelligently co-operating, and trying to push on
evolution as much as we can.
Then do you enter into a partnership of joy, which brings indeed terrible toil
and profound sadness, but also a great and ever-increasing delight.
A.B.—This means that we have come into relation with those whose life is bliss,
but side by side with that experience there is still sadness because we feel the
darkness people are in. You have sadness for people, because you are not yet at
the point to say, when you see suffering: " Yes, it is well." At this stage
there comes a subtle feeling about pleasure and pain that does not exist in the
lower world; you feel the more keenly until the light has become perfectly
clear, because the light shows up the darkness. Yet an increasing delight will
come, by recognition of the law. More than that, no being is unhappy in the
fundamental depths of his consciousness, because all are parts of the divine
life, which is happiness itself. More and more as he progresses does
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the disciple contact those depths, until at last he realizes, to use the words
of the Gita, that he was grieving for those who should not be grieved for, that
the wise grieve neither for the living nor for the dead. Why should one grieve
for a being who is fundamentally happy ?
The disciple enters into a partnership of joy, but this very partnership brings
toil and profound sadness, because he oscillates from one condition to the
other. He must learn to feel the inner joy, and yet not lose touch with the
lower principles of others, in which their sorrow is felt. He must feel that
too, but must not be overwhelmed by it. The Path is as narrow as the edge of a
razor, but we are to maintain perfect equilibrium upon it, while the pairs of
opposites play upon us. One great function of the Master is to preserve our
balance. The pupil will be swaying from one side to the other. When the gloom
comes the Guru will send to him remembrance of the partnership of joy: when he
tends to lose complete touch with the sorrows of the world the reminder of
sorrow will come.
For a long time the disciple is subject to these oscillations. We should not
attain perfection unless we experienced the different things separately, before
we reached equilibrium. It is the experience of mankind that we have to learn
one lesson at a time, that we may give it full attention. The disciple who is
treading the path is thrown from one side to the other, until he learns to keep
the balance. Sometimes an entirely causeless gloom comes down, and he finds
himself deep in the shadow. He finds no reason for it; he only knows that
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it is there—a gloom that he cannot shake off. If he has learned the lesson
rightly he will accept that quietly and patiently, and will not try to escape
from it. He will then learn sympathy and patience, and other lessons which can
be learned in the gloom, not in the light. Accepted in this spirit the period of
gloom is not such an unwelcome thing, for all the worry and trouble have gone
out of it. We should take the lessons, and learn without suffering. People do
not suffer so much from gloom as from images. Like a child afraid of the dark,
we fill the darkness of the soul with shapes of horror. The darkness is simple
darkness and nothing else; it contains nothing more than the lessons which it
has to teach us, and all the phantoms will, in time, disappear. The darkness can
never crush us; at first it paralyzes us with fear, but at last we learn its
lesson.
At the last Initiation, that of the Master, the atma is seen as a clear light, a
star, and when it spreads out, at the last breaking down of the wall, it becomes
the infinite light. Before that the Arhat can feel the underlying peace of atma
when in meditative mood, but constantly he returns to the sorrow. But when a man
rises to the atmic plane in full consciousness, and the buddhic consciousness
merges into that, there is but one light seen. This is beautifully put in The
Voice of the Silence: " The Three that dwell in glory and in bliss ineffable,
now in the world of Maya have lost their names. They have become one star, the
fire that burns but scorches not, that fire which is the Upadhi of the flame."
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While the man was in the causal body, he saw the Sacred Three as separate, but
now he sees them as the three aspects of the triple atma. Buddhi and manas,
which were " twins upon a line " in the buddhic consciousness of the previous
stage, are now one with atma, that star which burns overhead, the fire which is
the vehicle of the monadic flame. Then says the Teacher: " Where is thy
individuality, Lanoo, where the Lanoo himself ? It is the spark lost in the
fire, the drop within the ocean, the ever present ray become the All and the
eternal Radiance." He who was disciple is now a Master. He stands in the centre,
and the triple atma 3, radiates from him.
C.W.L.—You enter into a partnership of joy, but it brings also terrible toil and
profound sadness, says the Master's note. All of that is true, but it is also
true that the ever-increasing joy counterbalances the sadness.
Every student who has developed his faculties fully is, by the hypothesis, a
sympathetic man; he must pass through a period of sadness and almost of despair,
because of all the sorrow and suffering which he sees. Because people are
backward in evolution and are not yet reasonable, there is in evidence much more
of suffering and sorrow, of anger, hatred, jealousy, envy and the like than of
high virtues, so that there is a preponderance of unpleasant vibrations from,
humanity. This shows itself in the astral world, so that any man who becomes
fully developed astrally becomes at the same time aware of the sorrow and
trouble of the world—aware of it only in a vague way, but it is ever present
with him as a
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weight resting upon him. Constantly individual instances of the astral sorrow
and suffering which happen to occur in his neighbourhood also press strongly
upon him. In addition any catastrophe involving a great deal of sorrow to a
large number of people distinctly influences the astral atmosphere of the world.
The student has to learn how to receive that without being weighed down by it,
and that takes a considerable time. He gradually learns to look more deeply, and
as time goes on he begins to see that all this trouble is necessary under the
circumstances which men themselves have created. The suffering that comes is a
necessity because of their great carelessness and laxity. If men had been a
little more careful a very great part of it could easily have been avoided. I
have mentioned before that the real suffering brought to us by karma from past
lives is perhaps a tenth of that which comes to us, and the other nine-tenths is
the result of our own wrong attitude here and now, in this life. In that sense
there is a vast amount of entirely unnecessary suffering. But the other side of
the shield is that while people persist in taking the wrong attitude, in
thinking and acting foolishly, under the eternal law suffering must come upon
them; in an indirect way that is distinctly good, because it is bringing them to
a sense of their own folly. The pity is that they need so very much reminding,
that they cannot at once take the hint and alter their attitude—so much
suffering might be saved if that could be. This seems to all of us who have
studied the matter very easy to see. I cherish a hope, therefore, and I think 17
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a well-founded hope, that the suffering of the world will diminish very rapidly
as soon as the common-sense view of things is accepted by a fairly large
minority of people. They will come to see that they are making their own trouble
for themselves, and in process of time they will refrain from all that is
undesirable, purely from the common-sense point of view. Members of the
Theosophical Society ought to be displaying before the world an example of the
Theosophical attitude towards life, but there are many of them who, although
they know these truths, find it hard to put them into practice. That is only
natural, but at the same time one does feel that many of them might take up the
new ideas a little more quickly, and it is certain that things of this sort do
spread in a definite sort of ratio. One man can state a view and make a little
impression; ten men can make more than ten times the impression; a hundred men
can make vastly more than a hundred times the impression that one man could,
unless he happened to be a rare genius. We have some thirty thousand members in
our Society; I think if all of them were really taking this higher philosophical
view of life, and were thereby obviously avoiding a great amount of suffering,
they would form a powerful and striking example. In that way we could help a
vast number who as yet do not know anything about the higher side of things.
When we begin to see that what is being done is always the best—the best under
the circumstances for everybody—our sorrow is no longer of the same kind as
before. We are just as sympathetic towards others, but
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we are no longer overwhelmed by their suffering; we sympathize with them but do
not share their feelings. The Masters are profoundly sympathetic with people who
are suffering, and yet we could not say that they themselves share in that
suffering, because of their insight. As I have said before, a Master is never
sad, never depressed. It has seemed to me sometimes, however, as though even
they could be disappointed with people. I do not know that I ought to say even
as much as that, but I know this, that they make very strong efforts sometimes
to bring about certain results, and yet those results, through the failure of
their instruments, are not brought about. I do not know whether they foresee
from the beginning that those efforts will fail. I cannot but feel that in many
cases they do, but yet they make them precisely as though they expected them to
succeed. For example, much work was done before World War I in an attempt to
avoid it. That effort failed, but whether the Adepts who inaugurated it knew
from the beginning that such would be the result I do not know. They worked at
it as though they expected it to be successful.
Madame Blavatsky in many cases offered people opportunities in a similar way.
Sometimes she made every endeavour to persuade them to take them, when she knew
from the beginning that they would not do so. I well remember one occasion on
which some people came to her to make enquiries. They seemed to me obviously
unsuited for any Theosophic knowledge or work, since they were not at all in the
frame of mind in
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which it would be of use to them. She spoke to these mere casual strangers, and
told them about quite intimate things which she hoped to do in the Society. They
were rather sneering people, who did not seem in the least worthy of such
confidence, and when they went away the Countess Wachtmeister said: " Madame,
why did you tell those people these things ? It seems certain they are not the
sort of people to whom it would do any good. They will only go away and sneer,
and perhaps do us harm." Madame Blavatsky replied: " Well, my dear, some karma
has brought them to me, and I must give them their chance, and do all I can for
them." She thought that to take them to some extent into her confidence in that
way was giving them a chance. I cannot tell, and she could, how near they may
have been inwardly to taking it, but on the surface their attitude was the
conventional sneering attitude. We never heard any more of them, but they had
had their chance. Some past karma had evidently given them the right to the
opportunity, and though it meant nothing to them then, it may possibly help them
a little towards taking it when another such chance comes to them.
On this occasion Madame Blavatsky carried out very fully the idea of not blaming
people who are in darkness. She knew that the more self-satisfied they were the
more they were to be pitied. It is useless to blame anybody for being what he
habitually is, because that is his level in evolution; that is as far as he has
got. If he falls below his average level we may reasonably say: " You know, that
is wrong; you ought not to have done that,"
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and it may possibly help him not to do it again. But the level where a man
habitually is shows where he is in evolution, and however far back he is there
is nothing to be gained by blaming him. It would be as foolish as to blame a
child of five years old because he is not yet ten.
Then again, those very people who frequently exhibit the least pleasant
characteristics have in them the potentiality of the high and noble things as
well, and sometimes these come out in a great burst when an emergency arises. As
I explained before, there are men whose ordinary lives are certainly at a very
low level, yet in some great emergency they may show an unselfishness which
enables them to throw away their lives for the sake of a comrade. Man always has
the god within, and it shows out sometimes when we least expect it. Because it
is there, it is always possible to appeal to it. We cannot always reach it,
because it is so deeply buried, yet in most cases we are able to catch a glimpse
of it in some way.
The sight of the suffering of the world also brings, it is said here, terrible
toil; once having seen this vast mass of backwardness and misery we cannot help
working all the time to alter it. There is nothing else to be done. We can never
go back into the world and be careless of the existence of the suffering and
sorrow when once we have really felt it. Yet behind the toil is a great and
ever-increasing delight. This comes from the recognition of the law; we see the
meaning of suffering and the good that is to come out of it. Note the
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words: " You enter into a partnership of joy." That is the real beauty of this
higher life. We come into partnership with the greater people. We feel ourselves
to be working for and with them, and that is of itself so great a joy that it
supports us through work which otherwise we might feel it impossible to carry
out.
CHAPTER 11 RULE 21
21. Look for the flower to bloom in the silence that follows the storm: not till
then.
It shall grow, it will shoot up, it will make branches and leaves and form buds,
while the storm continues, while the battle lasts. But not till the whole
personality of the man is dissolved and melted—not until it is held by the
divine fragment which has created it, as a mere subject for grave experiment and
experience—not until the whole nature has yielded and become subject unto its
Higher Self, can the bloom open. Then will come a calm such as comes in a
tropical country after the heavy rain, when nature works so swiftly that one may
see her action. Such a calm will come to the harassed spirit. And in the deep
silence the mysterious event will occur which will prove that the way has been
found. Call it by what name you will, it is a voice that speaks where there is
none to speak—it is a messenger that comes, a messenger without form or
substance; or it is the flower of the soul that has
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opened. It cannot be described by any metaphor. But it can be felt after, looked
for, and desired, even amid the raging of the storm.
C.W.L.—The blooming of the flower is the development, the unfoldment of the
soul. The worst feature of sorrow arid suffering down here is the feeling that
one is helpless. People engage in all sorts of struggles, and in many cases
think they are predestined to fail. They will say: " I have heard of certain
people making rapid progress, but there is no chance for me." They are hopeless
about it because they do not know. We can never again have that feeling when
once the soul has unfolded itself, because we know. We shall still have
struggles and troubles and difficulties, but we know for certain that as souls
we are invincible.
As is said here, it is in the silence and the calm that the soul grows. People
tell us, and I think that they often emphasize it quite unduly, that the soul
grows through suffering. Put that way the statement is not quite correct. It is
by making mistakes and correcting them that the soul learns how to grow, and
suffering invariably comes as the result of the mistakes; but as I have
explained before, the growth does not take place during the suffering, but
afterwards. A person may be very much better after a surgical operation, but the
improvement does not take place while the operation is being performed. In like
manner while people are in the throes of all sorts of terrible difficulties they
are not
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growing, but by the way in which they meet those difficulties they may be
learning to grow after they have surmounted them. It is in the silence which
follows the storm that the flower grows. It is possible that plants may develop
strength within themselves by enduring a storm, but growth can come only when
the buffeting of the storm is over. We must have gone through the turmoil of
battle before we gain that great reward of victory, the real unfoldment of the
soul, which brings with it a calm certainty which nothing again can ever shake.
The whole world is crying out, as it were, for that certainty about the higher
things. So eager are the people that any charlatan who professes to have direct
knowledge is at once assured of a following. Any teacher who is in earnest
always draws people round him, because the religions of the world have failed
sadly to give any real satisfaction. The weak point of most religious teaching
in regard to all the subjects is that it does not explain; it simply lays down
the law—perfectly good law—such as " Thou shalt not kill," but it does not
explain in detail why all these things are wrong. For example, as regards anger
and evil thought, nothing is taught as to the wrong done in that way so long as
it does not show itself either in speech or in action. Yet Christ spoke plainly
enough on matters of that sort. He declared emphatically with regard to the
seventh commandment that a man who looked in the wrong way upon a woman had
already committed the sin in his heart, but there is no record of His having
given any
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explanation as to the way in which the thought-form acts, which would have made
His teaching on that point far more comprehensible.
The first step towards gaining direct certainty about spiritual or
superphysical truth is that which is in effect the first step in all occult
progress—the dominating of the personality. When we have achieved that, peace
comes at once, and we then find we have been living in the midst of an
atmosphere of peace and did not know it; because we ourselves made a little
storm around us, for us the peace was not, even though some of our neighbours
may have been living in it all the time. When this soul faculty, this certainty,
is attained, nothing ever seems the same again, because then we can no longer
have any sense of hopelessness. That which we merely believe may fail us at a
critical time, because the basis of belief which satisfies a man at one time
does not always satisfy him at another, when perhaps he is under tremendous
strain. But this certainty always satisfies. When once we have seen and known
for ourselves, even though that sight and knowledge may fall away from us and we
may no longer be able to cling to them, we can always say: " I have seen; I have
known; just now I am not able to see or to know, but I have seen, I have known,
" and that certainty carries us through.
Indeed, when we have had this direct experience we find it very difficult to
think ourselves back into the condition in which we were before. It changes our
whole attitude towards everything in the world. Happenings
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which seemed of great importance before are seen to be of much less
significance; now that we know the great inner truth of the life which really
matters, the outer life which does not matter takes its proper place. Yet we
have to remember that most people whom we meet are still where we were before we
had that expansion of consciousness, and it is sometimes a little difficult not
to lack sympathy with them, because they are pursuing will-o'-the-wisps. We
forget that until yesterday we were doing the same thing.
The silence may last a moment of time or it may last a thousand years. But it
will end. Yet you will carry its strength with you. Again and again the battle
must be fought and won. It is only for an interval that nature can be still.
The actual moment of complete unfoldment may take place at any point of a man's
career; that is to say, when the time comes for the soul to unfold it can do so
whether it has a physical body or not at the time; the silence would last only a
moment, or only a very short time, here on the physical plane, but it might well
last a thousand years if the man were in the heaven-world. It will come at some
time to all, and once attained it can never be lost. Yet it is only for a moment
that nature can be still, because evolution is steadily going on, and to stand
still is not to evolve. It has been said that in occultism no man stands still,
that he is always either retrograding or advancing. I do not know whether that
is actually so, but it is quite certain that if he is not
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advancing he should examine himself, and try to find out why. There ought to be
steady and continuous progress.
We come now to the Master Hilarion's note on Rule 21.
The opening of the bloom is the glorious moment when perception awakes; with it
comes confidence, knowledge, certainty. The pause of the soul is the moment of
wonder, and the next moment of satisfaction—that is the silence.
The opening of the bloom is a gradual process. Even while the bud is still
tightly shut it is slowly swelling under the influence of the sun and rain and
the manifold influences that play upon it. The actual bursting of the bud is
comparatively sudden, but the growth is continuous. The growth has been
progressing before that it will go on after. To take another analogy: the
growth of the chicken has been taking place inside the egg before, and it
continues after, the breaking of the shell; there is a particular point when the
shell is broken that is for us the dramatic moment, though it is really only
part of a steady growth. It is the same with the growth of the soul.
This passage refers also to a particular stage in the disciple's life. It
describes the feelings of the man when the first great truth of Initiation is
put before him. People are apt to think that the things that will be taught at
Initiation are many and various. I violate no pledge in saying that the great
truths are not all given
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at the same time. At each stage one single fact is communicated—a fact that
changes the face of the earth for the man, in the same way that the knowledge of
reincarnation and karma has changed our lives. One would expect that, having a
new fact put before him, it would be necessary for the Initiate to grow into it
and prove it. It is not so. The moment the man has the truth he recognizes it at
once as true: he needs no proof. Then comes the moment of wonder; he marvels at
the beauty and perfection of it. Only later does he see that this is not
everything. Later vision brings more into view, but for the moment it is
perfection. He wonders also that what is so obvious has escaped his notice
before. Then comes the moment of satisfaction that is the silence.
Know, O disciple, that those who have passed through the silence, and felt its
peace and retained its strength, they long that you shall pass through it also.
Certainly they do, because those who have unfolded the faculties of the soul
know the whole system, and see it all in action before them, and because they
see it, they yearn that every one shall see it. They realize that part of that
plan is that we should all help. Therefore they desire that every one as soon as
possible should be brought to see that his duty is to assist, that that is the
real work of the world. We all have subsidiary work to do; we have our part to
play on the stage of the physical world, and we must play that part as well, as
nobly, as we can; it does not matter what it is, it matters only
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that we should play it well. But we must remember that behind that is the real
soul-life, and that is the thing of greatest importance.
We live in an atmosphere where the means are taken for the end. Most of our
education is built on that plan. For example, people are taught geometry and
mathematics, but are never shown that these lead to a comprehension of how the
great Architect has constructed His universe. So long as we take them as ends in
themselves they lead nowhere in particular; but if we follow them up as did the
ancients who invented them, we shall find they are of great use. Pythagoras
taught the value of numbers and of geometry, but he taught it to the physical,
that is, to those who were learning the secrets of life. They learnt them in
order to comprehend life better, and it is from that point of view that we
should study all things, not merely to make material and commercial
calculations.
Therefore, in the Hall of Learning, when he is capable of entering there, the
disciple will always find his Master.
There has been a great deal of misunderstanding about those words, " the Hall of
Learning ". They are used also in The Voice of the Silence. The three halls
mentioned there may be taken in more than one way, as I have already explained.1
Mabel Collins, who wrote down Light on the Path, took the hall of learning in a
very literal sense as an
1 Ante., Vol. II, p. 89 ss.
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actual building. She speaks of having astrally entered this building and seen
some of these precepts written there in golden letters on the wall. She may be
perfectly right in making this statement. This experience may belong to the
particular method by which she was taught, and those who taught her may have had
such a temple. I do not know whether that is so; I can only say that I have
never seen it. But it is quite obvious that much of what is said here about the
hall of learning clearly refers to the astral plane, where the aspirant at first
learns most of his lessons. Few men have yet developed the astral body fully;
most are still learning how to use it; therefore a great deal of work is being
done at that level. Men are also gradually developing the mental body, but are
not yet able to use that as a vehicle even after death. Anyone who has developed
the faculties of the mental body and can look at dead people, finds them each
shut up in a shell of his own thought, with certain avenues open from that
shell—but only a very few, and only to a very limited degree. The dead man lives
in that shell, and not in the mental world at all. That is why he is perfectly
happy with his very limited ideas. Undoubtedly his capacity for bliss would be
far greater if he had the whole mental plane at his disposal and had developed
the faculties which would enable him to function fully on it. As it is, he is in
the midst of it all, but because of his limitations he can touch only a small
amount of what might otherwise be attained.
Few people have developed the mental body to a point at which it can be used as
a vehicle. Pupils of the
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Masters are in due course taught to travel in their mental bodies, and to form
what is called the mayavi rupa when they wish to work on the astral plane. One
who has learnt to do this leaves his astral and physical bodies lying on the
bed, and when he wishes to work on the astral plane he materializes a temporary
astral body for that purpose and lets it dissolve again as soon as the necessity
for it has passed. The Master first teaches the pupil how it is done, and after
that he can do it for himself, as I have explained in The Masters and the Path.1
The assurance that the disciple will find his Master in the hall of learning
seems to be a direct contradiction to the direction given in The Voice of the
Silence—" Look not for the Guru in those mayavic regions " 2 The two passages
are perfectly reconcilable if one understands what each means. The meaning here
is that in the astral world the man will always find someone representing the
Master. The Master himself will deal with him probably only on special
occasions, and he will work on the astral plane generally under the direction of
one of the older pupils of the Master.
The statement in The Voice of the Silence is merely a warning to us not to
accept any casual astral entity as a guide, without knowing exactly who he is,
for there are numbers of astral beings of various kinds who are ready in the
most praiseworthy way to appoint themselves as teachers, and they are not in the
least deterred by the
1 Op. cit., Ch. IX.
2 Ante, Vol. II, p. 102,
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fact that they often know very much less than the people whom they propose to
teach.
Those that ask shall have. But though the ordinary man asks perpetually, his
voice is not heard. For he asks with his mind only; and the voice of the mind is
only heard on that plane OP which the mind acts. Therefore, not until the first
twenty-one rules are passed do I say that those that ask shall have.
The first sentence in the above passage recalls a very similar one in the
Gospels, in which the Christ says: " Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and
ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you." 1 People generally take
this to mean that their prayers will be answered and that if they knock at the
door of heaven it will be opened to them. They vaguely think that if they try to
obtain salvation it will be vouchsafed to them. This passage takes a higher
standpoint, and refers quite clearly to truth and occult development. It does
not apply to the ordinary man, but to the pupil who, when the first twenty-one
rules are passed, has reached the first Initiation.
The man who asks with his mind only is endeavouring to gain occult knowledge,
trying to peer into the mysteries of life and nature, merely by his mental
powers, and the Master says quite clearly that that is not enough. That man will
get his reply, but only at the level on which the mind acts. That is, he will
acquire only an 1 S. Matthew, 7. 7.
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intellectual conception of certain matters. Still, that is a very fine thing to
have, and is not at all to be despised. The man who in studying Theosophy
obtains a firm intellectual grasp of its teaching has done exceedingly well. He
then accepts it as true, because it satisfies the demands of his intellect. That
is already a valuable result, but it is not actual knowledge; it is not at all
the same thing as the absolute certainty which comes from knowledge gained on
the intuitional plane, and the occultist thinks only of that knowledge as
marking a really important advance.
One cannot have too keen an intellect; we may take that quite definitely for
granted. It is well that we should endeavour to add to our knowledge, to develop
our intellects by doing something definite, because, as I have explained before,
no great progress can be made before there is mental as well as astral
development. In some cases the man who gains an intellectual grasp of the
Theosophical system may run a considerable risk of exalting his intellect
unduly. He may be tempted to criticize, to feel that he could have planned the
universe much better than it is at present arranged. The man who does that is
making an entirely wrong use of his intellect and will do himself harm. It would
be much better for him if he were able to acquire some development along the
line of feeling more deeply and keenly. But if along with his intellectual
development the man can retain humility, if, while he grasps as much as he can
of the system, he can yet, within himself and without, refrain from sitting in
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judgment upon it, then only good will result from his development.
We are always told that we must follow our own conscience. The dictates of
conscience come from above and represent usually the knowledge of the ego on the
subject. But the ego himself is only partially developed as yet. His knowledge
on any given subject may be quite small, or even inaccurate, and he can reason
only from the information before him. Because of this a man's conscience often
misleads him. It sometimes happens that an ego who is young and knows but little
may nevertheless be able to impress his will upon the personality. As a general
rule, the undeveloped ego is also undeveloped in his power of impressing himself
upon his lower vehicles, and perhaps that is just as well. Sometimes, however,
an ego who lacks development in tolerance and wide knowledge may yet have a will
sufficiently strong to impress upon his physical brain orders which would show
that he was a very young ego and did not understand.1
We cannot but obey our conscience, yet surely we might try to check and verify
it by certain broad facts which no one can dispute. It may be that the
Inquisitors were acting under the dictates of their conscience sometimes, but if
they had compared the great broad rules that they should love one another which
their supposed leader, Christ, had given them, with the conscience which
dictated murders and tortures and burnings, they would have waited and said: "
Manifestly something is 1 Ante., Vol. I, Part IV, Ch. 6: Confidence.
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wrong. Let us at least take counsel before we follow our instincts in this
particular matter." They would have been quite right to take such counsel, to
test that conscience, by the general rules coming from One whom they themselves
acknowledged as infinitely greater than themselves. They did not think of it; so
came much evil into the world. Very few people will pause and consider in a case
of that sort, yet one can easily see that it is the only safe thing to do.
So we must use our intellect in such a way that it will be an instrument of the
ego, and will not be an obstacle in the path of his development. Therefore, when
conscience seems to dictate to us something which is clearly against the great
laws of mercy and truth and justice, we shall do well to think carefully whether
the universal rule is not a greater thing than this particular application which
seems to conflict with it.
Even before we have any definite consciousness on the intuitional plane we often
receive reflections from it. Intuitions occasionally come through into our daily
life, and although most of those impressions from the higher self which are
genuine come rather from the causal world than from the buddhic, still now and
then we receive a flash of the real knowledge of the spirit which cannot express
itself on any level lower than the buddhic plane. These priceless flashes bring
us a knowledge which we feel to be absolutely certain, though in many cases we
cannot give any intellectual reason for it.
We are right in feeling confident about it, if the thing is a real intuition.
The difficulty for most of us at the
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earlier stages is that we cannot always distinguish between intuition and
impulse. Dr. Besant has given one or two rules for that distinction. She says: "
If you have time to wait and see, let the matter remain for a while—sleep on it,
as people sometimes say. If it be merely an impulse, the probability is that it
will die away; if it is a real intuition it will remain as strong as ever. Then,
again, the intuition is always connected with something unselfish. If there is
any touch of selfishness shown in some impulse coming from a higher plane you
may be sure that it is only an astral impulse and not a true buddhic intuition."
Both the astral impulses and the intuitions from above enter the etheric part of
the physical brain from the astral plane, but the intuition would come
originally either from the causal or from the buddhic body, as the case may be.
Since both descend from above it is often difficult to distinguish between them.
We shall be able to distinguish infallibly at a later stage, because then we
shall have our consciousness opened above the astral level and will know
certainly whether these promptings arise in the astral body or come from a
higher plane. At present most people have not that advantage, and consequently
they have to exercise their best judgment with such mind as they have succeeded
in developing.
When the twenty-one rules are passed and the disciple at Initiation receives a
touch of buddhic consciousness, the knowledge of unity appears to him as a great
spiritual fact. After that experience there is a difference
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between him and the ordinary man who asks with his mind. It has often been said
that unity is the characteristic of the buddhic plane. That, perhaps, requires a
little more explanation. One may know something fairly completely in one's
causal body—know the essence of the thing, because the ego, working through the
causal body thinks abstract thoughts. He does not need to descend to examples,
for his thoughts pierce through to the heart of the matter. But all that,
however wonderful it is, is still done from the outside.
The great characteristic of the buddhic plane is that its work is done from the
inside. If we want to sympathize with a man, to understand him fully in order to
help him, arid are working in the causal body, we, metaphorically speaking, turn
the limelight upon his causal body, and study all his peculiarities; they are
quite well marked and plainly to be seen, but they are always seen from without.
If we want the same knowledge possessing the faculty of the buddhic plane, we
raise our consciousness to the buddhic plane, and there we find the
consciousness of this other man as part of ourselves. We find a point of
consciousness there which represents him—we might call it a hole rather than a
point. We can pour ourselves down that hole and enter into his consciousness at
any lower level that we wish, and therefore we can see everything precisely as
he sees it—from inside him, as it were, instead of looking at him from outside.
It will be easily understood how much more that lends itself to perfect
understanding and sympathy.
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When we have the wider view which such knowledge gives, and, having become one
with all these different entities and all their different problems, we are
studying them from within instead of from without, we can see the direction in
which we ought to bring our force to bear. That is another and very great
advantage—that we know how to approach problems down here. I do not mean that a
man who has had a glimpse of that unity would not make mistakes on a lower
plane; but he would not make such mistakes if he were able to raise his
consciousness to that plane, look at the thing from that point of view, and then
bring the remembrance clearly down into his physical brain and act upon it. He
might not always have time to go through that proceeding, or he might not think
of doing it at the moment; therefore, at times he would make errors like other
men, but certainly he would have very great advantage in the possession of that
power, not only because of the greater knowledge it gave him at the moment, but
also because of the wider view which would enable him to see in what direction
his forces could best be used to produce the desired results.
To read, in the occult sense, is to read with the eyes of the spirit. To ask is
to feel the hunger within—the yearning of spiritual aspiration. To be able to
read means having obtained the power in a small degree of gratifying that
hunger.
The yearning of spiritual aspiration is not the mere desire to know and
understand, which we might have in
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connection with the causal body. It belongs rather to the higher manifestation
of the buddhic level, and it is only there that it can be fully satisfied. As I
have explained, what happens in the buddhic vehicle, if brought down to the
personality, is reflected in the astral body. People consequently often mistake
an emotional outrush which belongs to the astral plane for real spiritual
aspiration.
Those who have studied occultism ought not to make the mistake, but beginners
frequently do so. We very often see examples of that during religious revivalist
meetings, when quite uneducated and undeveloped people are worked up into a high
condition of ecstasy for the time by the preaching of some person who is full of
strong emotion himself, and therefore is able to awaken it in his hearers. Some
of the great emotional preachers of the past had that power very strongly
indeed. I do not for a moment say that they did not accomplish a great deal of
good; no doubt they did, but most of their work was confessedly what we should
call astral—it was aimed at the feelings of the people.
Undoubtedly there are people in whom the higher aspiration can be evoked by
working from below, but they are very few and they would be little likely to be
found among the less cultured classes. This is not a narrow or illiberal view to
take, because conditions of birth result from karma; if a person is born in a
class of life in which he is uncultured and uneducated, it is because he has
deserved that birth, and therefore the strong probabilities are that he is a
younger soul than
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one who is born with greater advantages. That is not invariably so, because
there are many exceptions and special cases, but broadly speaking it is true. So
when evangelists of the Moody and Sankey type address themselves chiefly to the
less educated people it is on the whole to be expected that they will arouse
their emotions only, and it is uncertain whether the results will or will not be
permanent. If the impression made is strong enough, the memory of it will
survive even when the emotion dies down, and the person who has been what they
call " saved " may remain in his new and more exalted frame of mind.
These great emotional upheavals are sometimes beneficial, but in many instances
they are harmful. Against the cases of people who have thereby permanently
abandoned their evil life we have to set those others in which serious harm is
done, in which people, for example, are altogether driven off their mental
balance, and become weak-minded or even violently insane. Cases in which lasting
benefit results are not very common; the great majority are affected only
temporarily; the excitement passes and no very definite good remains.
Nevertheless it is a good thing in those cases in which people are raised even
temporarily to a higher level.
Such emotionalism is not permissible, however, to students of occultism, because
they are beyond the stage at which such excitement could advance their progress.
There must be no confusion between emotion of that sort and the exaltation of
the higher planes. People at such revivals often pass into an ecstatic condition
in which
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they certainly lose control for the time. I have myself seen cases in which
people stamped about, shouted loudly, and were so carried out of themselves that
they did not know what they were doing. They say it is all joy; I suppose that
they certainly do feel that, but it is an uncontrolled emotion, and therefore is
to be avoided by the student of occultism.
The man who experiences buddhic consciousness is also carried out of himself,
with a bliss, so intense that words altogether fail to express it; but he never
loses the knowledge that he is himself. He is on a higher level: he is more
himself than he ever was before; he does not lose his self-control. The ecstasy
which he feels may indeed produce by reflection a certain emotion in the
personality—a feeling of most intense joy on all levels, but never an
uncontrolled emotion. It would never lead him into rash or ill-considered
actions, to forget himself or lose his dignity. With the intense exaltation,
with the indescribable bliss of the higher experience, there comes an utter
peace which seems to fill the earth, whereas the lower emotions disturb the
equilibrium to a most extraordinary extent.
