Cardiff Theosophical Society in Wales
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Searchable Full Text of
The Hidden Side of Things by C
THE HIDDEN SIDE
OF THINGS
BY
C
The
Secret Doctrine by H P Blavatsky
Return to Searchable Text Index
1948
THE
THEOSOPHICAL PUBLISHING HOUSE
A
DYAR,
First
Edition 1913
Second
” 1919
Third
” 1923
Fourth
” 1948
FOREWORD
THIS
book has been in contemplation, and even in process of construction, for
the
last ten or twelve years, but only now has it been found possible to publish
it.
It has lost nothing by the delay, for a student of the occult never ceases
to
learn, and I know a good deal more in various ways now than I did twelve
years
ago, even though I see still more clearly than ever what an infinity of
further
knowledge stretches before us for our acquiring.
Much
of what is written here has appeared in the form of articles in The
Theosophist
and elsewhere ; but all has been revised, and considerable additions
have
been made. I trust that it may help some brothers to realise the importance
of
that far larger part of life which is beyond our physical sight -- to
understand
that, as the Lord Buddha Himself has taught us:
The
unseen things are more.
C.
W. LEADBEATER
CONTENTS
FIRST
SECTION
INTRODUCTORY
PAGE
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CHAPTER I
OCCULTISM
3
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CHAPTER II
THE
WORLD AS A WHOLE
A
Wider Outlook. The Fourth Dimension. The Higher World.
The
Purpose of Life 14
SECOND
SECTION
HOW
WE ARE INFLUENCED
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CHAPTER III
BY
PLANETS
Radiations.
The Deity of the Solar System. Different Types of Matter.
The
Living Centres. Their Influence.
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CHAPTER IV
BY
THE SUN
The
Heat of the Sun. The Willow-Leaves. Vitality. The Vitality Globule.
The
Absorption of Vitality. Vitality and Health. Vitality not Magnetism 44
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CHAPTER V
BY
NATURAL SURROUNDINGS
The
Weather. Rocks. Trees. The Seven Types. Animals. Human Beings. Travel 64
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CHAPTER VI
BY
NATURE-SPIRITS
An
Evolution Apart. Lines of Evolution. Overlapping. Fairies. National Types.
On
a Sacred Mountain in
Romances
of Fairyland. Their Attitude towards
Friendship.
Water-Spirits. Freshwater Fairies. Sylphs. Their Amusements.
An
Abnormal Development. The Advantages of Studying Them 84
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CHAPTER VII
BY
CENTRES OF MAGNETISM
Our
Great Cathedrals.
Buildings.
Cemeteries. Universities and Schools. Libraries, Museums and
Galleries.
The Stock-yards of
Rivers
125
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CHAPTER VIII
BY
CEREMONIES
The
Hierarchy. The Three Paths. Christian Magic. The
Anglican
Church. The Music. The Thought-Forms. The Effect of Devotion. Holy
Water.
Baptism. Union is Strength. Consecration. The Bells. Incense. Services
for
the Dead. Other Religions. The Orders of the Clergy 154
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CHAPTER IX
BY
SOUNDS
Sound,
Colour and Form. Religious Music. Singing. Military Music. Sounds
in
Nature. In Domestic Life. Noises 195
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CHAPTER X
BY
PUBLIC OPINION
Race
Prejudice. Popular Prejudice. Political Prejudice. Government. Religious
Prejudice.
Class Prejudice. Public Standards. Caste Prejudice. The Duty of
Freedom.
Business Methods. The Results of Deceit. Prejudice against Persons.
The
Influence of Friends. Popular Superstitions. The Fear of Gossip. A Better
Aspect
211
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CHAPTER XI
BY
OCCASIONAL EVENTS
A
Funeral. The Disposal of the Dead Body. A Surgical Operation. A
Lecture.
A Political Meeting. Crowds. A Séance. A Religious Revival. A
Wave
of Patriotism. War Catastrophes 240
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CHAPTER XII
BY
UNSEEN BEINGS
Sensitive
People. A Remarkable Case. The Vision Investigated. Writing a Book 284
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CHAPTER XIII
OUR
ATTITUDE TOWARDS THESE
INFLUENCES
Protective
Shells. The Etheric Shell. Shields. A Warning. The Astral Shell.
The
Mental Shell. The Best Use of a Shell. A Beautiful Story. The
THIRD
SECTION
HOW
WE INFLUENCE OURSELVES
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CHAPTER XIV
BY
OUR HABITS
Food.
Intoxicating Liquors. Flesh-Eating. Smoking. Drugs. Cleanliness.
Occult
Hygiene. Physical Exercise.
Thoroughness.
Novel and Newspaper-Reading. Speech. Meditation 355
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CHAPTER XV
BY
PHYSICAL ENVIRONMENT
Houses.
Streets. Pictures. Curiosities. Books. Furnishing. Jewellery. Talismans.
Things
We Carry About. Money. Clothing 390
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CHAPTER XVI
BY
MENTAL CONDITIONS
Thought-forms.
Moods. Recurrent Thoughts. Falling in Love. Unset Blossom.
Occultism
and Marriage. Changes in Consciousness 422
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CHAPTER XVII
BY
OUR AMUSEMENTS
Children's
Games. Sport. Fishing. Horse. Racing. Gambling. The Theatre 438
FOURTH
SECTION
HOW
WE INFLUENCE OTHERS
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CHAPTER XVIII
BY
WHAT WE ARE
The
Interrelation of Men. The Duty of Happiness Peace 453
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CHAPTER XIX
BY
WHAT WE THINK
The
Realm of Thought. The Effects of Thought. The Thought-Wave. The
Thought-Form.
What We can do by Thought. The Responsibility of Thought 471
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CHAPTER XX
BY
WHAT WE DO
Work
for the Poor. The Force of the Master. The Manufacture of Talismans.
Varieties
of Talismans. Demagnetisation. Do Little Things Well. Writing a
Letter.
Work during Sleep 501
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CHAPTER XXI
BY
COLLECTIVE THOUGHT
Church
Hymns and Rituals. Congregations. Monasteries. Effect upon the
Dead.
Saving Souls. People who Dislike Ceremonies. Theosophical Meetings 531
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CHAPTER XXII
BY
OUR RELATION TO CHILDREN
The
Duty of Parents. The Plasticity of Childhood. The Influence of Parents.
The
Aura of a Child. Carelessness of Parents. The Necessity for Love.
Religious
Training. Physical Training 552
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CHAPTER XXIII
BY
OUR RELATION TO LOWER KINGDOMS
Domestic
Animals. Birds. Plants. Nature-Spirits. Inanimate Surroundings. A
Ship.
Machines. Unlucky Ships. Stone used in Building. Sea-Sickness 584
FIFTH
SECTION
CONCLUSION
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CHAPTER XXIV
THE
RESULTS OF THE KNOWLEDGE
A
Summary. The Future 605
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CHAPTER XXV
THE
WAY TO SEERSHIP 615
FIRST
SECTION
INTRODUCTORY
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CHAPTER I
OCCULTISM
THE
term ` occultism' is one which has been much misunderstood. In the mind of
the
ignorant it was, even recently, synonymous with magic, and its students were
supposed
to be practitioners of the black art, veiled in flowing robes of
scarlet
covered with cabalistic signs, sitting amidst uncanny surroundings with
a
black cat as a familiar, compounding unholy decoctions by the aid of satanic
evocations.
Even
now, and among those whom education has raised above such superstition as
this,
there still remains a good deal of misapprehension. For them its
derivation
from the Latin word occultus ought to explain at once that it is the
science
of the hidden; but they often regard it contemptuously as nonsensical
and
unpractical, as connected with dreams and fortune-telling, with hysteria and
necromancy,
with the search for the elixir of life and the philosopher' s stone.
Students,
who should know better, perpetually speak as though the hidden side of
things
were intentionally concealed, as though knowledge with regard to it ought
to
be in the hands of all men, but was being deliberately withheld by the
caprice
or selfishness of a few; whereas the fact is that nothing is or can be
hidden
from us except by our own limitations, and that for every man as he
evolves
the world grows wider and wider, because he is able to see more and more
of
its grandeur and its loveliness.
As
an objection against this statement may be cited the well-known fact that, at
each
of the great Initiations which mark the advance of the neophyte along the
path
of the higher progress, a definite new block of knowledge is given to him.
That
is quite true, but the knowledge can be given only because the recipient
has
evolved to the point at which he can grasp it. It is no more being withheld
from
ordinary humanity than the knowledge of conic sections is being withheld
from
the child who is still struggling with the multiplication-table. When that
child
reaches the level at which he can comprehend quadratic equations, the
teacher
is ready to explain to him the rules which govern them. In exactly the
same
way, when a man has qualified himself for the reception of the information
given
at a certain Initiation, he is forthwith initiated. But the only way to
attain
the capacity to imbibe that higher knowledge is to begin by trying to
understand
our present conditions, and to order our lives intelligently in view
of
the facts which we find.
Occultism,
then, is the study of the hidden side of nature; or rather, it is the
study
of the whole of nature, instead of only that small part of it which comes
under
the investigation of modern science. At the present stage of our
development,
by far the greater part of nature is entirely unknown to the
majority
of mankind, because they have as yet unfolded only a minute proportion
of
the faculties which they possess. The ordinary man, therefore, is basing his
philosophy
(so far as he has any) upon entirely inadequate grounds; his actions
are
moulded more or less in accordance with the few laws of nature which he
knows,
and consequently both his theory of life and his daily practice are
necessarily
inaccurate. The occultist adopts a far more comprehensive view; he
takes
into account those forces of the higher worlds whose action is hidden from
the
materialist, and so he moulds his life in obedience to the entire code of
Nature'
s laws, instead of only by occasional reference to a minute fragment of
it.
It
is difficult for the man who knows nothing of the occult to realise how
great,
how serious and how all-pervading are his own limitations. The only way
in
which we can adequately symbolise them is to suppose some form of
consciousness
still more limited than our own, and to think in what directions
it
would differ from ours. Suppose it were possible that a consciousness could
exist
capable of appreciating only solid matter-- the liquid and gaseous forms
of
matter being to it as entirely non-existent as are the etheric and astral and
mental
forms to the ordinary man. We can readily see how for such a
consciousness
any adequate conception of the world in which we live would be
impossible.
Solid matter, which alone could be perceived by it, would constantly
be
found to be undergoing serious modifications, about which no rational theory
could
be formed.
For
example, whenever a shower of rain took place, the solid matter of the earth
would
undergo change; it would in many cases become both softer and heavier when
charged
with moisture, but the reason of such a change would necessarily be
wholly
incomprehensible to the consciousness which we are supposing. The wind
might
lift clouds of sand and transfer them from one place to another; but such
motion
of solid matter would be entirely inexplicable to one who had no
conception
of the existence of the air. Without considering more examples of
what
is already so obvious, we see clearly how hopelessly inadequate would be
such
an idea of the world as would be attainable by this consciousness limited
to
solid matter. What we do not realise so readily, however, is that our present
consciousness
falls just as far short of that of the developed man as this
supposed
consciousness would fall short of that which we now possess.
Theosophical
students are at least theoretically acquainted with the idea that
to
everything there is a hidden side; and they also know that in the great
majority
of cases this unseen side is of far greater importance than that which
is
visible to the physical eye.
To
put the same idea from another point of view, the senses, by means of which
we
obtain all our information about external objects, are as yet imperfectly
developed;
therefore the information obtained is partial. What we see in the
world
about us is by no means all that there is to see, and a man who will take
the
trouble to cultivate his senses will find that, in proportion as he
succeeds,
life will become fuller and richer for him. For the lover of nature,
of
art, of music, a vast field of incredibly intensified and exalted pleasure
lies
close at hand, if he will fit himself to enter upon it. Above all, for the
lover
of his fellow-man there is the possibility of far more intimate
comprehension
and therefore far wider usefulness.
We
are only halfway up the ladder of evolution at present, and so our senses are
only
half-evolved. But it is possible for us to hurry up that ladder-- possible,
by
hard work, to make our senses now what all men' s senses will be in the
distant
future. The man who has succeeded in doing this is often called a seer
or
a clairvoyant.
A
fine word that-- clairvoyant. It means ` one who sees clearly' ; but it has
been
horribly misused and degraded, so that people associate it with all sorts
of
trickery and imposture-- with gypsies who for sixpence will tell a
maid-servant
what is the colour of the hair of the duke who is coming to marry
her,
or with establishments in
the
future is supposed to be lifted for more aristocratic clients.
All
this is irregular and unscientific; in many cases it is mere charlatanry and
bare-faced
robbery. But not always; to foresee the future up to a certain point
is
a possibility; it can be done, and it has been done, scores of times; and
some
of these irregular practitioners unquestionably do at times possess flashes
of
higher vision, though usually they cannot depend upon having them when they
want
them.
But
behind all this vagueness there is a bed-rock of fact-- something which can
be
approached rationally and studied scientifically. It is as the result of many
years
of such study and experiment that I state emphatically what I have written
above--
that it is possible for men to develop their senses until they can see
much
more of this wonderful and beautiful world in which we live than is ever
suspected
by the untrained average man, who lives contentedly in the midst of
Cimmerean
darkness and calls it light.
Two
thousand and five hundred years ago the greatest of Indian teachers, Gautama
the
BUDDHA, said to His disciples: ` Do not complain and cry and pray, but open
your
eyes and see. The truth is all about you, if you will only take the bandage
from
your eyes and look; and it is so wonderful, so beautiful, so far beyond
anything
that men have ever dreamt of or prayed for, and it is for ever and for
ever.'
He
assuredly meant far more than this of which I am writing now, but this is a
step
on the way towards that glorious goal of perfect realisation. If it does
not
yet tell us quite all the truth, at any rate it gives us a good deal of it.
It
removes for us a host of common misconceptions, and clears up for us many
points
which are considered as mysteries or problems by those who are as yet
uninstructed
in this lore. It shows that all these things were mysteries and
problems
to us only because heretofore we saw so small a part of the facts,
because
we were looking at the various matters from below, and as isolated and
unconnected
fragments, instead of rising above them to a standpoint whence they
are
comprehensible as parts of a mighty whole. It settles in a moment many
questions
which have been much disputed-- such, for example, as that of the
continued
existence of man after death. It explains many of the strange things
which
the Churches tell us; it dispels our ignorance and removes our fear of the
unknown
by supplying us with a rational and orderly scheme.
Besides
all this, it opens up a new world to us in regard to our every-day
life--
a new world which is yet a part of the old. It shows us that, as I began
by
saying, there is a hidden side to everything, and that our most ordinary
actions
often produce results of which without this study we should never have
known.
By it we understand the rationale of what is commonly called telepathy,
for
we see that just as there are waves of heat or light or electricity, so
there
are waves produced by thought, though they are in a finer type of matter
than
the others, and therefore not perceptible to our physical senses. By
studying
these vibrations we see how thought acts, and we learn that it is a
tremendous
power for good or for ill-- a power which we are all of us
unconsciously
wielding to some extent-- which we can use a hundredfold more
effectively
when we comprehend its workings. Further investigation reveals to us
the
method of formation of what are called ` thought-forms,' and indicates how
these
can be usefully employed both for ourselves and for others in a dozen
different
ways.
The
occultist studies carefully all these unseen effects, and consequently knows
much
more fully than other men the result of what he is doing. He has more
information
about life than others have, and he exercises his common-sense by
modifying
his life in accordance with what he knows. In many ways we live
differently
now from our forefathers in mediaeval times, because we know more
than
they did. We have discovered certain laws of hygiene; wise men live
according
to that knowledge, and therefore the average length of life is
decidedly
greater now than it was in the Middle Ages. There are still some who
are
foolish or ignorant, who either do not know the laws of health or are
careless
about keeping them; they think that because disease-germs are invisible
to
them, they are therefore of no importance; they don't believe in new ideas.
Those
are the people who suffer first when an epidemic disease arrives, or some
unusual
strain is put upon the community. They suffer unnecessarily, because
they
are behind the times. But they injure not only themselves by their neglect;
the
conditions caused by their ignorance or carelessness often bring infection
into
a district which might otherwise be free from it.
The
matter of which I am writing is precisely the same thing at a different
level.
The microscope revealed disease-germs; the intelligent man profited by
the
discovery, and rearranged his life, while the unintelligent man paid no
attention,
but went on as before. Clairvoyance reveals thought-force and many
other
previously unsuspected powers; once more the intelligent man profits by
this
discovery, and rearranges his life accordingly. Once more also the
unintelligent
man takes no heed of the new discoveries; once more he thinks that
what
he cannot see can have no importance for him; once more he continues to
suffer
quite unnecessarily, because he is behind the times.
Not
only does he often suffer positive pain, but he also misses so much of the
pleasure
of life. To painting, to music, to poetry, to literature, to religious
ceremonies,
to the beauties of nature there is always a hidden side-- a fulness,
a
completeness beyond the mere physical; and the man who can see or sense this
has
at his command a wealth of enjoyment far beyond the comprehension of the man
who
passes through it all with unopened perceptions.
The
perceptions exist in every human being, though as yet undeveloped in most.
To
unfold them means generally a good deal of time and hard work, but it is
exceedingly
well worth while. Only let no man undertake the effort unless his
motives
are absolutely pure and unselfish, for he who seeks wider faculty for
any
but the most exalted purposes will bring upon himself a curse and not a
blessing.
But
the man of affairs, who has no time to spare for a sustained effort to
evolve
nascent powers within himself, is not thereby debarred from sharing in
some
at least of the benefits derived from occult study, any more than the man
who
possesses no microscope is thereby prevented from living hygienically. The
latter
has not seen the disease-germs, but from the testimony of the specialist
he
knows that they exist, and he knows how to guard himself from them. Just in
the
same way a man who has as yet no dawning of clairvoyant vision may study the
writings
of those who have gained it, and in this way profit by the results of
their
labour. True, he cannot yet see all the glory and the beauty which are
hidden
from us by the imperfection of our senses; but he can readily learn how
to
avoid the unseen evil, and how to set in motion the unseen forces of good.
So,
long before he actually sees them, he can conclusively prove to himself
their
existence, just as the man who drives an electric motor proves to himself
the
existence of electricity, though he has never seen it and does not in the
least
know what it is.
We
must try to understand as much as we can of the world in which we live. We
must
not fall behind in the march of evolution, we must not let ourselves be
anachronisms,
for lack of interest in these new discoveries, which yet are only
the
presentation from a new point of view of the most archaic wisdom. “Knowledge
is
power” in this case as in every other; in this case, as in every other, to
secure
the best results, the glorious trinity of power, wisdom and love must
ever
go hand in hand.
There
is a difference, however, between theoretical acquaintance and actual
realisation;
and I have thought that it might help students somewhat towards the
grasp
of the realities to have a description of the unseen side of some of the
simple
transactions of every day life as they appear to clairvoyant vision-- to
one,
let us say, who has developed within himself the power of perception
through
the astral, mental and causal bodies. Their appearance as seen by means
of
the intuitional vehicle is infinitely grander and more effective still, but
so
entirely inexpressible that it seems useless to say anything about it; for on
that
level all experience is within the man instead of without, and the glory
and
the beauty of it is no longer something which he watches with interest, but
something
which he feels in his inmost heart, because it is part of himself.
The
object of this book is to give some hints as to the inner side of the world
as
a whole and of our daily life. We shall consider this latter in three
divisions,
which will resemble the conjugations of our youthful days in being
passive,
middle and active respectively-- how we are influenced, how we
influence
ourselves, and how we influence others; and we shall conclude by
observing
a few of the results which must inevitably flow from a wider diffusion
of
this knowledge as to the realities of existence.
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CHAPTER II
THE
WORLD AS A WHOLE
A
WIDER OUTLOOK
WHEN
we look upon the world around us, we cannot hide from ourselves the
existence
of a vast amount of sorrow and suffering. True, much of it is
obviously
the fault of the sufferers, and might easily be avoided by the
exercise
of a little self-control and common-sense; but there is also much which
is
not immediately self-induced, but undoubtedly comes from without. It often
seems
as though evil triumphs, as though justice fails in the midst of the storm
and
stress of the roaring confusion of life, and because of this many despair of
the
ultimate result, and doubt whether there is in truth any plan of definite
progress
behind all this bewildering chaos.
It
is all a question of the point of view; the man who is himself in the thick
of
the fight cannot judge of the plan of the general or the progress of the
conflict.
To understand the battle as a whole, one must withdraw from the tumult
and
look down upon the field from above. In exactly the same way, to comprehend
the
plan of the battle of life we must withdraw ourselves from it for the time,
and
in thought look down upon it from above-- from the point of view not of the
body
which perishes but of the soul which lives for ever. We must take into
account
not only the small part of life which our physical eyes can see, but the
vast
totality of which at present so much is invisible to us.
Until
that has been done we are in the position of a man looking from beneath at
the
under side of some huge piece of elaborate tapestry which is in process of
being
woven. The whole thing is to us but a confused medley of varied colour, of
ragged
hanging ends, without order or beauty, and we are unable to conceive what
all
this mad clatter of machinery can be doing; but when through our knowledge
of
the hidden side of nature we are able to look down from above, the pattern
begins
to unfold itself before our eyes, and the apparent chaos shows itself as
orderly
progress.
A
more forcible analogy may be obtained by contemplating in imagination the view
of
life which would present itself to some tiny microbe whirled down by a
resistless
flood, such as that which rushes through the gorge of
Boiling,
foaming, swirling, the force of that stream is so tremendous that its
centre
is many feet higher than its sides. The microbe on the surface of such a
torrent
must be dashed hither and thither wildly amidst the foam, sometimes
thrown
high in air, sometimes whirled backwards in an eddy, unable to see the
banks
between which he is passing, having every sense occupied in the mad
struggle
to keep himself somehow above water. To him that strife and stress is
all
the world of which he knows; how can he tell whither the stream is going?
But
the man who stands on the bank, looking down on it all, can see that all
this
bewildering tumult is merely superficial, and that the one fact of real
importance
is the steady onward sweep of those millions of tons of water
downwards
towards the sea. If we can furthermore suppose the microbe to have
some
idea of progress, and to identify it with forward motion, he might well be
dismayed
when he found himself hurled aside or borne backwards by an eddy; while
the
spectator could see that the apparent backward movement was but a delusion,
since
even the little eddies were all being swept onwards with the rest. It is
no
exaggeration to say that as is the knowledge of the microbe struggling in the
stream
to that of the man looking down upon it, so is the comprehension of life
possessed
by the man in the world to that of one who knows its hidden side.
Best
of all, though not so easy to follow because of the effort of imagination
involved,
is the parable offered to us by Mr. Hinton in his Scientific Romances.
For
purposes connected with his argument Mr. Hinton supposes the construction of
a
large vertical wooden frame, from top to bottom of which are tightly stretched
a
multitude of threads at all sorts of angles. If then a sheet of paper be
inserted
horizontally in the frame so that these threads pass through it, it is
obvious
that each thread will make a minute hole in the paper. If then the frame
as
a whole be moved slowly upwards, but the paper kept still, various effects
will
be produced. When a thread is perpendicular it will slip through its hole
without
difficulty, but when a thread is fixed at an angle it will cut a slit in
the
paper as the frame moves.
Suppose
instead of a sheet of paper we have a thin sheet of wax, and let the wax
be
sufficiently viscous to close up behind the moving thread. Then instead of a
number
of slits we shall have a number of moving holes, and to a sight which
cannot
see the threads that cause them, the movement of these holes will
necessarily
appear irregular and inexplicable. Some will approach one another,
some
will recede; various patterns and combinations will be formed and dissolve;
all
depending upon the arrangement of the invisible threads. Now, by a still
more
daring flight of fancy, think not of the holes but of the minute sections
of
thread for the moment filling them, and imagine those sections as conscious
atoms.
They think of themselves as separate entities, they find themselves
moving
without their own volition in what seems a maze of inextricable
confusion,
and this bewildering dance is life as they know it. Yet all this
apparent
complexity and aimless motion is in fact a delusion caused by the
limitation
of the consciousness of those atoms, for only one extremely simple
movement
is really taking place-- the steady upward motion of the frame as a
whole.
But the atom can never comprehend that until it realises that it is not a
separated
fragment, but part of a thread.
`
Which things are an allegory,' and a very beautiful one; for the threads are
ourselves--
our true selves, our souls-- and the atoms represent us in this
earthly
life. So long as we confine our consciousness to the atom, and look on
life
only from this earthly standpoint, we can never understand what is
happening
in the world. But if we will raise our consciousness to the point of
view
of the soul, the thread of which the bodily life is only a minute part and
a
temporary expression, we shall then see that there is a splendid simplicity at
the
back of all the complexity, a unity behind all the diversity. The complexity
and
the diversity are illusions produced by our limitations; the simplicity and
the
unity are real.
The
world in which we live has a hidden side to it, for the conception of it in
the
mind of the ordinary man in the street is utterly imperfect along three
quite
distinct lines. First, it has an extension at its own level which he is at
present
quite incapable of appreciating; secondly, it has a higher side which is
too
refined for his undeveloped perceptions; thirdly, it has a meaning and a
purpose
of which he usually has not the faintest glimpse. To say that we do not
see
the whole of our world is to state the case far too feebly; what we see is
an
absolutely insignificant part of it, beautiful though that part may be. And
just
as the additional extension is infinite compared to our idea of space, and
cannot
be expressed in its terms, so are the scope and the splendour of the
whole
infinitely greater than any conception that can possibly be formed of it
here,
and they cannot be expressed in any terms of that part of the world which
we
know.
THE
FOURTH DIMENSION
The
extension spoken of under the first head has often been called the fourth
dimension.
Many writers have scoffed at this and denied its existence, yet for
all
that it remains a fact that our physical world is in truth a world of many
dimensions,
and that every object in it has an extension, however minute, in a
direction
which is unthinkable to us at our present stage of mental evolution.
When
we develop astral senses we are brought so much more directly into contact
with
this extension that our minds are more or less forced into recognition of
it,
and the more intelligent gradually grow to understand it; though there are
those
of less intellectual growth who, even after death and in the astral world,
cling
desperately to their accustomed limitations and adopt most extraordinary
and
irrational hypotheses to avoid admitting the existence of the higher life
which
they so greatly fear.
Because
the easiest way for most people to arrive at a realisation of the fourth
dimension
of space is to develop within themselves the power of astral sight,
many
persons have come to suppose that the fourth dimension is an exclusive
appanage
of the astral world. A little thought will show that this cannot be so.
Fundamentally
there is only one kind of matter existing in the universe,
although
we call it physical, astral or mental according to the extent of its
subdivision
and the rapidity of its vibration. Consequently the dimensions of
space--
if they exist at all-- exist independently of the matter which lies
within
them; and whether that space has three dimensions or four or more, all
the
matter within it exists subject to those conditions, whether we are able to
appreciate
them or not.
It
may perhaps help us a little in trying to understand this matter if we
realise
that what we call space is a limitation of consciousness, and that there
is
a higher level at which a sufficiently developed consciousness is entirely
free
from this. We may invest this higher consciousness with the power of
expression
in any number of directions, and may then assume that each descent
into
a denser world of matter imposes upon it an additional limitation, and
shuts
off the perception of one of these directions. We may suppose that by the
time
the consciousness has descended as far as the mental world only five of
these
directions remain to it; that when it descends or moves outward once more
to
the astral level it loses yet one more of its powers, and so is limited to
the
conception of four dimensions; then the further descent or outward movement
which
brings it into the physical world cuts off from it the possibility of
grasping
even that fourth dimension, and so we find ourselves confined to the
three
with which we are familiar.
Looking
at it from this point of view, it is clear that the conditions of the
universe
have remained unaffected, though our power of appreciating them has
changed;
so that, although it is true that when our consciousness is functioning
through
astral matter we are able to appreciate a fourth dimension which
normally
is hidden from us while we work through the physical brain, we must not
therefore
make the mistake of thinking that the fourth dimension belongs to the
astral
world only and that physical matter exists somehow in a different kind of
space
from the astral or mental. Such a suggestion is shown to be unjustified by
the
fact that it is possible for a man using his physical brain to attain by
means
of practice the power of comprehending some of the four-dimensional forms.