A clairvoyant watching a revivalist meeting will generally see that non-human
entities are gathered round it in order to take advantage of the vast waves of
uncontrolled emotion. Emotion is a tremendous force and these waves are, if we
consider actual measurement, things of enormous size and power. They dash and
rush about through the astral world in the neighbourhood, and produce all the
effect there that a great tempest
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would show on the physical plane. There are many astral creatures who revel in
that. They plunge in and feel the greatest delight and excitement because of it.
They neither know nor care whether the emotion is religious feeling or hatred or
love; they want only the tremendous vibration, the swirl and sway of the storm.
These beings take the greatest delight in sweeping round in its vortices, and
being carried away by it very much in the same way that surf-bathers do in the
sea. For that purpose these entities will stir up emotion among human beings as
much as they can; they simply know that here is something which they enjoy
tremendously, so they go to work to intensify it as much as possible. Very
largely they are responsible for the great outbursts of force on such occasions,
and these creatures make it greater just as a school of whales rushing about in
rough water would make it rougher. They have just about the same amount of
intelligence as those animals, so there is nothing very spiritual about it. It
is not, as many people think, a divine afflatus, nor is it exactly dignified to
allow oneself to be the sport of creatures at that level.
Only if with intense exaltation and bliss there comes at the same time a sense
of uttermost calm and peace is one touching higher levels; when there is
excitement and disturbance, and a loss of self-control, one is certainly down on
a lower level.
When the disciple is ready to learn, then he is accepted, acknowledged,
recognized. It must be so, for he has lit his lamp, and it cannot be hidden.
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This is a comforting saying. Disciples are always watched, though many people
find difficulty in realizing this. The Great Ones themselves have explained that
when they look over the world the man who has lit his lamp shows out like a
great flame in the general darkness. They could not miss seeing it. Carefully
they are watching wherever the light is beginning to glow and are trying to help
each little glow to kindle into flame, so that these also may become bearers of
light to the world.
People are apt sometimes to criticize unwisely in this matter. Perhaps it is
natural; but it would be better for them if they did not. I have myself known
cases in which members—generally keenly intellectual people, who were very sharp
in discriminating faults and failings in others—have said: " So-and-so is a
pupil of the Master; I do not see that he is in any way more fit for such a
position than I am myself. I have been so many years in the Society; I have done
such-and-such work, and if such-and-such a man with certain obvious failings may
be accepted, why should not I? "
People who make remarks like those forget the general principle which lies at
the back of all occult progress. Their objection is exactly the same in nature
as that which is so often brought against the law of karma. People say they
cannot see the justice of certain things that have happened to them, and
therefore there is no law of justice. "Justice is not to be had—it is a
delusion." That is precisely what it would be to say, " I have made a machine to
go by hydraulic power, and it
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does not work; therefore there is no such thing as hydraulic pressure." No sane
man would say that; he would begin to look for the fault in his machine, knowing
that the laws of nature are invariable, and mistakes are not made along that
line. No one would take that attitude with regard to a law of physical science,
yet people will do it in connection with the law of karma. If they would begin
with the hypothesis that the law of karma exists, and that it invariably works,
then, when they cannot see how it operates in a particular case, they would
attribute the fault to themselves and their limited vision, and not make so
foolish a mistake as to say that there is no such thing as the law of karma.
In exactly the same way, if people think themselves better in various ways than
others who are selected by the Masters as pupils, they should remember that the
Master makes his selections with unerring judgment. There are no doubt many
things on higher planes which even a Master does not yet know, but quite
certainly with regard to all these lower planes with which we have anything to
do, his knowledge may be accepted as infallible. There are higher Adepts who
stand above the Masters, such as the Manu and the Bodhisattva, the Buddha and
the great Lord of the World, who must know certain things which even our Masters
do not know: that is clear. The Logos of the solar system must know still more,
and beyond that there must be higher Logoi who have yet wider knowledge. But we
may be quite sure of the Master's judgment and accuracy with regard to these
planes which he has fully and
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finally mastered. Therefore, if he chooses a man he is not making a
mistake.
Even in the rare case when a man afterwards falls away and acts unworthily it
does not follow that the Master made a mistake in selecting such a man. The man
must have had the right to that splendid opportunity, and because he had earned
that right the opportunity had to be given him. A vast amount of trouble may
have been taken in the training of such a pupil, and it looks as though it were
wasted; but that is not so. It will all count somewhere, somehow, in the course
of his evolution; that is certain. The Master sometimes offers an opportunity to
a man because he has earned it, although there may be in that man along with
certain good qualities others less desirable, which would make him unsuitable if
they happened to get the upper hand. Nevertheless the offer is made because it
is just that it should be made.
Sometimes there are special links between egos which many lives later culminate
in the close relationship of Master and pupil. There is the well-known case of
our late Vice-President, Mr. Sinnett. Long ago he was a powerful nobleman in
Egypt. His father had built and endowed a great temple; therefore he had a vast
amount of influence, and was practically the- controlling power of that temple.
One of those who are now our Masters was a prisoner of war in Egypt at the time,
and Mr. Sinnett and I were soldiers in the army which captured him. He was a
person of distinction in his own country, and consequently he was assigned to
our
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care, because captives of high rank were very well treated in Egypt, and were
entertained by people of rank corresponding with their own, so long as they did
not try to escape. So he lived in the house of Mr. Sinnett for two years, and
in the course of that time became keenly interested in the occult work of the
Temple, and wished to take part in it. Mr. Sinnett was able to give him the
desired introduction to occult study. He made the most astonishing progress
in it, and in every life thereafter He continued the studies begun in ancient
Khem. In a later life he became an Adept, while his benefactor of Egypt had
by no means reached that level. When in this incarnation he found that he
wanted to spread Theosophical truths in the world, because the time was come
when the world was ripe to receive them, he looked round for someone to do it,
and saw his old friend and benefactor as the editor of a great daily newspaper,
and well qualified to do this very piece of work. He discharged this old debt by
giving him that opportunity. We know how well and nobly he took it. That
shows that one may have made a link far away in the past with one who has since
become an Adept, and that his discharge of the debt naturally takes the form
of giving help and information, and of drawing the man close to him.
So in various ways links may be made, and it may well be that the person who is
chosen as a disciple is by no means perfect, but he could not be chosen in that
particular way if he were not worthy. That he has still certain faults and
failings does not debar him if he
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has other and greater recommendations, if the advantages overbalance the
disadvantages. There are many circumstances which may operate in the taking of a
particular pupil by a Master. We may be quite sure that he cannot be taken
unless he deserves it, but we may not be able to see how he has deserved it. The
converse of that proposition is equally certain—that no one who deserves it can
fail to be observed and be taken.
It is not wise to use this lower mind, which we have developed with so much pain
and trouble, in criticizing the actions of the Masters, who know far more than
we. We may not always be able to understand why they do this or that, but those
who follow them should at least so far trust them as to say: " I know the Master
must be right. I do not see plainly why. As far as I am concerned I know that I
shall be taken when I am ready. My business is to make myself fit for it. In the
meantime, I have no concern with what the Master does with regard to other
people." That is much the wisest.
It is the same with the work we are given to do. If it seems outwardly to be a
failure, we should not allow that to discourage us. We may not have achieved the
result that we expected, but we may have achieved exactly the result which the
Master intended. He does not always tell us all that is in his mind. He will set
us a piece of work to do, and we think that what is to us the obvious result of
that work is necessarily what he is aiming to get from it. It may be that he has
in his mind quite another idea. He may even wish to train the worker in a
particular way—not to be disappointed
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by failure for example; or it might have reference to Something else of which
the worker knew nothing at all. I have had several instances of that in the
course of my experience of occultism. We were told to do certain things, and
supposed them to be aimed at a certain result, which did not come. We wondered;
but in after years it has been seen that something quite different would not
have been attained when it was, if that work had not been done. I have no doubt
at all that in that case the Master gave us the work, not with the object we
supposed, but with the other object of which we knew nothing.
So I would say to those who grumble at what they consider faults in disciples,
and say they ought not to be chosen: " You must be taking a partial view; you
are using your intellect in a line where it is not useful. If you know of the
existence of the Masters, and understand anything of their powers, you may be
very sure that they know exactly what they are doing; and if you do not see what
it is, after all it is not essential that you should. They know; that is the
important thing."
The recognition is not always made known at once to the disciple. The ordinary
course is that a man who has shown himself worthy of the high honour of
disciple-ship is brought somehow into close touch with one who is already a
disciple of his future Master, and the Master through that disciple usually
gives some instructions to him.1 Probably the Master will say to the older
disciple: "Bring so-and-so to me astrally one night." The
1 Ante., Vol. II, pp. 66, 103.
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man is brought, and then the Master says to him: " I have been watching your
work, and I think that you can perhaps make a further advancement. I offer you
the position of a probationary pupil if you will undertake to devote all your
energies, or as much as you can, to the service of humanity, in a direction
which I shall indicate." That is the most usual procedure, but sometimes such a
recognition as that comes only after a very long period. And even then there may
be reasons why the man should know nothing of it in his waking consciousness.
I remember a peculiar case in India. There was an old man, an orthodox Hindu,
who had been living an exceedingly good, useful, and busy life. He was a man
who had shown no selfishness, and had devoted himself as far as he could to the
welfare of humanity. He had first dealt very admirably with all his family
duties, and had then used all his time and money in doing good from his point of
view. He had always held, before the Theosophical Society came to his notice,
that the great Rishis not only must have existed in the past, but must also
exist in the present, and he hoped some day to come near them, but was
quite humble about it. He would say: " I know it is for them to make the
advance, not me. I have sought them, and tried to carry out what must
be their will all these years." At last, one day, one of our Masters spoke to
this man, and said: " For forty years I have watched your work, and in many
cases have guided you, although you knew nothing of it. Now the time has come
when it is best for you that you should know it."
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That is a very striking example, and it does seem to show that there may be many
altruistic people doing work under the direction of our Masters, although they
know nothing of such direction. There may be reasons which in this life make it
undesirable that they should know. We may be very sure that the Master knows
best, and, if he does not choose to declare himself, we need not therefore
suppose that he is not watching.
In these relations the Master always does exactly what is best for the man as
well as what is best for the work, because he has the enormous advantage of
dealing with these things at higher levels, where one has not to balance good
against evil, as in the lower planes, where very often one can do good in one
direction only when one does some harm in another way. This recondite matter was
alluded to by the Manu, when he said that there was no fire without smoke. But
there is fire without smoke, pure good without any adverse consequences or
associations, on the higher levels, because all is working together for the good
of the whole, and the advancement of the whole includes the advancement of the
unit also. Even though it may seem in some cases that harm is done, that a
person is checked, it is because it is best for his progress that such a check
should then come—like the pruning of a tree, which might easily be thought by
the tree to be a cruel act, and yet is emphatically intended for its benefit.
Bat to learn is impossible until the first great battle has been won. The mind
may recognize truth, but the spirit cannot receive it.
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The ego sends impressions through to the lower planes as soon as he begins to
become awakened, but there are many things that stand in his way. He can do
nothing until the astral body is controlled; because if it is a mass of surging
emotions, how can the ego send down through that body any coherent or rational
instruction ? The first great battle is with the passions, with the senses, and
he must conquer them; but when that is done he has still the mind to meet, and
it may be that the mind will prove a more formidable adversary even than the
astral body. Then the Master goes on to speak about the knowledge which is
attained by this intuition. I have already explained that at each Initiation the
candidate receives a key of knowledge which puts a different complexion upon
life for him, shows him a deeper depth, a fuller unfolding, as it were, of the
meaning of the occult teaching.1 Each time, as he receives it, it seems to the
man to be final. He says: " Now I have all knowledge; this is so satisfying, so
complete, it is impossible that there could be more." There is an infinity yet
to be learnt; he is only on the road of learning. As he goes on, more and more
will be unfolded before him. The Master knows precisely at what stage it is most
useful to give certain information. People often think they ought to have it all
at once. That is just as foolish as it would be to expect a teacher to explain
the differential calculus to a child who was only just learning the
multiplication table. He must go through many intervening stages before he can
know even remotely what it means. 1 Ante., Vol. II, p. 351.
285
It is exactly so with us. We are a little apt often— again comes that
intellectual conceit—to think that we know at least enough to be trusted with
all possible knowledge. I can only say that they know better than we what is
best for us, and whatever is best for each one is also that which is best for
the whole.
While many people recognize that that must be so and that of course the whole
must take precedence over any part, they do sometimes feel a little that the
parts are being ignored, that while everything is working for the good of the
whole, yet individual parts often suffer by the way. The world is better managed
than that; actually, that which is best for the whole is also best for each one
of the parts, and not only is justice done to humanity as a whole, but it is so
done as to involve no injustice to any of the units of humanity. Let us be sure
of that, and realize it with absolute certainty; then we shall have no feeling
of doubt or dismay, and whatever happens we shall be able serenely to trust that
it is being done for the best.
Once having passed through the storm and attained the peace, it is then always
possible to learn, even though the disciple waver, hesitate, and turn aside. The
Voice of the Silence, remains within him, and though he leave the Path utterly,
yet one day it will resound, and rend him asunder and separate Ms passions from
his divine possibilities. Then, with pain and desperate cries from the deserted
lower self, he will return.
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In such a case there would be indeed a terrible struggle. Let us not submit
ourselves to that; it is better, while yet we may, to keep ourselves well in
hand and not make ourselves the subjects of such a surgical operation as that of
the tearing apart of the higher and lower self. The struggle with the lower self
goes on all the time. If the disciple allows it to fasten its fangs into the
higher and to draw him away from his greater possibilities, he must inevitably
suffer terribly when the time of separation conies, as it must come, for those
who have entered the stream can leave it only by reaching the further shore.
Therefore I say, Peace be with yon, " My peace I give unto you," can only be
said by the Master to the beloved disciples who are as Himself.
There is a very interesting point in regard to the distinction the Master makes
here. " Peace be with you " is only an ordinary Eastern salutation, though a
beautiful one. When we say " Good-bye," which means " God be with you," it is
the same thing, for God is Peace. The " salaam " of the Muhammadans is again the
same as " salem " in Jerusalem, and Jerusalem means the abode of peace. The
Hindus have the word " shanti" which means peace, and their " namaste," which
means " greetings—or reverence— to Thee " is generally answered by the word "
shanti ".
It is customary to write " Peace be with you " at the end of books in the East
as a kind of final greeting or leave-taking from the author to the reader. But,
as
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the Master says here, " My Peace I give unto you " can only be said under
special circumstances. When Christ said: " Peace I leave with you, my peace I
give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you," * He was speaking to
his own special disciples only. It is said here that the disciple who can
receive the peace of the Master is only that one who is as the Master himself,
that is, an accepted pupil—perhaps even more, he who is the " son " of the
Master. He receives not merely a good wish for peace and blessing, which would
most certainly be an effective thing when pronounced by one who had the power to
pronounce it, but more than that. The Master gives his own peace, the peace
which nothing can disturb, to those who are as himself, who are his own sons,
part of his own nature, sharing with him all that he is in so far as they are
able to receive it. This does not mean, of course, that the pupil is able to
share all that the Master is and has—to do that would mean that the pupil was
himself an Adept—but at least he shares as much as possible.
There are some even among those who are ignorant of the Eastern Wisdom, to whom
this can be said, and to whom it can daily be said with more completeness.
This is a very interesting and remarkable message,
which may well seem strange to us, because there are a
great many of us who do know something of the Eastern
Wisdom, who pay reverence to the great Masters, who
1 S. John, 15,27.
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have for many years belonged to an organization specially devoted to them and
their service, and yet to most of us the Master cannot say, " My Peace I give
unto you," but only to those very few whom he has taken into a much closer
relation to himself. That being so, we yet read that to some who do not know the
Eastern Wisdom at all this inner blessing can be given.
How is that, and who would they be to whom such a privilege is given ? They
would be few only, at the present stage of evolution, but still a few there
undoubtedly are. In order to understand that, let us think what it is that
enables a Master to take a pupil as close to him as that. It is that the pupil
has come into the Master's world, has learnt to look at things as the Master
looks at them, and to put himself into the Master's attitude towards the world
and all that belongs to it. A man may do that without knowing anything about the
Eastern Wisdom or about the Master at all; he may yet without that knowledge be
such a man as would take that high view. The special characteristic of the
Master's attitude is that it is utterly unselfish, that the lower self does not
come into it at all. He looks at everything from the standpoint of the plan of
the Deity, and he never for one moment brings his own personality into the
matter; if anything is helpful for human evolution it is good; if it is a
hindrance to human evolution it is an evil thing.
Although the Eastern Wisdom must bring us perfectly into that attitude if we
understand it quite fully, yet we can see that others ignorant of it might also
reach such an attitude. To be near enough to the Master to receive
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his peace, utter unselfishness is the first and greatest prerequisite. One may
be near the Master, one may receive his peace even, and yet of two who stand
beside him and receive it, one may receive it far more fully than the other. The
ignorant though utterly saintly and unselfish person will receive from the peace
of the Master all he can receive, but the man who, equal to him in this respect,
possesses in addition the higher wisdom, will receive from that peace infinitely
more.
A Regard the three truths. They are equal.
This line is preceded by a triangle which is used as a kind of signature of him
who wrote it, just as the cross is prefixed by Catholic Bishops to their letters
and documents. It is done here to attract special attention.
The three truths to which the Master Hilarion refers are those which he himself
enunciated in another book which He dictated—The Idyll of the White Lotus—which
has not received quite the attention which it deserves. It is an account of a
previous life of his own, which he spent in Egypt when the great Egyptian
religion was in its decadence and was no longer understood. Its splendid and
impersonal worship had degenerated into the following of a goddess who demanded
not so much perfect purity as perfect passion from her people, and so there was
much corruption.
The Master, whose name at that time was Sensa, was a clairvoyant pupil in an
Egyptian temple. The priests of the temple recognized his value as a clairvoyant
and as a medium, but did not wish him to teach true religion
290
to the people, because that would have interfered with the existent
ecclesiastical system, and eventually they killed him. In the course of the
story, after going through many trials he found himself surrounded by a group of
Adepts, among whom was his own Master, who then told him what to teach to the
people—to those who had been misled by wrong teaching. They told him to preach
broad truths only. We have the form in which the three great truths were then
given. They are prefaced by the words: "There are .three truths which are
absolute and cannot be lost, but yet may remain silent for lack of speech." That
means they can never be lost because they are held by the Great Brotherhood,
although they may not at a given time be known in the world because there is no
one to speak them.
The first great truth is: " The soul of man1 is immortal, and its future is the
future of a thing whose growth and splendour have no limit." This great truth at
once does away with all fear of hell and of the necessity of salvation, because
there is absolute certainty of final attainment for every human soul, no matter
how far he may seem to have strayed from the path of evolution.
The second great truth is: " The principle which gives life dwells in us, and
without us, is undying and eternally beneficent, is not heard, or seen, or
smelt, but is perceived by the man who desires perception." That means that the
world is an expression of God, that man is part of Him and can know it for
himself when he is able to raise himself to the level at which it can be
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revealed to him, and that all things are definitely and intelligently moving
together for good.
The third great truth is: "Each man is his own absolute law-giver, the dispenser
of glory or gloom to himself; the decreer of his life, his reward, his
punishment." Here we have a clear statement of the law of karma, the law of
re-adjustment, of balance.
Then follow the words: " These truths, which are as great as is life itself, are
as simple as the simplest mind of man. Feed the hungry with them."
Here we have a scheme of religion that can be taught to every one. It consists
of three main points of belief, simply formulated, yet very carefully expressed
to guard against misunderstanding. They might briefly be stated thus: " Man is
immortal," " God is good " and " As a man sows, so shall he reap". In this
simpler form they are suitable for those who are at the stage where they must
have simple dogma laid down for them. A more developed soul will want to
understand it all. To him can be given the details, and there is enough in those
details to occupy the minds of the wisest of men.
These three truths can be seen; they could be deduced from experience even if it
were possible that they should be lost. Many egos know them. Some know them for
themselves at first-hand, but there are many others who at present, so far at
least as their personalities are concerned, are only in the position of
believing. They accept them because they are told they are true by those whom
they trust, and because they seem to be self-evident —because they cannot
otherwise in any reasonable
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way account for life as they see it. That is a stage, and a very useful stage,
on the way to actual knowing, but of course it is not direct knowledge. I can
say to you, for example, " I know those truths are really so, because on many
planes and through many years I have made investigations and have carried out
experiments which could not have results as they did unless these basic laws
were true." So far only a few can say " I have seen," but all should work on
towards that point, because actual knowledge gives one a far greater power than
even the most definite intellectual conviction.
When a man is speaking of these facts, it is always evident whether he is
speaking of that which he himself knows or only of that which he has heard. It
makes a difference in the magnetic effect. Therefore, for the sake of others it
is of importance that we should know something for ourselves as soon as
possible. It may be but a very small part of the great truth, but if we know it
by our own experience that at once makes it more than probable that all the rest
is also true, and gives us additional confidence. Those who have the perfect
confidence born of knowledge can give help to others which cannot be given until
one knows. It is that which makes our fragments of personal experience so
useful.
There are many people who have at one time or other in vision, in sleep, or in
meditation seen the Master. That is, perhaps, something which could not be
proved to anyone else. People might say to a man who has had this experience: "
Perhaps it was only a hallucination, or imagination "; but he knows perfectly
well that
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it was not anything of the kind. He knows that he did see, and that he also felt
something which made him certain that this was one of our Great Masters. That is
a piece of experience, small, yet far-reaching in its effects. Those who have
been so fortunate as to have had such an experience as that may be deeply
thankful. They know that much at least, and to know one fact belonging to the
higher world at once makes all the rest of the teaching more luminous, and
clearer to follow. So such experiences are not at all to be despised.
There is no harm in the fact that we do not know perfectly. It must be so; it is
in the nature of things. It is when we suppose our knowledge to be complete,
when it is pitifully incomplete, when we think that we know everything and
condemn other men who think differently, not realizing that they may be seeing
another side of a many-sided truth, that we go wrong. Let us by all means cling
to our imperfect knowledge,, but, while trying to increase it whenever we get an
opportunity, let us never forget that it is imperfect, lest we should be led
into the mistake of condemning someone who perhaps knows more than we do. Truth
is deep; truth is often mysterious. It cannot be grasped in its entirety by any
one man nor by any one body or sect of men. We must gradually learn to
appreciate truth, before we can know it in any of its aspects. The truth about
anything is the way in which that thing presents itself to the Logos, to the
Maker of the whole system. He who made it alone understands all, knows all
things as they are. His view is the only perfect view. For us
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truth is relative. We cannot see the whole as He sees it; but although our
knowledge must be imperfect at least it need not be wrong as far as it goes. We
may have so much of the truth about a certain thing that when we come to know
all about it, when we reach Adeptship, we shall not have to correct what we have
previously known, but only to add to it.
It is a very difficult thing to know what one may teach, people outside. It is
good, therefore, to have this authoritative statement from a Master, of certain
things which may be taught generally. We often have to speak about Theosophy to
people who do not in the least take our point of view. In lecturing to the
public one feels at times that it would help to make things clear if one
revealed something of their inner meaning, and yet one hesitates lest one should
do harm.
It is quite obvious that if we attempted to teach them all we know about
Theosophy, many people who heard would not understand a great deal of it. There
are people to whom one feels at once that one could not speak of the Masters,
because the idea would be quite foreign to them. They would be likely to make
some flippant or jeering remark with regard to it, and that would pain us and
would bring exceedingly bad karma to them. The man who speaks evil of the Great
Ones takes upon himself a very serious responsibility, and the fact that he does
not believe in them has simply nothing to do with the result. We may not believe
that a certain piece of metal is hot, but if we take hold of it we shall be
burnt. People who speak evil of those who are
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devoting all their lives and strength to the helping of' the world, are guilty
of the great sin of ingratitude, as well as of that of making a mock of holy
things, which is blasphemy; and the fact that they do not know that the things
are holy does not come into the question at all. So we- have to balance rather
carefully what we say, because the only object in speaking at all is to do good
to the person addressed. We may do him harm instead of good if we put before him
something at which he will jeer or mock.
Remember the saying of the Christ, which is often not well understood, about
casting pearls before swine. This is often taken quite wrongly as a comparison
of the people to swine. That was surely not in the mind of the great Master. He
simply meant that to give the inner truths to people who have not yet the
knowledge to enable them to appreciate them would be as foolish as to cast
pearls before swine. They would probably rush forward expecting to receive
something to eat, and finding that the pearls were not edible, they would
trample them in the mire, and then turn and rend the giver of the pearls because
they had been disappointed in their expectation of food. The pearls would be of
no use to them, however valuable they might be to us. That is generally the
attitude of ordinary people, when we put before them truths which are not
comprehensible to them. They do not see their value; they cast them aside, and
are usually angry with us for giving them something which they regard as
useless.
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It has always been recognized that only simple truths can be given to the great
mass of men, who are as yet not highly evolved. All great religions have had
some special truth which they strongly inculcated, and if any of these truths be
taken in its entirety it will be found that it covers most of the ground. It is
very necessary that certain ideas should be implanted in the minds of the
evolving human egos, so they pass through religion after religion, race after
race, learning something from each-
In Hinduism, for example, the great idea of duty was specially emphasized. It is
obvious that when the thought of duty fills a man's mind it must lead to a good
and carefully ordered life. The Greek religion was one which laid stress on
beauty. The great cardinal fact that was impressed upon the Greek all through
his life was that beauty was an expression of God, and that in so far as a man
could make himself and his surroundings beautiful he brought them nearer to what
the Deity wished them to be, and thus allowed the divine power to manifest
itself more fully through him. So even the smallest object in every-day life was
always beautiful— not necessarily expensive, not difficult to get, but beautiful
in shape and colour. That was the fact which Greece impressed upon the world—the
power of beauty.
In Christianity the 'central idea is devotion. The Christian Church has for
centuries set before itself the idea of producing saints, holy men, good people,
and it felicitates itself and rests its claim to attention upon the saints
already produced. It celebrates their days, and in every way places them on the
highest possible pinnacle.
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Our examination of the history of these saints shows that among them were
included individuals of many different types. Some of them were unquestionably
great, learned and capable men. Others were not that at all, but were quite
ordinary and ignorant, their great virtue being that they were good. Only when
we come to study it deeply do we realize that the Christian religion is intended
not only to feed the fire of devotion, but also to assist its people at all
levels and along all lines.
When we examine other great religions, such as Buddhism or Hinduism, we find
them also prepared to meet their people everywhere. Each of these religions has
certain precepts for the uneducated, by virtue of which they will be helped, if
they follow them truly, to lead a good life. It has also much metaphysical and
philosophical teaching for those who need it. Christianity in its present form
does not really give that. True, there are the writings of the Fathers, and if
we go back to Origen and Clement of Alexandria we find hints of those higher
teachings; we find, for example, the statement that Christianity has its
Mysteries. But the Christianity put before people by any of the great Churches,
such as the Greek, the Roman or the Anglican, is certainly a maimed
representation of what it originally was.
Every true religion must be capable of adapting itself to people at all levels,
of meeting the wise and learned, as well as the ignorant devotee. It certainly
must not exalt the ignorant but devoted man above the wiser, who wants to
understand. Unfortunately there has been a distinct tendency on the part of
Christianity to condemn
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the people who have wanted to know, to disparage their wisdom as merely the
wisdom of this world, and to regard those who take the attitude of a little
child as likely to make more rapid progress. The child soul must behave as such,
and every religion must be prepared to meet and to feed the child soul, but that
is no reason why it should have no stronger food for those who arc more
advanced. The souls who have passed through the earlier stages of growth long
ago in other lives now wish to understand the great Plan—to know something about
the world in which they live and the scheme by which it was made and is kept
going. Many of our Christian brothers have found, with great relief and a
certain amount of surprise, that Theosophy was capable of supplying them with
that knowledge, without destroying their Christianity in any way. There is
nothing in the original Christian teaching which in any way contradicts any
science, although there has been an anti-scientific tendency coupled with
ecclesiastical teaching ever since the Middle Ages. Originally Christianity
answered its purpose quite as well as any of the other faiths; it is only
because it happens to have been especially unfortunate in the loss of the higher
teaching that it distinctly needs supplementing at the present day.
The Chohan then concludes Part I with the words':
These written above are the first of the rules which are written on the walls
of the Hall of
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Learning. Those that ask shall have. Those that desire to read shall read. Those
who desire to learn shall learn.
PEACE BE WITH YOU
PART II
LIGHT ON THE PATH
CHAPTER 1 THE PRELIMINARY COMMENT
C.W.L.—The second part of Light on the Path assumes that the student has passed
the First Initiation; it carries the man on through the steps of the Path
leading up to the Adept level. But a second and higher interpretation of it
begins beyond that, and helps to guide the man who has already become an Adept
on to his next stage. Swam! T. Subba Row, who knew a great deal about these
matters, told me once that there were really seven meanings for this book—seven
ways in which it could be interpreted—all apparently at different levels, and he
said that the highest interpretations carried a man up to the Initiation of the
Mahachohan. That, of course, is dealing with matters which are absolutely
beyond our ken. We could not possibly understand to what it refers at such a
high level, so it is Useless for us even to seek for such an interpretation. It
is possible that we may be able to form some idea of a double meaning, but
anything beyond that will certainly be quite out of our reach.
In what we have already studied we have been told to cast off the lower self—the
personality. In the higher
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interpretation, that would mean casting off the individuality. Just as the first
part in its lowest interpretation was thus intended to produce the union of the
higher and lower self, so in its second interpretation it aims at the unity of
the ego with the Monad; that which is the second interpretation of the first
part must be the first interpretation of the second part, since it follows from
the first. It would be well for us to bear that in mind; then here and there we
may be able to catch a glimpse of what must be the meaning of the next
interpretation higher still.
Out of the silence that is peace a resonant voice shall arise. And this voice
will say: It is not well; thou has reaped, now thou must sow. And knowing this
voice to be the silence itself thou wilt obey.
Thou who art now a disciple, able to stand, able to hear, able to see, able to
speak, who hast conquered desire and attained to self-knowledge, who hast seen
thy soul in its bloom and recognized it, and heard the Voice of the Silence—go
thou to the Hall of Learning and read what is written there for thee.
This is the introduction to this second part, written by the Venetian Master.
First of all, perhaps, one ought to refer to those opening words: " Out of the
silence that is peace a resonant voice shall arise. And knowing this voice to be
the silence itself thou wilt
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obey." There has been much speculation among Theosophists as to the exact
meaning of the voice of the silence, but it is now generally understood that the
expression does not always mean the same thing. The silence is always that which
lies just above the point which the man has reached, and the voice of the
silence is the voice coming down to him from above, the voice of the inner self,
as we have already seen.
In all cases this voice which speaks from above is that which when heard must be
obeyed, and to the newly initiated man (if we take the lower interpretation), or
to him who has attained Adeptship (if we consider the higher interpretation),
this voice says that while he is resting in the enjoyment of this wonderful
peace, it is not well to rest too long. In the silence the man has remained in
wonder at the glory of all he has received by Initiation; he will rest in
contemplation awhile; he will spend some little time in studying everything in
the new light that has come to him. He is now recalled by the voice, which tells
him that he has reaped and now he must sow again. Since the man has reached this
level and gained all that it means in knowledge and certainty and peace, he must
try to communicate these gifts to others. He must not rest satisfied with having
attained them himself.
The Chohan goes on to remind the student of his qualifications: " Thou art now a
disciple, able to stand, able to hear, able to see, able to speak." And the
explanation of the Master is that to be able to stand is
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to have confidence. Now, the man has that confidence because he knows. At the
First Initiation the disciple has received a definite touch with the buddhic
plane. He has had experience in connection with that, not necessarily of very
long duration, but it has been definite, so that he knows for himself that there
is such a reality, and that life is one.
Then comes a long note by the Master Hilarion, and we can see at once from
looking at that note that he is dealing with the whole matter very differently
in this second part. Before, he gave us what we might call a general comment
upon what was said; here he explains practically every word of the text, so that
evidently he regards this as something much more difficult to understand,
requiring explanation rather than mere comment.
He says to begin with:
To be able to stand is to have confidence; to be able to hear is to have opened
the doors of the soul.
The expression " doors of the soul " reminds one of the Pali name given to the
first qualification on the probationary path, which is discrimination between
the real and the unreal. In Pali it is called manodwaravaj-jana, which means "
the opening the doors of the mind" 1 The man's mind becomes open to the
difference between the things which are worth following and the things which are
not, and so they say his mind has opened its doors to receive the truth. At
Initiation he has
1 Ante., Vol. I, Part I, Ch. 2: Initiation and the Approach Thereto.
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to open more doors, those of the soul; in other words, he has to acquire buddhic
consciousness. Then for the first time the man is really a soul, and is looking
at things from the point of view of a soul. Below that level there is
separation, due to matter, so even in the causal body he is still a long -way
from the real meaning of existence as the soul looks at it. But with the
realization of buddhic consciousness the man is drawn into a condition which
differs in kind, not only in degree, from what has gone before. Therefore so
much importance is attached to it. Therefore it is made part of the First
Initiation, though it is quite open to us to attain that consciousness apart
from and before we reach Initiation.