I
do not wish here to take up fully the consideration of this fascinating
subject;
those who would follow it further should apply themselves to the works
of
Mr. C. H. Hinton-- Scientific Romances and The Fourth Dimension -- the former
book
for all the interesting possibilities connected with this study, and the
latter
for the means whereby the mind can realise the fourth dimension as a
fact.
For our present purposes it is necessary only to indicate that here is an
aspect
or extension of our world which, though utterly unknown to the vast
majority
of men, requires to be studied and to be taken into consideration by
those
who wish to understand the whole of life instead of only a tiny fragment
of
it.
THE
HIGHER WORLD
There
is a hidden side to our physical world in a second and higher sense which
is
well known to all students of Theosophy, for many lectures have been
delivered
and many books have been written in the endeavour to describe the
astral
and mental worlds-- the unseen realm which interpenetrates that with
which
we are all familiar, and forms by far the most important part of it. A
good
deal of information about this higher aspect of our world has been given in
the
fifth and the sixth of the Theosophical manuals, and in my own book upon The
Other
Side of Death; so here I need do no more than make a short general
statement
for the benefit of any reader who has not yet met with those works.
Modern
physicists tell us that matter is interpenetrated by aether-- a
hypothetical
substance which they endow with many apparently contradictory
qualities.
The occultist knows that there are many varieties of this finer
interpenetrative
matter, and that some of the qualities attributed to it by the
scientific
men belong not to it at all, but to the primordial substance of which
it
is the negation. I do not wish here to turn aside from the object of this
book
to give a lengthy disquisition upon the qualities of aether; those who wish
to
study this subject may be referred to the book upon Occult Chemistry , p. 93
.
Here it must suffice to say that the true aether of space exists, just as
scientific
men have supposed, and possesses most of the curious contradictory
qualities
ascribed to it. It is not, however, of that aether itself, but of
matter
built up out of the bubbles in it, that the inner worlds of finer matter
are
built, of which we have spoken just now. That with which we are concerned at
the
moment is the fact that all the matter visible to us is interpenetrated not
only
by aether, but also by various kinds of finer matter, and that of this
finer
matter there are many degrees.
To
the type which is nearest to the physical world occult students have given
the
name astral matter; the kind next above that has been called mental, because
out
of its texture is built that mechanism of consciousness which is commonly
called
the mind in man; and there are other types finer still, with which for
the
moment we are not concerned. Every portion of space with which we have to do
must
be thought of as containing all these different kinds of matter. It is
practically
a scientific postulate that even in the densest forms of matter no
two
particles ever touch one another, but each floats alone in its field of
aether,
like a sun in space. Just in the same way each particle of the physical
aether
floats in a sea of astral matter, and each astral particle in turn floats
in
a mental ocean; so that all these additional worlds need no more space than
does
this fragment which we know, for in truth they are all parts of one and the
same
world.
Man
has within himself matter of these finer grades, and by learning to focus
his
consciousness in it, instead of only in his physical brain, he may become
cognisant
of these inner and higher parts of the world, and acquire much
knowledge
of the deepest interest and value. The nature of this unseen world,
its
scenery, its inhabitants, its possibilities, are described in the works
above
mentioned. It is the existence of these higher realms of nature that makes
occultism
possible; and few indeed are the departments of life in which their
influence
has not to be considered. From the cradle to the grave we are in close
relation
with them during what we call our waking life; during sleep and after
we
are even more intimately connected with them, for our existence is then
almost
confined to them.
Perhaps
the greatest of the many fundamental changes which are inevitable for
the
man who studies the facts of life is that which is produced in his attitude
towards
death. This matter has been fully treated elsewhere; here I need state
only
that the knowledge of the truth about death robs it of all its terror and
much
of its sorrow, and enables us to see it in its true proportion and to
understand
its place in the scheme of our evolution. It is perfectly possible to
learn
to know about all these things instead of accepting beliefs blindly at
secondhand,
as most people do; and knowledge means power, security and
happiness.
THE
PURPOSE OF LIFE
The
third aspect of our world which is hidden from the majority is the plan and
purpose
of existence. Most men seem to muddle through life without any
discernible
object, except possibly the purely physical struggle to make money
or
attain power, because they vaguely think that these things will bring them
happiness.
They have no definite theory as to why they are here, nor any
certainty
as to the future that awaits them. They have not even realised that
they
are souls and not bodies, and that as such their development is part of a
mighty
scheme of cosmic evolution.
When
once this grandest of truths has dawned upon a man' s horizon there comes
over
him that change which occidental religion calls conversion-- a fine word
which
has been sadly degraded by improper associations, for it has often been
used
to signify nothing more than a crisis of emotion hypnotically induced by
the
surging waves of excited feeling radiated by a half-maddened crowd. Its true
meaning
is exactly what its derivation implies, ` a turning together with' .
Before
it, the man, unaware of the stupendous current of evolution, has, under
the
delusion of selfishness, been fighting against it; but the moment that the
magnificence
of the Divine Plan bursts upon his astonished sight there is no
other
possibility for him but to throw all his energies into the effort to
promote
its fulfilment, to ` turn and go together with' that splendid stream of
the
love and the wisdom of God.
His
one object then is to qualify himself to help the world, and all his
thoughts
and actions are directed towards that aim. He may forget for the moment
under
the stress of temptation, but the oblivion can be only temporary; and this
is
the meaning of the ecclesiastical dogma that the elect can never finally fail
.
Discrimination has come to him, the opening of the doors of the mind, to adopt
the
terms employed for this change in older faiths; he knows now what is real
and
what is unreal, what is worth gaining and what is valueless. He lives as an
immortal
soul who is a Spark of the Divine Fire, instead of as one of the beasts
that
perish-- to use a biblical phrase which, however, is entirely incorrect,
inasmuch
as the beasts do not perish, except in the sense of their being
reabsorbed
into their group-soul.
Most
truly for this man an aspect of life has been displayed which erst was
hidden
from his eyes. It would even be truer to say that now for the first time
he
has really begun to live, while before he merely dragged out an inefficient
existence.
SECOND
SECTION
HOW
WE ARE INFLUENCED
-------
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CHAPTER III
BY
PLANETS
RADIATIONS
THE
first fact which it is necessary for us to realise is that everything is
radiating
influence on its surroundings, and these surroundings are all the
while
returning the compliment by pouring influence upon it in return. Literally
everything--
sun, moon, stars, angels, men, animals, trees, rocks-- everything
is
pouring out a ceaseless stream of vibrations, each of its own characteristic
type;
not in the physical world only, but in other and subtler worlds as well.
Our
physical senses can appreciate only a limited number of such radiations. We
readily
feel the heat poured forth by the sun or by a fire, but we are usually
not
conscious of the fact that we ourselves are constantly radiating heat; yet
if
we hold out a hand towards a radiometer the delicate instrument will respond
to
the heat imparted by that hand even at a distance of several feet, and will
begin
to revolve. We say that a rose has a scent and that a daisy has none; yet
the
daisy is throwing off particles just as much as the rose, only in the one
case
they happen to be perceptible to our senses, and in the other they are not.
From
early ages men have believed that the sun, the moon, the planets and the
stars
exercised a certain influence over human life. In the present day most
people
are content to laugh at such a belief, without knowing anything about it;
yet
anyone who will take the trouble to make a careful and impartial study of
astrology
will discover much that cannot be lightly thrown aside. He will meet
with
plenty of errors, no doubt, some of them ridiculous enough; but he will
also
find a proportion of accurate results which is far too large to be
reasonably
ascribed to coincidence. His investigations will convince him that
there
is unquestionably some foundation for the claims of the astrologers, while
at
the same time he cannot but observe that their systems are as yet far from
perfect.
When
we remember the enormous space that separates us from even the nearest of
the
planets, it is at once obvious that we must reject the idea that they can
exercise
upon us any physical action worth considering; and furthermore, if
there
were any such action, it would seem that its strength should depend less
upon
the position of the planet in the sky than upon its proximity to the
earth--
a factor which is not usually taken into account by astrologers. The
more
we contemplate the matter the less does it seem rational or possible to
suppose
that the planets can affect the earth or its inhabitants to any
appreciable
extent; yet the fact remains that a theory based upon this apparent
impossibility
often works out accurately. Perhaps the explanation may be found
along
the line that just as the movement of the hands of a clock shows the
passage
of time, though it does not cause it, so the motions of the planets
indicate
the prevalence of certain influences, but are in no way responsible for
them.
Let us see what light occult study throws upon this somewhat perplexing
subject.
THE
DEITY OF THE SOLAR SYSTEM
Occult
students regard the entire solar system in all its vast complexity as a
partial
manifestation of one great living Being, and all its parts as expressing
aspects
of Him. Many names have been given to Him; in our Theosophical
literature
He has often been described under the Gnostic title of the Logos--
the
Word that was in the beginning with God, and was God; but now we usually
speak
of Him as the Solar Deity. All the physical constituents of the solar
system--
the sun with its wonderful corona, all the planets with their
satellites,
their oceans, their atmospheres and the various aethers surrounding
them--
all these are collectively His physical body, the expression of Him in
the
physical realm.
In
the same way the collective astral worlds-- not only the astral worlds
belonging
to each of the physical planets, but also the purely astral planets of
all
the chains of the system (such, for example, as planets B and F of our
chain)--
make up His astral body, and the collective worlds of the mental realm
are
His mental body-- the vehicle through which He manifests Himself upon that
particular
level. Every atom of every world is a centre through which He is
conscious,
so that not only is it true that God is omnipresent, but also that
whatever
is is God.
Thus
we see that the old pantheistic conception was quite true, yet it is only a
part
of the truth, because while all nature in all its worlds is nothing but His
garment,
yet He Himself exists outside of and above all this in a stupendous
life
of which we can know nothing-- a life among other Rulers of other systems.
Just
as all our lives are lived literally within Him and are in truth a part of
His,
so His life and that of the Solar Deities of countless other systems are a
part
of a still greater life of the Deity of the visible universe; and if there
be
in the depths of space yet other universes invisible to us, all of their
Deities
in turn must in the same way form part of One Great Consciousness which
includes
the whole.
DIFFERENT
TYPES OF MATTER
In
these ` bodies' of the Solar Deity on their various levels there are certain
different
classes or types of matter, which are fairly equally distributed over
the
whole system. I am not speaking here of our usual division of the worlds and
their
subsections-- a division which is made according to the density of the
matter,
so that in the physical world, for example, we have the solid, liquid,
gaseous,
etheric, super-etheric, sub-atomic and atomic conditions of matter--
all
of them physical, but differing in density. The types which I mean
constitute
a totally distinct series of cross-divisions, each of which contains
matter
in all its different conditions, so that if we denote the various types
by
numbers, we shall find solid, liquid and gaseous matter of the first type,
solid,
liquid and gaseous matter of the second type, and so on all the way
through.
These
types of matter are as thoroughly intermingled as are the constituents of
our
atmosphere. Conceive a room filled with air; any decided vibration
communicated
to the air, such as a sound, for example, would be perceptible in
every
part of the room. Suppose that it were possible to produce some kind of
undulation
which should affect the oxygen alone without disturbing the nitrogen,
that
undulation would still be felt in every part of the room. If we allow that,
for
a moment, the proportion of oxygen might be greater in one part of the room
than
another, then the oscillation, though perceptible everywhere, would be
strongest
in that part. Just as the air in a room is composed (principally) of
oxygen
and nitrogen, so is the matter of the solar system composed of these
different
types; and just as a wave (if there could be such a thing) which
affected
only the oxygen or only the nitrogen would nevertheless be felt in all
parts
of the room, so a movement or modification which affects only one of these
types
produces an effect throughout the entire solar system, though it may be
stronger
in one part than in another.
This
statement is true of all worlds, but for the sake of clearness let us for
the
moment confine our thought to one world only. Perhaps the idea is easiest to
follow
with regard to the astral. It has often been explained that in the astral
body
of man, matter belonging to each of the astral sub-sections is to be found,
and
that the proportion between the denser and the finer kinds shows how far
that
body is capable of responding to coarse or refined desires, and so is to
some
extent an indication of the degree to which the man has evolved himself.
Similarly
in each astral body there is matter of each of these types, and in
this
case the proportion between them will show the disposition of the man--
whether
he is devotional or philosophic, artistic or scientific, pragmatic or
mystic.
THE
LIVING CENTRES
Now
each of these types of matter in the astral body of the Solar Deity is to
some
extent a separate vehicle, and may be thought of as also the astral body of
a
subsidiary Deity or Minister, who is at the same time an aspect of the Deity
of
the system, a kind of ganglion or force-centre in Him. Indeed, if these types
differ
among themselves, it is because the matter composing them originally came
forth
through these different living Centres, and the matter of each type is
still
the special vehicle and expression of the subsidiary Deity through whom it
came,
so that the slightest thought, movement or alteration of any kind in Him
is
instantly reflected in some way or other in all the matter of the
corresponding
type. Naturally each such type of matter has its own special
affinities,
and is capable of vibrating under influences which may probably
evoke
no response from the other types.
Since
every man has within himself matter of all these types, it is obvious that
any
modification in or action of any one of these great living Centres must to
some
degree affect all beings in the system. The extent to which any particular
person
is so affected depends upon the proportion of the type of matter acted
upon
which he happens to have in his astral body. Consequently we find different
types
of men as of matter, and by reason of their constitution, by the very
composition
of their astral bodies, some of them are more susceptible to one
influence,
some to another.
The
types are seven, and astrologers have often given to them the names of
certain
of the planets. Each type is divided into seven sub-types, because each
`
planet' may be either practically uninfluenced, or it may be affected
predominantly
by any one of the other six. In addition to the forty-nine
definite
sub-types thus obtained, there are any number of possible permutations
and
combinations of influences, often so complicated that it is no easy matter
to
follow them. Nevertheless, this gives us a certain system of classification,
according
to which we can arrange not only human beings, but also the animal,
vegetable
and mineral kingdoms, and the elemental essence which precedes them in
evolution.
Everything
in the solar system belongs to one or other of these seven great
streams,
because it has come out through one or other of these great
Force-Centres,
to which therefore it belongs in essence, although it must
inevitably
be affected more or less by the others also. This gives each man,
each
animal, each plant, each mineral a certain fundamental characteristic which
never
changes-- sometimes symbolised as his note, his colour or his ray.
This
characteristic is permanent not only through one chain-period, but through
the
whole planetary scheme, so that the life which manifests through elemental
essence
of type A will in the due course of its evolution ensoul successively
minerals,
plants, and animals of type A; and when its group-soul breaks up into
units
and receives the Third Outpouring, the human beings which are the result
of
its evolution will be men of type A and no other, and under normal conditions
will
continue so all through their development until they grow into Adepts of
type
A.
In
the earlier days of Theosophical study we were under the impression that this
plan
was carried out consistently to the very end, and that these Adepts
rejoined
the Solar Deity through the same subsidiary Deity or Minister through
whom
they originally came forth. Further research shows that this thought
requires
modification. We find that bands of egos of many different types join
themselves
together for a common object.
For
example, in the investigations connected primarily with the lives of Alcyone
it
was found that certain bands of egos circled round the various Masters, and
came
closer and closer to Them as time went on. One by one, as they became fit
for
it, these egos reached the stage at which they were accepted as pupils or
apprentices
by one or other of the Masters. To become truly a pupil of a Master
means
entering into relations with Him whose intimacy is far beyond any tie of
which
we know on earth. It means a degree of union with Him which no words can
fully
express, although at the same time a pupil retains absolutely his own
individuality
and his own initiative.
In
this way each Master becomes a centre of what may be truly described as a
great
organism, since his pupils are veritably members of Him. When we realise
that
He Himself is in just the same way a Member of some still greater Master we
arrive
at a conception of a mighty. organism which is in a very real sense one,
although
built up of thousands of perfectly distinct egos.
Such
an organism is the Heavenly Man who emerges as the result of the evolution
of
each great root-race. In Him, as in an earthly man, are seven great centres,
each
of which is a mighty Adept; and the Manu and the Bodhisattva occupy in this
great
organism the place of the brain and the heart centres respectively. Round
Them--
and yet not round Them, but in Them and part of Them, although so fully
and
gloriously ourselves-- shall we, Their servants, be; and this great figure
in
its totality represents the flower of that particular race, and includes all
who
have attained Adeptship through it. Each root-race is thus represented at
its
close by one of these Heavenly Men; and They, these splendid totalities,
will,
as Their next stage in evolution, become Ministers Themselves of some
future
Solar Deity. Yet each one of these contains within Himself men of all
possible
types, so that each of these future Ministers is in truth a
representative
not of one line but of all lines.
When
looked at from a sufficiently high level the whole solar system is seen to
consist
of these great living Centres or Ministers, and the types of matter
through
which each is expressing Himself. Let me repeat here for the sake of
clearness,
what I wrote some time ago on this subject in The Inner Life, vol. i,
page
217:
Each
of these great living Centres has a sort of orderly periodic change or
motion
of his own, corresponding perhaps on some infinitely higher level to the
regular
beating of the human heart, or to the inspiration and expiration of the
breath.
Some of these periodic changes are more rapid than others, so that a
complicated
series of effects is produced; and it has been observed that the
movements
of the physical planets in their relation to one another furnish a
clue
to the operation of these influences at any given moment. Each of these
Centres
has His special location or major focus within the body of the sun, and
a
minor exterior focus which is always marked by the position of a planet.
The
exact relation can hardly be made clear in our three-dimensional
phraseology;
but we may perhaps put it that each Centre has a field of influence
practically
co-extensive with a solar system; that if a section of this field
could
be taken it would be found to be elliptical; and that one of the foci of
each
ellipse would always be the sun, and the other would be the special planet
ruled
by that Minister. It is probable that, in the gradual condensation of the
original
glowing nebula from which the system was formed, the location of the
planets
was determined by the formation of vortices at these minor foci, they
being
auxiliary points of distribution of these influences-- ganglia, as it
were,
in the solar system.
It
must of course be understood that we are referring here not to the curious
astrological
theory which considers the sun himself as a planet, but to the real
planets
which revolve round him.
THEIR
INFLUENCE
The
influences belonging to these great types differ widely in quality, and one
way
in which this difference shows itself is in their action upon the living
elemental
essence both in man and around him. Be it ever remembered that this
dominance
is exerted in all worlds, not only in the astral, though we are just
now
confining ourselves to that for simplicity' s sake. These mysterious
agencies
may have, and indeed must have, other and more important lines of
action
not at present known to us; but this at least forces itself upon the
notice
of the observer, that each Centre produces its own special effect upon
the
manifold varieties of elemental essence.
One,
for example, will be found greatly to stimulate the activity and the
vitality
of those kinds of essence which specially appertain to the Centre
through
which it comes, while apparently checking and controlling others; the
sway
of another type will be seen to be strong over a quite different set of
essences
which belong to its Centre, while apparently not affecting the previous
set
in the least. There are all sorts of combinations and permutations of these
mystic
powers, the action of one of them being in some cases greatly intensified
and
in others almost neutralised by the presence of another.
Since
this elemental essence is vividly active in the astral and mental bodies
of
man, it is clear that any unusual excitation of any of these classes of that
essence--
any sudden increase in its activity-- must undoubtedly affect to some
extent
either his emotions or his mind, or both; and it is also obvious that
these
forces would work differently on different men, because of the varieties
of
essence entering into their composition.
These
influences neither exist nor are exercised for the sake of the man or with
any
reference to him, any more than the wind exists for the sake of the vessel
which
is helped or hindered by it; they are part of the play of cosmic forces of
whose
object we know nothing, though we may to some extent learn how to
calculate
upon them and to use them. Such energies in themselves are no more
good
nor evil than any other of the powers of nature: like electricity or any
other
great natural force they may be helpful or hurtful to us, according to the
use
that we make of them. Just as certain experiments are more likely to be
successful
if undertaken when the air is heavily charged with electricity, while
certain
others under such conditions will most probably fail, so an effort
involving
the use of the powers of our mental and emotional nature will more or
less
readily achieve its object according to the influences which predominate
when
it is made.
It
is of the utmost importance for us to understand that such pressure cannot
dominate
man' s will in the slightest degree; all it can do is in some cases to
make
it easier or more difficult for that will to act along certain lines. In no
case
can a man be swept away by it into any course of action without his own
consent,
though he may evidently be helped or hindered by it in any effort that
he
chances to be making. The really strong man has little need to trouble
himself
as to the agencies which happen to be in the ascendant, but for men of
weaker
will it may sometimes be worth while to know at what moment this or that
force
can most advantageously be applied. These factors may be put aside as a
negligible
quantity by the man of iron determination or by the student of true
occultism;
but since most men still allow themselves to be the helpless sport of
the
forces of desire, and have not yet developed anything worth calling a will
of
their own, their feebleness permits these influences to assume an importance
in
human life to which they have intrinsically no claim.
For
example, a certain variety of pressure may occasionally bring about a
condition
of affairs in which all forms of nervous excitement are considerably
intensified,
and there is consequently a general sense of irritability abroad.
That
condition cannot cause a quarrel between sensible people; but under such
circumstances
disputes arise far more readily than usual, even on the most
trifling
pretexts, and the large number of people who seem to be always on the
verge
of losing their tempers are likely to relinquish all control of themselves
on
even less than ordinary provocation. It may sometimes happen that such
influences,
playing on the smouldering discontent of ignorant jealousy, may fan
it
into an outburst of popular frenzy from which wide-spread disaster may ensue.
Even
in such a case as this we must guard ourselves against the fatal mistake of
supposing
the influence to be evil because man' s passions turn it to evil
effect.
The force itself is simply a wave of activity sent forth from one of the
Centres
of the Deity, and is in itself of the nature of an intensification of
certain
vibrations-- necessary perhaps to produce some far-reaching cosmic
effect.
The increased activity produced incidentally by its means in the astral
body
of a man offers him an opportunity of testing his power to manage his
vehicles;
and whether he succeeds or fails in this, it is still one of the
lessons
which help in his evolution. Karma may throw a man into certain
surroundings
or bring him under certain influences, but it can never force him
to
commit a crime, though it may so place him that it requires great
determination
on his part to avoid that crime. It is possible, therefore, for an
astrologer
to warn a man of the circumstances under which at a given time be
will
find himself, but any definite prophecy as to his action under those
circumstances
can only be based upon probabilities-- though we may readily
recognise
how nearly such prophecies become certainties in the case of the
ordinary
will-less man. From the extraordinary mixture of success and failure
which
characterise modern astrological predictions, it seems fairly certain that
the
practitioners, of this art are not fully acquainted with all the necessary
factors.
In a case into which only those factors enter which are already fairly
well
understood, success is achieved; but in cases where unrecognised factors
come
into play we have naturally more or less complete failure as the result.
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CHAPTER IV
BY
THE SUN
THE
HEAT OF THE SUN
THOSE
who are interested in astronomy will find the occult side of that science
one
of the most fascinating studies within our reach. Obviously it would be at
once
too recondite and too technical for inclusion in such a book as this, which
is
concerned more immediately with such of the unseen phenomena as affect us
practically
in our daily life; but the connection of the sun with that life is
so
intimate that it is necessary that a few words should be said about him.
The
whole solar system is truly the garment of its Deity, but the sun is His
veritable
epiphany-- the nearest that we can come in the physical realm to a
manifestation
of Him, the lens through which His power shines forth upon us.
Regarded
purely from the physical point of view, the sun is a vast mass of
glowing
matter at almost inconceivably high temperatures, and in a condition of
electrification
so intense as to be altogether beyond our experience.
Astronomers,
supposing his heat to be due merely to contraction, used to
calculate
how long he must have existed in the past, and how long it would be
possible
for him to maintain it in the future; and they found themselves unable
to
allow more than a few hundred thousand years either way, while the geologists
on
the other hand claim that on this earth alone we have evidence of processes
extending
over millions of years. The discovery of radium has upset the older
theories,
but even with its aid they have not yet risen to the simplicity of the
real
explanation of the difficulty.
One
can imagine some intelligent microbe living in or upon a human body and
arguing
about its temperature in precisely the same way. He might say that it
must
of course be a gradually cooling body, and he might calculate with
exactitude
that in so many hours or minutes it must reach a temperature that
would
render continued existence impossible for him. If he lived long enough,
however,
he would find that the human body did not cool, as according to his
theories
it should do, and no doubt this would seem to him very mysterious,
unless
and until he discovered that he was dealing not with a dying fire but
with
a living being, and that as long as the life remained the temperature would
not
sink. In exactly the same way if we realise that the sun is the physical
manifestation
of the Solar Deity, we shall see that the mighty life behind it
will
assuredly keep up its temperature, as long as may be necessary for the full
evolution
of the system.
THE
WILLOW-LEAVES
A
similar explanation offers us a solution of some of the other problems of
solar
physics. For example, the phenomena called from their shape the `
willow-leaves'
or ` rice-grains,' of which the photosphere of the sun is
practically
composed, have often puzzled exoteric students by the apparently
irreconcilable
characteristics which they present. From their position they can
be
nothing else than masses of glowing gas at an exceedingly high temperature,
and
therefore of great tenuity; yet though they must be far lighter than any
terrestrial
cloud, they never fail to maintain their peculiar shape, however
wildly
they may be tossed about in the very midst of storms of power so
tremendous
that they would instantly destroy the earth itself.
When
we realise that behind each of these strange objects there is a splendid
Life--
that each may be considered as the physical body of a great Angel-- we
comprehend
that it is that Life which holds them together and gives them their
wonderful
stability. To apply to them the term physical body may perhaps mislead
us,
because for us the life in the physical seems of so much importance and
occupies
so prominent a position in the present stage of our evolution. Madame
Blavatsky
has told us that we cannot truly describe them as solar inhabitants,
since
the Solar Beings will hardly place themselves in telescopic focus, but
that
they are the reservoirs of solar vital energy, themselves partaking of the
life
which they pour forth.
Let
us say rather that the willow-leaves are manifestations upon the physical
level
maintained by the solar Angels for a special purpose, at the cost of a
certain
sacrifice or limitation of their activities on the higher levels which
are
their normal habitat. Remembering that it is through these willow-leaves
that
the light, heat and vitality of the sun come to us, we may readily see that
the
object of this sacrifice is to bring down to the physical level certain
forces
which would otherwise remain unmanifested, and that these great Angels
are
acting as channels, as reflectors, as specialisers of divine power-- that
they
are in fact doing at cosmic levels and for a solar system what, if we are
wise
enough to use our privileges, we ourselves may do on a microscopical scale
in
our own little circle, as will be seen in a later chapter.
VITALITY
We
all know the feeling of cheerfulness and well-being which sunlight brings to
us,
but only students of occultism are fully aware of the reasons for that
sensation.
Just as the sun floods his system with light and heat, so does he
perpetually
pour out into it another force as yet unsuspected by modern
science--
a force to which has been given the name ` vitality' . This is
radiated
on all levels, and manifests itself in each realm-- physical,
emotional,
mental and the rest-- but we are specially concerned for the moment
with
its appearance in the lowest, where it enters some of the physical atoms,
immensely
increases their activity, and makes them animated and glowing.
We
must not confuse this force with electricity, though it in some ways
resembles
it. The Deity sends forth from Himself three great forms of energy;
there
may be hundreds more of which we know nothing; but at least there are
three.
Each of them has its appropriate manifestation at every level which our
students
have yet reached; but for the moment let us think of them as they show
themselves
in the physical world. One of them exhibits itself as electricity,
another
as vitality, and the third as the serpent-fire, of which I have already
written
in The Inner Life.
These
three remain distinct, and none of them can at this level be converted
into
either of the others. They have no connection with any of the Three Great
Outpourings;
all of those are definite efforts made by the Solar Deity, while
these
seem rather to be results of His life-- His qualities in manifestation
without
any visible effort. Electricity while it is rushing through the atoms,
deflects
them and holds them in a certain way-- this effect being in addition to
and
quite apart from the special rate of vibration which it also imparts to
them.
But
the action of vitality differs in many ways from that of electricity, light
or
heat. Any of the variants of this latter force cause oscillation of the atom
as
a whole-- an oscillation the size of which is enormous as compared with that
of
the atom; but this other force which we call vitality comes to the atom not
from
without, but from within.
THE
VITALITY GLOBULE
The
atom is itself nothing but the manifestation of a force; the Solar Deity
wills
a certain shape which we call an ultimate physical atom, and by that
effort
of His will some fourteen thousand million bubbles are held in that
particular
form. It is necessary to emphasise the fact that the cohesion of the
bubbles
in that form is entirely dependent upon that effort of will, so that if
that
were for a single instant withdrawn, the bubbles must fall apart again, and
the
whole physical realm would simply cease to exist in far less than the period
of
a flash of lightning. So true is it that the whole world is nothing but
illusion,
even from this point of view, to say nothing of the fact that the
bubbles
of which the atom is built are themselves only holes in koilon, the true
aether
of space.
So
it is the will-force of the Solar Deity continually exercised which holds the
atom
together as such; and when we try to examine the action of that force we
see
that it does not come into the atom from outside, but wells up within it--
which
means that it enters it from higher dimensions. The same is true with
regard
to this other force which we call vitality; it enters the atom from
within,
along with the force that holds that atom together, instead of acting
upon
it entirely from without, as do those other varieties of force which we
call
light, heat or electricity.
When
vitality wells up thus within the atom it endows it with an additional
life,
and gives it a power of attraction, so that it immediately draws round it
six
other atoms, which it arranges in a definite form, this making what has been
called
in Occult Chemistry a hyper-meta-proto-element. But this element differs
from
all others which have so far been observed, in that the force which creates
it
and holds it together comes from the second Aspect of the Solar Deity instead
of
from the third This vitality-globule is drawn upon page 45 of Occult
Chemistry,
where it stands first at the left hand of the top line in the
diagram.
It is the little group which makes the exceedingly brilliant bead upon
the
male or positive snake in the chemical element oxygen, and it is also the
heart
of the central globe in radium.
These
globules are conspicuous above all others which may be seen floating in
the
atmosphere, on account of their brilliance and extreme activity-- the
intensely
vivid life which they show. These are probably the fiery lives so
often
mentioned by Madame Blavatsky, though she appears to employ that term in
two
senses. In The Secret Doctrine, vol. ii, 709, it seems to mean the globule
as
a whole, in vol. i, 283, it probably means the original
additionally-vitalised
atoms, each of which draws round itself six others.
While
the force that vivifies the globules is quite different from light, it
nevertheless
appears to depend upon light for its power of manifestation. In
brilliant
sunshine this vitality is constantly welling up afresh, and the
globules
are generated with great rapidity and in incredible numbers; but in
cloudy
weather there is a great diminution in the number of globules formed, and
during
the night the operation appears to be entirely suspended. During the
night,
therefore, we may be said to be living upon the stock manufactured during
the
previous day, and though it appears practically impossible that it should
ever
be entirely exhausted, that stock evidently does run low when there is a
long
succession of cloudy days. The globule, once charged, remains as a
sub-atomic
element, and does not appear to be subject to any change or loss of
force
unless and until it is absorbed by some living creature.
THE
ABSORPTION OF VITALITY
This
vitality is absorbed by all living organisms, and a sufficient supply of it
seems
to be a necessity of their existence. In the case of men and the higher
animals
it is absorbed through the centre or vortex in the etheric double which
corresponds
with the spleen. It will be remembered that that centre has six
petals,
made by the undulatory movement of the forces which cause the vortex.
But
this undulatory movement is itself caused by the radiation of other forces
from
the centre of that vortex. Imaging the central point of the vortex as the
hub
of a wheel, we may think of these last-mentioned forces as represented by
spokes
radiating from it in straight lines. Then the vortical forces, sweeping
round
and round, pass alternately under and over these spokes as though they
were
weaving a kind of etheric basket-work, and in this way is obtained the
appearance
of six petals separated by depressions.
When
the unit of vitality is flashing about in the atmosphere, brilliant as it
is,
it is almost colourless, and may be compared to white light. But as soon as
it
is drawn into the vortex of the force-centre at the spleen it is decomposed
and
breaks up into streams of different colours, though it does not follow
exactly
our division of the spectrum. As its component atoms are whirled round
the
vortex, each of the six spokes seizes upon one of them, so that all the
atoms
charged with yellow rush along one, and all those charged with green along
another,
and so on, while the seventh disappears through the centre of the
vortex--
through the hub of the wheel, as it were. Those rays then rush off in
different
directions, each to do its special work in the vitalisation of the
body.
As I have said, however, the divisions are not exactly those which we
ordinarily
use in the solar spectrum, but rather resemble the arrangement of
colours
which we see on higher levels in the causal, mental and astral bodies.
For
example, what we call indigo is divided between the violet ray and the blue
ray,
so that we find only two divisions there instead of three; but on the other
hand
what we call red is divided into two-- rose red and dark red. The six
radiants
are therefore violet, blue, green, yellow, orange, and dark red; while
the
seventh or rose red atom (more properly the first, since this is the
original
atom in which the force first appeared) passes down through the centre
of
the vortex. Vitality is thus clearly sevenfold in its constitution, but it
rushes
through the body in five main streams, as has been described in some of
the
Indian books,¹ (¹ “To them spoke the principal life: Be not lost in delusion
I
even, fivefold dividing myself, uphold this body by my support.” --
Prashnopanishad
. ii, 3. “From this proceed these seven flames.” -- Ibid ., iii,
5.)
for after issuing from splenic centre the blue and the violet join into one
ray,
and so do the orange and the dark red.
(1)
The violet-blue ray flashes upwards to the throat, where it seems to divide
itself,
the light blue remaining to course through and vivify the throat-centre,
while
the dark blue and violet pass on into the brain. The dark blue expends
itself
in the lower and central parts of the brain, while the violet floods the
upper
part and appears to give special vigour to the force-centre at the top of
the
head, diffusing itself chiefly through the nine hundred and sixty petals of
the
outer part of that centre.
(2)
The yellow ray is directed to the heart, but after doing its work there,
part
of it also passes on to the brain and permeates it, directing itself
principally
to the twelve-petalled flower in the midst of the highest
force-centre.
(3)
The green ray floods the abdomen and, while centring especially in the solar
plexus,
evidently vivifies the liver, kidneys and intestines, and the digestive
apparatus
generally.
(4)
The rose-coloured ray runs all over the body along the nerves, and is
clearly
the life of the nervous system. This is what is commonly described as
vitality--
the specialised vitality which one man may readily pour into another
in
whom it is deficient. If the nerves are not fully supplied with this rosy
light
they become sensitive and intensely irritable, so that the patient finds
it
almost impossible to remain in one position, and yet gains but little ease
when
he moves to another. The least noise or touch is agony to him, and he is in
a
condition of acute misery. The flooding of his nerves with specialised
vitality
by some healthy person brings instant relief, and a feeling of healing
and
peace descends upon him. A man in robust health usually absorbs and
specialises
so much more vitality than is actually needed by his own body that
he
is constantly radiating a torrent of rose-coloured atoms, and so
unconsciously
pours strength upon his weaker fellows without losing anything
himself;
or by an effort of his will he can gather together this superfluous
energy
and aim it intentionally at one whom he wishes to help.
The
physical body has a certain blind, instinctive consciousness of its own,
corresponding
in the physical world to the desire-elemental of the astral body;
and
this consciousness seeks always to protect it from danger, or to procure for
it
whatever may be necessary. This is entirely apart from the consciousness of
the
man himself, and it works equally well during the absence of the ego from
the
physical body during sleep. All our instinctive movements are due to it, and
it
is through its activity that the working of the sympathetic system is carried
on
ceaselessly without any thought or knowledge on our part.
While
we are what we call awake, this physical elemental is perpetually occupied
in
self-defence; he is in a condition of constant vigilance, and he keeps the
nerves
and muscles always tense. During the night or at any time when we sleep
he
lets the nerves and muscles relax, and devotes himself specially to the
assimilation
of vitality, and the recuperation of the physical body. He works at
this
most successfully during the early part of the night, because then there is
plenty
of vitality, whereas immediately before the dawn the vitality which has
been
left behind by the sunlight is almost completely exhausted. This is the
reason
for the feeling of limpness and deadness associated with the small hours
of
the morning; this is also the reason why sick men so frequently die at that
particular
time. The same idea is embodied in the old proverb that: “An hour' s
sleep
before
elemental
accounts for the strong recuperative influence of sleep, which is
often
observable even when it is a mere momentary nap.
This
vitality is indeed the food of the etheric double, and is just as necessary
to
it as is sustenance to the grosser part of the physical body. Hence when the
body
is unable for any reason (as through sickness, fatigue or extreme old age)
to
prepare vitality for the nourishment of its cells, this physical elemental
endeavours
to draw in for his own use vitality which has already been prepared
in
the bodies of others; and thus it happens that we often find ourselves weak
and
exhausted after sitting for a while with a person who is depleted of
vitality,
because he has drawn away from us by suction the rose-coloured atoms
before
we were able to extract their energy.
The
vegetable kingdom also absorbs this vitality, but seems in most cases to use
only
a small part of it. Many trees draw from it almost exactly the same
constituents
as does the higher part of man' s etheric body, the result being
that
when they have used what they require, the atoms which they reject are
precisely
those charged with the rose-coloured light which is needed for the
cells
of man' s physical body. This is specially the case with such trees as the
pine
and the eucalyptus; and consequently the very neighbourhood of these trees
gives
health and strength to those who are suffering from lack of this part of
the
vital principle-- those whom we call nervous people. They are nervous
because
the cells of their bodies are hungry, and the nervousness can only be
allayed
by feeding them; and often the readiest way to do that is thus to supply
them
from without with the special kind of vitality which they need.
(5)
The orange-red ray flows to the base of the spine and thence to the
generative
organs, with which one part of its functions is closely connected.
This
ray appears to include not only the orange and the darker reds, but also a
certain
amount of dark purple, as though the spectrum bent round in a circle and
the
colours began over again at a lower octave. In the normal man this ray
energises
the desires of the flesh, and also seems to enter the blood and keep
up
the heat of the body; but if a man persistently refuses to yield to his lower
nature,
this ray can by long and determined effort be deflected upwards to the
brain,
where all three of its constituents undergo a remarkable modification.
The
orange is raised into pure yellow, and produces a decided intensification of
the
powers of the intellect; the dark red becomes crimson, and greatly increases
the
power of unselfish affection; while the dark purple is transmuted into a
lovely
pale violet, and quickens the spiritual part of man' s nature. The man
who
achieves this transmutation will find that sensual desires no longer trouble
him,
and when it becomes necessary for him to arouse the serpent-fire, he will
be
free from the most serious of the dangers of that process. When a man has
finally
completed this change, this orange-red ray passes straight into the
centre
at the base of the spine, and from that runs upwards along the hollow of
the
vertebral column, and so to the brain.
VITALITY
AND HEALTH
The
flow of vitality in these various currents regulates the health of the parts
of
the body with which they are concerned. If, for example, a person is
suffering
from a weak digestion, it manifests itself at once to any person
possessing
etheric sight, because either the flow and action of the green stream
is
sluggish or its amount is smaller in proportion than it should be. Where the
yellow
current is full and strong, it indicates, or more properly produces,
strength
and regularity in the action of the heart. Flowing round that centre,
it
also interpenetrates the blood which is driven through it, and is sent along
with
it all over the body. Yet there is enough of it left to extend into the
brain
also, and the power of high philosophical and metaphysical thought appears
to
depend to a great extent upon the volume and activity of this yellow stream,
and
the corresponding awakening of the twelve-petalled flower in the middle of
the
force-centre at the top of the head.
Thought
and emotion of a high spiritual type seem to depend largely upon the
violet
ray, whereas the power of ordinary thought is stimulated by the action of
the
blue mingled with part of the yellow. It has been observed that in some
forms
of idiocy the flow of vitality to the brain, both yellow and blue-violet,
is
almost entirely inhibited. Unusual activity or volume in the light blue which
is
apportioned to the throat-centre is accompanied by the health and strength of
the
physical organs in that part of the body. It gives, for example, strength
and
elasticity to the vocal chords, so that special brilliance and activity are
noticeable
in the case of a public speaker or a great singer. Weakness or
disease
in any part of the body is accompanied by a deficiency in the flow of
vitality
to that part.
As
the different streams of atoms do their work, the charge of vitality is
withdrawn
from them, precisely as an electrical charge might be. The atoms
bearing
the rose-coloured ray grow gradually paler as they are swept along the
nerves,
and are eventually thrown out from the body through the pores-- making
thus
what was called in Man Visible and Invisible the health-aura. By the time
that
they leave the body most of them have lost the rose-coloured light, so that
the
general appearance of the emanation is bluish-white. That part of the yellow
ray
which is absorbed into the blood and carried round with it loses its
distinctive
colour in just the same way.
The
atoms, when thus emptied of their charge of vitality, either enter into some
of
the combinations which are constantly being made in the body, or pass out of
it
through the pores, or through the ordinary channels. The emptied atoms of the
green
ray, which is connected chiefly with digestive processes, seem to form
part
of the ordinary waste material of the body, and to pass out along with it,
and
that is also the fate of the atoms of the red-orange ray in the case of the
ordinary
man. The atoms belonging to the blue rays, which are used in connection
with
the throat-centre, generally leave the body in the exhalations of the
breath;
and those which compose the dark blue and violet rays usually pass out
from
the centre at the top of the head.
When
the student has learnt to deflect the orange-red rays so that they also
move
up through the spine, the empty atoms of both these and the violet-blue
rays
pour out from the top of the head in a fiery cascade, which is frequently
imaged
as a flame in ancient statues of the BUDDHA and other great Saints. When
empty
of the vital force the atoms are once more precisely like any other atoms;
the
body absorbs such of them as it needs, so that they form part of the various
combinations
which are constantly being made, while others which are not
required
for such purposes are cast out through any channel that happens to be
convenient.
The
flow of vitality into or through any centre, or even its intensification,
must
not be confused with the entirely different development of the centre which
is
brought about by the awakening of the serpent-fire at a later stage in man' s
evolution.
We all of us draw in vitality and specialise it, but many of us do
not
utilise it to the full, because in various ways our lives are not as pure
and
healthy and reasonable as they should be. One who coarsens his body by the
use
of meat, alcohol or tobacco can never employ his vitality to the full in the
same
way as can a man of purer living. A particular individual of impure life
may
be, and often is stronger in the physical body than certain other men who
are
purer; that is a matter of their respective karma; but other things being
equal,
the man of pure life has an immense advantage.
VITALITY
NOT MAGNETISM
The
vitality coursing along the nerves must not be confused with what we usually
call
the magnetism of the man-- his own nerve-fluid, generated within himself.
It
is this fluid which keeps up the constant circulation of etheric matter along
the
nerves, corresponding to the circulation of blood through the veins; and as
oxygen
is conveyed by the blood to all parts of the body, so vitality is
conveyed
along the nerves by this etheric current. The particles of the etheric
part
of man' s body are constantly changing, just as are those of the denser
part;
along with the food which we eat and the air which we breathe we take in
etheric
matter, and this is assimilated by the etheric part of the body. Etheric
matter
is constantly being thrown off from the pores, just as is gaseous matter,
so
that when two persons are close together each necessarily absorbs much of the
physical
emanations of the other.
When
one person mesmerises another, the operator by an effort of will gathers
together
a great deal of this magnetism and throws it into the subject, pushing
back
his victim' s nerve-fluid, and filling its place with his own. As the brain
is
the centre of this nervous circulation, this brings that part of the subject'
s
body which is affected under the control of the manipulator' s brain instead
of
the victim' s, and so the latter feels what the mesmerist wishes him to feel.
If
the recipient' s brain be emptied of his own magnetism and filled with that
of
the performer, the former can think and act only as the latter wills that he
should
think and act; he is for the time entirely dominated.
Even
when the magnetiser is trying to cure, and is pouring strength into the
man,
he inevitably gives along with the vitality much of his own emanations. It
is
obvious that any disease which the mesmeriser happens to have may readily he
conveyed
to the subject in this way; and another even more important
consideration
is that, though his health may be perfect from the medical point
of
view, there are mental and moral diseases as well as physical, and that, as
astral
and mental matter are thrown into the subject by the mesmerist along with
the
physical current, these also are frequently transferred.
Vitality,
like light and heat, is pouring forth from the sun continually, but
obstacles
frequently arise to prevent the full supply from reaching the earth.
In
the wintry and melancholy climes miscalled the temperate, it too often
happens
that for days together the sky is covered by a funeral pall of heavy
cloud,
and this affects vitality just as it does light; it does not altogether
hinder
its passage, but sensibly diminishes its amount. Therefore in dull and
dark
weather vitality runs low, and over all living creatures there comes an
instinctive
yearning for sunlight.
When
vitalised atoms are thus more sparsely scattered, the man in rude health
increases
his power of absorption, depletes a larger area, and so keeps his
strength
at the normal level; but invalids and men of small nerve-force, who
cannot
do this, often suffer severely, and find themselves growing weaker and
more
irritable without knowing why. For similar reasons vitality is at a lower
ebb
in the winter than in the summer, for even if the short winter day be sunny,
which
is rare, we have still to face the long and dreary winter night, during
which
we must exist upon such vitality as the day has stored in our atmosphere.
On
the other hand the long summer day, when bright and cloudless, charges the
atmosphere
so thoroughly with vitality that its short night makes but little
difference.
From
the study of this question of vitality, the occultist cannot fail to
recognise
that, quite apart from temperature, sunlight is one of the most
important
factors in the attainment and preservation of perfect health-- a
factor
for the absence of which nothing else can entirely compensate. Since this
vitality
is poured forth not only upon the physical world but upon all others as
well,
it is evident that, when in other respects satisfactory conditions are
present,
emotion, intellect and spirituality will be at their best under clear
skies
and with the inestimable aid of the sunlight.
All
the colours of this order of vitality are etheric, yet it will be seen that
their
action presents certain correspondences with the signification attached to
similar
hues in the astral body. Clearly right thought and right feeling react
upon
the physical body, and increase its power to assimilate the vitality which
is
necessary for its well-being. It is reported that the Lord BUDDHA once said
that
the first step on the road to Nirvana is perfect physical health; and
assuredly
the way to attain that is to follow the Noble Eightfold Path which He
has
indicated. “Seek ye first the Kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all
these
things shall be added unto you”-- yes, even physical health as well.
-------Cardiff Theosophical Society in Wales-------
206 Newport Road, Cardiff, Wales, UK. CF24-1DL
http://www.theosophywales.org.uk http://www.theosophycardiff.org
CHAPTER V
BY
NATURAL SURROUNDINGS
THE
WEATHER
THE
vagaries of the weather are proverbial, and though observation and study of
its
phenomena enable us to venture upon certain limited predictions, the
ultimate
cause of most of the changes still escapes us, and will continue to do
so
until we realise that there are considerations to be taken into account
besides
the action of heat and cold, of radiation and condensation. The earth
itself
is living; this ball of matter is being used as a physical body by a vast
entity--
not an Adept or an angel, not a highly developed being at all, but
rather
something which may be imagined as a kind of gigantic nature-spirit, for
whom
the existence of our earth is one incarnation. His previous incarnation was
naturally
in the moon since that was the fourth planet of the last chain, and
equally
naturally his next incarnation will be in the fourth planet of the chain
that
will succeed ours when the evolution of our terrestrial chain is completed.
Of
his nature or the character of his evolution we can know but little, nor does
it
in any way concern us, for we are to him but as tiny microbes or parasites
upon
his body, and in all probability he is unaware even of our existence, for
nothing
that we can do can be on a scale large enough to affect him.
For
him the atmosphere surrounding the earth must be as a kind of aura, or
perhaps
rather corresponding to the film of etheric matter which projects ever
so
slightly beyond the outline of man' s dense physical body; and just as any
alteration
or disturbance in the man affects this film of aether, so must any
change
of condition in this spirit of the earth affect the atmosphere. Some such
changes
must be periodic and regular, like the motions produced in us by
breathing,
by the action of the heart or by an even movement, such as walking;
others
must be irregular and occasional, as would be the changes produced in a
man
by a sudden start, or by an outburst of emotion.
We
know that violent emotion, astral in its origin though it be, produces
chemical
changes and variations of temperature in the human physical body;
whatever
corresponds to such emotion in the spirit of the earth may well cause
chemical
changes in his physical body also, and variations of temperature in its
immediate
surroundings. Now variations of temperature in the atmosphere mean
wind;
sudden and violent variations mean storm; and chemical changes beneath the
surface
of the earth not infrequently cause earthquakes and volcanic eruptions.
No
student of occultism will fall into the common error of regarding as evil
such
outbursts as storms or eruptions, because they sometimes destroy human
life;
for he will recognise that, whatever the immediate cause may be, all that
happens
is part of the working of the great immutable law of justice, and that
He
who doeth all things most certainly doeth all things well. This aspect of
natural
phenomena, however, will be considered in a later chapter.
It
cannot be questioned that men are much and variously affected by the weather.
There
is a general consensus of opinion that gloomy weather is depressing; but
this
is mainly due to the fact that in the absence of sunlight there is, as has
already
been explained, a lack of vitality. Some people, however, take an actual
delight
in rain or snow or high wind. There is in these disturbances something
which
produces a distinct pleasurable sensation which quickens their vibrations
and
harmonises with the key-note of their nature. It is probable that this is
not
entirely or even chiefly due to the physical disturbance; it is rather that
the
subtle change in the aura of the spirit of the earth (which produces or
coincides
with this phenomenon) is one with which their spirits are in sympathy.
A
still more decided instance of this is the effect of a thunder-storm. There
are
many people in whom it produces a curious sense of overwhelming fear
entirely
out of proportion to any physical danger that it can be supposed to
bring.
In others, on the contrary, the electrical storm produces wild
exultation.
The influence of electricity on the physical nerves no doubt plays a
part
in producing these unusual sensations, but their true cause lies deeper
than
that.
The
effect produced upon people by these various manifestations depends upon the
preponderance
in their temperament of certain types of elemental essence which,
because
of this sympathetic vibration, used to be called by mediaeval enquirers
earthy,
watery, airy or fiery. Exactly in the same way the effect of the various
sections
of our surroundings will be greater or less upon men according as they
have
more or less of one or other of these constituents in their composition. To
the
man who responds most readily to earth influences, the nature of the soil
upon
which his house is built is of primary importance, but it matters
comparatively
little to him whether it is or is not in the neighbourhood of
water;
whereas the man who responds most readily to the radiations of water
would
care little about the soil so long as he had the ocean or a lake within
sight
and within easy reach.
ROCKS
Influence
is perpetually radiated upon us by all objects of nature, even by the
very
earth upon which we tread. Each type of rock or soil has its own special
variety,
and the differences between them are great, so that their effect is by
no
means to be neglected. In the production of this effect three factors bear
their
part-- the life of the rock itself, the kind of elemental essence
appropriate
to its astral counterpart, and the kind of nature-spirits which it
attracts.
The life of the rock is simply the life of the Second Great Outpouring
which
has arrived at the stage of ensouling the mineral kingdom, and the
elemental
essence is a later wave of that same divine Life which is one
chain-period
behind the other, and has yet in its descent into matter reached
only
the astral world. The nature-spirit belong to a different evolution
altogether,
to which we shall refer in due course.
The
point for us to bear in mind for the moment is that each kind of soil--
granite
or sandstone, chalk, clay or lava, has its definite influence upon those
who
live on it-- an influence which never ceases. Night and day, summer and
winter,
year in and year out, this steady pressure is being exercised, and it
has
its part in the moulding of races and districts, types as well as
individuals.
All these matters are as yet but little comprehended by ordinary
science,
but there can be no doubt that in time to come these effects will be
thoroughly
studied, and the doctors of the future will take them into account,
and
prescribe a change of soil as well as of air for their patients.
An
entirely new and distinct set of agencies is brought into play wherever water
exists,
whether it be in the form of lake, river or sea-- powerful in different
ways
in all of them truly, but most powerful and observable in the last. Here
also
the same three factors have to be considered-- the life of the water
itself,
the elemental essence pervading it, and the type of nature-spirits
associated
with it.
TREES
Strong
influences are radiated by the vegetable kingdom also, and the different
kinds
of plants and trees vary greatly in their effect. Those who have not
specially
studied the subject invariably under-rate the strength, capacity and
intelligence
shown in vegetable life. I have already written upon this in The
Christian
Creed, p. 51 (2nd edition), so I will not repeat myself here, but will
rather
draw attention to the fact that trees-- especially old trees-- have a
strong
and definite individuality, well worthy the name of a soul. This soul,
though
temporary, in the sense that it is not yet a reincarnating entity, is
nevertheless
possessed of considerable power and intelligence along its own
lines.
It
has decided likes and dislikes, and to clairvoyant sight it shows quite
clearly
by a vivid rosy flush an emphatic enjoyment of the sunlight and the
rain,
and distinct pleasure also in the presence of those whom it has learnt to
like,
or with whom it has sympathetic vibrations. Emerson appears to have
realised
this, for he is quoted in Hutton' s Reminiscences as saying of his
trees:
“I am sure they miss me; they seem to droop when I go away, and I know
they
brighten and bloom when I go back to them and shake hands with their lower
branches.”
An
old forest tree is a high development of vegetable life, and when it is
transferred
from that kingdom it does not pass into the lowest form of animal
life.
In some cases its individuality is even sufficiently distinct to allow it
to
manifest itself temporarily outside its physical form, and when that is so it
often
takes the human shape. Matters may be otherwise arranged in other solar
systems
for aught we know, but in ours the Deity has chosen the human form to
enshrine
the highest intelligence, to be carried on to the utmost perfection as
His
scheme develops: and because that is so, there is always a tendency among
lower
kinds of life to reach upwards towards that form, and in their primitive
way
to imagine themselves as possessing it.
Thus
it happens that such creatures as gnomes or elves, whose bodies are of
fluidic
nature, of astral or etheric matter which is plastic under the influence
of
the will, habitually adopts some approximation to the appearance of humanity.
Thus
also when it is possible for the soul of a tree to externalise itself and
become
visible, it is almost always in human shape that it is seen. Doubtless
these
were the dryads of classical times; and the occasional appearance of such
figures
may account for the widely-spread custom of tree-worship. Omne ignotum
pro
magnifico; and if primitive man saw a huge, grave human form come forth from
a
tree, he was likely enough in his ignorance to set up an altar there and
worship
it, not in the least understanding that he himself stood far higher in
evolution
than it did, and that its very assumption of his image was an
acknowledgment
of that fact.
The
occult side of the instinct of a plant is also exceedingly interesting; its
one
great object, like that of some human beings, is always to found a family
and
reproduce its species; and it has certainly a feeling of active enjoyment in
its
success, in the colour and beauty of its flowers and in their efficiency in
attracting
bees and other insects. Unquestionably plants feel admiration
lavished
upon them and delight in it; they are sensitive to human affection and
they
return it in their own way.
When
all this is borne in mind, it will readily be understood that trees
exercise
much more influence over human beings than is commonly supposed, and
that
he who sets himself to cultivate sympathetic and friendly relations with
all
his neighbours, vegetable as well as animal and human, may both receive and
give
a great deal of which the average man knows nothing, and may thus make his
life
fuller, wider, more complete.
THE
SEVEN TYPES
The
classification of the vegetable kingdom adopted by the occultist follows the
line
of the seven great types mentioned in our previous chapter on planetary
influences,
and each of these is divided into seven sub-types. If we imagine
ourselves
trying to tabulate the vegetable kingdom, these divisions would
naturally
be perpendicular, nor horizontal. We should not have trees as one
type,
shrubs as another, ferns as a third, grasses or mosses as a fourth; rather
we
should find trees, shrubs, ferns, grasses, mosses of each of the seven types,
so
that along each line all the steps of the ascending scale are represented.