To be able to see is to have attained perception.
Although it is true that the initiate directly sees considerably more than the
ordinary man of the physical world does, it is also that from what he sees he
can infer very much more than can be easily told or accurately understood.
Thoughtful men have long been wondering and discussing and arguing as to whether
or not God exists. No trained clairvoyant ever argues that question, because he
knows. I do not mean to say that he sees God. " No man hath seen God at any
time," you will read in the Christian Scriptures.1 That is not quite true if you
speak of the Solar Logos; but even so it is true for the vast majority of
students. But though most men have never seen electricity they have plenty of
proof that there is such a thing; that we have light,
1 S. John, 1. 18.
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and that our trains are driven by its agency, proves to us that there is such a
force, though we have never seen it. Just in the same way the clairvoyant who
has never seen the solar Deity has yet seen sufficient evidence of his work to
prove that he must exist. That is our position with regard to many Theosophical
doctrines referring to higher matters. We do not always know directly, but we
see results.
No one below the rank of the Adept can see the Monad, but the Arhat may know of
its existence. On the nirvanic plane, which is that next below the habitat of
the Monad, we see a triple manifestation, which we call the triple spirit.1 The
rays which make that threefold manifestation are obviously converging as they
rise to the highest point. We can see that they must become one, though the
actual unity is out of our sight. The phenomena which we see with regard to them
indicate that they can be only three facets of one great body, or great light.
So although we do not actually know by our own sight that the Monad exists, we
accept it on the evidence which we can utterly trust—the testimony of our
Masters—and the phenomena which we can see on the highest plane we can reach
demand that there shall be such a reality as that.
We have been told by these Great Ones of certain things which as yet are out of
our reach, but in every case when we have taken an additional step we have been
able to realize more of those things which have
1 Ante., Vol. I, Part V, Ch. 1: Liberation, Nirvana and Moksha. Vol. III, p.
212, 248.
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been told. This has happened to us over and over again. So although when one
attains the level to which this text refers I do not say that he will see the
Logos, I do say he will see such evidence of His existence as will make it quite
impossible to doubt it. Seeing that, and also the working of the evolutionary
law, one gains absolute certainty that all is well.
A little of the higher sight does bring the certainty that all is well, and that
is a very great thing indeed. I suppose that until one reaches it he hardly
knows what it is—the absolute certainty that nothing can finally go wrong, that
however dark things may seem it is only seeming, and presently the clouds will
break and the everlasting sunshine which has been there all the time will show
through once more.
It is perhaps not so hard with a little practice to think that all is going well
for oneself. As we go through life we meet with all sorts of troubles and
difficulties, and even apart from occultism the theosophically minded man soon
comes to recognize that it is not so much what happens to him that matters as
his own attitude towards the happening—that he can make himself very happy under
circumstances which would make many other people miserable. The reverse is also
true; a man may contrive to make himself unhappy amid circumstances which would
make most other people happy. So it may not be so difficult to come to believe
that all is working for good so far as oneself is concerned; but it is much
harder to believe it for those we love, if we see them getting into trouble,
making mistakes and suffering in
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various ways. It is much harder to believe that all is being properly managed as
regards them, because one naturally feels a protective interest; one wants to
shield them from these blows of karma.
They say that love is blind. It may perhaps blind one a little in that way. My
own personal experience, however, is the other way—that strong affection makes a
person particularly keen-eyed with regard to a fault, in order that one may help
to get it out of the way. The proverb is taken to mean that one does not see the
faults of the person loved; however that may be, when something of the sense of
reality is attained one of the great benefits that one gains from it is that he
is then quite sure, both for himself and for those whom he loves, that all
things are working together for good, and that the eventual result will in every
case be the best that could be gained. It is a great source of peace to have
that certainty.
To be able to speak is to have attained the power
of helping others.
It is. significant that he chooses speaking as the way in which we can most
easily help others. It is true for most of us. We can do various things on the
physical plane in the way of helping others, but perhaps the greatest help which
we as Theosophists can give to others is by speech, or writing, which is only
another form of speech. We can put before them what we know. Very few of us have
direct knowledge of these matters, but we have a certain interior conviction for
which we could not, if pressed back to the ultimate, give an actual
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reason. What gives such tremendous power to what Dr. Besant says is that people
feel when she speaks that she is speaking of that which she knows. She has in
addition the most marvellous eloquence. One cannot hope to attain that in a
short time, for eloquence is not a gift. It has been earned, by very hard work
continued through many lives. She has turned a great deal of her intellectual
power through many lives in the direction of speech. The result of such practice
is that she can do it well. I remember someone complimenting her on her
wonderful eloquence. She replied: " Well, I have been speaking in public for
twelve thousand years; I suppose I ought to know something about it by this
time." It is exactly that practice that has given her such remarkable power, and
it is only by a commensurate amount of work that we can hope to gain it.
However, any of us, without that marvellous eloquence, can speak about the
things which we know, and our conviction will carry confidence to others.
Just in so far as we feel sure ourselves can we impart our conviction to others
and be a real help to them; therefore if it were for that reason alone it is
worth while to seek to attain that conviction. We should study more and more
fully, and not be satisfied with merely superficial views of Theosophical ideas;
we need to live into them. I know there are members of the Theosophical Society
who have belonged to it for twenty years and do not know any more now than the
day they joined. But I also know that a great many of the older members have
gradually lived into the teachings until
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these have become, as it were, part of themselves and they are able to speak
with certainty and indeed, to feel a certainty which the newer students, however
enthusiastic, do not readily acquire. It remains true now, as it was in the days
of old: " If any man will do His will, he shall know of the doctrine, whether it
be of God." l The only way to attain certainty before one can see at all for
oneself is to live as though it were true. In doing that, evidences will
gradually accumulate round one that this is so, and though each one of those may
perhaps seem small in itself, taken together they will constitute a testimony
which one cannot doubt or deny.
To have conquered desire is to have learned how to use and control the self; to
have attained to self-knowledge is to have retreated to the inner fortress
whence the personal man can be viewed with impartiality.
The inner fortress is, of course, the ego in this case. There is a further,
stage where the inner fortress is the Monad, with which the ego must be unified.
I have already explained how the ego puts himself down into the personality. Let
us have it clearly in mind. The Monad puts down a ray of himself—that is about
as near a simile as we can find for it—into the nirvanic plane, the next below
his own. That breaks into three rays and becomes the "triple atma, or triple
spirit, and the three aspects of that descend and manifest on lower planes until
it appears as atma-buddhi-manas, which taken
1 S. John, 7, 17.
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together make the ego. Now that ego is only a partial manifestation of the
Monad, a small fragment of him, as it were, but nevertheless it behaves as
though it were an entirely separate entity, just as the ordinary person thinks
of himself as the separate entity, and is inclined to think of the soul as
something which floats vaguely over him, like a captive balloon.
I believe that all Theosophists who have not already done so, would do well to
read Human Personality by Prof. Myers, because it is a most remarkable
exposition of the relation between the higher and the lower, and it is
especially interesting to our members, because he began as a sceptic and ended
by having to admit apparitions, and in point of fact all that necessarily
follows. I have seen him often. He used to be with Madame Blavatsky a great
deal. He was much impressed by what she told him, but never got entire
satisfaction. He was always seeking something definite from his intellectual
point of view, and that is what practically cannot be given; it is at any rate
overwhelmingly difficult to give in regard to anything on higher planes. One
cannot express the functions or powers or conditions of the higher planes in
terms of the lower at all. This is as impossible as to give the contents of a
cube in square measure. The difference is precisely that kind of difference.
Prof. Myers was seeking the expression of the higher world in terms of the
lower. We can approximate; we can aim at it, and try to stimulate the intuition
in our readers and hearers, but we cannot tell it in so many
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words—not because we are told we must not, but because it cannot be done. People
must develop the higher faculties in order to see* on the higher planes. We may
tell them all we can about the astral world; when they reach that astral world
in full consciousness, they will say: " The half has not been told me." That is
true, because it cannot be told. These higher things cannot really be known down
here, but at least partially to know them is already a very great comfort and
advantage. We may not fully understand, but we know enough to be sure there is
no need for fear and doubt, and that at least is a great and glorious benefit
which Theosophical study gives us.
To have seen thy soul in its bloom is to have obtained a momentary glimpse in
thyself of the transfiguration which shall eventually make thee more than man.
When a man reaches the buddhic consciousness he gains that wider insight which
is more than insight because it is also feeling. And it is so wonderful,
something so entirely new in the man's experience, that the Master here refers
to it again and again in different ways, approaching it from different points of
view. To have the first glimpse of that which shall make thee more than man is
to have this first touch of the unity with the Logos, that is, with the God of
the solar system. But it must be remembered that at Initiation a man does not
attain the full buddhic consciousness, nor does he in any way develop a buddhic
vehicle.
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The pupil has already practised himself in the development of the buddhic
consciousness so that he has usually had experiences at that level. But if he
has not, his first experience now takes place, and that is directly related to
the fetters which he is beginning to cast off. The first three which have to go
are the delusion of self, doubt and superstition. -These are all dispelled by
that glimpse. He can have no delusion of separateness when he has recognized the
unity. He can no longer doubt the facts. He is told he must not doubt evolution,
the great law of karma, and the fact that the highest advance is to be attained
by holiness. It is assuredly true—the man cannot doubt those things. He can see
them in operation, and because he is standing there where many ways meet he
knows that there are many roads and that they all lead to the one Bliss; he can
no longer hold to the superstition that any one form of belief is necessary to
one who has attained that level. He stands upon the mountain peak and sees all
the roads which lead up to it, and sees that all are good. So great stress is
laid upon this buddhic experience; from any points of view it is the attainment
of " a glimpse of that which shall make thee more than man ".
For one who has attained Adeptship it means still very much more than that,
because he has definitely become one with a certain manifestation of the Deity.
As He shows Himself in that set of planes which all taken together make the
prakritic plane, the lowest of the great cosmic planes, He shows Himself as
Three and yet One, the Ever Blessed Trinity which is yet a glorious Unity.
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Again and again we are told that we must keep these two ideas always in our
minds when we think of Him, that we must " neither confound the Persons nor
divide the Substance", but must try as well as we may to grasp the idea of this
great Mystery of the Three who yet are One, which cannot be perfectly understood
or explained. So much importance has at all times and in almost all religions
been attached to a comprehension of that Mystery that it is clearly of great
practical importance. Many thousands of people have said that all such doctrines
as these are merely of theoretical value, that they make no difference in
practical life. That is not quite true. It is unquestionably a necessity that
one should understand a little of this at least. All of it we cannot grasp, but
at least we should know that there are these three lines of force, and yet that
all the force is one and the same; without knowing that we cannot grasp the
method by which our world came into existence nor can we understand man, because
" God made man in His own image " and man therefore has this same
characteristic—that he is three and yet one. Now the Three and the One in our
cosmic prakritic plane show themselves by an arrangement very similar to the
atma-buddhi-manas in man—or, it would be more correct to say that ours resembles
That.
We have the highest Spirit on the highest of our planes, and then the second
Aspect of that Spirit which descends one plane—and so has within itself two
qualities, that on the higher plane and that on the lower. People speak of it as
dual; in Christianity we hear of
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Christ as " God and man " and in The Secret Doctrine we read that' "
Father-Mother spin a web "-1 That aspect is always two-sided: it is equal to the
Father as touching His Godhead, yet when it descends one plane it is inferior to
the Father as touching His Manhood. Yet these two are not separate, but they
make one Christ, and this Christ is one with the Father.
Then there is the Third Person of the Blessed Trinity. Descending to the second
plane and standing there level with the Son, and then descending one stage
further and manifesting in the higher part of what we sometimes call the
nirvanic or atmic plane, still beyond anything we can reach, He abides there.
Then it will be seen that there are three lines making all together a triangle.
We have the horizontal line which connects the three Aspects or Persons at their
own level, then there is the perpendicular of the triangle—-but coming down in
this case from what we may call the base instead of going up to it—which links
together the three different states or aspects of the Three Persons; then there
is the hypotenuse of the triangle. Now that line, the hypotenuse of the
triangle, the square of which is equal to the sum of the squares on the other
two sides, represents the Deity. To us down below it represents the Three
Persons as Persons, and yet links them together into one.
A man attains Adeptship when he raises his ordinary consciousness to the
nirvanic level, and the very fact which differentiates him and an Adept is that
he has unified the Monad with the ego. Since, then, he has
1 Op. cit., Vol. I, pp. 59, 111.
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become one with the Monad, he has already reached the level of the third or
lowest manifestation of the Deity. Therefore that showers itself upon him in the
manner which is typified by the description of Pentecost. After he has passed
through the crucifixion and the resurrection which typify the Arhat level, he
has before him the ascension, and after the ascension comes the descent of the
Holy Ghost. In the symbol as it is given to us the Christ ascended; and the Holy
Ghost descended upon the apostles, according to the story in which it is put
before us, independently of the Christ, and after He had left. But in the great
Gnostic doctrine in the Pistis Sophia it is said that Christ stayed eleven years
after His ascension, teaching His people, whence it will be seen that the
descent of the Holy Ghost took place not after but very decidedly during His
presence with His church. It must represent the attainment of Adeptship of the
those who are typified as the apostles (whoever they really may have been),
because " tongues of fire sat upon them "; a statement which points very closely
to certain phenomena well known in the East.
Those who have seen statues of the Lord Buddha or any of the great saints or
deities of India will have noticed that there is often a curious little double
dome at the top of the head. Very few have any conception of what it really
means. There is at the top of the head a certain chakra spoken of sometimes as "
the thousand-petalled lotus ". In the ordinary man it is a vortex or depression
in the etheric body, but when a man attains to a certain high level he is able
to turn that outward instead of
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inward, and make of it a mound instead of a depression. That is what they are
trying to represent when they depict the Lord Buddha with that curious little
double dome rising on the top of the head. That would glow and would give much
the impression of a flame of fire. So " tongues of fire " is by no means a bad
poetical description.
The other strange phenomenon which is described in connection with that descent,
the fact that they who spoke were heard by every man in his own tongue, is not,
so far as we know now, a necessary concomitant of Adeptship, but it does belong
to a higher stage. I myself have known one instance of this phenomenon. It would
appear that it descended upon those apostles at that time, if we are to take the
record as representing an historical fact.
Clairvoyantly we have not seen the apostles arranged in that way. It is not that
there was no such person as Peter, but there were many Peters. That was the
title given to the head of each church—petros, a rock upon which the church was
built—because the leader of the church was the rock upon which it arose. It is
not an inapt symbol; for we know how very often Theosophical Lodges and other
organizations depend upon one person in just that way. It would seem that in the
old days the same thing held good. There were those who could lead, and where
there is a leader there will always be followers. So his knowledge is the rock
on which that particular church is built. For the rest, we have not investigated
sufficiently closely to speak with precision, but one
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cannot but doubt very much of this story, especially as Origen especially warned
us not to take it as history, and compared it with the story of Hagar and
Ishmael, of which it is written in the Bible: " Which things are an allegory". 1
We obtain a much wider and more useful view of all these things if we apply that
idea to them, because, as Origen puts it, " Whether these things happened in
Judea or not, it is at least certain that through all eternity they are
happening in the lives of Christian men," and that is the important side of the
occurrence, not the material event.
Thus the Adept becomes one in consciousness with the Third Person of the Blessed
Trinity. That must be something like the way in which, a whole plane lower, we
find ourselves attaining to unity of consciousness; we find that others seem
part of ourselves when we reach the full consciousness of that nirvanic level;
all alike are then seen as facets of the One.
To recognize is to achieve the great task of gazing upon the blazing light
without dropping the eyes, and not falling back in terror, as though before some
ghastly phantom. This happens to some, and so when the victory is all but won it
is lost.
It sounds very strange that any at such a height should fall, and yet some do.
Before that level is reached all possibility of fear ought to have been entirely
transcended, but there are those who shrink from these
1 Galatians, 4. 24.
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magnificent developments because they fear to lose their individuality. The same
thing at a much lower level confronts a man after death. There are many who
cling intensely to physical life, feeling certain of no other life than that.
When the etheric double, which is composed of physical matter, is drawn out from
the dense body, such a man, in his astral body, clings to the etheric
counterpart which still surrounds him, instead of letting it dissipate as it
should, and so he lays up much trouble for himself. He lives in the " grey
world", as it is sometimes called.
We find the same phenomenon at this higher level. The man through all his
incarnations has had a causal body; he identifies that causal body with his
individuality, and shrinks from losing it. The bliss and the infinite light of
the buddhic plane loom before him, but he can reach it only by dropping his
causal body, and that terrifies him sometimes. He is afraid that in losing that
he will lose all, and will be merged into that infinite light, so he falls back
at the very threshold. He fears the entire novelty of merging in union. He does
not know that when he has so merged he will still feel himself just as much as
before, and will feel not that the drop has been merged into the ocean but that
the ocean has been poured into the drop.
Occasionally we have other examples of that at lower levels. The man functioning
in his mind body is sometimes afraid to let it go and to sink back into the
causal body, which is no longer concrete, but abstract; so at that stage he
halts and hesitates, and fears to pass. The
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progress of the person in any of these cases depends upon the power behind, the
tremendous enthusiasm and devotion which is carrying him through; since that is
the propelling force, for the man to hesitate means that that enthusiasm fails,
since fear and enthusiasm of that kind cannot exist together. The moment he
allows himself to fear, by that very thought he shrinks back and falls away, and
has no longer the place which he had attained.
There is a certain justification for the shrinking back in some cases, and I
think that the ground for it is that if a man goes beyond the level at which he
can be conscious he falls into a trance and loses himself. In India men talk of
going into samadhi. We wondered what stage this could be, and identified it with
various levels, one after another, and then found that it was not constant. It
took a long time to discover that samadhi is a different thing for different
people. It means the condition just beyond the level where the man is capable of
retaining consciousness. For a savage whose consciousness is clear only on the
physical plane, the astral plane would be samadhi. For most of those of our race
who have not studied these matters, to enter into the causal body would be
samadhi, because they would not be sufficiently conscious for the experience to
be of any use to them. Many of us, if we could succeed in forcing ourselves into
the buddhic plane, would be unconscious at that level. That would mean that when
we presently drifted back into our lower vehicles, we should come back without
any definite additional knowledge. We
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should arrive with the sense of great bliss, a sensation of having bathed in all
sorts of intangible glories, but with no definite knowledge and no new power of
doing anything of use.
This kind of samadhi—a condition just beyond your consciousness is not
encouraged by our Masters. Those Great Ones would say: " By all means attain the
very highest level you can reach, but do it consciously; work your way up
gradually, do not leap into it. Be careful; push steadily up, keeping your
consciousness all the time you do it." There are possibilities which might be
said to be dangerous; nothing is actually dangerous, because at those higher
levels one has not a separate life to lose in the same way that one has down
here, but it is quite possible to be swept out of the line of evolution if one
makes rash experiments. Yet this is not probable for the ordinary student,
because he is working steadily away at levels which he knows, and aims at
attaining.
The fact of the possibility of falling back—fearing to face the higher
developments—was put strongly before us in the initiations of the ancient
Egyptian Mysteries. The candidates were taught that in the pursuit of knowledge
they must be neither rash nor fearful; when the candidate was brought to the
door of the crypt or underground hall in which these great ceremonies were held
he received a practical lesson in that way, for, as he entered, a sword was held
in front of him touching his breast, to typify that he must not rush rashly
forward in search of those mysteries, and at the same time his conductor
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led him by means of a rope thrown round his neck, so that if he had been
frightened and rushed backward he would have injured himself. Afterwards this
was explained to him. He was told that a man must have quiet confidence; he must
never rush rashly into something which he did not understand, nor on the other
hand must he draw back in fear when he encountered something which seemed
terrible to him.
Our great founder, Madame Blavatsky herself, whom none could accuse of lack of
courage, who dressed as a man and fought under Garibaldi in 1864, told me that
when she was first taken into the presence of the Lord of the World, the One
Initiator, the great Spiritual King of the World, she fell upon her face and
could not look at Him, because of the tremendous power and majesty in His face.
It does not affect all candidates in at all the same way, but yet, if that were
the result on a person so entirely dauntless as Madame Blavatsky, one may
understand that it is no slight test to be brought face to face with the
representative of the Solar Logos on this planet; it is a tremendous experience.
Those who become pupils of the Master will one day in due course be led by the
Master up the path which leads to Initiation, and then they must face the One
Initiator, not indeed at the first step, nor even at the second, but at the
third and fourth. But before that comes they will have had so many experiences
on the way to it that probably they will be to a great extent prepared; so had
Madame Blavatsky, yet what I have said is what she told me. Although I entirely
agree with
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her that that face is full of majesty and might—quite incredible power, beyond
anything that you can imagine of power—yet it is also so full of love that it
seems to me that one could not feel fear in His presence, nor I think did Madame
Blavatsky, but simply awe so great that she felt as though the light were
dazzling and not to be faced—she felt it too great for her.
But what is spoken of here is not the meeting with the One Initiator, but the
meeting with one's own higher self—the entrance into that wider spiritual realm.
Men do shrink back from that, as I have said, because they fear that when they
plunge into that shining sea they may never come back again, that the
individuality may be lost. A man who thinks would know that many others have
plunged into it and have not been lost, but one does not always think at such
moments, but acts perhaps rather by instinct. One must endeavour so- to arrange
one's instinctive action that it will be reasonable and right action. We must
not shrink back before the divine, whether it shows itself in ourselves or in
any other. It says here that some have done that, and so^ when the victory was
almost won, it was lost. That would be sad. But we should not let ourselves be
deceived by the manner in which it is put.
Often we are warned that the higher a man rises the further he may fall. There
are several reasons for that. One is that he may misuse the divine force which
has come to him; the other is that he may fall into such a condition as to cause
a leak in the channel which is composed of a number of disciples, including
himself.
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The Great Ones send out a huge wave of force through such a channel, and cannot
recall it. If the channel becomes defective a great portion of the force may be
lost. It is not always a vast outpouring in one direction —sometimes some of it
goes in one way and some in another, to do different things—and only if all the
various people who form the channel stand firm in their special lines is success
assured. It would be a sad thing if one should fail, and so cause a leakage,
which would be very serious on account of the great pressure of the force
behind, and would result in a fall for that man. Again, for one to shrink back
from good work within one's power through fear of the responsibility also
involves a fall. The further a man climbs the further he may fall, if he falls
to the bottom; it would be a very sad thing that a man should fall back at this
high point, but it is very unlikely that one who had climbed so high would fall
to the bottom. We must not get the impression that a fall even such as is
described in our text is fatal. " Who mounts may fall, who falls will mount; the
wheel goes round, unceasingly." 1 There is no fatal fall, because it is God's
will that every man shall progress; therefore every man will do so, and it is
only a question of the rate at which he moves.
For such a man to lose his position would be a great waste of high opportunity,
but it would not throw him back to the beginning. It would mean that he must
work deliberately to develop within himself the consciousness of his own
divinity, and learn to trust it.
1 The Light of Asia, Book the Eighth.
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That would not be at all easy, of course, because a man who had lost control of
himself at a critical moment, who had lost his nerve, would find it difficult to
regain it. In climbing, if a man looks down and sees a great gulf below him, he
will probably become frightened and fall, but the man who has never been
frightened would be very likely to go on to the end and not have any fear
whatever. The man who has once lost his nerve through looking down will take a
long time to go safely on his way, but I do not want anyone to think that the
man who falls will not recover. It is a sad pity; he ought to have known better;
one cannot help seeing and saying that; but he will recover himself and go on
again sooner or later.
It is very easy to say that one should have perfect confidence in one's
divinity, but it is a more difficult matter when one comes face to face with
some of these great trials; if there is a fall at least one may be sure that the
work done still counts, so there is no possibility of a fatal final fall. It is
something like failing for an examination on the physical plane. It means a good
deal of trouble, but the man still has all the knowledge he gained in working
for the examination. When he is able to try again he is tolerably certain to
succeed.
It sometimes seems very sad when a man who is making good occult progress
suddenly dies; one is apt to say: " What a pity; if he had continued at that
rate he would probably have reached Initiation in this life." But what happens
is karma and is for the best, and he will not lose what he has gained. The Self
retains all it
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has achieved. What it will have to do is to bring a fresh physical vehicle into
subjection, but it will be very easy for it to do so up to the point it has
reached, and only after that the difficulties will-commence again.
To hear the Voice of the Silence is to understand that from within comes the
only true guidance; to go to the Hall of Learning is to enter the state in which
learning becomes possible. Then will many words be written there for thee, and
written in fiery letters for thee easily to read. For when the disciple is
ready, the Master is ready also.
We have already seen that the hall of learning begins on the astral plane, the
lowest plane upon which you can learn anything practically with regard to the
higher states. That does not mean that there is nothing to be learnt on the
higher levels, in the heaven-world, for example; there is very much to be
learnt, but for the ordinary man the astral plane is his hall of learning, and
when out of his physical body in that astral world he will receive much of the
teaching that must be given to him.
There are very many students who do not quite understand what it means to be
taken as a pupil by a Master. Some seem to expect that if that great privilege
came to them they would be constantly in receipt of teaching from the Master,
that he would especially instruct them with regard to minute details of their
progress. When the Master takes pupils on probation, it means much more that he
watches them in ordinary life than that he specially teaches them anything. One
main object, then,
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is to have the whole detail of the pupil's life and thoughts and feelings before
him, so that he may know whether he can usefully take that pupil into the closer
relationship. He must know that before he takes a further step, otherwise it
might cause him a great deal of trouble, and it would not be worth his while
from the point of view of the work. While he is on probation the pupil may be
used as a channel for force—that often happens —but it is only when the closer
link is made that he is in constant communication with the Master, and even then
he will not necessarily know of the communication. He may feel sometimes that
the force is flowing through him, and a wonderful experience it is, a great
privilege and delight to be used for the dissemination of the Master's force,
but he will not be instructed by the Master except on very rare occasions.
In most cases an elder pupil is appointed to look after the neophyte and to give
him such instruction as is necessary.1 In my own case, Madame Blavatsky taught
me very much on behalf of the Master, but I was separated from her for some five
years and sent out to India when she was in Europe. Consequently, it was
impossible for her, except by occasional letters and on the astral plane
sometimes, to give me any help. There-fore I was put into the care of Swami T.
Subba Row. He was an exceptionally patient teacher as to all the detail, and so
I was greatly helped by him.
In those days I saw my own Master only occasionally, and even when I did see him
it was not usually anything 1 Ante., Vol. II, pp. 67, 103.
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in the way of teaching that he gave me, but rather instructions as to something
he wanted me to do. But in process of doing the work one gained a vast amount of
knowledge and training. The attempt to do some service, even without knowing how
at first, shows one in what directions one is lacking. One then sets to work to
fill those gaps, so as to be able to do the next piece of work better; and I
think I may say for myself that it was in that way that I learnt most of what
came to me. I would invent a way somehow or other to do the thing, and then see
where the method might be improved, until I came to know how to put into
practice the higher methods such as Swami T. Subba Row could give me. But it
meant a great deal of hard work, of strain, and often very slow development.
Still, it had to be done and it was done, and I think that is the way all pupils
are trained. They will be given a piece of work to do and in the doing of the
work they will learn how to do greater work. But on this great subject of the
relation between Master and pupil I have written at length in The Masters and
the Path.
Various possibilities of learning open before the pupil. Many of them are
equally open to any of us on the astral plane if we choose to take advantage of
them. We sometimes go to lectures on the physical plane in order to learn
something about Theosophy, because some people learn more easily by having facts
told to them in that way, whereas other people learn more easily by taking a
book and reading on the subject. For those who like the spoken word there are
always lectures in occultism.
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Some of those who are workers and helpers in the astral world devote most of
their time to that branch of work. Our former Vice-President, Mr. A, P. Sinnett,
used to take that as his share of the astral plane duties. He did not as a rule
plunge into the ordinary work of the invisible helpers, but instead of that he
had a department of his own, and was always to be found giving instruction upon
Theosophy to anyone who in that vast astral world would care to listen. In that
way he brought many people, both dead and living, into touch with these great
truths, for he happened to have a certain dogmatic method of stating his points
which many people found very useful and easy to follow.
CHAPTER 2 RULES 1 TO 4
C.W.L.—In the last chapter we considered what is really a preface to the second
part of the book, but now we come to the rules. Up to Rule 12 these are numbered
in the same manner as in Part I: Rules 1 to 3, 5 to 7, and 9 to 11 belong in
sets of three to the ancient palmleaf manuscript, and Rules 4, 8 and 12 are
comments by the Chohan. Further on the numbering follows a different plan.
In this chapter we will take Rules 1 to 3, and I will divide up the comment of
the Chohan, which is Rule 4, into its three portions, and deal with them along
with the rules to which they apply.
1. Stand aside in the coming battle, and though thou tightest be not thou the
warrior.
He is thyself. Yet thou art but finite and liable to error. He is eternal and is
sure. He is eternal truth. When once He has entered thee and become thy Warrior,
He will never utterly desert thee; and at the day of the great peace He will
become one with thee.
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The disciple must fight. He must throw himself into the evolution that is going
on around him. He must struggle on the side of the spirit. Spirit is gradually
learning to use matter; having mastered it at a certain level it rises out of
that to conquer a higher plane of matter, and to learn to use that. It is in
process of dominating matter at all levels. This- is going on all around as well
as within us; so we enlist ourselves in this struggle, to smooth the way of the
evolutionary forces.
We must make the personality stand aside in this strife for the progress of
evolution; he must not come into the fight at all. The personality must be used,
because it is only through that as an instrument that we can reach other people
in the world, but we must not let the personal self obtrude itself. On each of
the planes of personality one must get rid of the entanglement, while retaining
the power. So we withdraw ourselves gradually from the physical, astral and
mental bodies and yet retain the ability to function in them.
The higher interpretation of this aphorism applies when the personality has been
set aside, and the man is at one with the ego. Then he learns that the
individuality must be put aside, and looks for the consciousness of the Monad.
The Monad must be allowed to work through the ego.
That the warrior is eternal and sure may be taken as relatively true of the ego
in relation to the lower self. We may take it as absolutely true with regard to
the Monad in relation to the ego. The ego, as has been
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said, may often make mistakes at an earlier stage, but he is far less likely to
do so than is the personality. The Monad makes no mistakes; but on the other
hand, if one may venture to speak of the Monad as though one understood him when
really one does not, one might say that the Monad's knowledge of conditions down
here would probably be somewhat vague. His instinct cannot but be on the side of
right, for he is divine. He is eternal and is sure, as is said here, but it may
be that the views taken both by the Monad and the ego are often general, and in
our efforts to apply them on this plane we may make errors, because the whole
purpose of descent into matter is to gain the precision and accuracy which
result from perfect acquaintance with lower conditions. Since their evolution is
not complete both the Monad and ego have not yet this accurate knowledge. They
are for us the guides; one must not do other than obey them; but even these
guides are themselves unfolding.
On the higher level the day of the great peace will be the attainment of
nirvana. At the lower level it means the unification of the lower and the higher
self.
2. Look for the Warrior, and let him fight in thee.
Look for him, else in the fever and hurry of the fight thou mayest pass him; and
he will not know thee unless thou knowest him. If thy cry reach his listening
ear, then will he fight in thee, and fill the dull void within. And if this is
so, then canst
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thon go through the fight cool and unwearied, standing aside and letting him
battle for thee. Then it will be impossible for thee to strike one blow amiss.
That seems a curious thing to say about the higher self, but it is true; he is
raying out splendidly, but indefinitely. Until one can see the ego in men one
has no conception of how great a being an ego really is, how infinitely wiser
and stronger than the incarnate entity. Still, there is no need for anyone to be
proud or conceited about the fact that he is a very fine person, a magnificent
person, at a much higher level, for so is every other soul of man. Every one is
in reality very much better than he ever seems to be. The greatest saint can
never fully express his ego; he is always on that higher plane a still greater
saint than he can ever be down here. Therefore We must try to let this higher
part of ourselves play through us. This ego is far finer, far better than the
personality, but he puts forth the personality in order that he may evolve, to
become himself more nearly perfect. He requires that evolution, so we must not
make the mistake of regarding the ego as perfect; he is not. What he needs
mainly for his evolution is definiteness, accuracy. He is magnificent but, if we
may venture to say so, vague in his magnificence.
He desires-to develop through that fragment of himself which is incarnated down
here. He knows how to descend, but until he is himself to some extent developed
he does not know how to guide the lower self. It is
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through the experiences of the lower self down here that he will learn how to do
the things which he desires. His desire is evolution; he puts some of himself
down, a tip of a finger, as it were into lower planes; that finger tip learns
definiteness, but when it returns into him at the end of one short cycle of
physical, astral, and mental life, what it takes back is only, if one might put
it materially, a small amount of definiteness. Remember how the group soul has
been gradually tinged by the experience of the different animals.1 A lion, a cat
or a dog may go through certain experiences and acquire certain qualities which
may be very well marked in it as an individual. There may be enough of courage
to make a remarkably courageous animal of that one cat, dog or lion, but when
you put that amount into a group soul for a hundred there is only a hundredth
part for each, so it needs a great many lives directed along similar lines in
order that the quality may be strongly developed in the group soul as a whole.
Though the ego is an individual and is quite different from the group soul, yet
in a way the same thing is true of him. He develops accuracy in a personality,
but when that goes back into the ego the same amount has to be spread over the
whole causal body. The amount which was quite sufficient to make one personality
very accurate, when it goes into the ego is only a fractional part of his
requirements. He may need many lives to develop enough of the quality to make it
prominent in
1 See A Textbook of Theosophy, Chap. IV, for an account of group souls. The
subject is too big to be explained here.
337
the next life, since the ego does not keep a particular piece of himself which
is to be the personality, but out of the whole mass of himself he puts down
something, yet not the same piece twice.
A highly developed ego, who has already acquired a great deal of accuracy, will
understand the personality, and will work through it intelligently and try to
make it an efficient instrument. But for the ordinary man of the world that is
not in the least so. Therefore the personality must call out to him and then
look for this influence. If the man down here, wanting to help in the Plan, does
this, the ego instantly responds, and immediately pours himself out through the
personality, who should then stand aside and let the warrior fight in him.
The ego has many splendid possibilities, which only need awakening. That is one
reason for the great advance which is often made by a rough man who goes to war
and perhaps loses his life for his convictions, or in any case stands a very
definite risk of doing so. To do a big thing like that—to set an ideal above his
personal comfort, above the possibility of frightful pain, above the
possibility, nay, even the probability, of death, wakens in the ego a very large
response.
I have heard people argue somewhat against that. People have written to me
saying: " You say that a soldier gains spirituality, but how can that be,
because the soldier goes out inspired rather by hatred than by any noble
feeling? " Even if it be true that he has such a feeling against the enemy, if
he has volunteered to fight for what he considers the right, he does a big,
noble
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and unselfish thing, and that reacts on the ego and awakens it more than almost
any other single action would be likely to do. Sometimes in private life a man
has an opportunity for sacrifice which is greater than the risk of his life; he
may, for example, devote the whole of his time to the uncomplaining and
unselfish service of another, foregoing amusements and change, and watching by a
sick bed, in a case of chronic illness-Such sacrifices are greater even than the
dramatic heroism of the soldier. But they are only few, while in time of war
many thousands go forth and take the large opportunity. The man makes a
wonderful effort of self-sacrifice; then the ego is aroused, and he pours down
in response a splendid flood of devotion, capable of causing still more
consistent sacrifice in another life. An effort of courage is perhaps required;
that evokes from the ego a steady stream of courage, and so the man who loses
his life shall find it, as Christ said long ago. He who has lost his life in
such a way as this has certainly gained a much fuller life for his next
incarnation which will unquestionably be a bigger personality. The ego will be
able to put down more of his power, and will also be much more able to direct
the personality.
Another way in which " in the fever and hurry of the fight thou mayest pass him
" becomes possible when men are devoting themselves to good works, and they
permit the personality to come up in them. It ought never to happen with
students of occultism, but it does. There is a vast amount of good work being
done in the Theosophical Society, and quite assuredly those who do it ought
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to be entirely above any sort of personal feeling in regard to it; but often
they are not. A person feels: " This little bit of work is mine, and therefore
it must take precedence of other work. It is not that I am doing it for my own
satisfaction and therefore do not want to see anybody else doing it; but I want
to do it because I am quite sure they could not do it as well." Such an attitude
is full of personal aggrandizement. To have any connection with work like ours
develops a person, makes his feelings keener, and ought to make his intellect
brighter; the very fact that it has this stimulating influence tends to
accentuate the personality, but that is no excuse for the folly of permitting it
so to do.
The same thing occurs in other organizations. In my younger days as a priest I
had a great deal to do with church work of all sorts, including the training of
choirs. The people concerned in that work are all labouring directly for the
Church of God, supposed to be devoting themselves to something higher than the
average man outside, yet I think there is no other set of people among whom
there is so much squabbling as there is among church workers and choirs. No one
who has had to train them but will recognize that it is a fact. It is sad but
true, and it ought not to be so. Yet it occurs precisely because they have been
working in- connection with something a little above the ordinary level, and in
doing that the life in them has been roused more than is usual.
The disciple has to take care that his personality does not come up in these
good works, because if it does he
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will lose sight of the higher guide. The ego can fight in him and work through
him only when he is devoted to the work, not to his personal share or part in
it. He may forget the higher self in a rush of personality, and then he will not
be in a condition to receive his help, to listen to a hint from him; thus he may
for the time shut himself off from the ego and lose the great benefit of his
help. The vagueness of the higher self, unless he is a developed ego, would
perhaps preclude him from indicating a particular line of work, but when the
personality, being more definite, has found the work, the ego can and does pour
himself down into it, and does enable him to do it in a much better manner and
in an altogether grander frame of mind than the personality could attain
unaided.
But if thou look not for him, if thou pass him by, then there is no safeguard
for thee. Thy brain will reel, thy heart grow uncertain, and in the dust of the
battle-field thy sight and senses will fail, and thou wilt not know thy friends
from thy enemies.
All that is described here does occur when the personality does not look for the
higher guidance. He does not know his friends from his enemies; he is carried
away by the swirl of passion, and under its influence will believe what is said
by someone who is not in the least a real friend. One sees that often in daily
life; if a person is excited or angry or jealous, he will listen to the
ridiculous gossip of those who call themselves friends but in reality are not
friends at all.
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A gossip, a mischief-maker, is no one's friend; he is the worst enemy to those
to whom he speaks. It is a very sad thing indeed for one who contacts a person
of that sort, and believes what is said by him. As soon as we hear a person
beginning to speak censoriously about someone else it is best to avoid him as
soon as possible, because we may be quite sure that we shall learn nothing of
any good, and also that the person who speaks wrongly about another to us will
speak in the same way about us to the next person whom he or she happens to
meet. Therefore it is better to have nothing whatever to do with these gossiping
people, and not to be in the least influenced by anything that they say. Often
when a person hears what they say he replies, " I do not believe it; I will not
pay attention to it," but all the same he is somewhat affected by it; he lets it
recur to his mind again and again, and wonders whether what was said could have
had any foundation in fact, instead of at once treating it with contempt, which
is the only reasonable attitude to take.
When once one knows a person well, one ought to be prepared to follow one's own
knowledge of him, and not be swept away by what is said by others who may know
him less. There are among us different dispositions of all kinds, but broadly
speaking one cannot go wrong if one keeps to one's own knowledge of what a
person is and thinks and does, until one sees quite clearly for oneself that
that person has in some way changed, and even then one must not take a single
example. One must wait and see, because often for the moment a person is
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changed by a little ill-health, or sleeplessness, and then he says and does
things that he would not say or do under other circumstances. So one must not
judge one's friend hastily by a single word or action, but must wait and see how
things really are with him.1 To suppose him to be changed because somebody says
he is, is absolutely unfair. When you have a friend, stand by him and wait until
he himself says something or does something which supports this idea of what he
is supposed to be thinking or doing or saying; do not accept the evidence of
other people who may be speaking under some mistake, made by carelessness or
because they do not like him.
Just as a person who allows himself to be swayed in that way comes not to know
his friends from his enemies and not to understand the facts at all, so also the
very same happens to the man who lets his personality dominate him. If jealousy
seizes upon him he becomes absolutely blinded. His normal senses are of no use
to him; he does not listen to them at all; he makes up his mind beforehand on
every subject and it is quite useless to try |j to turn him. It is very odd, and
it is sad to see how ready people are to believe evil of others. The evil may be
refuted; it may be clearly shown that there is no foundation for it; but still a
certain suspicion remains.
All this should not be so, but it comes partly from an excess of the development
of the particular part of ourselves in the evolution of which humanity is at
present engaged. The lower mind learns by discrimination, by
1 Ante., Vol. I, Part III, Ch. 5: Mind your own Business.
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distinguishing differences between this thing and that, and therefore it always
pounces first of all upon differences. Therefore when a man comes into contact
with a person whom he does not know, with any idea which is unfamiliar to him,
or with a book which he has not seen before, the general tendency is to seize
first upon the things he does not like, those which are different from the
things to which he is accustomed, and then magnify them out of all proportion.
The reason for this is that we have developed this discriminating faculty a
little too much, or rather we have not yet developed the counterbalancing
buddhic faculty sufficiently. It is very well to be able to discriminate. It is
a necessity; but we ought to have as well the spirit of synthesis, which sees
likenesses as well as differences.
The teaching given in this passage also appears very emphatically in The
Bhagavad-Gita:
Man, musing on the objects of sense, conceiveth an attachment to these; from
attachment ariseth desire; from desire anger cometh forth; from anger proceedeth
delusion; from delusion confused memory; from confused memory the destruction of
buddhi; from destruction of buddhi he perishes.1
It is difficult, I know, for us to realize how the Monad can be divine and yet
at the same time undeveloped, how he can be different at the end of his
incarnation in the individuality from what he was at the beginning. Let us take
an analogy, imperfect as it is. The human body is composed of millions upon
millions of cells. Those are human cells because they are part of the man, and
yet if there be any kind of evolution—and perhaps
1 Op. cit., II, 62-3.
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there is—by which the soul of the cell can one day become the soul of a human
being, surely one would not say that in the end there had been no evolution,
because the cell was human to begin with. That simile may suggest how the
Monad is part of the Logos, yet not unfolded. It is not safe, I know, to make
analogies of that kind from the lower to the higher, and then press them to fit
into every detail, because usually they will not. There is a great occult
saying: " As above, so below," but the converse of that: " As below, so
above," is true only with narrow and restricting limitations. I think we may
safely reason down, as the Hindus do, from what they are told exists above, to
what therefore they must find somewhere below, in a general way. But it is not
quite safe to reverse the process, because the arrangements on the higher planes
are obviously greater and wider, though we do not know the ways in which they
are so. We may often mislead ourselves if we say that because a certain
thing happens down here it must also happen up above. Something which is an
expression of the same law must happen up above, but it may take some form which
we should not recognize. The analogy of the cells within the body is not quite a
safe one to follow far, but there are various points across which we come in our
study which indicate that something of that kind is taking place. We know that
the ensouling life of all the lower kingdoms becomes in its turn only a vehicle
for a still higher life when man is individualized. The causal body that we
are using now was the soul of some animal from which we individualized,
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so what is at one stage the ensouling life may later on become a vehicle.
Stated in that way, however, this truth needs reservations, because although
what is in man the causal body was all of the soul that could be seen with
regard to the animal and the plant, yet it is matter on a definite level, and
there must have been life from above, ensouling and vivifying that matter,
unseen. We must remember always that the energy, the spirit, we can never really
see, but only its manifestation in some form of matter. Let us take this
physical body as an example. What is it that is ensouling that? It is the
man in his astral body. That astral body we . cannot see; therefore at this
stage it is to us the soul. If astral sight is developed we find that it in turn
is energized by something higher. That proves to be the mental body; and that
in-turn is energized by the ego— and so it goes on, all the way up. What to us
appears the ensouling life is never the real spirit, but some manifestation of
it. When we get to the highest that we can, the bubbles of koilon—in the true
aether of space —to our present sight appear to be empty. Of course they are
not so, because there is in them something which has power to hold the
incredible force of the aether apart. Therefore very decidedly there is
something in that apparently empty space. At present we cannot see it,
but perhaps later developments may enable us to do so. Then what we see
will not be the ensouling spirit, but some higher form of matter through which
that ensouling spirit is manifesting. The higher force is never seen at all.
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3. Take his orders for battle, and obey them.
Obey him, not as though he were a general, bat as though he were thyself, and
his spoken words were the utterance of thy secret desires; for he is thyself,
yet infinitely wiser and stronger than thyself.
We must learn that whenever there is a conflict between the higher and the
lower, we are the higher. At first we do not feel definitely that it is ourself.
Believing that it is so from our teaching, we must act as though we felt it to
be so, and then very soon we shall find that it is true. Our danger is that we
may identify ourselves with the lower and forsake the higher.
CHAPTER 3 RULES 5 TO 8
C.W.L.—Rules 5, 6, 7 and 8 fall into one of our familiar groups. I will divide
Rule 8, which consists of the comments by the Chohans, into the three portions
appropriate to each of the shorter rules, and deal with them along with those
rules, as in the last chapter. We have thus:
5. Listen to the song of life.
Life itself has speech and is never silent. And its utterance is not, as you
that are deaf may suppose, a cry: it is a song. Learn from it that you are part
of the harmony; learn from it to obey the laws of harmony.
On Aphorism 5 there is also a long note by the Master Hilarion, which begins:
Look for it, and listen to it, first in your own heart. At first you may say,
'It is not there; when I search I find only discord." Look deeper. If again you
are disappointed, pause and look deeper again. There is a natural melody, an
obscure fount in every human heart. It may be bidden over and utterly concealed
and silenced—
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but it is there. At the very base of your nature yon will find faith, hope,
and love.
What is meant is that underneath all life, and exhibited more or less according
to the state of development of each life, is the great force that moves all
things. In Christianity we have been taught to call it the will of God, or the
love of God, but people very often use these religious terms in a vague way, so
that they lose much of their reality and power. In popular religion there are
several of these expressions which have a certain historical or traditional
connotation, but really do not actually mean much to the people who use them.
People talk, for example, about the grace of God, but I think very often they
have but little idea of what they really mean. Again, when in church the Litany
is recited, people say: " Spare us, good Lord." That is a most amazing and
utterly illogical and impossible sentence, but nobody ever seems to think of it.
They say " spare us" and call Him " good Lord " at the same time—a contradiction
in terms. A good Lord would never need to be asked to spare anybody. To ask that
is worse than wrong, because it suggests evil in God. It is blasphemy even worse
than that of using His name in casual swearing, as people sometimes do in the
streets, though that is bad enough. They are attributing to Him human passions,
and malignity at that, and are asking Him .not to exercise His malignity upon
them.
In the same way people speak of the mercy of God. That again contains very much
the same idea, that He
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might do something quite dreadful to you, but instead He elects to show mercy.
Certainly all such phrases imply an utter misunderstanding of what the word God
means; it is the grandest, the finest word that exists; it means the Good, and
He who is good needs no entreaty to show mercy in a certain case, for He is
always so full of love that the idea of anything else but mercy would be utterly
unthinkable. God will certainly show love to all, irrespective of what they do.
I do not know how people think a loving father would be likely to feel, if he
found his children crawling to his feet and begging him to have mercy upon them.
We have that difficulty to fight against when in Theosophy we try to talk about
these higher forces. Those of us who have come through the various churches and
chapels unfortunately have been accustomed to speak about such things freely,
but to think of them as being utterly vague and meaning nothing in particular.
People go to church and perhaps ask for the divine blessing, with a general idea
that God will look after them, or something of that kind. I am afraid it is a
very unscientific conception. What one ought to understand is that a church
service is a means intended to convey a perfectly definite force. . This
thing—the blessing of God—is a force absolutely as definite as electricity, as
real as the steam that moves our trains, and it flows through the channels
appointed for it, through the priest or the bishop. When he extends his hand a
definite force flows from it over the people. There is a very definite raying
out of force, which floods the whole church,
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and is received and appropriated by such people as have made themselves ready to
receive it. It is true that some may sit there and not be influenced, but that
is only because they have not in any way previously prepared themselves.
So when people talk about the love and the grace of God- they are usually
thinking vaguely about things which are in reality very definite forces. It is
sometimes hard for us to rid ourselves of this loose method of thought. It is
not only those who have come along the line of the churches who suffer from it,
but also those who have not, have lost something. Those who have come through
this line have acquired in the process certain attitudes and powers of
comprehension which those who have been free-thinkers have not so easily to
hand. The orthodox church training is on the whole a good training, except for
its bigotry and narrowness, and for the conception of God which it so often puts
before its people. For the rest, the ideas of serving God by worship and by
praise, and of gathering together so to worship Him, and to employ in that
worship all such beauty as can be provided, are fine and beautiful, and I think
that it is quite possible for them to co-exist with the widest and most liberal
doctrine. They have not so co-existed for many centuries now, unfortunately,
except in the case of a very few people, here and there. I have long believed
that a church would sooner or later spring up which would combine these things,
and now we have it in the Liberal Catholic Church. Those people who love the old
church and her methods, her ritual and
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music, and all the beauty and gentleness of holiness, are now able to have all
that, and yet at the same time to have with it a doctrine which is to all
intents and purposes Theosophy.
So when in Theosophy we use terms corresponding to those which are commonly used
in this vague way, we should understand that they are not cloudy or indefinite
in any sense. If I speak of giving to anyone the blessing of the Master I mean a
definite pouring out of a spiritual influence. It uses as its vehicle matter at
a higher level than the physical plane, in most cases, but nevertheless it
employs matter through which it influences the matter of the causal or mental or
astral body, as the case may be; so let us altogether divest our minds of the
least fragment of thought that this is a vague good influence which does not
mean anything much.
This great force that moves all things has another side to it, which is the law
of sacrifice. Sacrifice is a grand word, but people generally use it wrongly.
They talk about making a sacrifice when they give up something and it tears the
heart to do so. If men want to know what sacrifice really means in religion,
they will have to wipe that idea put of their minds. They must take an entirely
new interpretation of a word they have known all their lives. They may sometimes
think that they now hold the true interpretation and have set aside the other,
when the shadow of the old idea is still upon them, and it comes up and clouds
the mind without their being aware of it; only gradually will it fade away
completely.
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The word " sacrifice " comes from the Latin sacrificio —" I make holy." To
sacrifice a thing is to offer it to God, thereby making it holy. The idea that
when you offer it to Him you take it away from yourself is a secondary meaning
introduced into it; if you want, as it is so often expressed in the Scriptures,
to make yourself a perfect sacrifice unto God, there must in that be no idea of
giving up anything at all. The truth is, though it sounds paradoxical, that as,
long as you feel anything to be a sacrifice it is not really so; it is not trade
holy at all. You are giving it but with a grudging hand. When you feel that you
cannot do other than pour yourself out, as it were, at the feet of God or of
Christ in perfect devotion; when you have no thought at all of giving up
anything, because in the very nature of things you could not do otherwise from
the way in which you feel; when what you have within you makes it so that there
is nothing else in the whole world that you could do but yield utterly to Him;
perhaps then you are a perfect sacrifice. It is only when we have altogether
forgotten the ideas that are ordinarily connected with the word that we can make
a true sacrifice. It is a glorious word, but it does not mean to give up; it
means to make holy.
The Logos Himself makes the greatest sacrifice of all, for He pours Himself down
into matter. He limits His power and sheds His glory; truly, " For us men and
for our salvation He came down from Heaven." Those are beautiful words, but the
meaning that is attached to them in modern days is often far from that; it is
often
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altogether a degradation of the real idea. When understood, these ideas are seen
to be beautiful and glorious and entirely to be commended and admired—but we
must understand first. So the Christ makes of all sacrifices the greatest, and
we, in so far as we dedicate ourselves to His service, take part in that
sacrifice and make ourselves one with it. If one has once seen the reality
behind, one can do no other than this; but then the world would no longer think
of it as a sacrifice, because it would seem to be following one's own will. Then
the man goes on working with the evolutionary force, but he has forgotten what
he gave. It is no longer a matter of giving up anything, but of having reached
the true realization of oneself, and of knowing what one is here for. The
thought of the Logos is such as that, and we must be like Him if we would truly
sacrifice.
Dr. Besant has said that the fact that there is no religion in the world which
is not full of ideas of sacrifice shows that there is some great esoteric truth
underlying it. The Law of sacrifice has not been fully studied as yet, although
a Master once said that it is as important as those of reincarnation and karma.
To see that reality behind things is to listen to the song of life. The song of
life is the force which is all the time running under life. All the different
movements in nature have sound and colour as their expressions and
accompaniments—there are others of which we know nothing, but at least sound and
colour are within our experience. It is possible to learn to hear something of
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the harmony of nature and to see something- of its beauty and glory and order,
and it is in that way more than in any other that one may come to be quite
certain that all things are working together for good, and that the order which
underlies this apparent disorder is out of all proportion and in every way
greater, more important, more effective. The disorder is nothing but a slight
disturbance, foam on the surface; the real depth of the sea lies beneath, and
that obeys the divine law perfectly, even though on the surface that law may
seem to be set at naught.
It is important for us to try, if we can, to sense the reality which lies
behind, to feel that which is incapable of being turned aside or disturbed in
any way. It is a great comfort, a great consolation, a great security, when once
we can get into touch with this, and feel absolutely sure that everything is
marching steadily on its way, and that therefore it does not matter what happens
on the surface, because it is at worst a small temporary annoyance, a little
flutter. All the while we are moving onwards towards unity with the One. . We
are all the time part of it; we are moving towards the realization of that, and
the One through us is developing His manifestation of Himself.
There is a song, a great chord of harmony, as it were, always sounding beyond
the worlds. In classic days they spoke about the music of the spheres, the idea
being that the sun, the planets and the stars, moving in their courses, produce
a mighty harmony. In the Old Testament, too, we read that " The morning stars
sang
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together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy." 1 Many people think of that
as a beautiful expression, but merely poetic symbolism. A common proverb speaks
of things as "too good to be true"; but everything good and beautiful must be
true, because it is good and beautiful. Wherever there is a fine idea, there is
a basis for it; one could not think it unless there were something corresponding
to it on the higher levels. All the highest and noblest and greatest things are
the divine thoughts; our thoughts are high and pure and true and noble just in
proportion as they reach up towards that. We must try to acquire this idea—not
as a poetical conception to play with, but as a real basic fact—that above all
and in all and at the heart of all there is always the beautiful and the true.
The ideas commonly put before us are man's thoughts about things; the realities
behind things are God's thought about them; as God is greater than man so are
His thoughts higher than our thoughts. Higher does not mean more austere, or
more unpractical, or more distant from ordinary life, but greater, more
beautiful, more glorious.
We are listening to the song of life whenever we try to find in everything that
which is best and most beautiful. All students of occultism must necessarily be
optimists, because they know that the facts far more than justify the most
optimistic view that we can possibly take. The truth behind is always grand. We
misunderstand it and fall short of it; that is not the fault of the truth, but
of our lack of comprehension. So
1 Job, 38, 7.
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in many ways—some of them small ways—in daily life we may listen to this song of
life, and when once we do come to hear it we shall not entirely lose the sound
again. It is to be heard on all the different planes; even if we could hear the
entirety of the song on one plane we should still have only a very small part,
one note. As we reach plane after plane we shall always find more and more of
its beauty and glory. The more one hears of it the more perfect the harmony
becomes. If one struck all the notes of an octave at once one would not get
harmony, but discord; but on the higher planes there is what I can only describe
in a somewhat paradoxical way—the possibility that the more notes you are able
to strike the more perfect is the harmony, because there all things fit into one
another in a way which down here one cannot in the least degree suggest.
If part of a melody is in one key and part in another we get an effect of
disharmony. If we could imagine some kind of projection into space in which each
of these parts would work itself out in perfect harmony within itself, and then
a scheme in another direction in which those parts would blend together, in
which each of those harmonies would be one note, it might give an idea of it; it
is not possible to put it into words. But the effect of it is that you can so
project a number of keys, which here, would be discordant, that they make in
higher worlds a perfect harmony.
Much modern music is less harmonious than the older music. It plunges into wild
discords and seeks thereby somehow to produce a finer harmony. It does not
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succeed in doing so; but I believe that the people who are working at it are
gaining glimpses of this of which I have been speaking, and are trying to
express it. They are seeking for some method whereby discords will produce
harmony. I do not think it can be done on the physical plane; but I must confess
I do not like these curious later manifestations, and therefore I am probably
far from understanding them. The people who compose all this weird music are
probably aiming at something the astral and mental counterparts of which will
not be discords but harmonies; but at this level they produce an effect which is
not harmonious. I suppose those who have come to appreciate it have learned how
to produce the effects in their higher bodies, and so they like that queer and
inharmonious sound.
Many of the curious modern manifestations of art, not only in music but also in
painting, are definitely struggling towards the future, and they are producing
effects beyond that which can be seen and heard. What can be seen and heard is
very unbeautiful in many cases, but I can well imagine that they -are aiming at
something which will be very beautiful when the result is attained. One wishes
that it might be reasonably harmonious on all planes, so that even down here the
thing might be beautiful in itself for those who do not understand the higher
side!
I have heard a number of people say that one piece of music sounded much the
same to them as another. There are many of us who get a certain amount of vague
pleasure from music, but do not any way understand it. There
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are others to whom a piece of music is not only pleasing to the ear, but to whom
it is as definite as speech in a lecture would be, to whom it conveys a clear
form, which they can see and appreciate. I have heard great musicians speaking
among themselves, and I therefore realize that the thought-form with which a
composer writes a certain piece of music can quite definitely be conveyed to
another man. I met with such a case when I was in Italy a few years ago. A man
wrote a piece of music which was intended to represent a fountain in a garden,
and this fountain had three basins one above the other. As he wrote his music
describing this he had that thought-form in his mind. I know the same
thought-form was conveyed to another musician who had never seen the fountain or
the garden, and had no idea of what the music was intended to portray; when he
played it, it called up the exact picture before him, so that he knew which
parts referred to the different basins of the fountain and which part was
descriptive of the garden. I could see certain correspondences, but until I had
heard what it meant it did not call up the picture to me. That is a higher
musical development; when we are at the level when we can sense a meaning like
that in music, it will convey more than it does at present to most of us. The
same thing is true of a picture. Precisely what it conveys to one differs from
what is indicated to another. Some are like the man in Wordsworth's poem:
A primrose by the river's brink A yellow primrose was to him, And it was nothing
more.
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But to the poet the primrose suggested a host of beautiful ideas. When this
faculty is definitely established we shall arrive at a condition of thinking in
symbols. The ego does that in his causal body; he thinks in symbols, not in
concrete things, and quite evidently one way of psychic unfoldment is along that
line, although it is very different from the more ordinary form of development.
Many of the newer forms of art, such as the futurist and cubist pictures—things
which are like nothing in heaven or earth, but may symbolize something at higher
levels—are at present in a transition stage; it is half done work. They always
say that children should not be allowed to see half done work. Some of us are
only children in this respect, so we do not appreciate it; but when it is
completed it may be a great success. The song of life is not one part, but a
whole orchestra; it is a vast number of melodies all run together, and it may be
that the votaries of the new art are reaching up towards another manifestation
which as yet we do not see.
It is important to realize order. We are now passing through a democratic phase
of things, in connection with which it seems inevitable that there should be
considerable manifestation of disorder; some people, in fact, rather glory in
disorder, call it individualism, and say that every man must go his own way no
matter what happens to the rest. It is necessary that people should learn to be
able to go their own way; it is also necessary that when they have done that,
they should also learn to subordinate their wills to the Divine Will. Having
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developed the power to stand alone, and the powers to act and think, they must
learn to use them only in the right direction. One must have a will to
subordinate to the Divine Will. When a man has no will life is quite easy,
because he lets everything drift and trusts in " Providence ". The people who
have developed a will sometimes assert it against the Divine Will, and really it
seems better for their evolution that people should be strong enough thus to go
wrong in order that they may presently go right, because the people who have not
the will to do either good or evil are not likely to be particularly useful, nor
to go very far.1
To follow the Divine Will is to listen to the song of life. The more we seek it
the more we shall discover it. As we reach plane after plane, we shall hear it
more grandly and more fully. It is said here that even now we may form some
faint idea, may see some dim reflection of the splendour of the whole, because
this song of life is within us, and if we look deep down we shall find it. We
have the divine spirit, the divine breath within us. It is crusted over by what
we call our human nature, and so the melody does not readily come through—the
spark burns low. But it is there, and that spark is never separate, as we
thought it. It is always part of the totality of the divine flame, and our duty
is to make these lower selves of ours lamps through which that can shine.
There is always within us a manifestation of the divine which is not soiled or
in any way clouded by its association with matter. If we can realize ourselves
as that,
1 Ante., Vol. II, p. 131.
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matter will no longer have any power over us; but to do that fully means a very
high development—perhaps even more than Adeptship. Always there is that
manifestation, absolutely unstained, unclouded, untouched; if we can realize
even a little our oneness with that, feel that that is " I ", we shall hear the
song of life always. However we may be surrounded by the struggle and clash of
the lower worlds, that song will always be sung within us; we shall do our work
in the outer world in utter peace and contentment, because we know that within
is the only real truth and all the rest is merely a temporary manifestation.
Some touch with our own higher consciousness or that of the Master is often the
beginning of the hearing of this melody; it brings a sense of that inner life,
of rejoicing, of bliss, of conquest, a feeling that you have been victorious in
a great struggle. The Master's note continues:
He that chooses evil refuses to look within himself, shuts his ears to the
melody of his heart, as he blinds his eyes to the light of his soul. He does
this because he finds it easier to live in desires. But underneath all life is
the strong current that cannot be checked; the great waters are there in
reality. Find them and you will perceive that none, not the most wretched of
creatures, but is a part of it, however he blind himself to the fact and build
up for himself a phantasmal outer form of horror.
If a man chooses evil it is because he refuses to look deep within himself.
It is scarcely that he chooses evil
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intentionally, but as he never goes deep down into himself at all, he mistakes
his astral vehicle for himself, and so lives in his desires, following the lower
path because he wants to satisfy them. It is because he will not face the facts
of life that he is working against the current of evolution. Long after he has
reached the point where he could change over to the higher life he usually
averts his face; it is too uncomfortable for him to realize that he has gone far
on the wrong road, that he will have to turn round and face a great deal of hard
work and trouble and sorrow, arising from the fact that he has set up an impetus
in the wrong direction. It may not seem to be a very serious matter that there
are many people in that state, but if a man having those characteristics reaches
a position in which he has it in his power to do much good or much evil, he is
in very great danger from the point of view of occult progress.
When one reads passages like this, one thinks usually of a man who takes up
black magic on a grand scale, but it is equally true with regard to smaller
matters. The man who will not face facts is very liable to be led away into the
easier but more dangerous path. He will do what is easy, instead of what is
right. We have to see ourselves frankly as we are. The man who wilfully declines
to do so has probably reason to fear that if he did see himself face to face he
might not like the prospect. Still, it is possible to err in the opposite way;
to fall into a condition of morbid introspection is really a serious trouble and
difficulty, as we saw in studying
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At the Feet of the Master.1 The people who are always pulling themselves up by
the roots to see how they are growing do not make progress. The great thing is
to make sure that you are set in the right direction, that you are trying to
work for good, and then go quietly and steadily on and do the best you can. Do
not worry about your own progress. It is necessary, truly, that you should make
progress, but the best progress is made when you are not thinking of it, when
you have lost all thought of yourself in doing some good and useful work for
others. Such advance as I have myself been able to make in the course of the
last forty-five years has come absolutely and entirely from throwing myself into
any work that had to be done, and leaving the question of advancement to take
care of itself.
It is true that the man who blinds himself to the fact that he is divine builds
for himself a form of horror. Our difficulty in dealing with him is that what we
meet down here is the form of horror and not the soul behind. Nevertheless, we
have to try to realize that that soul is there. I believe I have mentioned
before that I had a certain amount of experience as a lay helper in the Church
in my younger days in one of the worst parts of London. In the course of my
experience there I met with people who were perhaps as low and degraded as any
one would be likely to find in the world. They had no thought of gaining any
sort of honest or reputable livelihood. Their only idea of life was to steal and
to commit outrages of various kinds. They knew absolutely 1 Ante., Vol. I, Part,
II, Ch. 5: Unselfishness and the Divine Life.
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nothing more. Those who live under better conditions have very little conception
of life among the real London poor. I have known five families living in one
room-one in each corner and one in the middle. They got on fairly well in a
curious pigsty sort of way, until the party in the middle took in a lodger, and
then there was a fight.
In the newer countries there is scarcely anything resembling the slums of
Britain. In every country there are men more and less advanced, but in Britain
we have produced extreme conditions, because we have not always lived up to our
powers and responsibilities. In some cases we have massacred native people, have
slaughtered them as wild beasts, have gone out to shoot them as men shoot game.
In many instances those who were so treated have in consequence incarnated in
our own country, and become slum-dwellers. Though they are given the opportunity
of a body of a more developed country they are usually unable to take much
advantage of it, especially while their surroundings are so bad.