One
might phrase it that when the Second Outpouring is ready to descend, seven
great
channels, each with its seven subdivisions, lie open for its choice; but
the
channel through which it passes gives it a certain colouring-- a set of
temperamental
characteristics-- which it never wholly loses, so that although in
order
to express itself it needs matter belonging to all the different types, it
has
always a preponderance of its own type, and always recognisably belongs to
that
type and no other, until after its evolution is over it returns as a
glorified
spiritual power to the Deity from whom it originally emerged as a mere
undeveloped
potentiality.
The
vegetable kingdom is only one stage in this stupendous course, yet these
different
types are distinguishable in it, just as they are among animals or
human
beings, and each has its own special influence, which may be soothing or
helpful
to one man, distressing or irritating to another, and inert in the case
of
a third, according to his type and to his condition at the time. Training and
practice
are necessary to enable the student to assign the various plants and
trees
to their proper classes, but the distinction between the magnetism
radiated
by the oak and the pine, the palm tree and the banyan, the olive and
the
eucalyptus, the rose and the lily, the violet and the sunflower, cannot fail
to
be obvious to any sensitive person. Wide as the poles asunder is the
dissimilarity
between the ` feeling' of an English forest and a tropical jungle,
or
the bush of Australia or New Zealand.
ANIMALS
For
thousand of years man has lived so cruelly that all wild creatures fear and
avoid
him, so the influence upon him of the animal kingdom is practically
confined
to that of the domestic animals. In our relations with these our
influence
over them is naturally far more potent than theirs over us, yet this
latter
is by no means to be ignored. A man who has really made friends with an
animal
is often much helped and strengthened by the affection lavished upon him.
Being
more advanced, a man is naturally capable of greater love than an animal
is;
but the animal' s affection is usually more concentrated, and he is far more
likely
to throw the whole of his energy into it than a man is.
The
very fact of the man' s higher development gives him a multiplicity of
interests,
among which his attention is divided; the animal often pours the
entire
strength of his nature into one channel, and so produces a most powerful
effect.
The man has a hundred other matters to think about, and the current of
his
love consequently cannot but be variable; when the dog or the cat develops a
really
great affection it fills the whole of his life, and he therefore keeps a
steady
stream of force always playing upon its object-- a factor whose value is
by
no means to be ignored.
Similarly
the man who is so wicked as to provoke by cruelty the hatred and fear
of
domestic animals becomes by a righteous retribution the centre of converging
forces
of antipathy; for such conduct arouses deep indignation among
nature-spirits
and other astral and etheric entities, as well as among all
right-minded
men, whether living or dead.
HUMAN
BEINGS
Since
it is emphatically true that no man can afford to be disliked or feared by
his
cat or dog, it is clear that the same consideration applies with still
greater
force to the human beings who surround him. It is not easy to
overestimate
the importance to a man of winning the kindly regard of those with
whom
he is in constant association-- to overrate the value to a schoolmaster of
the
attitude towards him of his pupils, to a merchant of the feeling of his
clerks,
to an officer of the devotion of his men; and this entirely apart from
the
obvious effects produced in the physical world. If a man holding any such
position
as one of these is able to arouse the enthusiastic affection of his
subordinates,
he becomes the focus upon which many streams of such forces are
constantly
converging. Not only does this greatly uplift and strengthen him, but
it
also enables him, if he understands something of the working of occult laws,
to
be of far greater use to those who feel the affection, and to do much more
with
them than would otherwise be possible.
To
obtain this result it is not in the least necessary that they should agree
with
him in opinion; with the particular effect with which we are at present
concerned
their mental attitude has no connection whatever; it is a matter of
strong,
kindly feeling. If the feeling should unfortunately be of an opposite
kind--
if the man is feared or despised-- currents of antipathy are perpetually
flowing
towards him, which cause weakness and discord in the vibrations of his
higher
vehicles, and also cut him off from the possibility of doing satisfactory
and
fruitful work with those under his charge.
It
is not only the force of the feeling sent out by the person; like attracts
like
in the astral world as well as the physical. There are always masses of
vague
thought floating about in the atmosphere, some of them good and some evil,
but
all alike ready to reinforce any decided thought of their own type. Also
there
are nature-spirits of low order, which enjoy the coarse vibrations of
anger
and hatred, and are therefore very willing to throw themselves into any
current
of such nature. By doing so they intensify the undulations, and add
fresh
life to them. All this tends to strengthen the effect produced by the
converging
streams of unfavourable thought and feeling.
It
has been said that a man is known by the company he keeps. It is also to a
large
extent true that he is made by it, for those with whom he constantly
associates
are all the while unconsciously influencing him and bringing him by
degrees
more and more into harmony with such undulations as they radiate. He who
is
much in the presence of a large-minded and unworldly man has a fine
opportunity
of himself becoming large-minded and unworldly, for a steady though
imperceptible
pressure in that direction is perpetually being exerted upon him,
so
that it is easier for him to grow in that way than in any other. For the same
reason
a man who spends his time loafing in a public-house with the idle and
various
is exceedingly likely to end by becoming idle and vicious himself. The
study
of the hidden side of things emphatically endorses the old proverb that
evil
communications corrupt good manners.
This
fact of the enormous influence of close association with a more advanced
personality
is well understood in the East, where it is recognised that the most
important
and effective part of the training of a disciple is that he shall live
constantly
in the presence of his teacher and bathe in his aura. The various
vehicles
of the teacher are all vibrating with a steady and powerful swing at
rates
both higher and more regular than any which the pupil can yet maintain,
though
he may sometimes reach them for a few moments; but the constant pressure
of
the stronger thought-waves of the teacher gradually raises those of the pupil
into
the same key. A person who has as yet but little musical ear finds it
difficult
to sing correct intervals alone, but if he joins with another stronger
voice
which is already perfectly trained, his task becomes easier-- which may
serve
as a kind of rough analogy.
The
great point is that the dominant note of the teacher is always sounding, so
that
its action is affecting the pupil night and day without need of any special
thought
on the part of either of them. Growth and change must of course be
ceaselessly
taking place in the vehicles of the pupil, as in those of all other
men;
but the powerful undulations emanating from the teacher render it easy for
this
growth to take place in the right direction, and exceedingly difficult for
it
to go any other way, somewhat as the splints which surround a broken limb
ensure
that its growth shall be only in the right line, so as to avoid
distortion.
No
ordinary man, acting automatically and without intention, will be able to
exercise
even a hundredth part of the carefully-directed influence of a
spiritual
teacher; but numbers may to some extent compensate for lack of
individual
power, so that the ceaseless though unnoticed pressure exercised upon
us
by the opinions and feelings of our associates leads us frequently to absorb
without
knowing it many of their prejudices. It is distinctly undesirable that a
man
should remain always among one set of people and hear only one set of views.
It
is eminently necessary that he should know something of other sets, for only
in
that way can he learn to see good in all; only thoroughly understanding both
sides
of any case can he form an opinion that has any right to be called a real
judgment.
The prejudiced person is always and necessarily an ignorant person;
and
the only way in which his ignorance can be dispelled is by getting outside
his
own narrow little circle, and learning to look at things for himself and see
what
they really are-- not what those who know nothing about them suppose them
to
be.
TRAVEL
The
extent to which our human surroundings influence us is only realised when we
change
them for awhile, and the most effective method of doing this is to travel
in
a foreign country. But true travel is not to rush from one gigantic
caravanserai
to another, consorting all the time with one' s own countrymen, and
grumbling
at every custom which differs from those of our particular Little
Pedlington.
It is rather to live for a time quietly in some foreign land, trying
to
get really to know its people and to understand them; to study a custom and
see
why it has arisen, and what good there is in it, instead of condemning it
off-hand
because it is not our own. The man who does this will soon come to
recognise
the characteristic traits of the various races -- to comprehend such
fundamental
diversities as those between the English and the Irish, the Hindu
and
the American, the Breton and the Sicilian, and yet to realise that they are
to
be looked upon not as one better than another, but as the different colours
that
go to make up the rainbow, the different movements that are all necessary,
as
parts of the great oratorio of life.
Each
has its part to play in affording opportunity for the evolution of egos who
need
just its influence, who are lacking in just its characteristics. Each race
has
behind it a mighty angel, the Spirit of the Race, who under the direction of
the
Manu preserves its special qualities and guides it along the line destined
for
it. A new race is born when in the scheme of evolution a new type a
temperament
is needed; a race dies out when all the egos who can be benefited by
it
have passed through it. The influence of the Spirit of a Race thoroughly
permeates
the country or district over which his supervision extends, and is
naturally
a factor of the greatest importance to any visitor who is in the least
sensitive.
The
ordinary tourist is too often imprisoned in the triple armour of aggressive
race-prejudice;
he is so full of conceit over the supposed excellencies of his
own
nation that he is incapable of seeing good in any other. The wiser
traveller,
who is willing to open his heart to the action of higher forces, may
receive
from this source much that is valuable, both of instruction and
experience.
But in order to do that, he must begin by putting himself in the
right
attitude; he must be ready to listen rather then to talk, to learn rather
than
to boast, to appreciate rather than to criticise, to try to understand
rather
than rashly to condemn.
To
achieve such a result is the true object of travel, and we have a far better
opportunity
for this than was afforded to our forefathers. Methods of
communication
are so much improved that it is now possible for almost anyone to
achieve
quickly and cheaply journeys that would have been entirely impossible a
century
ago, except for the rich and leisured class. Along with these
possibilities
of intercommunication has come the wide dissemination of foreign
news
by means of the telegraph and the newspaper press, so that even those who
do
not actually leave their own country still know much more about others than
was
ever possible before. Without all these facilities there never could have
been
a Theosophical Society, or at least it could not have had its present
character,
nor could it have reached its present level of effectiveness.
The
first object of the Theosophical Society is the promotion of universal
brotherhood,
and nothing helps so much to induce brotherly feeling between
nations
as full and constant intercourse with one another. When people know one
another
only by hearsay, all sorts of absurd prejudices grow up, but when they
come
to know one another intimately, each finds that the other is after all a
human
being much like himself, with the same interests and objects, the same
joys
and sorrows.
In
the old days each nation lived to a large extent in a condition of selfish
isolation,
and if trouble of some sort fell upon one, it had usually no
resources
but its own upon which it could depend. Now the whole world is so
closely
drawn together that if there is a famine in India help is sent from
America;
if an earthquake devastates one of the countries of Europe,
subscriptions
for the sufferers pour in at once from all the others. However far
away
as yet may be the perfect realisation of universal brotherhood, it is clear
that
we are at least drawing nearer to it; we have not yet learnt entirely to
trust
one another, but at least we are ready to help one another, and that is
already
a long step upon the roads towards becoming really one family.
We
know how often travel is recommended as a cure for many physical ills,
especially
for those which manifest themselves through the various forms of
nervous
derangement. Most of us find it to be fatiguing, yet also undeniably
exhilarating,
though we do not always realise that this is not only because of
the
change of air and of the ordinary physical impressions, but also because of
the
change of the etheric and astral influences which are connected with each
place
and district.
Ocean,
mountain, forest or waterfall-- each has its own special type of life,
astral
and etheric as well as visible; and, therefore, its own special set of
impressions
and influences. Many of these unseen entities are pouring out
vitality,
and in any case, the vibrations which they radiate awaken unaccustomed
portions
of our etheric double, and of our astral and mental bodies, and the
effect
is like the exercise of muscles which are not ordinarily called into
activity--
somewhat tiring at the time, yet distinctly healthy and desirable in
the
long run.
The
town-dweller is accustomed to his surroundings, and usually does not realise
the
horror of them until he leaves them for a time. To dwell beside a busy main
street
is from the astral point of view like living on the brink of an open
sewer--
a river of fetid mud which is always throwing up splashes and noisome
odours
as it rolls along. No man, however unimpressionable, can endure this
indefinitely
without deterioration, and an occasional change into the country is
a
necessity on the ground of moral as well as physical health. In travelling
from
the town into the country, too, we leave behind us to a great extent the
stormy
sea of warring human passion and labour, and such human thoughts as still
remain
to act upon us are usually of the less selfish and more elevated kind.
In
the presence of one of nature' s great wonders, such as the Falls of Niagara,
almost
everyone is for the time drawn out of himself, and out of the petty round
of
daily care and selfish desire, so that his thought is nobler and broader, and
the
thought-forms which he leaves behind him are correspondingly less disturbing
and
more helpful. These considerations once more make it evident that in order
to
obtain the full benefit of travel a man must pay attention to nature and
allow
it to act upon him. If he is wrapped up all the while in selfish and
gloomy
thoughts, crushed by financial trouble, or brooding over his own sickness
and
weakness, little benefit can be derived from the healing influences.
Another
point is that certain places are permeated by certain special types of
thought.
The consideration of this matter belongs rather to another chapter, but
we
may introduce it so far as to mention that the frame of mind in which people
habitually
visit a certain place reacts strongly upon all the other visitors to
it.
Popular seaside resorts in England have about them an air of buoyancy and
irresponsibility,
a determined feeling of holiday life, of temporary freedom
from
business and of the resolution to make the most of it, from the influence
of
which it is difficult to escape. Thus the jaded and overworked man who spends
his
well-earned holiday in such a place, obtains quite a different result from
that
which would follow if he simply stayed quietly at home. To sit at home
would
probably be less fatiguing, but also much less stimulating.
To
take a country walk is to travel in miniature, and in order to appreciate its
healthful
effect we must bear in mind what has been said of all the different
vibrations
issuing from various kinds of trees or plants, and even from
different
kinds of soil or rock. All these act as kind of massage upon the
etheric,
astral and mental bodies, and tend to relieve the strain which the
worries
of our common life persistently exert upon certain parts of these
vehicles.
Glimpses
of the truth on these points may sometimes be caught from the
traditions
of the peasantry. For example, there is a widely-spread belief that
strength
may be gained from sleeping under a pine-tree with the head to the
north.
For some cases this is suitable, and the rationale of it is that there
are
magnetic currents always flowing over the surface of the earth which are
quite
unknown to ordinary men. These by steady, gentle pressure gradually comb
out
the entanglements and strengthen the particles both of the astral body and
of
the etheric part of the physical, and thus bring them more into harmony and
introduce
rest and calm. The part played by the pine-tree is, first, that its
radiations
make the man sensitive to those magnetic currents, and bring him into
a
state in which it is possible for them to act upon him, and secondly, that (as
has
already been explained) it is constantly throwing off vitality in that
special
condition in which it is easiest for man to absorb it.
-------Cardiff Theosophical Society in Wales-------
206 Newport Road, Cardiff, Wales, UK. CF24-1DL
http://www.theosophywales.org.uk http://www.theosophycardiff.org
CHAPTER VI
BY
NATURE-SPIRITS
AN
EVOLUTION APART
ANOTHER
factor which exercises great influence under certain restrictions is the
nature-spirit.
We may regard the nature-spirits of the land as in a sense the
original
inhabitants of the country, driven away from some parts of it by the
invasion
of man, much as the wild animals have been. Just like wild animals, the
nature-spirits
avoid altogether the great cities and all places where men most
do
congregate, so that in those their effect is a negligible quantity. But in
all
quiet country places, among the woods and fields, upon the mountains or out
at
sea, nature-spirits are constantly present, and though they rarely show
themselves,
their influence is powerful and all-pervading, just as the scent of
the
violets fills the air though they are hidden modestly among the leaves.
The
nature-spirits constitute an evolution apart, quite distinct at this stage
from
that of humanity. We are familiar with the course taken by the Second
Outpouring
through the three elemental kingdoms, down to the mineral and upward
through
the vegetable and animal, to the attainment of individuality at the
human
level. We know that, after that individuality has been attained, the
unfolding
of humanity carries us gradually to the steps of the Path, and then
onward
and upward to Adeptship and to the glorious possibilities which lie
beyond.
This
is our line of development, but we must not make the mistake of thinking of
it
as the only line. Even in this world of ours the divine life is pressing
upwards
through several streams, of which ours is but one, and numerically by no
means
the most important. It may help us to realise this if we remember that
while
humanity in its physical manifestation occupies only quite a small part of
the
surface of the earth, entities at a corresponding level on other lines of
evolution
not only crowd the earth far more thickly than man, but at the same
time
populate the enormous plains of the sea and the fields of the air.
LINES
OF EVOLUTION
At
this present stage we find these streams running parallel to one another, but
for
the time quite distinct. The nature-spirits, for example, neither have been
nor
ever will be members of a humanity such as ours, yet the indwelling life of
the
nature-spirit comes from the same Solar Deity as our own, and will return to
Him
just as ours will. The streams may be roughly considered as flowing side by
side
as far as the mineral level, but as soon as they turn to commence the
upward
arc of evolution, divergence begins to appear. This stage of
immetalisation
is naturally that at which life is most deeply immersed in
physical
matter but while some of the streams retain physical forms through
several
of the further stages of their development, making them, as they
proceed,
more and more an expression of the life within , there are other
streams
which at once begin to cast off the grosser, and for the rest of their
unfolding
in this world use only bodies composed of etheric matter.
One
of these streams, for example, after finishing that stage of its evolvement
in
which it is part of the mineral monad, instead of passing into the vegetable
kingdom
takes for itself vehicles of etheric matter which inhabit the interior
of
the earth, living actually within the solid rock. It is difficult for many
students
to understand how it is possible for any kind of creature thus to
inhabit
the solid substance of the rock or the crust of the earth. Creatures
possessing
bodies of etheric matter find the substance of the rock no impediment
to
their motion or their vision. Indeed, for them physical matter in its solid
state
is their natural element and habitat-- the only one to which they are
accustomed
and in which they feel at home. These vague lower lives in amorphous
etheric
vehicles are not readily comprehensible to us; but somehow they
gradually
evolve to a stage when, though still inhabiting the solid rock, they
live
close to the surface of the earth instead of in its depths, and the more
developed
of them are able occasionally to detach themselves from it for a short
time.
These
creatures have sometimes been seen, and perhaps more frequently heard, in
caves
or mines, and they are often described in mediaeval literature as gnomes.
The
etheric matter of their bodies is not, under ordinary conditions, visible to
physical
eyes, so that when they are seen one of two things must take place;
either
they must materialise themselves by drawing round them a veil of physical
matter,
or else the spectator must experience an increase of sensitiveness which
enables
him to respond to the wave-lengths of the higher aethers, and to see
what
is not normally perceptible to him.
The
slight temporary exaltation of faculty necessary for this is not very
uncommon
nor difficult to achieve, and on the other hand materialisation is easy
for
creatures which are only just beyond the bounds of visibility; so that they
would
be seen far more frequently than they are, but for the rooted objection to
the
proximity of human beings which they share with all but the lowest types of
nature-spirits.
The next stage of their advancement brings them into the
subdivision
commonly called fairies-- the type of nature-spirits which usually
live
upon the surface of the earth as we do, though still using only an etheric
body;
and after that they pass on through the air-spirits into the kingdom of
the
angels in a way which will be explained later.
The
life-wave which is at the mineral level is manifesting itself not only
through
the rocks which form the solid crust of the earth, but also through the
waters
of the ocean; and just as the former may pass through low etheric forms
of
life (at present unknown to man) in the interior of the earth, so the latter
may
pass through corresponding low etheric forms which have their dwelling in
the
depths of the sea. In this case also the next stage or kingdom brings us
into
more definite though still etheric forms inhabiting the middle depths, and
very
rarely showing themselves at the surface. The third stage for them
(corresponding
to that of the fairies for the rock-spirits) is to join the
enormous
host of water-spirits which cover the vast plains of the ocean with
their
joyous life.
Taking
as they do bodies of etheric matter only, it will be seen that the
entities
following these lines of development miss altogether the vegetable and
animal
kingdoms as well the human. There are, however, other types of
nature-spirits
which enter into both these kingdoms before they begin to
diverge.
In the ocean, for example, there is a stream of life which, after
leaving
the mineral level, touches the vegetable kingdom in the form of
seaweeds,
and then passes on, through the corals and the sponges and the huge
cephalopods
of the middle deeps, up into the great family of the fishes, and
only
after that joins the ranks of water-spirits.
It
will be seen that these retain the dense physical body as a vehicle up to a
much
higher level; and in the same way we notice that the fairies of the land
are
recruited not only from the ranks of the gnomes, but also from the less
evolved
strata of the animal kingdom, for we find a line of development which
just
touches the vegetable kingdom in the shape of minute fungoid growths, and
then
passes onward through bacteria and animalculae of various kinds, through
the
insects and reptiles up to the beautiful family of the birds, and only after
many
incarnations among these joins the still more joyous tribe of the fairies.
Yet
another stream diverges into etheric life at an intermediate point, for
while
it comes up through the vegetable kingdom in the shape of grasses and
cereals,
it turns aside thence into the animal kingdom and is conducted through
the
curious communities of the ants and bees, and then through a set of etheric
creatures
closely corresponding to the latter-- those tiny humming-bird-like
nature-spirits
which are so continually seen hovering about flowers and plants,
and
play so large a part in the production of their manifold variations-- their
playfulness
being often utilised in specialisation and in the helping of growth.
It
is necessary, however, to draw a careful distinction here, to avoid
confusion.
The little creatures that look after flowers may be divided into two
great
classes, though of course there are many varieties of each kind. The first
class
may properly be called elementals, for beautiful though they are, they are
in
reality only thought-forms, and therefore they are not really living
creatures
at all. Perhaps I should rather say that they are only temporarily
living
creatures, for though they are very active and busy during their little
lives,
they have no real evolving, reincarnating life in them, and when they
have
done their work, they just go to pieces and dissolve into the surrounding
atmosphere,
precisely as our own thought-forms do. They are the thought-forms of
the
Great Beings or angels who are in charge of the evolution of the vegetable
kingdom.
When
one of these Great Ones has a new idea connected with one of the kinds of
plants
or flowers which are under his charge, he often creates a thought-form
for
the special purpose of carrying out that idea. It usually takes the form
either
of an etheric model of the flower itself or of a little creature which
hangs
round the plant or the flower all through the time that the buds are
forming,
and gradually builds them into the shape and colour of which the angel
has
thought. But as soon as the plant has fully grown, or the flower has opened,
its
work is over and its power is exhausted, and, as I have said, it just simply
dissolves,
because the will to do that piece of work was the only soul that it
had.
But
there is quite another kind of little creature which is very frequently seen
playing
about with flowers, and this time it is a real nature-spirit. There are
many
varieties of these also. One of the commonest forms is, as I have said,
something
very much like a tiny humming-bird, and it may often be seen buzzing
round
the flowers much in the same way as a humming-bird or a bee does. These
beautiful
little creatures will never become human, because they are not in the
same
line of evolution as we are. The life which is now animating them has come
up
through grasses and cereals, such as wheat and oats, when it was in the
vegetable
kingdom, and afterwards through ants and bees when it was in the
animal
kingdom. Now it has reached the level of these tiny nature-spirits, and
its
next stage will be to ensoul some of the beautiful fairies with etheric
bodies
who live upon the surface of the earth. Later on they will become
salamanders
or fire-spirits, and later still they will become sylphs, or
air-spirits,
having only astral bodies instead of etheric. Later still they will
pass
through the different stages of the great kingdom of the angels.
OVERLAPPING
In
all cases of the transference of the life-wave from one kingdom to another
great
latitude is allowed for variation; there is a good deal of overlapping
between
the kingdoms. That is perhaps most clearly to be seen along our own line
of
evolution for we find that the life which has attained to the highest levels
in
the vegetable kingdom never passes into the lower part of the animal kingdom
at
all, but on the contrary joins it at a fairly advanced stage. Let me recall
the
example which I have already given; the life which has ensouled one of our
great
forest trees could never descend to animate a swarm of mosquitoes, nor
even
a family of rats or mice or such small deer; while these latter would be
quite
appropriate forms for that part of the life-wave which had left the
vegetable
kingdom at the level of the daisy or the dandelion.
The
ladder of evolution has to be climbed in all cases, but it seems as though
the
higher part of one kingdom lies to a large extent parallel with the lower
part
of that above it, so that it is possible for a transfer from one to the
other
to take place at different levels in different cases. That stream of life
which
enters the human kingdom avoids altogether the lowest stages of the animal
kingdom;
that is, the life which is presently to rise into humanity never
manifests
itself through the insects or the reptiles; in the past it did
sometimes
enter the animal kingdom at the level of the great antediluvian
reptiles,
but now it passes directly from the highest forms of the vegetable
life
into the mammalia. Similarly, when the most advanced domestic animal
becomes
individualised, he does not need to descend into the form of the
absolutely
primitive savage for his first human incarnation.
The
accompanying diagram shows some of these lines of development in a
convenient
tabular form, but it must not be considered as in any way exhaustive,
as
there are no doubt other lines which have not yet been observed, and there
are
certainly all kinds of variations and possibilities of crossing at different
levels
from one line to another; so that all we can do is to give a broad
outline
of the scheme.
As
will be seen from the diagram, at a later stage all the lines of evolution
converge
once more; at least to our dim sight there seems no distinction of
glory
among those Lofty Ones, though probably if we knew more we could make our
table
more complete. At any rate we know that, much as humanity lies above the
animal
kingdom, so beyond and above humanity in its turn lies the great kingdom
of
the angels, and that to enter among the angels is one of the seven
possibilities
which the Adept finds opening before him. That same kingdom is
also
the next stage for the nature-spirit, but we have here another instance of
the
overlapping previously mentioned, for the Adept joins that kingdom at a high
level,
omitting altogether three of its stages, while the next step of progress
for
the highest type of nature-spirit is to become the lowest class of angel,
thus
beginning at the bottom of that particular ladder instead of stepping on to
it
half-way up.
It
is on joining the angel kingdom that the nature-spirit receives the divine
Spark
of the Third Outpouring, and thus attains individuality, just as the
animal
does when he passes into the human kingdom; and a further point of
similarity
is that just as the animal gains individualisation only through
contact
with humanity, so the nature-spirit gains it through contact with the
angel--
through becoming attached to him and working in order to please him,
until
at last he learns how to do angel' s work himself.
The
more advanced nature-spirit is therefore not exactly an etheric or astral
human
being, for he is not yet an individual; yet he is much more than an
etheric
or astral animal, for his intellectual level is far higher than anything
which
we find in the animal kingdom, and is indeed quite equal along many lines
to
that of average humanity. On the other hand, some of the earlier varieties
possess
but a limited amount of intelligence, and seem to be about on an
equality
with the humming-birds or bees or butterflies which they so closely
resemble.
As we have seen from our diagram, this one name of nature-spirit
covers
a large segment of the arc of evolution, including stages corresponding
to
the whole of the vegetable and animal kingdoms, and to humanity up to almost
the
present level of our own race.
Some
of the lower types are not pleasing to the aesthetic sense; but that is
true
also of the lower kinds of reptiles and insects. There are undeveloped
tribes
whose tastes are coarse, and naturally their appearance corresponds to
the
stage of their evolution. The shapeless masses with huge red gaping mouths,
which
live upon the loathsome etheric emanations of blood and decaying flesh,
are
horrible both to the sight and to the feeling of any pure-minded person; so
also
are the rapacious red-brown crustacean creatures which hover over houses of
ill-fame,
and the savage octopus-like monsters which gloat over the orgies of
the
drunkard and revel in the fumes of alcohol. But even these harpies are not
evil
in themselves, though repulsive to man; and man would never come into
contact
with them unless he degraded himself to their level by becoming the
slave
of his lower passions.
It
is only nature-spirits of these and similar primitive and unpleasant kinds
which
voluntarily approach the average man. Others of the same sort, but a shade
less
material, enjoy the sensation of bathing in any specially coarse astral
radiations,
such as those produced by anger, avarice, cruelty, jealousy and
hatred.