When people are living under conditions like that I do not think we can expect
anything very high in the way of morality, or humanity. These people, with a
record of crime behind them, with a heridity of crime from their fathers and
mothers, and living under terrible conditions such as I have described,
nevertheless always had some little spark of something better in them—a little
kindness that they would show towards a sick neighbour, to a child, to a dog. I
remember one man
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who was a very bad case indeed, and I think the only gleam of anything I saw of
good in him was that he had a strong affection for a dog, and would share his
last morsel with him. The divine spark exists in every one of those people, and
will show through when you least expect it. You know it is always there, and
that is something to work upon. If there should ever be a case where you cannot
find any trace of it, be sure all the same that it is there.
While we should always try to remember the glory that is behind a man, and that
it will be in evidence in some future life, we have yet to face the fact that
the external presentment at present is often very defective. We must try to help
the divine spark of manifest, though we shall find cases in which we can
scarcely touch it. It is not given to every one to find the way. We meet with
persons for whom we cannot do very much. We try; we do our best; it may not be
the man's karma that we should be able to help him; it may not be our karma to
be strong enough to find the way in that particular case. In these affairs we
must always remember the importance of common sense, and must not permit
ourselves to be swept away from that into helplessness or despair on the one
side, or into any kind of sentimentality which will blind us to obvious facts on
the other. It is often said that there is only one step between the sublime and
the ridiculous, and one may sometimes make that which is noble and beautiful
quite ridiculous by pursuing it too far, or carrying it to an exaggerated
length. There are many such instances
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and possibilities in connection with our Theosophical teaching and work.
The divine life is in every one, but in many cases it may be showing itself but
poorly and dimly. We have then to deal with the matter as it stands. On the
physical plane, for our life as a community, we must have certain laws. Those
who offend against those laws, who become what is called habitual criminals,
must be dealt with in some way that will help both them and the community. I
know that some people carry the idea of the indwelling light so far that they
say the criminal ought not to be restrained. That seems to me to be foolish,
because we should then be delivering ourselves over into the hands of the
criminal, and life and order and progress would become impossible for thousands
of people whose opportunity of progress is very much better, who are far more
important for the progress of the world than that criminal.
We must do no wrong to our criminal. We should treat him as a case, as a sick
man, rather than as a wicked man, because the habitual criminal is a person who
is mentally defective. Clever he may be along certain lines, but he is certainly
deficient in other ways. He is unable to see the necessity for unselfishness and
unity and solidarity, otherwise he could not be the habitual criminal.
The usual idea of taking revenge upon the criminal is surely quite the wrong way
to approach the matter. It seems to me unworthy of a civilized body of people.
We must protect ourselves against the attacks of criminals but since they are
also men and brothers even though
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very much younger brothers, we should try in protecting ourselves to help and
educate them, not to be revenged upon them. There is an idea that other crimes
may be prevented by making an awful example of one person.1 That is doing evil
that good may come; history shows that good does not come in that way.
AH these forms of horror are phantasmagoric. They have no existence in the
divine reality. They say in China that evil is but a dark shadow of good. We
have produced most of the evil in the world because we have not worked in
harmony with the divine laws in this life or in past lives. If it were possible
that we could all work in harmony with them, evil, would be eliminated. It was
necessary that some free will should be gained in order that we might learn how
to use it, but quite naturally and with no blame attached to anybody we have
used our free will wrongly about as often as rightly, and the consequence of
that has been the introduction of what we call evil into the world. But always
it is a mere surface disturbance, always in the deep waters behind are the great
currents of the divine life, and the evolution which the Logos has mapped out
for us. Those are the permanent realities of life. The other is only
superficial, though to us it often seems of tremendous importance and of very
great power. In reality, as compared to the rest, it is not at all a powerful
thing. The great waters are not affected by anything that we can see. In some
mysterious way it is true that " Blindly the wicked work the righteous will of
heaven," as Southey said.
'Ante., Vol. I, Part V, Ch. 4: Cruelty.
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In that sense it is that I say to you: All those beings among whom you struggle
on are fragments of the Divine. And so deceptive is the illusion in which you
live that it is hard to guess where you will first detect the sweet voice in the
hearts of others. But know that it is certainly within yourself. Look for it
there, and once having heard it, yon will more readily recognize it around you.
If we can look at things from the point of view of the ego in the causal body,
still more if we can penetrate to the next plane, the buddhic, we shall see the
real meaning of all this. It is no longer one little part of the lower side of
it all that we then see, but the whole thing; and we can realize what the
.proportion is, and see how really small it is, how " The evil is null, is
naught, is silence implying sound." That is truer than perhaps Browning knew
when he wrote it. Behind and beyond and above all the evil we may be very sure
that the great current is steadily flowing, that the song of life is to be
heard, if we go down deep enough to hear it, for the soul of things is sweet,
and .the heart of being is celestial rest as the Lord Buddha told us long ago.
We have to find the way to God by the cultivation of the spark until it becomes
a flame. It will then burn away the walls that the individuality has built up,
but in destroying them it will not lose the strength and definite-ness which it
gained in building and using them. So the power which it thus gains will enable
it eventually to act not as a spark, but as a sun radiating life and light
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through a vast solar system, and then, indeed, man will have become as God.
We may now consider the Chohan's comment on Rule 5:
Life itself has speech and is never silent. And its utterance is not, as you
that are deaf may suppose, a cry: it is a song. Learn from it that you are part
of the harmony; learn from it to obey the laws of the harmony.
Down here on the surface one sees plenty of confusion, of crying and sorrow and
misery and grasping and overreaching and ill-will, and one might well think that
if one could penetrate to the heart of life one would find it a cry for help, a
cry of misery; but it is not—one will find it is not a cry, but a song. Whatever
the spray on the surface may do, whatever currents and eddies may be seen here
by our outward eyes, the mighty current goes steadily on, and it is that which
counts, that which makes the mark.
The cry for rest and peace is often all that we can hear in the physical world.
When we rise to the higher planes we realize that the whole current of life
which flows from within is not uttering any cry for rest, but is singing a
glorious song of triumph as it flows steadily onward in the way which God has
appointed for it. You may learn from that song, as is said here—you are part of
the harmony and you may learn from it to obey the laws of the harmony. All this
wonderful and glorious universe is an expression of God's will; it moves
steadily
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on as He means it to move, and all that we have to do, if we would only
understand it, is to make ourselves an intelligent part of that movement, to see
what it is that He wants us to do, and then do it.
There is no difficulty and there never has been any difficulty in knowing what
He wants us to do, for religion in the world from the earliest times of which we
have any record has taught precisely this with regard to the actions of men.
They have had as many forms of belief, and as many different names for things,
as there have been religions, but all of them are agreed as to what a man should
do. That is the important thing, and it is strange that people cannot be induced
to see that idea and to work with it. They all agree that the good man is the
man of generous heart, the unselfish man, the kindly man who does not oppress
others but tries in all ways to help them on their way—the man who is charitable
to the poor, who will give food to the hungry and drink to-the thirsty and
clothes to those who are naked, and will visit those who are sick and in prison.
These are the things of which Christ is reported to have spoken as deciding the
fates of men.' In Buddhism, the last of the religions founded by His great
predecessor, the Lord Gautama Buddha, you will find exactly the same virtues
laid down. When the present World-Teacher came to us in His incarnation as Shri
Krishna He preached the same doctrine. There is a variation in certain outward
forms and names which do not matter, but the teaching itself has ever been the
same. Yet 1 S. Matthew, 25, 35-40.
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although men have always been told, have always known what was God's will, it is
very hard to get them to do it.
We read much of the simple life; the simplest lives of all I suppose were led by
the hermits of old, are led even to-day in India by people who go forth into the
jungle absolutely without anything, and devote themselves entirely to following
the higher life. I am well aware that that often deteriorates some of them, and
those who are supposed to be devoting themselves to the higher life are
sometimes in reality not yet able fully to do so, are not yet at the level where
they can spend a whole life in meditation. Thus there are yogis who have caused
yoga to be criticized, and hermits who have brought disgrace upon the religion
for which they are working. Still, the fact remains that the highest and
simplest life of all is in reality the fullest life—the life which is lived
wholly upon higher planes.
That is not for all; most of us are on the line of karma yoga, or active
service; our business is to work for the benefit of the world on the physical
plane. The man who retires from the world should be working for it far more
decidedly and strongly, but at the higher level. He does not retire to meditate
in a jungle or a cave merely because he wants to get away from the rest of the
world and save his own soul more easily in that way. He goes because, being
already a soul which is saved, radiant, rejoicing, strong, a spiritual power, he
feels that he can do greater work on higher planes than he
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could in a city, amid interferences from the physical plane.1
Sometimes men have retired to the jungle merely to avoid the responsibilities
and difficulties of worldly duty; but the man who has transcended worldly duty
will find that it will fade away from him, and when the way thus opens up for
him, he may permit himself to try the higher life of the sannyasi or monk. Yet
even then in this period of the world's history that monastic life does not seem
to be the way generally indicated. There is so much to do in the world that at
least we must fulfill all our duties there before we may feel ourselves at
liberty to retire from it and leave that work to others.
6. Store in your memory the melody you hear.
Only fragments of the great song come to your ears while yet you are but man.
But if you listen to it, remember it faithfully, so that none which has reached
you is lost, and endeavour to learn from it the meaning of the mystery which
surrounds you. In time you will need no teacher, for as the individual has
voice, so has that in which the individual exists.
If you listen you will hear the great song sometimes; then remember it and never
forget what you have heard, so that nothing that has reached you may be lost; in
that way, by piecing together the fragments of the great song
1 Ante., Vol. I, Part V, Ch. 2: Love in Daily Life; Ch. 6: Service: Vol. III, p.
74.
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you may gradually learn from it the meaning of the mystery that surrounds you.
Life is a mystery to those who do not see it as a whole, and none of us can see
it fully until we become one with the Logos of the system, the Logos of whom all
this life is the expression. Only He can see it fully. We, as minute fragments
(I know that is not philosophical, but it comes nearer to the fact than any
other expression, I think), as tiny parts of His consciousness, may identify
ourselves to a greater or less extent with that great consciousness. And just in
proportion as we do so shall we be able to see this, to sense it, to know it.
Each one of us who is trying to hear the song of life is trying to piece
together the fragments which he sees here and there.
Probably the whole of nature is the expression of something which is simple; a
very few simple forces under different conditions account for all we see around
us; but we are not yet in a position to see exactly what these forces are and
how the conditions work.1 It seems at first strange, therefore, that the further
we inquire in a scientific way into nature the greater is the complexity we
find. You put on higher and higher powers to your microscope, for example, and
you find that what seemed only a simple little speck is in reality a wonderfully
complex organism. Until recently chemists used to think of an element, such as
gold or iron, as a simple thing, but years ago, by clairvoyant sight, which goes
far beyond the power of the microscope, we saw that it was a most complex
object. We saw, for example, that
1 Ante., p. 162-3.
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what is commonly called a chemical atom of gold contains three thousand five
hundred and forty-six of the ultimate physical atoms, and that they are moving
in groups round their own centre of gravity in close imitation of the solar
system.
So it would appear that the more deeply we investigate the more complex we find
everything. Yet ultimately that is not true, because if we go further and
further still we at last find that all is built of bubbles in koilon— built of
nothing—and the whole material universe is in a way an illusion. Indeed, the
Indian books told us this long ago—that there is an ultimate simplicity behind
all the complexity. We cannot speak with certainty because as yet we have not
seen it, but it seems so probable that we may almost take it as a certainty that
that same rule will hold good everywhere: that while the complexities are quite
infinitely greater than we have thought them to be, yet behind all that lies
absolute simplicity.
7. Learn from it the lesson of harmony.
You can stand upright now, firm as a rock amid the turmoil, obeying the Warrior
who is thyself and thy king. Unconcerned in the battle save to do his bidding,
having no longer any care as to the result of the battle, for one thing only is
important, that the Warrior shall win, and you know he is incapable of
defeat—standing thus, cool and awakened, use the hearing you have acquired by
pain and by the destruction of pain.
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The great Venetian Master is describing here the state at which the man ought to
have arrived when the higher self is the warrior, the one who rights. When the
man recognizes that he is that warrior in truth, that he is that higher self,
and that it is divine and within the Logos, then he becomes unconcerned as to
the battle of life, except to do the bidding of that higher self.
At first in our struggle in the world, in our endeavour to do our work and fufil
our duties, we are very much concerned about the result. We feel that unless we
are able to work for it the right will not win. The right will always win in the
end. It would be sad that any one of us should fail to do his part towards
securing that end, but we may be sure that whatever is done the right must
eventually triumph, and so long as we do the bidding of the higher self, so long
as we are making our utmost effort, the fact that that utmost effort appears to
fail should not trouble or concern us. But we must be very sure that we are
making the utmost effort and that we are not using the certainty that the right
will win as an excuse for laziness.
It is absolutely certain that in the great struggle of life the right will win,
and also that all will evolve to perfection some day, somehow, not perhaps in
this chain on worlds but in some other. Yet those who take that as an excuse for
laziness, and say: " All will come out well; I need not exert myself; the ego
will fight somewhere on some higher level; it does not matter what I, as a
personality, do," will be making very sad karma for
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themselves, because they are delaying the final triumph of good in this cycle of
evolution.
There is a great difference between knowing that the warrior within you must
win, and the stage before that when you do not know for certain. In the latter
case you feel only vaguely that he must win, and you are very much concerned
about your part in the battle; this is a necessary stage, even though it is a
mistake. But he who certainly knows attains to perfect calm even in the midst of
failure—not the calm of inactivity, but of the divine will in the higher self.
From the point of view of the great consummation no one's work is insignificant.
All the little efforts taken together make the mighty whole, but yet each man's
part in it is so small a part that he must not be unduly proud with regard to
it. The right must win, but the question is whether we are going to form part of
this conquering host now or whether we are to be one of those who are to be
left. We must be among either the lifters or the lifted; each man must be one of
those who are working for the world, or one of those for whom the work is being
done.
The real Self will win; it is incapable of defeat. When the personality is
thrown off and the warrior within the man fights he must win; when you have
identified yourself fully with him, you stand cool and awakened, and you watch
the contest in which you are taking part precisely as though you were not taking
part in it. You try through it all to listen to that song of life; you use that
hearing which you have acquired by pain and by the
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destruction of pain. So long as you have the pain, and feel it as such, you are
still fighting, you are only on the way; but by the destruction of that you
come into that state in which you have another sense, as it were, which enables
you to hear and to see all the while what it is that lies behind. Amidst all the
turmoil and the strife you hear the song of life; amidst the wild confusion you
see the mighty current. You have come to know that this pain is only a temporary
thing; you pass beyond it so that it is no longer woe to you; it is no longer
suffering. You know its meaning, and its power to hurt you is therefore dead.
CHAPTER 4
RULES 9 TO 12
C.W.L.—We come now to the group of Rules 9 to 12. Once more we may put together
each of the short rules with that portion of the Chohan's comment which goes
with it.
9. Regard earnestly all the life that surrounds yon.
Regard the constantly changing and moving life which surrounds yon, for it is
formed by the hearts of men; and as you learn to understand their constitution
and meaning, you will by degrees be able to read the larger word of life.
Most people spend their time regarding not the life but the form which surrounds
them. They do not dwell to any extent upon the thought of the indwelling life.
That is why they can be so rough and careless about vegetation, cutting down
beautiful trees, and turning a delightful country-side into a dreadful
manufacturing centre or an ugly city, without a thought for the preservation of
as much natural beauty as possible at the same time. That is also why they can
be so incredibly callous in
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their dealings with our younger brothers of the animal kingdom, and even with
one another.
It is also the reason why the evil in the world weighs so heavily upon the
feelings of the better kind of people. If they looked beneath the surface of
things and saw what is happening to the indwelling life, and how even the most
distressing events are used to assist the life on its road to divine happiness,
they would be less troubled. The disciple must turn his attention to the life in
everything. The first thing to recognize in all life is that it is an expression
of the Logos Himself. It is true that in much of the life around us we find many
things that are repellent, things which we know as evil, and yet they too bear
their part in the progress, of the world, and because of that we may look
everywhere for the manifestation of the Deity Himself.
There is always some human good in every person, except, perhaps, in the case of
a personality that has definitely broken away from the higher self. That is a
thing which sometimes happens, though very rarely indeed. It sounds dreadful,
and so it is, but it has been grossly exaggerated. The idea of what used to be
called the lost soul was harped upon a great deal in early Theosophical
literature, and two or three statements referring to quite different conditions
were sometimes all taken together, and the mixture misled a number of people,
making them think that lost souls were quite numerous.
There is a certain set of people in the world who are intensely attracted to
anything gruesome; they always want to make the worst of anything and
everything.
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I believe that we had in the Theosophical Society some people who were somewhat
of that temperament, and they picked out very carefully all the references to
subjects of this sort, to the eighth sphere and the possible loss of the soul,
and wove out of them all a terrible story. Then they confused with that the
remark of Madame Blavatsky's that we are elbowing lost souls by millions every
day in the street. That is a statement which in any case would require a certain
amount of modification. To elbow a million people would take one rather more
than a day. It is not an idea which can be taken literally, but is a picturesque
way of speaking of the two-fifths of humanity who will drop out of our evolution
in the middle of the fifth round. They can be described as lost souls only as
distinguished from those who will pass on safely.
They will be lost to this particular chain of worlds, but as has been explained,
there is no eternal punishment for them; they will rest in drowsy contentment
and be quite happy because they do not know anything better. They are not in the
least to be pitied, unless it be because they will have another long cycle of
lives to live in the next chain of worlds, and that is tiresome, as we all know.
For those to whom it comes it is the best thing —far better and easier and
pleasanter than it would be for them to remain in our evolution, when they are
not fitted for it, and thus to be pushed on at the cost of very considerable
strain, which would probably eventually break them down altogether. They have
not wasted their time, because all that they have learned and
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acquired in this particular chain of worlds will stand to their credit and there
is some progress for them in their interchain devachan. They will therefore take
a high place in the next chain of worlds, because they will begin in advance of
the new egos of that chain.
Those, then, are the millions whom we jostle. That has nothing to do with the
isolated cases in which the personality breaks away from the individuality. That
is a dreadful thing, but it is very much better to regard it not as a colossal
catastrophe, but only as an exaggerated case of something that is constantly
happening, for, as I have explained,1 at the end of each incarnation something
is usually lost, though much may also have been gained. The loss of an entire
personality would imply a life of most dreadful evil. Even then the ego does no
evil intentionally, but he sometimes lets his personality get out of hand. He is
responsible for that; he should not have allowed it; though that for which he is
responsible is weakness rather than direct evil. Still, the ego of the man is
going on. It has fallen back very terribly, but it does start afresh; though
perhaps not immediately, because it seems to be stunned at first. After such an
experience an ego would always be peculiar. He would always be dissatisfied, and
would have recollections of something higher and greater which now he could not
reach. It is a fearful condition, but still the man who casts himself so far
back as that has to take the karma of it, and realize ultimately that he has
brought it upon himself. 1 Ante., Vol. II, p. 284.
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I do not know for certain what further possibilities of loss there may have been
in earlier days of the world's history. As things stand now it seems quite
certain that the very worst that can happen to any ego is that he shall lose the
whole of one personality. That is a serious matter indeed, and might throw him
back from a fairly advanced civilization into almost a savage condition, but it
could not now throw him back into the animal world. I am not prepared to say
that there may not have been a time when it could have done even that, but it is
not possible now, so far as we can see.
It is not so very long ago, as occultists consider time, since a great many of
our present humanity left the animal state. When the time of the shutting of the
door from the animal to the human kingdom was drawing near, a great effort was
made to get as many through as possible, to give the very last chance to every
one. The Lords of the Flame came down from Venus expressly to stimulate things
just at that period or a little before it, and all the efforts that were put
forth then were chiefly with that aim in view, to give the opportunity to as
many as possible to make the change from the animal to the human kingdom before
the door was finally closed. Just as in infinitely smaller matters people make a
special effort, when there is a big chance opening before them, whether it be to
go to a bargain sale at a shop, or to pass an examination, so there seems to
have been something of the same kind on an infinitely vaster scale, at the time
of the last opportunity of leaving the animal kingdom and entering into the
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human in this particular incarnation of our chain of worlds.
There must then have been many who were not so very much above the animal
kingdom, who only just scraped through. Several hundred of the incarnations of
such people must have been spent in quite the lowest kind of savage condition,
and with hardly any interval between them; they were practically in physical
life all the time and only very gradually developed any astral possibilities.
There may have been some of those who might almost as well not have got through,
and at least such as those will be practically certain to drop out in the middle
of the fifth round. Still they will have had a considerable experience of human
life—from the middle of the fourth to the middle of the fifth round—so in the
next chain of worlds they will come in not quite at the beginning. They will
have passed through the primary classes and will be able to start again as very
decent savages. People as low as they could not do anything to throw themselves
very far back in evolution. They have not the power to make much progress, their
advance must necessarily be slow; but on the other hand they have so little
brain power that they could not throw themselves very far back.
Much is said in some ancient scriptures about people sinking back into the
animal kingdom. We have no direct evidence of any cases. There are other ways in
which men may come into touch with animal consciousness and suffer very terribly
through it, as I have
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explained in The Inner Life,1 but to reincarnate as an animal is not possible
now. We are now too far removed from the dividing line to be able to throw
ourselves back across it, whatever may have been possible in the distant
past. Not even the most determined black magicians can do it. We saw
something of those beings in activity during the first world war, because some
of the Lords of the Dark Face of Atlantis came back into incarnation. That
accounted for many of the horrors that took place. The karma which those
people made for themselves was unquestionably ghastly. I have once or twice seen
glimpses of the future karma of people who were much less guilty than some of
those; it is a sight one does not forget—a hideous nightmare. There are
people far short of these great meteors of crime who yet lay up for themselves
futures of horror—those who beat children, and those who vivisect animals. At
their future one looks with a shudder; but these are far worse. These have
done the same thing on a colossal scale, and for insane selfishness have
sacrificed half a world. Yet they do not become animals. In those rare cases in
which a personality has broken away, it lives a life somewhat like that of
Margrave in Bulwer Lytton's A Strange Story—the absolutely selfish man,
without conscience, without a soul behind to guide him. He will be a
terribly evil man, and may carry on his evil to a second incarnation.
It was stated by Madame Blavatsky that such a personality may in some cases
take another incarnation by seizing upon a baby body; there is no body
provided for 1 Op. cit., Vol. II, Section 1.
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him, but he may seize upon that of some child who has just died, and revivify it
and live in it, and so gain a second life. She spoke very little of these
subjects, but when she did allude to them it was with a lively horror impressive
to see. It was clear to us who heard her that she had herself at some time been
brought into contact with cases of this kind, because she shrank from speaking
pf them at all.
We understood from what she said that a second human reincarnation for such a
thing was not possible, but that it might happen that this decaying personality,
which still had a certain amount of the ego torn away and vivifying it, might
then descend into the animal kingdom. She told us once a very ghastly story
indeed of the way in which such a thing, still conscious, might drift backwards
in what she called devolution. She said, I remember, that some snakes were
inhabited by such entities as these, and that some of these things were
conscious that they had once been human. It is a horrible thing: it sounds a
kind of nightmare, but we may be comforted by the fact that it is an
exceptionally rare thing, that such a condition could be reached only by a
determine4 devotion of life after life to positive evil.
We have only a sprinkling of really wicked people in the world, and even they
mostly excuse themselves in some way. The burglar who steals your plate has
generally some theory that property is improperly distributed, and that he is
only taking the share which the Government or someone else ought to have given
him, that he is taking it from somebody who is unfairly in possession of
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a quantity of wealth which really ought to be distributed to all. People very
rarely do a wrong thing knowing it to be wrong. They always excuse themselves in
some way. They may see afterwards that the excuse was rather flimsy, but I
believe that at the time when a man does the wrong thing he practically always
justifies himself somehow. Much more than that is needed in order to attain to
the horrors of being a lost soul. The man must devote himself definitely and
intentionally to doing evil, must set himself against the current of evolution.
Such hideous possibilities are becoming rarer; humanity is making progress and
gaining more and more knowledge, and it becomes less and less possible as time
goes on for people of the dark side to obtain recruits. Even now they are really
relics of the past. We have heard much of vampires and were-wolves; such
creatures did exist and still are occasionally found. I have seen examples of
both, but do not expect to see any more. It is becoming less possible that men
should be able to sink into those depths. Instead of becoming vampires people
now fall into the grey world; that is a condition which we have, apparently,
introduced instead of vampirism. It is better, certainly, though it is bad
enough.
Life in the grey world after death is due to the entanglement of the astral body
with the etheric double. There are people who have no clear belief in life
beyond death, who yet hunger for continued existence. They would
1 Ante. p. 321.
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vaguely tell you that they believed in an after-state, but it amounts in reality
to a very strong doubt. As no life but the physical means anything to them, they
cling desperately to the physical body; so much so that after death the etheric
matter cannot be fully drawn away from the dense physical matter, as it is in
normal cases. Then you have a person for quite a longtime after death in a
condition which is neither one world nor the other. He retains an amount of
etheric matter which prevents him from using his astral senses fully, so that he
does not, as he should, slip into the astral world, and on the other hand he
cannot keep hold of the physical world, because he has lost his grasp of that,
though there is still some of the etheric matter left round him. Thus he is
suspended in what is sometimes called the grey world. In this condition he
obtains only little glimpses, occasional impressions of each world, but he is in
a very unsettled condition, struggling always to obtain full life somewhere. .
All that might fall from him in a single moment if he would let it, but often it
is a long time before he can do so.
The Chohan says that the changing life about us is formed by the hearts of men.
It is true that our outward conditions result from our inward thoughts and
feelings. Sometimes people complain about the state of society, government,
politics, religion, trade and education, but these very well express the inner
condition of the people who swarm in our cities. It is all formed by the hearts
of men. And even the less immediately caused human conditions of suffering and
joy, such as geological and
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climatic changes, even such as earthquakes and floods, become our environment on
account of karma which is due to our own feeling and thinking. We thus put
ourselves into our place in nature, according to our inward nature, our hearts,
and then we are apt to misunderstand it because we look at the forms instead of
at the life.
A great deal of what seems to most men actively evil may yet have its good side.
A physical plane example of this would be a terrible earthquake, like that which
devastated a great part of Sicily and Calabria in 1908, and killed over a
hundred and fifty thousand people, some suddenly, but others, I am afraid, with
a great deal of suffering. Many people would look upon that as an evil. It is
not evil for the world. It upheaves and changes the place of a great deal of the
earth's crust, and renovates the soil, and in that it distinctly does good to
the world. Look at Mount Vesuvius, in Italy, and you will see how after a
certain time all the volcanic matter which is thrown out becomes the very finest
fertile soil. But it destroys human life at the time. A thunderstorm, an
earthquake, a great flood, are not evil at all. They may release some men from
their physical bodies, but surely that does no harm to them, in any case; all
that arises in such catastrophes is a matter of karma, and in the long run it
assuredly works out for their good.
The Theosophist ought to understand quite clearly that death is not in itself an
evil, but is very often given as a reward. Our general attitude in this matter
is due to wrong religious teaching. There is implanted in every
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one of us the desire for self-preservation, the instinct to try to save our
physical body from injury or destruction. That is a very wise and necessary
instinct. We ought to protect our physical bodies, to make them last as long as
we can; because, if one may venture to express it so with all reverence, the
Logos has taken the trouble to put us into this incarnation, it is clearly our
duty to make of it as much as we can.1
But there sometimes comes an opportunity when the very noblest use that we can
make of our incarnation is to risk it, even to throw it away, as happens to a
soldier who goes forth on a forlorn hope, knowing that he must be killed, and
yet that his death is a necessary part of a great scheme which will end in
victory. Such a man puts his incarnation to the noblest use when he lays it down
voluntarily, when he throws it away; but for most of us and under ordinary
conditions our duty is to take all reasonable precautions, and try to make our
bodies last as long as we can; otherwise we cause a great deal of trouble by
shortening our lives.
Some people have been a little foolish in their confidence in the protection
which they expect the Masters to give to them. They say: "As long as I do the
Master's work I need not take any precautions against infection when I visit
people who are ill. I am sure he will take care of me. I will plunge into the
water although I cannot swim; I am sure he will support me." Perhaps he will, if
he thinks it worth while; but what right has anyone to put him to the trouble of
doing 1 Ante., p. 177.
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that which with a little ordinary common sense he might have done for himself?
If it be our work to visit those suffering from infectious diseases, I think
instead of blindly trusting to the Master to protect us, we ought to save him
trouble by taking ordinary precautions. We ought to do all we can on our side.
If he chooses to supplement that, it is his affair. It would be very wrong of us
to calculate upon it beforehand. Such interventions do happen, but we have no
right to expect them. I have seen strange things myself along those lines, but I
should never willingly put the Master to the trouble of having especially to
protect me against anything, when I can reasonably guard myself.
The instinct of self-preservation is for the advantage of the race. It is a
right thing, but the brave man is always ready to risk pain and danger and even
life itself for higher objects. The man who knows that death is not the greatest
evil will be very willing to risk it for the sake of averting a greater
evil—-just what hundreds of thousands of our fellow-men did in the war. We know
that death is not the end of everything, as people so often think, and for us a
catastrophe like that of Messina is not terrible simply because a large number
of people were suddenly thrown out of their bodies on to the astral plane. When
I was in America there was a great fire in a theatre in Chicago, in which a
large number of women and children were killed. Some of our members came to me
and asked: " How can it be that Providence really governs the world, when all
these innocent women and children have been killed? " I said to them: " Do
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you think that only men ever deserve the reward of a rapid release from the
earth ? " That was a new point of view to them, that this might really be a
kindness releasing them from troublesome conditions of various kinds, so that
they might start again in better circumstances.
So we should not regard that great earthquake as an evil, merely because it
suddenly threw a number of people on to the astral plane. The cases of those who
were imprisoned and died slowly were comparatively few. There were some who were
burned to death, and some who were buried among the ruins. Those would seem to
us cases of very terrible suffering, but even then we must apply our Theosophy
in- the extreme cases as well as in the ordinary cases and realize that the
great suffering of an occasional individual probably wiped out from his account
karma which might have taken twenty ordinary lives to cancel. Therefore, while
we should feel the greatest pity for the people who suffered in that way, and
should do all in our power to help them, still we are not to mourn over them as
though the whole thing were useless. It is a short but drastic way of getting
rid of the result of a great deal of evil—truly terrible, but yet, when it is
over, see how much has been gained.
We have compared painful experiences roughly—it is not wise to press an analogy
too far—to the slow natural curing of some serious disease in one case, and the
curing of it in another case by a surgical operation. The surgical operation is
dreadful to pass through but when it is over the trouble ought to be done with.
A slow cure might mean in the aggregate even more suffering,
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distributed over many years. I suppose we must take terrible pieces of karma as
karmic surgical operations. We do not sympathize, in the ordinary sense of the
word, with the dead, because we know that they are far better off than before.
With the relations who mourn their loss we do sympathize. But even then let us
correct the mistake which causes people to feel horror at those things, and to
think that God can no longer be good since He permits them. The experiences are
terrible indeed but the result of the whole process is invariably good.
We must rise altogether above personal points of view to see how all is working
together for good, and how the life in others is threading its way through the
maze of karma to the feet of the Eternal. The Chohan says we must read the
larger word, take the larger view, of life. Doing this, we shall never classify
people in the smaller way. We shall not, for example, think of religious men
merely as churchmen and dissenters, but as devotional men. So also we shall
think of statesmen not merely as tories or radicals. We shall take wider views,
and regard our fellows as men of thought, or of love or of will, according to
the type of human conscious activity that dominates their lives. We shall
qualify them according to their rays; adopting this deeper classification, we
get nearer to the heart of reality, and find ourselves better able to understand
life.
It is very difficult to understand fully all the different types, but we should
try to do so. The Adept does understand quite fully, and sympathizes with every
possible type; but it takes an Adept to do that. Our duty
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is to try; however impossible the point of view of the other man may seem at
first, one must try to understand it. This does not for a moment mean that one
must adopt his outlook; we have just as much right to our own point of view as
this other man has to his, but he has also just as much right to his standpoint
as we have to ours. A man who can sympathize with those who entirely and
radically differ from himself has already made a considerable step towards
understanding at least a section of the world in which he lives.
It is very clear that what the Master says here is a definite command for the
disciple—we must learn to understand every type of person as fully as we can;
and whenever we can use influence in any way to get people out of their ruts,
that is a good thing to do. It must always be done with understanding, however,
for sometimes we may not be able to get a person out on our side of the rut; we
may actually throw him into a less desirable condition by what we teach him. I
have known that to happen.
Those whose memories go back to the older Theosophical literature will perhaps
remember that it was not very sympathetic to the Church. Madame Blavatsky
herself was a little impatient of the orthodox presentation of religion. She had
evidently seen a very great deal of the effect of ignorant religious belief in
cramping the minds and souls of the people, and sometimes she made quite a
severe attack against the narrow religious beliefs that were taught. I think she
did not always stop to tell people that there was another and
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higher side to it all. She was a deadly foe to superstition in any and every
form, and she was more concerned in shaking the people out of their
superstitions than with providing them with anything else. Probably those people
needed just that shaking out, and required to be treated in that drastic way.