People yielding themselves to such feelings can depend upon being
constantly
surrounded by these carrion crows of the astral world, who quiver in
their
ghastly glee as they jostle one another in eager anticipation of an
outburst
of passion, and in their blind, blundering way do whatever they can to
provoke
or intensify it. It is difficult to believe that such horrors as these
can
belong to the same kingdom as the jocund spirits next to be described.
FAIRIES
The
type best known to man is that of the fairies, the spirits who live normally
upon
the surface of the earth, though, since their bodies are of etheric matter,
they
can pass into the ground at will. Their forms are many and various, but
most
frequently human in shape and somewhat diminutive in size, usually with a
grotesque
exaggeration of some particular feature or limb. Etheric matter being
plastic
and readily moulded by the power of thought, they are able to assume
almost
any appearance at will, but they nevertheless have definite forms of
their
own, which they wear when they have no special object to serve by taking
any
other, and are therefore not exerting their will to produce a change of
shape.
They have also colours of their own, marking the difference between their
tribes
or species, just as the birds have differences of plumage.
There
are an immense number of subdivisions or races among them, and individuals
of
these sub-divisions vary in intelligence and disposition precisely as human
beings
do. Again like human beings, these divers races inhabit different
countries,
or sometimes different districts of the same country, and the members
of
one race have a general tendency to keep together, just as men of one nation
do
among ourselves. They are on the whole distributed much as are the other
kingdoms
of nature; like the birds, from whom some of them have been evolved,
some
varieties are peculiar to one country, others are common in one country and
rare
elsewhere, while others again are to be found almost anywhere. Again like
the
birds, it is broadly true that the most brilliantly coloured orders are to
be
found in tropical countries.
NATIONAL
TYPES
The
predominant types of the different parts of the world are usually clearly
distinguishable
and in a sense characteristic; or is it perhaps that their
influence
in the slow course of ages has moulded the men and animals and plants
who
lived near them, so that it is the nature-spirit who has set the fashion and
the
other kingdoms which have unconsciously followed it? For example, no
contrast
could well be more marked than that between the vivacious, rollicking,
orange-and-purple
or scarlet-and-gold mannikins who dance among the vineyards of
Sicily
and the almost wistful grey-and-green creatures who move so much more
sedately
amidst the oaks and the furze-covered heaths in Brittany, or the
golden-brown
“good people” who haunt the hill-sides of Scotland.
In
England the emerald-green variety is probably the commonest, and I have seen
it
also in the woods of France and Belgium, in far-away Massachusetts and on the
banks
of the Niagara River. The vast plains of the Dakotas are inhabited by a
black-and-white
kind which I have not seen elsewhere, and California rejoices in
a
lovely white-and-gold species which also appears to be unique.
In
Australia the most frequent type is a very distinctive creature of a
wonderful
luminous skyblue colour; but there is a wide diversity between the
etheric
inhabitants of New South Wales or Victoria and those of tropical
Northern
Queensland. These latter approximate closely to those of the Dutch
Indies.
Java seems specially prolific in these graceful creatures, and the kinds
most
common there are two distinct types, both monochromatic-- one indigo blue
with
faint metallic gleamings, and the other a study in all known shades of
yellow--
quaint, but wonderfully effective and attractive.
A
striking local variety is gaudily ringed with alternate bars of green and
yellow,
like a football jersey. This ringed type is possibly a race peculiar to
that
part of the world, for I saw red and yellow similarly arranged in the Malay
Peninsula,
and green and white on the other side of the Straits in Sumatra. That
huge
island also rejoices in the possession of a lovely pale heliotrope tribe
which
I have seen before only in the hills of Ceylon. Down in New Zealand their
specialty
is a deep blue shot with silver, while in the South Sea Islands one
meets
with a silvery-white variety which coruscates with all the colours of the
rainbow,
like a figure of mother-of-pearl.
In
India we find all sorts, from the delicate rose-and-pale-green, or
paleblue-and-primrose
of the hill country to the rich medley of gorgeously
gleaming
colours, almost barbaric in their intensity and profusion, which is
characteristic
of the plains. In some parts of that marvellous country I have
seen
the black-and-gold type which is more usually associated with the African
desert,
and also a species which resembles a statuette made out of a gleaming
crimson
metal, such as was the orichalcum of the Atlanteans.
Somewhat
akin to this last is a curious variety which looks as though cast out
of
bronze and burnished; it appears to make its home in the immediate
neighbourhood
of volcanic disturbances, since the only places in which it has
been
seen so far are the slopes of Vesuvius and Etna, the interior of Java, the
Sandwich
Islands, the Yellowstone Park in North America, and a certain part of
the
North Island of New Zealand. Several indications seem to point to the
conclusion
that this is a survival of a primitive type, and represents a sort of
intermediate
stage between the gnome and the fairy.
In
some cases, districts close together are found to be inhabited by quite
different
classes of nature-spirits; for example, as has already been mentioned,
the
emerald-green elves are common in Belgium, yet a hundred miles away in
Holland
hardly one of them is to be seen, and their place is taken by a
sober-looking
dark-purple species.
ON
A SACRED MOUNTAIN IN IRELAND
A
curious fact is that altitude above the sea-level seems to affect their
distribution,
those who belong to the mountains scarcely ever intermingling with
those
of the plains. I well remember, when climbing Slieve-namon, one of the
traditionally
sacred hills of Ireland, noticing the very definite lines of
demarcation
between the different types. The lower slopes, like the surrounding
plains,
were alive with the intensely active and mischievous little
red-and-black
race which swarms all over the south and west of Ireland, being
especially
attracted to the magnetic centres established nearly two thousand
years
ago by the magic-working priests of the old Milesian race to ensure and
perpetuate
their domination over the people by keeping them under the influence
of
the great illusion. After half-an-hour' s climbing, however, not one of these
red-and-black
gentry was to be seen, but instead the hillside was populous with
the
gentler blue-and-brown type which long ago owed special allegiance to the
Tuatha-de-Danaan.
These
also had their zone and their well-defined limits, and no nature-spirit of
either
type ever ventured to trespass upon the space round the summit, sacred to
the
great green angels who have watched there for more than two thousand years,
guarding
one of the centres of living force that link the past to the future of
that
mystic land of Erin. Taller far than the height of man, these giant forms,
in
colour like the first new leaves of spring, soft, luminous, shimmering,
indescribable,
look forth over the world with wondrous eyes that shine like
stars,
full of the peace of those who live in the eternal, waiting with the calm
certainty
of knowledge until the appointed time shall come. One realises very
fully
the power and importance of the hidden side of things when one beholds
such
a spectacle as that.
But
indeed it is scarcely hidden, for the different influences are so strong and
so
distinct that anyone in the least sensitive cannot but be aware of them, and
there
is good reason for the local tradition that he who spends a night upon the
summit
of the mountain shall awaken in the morning either a poet or a madman. A
poet,
if he has proved capable of response to the exaltation of the whole being
produced
by the tremendous magnetism which has played upon him while he slept; a
madman,
if he was not strong enough to bear the strain.
FAIRY
LIFE AND DEATH
The
life-periods of the different subdivisions of nature-spirits vary greatly,
some
being quite short, others much longer than our human lifetime. The
universal
principle of reincarnation obtains in their existence also, though the
conditions
naturally make its working slightly different. They have no phenomena
corresponding
to what we mean by birth and growth; a fairy appears in his world
full-sized,
as an insect does. He lives his life, short or long, without any
appearance
of fatigue or need of rest, and without any perceptible signs of age
as
the years pass.
But
at last there comes a time when his energy seems to have exhausted itself,
when
he becomes somewhat tired of life; and when that happens his body grows
more
and more diaphanous until he is left as an astral entity, to live for a
time
in that world among the air-spirits who represent the next stage of
development
for him. Through that astral life he fades back into his group-soul,
in
which he may have (if sufficiently advanced) a certain amount of conscious
existence
before the cyclic law acts upon the group-soul once more by arousing
in
it the desire for separation. When this happens, its pressure turns the
stream
of its energy outward once more, and that desire, acting upon the plastic
astral
and etheric matter, materialises a body of similar type, such as is
suitable
to be an expression of the development attained in that last life.
Birth
and death, therefore, are much simpler for the nature-spirit than for us,
and
death is for him quite free from all thought of sorrow. Indeed, his whole
life
seems simpler-- a joyous, irresponsible kind of existence, much such as a
party
of happy children might lead among exceptionally favorable physical
surroundings.
There is no sex among nature-spirits, there is no disease, and
there
is no struggle for existence, so that they are exempt from the most
fertile
causes of human suffering. They have keen affections and are capable of
forming
close and lasting friendships, from which they derive profound and
never-failing
joy. Jealousy and anger are possible to them, but seem quickly to
fade
before the overwhelming delight in all the operations of nature which is
their
most prominent characteristic.
THEIR
PLEASURES
They
glory in the light and glow of the sunshine, but they dance with equal
pleasure
in the moonlight; they share and rejoice in the satisfaction of the
thirsty
earth and the flowers and the trees when they feel the level lances of
the
rain, but they play just as happily with the falling flakes of snow; they
are
content to float idly in the calm of a summer afternoon, yet they revel in
the
rushing of the wind. Not only do they admire, with an intensity that few of
us
can understand, the beauty of a flower or a tree, the delicacy of its colour
or
the grace of its form, but they take ardent interest and deep delight in all
the
processes of nature, in the flowing of sap, in the opening of buds, in the
formation
and falling of leaves. Naturally this characteristic is utilised by
the
Great Ones in charge of evolution, and nature-spirits are employed to assist
in
the blending of colours and the arrangement of variations. They pay much
attention,
too, to bird and insect life, to the hatching of the egg and to the
opening
of the chrysalis, and they watch with jocund eye the play of lambs and
fawns,
of leverets and squirrels.
Another
inestimable advantage that an etheric evolution possesses over one which
touches
the denser physical is that the necessity of eating is avoided. The body
of
the fairy absorbs such nourishment as it needs, without trouble and without
stint,
from the aether which of necessity always surrounds it; or rather, it is
not,
strictly speaking, that nourishment is absorbed, but rather that a change
of
particles is constantly taking place, those which have been drained of their
vitality
being cast out and others which are full of it being drawn in to
replace
them.
Though
they do not eat, nature-spirits obtain from the fragrance of flowers a
pleasure
analogous to that which men derive from the taste of food. The aroma is
more
to them than a mere question of smell or taste, for they bathe themselves
in
it so that it interpenetrates their bodies and reaches every particle
simultaneously.
What
takes for them the place of a nervous system is far more delicate than
ours,
and sensitive to many vibrations which pass all unperceived by our grosser
senses,
and so they find what corresponds to a scent in many plants and minerals
that
have no scent for us.
Their
bodies have no more internal structure than a wreath of mist, so that they
cannot
be torn asunder or injured, and neither heat nor cold has any painful
effect
upon them. Indeed, there is one type whose members seem to enjoy above
all
things to bathe themselves in fire; they rush from all sides to any great
conflagration
and fly upward with the flames again and again in wild delight,
just
as a boy flies again and again down a toboggan-slide. These are the spirits
of
the fire, the salamanders of mediaeval literature. Bodily pain can come to
the
nature-spirit only from an unpleasant or inharmonious emanation or
vibration,
but his power of rapid locomotion enables him easily to avoid these.
So
far as can be observed he is entirely free from the curse of fear, which
plays
so serious a part in the animal life which, along our line of evolution,
corresponds
to the level of the fairies.
THE
ROMANCES OF FAIRYLAND
The
fairy has an enviably fertile imagination, and it is a great part of his
daily
play with his fellows to construct for them by its means all kinds of
impossible
surroundings and romantic situations. He is like a child telling
stories
to his playmates, but with this advantage over the child that, since the
playmates
can see both etheric and lower astral matter, the forms built by his
vivid
thought are plainly visible to them as his tale proceeds.
No
doubt many of his narrations would to us seem childish and oddly limited in
scope,
because such intelligence as the elf possesses works in directions so
different
from our own, but to him they are intensely real and a source of
never-ending
delight. The fairy who develops unusual talent in fiction wins
great
affection and honour from the rest, and gathers round him a permanent
audience
or following. When some human being chances to catch a glimpse of such
a
group, he usually imports into his account of it preconceptions derived from
his
own conditions, and takes the leader for a fairy king or queen, according to
the
form which that leader may for the moment happen to prefer. In reality the
realm
of nature-spirits needs no kind of government except the general
supervision
which is exercised over it, probably unconsciously to all but its
higher
members, by the Devarajas and their subordinates.
THEIR
ATTITUDE TOWARDS MAN
Most
nature-spirits dislike and avoid mankind, and we cannot wonder at it. To
them
man appears a ravaging demon, destroying and spoiling wherever he goes. He
wantonly
kills, often with awful tortures, all the beautiful creatures that they
love
to watch; he cuts down the trees, he tramples the grass, he plucks the
flowers
and casts them carelessly aside to die; he replaces all the lovely wild
life
of nature with his hideous bricks and mortar, and the fragrance of the
flowers
with the mephitic vapours of his chemicals and the all-polluting smoke
of
his factories. Can we think it strange that the fairies should regard us with
horror,
and shrink away from us as we shrink from a poisonous reptile?
Not
only do we thus bring devastation to all that they hold most dear, but most
of
our habits and emanations are distasteful to them; we poison the sweet air
for
them (some of us) with loathsome fumes of alcohol and tobacco; our restless,
ill-regulated
desires and passions set up a constant rush of astral currents
which
disturbs and annoys them, and gives them the same feeling of disgust which
we
should have if a bucket of filthy water were emptied over us. For them to be
near
the average man is to live in a perpetual hurricane-- a hurricane that has
blown
over a cesspool. They are not great angels, with the perfect knowledge
that
brings perfect patience; they are just happy and on the whole well-disposed
children--
hardly even that, many of them, but more like exceptionally
intelligent
kittens; again, I say, can we wonder, when we thus habitually
outrage
their best and highest feelings, that they should dislike us, distrust
us
and avoid us?
There
are instances on record where, by some more than ordinarily unwarranted
intrusion
or annoyance on the part of man, they have been provoked into direct
retaliation
and have shown distinct malice. It speaks well for their kingdom as
a
whole that even under such unendurable provocation such cases are rare, and
their
more usual method of trying to repel an intruder is by playing tricks upon
him,
childish and mischievous often, but not seriously harmful. They take an
impish
delight in misleading or deceiving him, in causing him to lose his way
across
a moor, in keeping him walking round and round in a circle all night when
he
believes he is going straight on, or in making him think that he sees palaces
and
castles where no such structures really exist. Many a story illustrative of
this
curious characteristic of the fairies may be found among the village gossip
of
the peasantry in almost any lonely mountainous district.
GLAMOUR
They
are greatly assisted in their tricks by the wonderful power which they
possess
of casting a glamour over those who yield themselves to their influence,
so
that such victims for the time see and hear only what these fairies impress
upon
them, exactly as the mesmerised subject sees, hears, feels and believes
whatever
the magnetiser wishes. The nature-spirits, however, have not the
mesmerist'
s power of dominating the human will, except in the case of quite
unusually
weak-minded people, or of those who allow themselves to fall into such
a
condition of helpless terror that their will is temporarily in abeyance.
The
fairies cannot go beyond deception of the senses, but of that they are
undoubted
masters, and cases are not wanting in which they cast their glamour
over
a considerable number of people at once. It is by invoking their aid in the
exercise
of this peculiar power that some of the most marvellous feats of the
Indian
jugglers are performed, such as the celebrated basket trick, or that
other
in which a rope is thrown up towards the sky and remains rigid without
support
while the juggler climbs up it and disappears. The entire audience is in
fact
hallucinated, and the people are made to imagine that they see and hear a
whole
series of events which have not really occurred at all.
The
power of glamour is simply that of making a clear, strong mental image, and
then
projecting that into the mind of another. To most men this would seem
wellnigh
impossible, because they have never made any such attempt in their
lives,
and have no notion how to set about it. The mind of the fairy has not the
width
or the range of the man' s, but it is thoroughly well accustomed to this
work
of making images and impressing them on others, since it is one of the
principal
occupations of the creature' s daily life.
It
is not remarkable that with such constant practice he should become expert at
the
business, and it is still further simplified for him when, as in the case of
the
Indian tricks, exactly the same image has to be produced over and over again
hundreds
of times, until every detail shapes itself without effort as the result
of
unconscious habit. In trying to understand exactly how this is done, we must
bear
in mind that a mental image is a very real thing-- a definite construction
in
mental matter, as has been explained in Thought-Forms (p. 37); and we must
also
remember that the line of communication between the mind and the dense
physical
brain passes through the astral and etheric counterparts of that brain,
and
that the line may be tapped and an impression introduced at any of these
points.
Certain
of the nature-spirits not infrequently exercise their talent for mimicry
and
mischief by appearing at spiritualistic séances held for physical phenomena.
Anyone
who has been in the habit of attending on such occasions will recollect
instances
of practical joking and silly though usually good-natured horse-play;
these
almost always indicate the presence of some of these impish creatures,
though
they are sometimes due to the arrival of dead men who were senseless
enough
during earth-life to consider such inanities amusing, and have not learnt
wisdom
since their death.
INSTANCES
OF FRIENDSHIP
On
the other hand there are instances in which some nature-spirits have made
friends
with individual human beings and offered them such assistance as lay in
their
power, as in the well known stories told of Scotch brownies or of the
fire-lighting
fairies of spiritualistic literature; and it is on record that on
rare
occasions certain favoured men have been admitted to witness elfin revels
and
share for a time the elfin life. It is said that wild animals will approach
with
confidence some Indian yogis, recognising them as friends to all living
creatures;
similarly elves will gather round one who has entered upon the Path
of
Holiness, finding his emanations less stormy and more agreeable than those of
the
man whose mind is still fixed upon worldly matters.
Occasionally
fairies have been known to attach themselves to little children,
and
develop a strong attachment for them, especially for such as are dreamy and
imaginative,
since they are able to see and delight in the thought-forms with
which
such a child surrounds himself. There have even been cases in which such
creatures
took a fancy to some unusually attractive baby, and made an attempt to
carry
it away into their own haunts-- their intention being to save it from what
seems
to them the horrible fate of growing up into the average human being!
Vague
traditions of such attempts account for part of the folk-lore stories
about
changelings, though there is also another reason for them to which we
shall
refer later.
There
have been times-- more often in the past than in the present-- when a
certain
class of these entities, roughly corresponding to humanity in size and
appearance,
made it a practice frequently to materialise, to make for themselves
temporary
but definite physical bodies, and by that means to enter into
undesirable
relations with such men and women as chose to put themselves in
their
way. From this fact, perhaps, come some of the stories of fauns and satyrs
in
the classical period; though those sometimes also refer to quite a different
sub-human
evolution.
WATER-SPIRITS
Abundant
as are the fairies of the earth' s surface almost anywhere away from
the
haunts of man, they are far outnumbered by the water-spirits-- the fairies
of
the surface of the sea. There is just as much variety here as on land. The
nature-spirits
of the Pacific differ from those of the Atlantic, and those of
the
Mediterranean are quite distinct from either; the types that revel in the
indescribably
glorious blue of tropical oceans are far apart from those that
dash
through the foam of our cold grey northern seas. Dissimilar again are the
spirits
of the lake, the river and the waterfall, for they have many more points
in
common with the land fairies than have the nereids of the open sea.
These,
like their brothers of the land, are of all shapes, but perhaps most
frequently
imitate the human. Broadly speaking, they tend to take larger forms
than
the elves of the woods and the hills; the majority of the latter are
diminutive,
while the sea-spirit who copies man usually adopts his size as well
as
his shape. In order to avoid misunderstanding it is necessary constantly to
insist
upon the protean character of all these forms; any of these creatures,
whether
of land or sea or air, can make himself temporarily larger or smaller at
will,
or can assume whatever shape he chooses.
There
is theoretically no restriction upon this power, but in practice it has
its
limits, though they are wide. A fairy who is naturally twelve inches in
height
can expand himself to the proportions of a man of six feet, but the
effort
would be a considerable strain, and could not be maintained for more than
a
few minutes. In order to take a form other than his own he must be able to
conceive
it clearly, and he can hold the shape only while his mind is fixed upon
it;
as soon as his thought wanders he will at once begin to resume his natural
appearance.
Though
etheric matter can readily be moulded by the power of thought, it
naturally
does not obey it as instantaneously as does astral matter; we might
say
that mental matter changes actually with the thought, and astral matter so
quickly
after it that the ordinary observer can scarcely note any difference;
but
with etheric matter one' s vision can follow the growth or diminution
without
difficulty. A sylph, whose body is of astral matter, flashes from one
shape
into another; a fairy, who is etheric, swells or decreases quickly but not
instantaneously.
Few
of the land-spirits are gigantic in size, while such stature seems quite
common
out at sea. The creatures of the land frequently weave from their fancies
scraps
of human clothing, and show themselves with quaint caps or baldrics or
jerkins;
but I have never seen any such appearance among the inhabitants of the
sea.
Nearly all these surface water-spirits seem to possess the power of raising
themselves
out of their proper element and floating in or flying through the air
for
a short distance; they delight in playing amidst the dashing foam or riding
in
upon the breakers. They are less pronounced in their avoidance of man than
their
brethren on land-- perhaps because man has so much less opportunity of
interfering
with them. They do not descend to any great depth below the
surface--
never, at any rate, beyond the reach of light; so that there is always
a
considerable space between their realm and the domain of the far less evolved
creatures
of the middle deeps.
FRESH-WATER
FAIRIES
Some
very beautiful species inhabit inland waters where man has not yet rendered
the
conditions impossible for them. Naturally enough, the filth and the
chemicals
with which water is polluted near any large town are disgusting to
them;
but they have apparently no objection to the water-wheel in a quiet
country
nook, for they may sometimes be seen disporting themselves in a
mill-race.
They seem specially to delight in falling water, just as their
brothers
of the sea revel in the breaking of foam; for the pleasure which it
gives
them they will sometimes even dare a nearer approach than usual to the
hated
presence of man. At Niagara, for example, there are almost always some
still
to be seen in the summer, though they generally keep well out towards the
centre
of the Falls and the Rapids. Like birds of passage, in winter they
abandon
those northern waters, which are frozen over for many months, and seek a
temporary
home in more genial climes. A short frost they do not seem to mind;
the
mere cold has apparently little or no effect upon them, but they dislike the
disturbance
of their ordinary conditions. Some of those who commonly inhabit
rivers
transfer themselves to the sea when their streams freeze; to others salt
water
seems distasteful, and they prefer to migrate considerable distances
rather
than take refuge in the ocean.
An
interesting variety of the fairies of the water are the cloud-spirits--
entities
whose life is spent almost entirely among those “waters which be above
the
firmament”. They should perhaps be classified as intermediate between the
spirits
of the water and those of the air; their bodies are of etheric matter,
as
are the former, but they are capable of remaining away from the water for
comparatively
long periods. Their forms are often huge and loosely knit; they
seem
near of kin to some of the fresh-water types, yet they are quite willing to
dip
for a time into the sea when the clouds which are their favourite habitat
disappear.
They dwell in the luminous silence of cloudland, and their favourite
pastime
is to mould their clouds into strange, fantastic shapes or to arrange
them
in the serried ranks which we call a mackerel sky.
SYLPHS
We
come now to the consideration of the highest type in the kingdom of the
nature-spirits--
the stage at which the lines of development both of the land
and
sea creatures converge-- the sylphs, or spirits of the air. These entities
are
definitely raised above all the other varieties of which we have been
speaking
by the fact that they have shaken themselves free from the encumbrance
of
physical matter, the astral body being now their lowest vehicle. Their
intelligence
is much higher than that of the etheric species, and quite equal to
that
of the average man; but they have not yet attained a permanent
reincarnating
individuality. Just because they are so much more evolved, before
breaking
away from the group-soul they can understand much more about life than
an
animal can, and so it often happens that they know that they lack
individuality
and are intensely eager to gain it. That is the truth that lies at
the
back of all the widely-spread traditions of the yearning of the
nature-spirit
to obtain an immortal soul.
The
normal method for them to attain this is by association with and love for
members
of the next stage above them-- the astral angels. A domestic animal,
such
as the dog or the cat, advances through the development of his intelligence
and
his affection which is the result of his close relationship with his master.
Not
only does his love for that master cause him to make determined efforts to
understand
him, but the vibrations of the master' s mind-body, constantly
playing
upon his rudimentary mind, gradually awaken it into greater and greater
activity;
and in the same way his affection for him arouses an ever-deepening
feeling
in return. The man may or may not definitely set himself to teach the
animal
something; in any case, even without any direct effort, the intimate
connection
between them helps the evolvement of the lower. Eventually the
development
of such an animal rises to the level which will allow him to receive
the
Third Outpouring, and thus he becomes an individual, and breaks away from
his
group-soul.
Now
all this is also exactly what happens between the astral angel and the
air-spirit,
except that by them the scheme is usually carried out in a much more
intelligent
and effective manner. Not one man in a thousand thinks or knows
anything
about the real evolution of his dog or cat; still less does the animal
comprehend
the possibility that lies before him. But the angel clearly
understands
the plan of nature, and in many cases the nature-spirit also knows
what
he needs, and works intelligently towards its attainment. So each of these
astral
angels usually has several sylphs attached to him, frequently definitely
learning
from him and being trained by him, but at any rate basking in the play
of
his intellect and returning his affection. Very many of these angels are
employed
as agents by the Devarajas in their duty of the distributing of karma;
and
thus it comes that the air-spirits are often sub-agents in that work, and no
doubt
acquire much valuable knowledge while executing the tasks assigned to
them.
The
Adept knows how to make use of the services of the nature-spirits when he
requires
them, and there are many pieces of business which he is able to entrust
to
them. In the issue of Broad Views for February, 1907, there appeared an
admirable
account of the ingenious manner in which a nature-spirit executed a
commission
given to him in this way.
He
was instructed to amuse an invalid who was suffering from an attack of
influenza,
and for five days he kept up an almost continuous entertainment of
strange
and interesting visions, his efforts being crowned with the most
gratifying
success, for the sufferer wrote that his ministrations “had the happy
effect
of turning what under ordinary circumstances would have been days of
unutterable
weariness and discomfort into a most wonderfully interesting
experience”.
He
showed a bewildering variety of pictures, moving masses of rock, seen not
from
the outside but from the inside, so that faces of creatures of various
sorts
appeared in them. He also exhibited mountains, forests and avenues, and
sometimes
great masses of architecture, portions of Corinthian columns, bits of
statuary,
and great arched roofs, often also the most wonderful flowers and
palms,
waving to and fro as if in a gentle breeze. Sometimes he seems to have
taken
the physical objects in the bedroom and woven them into a kind of magic
transformation
scene. One might indeed surmise, from the curious nature of the
entertainment
offered, the particular type to which belonged the nature-spirit
who
was employed in this charitable work.
The
Oriental magician occasionally endeavours to obtain the assistance of the
higher
nature-spirits in his performances, but the enterprise is not without its
dangers.
He must adopt either invocation or evocation-- that is, he must either
attract
their attention as a suppliant and make some kind of bargain with them,
or
he must try to set in motion influences which will compel their obedience--
an
attempt which, if it fails, will arouse a determined hostility that is
exceedingly
likely to result in his premature extinction, or at the least will
put
him in an extremely ridiculous and unpleasant position.
Of
these air-spirits, as of the lower fairies, there are many varieties,
differing
in power, in intelligence and in habits as well as in appearance. They
are
naturally less restricted to locality than the other kinds which we have
described,
though like the others they seem to recognise the limits of certain
zones
of elevation, some kinds always floating near the surface of the earth,
while
others scarcely ever approach it. As a general rule they share the common
dislike
to the neighbourhood of man and his restless desires, but there are
occasions
when they are willing to endure this for the sake of amusement or
flattery.