Probably they could not have been brought immediately to our outlook on life.
I knew Dr. Besant when her attacks on Christianity were even more slashing than
Madame Blavatsky's. She would address large numbers of freethinkers in the Hall
of Science in London, and when they had a Christian evidence man or a clergyman
defending orthodoxy, it was interesting to listen to her, for she was probably
the greatest debater of the time. I have heard her debate before and after she
came into Theosophy. The Theosophical debate was much more charitable than the
previous type, but it was not nearly as interesting. She pointed out very gently
and kindly the weak points of the other side, and dropped inconvenient questions
as much as she could, out of consideration for the feelings of the other party.
When first I heard her debate she pushed her advantage to the full, and made it
much more interesting, though not pleasantly so for her opponent.
Her power is just as great to-day, but she uses it so much more mercifully that
one does not see it in debate to anything like the same extent. She has now what
perhaps in her free-thought days she had not, this faculty of understanding
everybody. She has that very wonderful power; but she has acquired it by
definite work. She has grown into it by making herself understand other
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people and by putting herself in their places. In her free-thought days, when I
first heard her debate, she certainly did not put herself in the place of her
opponent, whom she sometimes reduced to stuttering imbecility by the faultless
logic and the violence of her attacks.
The man who wants to understand all, who wants fully to learn this larger view
of life, must also identify himself with the lower kingdoms, must understand
nature as a whole as far as he can. He must enter into a sympathetic attitude
towards the great Devas, the nature-spirits, the spirits of the trees and of the
country-side. We seem to have lost that in these modern civilizations, though
here and there we find a poet, an author or an artist who has it. Because they
had it, such men as Ruskin and Turner could write and paint as they did.
In ancient Greece we looked at things very differently from the way in which
people regard them now. Everything in nature meant much more to us then than it
does in these days, except to the few who are artistic. We thought less about
money and business, and we enjoyed nature more. It is well to understand such a
point of view as that. In the development of the lower mind, and in sharpening
it on the business and practical side of life our modern races have lost very
much, though unquestionably they have also gained a great deal—the faculty of
managing a great many things at once and also that of concentration under
exceedingly difficult circumstances, amid the fearful noise and racket and tear
of this civilization. We had nothing like that in Greece;
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we could not travel about so quickly, but we saw very much more when we did
travel.
I think we should try to recover the ancient outlook to some extent, by entering
into the life and glory and beauty of the world which is all around us. The
surroundings that man makes in these times are rarely beautiful, but in the days
when men understood nature more, they did not spoil her forms nearly so much.
The Greeks could build temples which were not out of place amidst the most
beautiful nature surroundings. Perhaps we also will learn to combine beauty with
usefulness; for example, we may learn to erect a building like a cathedral to be
used as a factory; but in the meantime it is one of the weak points in this
civilization that it is out of sympathy with nature in all her deeper aspects,
so that we need cultivation to acquire what was inborn in the Greeks—sympathy
with nature. When one reads Ruskin's Queen of the Air one begins to understand a
little of it.
Let us try to make all-round progress. We have all lived in races of the past
which made beauty their principal influence—which had leisure and largeness of
life. We, therefore, have it all in the ego. Our present life crushes it down to
a great extent, but it needs only to be appealed to, and it will break through
the barrier. That can be done, and it is worth doing even if only from a selfish
point of view, for we should then enjoy life far more fully.
There are some people who feel disharmony with nature, who say that we are
surrounded by " evil
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influences," and that the world is full of scorpions and snakes and tigers.
There is no inherent wickedness in a snake or a scorpion or a hornet, but they
are all exceedingly easily irritated, and entirely—as we should say if they were
human—unscrupulous as to the methods they employ. They simply run amuck, and
sting or bite every one near by, if they happen to be a little annoyed; but you
cannot call them wicked creatures, because they are not doing this with
malignity. They are very full of life, so they plunge about and injure anyone
who happens to come in their way.
It is the same in the astral and etheric regions as well. There are plenty of
the lower types of nature-spirits who are not wicked, not seeking to do evil,
but are very unpleasant creatures to deal with—the sort to be avoided.
Fortunately it is easier to avoid these things on the astral plane than in the
physical world, because a strong wish is sufficient there to drive them away
from you. Creatures of that sort will take advantage of you if you lay yourself
open to their influence. Many of them, as I have before explained, are delighted
to find a man in a royal rage. They do not in the least care why he is angry—I
am not at all sure that they know that a man is involved—but when they find a
vortex of vivid coarse vibrations which happen to suit them they plunge in and
enjoy it and stimulate it, and in every possible way make more and more of it.
Vibrations of cruelty are greatly enjoyed by some of these creatures, and there
is no doubt that they are eager to seize upon one who has this vice, and stir
him up to
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greater cruelty than the man himself would ever have thought of. If you let
anger take hold of you, you may do and say all kinds of things you would not
wish to do in the least. The same is true of cruelty; certainly it is also true
of jealousy, envy and hatred. When a man plunges into any one of these passions,
it is as though the astral body suddenly became alive and vindictive, because it
is seized upon by a quantity of-these creatures. It is very difficult for us to
feel at all kindly towards them. We naturally think of the bad effect that they
produce upon us. Yet the poor thing is only enjoying himself after his kind.
That does not, however, excuse our letting him get hold of us; we ought to have
risen above it. But we have to remember that all kinds of intensifications of
that sort do take place, and when we are studying our fellow-men we must
constantly make allowances for them.
There are vast forces moving round us of which most men have very little idea.
We all know that in a general sort of way. We know that forces such as public
opinion press upon us without our feeling them but we do not quite realize,
perhaps, the tremendous strength of the law of evolution and the many and
diverse ways in which it is acting all about us. God hides Himself in matter,
but He is not dead because He hides Himself there; all the time His activities,
His forces, are playing upon all His creatures. When they are acting strongly on
a man they stir him up, and that is somewhat like the stirring up of a pool. All
the water is put into motion, and whatever there is in the pool is churned up
and brought
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to the surface. The pool may become very muddy for the time being by the
process, but by it one learns what was lying at the bottom; it is better that
the water should be stirred up, even if there is mud, than to let it stagnate
and go hopelessly to the bad. So sometimes all this disturbance which is a part
of His divine life brings out in people qualities which are undesirable.
It might be suggested that it would be better for a person if he had not been
stirred up, but that is not so. He has for the time being been made more
alive—disagreeably so, but it is better that the unpleasant qualities should
come to the surface. Then he will know of them, and his friends, who see them
too, may help him; whereas otherwise they might remain unnoticed, and might
produce seriously bad effects when an opportunity occurred for their being
stirred up later on. So sometimes it is the very divine force itself which
brings forth activities which seem undesirable. We may be very sure that He who
doeth all things, doeth all things well. He knows what He is doing, and when He
stirs up foul matter of some kind it is in order that it should be expelled,
though at the time it does not always look well or hopeful for evolution. We
have constantly to remember that every man we see is on a different rung of the
ladder of evolution, so that what for one is very good, even necessary, is
precisely that which would be harmful for another. We have to watch, and learn
how to be entirely impartial and not to judge hastily, whatever happens. All
lives are in the Logos and are quite definitely part of His life; so it follows
that all these things are really His
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aspects and expressions. In that way we have kinship with all these
manifestations, and a duty towards them. We may have opportunities of helping
one and not another; we must take what comes in our way to do.
10. Learn to look intelligently into the hearts of men.
Study the hearts of men that you may know what is that world in which you live
and of which you will to be a part.
In this Rule the word heart is used symbolically; we must look into the whole
nature of man as far as we can; not only into his feelings, which are usually
represented by the heart, but into his mental processes as well. We are required
to try to understand him deeply, and to do that we must search for the
manifestation of the ego in him.
When we see men round us acting in ways different from our own we often exclaim:
" Whatever could have made the man do such a thing as that? We could not
conceive of ourselves doing that particular thing under any circumstances, and
we cannot see why our fellow-man should do it." Most of us have rather given up
many such riddles long ago, because they seem almost impossible to understand. I
cannot understand, for example, why huge crowds should go to see a boxing-match;
I cannot see what is the interest in it, because to me the whole thing is a
brutal exhibition. If it were a question of paying, I should prefer to pay to go
away somewhere not to see it. If I think over it carefully and
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try to reason it out, I find that perhaps the attraction is an exhibition of
skill—of a certain brutal and degraded sort, but nevertheless it is skill—and
perhaps there is also the idea of courage and staying power.
In the same way numbers of people stand about the corners of the streets,
guffawing and talking in coarse and raucous voices. What pleasure they get out
of it I do not understand in the very least; still, there they are, and they
constitute a large section of human beings, whom we ought more or less to try to
understand.
People do all kinds of strange things. Sometimes they fall into ecstasies of
jealousy over nothing in particular. At others, one sees people acutely affected
by what somebody else says about them. You apply reason, and say that it does
not in the very least matter what other people say, because it does not do them
any harm. But the fact remains that they are very strongly and seriously
affected. We ought to understand why, to some extent, if we can. I quite admit
it is out of the question in many cases; still manifestly it is our business to
try to understand our fellow-men.
Some people might say that it is not an interesting study. It is not interesting
for us personally, if we are thinking about that; but it is interesting from the
larger point of view. Since we think of ourselves as having evolved a little
further than these people, it is very clearly our duty to help them, but without
understanding our help will be futile. It is very true that the things in which
most of these people are interested do not interest us, but that is only a
symptom of our having grown a
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little beyond them in the age of the soul. The soul grows, and people become
more rational as they advance.
Small children do all sorts of things that we cannot understand. Boys and girls
of thirteen or fourteen have a set of motives which are somewhat nearer to ours,
but still we do not know why they do what they do. We have to go back to our own
youth before we can realize at all what they are doing and how things will
strike them. It is always difficult; I know that well, because I have had very
much to do at one time and another with boys and young people. If you put an
idea before them in a certain way, in the hope that they may perhaps take it as
you take it, sometimes they do, but often they approach it from quite another
point of view, and decide upon it for reasons which would never have occurred to
you. Sometimes you can make out what they are aiming at, but sometimes you
cannot. Schoolmasters and other people who have much to do with boys and girls
ought to make it part of their business to try to understand their bizarre lines
of thought and feeling, because then they are more likely to avoid offending the
young people.
That is an extreme case, but you have to do the same thing with the adult people
round you. If you are desirous to help them you must try to put yourself in
their place; that is what is meant here by learning to look intelligently into
the hearts of men. They have their prejudices and you have yours; it is highly
probable that the prejudices are different in some ways, and so you
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have to discover the other person's point of view and make allowance for it.
Endeavour to find how he arrives at his position and why his particular
prejudice exists, so that perhaps you may be able to help him to surmount it.
Prejudice is indeed very subtle. It is so strong and so ingrained generally that
the man does not know it is there; he does not believe that he requires any
help, and it is therefore often difficult to give it without offence. Still, it
is a very great advantage to a man if he can be helped somehow to get rid of his
prejudice. In order to succeed in that work and do it skilfully, you must find
out just why the man thinks this or that, and how his prejudice arose. Your own
prejudice in the matter will have to be put aside resolutely; otherwise you will
be dragging him from one false point of view to another.
Most of the causes of people's strange interests arise in their astral bodies.
The mental body is only in process of being developed. This fact can be seen in
all the phenomena that surround us in the mental plane after death. When the
average better class man passes into the astral world he is fully capable of
taking an intelligent part in the life of that plane, though some do and some do
not, and some soon get the matter of their bodies rearranged, and thereby become
greatly limited in capacity. The astral body has its faculties well developed;
they are ready for use, though many people do not know what they ought to do and
how they ought to use them. When those who have made some study of these matters
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pass to the astral plane, they find themselves in a vehicle which expresses them
more fully than did the physical body; but when they reach the heaven-world it
is generally not so.
There we usually find them working inside the mental body, and so very much shut
up in it that it is really-more of a shell for them than an expression of their
life. That is what is meant by all that is written so strongly in the older
books as to the fact that men in the heaven-world are shut away from all the
rest. It is often spoken of as though it were a reserved part of the mental
plane. It is not that, but each man shuts himself up in his own shell, and
therefore he takes no part in the life of the mental plane at all; he does not
move about freely and deal with people as he does in the astral plane. The only
openings in his shell through which life outside can reach him are those windows
which he has made for himself by developing his mental body on certain lines.
Whatever the man has done with his mental body lays him open to mental
influences. Whatever it is, he will reap the result during his heaven-life, and
he can to some extent communicate with the outside world through that. But the
results which he will be able to produce upon the inhabitants of that plane will
be much less on the whole than those which they will produce upon him, because
it is often only through very narrow channels that he is able to express himself
at all on that plane.
That very fact, which for a long time in the earlier days of our Theosophical
study we did not understand shows that the mental body of the average man is
only
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partially developed. When we come to look at the manifestations down here in the
physical world we find that the same thing is true. Probably every one has
experienced these limitations in other people; we can find them in ourselves if
we wish, but we see these things more readily in others than in ourselves. When
you talk to strangers about Theosophy, for example, you will find that some of
them take it up with great eagerness, and others do not know what you are
talking about. They listen to what you say, and they say: " Yes, yes," but they
are obviously not interested. The usual reason for this difference between
people is that some of them have met ideas of this sort in previous lives and
others have not. Anyone who had a birth in ancient India or ancient Egypt, or
who was sufficiently respectable to enter the Mysteries in Greece or Rome, will
already have had some touch with these ideas. Some will have gone deeply into
the matter, and by doing so will have developed that part of their mental bodies
which is able to think of ideas such as these. Others cannot understand, and
they do not care about it. If you could get them to read a page about Theosophy
they would not remember it.
The brain must be educated along the line in which we want it to work, and that
is precisely what we do in Theosophy. Those people who take it up readily and
eagerly do so partly because it answers many questions which they have been
asking themselves, and partly because they have thought to some extent along
such lines in other lives. Their brains are already opened so
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far as that part of them is concerned; it is very hard work for the person whose
brain is not yet at all opened, as regards the philosophical part of it, to try
to understand Theosophy. You give him a simple explanation and he probably
assimilates only a very few of the broad ideas. The fact is that men need a
great deal of preparation. The average man cannot see anything in it. I am not
for the moment talking about his being clever or stupid, but simply of the fact
that he is not conversant with this line of thought. He requires a good deal of
preparation. He gains this for the most part through religion, and in religion
he ought to be gradually trained. A fully developed religion ought to be able to
meet all classes of people. All religions in the beginning do that, but as time
goes on some of them lose one part and some another, and sometimes they
crystallize along undesirable lines.
If we are to try to understand men we must remember the extent to which they are
developed or undeveloped. We must remember that the mental body is not as yet
fully developed, and therefore necessarily the causal body, which is higher, is
still less developed. Sometimes people who have studied Theosophy and have
therefore understood a great deal about life and developed their minds along
that line, are apt to rest upon their laurels and think that they have done all
that is needful in the development of the mind. But often that is not the case,
and sooner or later they must undertake some form of intellectual work or mental
training.
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What we should like to study in every man is the working of the soul, yet it is
not every one who gives us that opportunity, and in our endeavours to understand
we must bear that in mind. On the one hand we must always expect the highest
from every man; we must confidently assume that he will do what we feel he
ought to do, because the fact of our taking that mental attitude will very much
help him to do it. Again and again one sees that if a man who has, perhaps, been
mixed up in shady transactions is treated honourably, and shown that honour is
expected from him, he will rise to it. On the other hand, if we meet him with
suspicion, he will probably soon deserve that suspicion. Yet too much must not
be expected from people; we should assume that they are going to do the highest,
and should try by our thought to help them to do it, but when they fail we
should not be impatient or angry with them, because evolution is a very slow
process and a man can manifest only as much as he has developed.
There is never any use in feeling annoyance because someone falls below our
standard; we should not blame a man for being what he is, for being at the stage
at which he has arrived in evolution. When a person is developed to a high
standard and then fails in some way, one may feel: " That is a pity; because he
knows so much better than that," but there is no reason or use in being annoyed.
While we must think the best of our fellow-men and must always try to help them
to rise to the best that is in them, yet we must take it philosophically if.
they fail to do that. We must not show
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annoyance or impatience, but just try to help them where they are. That, I
think, is the lesson we are meant to learn when we are told to look into their
lives and hearts, and try to understand them.
There now comes a long note by the Master Hilarion, which we may take up with
advantage bit by bit. He says:
From an absolutely impersonal point of view, otherwise your sight is coloured.
Therefore impersonality must first be understood.
We commonly speak of being impersonal when we mean being just or balanced, when
we do not bring into our decision anything of our own likes or dislikes, when we
act as a judge does on the bench. But the Master means more than that. He holds
impersonality to mean the condition in which the personality is for the time
entirely transcended so that not only do we in the personal life regard
everything with perfect impartiality, but also we look at things from the point
of view of the ego. That is a much more difficult achievement; to do it fully
would mean having the causal body fully developed. Humanity at large is still
developing the lower mental body. Students of occultism are trying to do
something more than that, but as yet there are comparatively few among them who
can use the causal body with any kind of certainty. In the beginning the student
must therefore reason put for himself what the view of the soul would be, and
then follow it, eliminating everything else.
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It is hard to be impersonal. If there is a dispute between two people, one of
whom is a personal friend whom you know very thoroughly, while the other is a
stranger, it is scarcely humanly possible to avoid a certain amount of bias in
favour of the friend. The reason for that bias is quite a good one—you know more
about that person, and the more you know of him the better you come to
understand him and the more you will make allowances for him.
We can hardly help being a little prejudiced in favour of a friend. I do not
think we always realize how very much we are the creatures of circumstances and
surroundings. We happen to be born in a certain suburb of a certain big city. We
grow up to know a certain small circle; out of that small circle we choose some
friends. Presently one may move and then acquire new friends in other places,
but in the beginning the friendships which we form are a question generally of
where we happen to be. If we had been born in another suburb, we should probably
have had quite a different set of friends.
Sometimes people who have been brought together fall in love and marry. They
cannot understand that if they had happened to be born somewhere else they would
probably have felt just the same to some other person. There is much in
propinquity. I know karma comes in, too, in many cases, but these matters are
quite often the result of propinquity. We are strongly influenced by our human
as well as by our other surroundings. Therefore it is difficult to make this
research into
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the hearts of other men, and finally into our own hearts.
We are in the habit of thinking of everything as it happens to affect us. Many
people are incapable of taking the wider view, and seeing how it affects the
nation as a whole. We have plenty of instances of that in these days when almost
everybody has a vote. Quantities of people can think only how the result of the
election is likely to affect them personally; they seem incapable of
understanding that there is a duty to the community. It is not that they
wilfully put the thought of themselves before the thought of the community, but
that it never occurs to them that there is a wider point of view.
There are three ways in which the soul may be developed and may influence our
lives, as I have explained before.1 One is that of the great scientists and
philosophers of the world, who have developed not only the lower mind, but to a
considerable extent the higher as well, so that a great deal of .its more
abstract kind of thought, its wonderful comprehensive way of thinking, comes
down into what they think, although they cannot perhaps express it in their
writing. Those who have an attraction for that way, will have to pass through
the stage of being the great scientist or philosopher; the buddhic development
will come much later.
Secondly, through the higher emotions, such as strong affection, devotion or
sympathy, it is possible to awaken
1 Ante., Vol. II, pp. 332-3. Vol. III, p. 47.
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the buddhic principle to a great extent, without developing especially the
intermediate causal body, yet not without affecting it, since all buddhic
development reacts very powerfully on the causal. The method of working of most
of our students is to use the higher emotions and work from them upon the
buddhic vesture. I do not mean that they are yet developing a buddhic vehicle in
which they can permanently live. That would be an eminently desirable thing to
do, but it is perhaps beyond the reach of most as yet; but the use of the higher
emotions unquestionably evokes vibrations in the buddhic matter. It stirs up the
as yet unformed buddhic vehicle so that many of its vibrations come down and
brood over the man's astral body; thus one may gain a considerable amount of
influence from that plane before the vehicle is at all fully developed.
There is also another and more obscure path in which the will is called into
activity; just as the astral body reacts on the buddhic and the lower on the
higher mental vehicle, so does the physical somehow react on the nirvanic. I
know very little indeed of how it works. But the way of most students is through
devotion to the Masters and keen sympathy with their fellow-men.
Intelligence is impartial: no man is your enemy: no man is your friend. All
alike are your teachers. Your enemy becomes a mystery that must be solved, even
though it take ages: for man must be understood.
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If you have friends you may indeed be very thankful, but in this particular
matter you look on them impersonally, as from above, and say: " These are my
friends; why have we as souls been thrown together? " Then probably you will
find that either there are points of great similarity between you, or you are
complementary to each other—you go well together in your vibrations and so make
a satisfactory whole.
In the same way, from this impersonal point of view no man is your enemy. If
anyone foolishly puts himself in that position, you say: " Why should he be
doing this? He could not have these feelings towards me unless somewhere in the
past I myself had given him cause for it. Let me see if I can discover the
cause, and whether there is any way in which his attitude can be changed."
Your friend becomes a part of yourself, an extension of yourself, a riddle hard
to read. Only one thing is more difficult to know—your own heart. Not until the
bonds of personality be loosed can that profound mystery of self begin to be
seen.
However well one knows a person, even after many years of friendship, one yet
sometimes touches a layer of his consciousness which is strange. It has been
said, and I think with great truth, that no human being ever perfectly knows
another, not even after a long life together.1 The Adept must know. That
1 Ante, Vol. I, Part V, Ch, 2: Love in Daily Life.
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is one of the great comforts of being associated with the Masters; we are so
absolutely certain that they know much more about us than we know about
ourselves, that they really know us all through. We see in ourselves weaknesses
and failings, and we try so far as we can to deal effectively with them; but we
may also have other failings that we have not seen, which may come out in great
emergencies of moments of strain. It is then a comfort to think that, if there
be such things, the Master knows about them, and he will sooner or later bring
to the surface anything that we do not know already, and will thus help us to
remove it. Those whom he draws nearer to himself in the relation of discipleship
at least have this consolation, that they cannot be hopelessly bad, even though
well-justified modesty may make them think poorly enough of themselves.
At all stages of inner progress the necessary work must be done by us, and with
our own will behind it. Even the Master himself cannot do it for us, though he
can and does help us by his magnetism, affection and sympathy, as well as by
indirect influence which he gives through various pupils of his. He can help us
along the way only if we make such karma as allows him to do it. We must make
ourselves fit for the opportunity and then, when it is given, by taking it
thoroughly we shall become ready for the next one.
Without this the Master has not the right to help, because he also is under the
great law of karma, and however willing he may be to lift us straight up to the
Adept level, he cannot do it. But that we shall receive
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his invaluable help on the road as soon as we deserve it is very certain; for
even he is a friend in the common acceptance of the term. He cannot give us
something which we have not earned; he can really help us only when we have
become one with Him.
Not till you stand aside from it, will it in any way reveal itself to your
understanding. Then, and not till then, can you grasp and guide it. Then, and
not till then, can you use all its powers, and devote them to a worthy service.
The Master is clearly thinking here of the higher self, the ego in his causal
body, grasping and guiding the lower self. As we have seen before, all of this
is to be understood at different levels, according to whether you are dealing
with those who are pupils or with the Adept himself. For some the task is that
the ego in his causal body shall learn to control and direct the personality
down here. For others it is that the Monad shall take hold of and direct the
ego. And when that has been achieved, which is the case of the Adept, even then
he will still have to take whatever it may be that is next higher to that Monad
and convert the Monad to be a perfect expression of that.1
11. Regard most earnestly your own heart.
for through your own heart comes the one light which can illuminate life and
make it clear to your eyes.
1 Ante., p. 196.
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Unless you recognize God within yourself you can never find Him outside. Through
your own heart comes the one light which can illuminate life and make it clear
to your eyes. Its evocation can be very much helped from without. Your Master
himself cannot give you that light, though he can help you to awaken it within
yourself; it must come from within, and it is within, whether you know it or
not.
It surely ought to be a very great blessing and encouragement to us when we find
so strongly emphasized in Theosophical teaching the fact that the Divine is
within us and we are essentially part of it. We forget it many times, and allow
ourselves to fall away from the consciousness of it, so that temporarily we take
short views and are unable to grasp the width and the depth and the glory of His
plan. People forget, or perhaps never knew, that they are one with the Divine,
and that it is only by coming nearer and nearer to the expression of that
Divinity that they can ever attain real development or happiness, or indeed any
truth which shall put them right with the rest of the world. It has been
universally recognized by all mystics that it is only through the God within
that we can come into touch truly with the God without. The Master has said in
another place: " If you cannot see it within yourself, then it is useless to
look elsewhere."
CHAPTER 5 RULE 13
C.W.L.—At this point in Part II of Light on the Path the numbering of the rules
undergoes a change. We have no longer sets of three aphorisms from the old
manuscript, followed by a comment by the Chohan, Rule 13, to which we have now
come, is given by the Chohan.
13. Speech comes only with knowledge. Attain to knowledge and you will
attain to speech.
The Master Hilarion's note on that says:
It is impossible to help others till you have obtained some certainty of your
own.
One may study the Theosophical system thoroughly, look at it from all points of
view, compare it with other ideas which attempt to account for the state of
affairs we see in the world, come to the definite conclusion that it is very
much the best hypothesis before the world, and consequently accept it as true. I
suppose one cannot quite call that knowledge, but it is at least a full and
reasonable conviction upon which one can act with certainty.
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If we examine the orthodox Christian statement we see at once that it lacks
stability and is inconsistent; though it professes to account for everything it
can hardly be said to offer a satisfactory theory. That is why many Christians
fear to think. When we come to the Theosophical explanation of life, however, we
see that we are on firm ground. Suppose someone comes from outside as an
inquirer; he may feel that some of our statements are too strong, direct and
positive, and may ask: " What evidence have you that these things are so? " He
may doubt the accuracy of some particular statements. But no one could deny,
taking the philosophy as a whole, that it is at least a coherent theory, and if
it be true it does account for everything. That in many cases is all that can be
claimed for scientific theories. We have before us a certain number of facts;
the hypothesis has to account for those facts; here is one which is clearly
better than the others, which explains better than the rest all that has been
observed; therefore we accept that as provisionally true.
When I came to a knowledge of Theosophy I was already a priest of the Anglican
Church, yet I doubted a great many of the dogmas put forward by the Church, and
always avoided preaching any dogma, but taught morality and illustrated it. Here
in Theosophy was a reasonable theory, and because it was so reasonable I was
very willing indeed to take it. I had then little proof, yet even at that stage
I had as much proof for it as we have for a vast number of the facts in
astronomy. I had as much evidence for it as we have, for example,
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for many widely-accepted theories in chemistry or physics. Certain experiments
are explained by those theories, but there are a good many other things which
are not yet explained.
Then came for me the further step of meeting Madame Blavatsky, seeing in
relation with her certain things which proved some of her contentions. Of course
that did not necessarily prove the truth of all the rest, but very soon, within
three years after coming into the Society, I knew of my own knowledge of the
existence of the Great Teachers whom she had described. To find that much true
was very good evidence towards the truth of the other statements, especially as
they all fitted in so beautifully and made so perfect a system.
Later, I became able to investigate for myself many of these questions, and so
far as I have yet gone I have found no error in any of the great truths which
she laid before us. In her books she gave a vast mass of teaching; as to the
meaning of some of it I am not yet in a position to speak from direct knowledge.
There are also some statements which I cannot yet understand; but the more I
have learnt myself the more I have realized how much she knew. Therefore, while
she admitted that there were many mistakes in her books, I have given up looking
for them. At first, when we came to anything we did not understand, we thought
it was one of the mistakes; later we found the mistake was with ourselves—we had
not fully understood. Errors exist, no doubt, and when we know a great deal more
we shall probably come across them.
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I suspect certain statements of belonging to that class, but am unwilling to
assume that they do until I know it to be so—one prefers to take her statements
with great respect.
Having definite knowledge ourselves, it is true that we can speak with greater
conviction. I have had that said with regard to myself. People have said that
they found my conversation convincing. Others without direct knowledge but far
more eloquent than I have put these matters from their point of view; and yet
people have said: "Yes, but do you know it?" I have replied: " Yes, I do, but
how do you know I do, although I tell you it is so? " " We do not know," they
would answer, " but somehow we feel when a man is speaking of that which he
himself knows, and when he is speaking of that which he has merely read and
studied." There are all sorts of analogies for the idea that it is impossible to
help others till you have obtained some certainty of your own. If you want to
lift a person out of stormy waters your own feet must be on the rock.
When one soul knows, it conveys its certainty to other souls, and they recognize
that certainty; even though down on the physical plane and with the physical
brain they probably could not give any reasons, they feel it when a man really
knows. It would be impossible for a man to help others along the line of higher
development, or to draw pupils nearer to their Masters, unless he knew for
himself.
This difference is clearly marked in the Theosophical Manuals, most of which
were written by Dr. Besant.
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The first three— The Seven Principles of Man, Reincarnation and Death and
After—were written before she could see any of these things, for herself.
She very soon recognized that The Secret Doctrine, wonderful as it is, was most
difficult for the average student, and that he would not get out of it one-tenth
of what was there unless he could have some preliminary study to prepare for it.
So she set to work with her characteristic energy and prepared certain epitomes
for her people, simply writing them from her own study of the books, and from
answers to questions which she had asked Madame Blavatsky. I doubt whether any
other person could have taken The Secret Doctrine alone and got out of it what
she did. She has a wonderful power of welding things together and making them
clear. However, by the time she got to the fourth Manual, which was Karma,
she was beginning to see the working of these things for herself. Then I
wrote The Astral Plane and The Devachanic Plane, and she wrote the seventh
Manual, Man and His Bodies. By the time she wrote the last she had fully learnt
to see for herself. There is a distinct difference in style in both Karma
and in Man and His Bodies. Both those Manuals show that she knew what she was
talking about at first hand. In the other books she was quoting, and although
she wove in the different quotations with wonderful skill, the first three
Manuals contain a great deal which is not quite clear, and is difficult to
understand. She has often said she would like to rewrite them, but she is
always writing other books, and has never had time. Also she has had the idea
that they are
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historical documents, to show what we knew and what we did not know at that
stage.
In the early days most of us had a very incomplete idea of the scheme of things;
there were many gaps in our theories. Mr. A. P. Sinnett's Esoteric Buddhism was
the first effort to make a fairly complete and orderly statement. That book was
based entirely upon a vast number of letters which were received by Mr. Sinnett
through pupils of the Master Kuthumi. At first we attributed all the answers
directly to the Master himself, but afterwards we found that they came, if one
may put it so, from his office, from his entourage. There was a vast amount of
information in the letters, which were largely answers to questions propounded
by Mr. Sinnett. It was out of those that Mr. Sinnett's earlier books were
written.
It is Dr. Besant who has done most of the work of tabulating Theosophical
knowledge for us, who has arranged facts and made them so that he who runs may
read. In those earlier days we had to study much harder in order to grasp
Theosophical truths. But one can see the difference between even her work,
splendid as it was, at a time when she was guided only by the books, and when
she saw the things for herself. Madame Blavatsky saw many things for herself,
but her mind, so far as we could understand it, for it was a very gigantic mind,
worked somewhat differently from ours. If one may say it with respect and
reverence, it was of an Atlantean type in that it massed together vast
accumulations of facts but did not make much effort at arranging
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them. Swami T. Subba Row said that The Secret Doctrine was a heap of precious
stones. There is no question that they are precious stones, but one must
classify them for oneself; she did not attempt to do that for us, for she did
not feel the need of it at all.
In the course of my own study I have repeatedly come upon ideas which were quite
new to me, and have noted them down, thinking of them not exactly as
discoveries, but as ideas that were fresh to me; perhaps months afterwards, or a
year or two later I have looked back at Esoteric Buddhism or The Secret
Doctrine, and have found that the idea which I thought to be new was distinctly
implied in that book—perhaps not stated in so many words, but certainly implied.
Certainly many ideas which we have recently thought to be new ought to have been
deduced by us. I can see how those truths follow from the other ideas, and I
wonder now how I could have been so stupid as not to have made the deduction.
The same experience occurs in quite a striking way at each Initiation; the key
of knowledge which is then communicated is an absolutely obvious thing. We say
to ourselves: "Well, what have I been doing not to see that myself? " But we
never do; nobody does until it is told to him. We need no proof for the
statement; it speaks for itself, it is absolutely self-evident. There the fact
was, staring us in the face all our life long, and we never saw it. If one ever
had any pride in one's intellectual development, it is very soon broken up on
this line of experience.