THEIR
AMUSEMENT
They
extract immense entertainment sometimes out of the sport of ensouling
thought-forms
of various kinds. An author in writing a novel, for example,
naturally
makes strong thought-forms of all his characters, and moves them about
his
miniature stage like marionettes; but sometimes a party of jocund
nature-spirits
will seize upon his forms, and play out the drama upon a scheme
improvised
on the spur of the moment, so that the dismayed novelist feels that
his
puppets have somehow got out of hand and developed a will of their own.
The
love of mischief which is so marked a characteristic of some of the fairies
persists
to a certain extent among at least the lower types of the air-spirits,
so
that their impersonations are occasionally of a less innocent order. People
whose
evil karma has brought them under the domination of Calvinistic theology,
but
who have not yet the intelligence or the faith to cast aside its blasphemous
doctrines,
sometimes in their fear make awful thought-forms of the imaginary
devil
to which their superstition gives such a prominent role in the universe;
and
I regret to say that certain impish nature-spirits are quite unable to
resist
the temptation of masquerading in these terrible forms, and think it a
great
joke to flourish horns, to lash a forked tail, and to breathe out flames
as
they rush about. To anyone who understands the nature of these pantomime
demons
no harm is done; but now and then nervous children happen to be
impressionable
enough to catch a glimpse of such things, and if they have not
been
wisely taught, great terror is the result.
It
is only fair to the nature-spirit to remember that, as he himself is
incapable
of fear, he does not in the least understand the gravity of this
result,
and probably considers the child' s fright as simulated, and as part of
the
game. We can hardly blame the nature-spirit for the fact that we permit our
children
to be bound by the chains of a grovelling superstition, and neglect to
impress
upon them the grand fundamental fact that God is love and that perfect
love
casteth out all fear. If our air-spirit occasionally thus terrifies the
ill-instructed
living child, it must on the other hand be set to his credit that
he
constantly affords the keenest pleasure to thousands of children who are what
we
call ` dead,' for to play with them and to entertain them in a hundred
different
ways is one of his happiest occupations.
The
air-spirits have discovered the opportunity afforded to them by the
spiritualistic
séance, and some of them become habitual attendants, usually
under
some such name as Daisy or Sunflower. They are quite capable of giving a
very
interesting séance, for they naturally know a good deal about astral life
and
its possibilities. They will readily answer questions, truly enough as far
as
their knowledge goes, and with, at any rate, an appearance of profundity when
the
subject is somewhat beyond them. They can produce raps, tilts and lights
without
difficulty, and are quite prepared to deliver whatever messages they may
see
to be desired-- not in the least meaning in this way harm or deceit, but
naively
rejoicing in their success in playing the part, and in the wealth of
awe-stricken
devotion and affection lavished upon them as “dear spirits” and
“angel
helpers”. They learn to share the delight of the sitters, and feel
themselves
to be doing a good work in thus bringing comfort to the afflicted.
Living
astrally as they do, the fourth dimension is a commonplace fact of their
existence,
and this makes quite simple for them many little tricks which to us
appear
wonderful, such as the removal of articles from a locked box or the
apport
of flowers into a closed room. The desires and emotions of the sitters
lie
open before them, they quickly acquire facility in reading any but abstract
thoughts,
and the management of a materialisation is quite within their power
when
adequate material is provided. It will therefore be seen that without any
exterior
assistance they are competent to provide a varied and satisfactory
evening'
s entertainment, and there is no doubt that they have often done so. I
am
not for a moment suggesting that nature-spirits are the only entities which
operate
at séances; the manifesting ` spirit' is often exactly what he claims to
be,
but it is also true that he is often nothing of the kind, and the average
sitter
has absolutely no means of distinguishing between the genuine article and
the
imitation.
AN
ABNORMAL DEVELOPMENT
As
has already been said, the normal line of advancement for the nature-spirit
is
to attain individuality by association with an angel, but there have been
individuals
who have departed from that rule. The intensity of affection felt by
the
sylph for the angel is the principal factor in the great change, and the
abnormal
cases are those in which that affection has been fixed upon a human
being
instead. This involves so complete a reversal of the common attitude of
these
beings towards humanity that its occurrence is naturally rare; but when it
happens,
and when the love is strong enough to lead to individualisation, it
detaches
the nature-spirit from his own line of evolution and brings him over
into
ours, so that the newly developed ego will incarnate not as an angel but as
a
man.
Some
tradition of this possibility lies at the back of all the stories in which
a
non-human spirit falls in love with a man, and yearns with a great longing to
obtain
an immortal soul in order to be able to spend eternity with him. Upon
attaining
his incarnation such a spirit usually makes a man of very curious
type--
affectionate and emotional but wayward, strangely primitive in certain
ways,
and utterly without any sense of responsibility.
It
has sometimes happened that a sylph who was thus strongly attracted to a man
or
a woman, but just fell short of the intensity of affection necessary to
ensure
individualisation, has made an effort to obtain a forcible entrance into
human
evolution by taking possession of the body of a dying baby just as its
original
owner left it. The child would seem to recover, to be snatched back
from
the very jaws of death, but would be likely to appear much changed in
disposition,
and probably peevish and irritable in consequence of the
unaccustomed
constraint of a dense physical body.
If
the sylph were able to adapt himself to the body, there would be nothing to
prevent
him from retaining it through a life of the ordinary length. If during
that
life he succeeded in developing affection sufficiently ardent to sever his
connection
with his group-soul he would thereafter reincarnate as a human being
in
the usual way; if not, he would fall back at its conclusion into his own line
of
evolution. It will be seen that in these facts we have the truth which
underlies
the widely disseminated tradition of changelings, which is found in
all
the countries of north-western Europe, in China, and also (it is said) among
the
natives of the Pacific slope of North America.
THE
ADVANTAGE OF STUDYING THEM
The
kingdom of the nature-spirits is a most interesting field of study, to which
but
little attention has been paid. Though they are often mentioned in occult
literature,
I am not aware that any attempt has yet been made to classify them
in
scientific fashion. This vast realm of nature still needs its Cuvier or its
Linnaeus;
but perhaps when we have plenty of trained investigators we may hope
that
one of them will take upon himself this role, and furnish us as his life' s
work
with a complete and detailed natural history of these delightful creatures.
It
will be no waste of labour, no unworthy study. It is useful for us to
understand
these beings, not solely nor even chiefly because of the influence
they
exert upon us, but because the comprehension of a line of evolution so
different
from our own broadens our minds and helps us to recognise that the
world
does not exist for us alone, and that our point of view is neither the
only
one nor the most important. Foreign travel has the same effect in a minor
degree,
for it demonstrates to every unprejudiced man that races in every
respect
as good as his own may yet differ widely from it in a hundred ways. In
the
study of the nature-spirits we find the same idea carried much further; here
is
a kingdom radically dissimilar-- without sex, free from fear, ignorant of
what
is meant by the struggle for existence-- yet the eventual result of its
unfoldment
is in every respect equal to that attained by following our own line.
To
learn this may help us to see a little more of the many-sidedness of the
Solar
Deity, and so may teach us modesty and charity as well as liberality of
thought.
-------Cardiff Theosophical Society in Wales-------
206 Newport Road, Cardiff, Wales, UK. CF24-1DL
http://www.theosophywales.org.uk http://www.theosophycardiff.org
CHAPTER VII
BY
CENTRES OF MAGNETISM
WE
all recognise to some extent that unusual surroundings may produce special
effects;
we speak of certain buildings or landscapes as gloomy and depressing;
we
understand that there is something saddening and repellent about a prison,
something
devotional about a church, and so on. Most people never trouble to
think
why this should be so, or if they do for a moment turn their attention to
the
matter, they dismiss it as an instance of the association of ideas.
Probably
it is that, but it is also much more than that, and if we examine into
its
rationale we shall find that it operates in many cases where we have never
suspected
its influence, and that a knowledge of it may be of practical use in
everyday
life. A study of the finer forces of nature will show us not only that
every
living being is radiating a complex set of definite influences upon those
about
him, but also that this is true to a lesser degree and in a simpler manner
of
inanimate objects.
OUR
GREAT CATHEDRALS
We
know that wood and iron and stone have their own respective characteristic
radiations,
but the point to be emphasised just now is that they are all capable
of
absorbing human influence, and then pouring it out again. What is the origin
of
that feeling of devotion, of reverential awe, which so permeates some of our
great
cathedrals that even the most hardened Cook' s tourist cannot entirely
escape
it? It is due not only to the historical associations, not only to the
remembrance
of the fact that for centuries men have met here for praise and
prayer,
but far more to that fact itself, and to the conditions which it has
produced
in the substance of the fabric.
To
understand this we must first of all remember the circumstances under which
those
buildings were erected. A modern brick church, run up by contract in the
shortest
possible time, has indeed but little sanctity about it; but in
mediaeval
days faith was greater, and the influence of the outer world less
prominent.
In very truth men prayed as they built our great cathedrals, and laid
every
stone as though it had been an offering upon an altar. When this was the
spirit
of the work, every such stone became a veritable talisman charged with
the
reverence and devotion of the builder, and capable of radiating those same
waves
of sensation upon others, so as to stir in them similar feelings. The
crowds
who came afterwards to worship at the shrine not only felt these
radiations,
but themselves strengthened them in turn by the reaction of their
own
feelings.
Still
more is this true of the interior decorations of the church. Every touch
of
the brush in the colouring of a triptych, every stroke of the chisel in the
sculpture
of a statue, was a direct offering to God. Thus the completed work of
art
is surrounded by an atmosphere of reverence and love, and it distinctly
sheds
these qualities upon the worshippers. All of them, rich and poor alike,
feel
something of this effect, even though many of them may be too ignorant to
receive
the added stimulus which its artistic excellence gives to those who are
able
to appreciate it and to perceive all that it means.
The
sunlight streaming through the splendid stained glass of those mediaeval
windows
brings with it a glory that is not all of the physical world, for the
clever
workmen who built up that marvellous mosaic did so for the love of God
and
the glory of His saints, and so each fragment of glass is a talisman also.
Remembering
always how the power conveyed into the statue or picture by the
fervour
of the original artist has been perpetually reinforced through the ages
by
the devotion of successive generations of worshippers, we come to understand
the
inner meaning of the great influence which undoubtedly does radiate from
such
objects as have been regarded as sacred for centuries.
Such
a devotional effect as is described in connection with a picture or a
statue
may be entirely apart from its value as a work of art. The bambino at the
Ara
Coeli at Rome is a supremely inartistic object, yet it has unquestionably
considerable
power in evoking devotional feeling among the masses that crowd to
see
it. If it were really a work of art, that fact would add but little to its
influence
over most of them, though of course it would in that case produce an
additional
and totally different effect upon another class of persons to whom
now
it does not in the least appeal.
From
these considerations it is evident that these various ecclesiastical
properties,
such as statues, pictures and other decorations, have a real value
in
the effect which they produce upon the worshippers, and the fact that they
thus
have a distinct power, which so many people can feel, probably accounts for
the
intense hatred felt for them by the savage fanatics who miscalled themselves
puritans.
They realised that the power which stood behind the Church worked to a
great
extent through these objects as its channels, and though their loathing
for
all higher influences was considerably tempered by fear, they yet felt that
if
they could break up these centres of magnetism, that would to a certain
extent
cut off the connection. And so in their revolt against all that was good
and
beautiful they did all the harm that they could-- almost as much perhaps as
those
earlier so-called Christians who, through sheer ignorance, ground up the
most
lovely Grecian statues to furnish lime to build their wretched hovels.
In
all these splendid mediaeval buildings the sentiment of devotion absolutely
and
literally exudes from the walls, because for centuries devotional
thought-forms
have been created in them by successive generations. In strong
contrast
to this is the atmosphere of criticism and disputation which may be
felt
by any sensitive person in the meeting-houses of some of the sects. In many
a
conventicle in Scotland and in Holland this feeling stands out with startling
prominence,
so as to give the impression that the great majority of the
so-called
worshippers have had no thought of worship or devotion at all, but
only
of the most sanctimonious self-righteousness, and of burning anxiety to
discover
some doctrinal flaw in the wearisome sermon of their unfortunate
minister.
An
absolutely new church does not at first produce any of these effects; for in
these
days workmen build a church with the same lack of enthusiasm as a factory.
As
soon as the bishop consecrates it, a decided influence is set up as the
effect
of that ceremony, but the consideration of that belongs to another
chapter
of our work. A few years of use will charge the walls very effectively,
and
a much shorter period than that will produce the result in a church where
the
sacrament is reserved, or where perpetual adoration is offered. The Roman
Catholic
or Ritualistic church soon becomes thoroughly affected, but the
meeting-houses
of some of the dissenting sects which do not make a special point
of
devotion, often produce for a long time an influence scarcely distinguishable
from
that which is to be felt in an ordinary lecture hall. A fine type of
devotional
influence is often to be found in the chapel of a convent or
monastery,
though again the type differs greatly according to the objects which
the
monks or the nuns set before themselves.
TEMPLES
I
have been taking Christian fanes as an example, because they are those which
are
most familiar to me-- which will also be most familiar to the majority of my
readers;
also perhaps because Christianity is the religion which has made a
special
point of devotion, and has, more than any other, arranged for the
simultaneous
expression of it in special buildings erected for that purpose.
Among
Hindus the Vaishnavite has a devotion quite as profound as that of any
Christian,
though unfortunately it is often tainted by expectation of favours to
be
given in return. But the Hindu has no idea of anything like combined worship.
Though
on great festivals enormous crowds attend the temples, each person makes
his
little prayer or goes through his little ceremony for himself, and so he
misses
the enormous additional effect which is produced by simultaneous action.
Regarded
solely from the point of view of charging the walls of the temple with
devotional
influence, this plan differs from the other in a way that we may
perhaps
understand by taking a physical illustration of a number of sailors
pulling
at a rope. We know that, when that is being done, a sort of chant is
generally
used in order to ensure that the men shall apply their strength at
exactly
the same moment; and in that way a much more effective pull is produced
than
would be achieved if each man put out exactly the same strength, but
applied
it just when he felt that he could, and without any relation to the work
of
the others.
Nevertheless
as the years roll by there comes to be a strong feeling in a
Vaishnavite
temple-- as strong perhaps as that of the Christians, though quite
different
in kind. Different again in quite another way is the impression
produced
in the great temples dedicated to Shiva. In such a shrine as that at
Madura,
for example, an exceedingly powerful influence radiates from the holy of
holies.
It is surrounded by a strong feeling of reverential awe, almost of fear,
and
this so deeply tinges the devotion of the crowds who come to worship that
the
very aura of the place is changed by it.
Completely
different again is the impression which surrounds a Buddhist temple.
Of
fear we have there absolutely no trace whatever. We have perhaps less of
direct
devotion, for to a large extent devotion is replaced by gratitude. The
prominent
radiation is always one of joyfulness and love-- an utter absence of
anything
dark or stern.
Another
complete contrast is represented by the Muhammadan mosque; devotion of a
sort
is present there also, but it is distinctly a militant devotion, and the
particular
impression that it gives one is that of a fiery determination. One
feels
that this population' s comprehension of their creed may be limited, but
there
is no question whatever as to their dogged determination to hold by it.
The
Jewish synagogue again is like none of the others, but has a feeling which
is
quite distinct, and curiously dual-- exceptionally materialistic on one side,
and
on the other full of a strong, pathetic longing for the return of vanished
glories.
SITES
AND RELICS
A
partial recognition of another facet of the facts which we have been
mentioning
accounts for the choice of the site of many religious edifices. A
church
or a temple is frequently erected to commemorate the life and death of
some
saint, and in the first instance such a fane is built upon a spot which has
some
special connection with him. It may be the place where he died, the spot
where
he was born, or where some important event of his life occurred.
The
Church of the Nativity at Bethlehem and that of the Crucifixion at Jerusalem
are
instances of this, as is also the great Stupa at Buddhagaya where the Lord
Gautama
attained His Buddhahood, or the temple of the ` Bishanpad' where it is
supposed
that Vishnu left His foot-mark. All such shrines are erected not so
much
from an historical sense which wishes to indicate for the benefit of
posterity
the exact spot where an important event happened, as with the idea
that
that spot is especially blessed, especially charged with a magnetism which
will
remain through the ages, and will radiate upon and benefit those who bring
themselves
within the radius of its influence. Nor is this universal idea
without
adequate foundation.
The
spot at which the Lord BUDDHA gained the step which gives Him that august
title
is charged with a magnetism which causes it to glow forth like a sun for
anyone
who has clairvoyant vision. It is calculated to produce the strongest
possible
magnetic effect on anyone who is naturally sensitive to such influence,
or
who deliberately makes himself temporarily sensitive to such influence by
putting
himself in an attitude of heartfelt devotion.
In
a recent article on Buddhagaya in The Lotus Journal Alcyone wrote:
When
I sat quietly under the tree for awhile with Mrs. Besant, I was able to see
the
Lord BUDDHA, as He had looked when He sat there. Indeed, the record of His
meditation
is still so strong that it needs only a little clairvoyance to see
Him
even now. I had the advantage of having met Him in that life in 588 B.C.,
and
become one of His followers, so that it was easier for me to see Him again
in
this present life. But I think almost anyone who is a little sensitive would
see
Him at Buddhagaya by staying quite quiet for a little time because the air
is
full of His influence, and even now there are always great Devas bathing in
the
magnetism, and guarding the place.
Other
churches, temples or dagobas are sanctified by the possession of relics of
some
Great One, and here again the connection of ideas is obvious. It is
customary
for those who are ignorant of these matters to ridicule the idea of
paying
reverence to the fragment of bone which once belonged to a saint; but
though
reverence paid to the bone may be out of place, the influence radiating
from
that bone may nevertheless be quite a real thing, and well worthy of
serious
attention. That the trade in relics has led, all the world over, to
fraud
on the one hand and blind credulity on the other, is not a thing to be
disputed;
but that by no means alters the fact that a genuine relic may be a
valuable
thing. Whatever has been part of the physical body of a Great One, or
even
of the garments which have clothed that physical body, is impregnated with
his
personal magnetism. That means that it is charged with the powerful waves of
thought
and feeling which used to issue from him, just as an electrical battery
may
be charged.
Such
force as it possesses is intensified and perpetuated by the thought-waves
poured
upon it as the years roll by, by the faith and devotion of the crowds who
visit
the shrine. This when the relic is genuine; but most relics are not
genuine.
Even then, though they have no initial strength of their own, they
acquire
much influence as time goes on, so that even a false relic is by no
means
without effect. Therefore anyone putting himself into a receptive
attitude,
and coming into the immediate neighbourhood of a relic, will receive
into
himself its strong vibrations, and soon will be more or less attuned to
them.
Since those vibrations are unquestionably better and stronger than any
which
he is likely to generate on his own account, this is a good thing for him.
For
the time being it lifts him on to a higher level, it opens a higher world to
him;
and though the effect is only temporary, this cannot but be good for him--
an
event which will leave him, for the rest of his life, slightly better than if
it
had not occurred.
This
is the rationale of pilgrimages, and they are quite often really effective.
In
addition to whatever may have been the original magnetism contributed by the
holy
man or relic, as soon as the place of pilgrimage is established and numbers
of
people begin to visit it, another factor comes into play, of which we have
already
spoken in the case of churches and temples. The place begins to be
charged
with the devotional feeling of all these hosts of visitors, and what
they
leave behind reacts upon their successors. Thus the influence of one of
these
holy places usually does not decrease as time passes, for if the original
force
tends slightly to diminish, on the other hand it is constantly fed by new
accessions
of devotion. Indeed, the only case in which the power ever fades is
that
of a neglected shrine-- as, for example, when a country is conquered by
people
of another religion, to whom the older shrines are as nothing. Even then
the
influence, if it has been originally sufficiently strong, persists almost
without
diminution for many centuries, and for this reason even ruins have often
a
powerful force connected with them.
The
Egyptian religion, for example, has been practised little since the
Christian
era, yet no sensitive person can stand amidst the ruins of one of its
temples
without being powerfully affected by the stream of its thought. In this
particular
instance another force comes into play; the Egyptian architecture was
of
a definite type, intentionally so erected for the purpose of producing a
definite
impression upon its worshippers, and perhaps no architecture has ever
fulfilled
its purpose more effectively.
The
shattered fragments which remain still produce that effect to no
inconsiderable
degree, even upon members of an alien race altogether out of
touch
with the type of the old Egyptian civilisation. For the student of
comparative
religion who happens to be sensitive, there can be no more
interesting
experience than this-- to bathe in the magnetism of the older
religions
of the world, to feel their influence as their devotees felt it
thousands
of years ago, to compare the sensations of Thebes or Luxor with those
of
the Parthenon or of the beautiful Greek temples of Girgenti, or those of
Stonehenge
with the vast ruins of Yucatan.
RUINS
The
religious life of the old world can best be sensed in this way through the
agency
of its temples; but it is equally possible in the same way to come into
touch
with the daily life of those vanished nations, by standing among the ruins
of
their palaces and their homes. This needs perhaps a keener clairvoyant sense
than
the other. The force which permeates the temple is powerful because it is
to
a considerable extent one-pointed-- because all through the centuries people
have
come to it with one leading idea of prayer or devotion, and so the
impression
made has been comparatively powerful. In their homes, on the other
hand,
they have lived out their lives with all kinds of different ideas and
warring
interests, so that the impressions often cancel one another.
Nevertheless
there emerges, as years roll on, a sort of least common multiple of
all
their feelings, which is characteristic of them as a race, and this can be
sensed
by one who has the art of entirely suppressing those personal feelings of
his
own, which are so far nearer and more vivid to him, and listening earnestly
to
catch the faint echo of the life of those times so long ago. Such study often
enables
one to take a juster view of history; manners and customs which startle
and
horrify us, because they are so remote from our own, can in this way be
contemplated
from the point of view of those to whom they were familiar; and in
seeing
them thus, one often realises for the first time how entirely we have
misconceived
those men of the past.
Some
of us may remember how, in our childhood, ignorant though well-meaning
relations
endeavoured to excite our sympathy by stories of Christian martyrs who
were
thrown to the lions in the Colosseum at Rome, or reprobated with horror the
callous
brutality which could assemble thousands to enjoy the combats between
gladiators.
I am not prepared to defend the tastes and amusements of the ancient
Roman
citizen, yet I think that any sensitive person who will go to the
Colosseum
at Rome and (if he can for the moment escape from the tourist) sit
down
there quietly, and let his consciousness drift backwards in time until he
can
sense the real feeling of those enormous, wildly-excited audiences, will
find
that he has done them a gross injustice.
First,
he will realise that the throwing of Christians to the lions because of
their
religious belief is a pious falsehood of the unprincipled early
Christians.
He will find that the government of Rome was in religious matters
distinctly
more tolerant than most European governments at the present day; that
no
person was ever executed or persecuted on account of any religious opinion
whatever,
and that those so-called Christians who were put to death suffered not
in
the least because of their alleged religion, but because of conspiracy
against
the State, or of crimes which we should all join in reprobating.
He
will find that the government allowed and even encouraged gladiatorial
combats,
but he will also find that only three classes of people took part in
them.
First, condemned criminals-- men whose lives had been forfeited to the law
of
the time-- were utilised to provide a spectacle for the people, a degrading
spectacle
certainly, but not in any way more so than many which receive popular
approval
at the present day. The malefactor was killed in the arena, fighting
either
against another malefactor or a wild beast; but he preferred to die
fighting
rather than at the hands of the law, and there was always just a
possibility
that if he fought well he might thereby contrive to earn the
applause
of the fickle population; and so save his life.
The
second class consisted of such prisoners of war as it was the fashion of the
time
to put to death; but in this case also these were people whose death was
already
decided upon, and this particular form of death utilised them for a
certain
form of popular entertainment, and also gave them a chance of saving
their
lives, at which they eagerly grasped. The third class were the
professional
gladiators, men like the prize-fighters of the present day, men who
took
up this horrible line of life for the sake of the popularity which it
brought--
accepting it with their eyes fully open to its danger.
I
am not for a moment suggesting that the gladiatorial show was a form of
entertainment
which could possibly be tolerated by a really enlightened people;
but
if we are to apply the same standard now, we shall have to admit that no
enlightened
nations have yet come into existence, for it was no worse than the
mediaeval
tournaments, than the cock-fighting and bear-baiting of a century ago,
or
than the bull-fight or prize-fight of the present day. Nor is there anything
to
choose between the brutality of its supporters and that of the people who go
in
vast crowds to see how many rats a dog can kill in a minute, or that of the
noble
sportsmen who (without the excuse of anything in the nature of a fair
fight)
go out to slaughter hundreds of inoffensive partridges.
We
are beginning to set a somewhat higher value on human life than they did in
the
days of ancient Rome; but even so I would point out that that change does
not
mark a difference between the ancient Roman race and its reincarnation in
the
English people, for our own race was equally callous about wholesale
slaughter
up to a century ago. The difference is not between us and the Romans,
but
between us and our very recent ancestors; for the crowds which in the days
of
our fathers went and jested at a public execution can hardly be said to have
advanced
much since the time when they crowded the benches of the Colosseum.
It
is true that the Roman Emperors attended those exhibitions, as the English
Kings
used to encourage the tournament, and as the Kings of Spain even now
patronise
the bull-fight; but in order to understand the varied motives which
led
them to do this we must make a thorough study of the politics of the time--
a
matter which is quite outside the scope of this book. Here it must suffice to
say
that the Roman citizens were a body of men in a very curious political
position,
and that the authorities considered it necessary to provide them with
constant
entertainments in order to keep them in a good humour. Therefore they
hit
upon this method of utilising what they regarded as the necessary and
customary
execution of criminals and rebels, in order to provide for the
proletariat
a kind of entertainment which it enjoyed. A very brutal proletariat,
you
will say. One must certainly admit that they were not highly advanced, but
at
least they were far better than those much later specimens who took active
part
in the unspeakable horrors of the French Revolution, for these last felt an
active
delight in blood and cruelty, which were only unnoticed concomitants of
the
enjoyment in the case of the Roman.
Anyone
who, standing in the Colosseum, as I have said, will really allow himself
to
feel the true spirit of those crowds of long ago, will understand that what
appealed
to them was the excitement of the contest and the skill exhibited in
it.
Their brutality consisted not in the fact that they enjoyed bloodshed and
suffering,
but that in the excitement of watching the struggle they were able to
ignore
it-- which after all is very much what we do when we eagerly follow in
the
columns of our newspapers the news from the seat of war in the present day.
Level
for level, case for case, we of the fifth sub-race have made a slight
advance
from the condition of the fourth sub-race of two thousand years ago; but
that
advance is much slighter than our self-satisfaction has persuaded us.
Every
country has its ruins, and in all alike the study of the older life is an
interesting
study. A good idea of the wonderfully varied activities and
interests
of the mediaeval monastic life in England may be obtained by visiting
that
queen of ruins, Fountains Abbey, just as by visiting the stones of Carnac
(not
in Egypt but in Morbihan) one may watch the midsummer rejoicings round the
tantad
or sacred fire of the ancient Bretons.
There
is perhaps less necessity to study the ruins of India, since daily life
there
has remained so unchanged throughout the ages that no clairvoyant faculty
is
required to picture it as it was thousands of years ago. None of the actual
buildings
of India go back to any period of appreciable difference, and in most
cases
the relics of the golden age of India under the great Atlantean monarchies
are
already deeply buried. If we turn to mediaeval times, the effect of
environment
and religion on practically the same people is curiously illustrated
by
the difference in feeling between any ancient city of the north of India and
the
ruins of Anuradhapura in Ceylon.
MODERN
CITIES
Just
as our ancestors of long ago lived their ordinary lives in what was to them
the
ordinary commonplace way, and never dreamed that in doing so they were
impregnating
the stones of their city walls with influences which would enable a
psychometer
thousands of years afterwards to study the inmost secrets of their
existence,
so we ourselves are impregnating our cities and leaving behind us a
record
which will shock the sensibilities of the more developed men of the
future.
In certain ways which will readily suggest themselves, all great towns
are
much alike; but on the other hand there are differences of local atmosphere,
depending
to some extent upon the average morality of the city, the type of
religious
views most largely held in it, and its principal trades and
manufactures.