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Only the Masters are capable of giving full help to anyone. Their knowledge is
universal, and it extends into all higher worlds as well. They appear not to
need all the knowledge stored within their brains as we do, but are able to turn
a certain faculty on to anything that is wanted and by the use of that faculty,
then and there, to know all about it. It might be that there was some
information which the Master wanted; he would not need to read it up as we
should, but he would turn His all-seeing eye on that subject and thereby absorb
the knowledge somehow. I think that is what must be meant by getting rid of
ignorance. It is obvious that one could never obtain all knowledge along the
lines on which we gain knowledge. It is distinctly stated that the last fetter
which the Arhat must cast off is avidya—ignorance. When we asked: " What does
that mean? About what must he know? " we were told: " About everything in the
solar system." One shrinks back appalled, because one has some little experience
of the lower planes of this world, and one has also established consciousness at
various higher levels. I can definitely say that though this is the Path along
which universal knowledge is gained, yet as one advances one becomes more and
more oppressed with the sense of universal ignorance; every time one rises to
higher levels, though one does understand the things one has been trying to
understand, one at the same time sees rising up and stretching away in front of
one wider and wider fields of which one is ignorant. The more a student gains
the more he realizes how very much more there is to learn, and how little,
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beside that, is all he thinks he has gained. Even that is only half the
difficulty, for every additional elevation gives a new point of vision with
regard to all the things one already knew, and so one has to learn them all over
again from that new point of view.
The attempt is not a hopeful one along any line which we have as yet learnt to
follow. If we are to have the universal divine knowledge there must be some
altogether different way of grasping it, which will open before us as we go
further on. I take the whole matter philosophically now, because there is
nothing else to be done. I learn all I can along our present lines, and as I
gain new methods I use them, but I see I shall never really attain the higher
goal along these lines. There must be some entirely new method of acquiring
knowledge, and I think we get a little guidance as to what that may be from the
buddhic consciousness of which I have already spoken; in that one no longer has
to collect facts from outside, but one plunges into the consciousness of all
these things, whether they be minerals or plants or devas, and understands them
from inside. Then one finds that it is all a part of one's own consciousness
somehow. Along that line it may possibly be worked out.
When you have learned the first twenty-one rules and have entered the Hall of
Learning with your powers developed and sense unchained, then you will find
there is a fount within you from which speech will arise.
The hall of learning refers in the beginning to the astral world; at a later
stage the Master probably means
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something very much higher than that by the same expression. In the first place,
when only astral experiences are available to the aspirant, there is a great
deal that he can learn in the astral world. It is altogether a new thing for
him; new faculties unfold and he finds vistas opening before him in different
directions, enabling him to approach everything from that new point of view. To
begin with there is the extra dimension. Besides that, there is the power of
seeing through every material thing. Further, the observer translates everything
through his emotional vehicle, and that is very different from trying to sense
things through a physical body. So there is much to be learnt and to be done in
that higher world, because it is there that people most of all need help; it is
there that we have all the newly dead in their many different conditions and
stages of development, so it is chiefly there that work for those in trouble can
be done out of the physical body.
There comes a later stage when the man becomes free in the mental plane in the
same way as most of us are free in the astral when we are away from the physical
body. Pupils of the Masters are taught especially to develop the mental body
until they are able to use it as easily as the astral body; then they are taught
how to make the mayavi-rupa, that is to say, a temporary astral body, not the
astral body naturally attached to the man, but a temporary materialization on
the astral plane which only those can make who have learnt to travel about in
their mental vehicles.
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The next stage is to learn to use the causal body freely. Then, whatever lower
vehicles the man may be using he retains this new consciousness to some extent.
He cannot use the full faculty of the causal body through the astral or the
mental, because they form a veil, a limitation; but still he will have the
memory of his causal experience with him. If he has also broken through that
which acts as a veil between the astral and physical bodies, he will physically
remember everything that he does in the higher worlds, so that his existence
will be continuous. In the causal body itself his consciousness will be
unbroken, not only through sleeping and waking, but through life and death,
because that is a permanent consciousness. When a man enters into the next
higher hall of learning, the buddhic plane, he will have direct acquaintance
with all that comes before him. He will be able to enter within others, and in
another way to draw them inside himself, and so will understand them fully.
When a man has his powers developed and his senses unchained at these high
levels he certainly will have a very great deal that he can say. At the same
time he will always find himself hampered by a serious difficulty in expression.
He sees and knows; and because of that he can say a great deal more than the man
who does not know for himself, and can put it very convincingly; and yet with
all his effort, and even with all his success as far as certain people are
concerned, he will never be free from the consciousness that he is not
expressing half of what he has seen. No words will impart to another what has
been experienced in a realm beyond words.
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People who are full of devotion now and then, rise into a condition of ecstasy
in which they glimpse the higher planes. When one has once touched that
condition he will immediately recognize it in the descriptions attempted by some
of the Christian saints, and also by Hindu yogis. St. Teresa speaks of such
experiences; St. John of the Cross, St. Francis of Assisi and others also
mention them once or twice. These Christians reached a condition which they
described in Christian terms, whereas a Theosophist would describe them in more
Theosophical terms. He would speak of it in reference to the Masters; they spoke
with reference to the Christ.
It is a great thing to obtain that touch of .the reality behind phenomena, or
rather that nearer approach to the reality beyond the forms, because a fragment
of personal experience counts far more than a very great deal of instruction by
hearsay; when we have some touch of personal experience we find that there is a
fount of speech which arises within us. We feel we have something different to
say, something which we must say, which is laid upon us as a charge that we
shall give to the world —that we shall bear witness of these splendid realities.
The Master says that when you come to know these things for yourself you will
find this fount within you from which speech will arise. You will feel that you
must and ought to tell the great things which the Lord hath done for you to put
it in the Christian form.
One does not wish indiscriminately to thrust one's experiences upon people, but
one has the feeling that
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those who have really definite first-hand knowledge of any sort ought always to
be willing to bear testimony to it. Those who have personally seen and met and
remembered some of the great Masters, should, I think, always be willing to bear
witness to that fact, because the outer world is constantly in the attitude of
saying, when they hear of such happenings: " Well, is there anyone who has seen
these great Beings? " I do not wish to degrade the idea of a Master by bringing
it before those who cannot understand it, but if any such people, even at a
public meeting, ask: " Have you seen any of these great Masters?" I say in
reply: "Yes I have, but it is not a matter which I care to discuss in a public
meeting." It is quite likely that in such a gathering there might be some who
would mock at the idea; even though they said nothing, they might be in a
condition of disbelief. While all that makes not the slightest difference to the
Masters, it is only fair that we should remember that it does make a great
difference to the blasphemer. The man who mocks at great people such as these
makes for himself an especially evil form of karma; that I have seen over and
over again. So if sometimes it seems that we hold back these things, our real
reason for doing so is not only the natural repugnance that we feel towards
subjecting names which to us are sacred to the ridicule of the ignorant and the
foolish, but it is also out of consideration for the ignorant and foolish
themselves, that they may not heap up for themselves very unpleasant experiences
in the future. I cannot thoroughly explain that, but I do know that it
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is so. I have seen it again and again, far too often for it to be a mere
coincidence, or the result of any kind of accident.
No man has the right to ridicule any religious teacher; he may not believe in
him or feel it his duty to follow him, but at least no man of fine feeling would
ever ridicule the religious belief of another. The man who does so is doing what
is wrong on general principles, irrespective of the nature of the teachings
given.
It is well, perhaps, that a general caution should be sounded in all directions
that one should not adopt a scornful attitude with regard to anything, because
there may always be some fragment of truth even in what seems to us incredible
and incomprehensible. Every effect—even a superstition—has a cause, and though
in the form in which it now presents itself to us it may be ridiculous, we shall
find, if we follow it back, that there was something of truth in it at the
beginning, and .there is still something behind it.
After the thirteenth rule I can add no more words
to what is already written.
The Master Hilarion means that the notes made the Venetian Chohan comprise all
that he feels it is safe to say. He then concludes his notes with the words:
My peace I give unto you. A These notes are written only for those to whom I
give My peace; those who can read what I have
written with the inner as well as the outer sense.
" My Peace I give unto you," we saw in Part I, can only be said by the Master to
the disciples who are as
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himself, or to others who have attained the buddhic level and are one with him
by virtue of attaining that consciousness.
Suppose people exchange among themselves a salutation of that sort: " Peace be
with you," and the reply: " And on you be peace." What do they give to one
another ? We may imagine them to stand at the same level, and from each of them
goes a strong wish or thought of peace to the other. That would be a real gift,
a quite definite material thing. But that happens also whenever one sends out a
thought of affection towards somebody one loves. One quite definitely transfers
a little part of one's astral body to him as the vehicle of the thought-form;
one may also transfer higher matter as far as the buddhic plane if one has
developed up to that level.
It is well to realize that one is actually giving something material in these
cases. Often people do not think that the wish is anything. When they send out a
good wish, it is just as material a gift as a book or jewel would be, only it is
composed of mental and astral matter. It is a gift the poorest can give as well
as the richest.
Suppose one receives the blessing of a priest: "The peace of God which passeth
all understanding be upon you." That again is quite a definite phenomenon. The
good wish of the priest which one may receive as well, would be only an
infinitesimal fragment of what comes from him. When a priest gives a solemn
blessing in the name of God he is exercising his function as a priest; he is
drawing spiritual power from that reservoir which the Christ set apart precisely
for that purpose. It is from
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the very same reservoir which is drawn upon when the Eucharist is celebrated,
only this is drawn from a different layer, and gives a different kind of force.
There have been Great Ones who have chosen to found a special section of the
reservoir, filled in the first place by themselves, and afterwards kept full by
their particular followers. This the Christ Himself did in his descent in
Palestine. Therefore peace and blessing of a very much higher order than one man
can give to another flows over the congregation through the will of the priest.
It is not his own, but comes from that higher source.
If one receives the blessing of the bishop one has a higher stage of the same
thing, a fuller outpouring. The bishop, when he gives his blessing as such,
makes three crosses instead of only the one which the priest makes. He does that
to express the threefold force which he sends out. I do not mean to say that
being a bishop he would not give that force if he made only one cross, but the
reason for his making the three signs is that he has at his disposal a threefold
variety of the same force at a higher level than that given by the priest. If
one of our great Masters said to a person, " Peace be with you," He would throw
upon him a still wider and higher peace.
The blessing of the Christ himself is the highest that this earth can give. The
Lord of the World truly stands yet above, but it does not come in his way so
much to give blessing as to give strength. I think we may say the blessing of
the Bodhisattva is the highest of that
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religious type which this world can give us. How much each one is able to
receive of that peace and blessing I depends not in the least upon the
Bodhisattva, but entirely upon the individual. His power pours forth like
the sunshine; earth-born clouds may get in the way of the sunlight, may obscure
the action of that divine force, but it is there nevertheless—a
glorious and wonderful power.
Most people are in one way much too materialistic and in another not nearly
materialistic enough, in their feeling about these higher facts. We have so much
materialism clinging about us that unless we can definitely see or at least feel
a thing ourselves we can hardly credit its existence. Yet on the other hand we
are not material enough in our ideas. People should understand that when we
speak of the blessing outpoured by the Great Ones, even that of the Christ
Himself, we mean something as definite as electricity or a jet of water. It is
through matter that spiritual force manifests itself to us, so when we receive a
blessing it is an actual, definite power, which can bring us nearer to the
Deity.
CHAPTER 6 RULES 14 TO 21
C.W.L.—Rule 14 is once more a comment by the Chohan, not so much upon what has
gone before as in preparation for another set of three aphorisms, which are
numbered 15, 16 and 17.
14. Having obtained the use of the inner senses, having conquered the desires of
the outer senses, having conquered the desires of the individual soul, and
having obtained knowledge, prepare now, O disciple, to enter upon the way in
reality. The path is found: make yourself ready to tread it.
It seems strange when we are past the middle of the second part of this book to
be told that only now are we entering upon the way in reality. It is, of course,
a higher stage of the way that is referred to. Just as we speak of the
probationary path first, and then the Path proper after the first Initiation has
been passed, so here the Chohan speaks of entering upon the way in reality. The
same idea is applicable at different levels. The Arhat enters on a new way, that
of the nirvanic plane, a greater reality than that of the buddhic plane, and the
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Asekha or full Adept enters a yet higher path, a still fuller reality.
There seems no end to this Path. We cannot speak with certainty as to anything
final. We can say that the ladder reaches before us till it is lost in glory far
beyond our understanding, and we know quite certainly that there is evolution
before us lasting for millions of years yet. What is the final end, who shall
say ? But that we shall reach the consciousness of our solar Logos, we know. For
us that might well seem an end, yet I have no doubt that beyond that stretch
further glories; but as to the finality we can say nothing. Even if such things
could be laid before us in our present stage of development it is quite certain
we should not understand them.
When the Chohan speaks of having conquered the desires of the individual soul he
means the desires which the ego himself may have. They are not such as we term
desires down here. At a high stage of the Path two fetters must be cast off
which are called ruparaga and arupa-raga and they are interpreted " desire for
life in a form " and " desire for formless life ". When one reaches the
consciousness of the ego one finds that he has before him two varieties of
life—that in his causal body, which is life in a form, and the buddhic life,
which is life without a form in any ordinary sense of that word.
The ego has thus experiences of a consciousness in a form and a consciousness
without form, and they are both wonderful beyond all words, because the ego's
life in form is life among, his peers, among other egos, and when he is
conscious at that level, he is enjoying the
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companionship of all the brightest intellects that the world has ever produced,
including the great Angel kingdom as well as the human kingdom. The life of the
ego on his own plane is glorious beyond any conception possible to the
personality. If one could imagine an existence in the company of the great men
of the world— artists, poets, scientists, and even our Masters themselves —and
add to all that an understanding of them unattainable down here—then only would
one begin to have some idea of the life of the ego.
When one advances that far in development, one can see that it is a life of
intense attraction, and for a man having that possibility before him to put it
all aside and say: " I have no longer the slightest desire for this," would be a
stupendous sacrifice.
It would be an even greater renunciation if beyond and above that he had the
formless life at his disposal—the life on the buddhic plane—which has not only
that companionship, but actually becomes one with all that, and with a great
deal more. Then he would say: " I have no desire even for that life; I am
absolutely free from desire. If the Logos sends me, through our Masters, into
one of these lines:—life in form or life beyond form —most happily, most
gratefully will I accept the work and try to do my best, but I have no desire
for one or for the other, and am equally willing to be sent down into physical
plane work." I suppose few people have the least idea what an awful plunge the
physical plane life is after such experience. To come down to this lower level
even under the most desirable conditions, the
436
most beautiful surroundings, is to fail back again into darkness out of a
marvellous light; it is to be confined, to be bound and helpless, because all
the faculties of the higher worlds are so fine that they cannot be used down
here.
It was said in one of the earlier letters from the Masters, of those who had
touched the nirvanic level; that when they came out of it they were in a
condition of profound depression for many weeks. I can imagine that to be true
of some of our Indian brothers who in high ecstasy—in samadhi—had experienced
that, and on coming down again to the physical life had found it a condition
profoundly depressing. Those who are pupils of the Masters and have had
experience of the higher levels have been taught not to allow themselves to be
depressed by descent into any limitation or surroundings.
He who has sacrificed himself for service must be willing to surrender
everything completely, when it is necessary. He must be ready to be sent down
into any-kind of surroundings, to give up altogether for the time that life in
the higher forms and that formless life which is higher still. Only so can he
cast off entirely those two fetters. It is the Arhat who has to do this. One may
gain the Fourth Initiation and yet have touches of desire for those higher
realms, so we need not despair unnecessarily. But it does mean a high
development, a strong sense of the necessity for service, to be entirely
unattached to such bliss. The temptation is very far beyond anything one could
possibly imagine.
437
15. Inquire of the earth, the air, and the water, of the secrets they hold for
you. The development of your inner senses will enable you to do this.
In this rule we have the original aphorism in the first sentence and the
Chohan's comment in the second. I have already spoken with regard to what is
indicated here—that we have to come into closer communion with nature, if we
want really to understand her. All religions so far as we know, even including
many of the rites of tribes which can hardly be thought of as religions at all,
have a theory of cosmogony, of the way in which the world or the solar system
came into being. There is a reason for that. It has been strongly impressed by
the World-Teacher upon the sub-races of people to whom he came at different
times that they should try to understand the universe of which they form a part.
The more we understand of the whole plan of evolution the more we can live in
harmony with it, and become able to work with it even in minute detail. I am
afraid it is impossible for people who have not had the experience fully to
grasp all that is meant here by coming more closely into touch with nature. The
writer is not talking vaguely, but with very perfect and intimate knowledge,
when he says: " Inquire of the earth, the air, and the water, of the secrets
they hold for you." Those secrets would help men to understand this great and
wonderful evolution. Even a little knowledge of them would at least save people
from the danger of being self-centred. Many people very distinctly have been
self-centred, because
438
they have the absurd idea that all these kingdoms were created especially for
mankind. If there are vegetables, well, it is stated in the Bible that God gave
them to man for food; if there are animals, they assume (although I do not think
it is distinctly stated) that God intended them to be man's servants, that they
exist only to serve him, and, apparently, many of them, only to be eaten by him.
That is not what is stated in the Bible; it is the herbs and fruits of the trees
which are there said to have been given to man for his meat. There has been very
strongly this idea that everything existed for the sake of man—that the air was
made that he might breathe it, that the water existed that he might use it to
drink or to wash with, and that everything pivoted round man as a centre. But
all that is not so by any means.
We are the highest of the animal evolution. We hold ourselves to be a kingdom
apart from the animal, but the fact remains that we are the highest of these
creatures which have dense physical bodies. There are vast numbers of entities
higher than ourselves who have mental and astral vehicles, and others which use
physical bodies to the extent of the etheric matter, though only during
temporary materialization.
If we were to choose one evolution apart from the rest and say that the solar
system exists for that special one or even to say that our earth exists for that
one alone, then we should have to take the great deva evolution rather than the
human, because it certainly reaches much higher and is altogether more splendid
than our own. There are a great many other lines which have finished
439
their physical experience on other chains of worlds and are now utilizing the
higher planes of this world. Those evolutions which are at the stage of the
buddhic plane, for example, do not interfere at all with the three lower worlds
in which we are evolving. Since they are already at that height where their
lowest level is the mental plane, which to us is so high, it may well be that
they are far more important than we.
So far as we have been able to test it, or to see, no space anywhere is being
wasted, or is unoccupied. I remember a statement made once at a spiritualist
meeting which I attended, before I knew about Theosophy. The communicating
entity said that to his sight the room was packed densely with what he called
spirits, and furthermore beyond that room there extended on into the sky a dense
mass of higher entities—whom he called angels—of various sorts, pouring down and
rising up again. He said, " The whole air, as far as I can see, is densely
packed with these higher beings." He represented them all as being focused upon
the particular circle in which we were sitting, and I have no doubt that a
certain set of entities may have been attending to that, but apart from that,
and always, all space is being utilized for evolutions which have nothing to do
with us or with our set of parallel schemes at all.
The whole of space is absolutely full of life. More than three-fourths of the
earth is covered with water; men cannot live in it, but that vast space is
nevertheless very fully occupied with life. The solid earth is also full of a
kind of life that moves through it as we move through
440
air, without being conscious of obstruction. That is at a level lower than
humanity; it is cleverer in some ways, but on the whole lower, and so utterly
different from ours that what is their normal evolution would be evil for us.
Much of this life could not be explained in ordinary language at all, but one
can sense it by getting away from one's body and going in among it and observing
it. I should not advise people to do this, however, until they have the higher
faculties and the other qualities which have been mentioned, because they might
get themselves into serious danger, especially among these lower forces which
are tremendously strong, but are not guided by any considerations which ;we
understand-:—what we would call moral considerations do not exist at all among
some of those evolutions. It is all quite different from anything of which we
have any knowledge, but all this we must know before we ourselves can reach the
level of the Divine and become one with that, because all of this is the life of
the Logos just as much as is the life within ourselves, and to understand Him we
must understand it all.
16. Inquire of the Holy Ones of the earth of the secrets they hold for you.
The comment upon this is:
The conquering of the desires of the outer senses will give you the right to do
this.
The Holy Ones of the earth are certainly, among others, our Masters. I think
that here he means also
441
the great Angels. We may come into touch with them and may learn much from them,
but also we may learn—we have learnt—much from our own Masters, for they,
through their disciples, have taught us much knowledge which otherwise we should
have been a long time in reaching for ourselves. They told us in the beginning
that it was our business to verify for ourselves the things they taught us. That
is what we have been doing, and it is in that way that we have in many of the
later Theosophical books much more detail than was given in the earlier books,
which depended very largely upon what had been told us.
To inquire from a Master does not always mean to go and ask a question. There
are other ways besides that. There are cases in which we have done precisely
that thing. We have formulated definite questions, and when the opportunity
occurred have put those questions, one might say by word of mouth, except that
on the higher planes there is no word of mouth in the ordinary sense; we have
sometimes put those questions to a Master in a moment of his leisure and have
received definite answers to them. There are many things in every-day work about
which we should like to have the benefit of his wider insight, yet we could not
think for a moment of troubling him to give an answer. As has been explained
before, it is possible for a pupil to lay his thought beside that of the Master
and so, without appealing to the consciousness of the Master to see what he
thinks on any given subject. That makes no call upon
442
him whatever. It is simply that by drawing back up the line of communication we
can put our thought beside His. It means that one has oneself thought out the
question first and come to some conclusion that seems the best; then one lays
that conclusion beside the Master's thought on the subject, to see whether there
is any difference. If there is, one promptly alters one's own thought, knowing
that he is much wiser and that his thought is accurate.
Thus there are ways of consulting the Master, without troubling him at all.
Still, there are other cases where that is not a suitable method of
communication, where we have absolutely to wait for an opportunity to ask a
question and get an answer; but certainly in order that one may inquire of them
he must first of all bring himself to the point where he will cause no
disturbance in coming near to them.
It is the duty of some of us to go every night when we fall asleep to the houses
of our respective Masters for orders, to see whether there are any special
instructions for us. Sometimes there are. But sometimes we find the Master
obviously busy, deeply engaged; then we do not thrust ourselves upon his notice,
but go quietly away and go on with our ordinary regular work. Any pupil, of
course, would do that. He would study first the Master's convenience, and when
he considered that he had something important to report he would not think of
himself, but of the Master. But sometimes newer recruits are very full of the
importance of something that they have been doing, or that they want to
443
ask, and they wait about and thrust themselves on the attention of the Master,
so that he turns aside for a moment from what he is doing.
The older pupil is always most careful as to what sort of thought and feeling he
sends along the lines of communication between himself and the Master, so that
there shall be no slightest jar. This needs a certain amount of care on the part
of the pupil, because there are very often jars which the pupils cannot help. In
a great city, for instance, there must often be surroundings which are very
unpleasant; in a crowd during the busy time of the day, in the midst of a
perfect pandemonium of noise, all sorts of clashing and crashing vibrations
impinge upon a person to some extent. One may guard oneself to some degree, and
must indeed take good care that no such vibrations, if they do affect one,
should be transmitted to the Master. It is not that the Master could not deal
with it all by a single thought, but one does not want to cause him a single
thought; his time is so precious, the outpouring of his force so valuable, that
the pupil does not want the smallest amount of it to be wasted. He lives for the
work, as the Master does, and it is part of his duty to see that the very great
beneficence which his Guru has extended towards him in making him an outlying
part of himself, does not cause the least trouble. It is easy to prevent these
disturbances from reaching him, when one has reached the stage of knowing how to
do it. In the meantime, it is the conquering of the desires of the outer senses
that gives one the right to come into
444
such touch with the Masters that he can inquire from them.
17. Inquire of the Inmost, the One, of its final secret which it holds for you
through the ages.
The Inmost, the One, for the personality, is no doubt the ego, but for the ego
it is the Monad. What it is for the Monad I do not know certainly, because I
cannot yet see the Monad. One can see the triple atma, which is the threefold
manifestation of a Monad, and from that a great deal may be deduced; but face to
face I have not seen it. Our Masters have, but what they see and what they know
they cannot fully tell us; that is quite clear. The Monad is said to be a spark
of the Divine Fire, but also we believe that in the primal manifestation of the
system the Logos poured Himself out through His seven Ministers—" the seven
spirits before the throne of God." I do not know, but I imagine, that for the
Monad, who must have come out through one of those glowing colours on his way
from the divine Fire, that great Minister or Planetary Spirit through whom he
came forth might well be the Inmost—and so we reason on to yet higher beings.
These things are not comprehensible to us, and not to be stated in words. In
some way which means very little to us and yet in meditation may mean a great
deal, God puts part of Himself down into matter, and divides that part so that
it becomes spirit and matter—two manifestations of the same thing, and yet
having done that He remains behind it all, unlimited, omnipresent, unaffected.
The Inmost, the One, has
445
held secrets for us through the ages because always from the very beginning the
inner self, the Monad, has known certain things. We do not know what things the
Monad knows from the beginning. The Monad is a spark of the divine Fire, and the
Logos, who is the divine Fire, knows all.
The comment on the seventeenth rule says:
The great and difficult victory, the conquering of the desires of the individual
soul, is a work of ages; therefore expect not to obtain its reward until ages of
experience have been accumulated. When the time of learning this seventeenth
rule is reached, man is on the threshold of becoming more than man.
That sounds rather excessive, but we must presume that he who writes knows
whereof he writes. We must remember that all this has to be taken at two levels.
When it is a question of the desires of the personality and of their being laid
aside in favour of the aspirations of the soul it surely is not such a difficult
matter. Putting aside the desires of the individual soul for those of the Monad
behind is a very much higher thing, and when it is said that it may take ages
one is prepared to admit that it might well be true; and yet when you have once
accomplished this at one stage, to do it over again at another and higher stage
ought not to present any insuperable difficulty, because what has to be done is
the same thing, though from an entirely different point of view. It will, no
doubt, take ages for those who slowly tread the broad main road of human
progress, but
446
generally only a few lives, as we have seen, for those who now enter the Path,
and breast the mountain-side.
When one gets a glimpse behind the veil into the plans of the Hierarchy one
finds that they habitually talk in large figures. They lay their plans with a
wonderful, almost deadly, certainty, and it would seem that nothing whatever can
interfere with them. They lay out their future in blocks of ten thousand years
or so, and they say: " In this ten thousand years we will get such-and-such work
done." And they do it. Yet that work does not at all necessarily spread itself
evenly over that block. It seems to me, from what I have observed, that there
might be a plan laid out in which a certain amount was to be done in the first
two hundred years, so much in the next, and so on, so that by the end of a
thousand years a certain definite goal was to be achieved. It would seem that in
those smaller divisions of two hundred years the prescribed proportion of work
is not always achieved; yet what they have calculated to get done in the course
of the larger block of one thousand years is always done. When the work moves
slowly at first it hurries in the end.
The people or the nations to whom the opportunity to do the work is first
offered do not invariably take it, but there is always an understudy being
prepared. If a man or a nation fails, the next line is brought up and the work
is done, though it may be delayed a little. The British Empire had a trial of
that nature in connection with the great war. As a whole it rose to the
447
emergency and proved itself worthy. Had it not done so, another great nation was
being prepared to take its place, but it would have done the work a century or
two later, because it is a long way behind. Now, because we have so far risen to
our opportunity (and I hope we shall continue to do so till the end), that other
nation will have a longer time to develop, and therefore will progress more
soundly and more easily, and will not have such a strain put upon it in its
development as it would have had if we had failed.
The Theosophical Society, and also each member in it, is in a somewhat similar
position. Any member who proves himself good in the general work, or shows signs
of being good in the near future, will be tried with some of the efforts which
are being made in connection with the founding of the sixth subrace of our Fifth
root-race. In all this there is, of course, no conscription or compulsion; all
will evolve to perfection sooner or later, and we can take just as long as we
like. The wisest policy is to do the very best we can in a steady way, not
putting ourselves under a strain which we cannot permanently endure.
It is a considerable advantage in doing any of this work to know to which of the
rays one belongs. Most of us in the Theosophical Society are on one of the five
rays, numbered three to seven, but many are in process of transferring
themselves to the first and second rays, in order to work under the two great
Masters who founded the Society, and who are to be the Manu and Bodhisattva of
the Sixth root-race, which will be established in some seven hundred years'
time. Many of our
448
people will be born into that race, but there are others who will prefer to work
on in the fifth race, and help in bringing it to the perfection that is still
before it. Others will prefer to go with the great geniuses who will certainly
come into the fifth root-race at its highest point, rather than to follow the
two Masters into the pioneer work of the new race.
In Australia and America, and some other places, there is now a special
opportunity for those who wish to help in the development of the sixth sub-race,
because it is rapidly corning into existence there, while there are only
isolated members of it in the older countries. Many of those who were killed in
the great war have already been reborn, though there is nothing so far to
indicate that they are abandoning their former countries in order to come to the
newer lands. Those of the new race type who remain in the old countries will
probably have more difficulties to face than the others, because of the pressure
of old ideas and conservative customs.
In all these undertakings, no one is ever indispensable. As to our own
Theosophical movement, we may be very sure that the Great Ones behind will take
care of it as a whole. Only lately, since I have had to take up again a good
deal of church work, I have found how very closely that organization is being
directed, how very intimate may be the relation between those who guide the
Church down here and the real Head of the Church behind, if those who are
working down here make themselves channels such as they should be. That in many
cases they have not done so, but have worked for
449
their own selfish power and interest is lamentably true, and "those who have
done that have thereby shut off from themselves a vast tract of spiritual power,
usefulness and efficiency which they might have had. But it is only quite lately
that I have found out how tremendous are the possibilities and how ignorant most
people are of them, and I am quite sure from what I have already seen that the
same thing must be true in many other quite unsuspected directions.
I shall never again be surprised to find traces of the work of the Great White
Lodge in anything that is good anywhere, whether it be small or great, for they
miss no opportunities, not even the smallest; wherever there is anything of good
in any movement, just to the extent of that good it is being utilized. There may
be much in the movement that is not good; that is regrettable, and that has to
be put aside, but it does not appear to interfere with their employment of every
ounce of good that does exist in it. There may be bigotry, persecution, pride,
self-seeking and many other qualities that are undesirable in some movement or
person. Thirty years ago I might have thought that those qualities would
probably prevent their possessor from being utilized at all. They do stand
seriously in his way, and prevent him from making any real progress, but if
there is any good quality in that person, to the extent of that good quality he
is being used.
This method of the Brotherhood is most encouraging. We are all very conscious of
being so far from perfect ourselves that we might perhaps think: " How can a
450
Master make use of anything in me, when I so often make mistakes? " But it is
our duty to do our best and then whatever there is of good in us he will use. At
the same time this lays upon us a still greater duty: to get rid of that which
makes it difficult for him to use us. He will use us as much as he can; let us
make it easy for him by making ourselves perfect channels.
There are many lines of development for human beings, and it takes many lives to
develop the characteristics of any line perfectly. I have spent most of this
life in developing the psychic side of my nature, in learning how to see
clairvoyantly, and writing about it. I met in our Society, and have worked with,
Sir William Crookes; that man spent his life in the study of chemistry, and he
knew it perfectly. Over and over again I have felt: " If only I had your
knowledge, or if you had my clairvoyance, what work we could do! " It seems a
pity that one cannot have in one life both these forms of. development. It takes
a lifetime to attend to each. He-spent his life studying chemistry; and he will
come back into his next incarnation not with the detailed knowledge but with the
faculty that will pick all that up almost automatically. I have spent this life
in developing the psychic side. I do not know how much I shall be able to
transmit into my next body, but I will carry over as much of it as I can. Then I
will start along one of these other lines, if the work will permit me to do so;
but in the meantime those who are willing to do our special work are set to do
it, and we have not much time for other things.
451
We must attain all things one by one; they will come, because we do not lose one
when we drop it and take up another. So if in this life we happen to have the
Theosophical development, then in the next life the opening up of the intellect
and of high devotion may come much more easily because in this life we have had
this training, and there will be the further great advantage that we shall be
practically certain not to misuse them when we get them.
We must push on rapidly. We may be much nearer than we know to the higher
development. If we have to spend a life or two in acquiring those capacities,
what is that ? There is plenty of time before us, so let us set our aim high,
and try to develop all we can in the way of spirituality, intellect and inner
knowledge. We are digging through a wall of ignorance and prejudice that we have
built round ourselves in the course of many lives; we are like a man trying to
escape from a prison. He goes on digging; he does not know at what moment the
pick will go through the wall; when the reward is due it will come suddenly. We
have many things yet to attain, but perhaps the development will come quickly;
for that we must follow in their footsteps and learn what they would have us
learn.
Rule 18 is once more a comment by the Chohan. It warns the aspirant never to
lose his caution and watchfulness, but always to be afraid of himself, as a
Roman philosopher put it, even though he has ceased to be afraid of anything
else.