For all these reasons each city has a certain amount of
individuality--
and individuality which will attract some people and repel
others,
according to their disposition. Even those who are not specially
sensitive
can hardly fail to note the distinction between the feeling of Paris
and
that of London, between Edinburgh and Glasgow, or between Philadelphia and
Chicago.
There
are some cities whose key-note is not of the present but of the past--
whose
life in earlier days was so much more forcible than it is now, that the
present
is dwarfed by its comparison. The cities on the Zuyder Zee in Holland
are
an instance of this; S. Albans in England is another. But the finest example
which
the world has to offer is the immortal city of Rome. Rome stands alone
among
the cities of the world in having three great and entirely separate
interests
for the psychic investigator. First, and much the strongest, is the
impression
left by the astonishing vitality and vigour of that Rome which was
the
centre of the world, the Rome of the Republic and the Caesars; then comes
another
strong and unique impression-- that of mediaeval Rome, the
ecclesiastical
centre of the world: third and quite different from either, the
modern
Rome of to-day, the political centre of the somewhat loosely integrated
Italian
kingdom, and at the same time still an ecclesiastical centre of
widespread
influence, though shorn of its glory and power.
I
first went to Rome, I confess, with the expectation that the Rome of the
mediaeval
Popes, with the assistance of all the world-thought that must for so
long
have been centred upon it, and with the advantage also of being so much
nearer
to us in time, would have to a considerable extent blotted out the life
of
the Rome of the Caesars. I was startled to find that the actual facts are
almost
exactly the reverse of that. The conditions of Rome in the Middle Ages
were
sufficiently remarkable to have stamped an indelible character upon any
other
town in the world; but so enormously stronger was the amazingly vivid life
of
that earlier civilisation, that it still stands out, in spite of all the
history
that has been made there since, as the one ineffaceable and dominating
characteristic
of Rome.
To
the clairvoyant investigator, Rome is (and ever will be) first of all the
Rome
of the Caesars, and only secondarily the Rome of the Popes. The impression
of
ecclesiastical history is all there, recoverable to the minutest detail; a
bewildering
mass of devotion and intrigue, of insolent tyranny and real
religious
feeling; a history of terrible corruption and of world-wide power, but
rarely
used as well as it might have been. And yet, mighty as it is, it is
dwarfed
into absolute insignificance by the grander power that went before it.
There
was a robustness of faith in himself, a conviction of destiny, a resolute
intention
to live his life to the utmost, and a certainty of being able to do
it,
about the ancient Roman, which few nationalities of to-day can approach.
PUBLIC
BUILDINGS
Not
only has a city as a whole its general characteristics, but such of the
buildings
in it as are devoted to special purposes have always an aura
characteristic
of that purpose. The aura of a hospital, for example, is a
curious
mixture; a preponderance of suffering, weariness and pain, but also a
good
deal of pity for the suffering, and a feeling of gratitude on the part of
the
patients for the kindly care which is taken of them.
The
neighbourhood of a prison is decidedly to be avoided when a man is selecting
a
residence, for from it radiate the most terrible gloom and despair and settled
depression,
mingled with impotent rage, grief and hatred. Few places have on the
whole
a more unpleasant aura around them; and even in the general darkness there
are
often spots blacker than the rest, cells of unusual horror round which an
evil
reputation hangs. For example, there are several cases on record in which
the
successive occupants of a certain cell in a prison have all tried to commit
suicide,
those who were unsuccessful explaining that the idea of suicide
persistently
arose in their minds, and was steadily pressed upon them from
without,
until they were gradually brought into a condition in which there
seemed
to be no alternative. There have been instances in which such a feeling
was
due to the direct persuasion of a dead man; but also and more frequently it
is
simply that the first suicide has charged the cell so thoroughly with
thoughts
and suggestions of this nature that the later occupants, being probably
persons
of no great strength or development of will, have found themselves
practically
unable to resist.
More
terrible still are the thoughts which still hang round some of the dreadful
dungeons
of mediaeval tyrannies, the oubliettes of Venice or the torture-dens of
the
Inquisition. Just in the same way the very walls of a gambling-house radiate
grief,
envy, despair and hatred, and those of the public-house, or house of
ill-fame,
absolutely reek with the coarsest forms of sensual and brutal desire.
CEMETERIES
In
such cases as those mentioned above, it is easy enough for all decent people
to
escape the pernicious influences simply by avoiding the place; but there are
other
instances in which people are placed in undesirable situations through the
indulgence
of natural good feeling. In countries which are not civilised enough
to
burn their dead, survivors constantly haunt the graves in which decaying
physical
bodies are laid; from a feeling of affectionate remembrance they gather
often
to pray and meditate there, and to lay wreaths of flowers upon the tombs.
They
do not understand that the radiations of sorrow, depression and
helplessness
which so frequently permeate the churchyard or cemetery make it an
eminently
undesirable place to visit. I have seen old people walking and sitting
about
in some of our more beautiful cemeteries, and nursemaids wheeling along
young
children in their perambulators to take their daily airing, neither of
them
probably having the least idea that they are subjecting themselves and
their
charges to influences which will most likely neutralise all the good of
the
exercise and the fresh air; and this quite apart from the possibility of
unhealthy
physical exhalations.
UNIVERSITIES
AND SCHOOLS
The
ancient buildings of our great universities are surrounded with magnetism of
a
special type, which does much towards setting upon its graduates that peculiar
seal
which is so readily distinguishable, even though it is not easy to say in
so
many words exactly of what it consists. Men attending the university are of
many
and various types-- reading men, hunting men, pious men, careless men; and
sometimes
one college of a university attracts only one of these classes. In
that
case its walls become permeated with those characteristics, and its
atmosphere
operates to keep up its reputation. But on the whole the university
is
surrounded with a pleasant feeling of work and comradeship, of association
yet
of independence, a feeling of respect for the traditions of the Alma Mater
and
the resolve to uphold them, which soon brings the new undergraduate into
line
with his fellows and imposes upon him the unmistakable university tone.
Not
unlike this is the influence exerted by the buildings of our great public
schools.
The impressionable boy who comes to one of these soon feels about him a
sense
of order and regularity and esprit de corps, which once gained can
scarcely
be forgotten. Something of the same sort, but perhaps even more
pronounced,
exists in the case of a battleship, especially if she is under a
popular
captain and has been some little time in commission. There also the new
recruit
very quickly finds his place, soon acquires the esprit de corps, soon
learns
to feel himself one of a family whose honour he is bound to uphold. Much
of
this is due to the example of his fellows and to the pressure of the
officers;
but the feeling, the atmosphere of the ship herself undoubtedly bears
a
share in it also.
LIBRARIES,
MUSEUMS AND GALLERIES
The
studious associations of a library are readily comprehensible, but those of
museums
and picture-galleries are much more varied, as might be expected. In
both
these latter cases the influence is principally from pictures or the
objects
shown, and consequently our discussion of it is part of a later chapter.
As
far as the influence of the actual buildings is concerned, apart from the
objects
exhibited in them, the result is a little unexpected, for a prominent
feature
is a quite overwhelming sense of fatigue and boredom. It is evident that
the
chief constituent in the minds of the majority of the visitors is the
feeling
that they know that they ought to admire or to be interested in this or
that,
whereas as a matter of fact they are quite unable to achieve the least
real
admiration or interest.
THE
STOCK-YARDS OF CHICAGO
The
awful emanations from the stock-yards in Chicago, and the effect they
produce
on those who are so unfortunate as to live anywhere near them, have
often
been mentioned in Theosophical literature. Mrs. Besant herself has
described
how on her first visit she felt the terrible pall of depression which
they
cause while she was yet in the train many miles from Chicago; and though
other
people, less sensitive than she, might not be able to detect it so
readily,
there can be no doubt that its influence lies heavily upon them
whenever
they draw near to the theatre of that awful iniquity. On that spot
millions
of creatures have been slaughtered and every one of them has added to
its
radiations its own feelings of rage and pain and fear and the sense of
injustice;
and out of it all has been formed one of the blackest clouds of
horror
at present existing in the world.
In
this case the results of the influence are commonly known, and it is
impossible
for anyone to profess incredulity. The low level of morality and the
exceeding
brutality of the slaughterman are matters of notoriety. In many of the
murders
committed in that dreadful neighbourhood the doctors have been able to
recognise
a peculiar twist of the knife which is used only by slaughtermen, and
the
very children in the streets play no games but games of killing. When the
world
becomes really civilised men will look back with incredulous horror upon
such
scenes as these, and will ask how it could have been possible that people
who
in other respects seem to have had some gleams of humanity and common sense,
could
permit so appalling a blot upon their honour as is the very existence of
this
accursed thing in their midst.
SPECIAL
PLACES
Any
spot where some ceremony has been frequently repeated, especially if in
connection
with it a high ideal has been set up, is always charged with a
decided
influence. For example, the hamlet of Oberammergau, where for many years
at
set intervals the Passion Play has been reproduced, is full of thought-forms
of
the previous performances, which react powerfully upon those who are
preparing
themselves to take part in a modern representation. An extraordinary
sense
of reality and of the deepest earnestness is felt by all those who assist,
and
it reacts even upon the comparatively careless tourist, to whom the whole
thing
is simply an exhibition. In the same way the magnificent ideals of Wagner
are
prominent in the atmosphere of Bayreuth, and they make a performance there a
totally
different thing from one by identically the same players anywhere else.
SACRED
MOUNTAINS
There
are instances in which the influence attached to a special place is
non-human.
This is usually the case with the many sacred mountains of the world.
I
have described in a previous chapter the great angels who inhabit the summit
of
the mountain of Slieve-na-Mon in Ireland. It is their presence which makes
the
spot sacred, and they perpetuate the influence of the holier magic of the
leaders
of the Tuatha-de-Danaan, which they ordained to remain until the day of
the
future greatness of Ireland shall come, and its part in the mighty drama of
empire
shall be made clear.
I
have several times visited a sacred mountain of a different type-- Adam' s
Peak
in Ceylon. The remarkable thing about this peak is that it is held as a
sacred
spot by people of all the various religions of the Island. The Buddhists
give
to the temple on its summit the name of the shrine of the Sripada or holy
footprint,
and their story is that when the Lord BUDDHA visited Ceylon in His
astral
body (He was never there in the physical) He paid a visit to the tutelary
genius
of that mountain, who is called by the people Saman Deviyo. Just as He
was
about to depart, Saman Deviyo asked Him as a favour to leave on that spot
some
permanent memory of His visit, and the BUDDHA in response is alleged to
have
pressed His foot upon the solid rock, utilising some force which made upon
it
a definite imprint or indentation.
The
story goes on to say that Saman Deviyo, in order that this holy footprint
should
never be defiled by the touch of man, and that the magnetism radiating
from
it should be preserved, covered it with a huge cone of rock, which makes
the
present summit of the mountain. On the top of this cone a hollow has been
made
which roughly resembles a huge foot, and it seems probable that some of the
more
ignorant worshippers believe that to be the actual mark made by the Lord
BUDDHA;
but all the monks who know emphatically deny that, and point to the fact
that
this is not only enormously too large to be a human footprint, but that it
is
also quite obviously artificial.
They
explain that it is made there simply to indicate the exact spot under which
the
true footprint lies, and they point to the fact that there is unquestionably
a
crack running all round the rock at some distance below the summit. The idea
of
a sacred footprint on that summit seems to be common to the various
religions,
but while the Buddhists hold it to be that of the Lord BUDDHA, the
Tamil
inhabitants of the Island suppose it to be one of the numerous footprints
of
Vishnu, and the Christians and the Muhammadans attribute it to Adam-- whence
the
name Adam' s Peak.
But
it is said that long before any of these religions had penetrated to the
Island,
long before the time of the Lord BUDDHA Himself, this peak was already
sacred
to Saman Deviyo, to whom the deepest reverence is still paid by the
inhabitants--
as indeed it well may be, since He belongs to one of the great
orders
of the angels who rank near to the highest among the Adepts. Although His
work
is of a nature entirely different from ours, He also obeys the Head of the
Great
Occult Hierarchy; He also is one of the Great White Brotherhood which
exists
only for the purpose of forwarding the evolution of the world.
The
presence of so great a being naturally sheds a powerful influence over the
mountain
and its neighbourhood, and most of all over its summit, so that there
is
emphatically a reality behind to account for the joyous enthusiasm so freely
manifested
by the pilgrims. Here also, as at other shrines, we have in addition
to
this the effect of the feeling of devotion with which successive generations
of
pilgrims have impregnated the place, but though that cannot but be powerful,
it
is yet in this case completely overshadowed by the original and ever-present
influence
of the mighty entity who has done His work and kept His guard there
for
so many thousands of years.
SACRED
RIVERS
There
are sacred rivers also-- the Ganges, for example. The idea is that some
great
person of old has magnetised the source of the river with such power that
all
the water that henceforth flows out from that source is in a true sense holy
water,
bearing with it his influence and his blessing. This is not an
impossibility,
though it would require either a great reserve of power in the
beginning
or some arrangement for a frequent repetition. The process is simple
and
comprehensible; the only difficulty is what may be called the size of the
operation.
But what would be beyond the power of the ordinary man might possibly
be
quite easy to some one at a much higher level.
-------Cardiff Theosophical Society in Wales-------
206 Newport Road, Cardiff, Wales, UK. CF24-1DL
http://www.theosophywales.org.uk http://www.theosophycardiff.org
CHAPTER VIII
BY
CEREMONIES
IN
considering the influence exerted by our cathedrals and churches we have
hitherto
concerned ourselves with that which radiates from their walls. That is,
however,
only one small part of the effect that they are intended to produce
upon
the community-- only incidental to the great plan of the Founder of the
religion;
and even that plan in turn is only part of a still mightier scheme.
Let
me try to explain.
THE
HIERARCHY
Theosophical
students are familiar with the fact that the direction of the
evolution
of the world is vested in the Hierarchy of Adepts, working under one
great
Leader, and that one of the departments of this government is devoted to
the
promotion and management of religion. The official in charge of that
department
is called in the East the Bodhisattva, and is known to us in the West
as
the Christ, though that is really the title of only one of His incarnations.
The
plan of the government is that during each world-period there shall be seven
successive
Christs-- one for each root-race. Each of these in succession holds
this
office of Bodhisattva, and during His term of office He is in charge of all
the
religious thought of the world, not only of that of His own special
root-race;
and He may incarnate many times.
To
illustrate exactly what is meant, let us take the case of the previous holder
of
this office, whom we know as the Lord Gautama. He was technically the
Bodhisattva
of the Atlantean or fourth root-race, and in that He incarnated many
times
under different names through a period spreading over several hundreds of
thousands
of years; but though His special work thus lay with the fourth
root-race,
He was in charge of the religions of the whole world, and
consequently
He did not neglect the fifth root-race. In the earlier part of the
history
of each of its sub-races He appeared and founded a special religion. In
the
first sub-race He was the original Vyasa; the name which He bore in the
second
sub-race has not been preserved in history. In the third sub-race He was
the
original Zoroaster, the first of a long line who bore that name. For the
great
religion of Egypt He was Thoth-- called by the Greeks Hermes Trismegistus,
Hermes
the Thrice-Greatest, and among the early Greeks of the fourth sub-race He
was
Orpheus the Bard, the founder of their mysteries.
In
each of such births He drew round Him a number of earnest disciples,
naturally
in many cases the same egos over again in new bodies, although He was
steadily
adding to their number. The fourth root-race has by no means finished
its
evolution, for the majority of the earth' s inhabitants still belong to it--
the
vast hosts of Chinese, Tartars, Japanese, Malays and all the undeveloped
peoples
of the earth; but it has long passed its prime, the time when it was the
dominant
race of the world, and when all the most advanced egos were incarnated
in
it. When the glory had finally passed from it the Bodhisattva prepared for
the
culminating act of His work, which involves for Him the attainment of that
very
high level of Initiation which we call the Buddha-hood and also the
resigning
of His office into the hands of His successor.
The
preparation required was to bring together into one country, and even to a
great
extent into part of that country, all the egos who had been His special
followers
in the different lives which lay behind Him. Then He Himself
incarnated
among them-- or perhaps more probably one of His highest disciples
incarnated
among them and yielded up his body to the Bodhisattva when the
appointed
time drew near; and as soon as in that body He had taken the great
Initiation
and become the BUDDHA, He went forth to preach His Law. We must not
attach
to that word Law the ordinary English meaning, for it goes very much
further
than a mere set of commands. We must take it rather to signify His
presentation
of the Truth about humanity and its evolution, and His
instructions,
based upon that truth, as to how a man should act so as to
co-operate
in the scheme of that evolution.
Preaching
this Law He drew round Him all the hosts of His old disciples, and by
the
tremendous power and magnetism which belonged to Him as the BUDDHA He
enabled
large numbers of them to take that fourth step on the Path, to which is
given
the name of the Arhat. He spent the rest of His life on earth in preaching
and
consolidating this new faith, and when He passed away from physical life He
definitely
handed over His office of director of religion to His successor, whom
we
call the Lord Maitreya-- the Great One who is honoured all through India
under
the name of Krishna and throughout the Christian world as Jesus the
Christ.
No Theosophical student will be confused by this last expression, for he
knows
that the Christ, who is the new Bodhisattva, took the body of the disciple
Jesus,
and held it for the last three years of its life in order to found the
Christian
religion. After its death He continued for some years to teach His
more
immediate disciples from the astral world, and from that time to this He
has
employed that disciple Jesus (now Himself a Master) to watch over and guide
as
far as may be the destinies of His Church.
Immediately
upon taking over the office, the Lord Maitreya availed Himself of
the
extraordinarily good conditions left behind Him by the BUDDHA to make
several
simultaneous attempts to promote the religious progress of the world. He
not
only descended into an almost immediate incarnation Himself, but He at the
same
time employed a number of those who had attained the Arhat level under the
Lord
BUDDHA, and were now ready to take rebirth at once. From this band of
disciples
came those whom we call Laotse and Confucius, who were sent to
incarnate
in China. From them also came Plato, and from among their followers
Phidias
and many another of the greatest of the Greeks.
Within
the same area of time came the great philosopher Pythagoras, who is now
our
Master K. H. He was not one of the immediate attendants of the Lord BUDDHA,
as
He had already attained the Arhat level and was needed for work elsewhere,
but
He travelled over to India to see Him and to receive His blessing. He also
is
upon the line of the Bodhisattva; and may be regarded as one of His foremost
lieutenants.
Simultaneously
with all these efforts the Lord Maitreya Himself incarnated as
Krishna,
and led in India a very wonderful life, upon which is founded the
devotional
aspect of the religion of that country, which shows us perhaps the
most
fervent examples of utter devotion to be seen anywhere in the world. This
great
incarnation must not be confounded with that of the Krishna described in
the
Mahabharata; the latter was a warrior and a statesman, and lived some two
thousand
five hundred years before the time of which we are speaking.
Along
with this came another great incarnation-- not this time from the
department
of religion, but rather from one the departments of organisation--
the
great Shankaracharya, who travelled over India, founding the four chief
monasteries
and the Sannyasi order. Some confusion has been created by the fact
that
each of the long line of those who have since stood at the head of the
monastic
organisations has also taken the title of Shankaracharya, so that to
speak
of Shankaracharya is like speaking of the Pope without indicating which
particular
holder of the Papal Chair is intended. The great Founder to whom we
have
referred must not be confused with the better known holder of the office
who
some seven hundred years after Christ wrote a voluminous series of
commentaries
on the Bhagavad-Gita and some of the Upanishads.
THE
THREE PATHS
These
three great Teachers, who followed one another so quickly in India,
furnished
between them a fresh impulse along each of the three paths. The BUDDHA
founded
a religion giving minute directions for daily life, such as would be
needed
by those who should follow the path of action, while Shankaracharya
provided
the metaphysical teaching for those to whom the path is wisdom, and the
Lord
Maitreya (manifesting as Krishna) provided a supreme object of devotion for
those
to whom that is the most direct road to the truth. But Christianity must
be
considered as the first effort of the new Bodhisattva to build a religion
which
should go abroad into new countries, for His work as Krishna had been
intended
especially for India. For those who penetrate behind the external
manifestation
to the inner and mystical meaning, it will be significant that the
ray
or type to which belong the Lord BUDDHA, the Bodhisattva and our Master K.
H.
is in a special sense a manifestation of the second aspect of the Solar
Deity--
the second person of the Blessed Trinity.
Religion
has an objective side to it; it acts not only from within by stirring
up
the hearts and minds of its votaries, but also from without by arranging that
uplifting
and refining influences shall play constantly upon their various
vehicles.
The temple or the church is meant to be not merely a place of worship,
but
also a centre of magnetism, through which spiritual forces can be poured out
upon
the district surrounding it. People often forget that even the Great Ones
must
do their work subject to the laws of nature, and that it is for them an
actual
duty to economise their force as much as possible, and therefore to do
whatever
they have to do in the easiest possible manner.
In
this case, for example, if the object be to let spiritual force shine forth
over
a certain district, it would not be economical to pour it down
indiscriminately
everywhere, like rain, since that would require that the
miracle
of its materialisation to a lower level should be performed in millions
of
places simultaneously, once for every drop, as it were, and each representing
a
mighty effort. Far simpler would it be to establish at certain points definite
magnetic
centres, where the machinery of such materialisation should be
permanently
set up, so that by pouring in only a little force from above it
should
instantly be spread abroad over a considerable area.
This
had been achieved in earlier religions by the establishment of strongly
magnetised
centres, such as are offered by the image or by the lingam in a Hindu
temple,
by the altar of the sacred fire among the Parsis, or by the statue of
the
Lord BUDDHA among the Buddhists. As each worshipper comes before one of
these
symbols and pours himself out in devotion or gratitude, he not only draws
down
the answering force upon himself, but also causes a certain radiation upon
those
for some distance round him.
In
founding the religion of Christianity the Bodhisattva tried a new experiment
with
the view of securing at least once daily a much more thorough and effective
distribution
of spiritual force. The fact that new experiments of this sort may
be
tried-- that though the splendid system of the Hierarchy is unalterably
founded
upon the Rock of Ages, it yet permits so much of freedom to its
Officials--
is surely of deepest interest. It shows us that that organisation
which
is in all the world the most utterly conservative is yet at the same time
amazingly
liberal, and that the oldest form of government is also the most
adaptable.
It is only in reference to the august Head of the Hierarchy that we
can
use to the fullest extent those grand old words of a Collect of the Church
of
England: “In His service is perfect freedom.”
Perhaps
the most readily comprehensible way of explaining this new scheme will
be
to describe the way in which I myself was first enabled to see something of
the
details of its working. But first I must say a few words as to the present
condition
of the Christian Church.
As
we see that Church now, it is but a poor representation of what its Founder
meant
it to be. Originally it had its higher mysteries, like all other faiths,
and
its three stages of purification, illumination and perfection, through which
its
children had to pass. With the expulsion as heretics of the great Gnostic
doctors
this aspect of the truth was lost to the Church, and the only idea which
it
now places before its members is the first of the three stages, and even that
not
understandingly. Origen, one of the greatest men that it has ever produced,
described
very clearly the two kinds of Christianity-- the somatic or physical,
and
the spiritual-- saying that the former is meant only to attract the ignorant
masses,
but that the latter is for those who know. In these days the Church has
forgotten
that true spiritual and higher side of her teaching, and has busied
herself
with pitiful attempts to explain that there is somehow or other a
spiritual
side to the lower teaching which is practically all that she has left.
CHRISTIAN
MAGIC
Nevertheless,
and in spite of all this, the old magic which was instituted by
her
Founder is still working and effective; so even in these days of her
decadence
she is still definitely under guidance and control. There is still a
real
and a vital power in the sacraments when truly performed-- the power of the
Solar
Deity Himself-- and it comes through Him whom we call the Master Jesus,
this
being His special department.
It
was not He, but the Christ-- the Lord Maitreya-- who founded the religion,
but
nevertheless the special charge of Christianity has been given into the
hands
of Him who yielded His body for the work of the Founder. Belief in His
personal
interest in the Christian Church has almost died out in many branches
of
it; the members think of him as a Teacher who lived two thousand years ago
rather
than as an active power in the Church to-day. They have forgotten that He
is
still a living force, a real presence-- truly with us always, even to the end
of
the world, as He has said. Not God in the idolatrous sense, yet the channel
through
which the Divine power has reached many millions-- the official in
charge
of the devotional department of the work of the Christ.
The
Church has turned aside widely from the course originally marked out for it.
It
was meant to meet all types; now it meets only one, and that very
imperfectly.
The reconstruction of the links must come, and as intellectual
activity
is the sign of our time and of the latest sub-race, the intellectual
revival
which shows itself in the higher criticism has for its very purpose that
of
enabling religion to meet another type of mind. If only the priests and the
teachers
had the advantage of direct knowledge, they would be able to deal with
and
to help their people in this crisis-- to guide their intellectual activity
by
means of their own knowledge of the truth, and to keep alive in the hearts of
their
flock the spirituality without which the intellectual effort can be but
barren.
Not
only has the Church almost entirely forgotten the original doctrine taught
by
her Founder, but most of her priests have now little conception of the real
meaning
and power of the ceremonies which they have to perform. It is probable
that
the Christ foresaw that this would happen, for He has carefully arranged
that
the ceremonies should work even though neither celebrants nor people have
any
intelligent comprehension of their methods or their results. It would be
difficult
to explain the outline of His plan to the average Christian; to the
Theosophist
it ought to be more readily comprehensible, because he is already
familiar
with some of the general ideas involved in it.
We
who are students have often heard of the great reservoir of force which is
constantly
being filled by the Nirmanakayas in order that its contents may be
utilised
by members of the Adept Hierarchy and Their pupils for the helping of
the
evolution of mankind. The arrangement made by the Christ with regard to His
religion
was that a kind of special compartment of that reservoir should be
reserved
for its use, and that a certain set of officials should be empowered by
the
use of certain special ceremonies, certain words and signs of power, to draw
upon
it for the spiritual benefit of their people.
The
scheme adopted for passing on the power is what is called ordination, and
thus
we see at once the real meaning of the doctrine of the apostolic
succession,
about which there has been so much of argument. I myself held
strongly
to that doctrine while officiating as a priest of the Church; but when
through
the study of Theosophy I came to understand religion better and to take
a
far wider view of life, I began to doubt whether in reality the succession
meant
so much as we of the ritualistic party had supposed. With still further
study
however, I was rejoiced to find that there was a real foundation for the
doctrine,
and that it meant even much more than our highest schools had ever
taught.
THE
MASS
My
attention was first called to this by watching the effect produced by the
celebration
of the Mass in a Roman Catholic Church in a little village in
Sicily.
Those who know that most beautiful of islands will understand that one
does
not meet with the Roman Catholic Church there in its most intellectual
form,
and neither the priest nor the people could be described as especially
highly
developed; yet the quite ordinary celebration of the Mass was a
magnificent
display of the application of occult force.
At
the moment of consecration the Host glowed with the most dazzling brightness;
it
became in fact a veritable sun to the eye of the clairvoyant, and as the
priest
lifted it above the heads of the people I noticed that two distinct
varieties
of spiritual force poured forth from it, which might perhaps be taken
as
roughly corresponding to the light of the sun and the streamers of his
corona.
The first rayed out impartially in all directions upon all the people in
the
church; indeed, it penetrated the walls of the church as though they were
not
there, and influenced a considerable section of the surrounding country.
This
force was of the nature of a strong stimulus and, its action was strongest
of
all in the intuitional world, though it was also exceedingly powerful in the
three
higher subdivisions of the mental world. Its activity was marked in the
first,
second and third subdivisions of the astral also, but this was a
reflection
of the mental, or perhaps an effect produced by sympathetic
vibration.