452
18. The knowledge which is now yours is only yours because your soul has
become one with all pure souls and with the inmost. It is a trust vested in
you by the Most High. Betray it, misuse your knowledge or neglect it, and it
is possible even now for you to fall from the high estate you have attained. •
Great ones fall back, even from the threshold, unable to sustain the
weight of their responsibility, unable to pass on. Therefore look forward
always with awe and trembling to this moment, and be prepared for the battle.
That great ones fall back even from the threshold seems impossible; the more
nearly you approach their level the more incredible it appears, because anything
like selfishness would seem quite impossible to the man at that stage, however,
it must be so, because it is said by one who knows that of which he speaks. The
thought of self is very subtle and turns up in unexpected guise at levels where
there should be no such thing. Therefore we shall do well to heed the warning,
and not too soon think that we are safe from the attacks of selfishness. That is
the only fetter that can hold us back, but it has many forms, and is very subtle
indeed.
The last three aphorisms once more form a series; in number 19 there is a
preparatory comment by the Chohan:
19. It is written that for him who is on the threshold of divinity no law can
be framed, no guide can exist.
453
The disciple at this stage is utterly beyond the need of outside teaching. He
has read the book of nature on all the five planes of human evolution. He is at
the point of conquest of the last fetter-—avidya. Henceforth the law of his life
comes utterly from within himself. Therefore no comment is possible. Says the
Chohan:
Yet to enlighten the disciple, the final struggle may be thus expressed:
Then come the three rules:
Hold fast to that which has neither substance nor existence.
20. Listen only to the voice which is soundless.
21. Look only on that which is invisible alike to the inner and the outer
sense.
PEACE BE WITH YOU
--------------------------
INDEX
INDEX
PAGE
ABOVE, as, so below 344
Action, what is right? 73
Adept, an all-round man 202-3
and the Holy Ghost 318
knows Monad 308,317
one with Logos 195-7
seven paths before 191, 194
sympathizes with all 395
willing to go anywhere 193-4
Adepts, lew from humanity 244
knowledge of 277
Aether of space 345
Age of body and of soul 133
work in old 176
Ahamkara 240
Alone, standing 130
Ambition, killing out 48-67
of ordinary man 111
Anger, reactions of 396-8
Animal, man cannot
become 382-3
Animals and the Bible 438
closing of door to 382
cruelty to 384
Apostles and tongues of fire 318
Arhat and Nirvanic plane 228, 433
causal body of 214
fetters of 436
illumination of 225, 228
last fetter of 423
suffering of 240
PAGE
Art, modern 357-9
Artist, motive of 49, 62
Aruparaga 434
Asceticism, delusions of 95
Ask 265
Astral body, interpenetrates
others 118
colourless 20,45
do not destroy 217
expansion of 45
faculties of, ready 404
relation of, to higher
bodies 45
work 425
Atma at fifth Initiation 247
buddhi, manas213-6, 224, 312
how to realize 229-30
the triple 212.247,
308,312
Atmic consciousness 157
Atrocities in the war 145-6
Aura, expansion of 45
milky white 20, 45
Authority in science 167
AvTchi 131
Avidya 423
BALANCE, disciple learns 246-7
necessary 202
Bali, simile of 40
Balloon, simile of captive 313
458
PAGE
Battle again and again 259
the first great 243, 256-7, 284
Battle-field, simile of 340
Beaconsfield, Lord 59-60
Being, laws of 228
Besant, Dr, and black
magicians 26
as freethinker 394
direct knowledge of 420-1
eloquence of 311
how works 103
is happy 103
manuals of 420-1
on testing intuition 269
tabulated Theosophy 421
"wrote it" 167
Best, whatever is, is 78, 223,
250,285,310
Bhagavad-Gita, The, on
activity 68-73
on death 214
on dharma 194
on grief 246
on objects of sense 343
on tapas 95
on transgression 43
on working for fruit 76
Bible, on human food 438
Birth, conditions of 272
Bishop, blessing of a 431
Blame, do not, people 252
Blavatsky, Mme, against
superstition 394
and C.W. Leadbeater 418
and Lord of the World 324-5
and the church 393
criticized by her pupils 239
courage of 324
did not blame people 252
few inaccuracies of 418-9
gave opportunities 251-2
mind of 421
on black magicians , 28
PAGE Blavatsky, Mme,
on devolution 385
on lost personality 385
on lost souls 380
on the spiritual ego 225
"said it" 167
taught C.W. Leadbeater 329
Blessing is definite 349, 431
Blind, love is 310
Blood, simile of 35-6
Bodhisattva, blessing of the 432
of sixth root-race 448
work of the 163
(see also World-Teacher)
Bodies, non-separateness of 118
Body, age of, and soul 133
and soul 344-5
colourless astral 20
must be mastered 216
take care of 176, 388-9
Boxing match . 400
Bradlaugh, Charles 70-1
Brahma-Sutras, quoted 92
Brahman is bliss 92, 125
British rose to opportunity 446-7
Brotherhood and variety 133
no black 25-6
Browning quoted 368
Buddha, dome on head of the 319
happiness of the 93
highest of mankind 245
on endless veils 159
on hatred 146
on kindness 370
on Nirvana 232-3
Buddhi and revivalists 274-5
and sympathy 22
reflection of 19-20, 46-7,
410-11 Buddhic consciousness, and
brotherhood 139
and Initiation 314
and unity in God 118-9
459
PAGE Buddhic consciousness,
and vehicle 122
attainable 127
described 118-9,121-6,
157,270,307
of Initiate 120-1,269
Buddhism arid Hinduism 297
Business, mind your own 128
CALCULUS, simile of
differential 284
Calm after storm 255
Causal body, ambition and 64
clinging to the 321
consciousness in 126,426
few use 409
is bom and dies 213-6
origin of 213
thought-forms of 231-2
use of 426
vanishing of 120-1,224
Cells, analogy of 343-4
Centre and circumference 122-3
Chakra 318
Channels for Master's
force 54, 325-6
Charlatans 257
Chick in shell, simile of 260
Children and half-done work 359
and worldly careers 57-8
difficult to understand 402
many, near the Path 174-5
sensitiveness of 175
Christ and conscience 267-8
and Pistis Sophia 318
as God and man 317
blessing of the 432
gave His peace 287
in the heart 153
life of 114, 154
on act of thought 257-8
on feeding the hungry, etc. 370
on knocking 265
PAGE
Christ on losing life 156
on pearls and swine 295
on service 196
one with Father 197
reservoir of 431
sacrifice of 353
that lighteth every man 152
"the hope of glory" 152
what is, in man 225, 228
Christ, "Why hast Thou
forsaken Me?" 115
Christian Mystics 225, 228
Saints 296-7,427
Christianity inconsistent 417
maimed 298
original 153,298
Christians, fear to think 417
Church and Christ,
Liberal Catholic 350
training 350
Cicadas, simile of 32
Clement of Alexandria. 297
Clouds, earth-made 432
sun always behind 309
Collins, Mabel 5,6, 9, 262
Comfort, desire of 92
do not refuse 95
emotional 97
intellectual 97-8
Commandments, use of 257
Common sense, use of 117
Complex and simple, the 162, 374
Concentration cannot be dual 41
Conditions, make use of your 177
Confidence from
knowledge 292,419
in oneself 327
Master Hilarion on 260
Conscience, errors of 267
follow your 267
of burglars, etc. 385
Consciousness, buddhic 118-23
expansions of 157
460
PAGE Consciousness, buddhic,
effect of planes on 118-9
in the causal body 126
knowledge through 423
nirvanic 119, 123, 124, 157
true, is atma 229
widening of 157
Contemplation and work 204
Conviction and higher
sight 310,419
Creature and Creator 214
Crime and punishment 367
Criminals must be loved 135,366
Criticism of friends 340-1
of Masters 276-80, 294-5
tendency of mind to 343
unoccult 203
Crookes, Sir William 7
Cross before signature 289
triple sign of • 431
Crowds 136,401,443
Cruelty, karma of 384
Cube and square measures 313
Customs, important and
unimportant 166
DARKNESS, fear of 247
Dead point 67,76, 112
Death and Initiation 327
facing, voluntarily 388
life after 263, 405
sometimes a release 388
understood in India 205-6
Depression, no time for 102
resulting from samadhi 436
Desire, kill out 43-5,151,312
peace 171
possessions 180-1
power 160
the unattainable 158-9
what is beyond you 156
Desires, desirable 151
how to transmute 40-5
PAGE
Desires, living in 362
of life 81,434
of the ego 434-5, 445
old, revivified 236
Devachan and mental
limitations 404
Devachanic Plane, The 420
Devolution 385
Devotion, alone insufficient 201
and knowledge 298
effect of 196, 427
in Christianity 297-8
Master's response to 196
Disciple and the world 6
and sacrifice 37
does not seek credit 160
sorrow of 94
Disciples, grades of 15
pupils seek to make 60
sometimes unrecognized 281
Dissatisfaction, a divine 110
Doctor does not shrink 134
Doctrine, known by living it 311
Dog, simile of barking 144
Doll, simile of broken 148
Dress, freedom in male, ugly 166
Dryness, spiritual 66-77,112
Dzyan, Book of 119
EARTH, life inside 439-440
Earthquake, not evil 388-91
Education, modern,
too rough 173
takes means for end 262
Effort, make, for sake
of others 110, 117
Ego, and Monad, union of 333
and personality, union of
45, 105, 199
awakened by personality
337-40
desires of the 434, 445
high qualities in the 197
461
PAGE
Ego influences the personality 223
is glorious 335
is vague 199, 335
may lose something 381
never evil 199,334
on his own plane 435
puts down fragment
of himself 199
the spiritual 224
Egypt, civilization of 11
occult teaching in 90, 155
symbology in mysteries
of 323-4
Electricity and light 7
simile of 307-8,431
Elemental activity at
revivalist meetings 272-5
Elizabeth, time of Queen 13
Emotions and mind 169
at revivalist meetings 274-5
comfort of the 97
occultist quietens 171-2
rush of the 171
sacrifice of the 37-8
some nature-spirits excite
397-8
the driving force 219
Enemy, no man is your 412
Engine-driver, simile of 194
Enthusiasm and fear 322
Errors always possible 271
Esoteric Buddhism 421, 422
Eternal, alone can aid 16, 114
living in the 84,90-1,
110, 149-50
Etheric double, clinging
to the 321
Evil, be slow to believe 341-2
cause of 362, 367
choosing 362-3
is silence implying sound
368 the dark shadow of good 367
PAGE
Evil, use of 211
why, weighs heavily 379
Evolution, guidance by 86
how will it end? 434
other lines of 439
the law of 172
Exaggeration in
non-separateness 117-8
Examination, simile of an 327
Excuses, clever 63
Experience, learning through
21,208,220
none needs all 138,234
of foul and clean 138-9
test all 235
value of direct 258, 292, 427
Eyes, before the, can see 17
FACTORY, like a cathedral 396
Failure, leads to success 78,79
Fall, Great Ones, back 240, 321
no fatal 326
rarely to bottom 326
Family divisions 98
Favouritism, no 57
Father, all from one 316
Father-Mother spin a web 317
Fatigue and happiness 123
no, on other planes 190
Faults, correcting of others' 33
intensified on the Path 63
love shows up 310
Fear, causes fall 321
Feeling must be calm 173
must not be hurt 102
Fetter, the last 423
Fetters, the sixth and seventh 434
Fittest, survival of the 172
Flower after storm 255
grow as the 149
Flame, sparks hang from 119
you never touch the 159, 197
Fly, energy of a 209-10
462
PAGE
Force, channels of 186, 329
descending, constrained 186
through blessings 349
Forces, vast, around us 397-8
Forgiveness of sins 175
Form, phantasmal, of
horror 364,367
Forms, of higher planes 231
Fortress, simile of 312
Francis, St of Assisi 427
Freedom of man growing 359
Freemasonry and Egypt 14
Freethinkers lose something 350
Friend, no man is your 412
prejudice in favour of 409
Friends, do not hear ill of 341
Fronds, simile of delicate 173
Funnel, simile of 120
Future, splendid 290
GENIUS, power of 250
Geniuses, some follow the 448
Gethsemane 115
Giving not sacrifice 352
Gnostics cast out 153-4
God, all lives part of 399
all powers are of 109
devotion to, and karma 181-3
existence of 307
finding, within you 155,415
in everything 368
is always good 392
knows all as Self 127
loves all 349
malignity and mercy of 348
man in image of 316
merging in 158
"no man hath seen" 307
non-belief in 70
of the solar system 316
stirs up pool 339
the inner 155,415
tool in hand 54
PAGE
God, we are 130-1,253,415
working for 77
Gold, composition of 373
Golden Precepts, Books
of the 3
Good-bye 286
Good for all and each 283
in all 364-5
Gossip, ignore 31 -2, 341, 401
Greece, communal spirit in 13-14
lesson of 297, 395
Greetings transfer matter 430
Grey world, the 321,386
Group-souls 336
Gunas, the 75
HAOAR and Ishmael,
allegory of 320
Hall of learning
262, 304, 328, 424-6
Halls, the three 262
Happiness and troubles 309
cultivation of 94
duty of 93, 99, 104
of Buddha and Jesus 93
of higher planes 126
the secret of 104
Hatred never ceases by
hatred 146
Heaven, taking, by storm 177
Hell, delusions of 206
Help, by speech 310
by thought 430
expected from all 261
from within 23
only Masters give full 423
Helpers, band of invisible 206
Hermit, life of the 74,371-72
Heroism of the
ordinary man 337-8
Hierarchy, plans of the 446
Hilarion, the Master 4-6, 9
gives His peace 286-8, 429
463
PAGE Hilarion, the Master on
ambition 55-63
on confidence 260
on impersonality 408-410
on standing, etc. 306
on the song of life 347
on the way 185
on unity of mankind 132-9
three truths of 289-90
Hinduism and Buddhism
provide for all 297
Holy Ghost, Adept and the 318-9
fire of the 197
sin against 175
Horses, simile of 219, 236
Human Personality 313
Humility 162
I, CAUSAL body and 213-4
is the Monad 220
-making faculty 212
meaning of 23
Ideals may be too high 6-7
Idyll of the White Lotus 289
Ignorance, the last fetter 423
Ignorant need compassion 242
Illumination of Christian
Mystics 225
Immensity of things 423-4
Impersonal study
of men 394,408-10
Indifference, inadequate 71
Indispensable, no one is 448
Individuality, cause of 212-3
desires of the 434, 445
grasp firmly 220
is not self 220
perishes 217
Initiation and buddhic
vehicle 314
and fetters 120
and Light on the Path 303
and sense of unity 269
PAGE Initiation, divulging no
secrets of 260
feelings at 260
first great truth of 260
key of knowledge 284, 422
of Mahachohan 303
opens doors of soul 306
peace after 304
the Fifth 247
the Fourth 115
Initiator, the One 324
Inner Life, The 384
Inquisition and conscience 267
Intellect and Theosophy 266
as an instrument 268
causes domination 128,218
must be developed 218, 265-6
of our sub-race 168
Interference with others 128
Introspection, morbid 362
Intuition, tests of 269
(See also Buddhi) Ishvara 42,71,76,82-4
JESUS, happiness of
life of
Jet of water, simile of John, S., of the Cross Jostling
Joy, partnership of Ju jutsu
93 114
432 427 443
245-6, 254 43-4
KARMA, all outside
happenings are 388
and devotion 183
. criticism of 276-7
heavy, of the world 244
Initiate cannot doubt 315
in concentric spheres 181
limits Master's help 414
no interference with 94
of criticism 294
of criticizing Masters 295, 428
464
Karma, of cruelty of repression severe the essay on
PAGE 384 175
391-2 11
why Master makes no 181-2
yoga 371
Kill out, meaning of 40s
Knock, to those who 265
Knowledge, and confidence 293
and devotion 297
and speech 416
flashes of 268
imperfection of 294, 423
must be applied 454
of Adepts 277
of self 312
of the Logos 309
vast increases of 423-4
world crying for 257
Koilon 345
Krishna, Shri, on kindness 370
LAMP, simile of 275-6
Law is everywhere 230
of evolution for man 172
of harmony, obey 347
recognition of 245, 253
results follow by 277
Laws of being 227
of supernature 227
study the 227
Leadbeater, C.W., always
avoided dogmas 417
and Madame Blavatsky
329,418
and Master 329
as priest 417
at spiritualist meeting 439
cannot fully express himself
16
direct knowledge of 418
method of materialization of46
policy of 363
PAGE
Leadbeater, C.W., slum
work of 363-4
taught by Swami Subba Row 329
Leaders necessary 319
Learning, the hall of
262, 304, 328, 424
Letter and lecture 164
Liberty of man growing 359
Life, all, divine 88
desire of 81
formed and formless 434-5
is happiness 245
losing your 156-8
respect all 82-3, 88-9
song of 347, 353-4,
361-2,369,373-4,378
space, full of 439-40
Light, atma becomes infinite 247
contrasts with darkness 242-4
of soul's star 242-3
"the hidden" 90, 155
Light of Asia, The, on
mounting and falling 326
Light on the Path,
an advanced treatise 15-6
and First Initiation 303
arrangement of 5,9-12
date of 5, 8
for different
people 15,17-18,303
origin of 3-6, 9
scope of 303
Living too close together 170
Logos, Adepts one with 195-6
grasps entire system 163, 431
knows truth 293
lives in the eternal 110
merging in the 158
obeying will of the 193
outlook of the . 184
sacrifice of the 352
Third Aspect of 196
465
PAGE
Logos, unity with the 314
Lord of the World 324, 432
Lord, "spare us, good" 348
Lords of the dark face 384
of the Flame 382
Lotus, simile of the 173
the thousand-petalled 318
Love coated with selfishness 53
do not desire 52
is blind 310
Lucifer 6,9
Lunar form, destroy the 217
MACAULAY, quoted 13
Machine, simile of
hydraulic 276-7
Magicians, black 18
classification of 25-8
Mahachohan 303
Man among other beings 438
not the centre of all 438-9
Manas, dual in incarnation 213
Manodvaravajjana 306
Manu of the sixth root-race 447
no fire without smoke 283
work of the 163
Manuals 420
Marriage and propinquity 409
Master, all-seeing eye of 61
and C.W. Leadbeater 329
and the song of life 361
asking advice of the
161,441-2
becoming a 247
calling upon, for help 132, 155
degrees of relation to 284
do not expect protection
by 389-90
dwelling upon image of 41
emotions of, are powers 189
gives His peace 286-7, 429-30
going to house of 442
PAGE Master, guides the pupil
130,412-3,425
how, speaks 34-5
interjects remarks 187
is the Path 211
method of training of 280-1
Morya, an ancient King 35
on will and desire 54
presence of, annihilates
wrong thought 60
pupil one with the 187-8,443
pupil, relation to 47
response of, to devotion 196
sends force through
pupils 187,329
sometimes preoccupied 442-3
son of the 287
testing thought beside that of 442
thinks only of service 181
understands us 412
watched pupil for
forty years 282
where not to seek the 264
work of the 194,204,280
Masters always ready
for pupils 275-6, 328
and sixth root-race 448
adopt attitude of 32
and karma 181-2
and opportunities 278
bear witness to 428
becoming pupils on
probation 328
cannot do everything 413
cannot raise us 155,413
criticism of the
276-80, 294, 428
do not live in slums 136
failures of instruments
of 251
following the two 448
give full help 423
466
PAGE
Masters, have taught much 441
help every ego 204
influence many people 204-5
old links with 278-9
pupils of, outside the
Society 205
reached through peace 172
sacrifice leads to 37
sympathize without suffering 99, 240, 251
to, the complex is
simple 163
train pupils astrally
and mentally 425
want mighty spiritual
powers 209
who founded the Society 447
Masters and the Path,
The 187,264,330
Materialization, how learnt 46
Matter, spirit learns
to dominate 333
Mayavi-rupa 264, 425
Meditation and mental body 169
effects of 8
on Light on the Path 8
posture in 96-7
Memory of past lives 221
Mercy and malignity 348
Messina earthquake 388, 390
Microscopic complexity
163, 373-4
Miliionaires, American 2(0
Mind, control of 223
development of 343
limitation of 403-4
not enough 264-8
opening the doors of the 306
stages of the 169
union of higher and
lower 45-6
Minds of the dead 263, 403-4
Missionary, spirit of the 129
PAGE
Monad, Adept one with 317-8
and ego, union of the
195, 334
and triple spirit 212,444
choose path 195
is the "I" 220
is the Self 108
knowledge of the 444
known to Adept 308
progress of the 343-4
puts down ray 312
task of the 414-5
the divine spark 157
Monk, life of the 372
Moody and Sankey 273
Moon, Adepts from the 245
Morya, a king 35
Motives, ascribe good 407
in service 54, 78-9
of the world 66-7
Mourning 391
Mountain, cast into the sea 46
Music, modern 356-7
Myers, Frederick 313-4
Mysteries, Egyptian 90, 323
Eleusinian 14
Greek 14
NAMASTE 286
Napoleon 210
Nature, disharmony with 396
preserve beauty of 378
song of 353-4
sympathy with 395-6, 437
working with 437
Nature-spirits, deceitful 396-7
Nerve, loss of 327
Nerves, controlled by pupil 443-4
Nirvana as a stage 157
Buddha on 232
the "rest" of 124
Nirvanic plane and Arhat
229-30,433
467
PAGE
Nirvanic plane, unity on the 119
Noblesse oblige 147
Nothing, appear as 61,160,171
Noumenal world 231
OCCULT treatises 3
Occultism, First Steps in 60
Occultism, no standing still in 259
Occultist and ambition 47
does not display will 164
does not waste time 38
in crowd 136-7
is unobtrusive 61
never loses self-control 273
optimistic 355
purity of 234
quietens emotions 171-2
Offence, do not take 102
Olcott, Col., as captain saved
Mme. Blavatsky 35-6
Old age, fear of 177
Operation, simile of
100, 256, 286, 392
Opportunities, many lost 222
Origen 154, 297, 320
Orthodoxy and Heterodoxy 129
PAIN, always respond to 43
in different people 30
in temporary 377
much, caused by mind 249
Past, altering the 178-9
Path, becoming the 211
chosen by Monad 195
each must himself tread 414
endless 434
higher Self chooses 192
not long relatively 446
rapid progress on the 226
temptations on the 234
the left-hand 19,42
the probationary 328
"Thou art the" 211
Paths, the left and the right
Peace after Initiation always about us be with you day of the great
PAGE
19,42 305 258 430
332-4
gaining and giving 171
Master gives His 286-9, 429
of the Great Ones 93
passing understanding 184
Pearls before swine 295
Pentecost 197
Personal outlook, the 410
Personality and astral body 20
and ego, union of 45, 105, 198
broken away 384-5
independence of the 199
must call ego 337
must learn service 196
must stand aside 337
obedience of 223-4
transcending desires
of the 186
Peter, S., who was? 319
Pharisees 183
Physical 262
Piano, simile of 221
Pirate, simile of 194
Pistis Sophia 318
Plan, God's, is that all
shall help 261
recognition of the 87,102
Plane, teaching on astral 329
Planes, higher and lower 313-4
rising through the 118, 425
Planetary spirits were
human 216
Pool, simile of muddy 398-9
Possessions, what, to
desire 180
Power and wealth 48,51
to appear as nothing 160
worldly positions of 59, 65
468
PAGE
Powers, all are God's 107, 119
Masters want great
spiritual 209
Prejudices in favour 409
our, prevent service 402-3
Priest, blessing of a 431
C.W. Leadbeater as 417
Principles, standing by 165-6
Progress, all round 396
and control of bodies 223
and peace 173
and struggle 172
and suffering 95-6
and time 56, 78
certainty of 158
children ready for 57, 175
for the sake of service 109
forget your own 55, 161, 363
higher, delicate 174
many ready for 57
no limit to 159
obstruction of 175
on Path, speed of 226
preventing others' 170
service essential to 206
steady 260
Propinquity 409
Protection by the Master 389
Pruning, simile of 283
Psychic powers and others'
thoughts 31
and pride 60
Pupil and ambition 49-50
and crowds 443
attends to smaller things 188
avoids jarring the Master 443
can test thoughts 442
desire to be 53
does the lower work 204
guided by Master
130,328-9,425
indifferent to opinions 31
must be sensitive 30-1
PAGE
Pupil must control nerves 31, 443
never forgets Master 188
not proud or aggressive 60
one with the Master 187-9, 443
relation of, to Master
47, 328-9, 442-3
thinks of Master's work 161
Pupils descend without
depression 436
do any work 80, 82, 85, 435
force sent through 186, 329
how, regard others 56
not usually proud 60
Oriental 205
selected by Masters 276-7
who fail 278
Purana quoted 176
Pythagoras at Taormina 13
on numbers, etc. 262
Queen of the Air
396
RACE, fifth, perfection of 448
the sixth 448
Ray and higher Self 87
Rays of Theosophists 447-8
Razor-path, simile of 246
Reading, occult 271
Reality, is God's thought 355
Reincarnation and memory 221-2
Religion, do not ridicule 129
training received through
350, 406
vagueness in 348
Religions, all have cosmogony 437
begin well 406
vagueness, in 348-50
Repugnance, feeling of
89-90, 116
Reservoir 431
Results, looking for 51, 88, 160
Revivalist meetings 272-4
Right and wrong 211
469
Right must triumph
Rising and falling
Roads, many
Rome and parties
Ruparaga
Ruskin
Russia, late Czar of
201
PAGE 375-6 325 315 13 434 396 66
SACRIFICE, law of 353-4
Sacrifices, attitude to 37
blood, primitive 35
in private life 338
in war 337-8, 375
Saints, Christian 297
Salaam 286
Salvation 153, 265
Samadhi, a relative term 322-3
effect of 322
of Arhat 228
Sanyojana 120
Savage, ambitions of 106-7
energy of the 210
Savages reincarnated in
slums 364
Scaffolding, simile of 51
Sea and the drop, simile
of the 321
Secret, the final 190, 444
Secret Doctrine, The, difficult 420
on Father-Mother 317
on Master's body 217
on spark and flame 212
Secrets of earth, air and
water 437
Self, connections of higher
and lower 46-7,411
difficult to understand 412-3
forgetting 55, 160
individuality is not 220
is happy 92-3
Monad is the 313
self-reliance and the 107
stand aside from the 414
PAGE
Self, unity with the One 107
will win 375
Self-knowledge 312
Selfishness and unselfishness
108-9
attitude towards 89
Self-reliance 107
Self-sacrifice 198
Sensa 289-90
Sensation, function of 140-7
Sensitiveness of pupil 31
Separateness 107-8, 114
Service, essential to progress 206
impersonal 183
motives in 77
new ways of 205
or self-development 162
small and great 162-4
the highest idea 195
without reservation 435
Shankaracharya on subject and
object 140
Shanti 286
Shells, protective 135
Shine, never wish to 160
Silence, moment of 259-61
Simile of, ball 40
battle-field 340
blood 35
captive balloon 313
chick in shell 260
cicadas 32
dead point 67, 76
delicate fronds 173
differential calculus 284
dog barking 144
doll 148
electricity 307-8,432
engine-driver 194
examination 327
flower 149,255
fortress 312
funnel 120
470
PAGE
Simile of gravitation 181,223
horses 219, 236, 237
hydraulic machine 276-7
jet of water 432
lotus 173
muddy pool 399
operation 100,256,286,391
pearls before swine 295
piano 221
pillar of tempi 133-4
pirate 194
pruning 283
razor-path 246
rolling wheel 80
scaffolding 51
sea and the drop 321
star 115
tide 13
tool 54
toys 38
training for race 38
train in valley 179
wagon and star 88
walls 238
warrior 332-7, 374
waters 362,367
whales 275
Sin against self 175
the unpardonable 175
Sing, "I, because I must" 77
Sinners, unity with 240
Sinnett, Mr., in Egypt 278-9
lectures on astral plane 331
wrote Esoteric
Buddhism 421
Sins of world are ours 116
Slums, work in 29, 136, 363
Smoking 189
Snakes..., not evil 397
Soldier, effect of
self-sacrifice of 334-5
Soldiers, many, reborn 448
Son of the Master 287
PAGE
Song of life 347,353-4,361-2, 368, 372-3, 376
Sorrow of disciple 94
sympathy without
20-1,28, 100, 240,249
worst feature of 256
Soul, age of the 133
"before the, can stand" 35
bloom of the 304-
doors of the 306
is invincible 257
star of the 242
unfolds in peace 173
Souls, lost 379-86
younger 89
Southey quoted 367
Space, full of life 439
Spark, becomes a sun 368
hangs from Flame 119, 360
Speech and higher powers 426-7
and knowledge 416
fount of 427
helping by 310
purification of 33
Spirit, the triple 308, 444
senseless on lower planes 215
Spirits, planetary 216
the Seven 444
Spiritualism 439
Star of the soul 242
simile of 115
Stars, morning, sang
together 354-5
Still, no one can stand 259
Storm, calm after 255
Storms, we make 258
Strange Story, A 384
Study, necessity for 311
Subba Row, Swami T.,
on Light on the Path 14, 15
taught C.W. Leadbeater 330
Sub-race, the fifth 12
the sixth 448
471
PAGE
Success, depends on effort 15-16
of others, rejoice in 166
Suffering and progress 95-6
cause of 22,99-100
diminished by common
sense 249
growth through 256
is magnified 249
mitigation of 101-2
of Arhat 240, 247
use of 247, 392
Sun always shining 309
Superiority, sense of 82, 88
Supernature, laws of 228
Surroundings, make, beautiful 396
Sympathy, the ignorant most
need 242
true and false 21,29
with all types 393
with nature 395-6
with old civilizations 13-14
without sorrow
21,29, 100,240,249
TABLE of rules 5
Teaching, fruitful only if
lived 312
on astral plane 328
Temple, simile of pillars of 133-4
Temptations on the Path 235-6
Tennyson quoted 165
Theresa, S. 427
Theosophical Society could
set example 250
Masters who founded the 448
opportunities of members
of the 448
Theosophy and intellect 266
evidence for 418
no vagueness in 351
some grasp at 405
the best theory of life 416-18
PAGE
Thought, affects others 93, 430
Christ on act of 257-8
control, at the beginning 143
control of 143
from the past 141
most, coloured by desire 169
pupil can test his 442
Thoughts, control of, on Path 237
how to transmute 40-5
not dwelt upon 140
old revivified 141,237
stand away from your 140
Threshold, falling back
from the 238, 321
Tide, simile of the 13
Time, and progress 79
and the eternal 84
does matter 178
passing the 104
Toil and delight 253
Tolerance, among the rays 87
increases on Path 84
needed to help all 202
To-morrow, live for 110
Tongues, cloven 196
of fire 318
Tool, simile of 54
Toys, simile of 38
Train in valley, simile of 179
Training for race, simile of 38
Trees, cutting down 378
Trinity, Three yet One 315-6
Troubles, attitude towards 309
of advanced man 125
Truth and the Logos 293
Truths, the three 296-1
Turner 395
Twins upon a line 248
UNDERSTANDING, necessity for
393,401-3,405-7 of others, no 401-2
472
Understudies
Unity of all
realization of the way of variety in with one Self with sinners
Upanishads
PAGE
447
354
23
43
132
107
134-7,241 151,236
VAGUENESS in religion 348-9
no, in Theosophy 351
Vairagya 65-6
Vampires 386
Vegetarianism 165-6,438
Vehicles become unnecessary 216
for own use 216
Venetian Chohan 4-6,9-11,
376,429
on individuality 220
on many roads 201
on super-nature 227
on the voice of the
silence 304
Venus, Adepts from 245
Versatility necessary 201-2
Vesuvius, Mt. 388
Vices are also steps 207-11, 241
Virtues and vices 207-11
Voice, before the, can speak 33
Voice of the Silence, The
reference to 43, 247,
262, 264
Voice of the Silence,
meaning of the 305, 328
never leaves disciple 285
Vote, the majority 153
WACHTMEISTER, Countess 252
Wagon, hitch, to star 88
Wall, the guardian 240
Walls, simile of 239
PAGE
War, sacrifice in 3.37-8
sensations of the 145
Warrior, simile of 332-7, 374-5
Waters, simile of 361, 367
Way, choosing the 19]
is spiritual 211
man is himself the 220
seek out the 185
stages on the 433-4
Weed, the giant 105, 124, 129
Werewolves 386
Whales, simile of 275
Wheel, simile of 80
Will, appearance of strong 164
average man has little 103
great power of the 46
move with the divine 360
partial freedom of 360
union by 46, 411
universe expresses God 369
use your 54
Wordsworth quoted 358
Work, appreciate others' 166, 396
as the ambitious do 65
astral 206,425
disciple does any needed 192
duty of active 371
for work's sake 77
half-done 359
highest form of 78
in old age 176
knowledge gained through 207
"my" ' 162
no, insignificant 376
of the occultist 104
or preparation for work 204
pupil thinks of Master's 162
seeing results of 77
steadily 323
the final secret 190, 444
"the hidden" 90, 155
the lower, who will do? 79-80
there is unlimited 103
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