Its effect upon the people who came within the range of its influence
was
proportionate to their development. In a very few cases (where there was
some
slight intuitional development) it acted as a powerful stimulant, doubling
or
trebling for a time the amount of activity in those intuitional bodies and
the
radiance which they were capable of emitting. But forasmuch as in most
people
the intuitional matter was as yet almost entirely dormant, its chief
effect
was produced upon the causal bodies of the inhabitants.
Most
of them, again, were awake and partially responsive only as far as the
matter
of the third subdivision of the mental world was concerned, and therefore
they
missed much of the advantage that they might have gained if the higher
parts
of their causal bodies had been in full activity. But at any rate every
ego
within reach, without exception, received a distinct impetus and a distinct
benefit
from that act of consecration, little though he knew or recked of what
was
being done.
The
astral vibrations also, though much fainter, produced a far-reaching effect,
for
at least the astral bodies, of the Sicilians are usually thoroughly
well-developed
so that it is not difficult to stir their emotions. Many people
far
away from the church, walking along the village street or pursuing their
various
avocations upon the lonely hill-sides, felt for a moment a thrill of
affection
or devotion, as this great wave of spiritual peace and strength passed
over
the country-side, though assuredly they never dreamt of connecting it with
the
Mass which was being celebrated in their little cathedral.
It
at once becomes evident that we are here in the presence of a grand and
far-reaching
scheme. Clearly one of the great objects, perhaps the principal
object,
of the daily celebration of the Mass is that every one within reach of
it
shall receive at least once each day one of these electric shocks which are
so
well calculated to promote any growth of which he is capable. Such an
outpouring
of force brings to each person whatever he has made himself capable
of
receiving; but even the quite undeveloped and ignorant cannot but be somewhat
the
better for the passing touch of a noble emotion, while for the few more
advanced
it means a spiritual uplifting the value of which it would be difficult
to
exaggerate.
I
said that there was a second effect, which I compared to the streamers of the
sun'
s corona. The light which I have just described poured forth impartially
upon
all, the just and the unjust, the believers and the scoffers. But this
second
force was called into activity only in response to a strong feeling of
devotion
on the part of an individual. At the elevation of the Host all members
of
the congregation duly prostrated themselves-- some apparently as a mere
matter
of habit, but some also with a strong upwelling of deep devotional
feeling.
The
effect as seen by clairvoyant sight was most striking and profoundly
impressive,
for to each of these latter there darted from the uplifted Host a
ray
of fire, which set the higher part of the astral body of the recipient
glowing
with the most intense ecstasy. Through the astral body, by reason of its
close
relation with it, the intuitional vehicle was also strongly affected; and
although
in none of these peasants could it be said to be in any way awakened,
its
growth within its shell was unquestionably distinctly stimulated, and its
capability
of instinctively influencing the astral was enhanced. For while the
awakened
intuition can consciously mould and direct the astral, there is a great
storehouse
of force in even the most undeveloped intuitional vehicle, and this
shines
out upon and through the astral body, even though it be unconsciously and
automatically.
I
was naturally intensely interested in this phenomenon, and I made a point of
attending
various functions at different churches in order to learn whether what
I
had seen on this occasion was invariable, or, if it varied, when and under
what
conditions. I found that at every celebration the same results were
produced,
and the two forces which I have tried to describe were always in
evidence--
the first apparently without any appreciable variation, but the
display
of the second depending upon the number of really devotional people who
formed
part of the congregation.
The
elevation of the Host immediately after its consecration was not the only
occasion
upon which this display of force took place. When the benediction was
given
with the Blessed Sacrament exactly the same thing happened. On several
occasions
I followed the procession of the Host through the streets, and every
time
that a halt was made at some half-ruined church and the benediction was
given
from its steps, precisely the same double phenomenon was produced. I
observed
that the reserved Host upon the altar of the church was all day long
steadily
pouring forth the former of the two influences, though not so strongly
as
at the moment of elevation or benediction. One might say that the light
glowed
upon the altar without ceasing, but shone forth as a sun at those moments
of
special effort. The action of the second forces, the second ray of light,
could
also be evoked from the reserved Sacrament upon the altar, apparently at
any
time, though it seemed to me somewhat less vivid than the outpouring
immediately
after the consecration.
Everything
connected with the Host-- the tabernacle, the monstrance, the altar
itself,
the priest' s vestments, the insulating humeral veil, the chalice and
paten--
all were strongly charged with this tremendous magnetism, and all were
radiating
it forth, each in its degree.
A
third effect is that which is produced upon the communicant. He who receives
into
his body a part of that dazzling centre, from which flow the light and the
fire,
becomes himself for the time a similar centre, and radiates power in his
turn.
The tremendous waves of force which he has thus drawn into the closest
possible
association with himself cannot but seriously influence his higher
bodies.
For the time these waves raise his vibrations into harmony with
themselves,
thus producing a feeling of intense exaltation. This, however, is a
considerable
strain upon his various vehicles, which naturally tend gradually to
fall
back again to their normal rates. For a long time the indescribably vivid
higher
influence struggles against this tendency to slow down, but the dead
weight
of the comparatively enormous mass of the man' s own ordinary undulations
acts
as a drag upon even its tremendous energy, and gradually brings it and
themselves
down to the common level. But undoubtedly every such experience draws
the
man just an infinitesimal fraction higher than he was before. He has been
for
a few moments or even for a few hours in direct contact with the forces of a
world
far higher than any that he himself can otherwise touch.
Naturally,
having watched all this, I then proceeded to make further
investigations
as to how far this outflowing of force was affected by the
character,
the knowledge or the intention of the priest. I may sum up briefly
the
results of the examination of a large number of cases in the form of two or
three
axioms, which will no doubt at first sight seem surprising to many of my
readers.
ORDINATION
First,
only those priests who have been lawfully ordained, and have the
apostolic
succession, can produce this effect at all. Other men, not being part
of
this definite organisation, cannot perform this feat, no matter how devoted
or
good or saintly they may be. Secondly, neither the character of the priest,
nor
his knowledge, nor ignorance as to what he is really doing, affects the
result
in any way whatever.
If
one thinks of it, neither of these statements ought to seem to us in any way
astonishing,
since it is obviously a question of being able to perform a certain
action,
and only those who have passed through a certain ceremony have received
the
gift of the ability to perform it. Just in the same way, in order to be able
to
speak to a certain set of people one must know their language, and a man who
does
not know that language cannot communicate with them, no matter how good and
earnest
and devoted he may be. Also, his ability to communicate with them is not
affected
by his private character, but only by the one fact that he has, or has
not,
the power to speak to them which is conferred by a knowledge of their
language.
I do not for a moment say that these other considerations are without
their
due effect; I shall speak of that later, but what I do say is that no one
can
draw upon this particular reservoir unless he has received the power to do
so
which comes from a due appointment given according to the direction left by
the
Christ.
I
think that we can see a very good reason why precisely this arrangement has
been
made. Some plan was needed which should put a splendid outpouring of force
within
the reach of every one simultaneously in thousands of churches all over
the
world. I do not say that it might not be possible for a man of most
exceptional
power and holiness to call down through the strength of his devotion
an
amount of higher force commensurate with that obtained through the rites
which
I have described. But men of such exceptional power are always excessively
rare,
and it could never at any time of the world' s history have been possible
to
find enough of them simultaneously to fill even one thousandth part of the
places
where they are needed. But here is a plan whose arrangement is to a
certain
extent mechanical; it is ordained that a certain act when duly performed
shall
be the recognised method of bringing down the force; and this can be done
with
comparatively little training by any one upon whom the power is conferred.
A
strong man is needed to pump up water, but any child can turn on a tap. It
needs
a strong man to make a door and to hang it in its place, but when it is
once
on its hinges any child can open it.
Having
myself been a priest of the Church of England, and knowing how keen are
the
disputes as to whether that Church really has the apostolic succession or
not,
I was naturally interested in discovering whether its priests possessed
this
power. I was much pleased to find that they did, and I suppose we may take
that
as definitely settling the much-disputed Parker question, and with it the
whole
controversy as to the authenticity of the Orders of the Church of England.
I
soon found by examination that ministers of what are commonly called
dissenting
sects did not possess this power, no matter how good and earnest they
might
be. Their goodness and earnestness produced plenty of other effects which
I
shall presently describe, but their efforts did not draw upon the particular
reservoir
to which I have referred.
I
was especially interested in the case of one such minister whom I knew
personally
to be a good and devout man, and also a well-read Theosophist. Here
was
a man who knew much more about the real meaning of the act of consecration
than
nine hundred and ninety-nine out of a thousand of the priests who
constantly
perform it; and yet I am bound to admit that his best effort did not
produce
this particular effect, while the others as unquestionably did. (Once
more,
of course he produced other things which they did not-- of which more
anon.)
That at first somewhat surprised me, but I soon saw that it could not
have
been otherwise. Suppose, for example, that a certain sum of money is left
by
a rich Freemason for distribution among his poorer brethren, the law would
never
sanction the division of that money among any others than the Freemasons
for
whom it was intended; and the fact that other poor people outside the
Masonic
body might be more devout or more deserving would not weigh with it in
the
slightest degree.
Another
point which interested me greatly was the endeavour to discover to what
extent,
if at all, the intention of the priest affected the result produced. In
the
Roman Church I found many priests who went through the ceremony somewhat
mechanically,
and as a matter of daily duty, without any decided thought on the
subject;
but whether from ingrained reverence or from long habit, they always
seemed
to recover themselves just before the moment of consecration and to
perform
that act with a definite intention.
THE
ANGLICAN CHURCH
I
turned then to what is called the Low Church division of the Anglican
community
to see what would happen with them, because I knew that many of them
would
reject altogether the name of priest, and though they might follow the
rubric
in performing the act of consecration, their intention in doing it would
be
exactly the same as that of ministers of various denominations outside the
Church.
Yet I found that the Low Churchman could and did produce the effect, and
that
the others outside did not. Hence I infer that the ` intention' which is
always
said to be required must be no more than the intention to do whatever the
Church
means, without reference to the private opinion of the particular priest
as
to what that meaning is. I have no doubt that many people will think that all
this
ought to be quite differently arranged, but I can only report faithfully
what
my investigations have shown me to be the fact.
I
must not for a moment be understood as saying that the devotion and
earnestness,
the knowledge and the good character of the officiant make no
difference.
They make a great difference; but they do not affect the power to
draw
from that particular reservoir. When the priest is earnest and devoted his
whole
feeling radiates out upon his people and calls forth similar feelings in
such
of them as are capable of expressing them. Also his devotion calls down its
inevitable
response, as shown in the illustration in Thought-Forms, and the
down-pouring
of force thus evoked benefits his congregation as well as himself;
so
that a priest who throws his heart and soul into the work which he does may
be
said to bring a double blessing upon his people, though the second class of
influence
can scarcely be considered as being of the same order of magnitude as
the
first. This second outpouring, which is drawn down by devotion itself, is of
course
to be found just as often outside the Church as within it.
Another
factor to be taken into account is the feeling of the congregation. If
their
feeling is devout and reverent it is of immense help to their teacher, and
it
enormously increases the amount of spiritual energy poured down as a response
to
devotion. The average intellectual level of the congregation is also a matter
to
be considered, for a man who is intelligent as well as pious has within him a
devotion
of a higher order than his more ignorant brother, and is therefore able
to
evoke a fuller response. On the other hand in many places of worship where
much
is made of the exercise of the intellectual faculties-- where for example
the
sermon and not the service is thought of as the principal feature-- there is
scarcely
any real devotion, but instead of it a horrible spirit of criticism and
of
spiritual pride which effectually prevents the unfortunate audience from
obtaining
any good results at all from what they regard as their spiritual
exercises.
Devotional
feeling or carelessness, belief or scepticism on the part of the
congregation
make no difference whatever to the downflow from on high when there
is
a priest in charge who has the requisite qualifications to draw from the
appointed
reservoir. But naturally these factors make a difference as to the
number
of rays sent out from the consecrated Host, and so to the general
atmosphere
of the Church.
THE
MUSIC
Another
very important factor in the effect produced is the music which is used
in
the course of the service. Those who have read Thought-Forms will remember
the
striking drawings that are there given of the enormous and splendid mental,
astral
and etheric erections which are built up by the influence of sound. The
general
action of sound is a question which I shall take up in another chapter,
touching
here only upon that side of it which belongs to the services of the
Church.
Here
is another direction, unsuspected by the majority of those who participate
in
them, in which these services are capable of producing a wonderful and
powerful
effect. The devotion of the Church has always centred principally round
the
offering of the Mass as an act of the highest and purest adoration possible,
and
consequently the most exalted efforts of its greatest composers have been in
connection
with this service also. Here we may see one more example of the
wisdom
with which the arrangements were originally made, and of the crass
ineptitude
of those who have so blunderingly endeavoured to improve them.
THE
THOUGHT-FORMS
Each
of the great services of the Church (and more especially the celebration of
the
Eucharist) was originally designed to build up a mighty ordered form,
expressing
and surrounding a central idea-- a form which would facilitate and
direct
the radiation of the influence upon the entire village which was grouped
round
the church. The idea of the service may be said to be a double one: to
receive
and distribute the great outpouring of spiritual force, and to gather up
the
devotion of the people, and offer it before the throne of God.
In
the case of the Mass as celebrated by the Roman or the Greek Church, the
different
parts of the service are grouped round the central act of consecration
distinctly
with a view to the symmetry of the great form produced, as well as to
their
direct effect upon the worshippers. The alterations made in the English
Prayer
Book in 1552 were evidently the work of people who were ignorant of this
side
of the question, for they altogether disturbed that symmetry-- which is one
reason
why it is an eminently desirable thing for the Church of England that it
should
as speedily as possible so arrange its affairs as to obtain permission to
use
as an alternative the Mass of King Edward VI according to the Prayer Book of
1549.
One
of the most important effects of the Church Service, both upon the immediate
congregation
and upon the surrounding district, has always been the creation of
these
beautiful and devotional thought-forms, through which the downpouring of
life
and strength from higher worlds can more readily take effect. These are
better
made and their efficiency enhanced when a considerable portion of those
who
take part in the service do so with intelligent comprehension, yet even when
the
devotion is ignorant the result is still beautiful and uplifting.
Most
of the sects, which unhappily broke away from the Church, entirely lost
sight
of this inner and more important side of public worship. The idea of the
service
offered to God almost disappeared, and its place was largely taken by
the
fanatical preaching of narrow theological dogmas which were always
unimportant
and frequently ridiculous. Readers have sometimes expressed surprise
that
those who write from the occult standpoint should seem so decidedly to
favour
the practices of the Church, rather than those of the various sects whose
thought
is in many ways more liberal. The reason is shown precisely in this
consideration
of the inner side of things on which we are now engaged.
The
occult student recognises most fully the value of the effort which made
liberty
of conscience and of thought possible; yet he cannot but see that those
who
cast aside the splendid old forms and services of the Church lost in that
very
act almost the whole of the occult side of their religion, and made of it
essentially
a selfish and limited thing-- a question chiefly of “personal
salvation”
for the individual, instead of the grateful offering of worship to
God,
which is in itself the never-failing channel through which the Divine Love
is
poured forth upon all.
The
attainment of mental freedom was a necessary step in the process of human
evolution;
the clumsy and brutal manner in which it was obtained, and the
foolishness
of the excesses into which gross ignorance led its champions, are
responsible
for many of the deplorable results which we see at the present day.
The
same savage, senseless lust for wanton destruction that moved Cromwell' s
brutal
soldiers to break priceless statues and irreplaceable stained glass, has
deprived
us also of the valuable effect produced in higher worlds by perpetual
prayers
for the dead, and by the practically universal devotion of the common
people
to the saints and angels. Then the great mass of the people was
religious--
even though ignorantly religious; now it is frankly and even
boastfully
irreligious. Perhaps this transitory stage is a necessary one, but it
can
hardly be considered in itself either beautiful or satisfactory.
THE
EFFECT OF DEVOTION
No
other service has an effect at all comparable to that of the celebration of
the
Mass, but the great musical forms may of course appear at any service where
music
is used. In all the other services (except indeed the Catholic Benediction
of
the Blessed Sacrament) the thought-forms developed and the general good which
is
done depend to a great extent upon the devotion of the people. Now devotion,
whether
individual or collective, varies much in quality. The devotion of the
primitive
savage, for example, is usually greatly mingled with fear, and the
chief
idea in his mind in connection with it is to appease a deity who might
otherwise
prove vindictive. But little better than this is much of the devotion
of
men who consider themselves civilised, for it is a kind of unholy bargain--
the
offering to the Deity of a certain amount of devotion if He on His side will
extend
a certain amount of protection or assistance.
Such
devotion, being entirely selfish and grasping in its nature, produces
results
only in the lower types of astral matter, and exceedingly
unpleasant-looking
results they are in many cases. The thought-forms which they
create
are often shaped like grappling-hooks, and their forces move always in
closed
curves, reacting only upon the man who sends them forth, and bringing
back
to him whatever small result they may be able to achieve. The true, pure,
unselfish
devotion is an outrush of feeling which never returns to the man who
gave
it forth, but constitutes itself in very truth a cosmic force producing
widespread
results in higher worlds.
Though
the force itself never returns, the man who originates it becomes the
centre
of a downpour of divine energy which comes in response, and so in his act
of
devotion he has truly blessed himself, even though at the same time he has
also
blessed many others as well, and in addition to that has had the unequalled
honour
of contributing to the mighty reservoir of the Nirmanakaya. Anyone who
possesses
the book Thought-Forms may see in it an attempt to represent the
splendid
blue spire made by devotion of this type as it rushes upwards, and he
will
readily understand how it opens a way for a definite outpouring of the
divine
force of the Solar Deity.
He
is pouring forth His wonderful vital energy on every level in every world,
and
naturally the outpouring belonging to a higher world is stronger and fuller
and
less restricted than that upon the world below. Normally, each wave of this
great
force acts in its own world alone, and cannot or does not move
transversely
from one world to another; but it is precisely by means of
unselfish
thought and feeling, whether it be of devotion or of affection, that a
temporary
channel is provided through which the force normally belonging to a
higher
world may descend to a lower, and may produce there results which,
without
it, could never have come to pass.
Every
man who is truly unselfish frequently makes himself such a channel, though
of
course on a comparatively small scale; but the mighty act of devotion of a
whole
vast congregation, where it is really united, and utterly without thought
of
self, produces the same result on an enormously greater scale. Sometimes
though
rarely, this occult side of religious services may be seen in full
activity,
and no one who has even once had the privilege of seeing such a
splendid
manifestation as this can for a moment doubt the hidden side of a
Church
service is of an importance infinitely greater than anything purely
physical.
Such
an one would see the dazzling blue spiral or dome of the highest type of
astral
matter rushing upwards into the sky, far above the image of it in stone
which
sometimes crowns the physical edifice in which the worshippers are
gathered;
he would see the blinding glory which pours down through it and
spreads
out like a great flood of living light over all the surrounding region.
Naturally,
the diameter and the height of the spire of devotion determine the
opening
made for the descent of the higher life, while the force which expresses
itself
in the rate at which the devotional energy rushes upwards has its
relation
to the rate at which the corresponding down-pouring can take place. The
sight
is indeed a wonderful one, and he who sees it can never doubt again that
the
unseen influences are more than the seen, nor can he fail to realise that
the
world which goes on its way heedless of the devotional man, or perhaps even
scornful
of him, owes to him all the time far more than it knows.
The
power of the ordained priest is a reality in other ceremonies than the
celebration
of the eucharist. The consecration of the water in the rite of
baptism,
or of the holy water which is to be distributed to the faithful or kept
at
the entrance of the church, pours into it a strong influence, which enables
it
in each case to perform the part assigned to it. The same is true of other
consecrations
and benedictions which come in the course of the regular work of
the
priest, though in many of these it seems that a somewhat larger proportion
of
the effect is produced by the direct magnetism of the priest himself, and the
amount
of that of course depends upon the energy and earnestness with which he
performs
his part of the ceremony.
HOLY
WATER
We
shall find it interesting to study the hidden side of some of these minor
services
of the Church, and the work done by her priests. Into the making of
holy
water, for example, the mesmeric element enters very strongly. The priest
first
takes clean water and clean salt, and then proceeds to demagnetise them,
to
remove from them any casual exterior influences with which they may have been
permeated.
Having done this very thoroughly, he then charges them with spiritual
power,
each separately and with many earnest repetitions, and then finally with
further
fervent adjurations he casts the salt into the water in the form of a
cross,
and the operation is finished.
If
this ceremony be properly and carefully performed the water becomes a highly
effective
talisman for the special purposes for which it is charged-- that it
shall
drive away from the man who uses it all worldly and warring thought, and
shall
turn him in the direction of purity and devotion. The student of occultism
will
readily comprehend how this must be so, and when he sees with astral sight
the
discharge of the higher force which takes place when anyone uses or
sprinkles
this holy water, he will have no difficulty in realising that it must
be
a powerful factor in driving away undesirable thought and feeling, and
quelling
all irregular vibrations of the astral and mental bodies.
In
every case where the priest does his work the spiritual force flows through,
but
he may add greatly to it by the fervour of his own devotion, and the
vividness
with which he realises what he is doing.
BAPTISM
The
sacrament of baptism, as originally administered, had a real and beautiful
hidden
side. In those older days the water was magnetised with a special view to
the
effect of its vibrations upon the higher vehicles, so that all the germs of
good
qualities in the unformed astral and mental bodies of the child might
thereby
receive a strong stimulus, while at the same time the germs of evil
might
be isolated and deadened. The central idea no doubt was to take this early
opportunity
of fostering the growth of the good germs, in order that their
development
might precede that of the evil-- in order that when at a later
period
the latter germs begin to bear their fruit, the good might already be so
far
evolved that the control of the evil would be a comparatively easy matter.
This
is one side of the baptismal ceremony; it has also another aspect, as
typical
of the Initiation towards which it is hoped that the young member of the
Church
will direct his steps as he grows up. It is a consecration and a setting
apart
of the new set of vehicles to the true expression of the soul within, and
to
the service of the Great White Brotherhood; yet is also has its occult side
with
regard to these new vehicles themselves, and when the ceremony is properly
and
intelligently performed there can be no doubt that its effect is a powerful
one.
UNION
IS STRENGTH
The
economy and efficiency of the whole scheme of the Lord Maitreya depend upon
the
fact that much greater powers can easily be arranged for a small body of
men,
who are spiritually prepared to receive them, than could possibly be
universally
distributed without a waste of energy which could not be
contemplated
for a moment. In the Hindu scheme, for example, every man is a
priest
for his own household, and therefore we have to deal with millions of
such
priests of all possible varieties of temperament, and not in any way
specially
prepared. The scheme of the ordination of priests gives a certain
greater
power to a limited number, who have by that very ordination been
specially
set apart for the work.
Carrying
the same principle a little further, a set of still higher powers are
given
to a still smaller number-- the bishops. They are made channels for the
force
which confers ordination, and for the much smaller manifestation of the
same
force which accompanies the rite of confirmation. The hidden side of these
ceremonies
is always one of great interest to the student of the realities of
life.
There are many cases now, unfortunately, where all these things are mere
matters
of form, and though that does not prevent their result, it does minimise
it;
but where the old forms are used as they were meant to be used, the unseen
effect
is out of all proportion to anything that is visible in the physical
world.
CONSECRATION
To
the bishop also is restricted the power of consecrating a church or a
churchyard,
and the occult side of this is a really pretty sight. It is
interesting
to watch the growth of the sort of fortification which the officiant
builds
as he marches round uttering the prescribed prayers and verses; to note
the
expulsion of any ordinary thought-forms which may happen to have been there,
and
the substitution for them of the orderly and devotional forms to which
henceforth
this building is supposed to be dedicated.
THE
BELLS
There
are many minor consecrations which are of great interest-- the blessing of
bells,
for example. The ringing of bells has a distinct part in the scheme of
the
Church,, which in these days seems but little understood. The modern theory
appears
to be that they are meant to call people together at the time when the
service
is about to be performed, and there is no doubt that in the Middle Ages,
when
there were no clocks or watches, they were put to precisely this use. From
this
restricted view of the intention of the bell has grown the idea that
anything
which makes a noise will serve the purpose, and in most towns of
England
Sunday morning is made into a purgatory by the simultaneous but
discordant
clanging of a number of unmusical lumps of metal.
At
intervals we recognise the true use of the bells, as when we employ them on
great
festivals or on occasions of public rejoicing; for a peal of musical
bells,
sounding harmonious notes, is the only thing which was contemplated by
the
original plan, and these were intended to have a double influence. Some
remnant
of this still remains, though but half understood, in the science of
campanology,
and those who know the delights of the proper performance of a
trip-bob-major
or a grandsire-bob-cator will perhaps be prepared to hear how
singularly
perfect and magnificent are the forms which are made by them.
This
then was one of the effects which the ordered ringing of the bells was
intended
to produce. It was to throw out a stream of musical forms repeated over
and
over again, in precisely the same way, and for precisely the same purpose,
as
the Christian monk repeats hundreds of Ave Marias or the northern Buddhist
spends
much of his life in reiterating the mystic syllables Om Mani Padme Hum,
or
many a Hindu makes a background to his life by reciting the name Sita Ram.
A
particular thought-form and its meaning were in this way impressed over and
over
again upon all the astral bodies within hearing. The blessing of the bells
was
intended to add an additional quality to these undulations, of whatever kind
they
may have been. The ringing of the bells in different order would naturally
produce
different forms; but whatever the forms may be, they are produced by the
vibration
of the same bells, and if these bells are, to begin with, strongly
charged
with a certain type of magnetism, every form made by them will bear with
it
something of that influence. It is as though the wind which wafts to us
snatches
of music should at the same time bear with it a subtle perfume. So the
bishop
who blesses the bells charges them with much the same intent as he would
bless
holy water-- with the intention that, wherever this sound shall go, all
evil
thought and feeling shall be banished and harmony and devotion shall
prevail--
a real exercise of magic, and quite effective when the magician does
his
work properly.
The
sacring bell, which is rung inside the church, at the moment of the reciting
of
the Tersanctus or the elevation of the Host, has a different intention. In
the
huge cathedrals which mediaeval piety erected, it was impossible for all the
worshippers
to hear what the priest was saying in the recitation of the Mass,
even
before the present system of what is called “recitation in secret” was
adopted.
And therefore the server, who is close to the altar and follows the
movements
of the priest, has it among his duties to announce in this way to the
congregation
when these critical points of the service are reached.
The
bell which is often rung in Hindu or Buddhist temples has yet another
intention.
The original thought here was a beautiful and altruistic one. When
some
one had just uttered an act of devotion or made an offering, there came
down
in reply to that a certain outpouring of spiritual force. This charged the
bell
among other objects, and the idea of the man who struck it was that by so
doing
he would spread abroad, as far as the sound of the bell could reach, the
vibration
of this higher influence while it was still fresh and strong. Now it
is
to be feared that the true signification has been so far forgotten that there
are
actually some who believe it necessary in order to attract the attention of
their
deity!
INCENSE
The
same idea carried out in a different way shows itself to us in the blessing
of
the incense before it is burned. For the incense has always a dual
significance.
It ascends before God as a symbol of the prayers of the people;
but
also it spreads through the church as a symbol of the sweet savour of the
blessing
of God, and so once more the priest pours into it a holy influence with
the
idea that wherever its scent may penetrate, wherever the smallest particle
of
that which has been blessed may pass, it shall bear with it a feeling of
peace
and of purity, and shall chase away all inharmonious thoughts and
sensations.
Even
apart from the blessing, its influence is good, for it is carefully
compounded
from gums the undulation-rate of which harmonises perfectly with
spiritual
and devotional vibrations, but is distinctly hostile to almost all
others.
The magnetisation may merely intensify its natural characteristics, or
may
add to it other special oscillations, but in any case its use in connection
with
religious ceremonies is always good. The scent of sandalwood has many of
the
same characteristics; and the scent of pure attar of roses, though utterly
different
in character, has also a good effect.
Another
point which is to a large extent new in the scheme prepared by its
Founder
for the Christian Church is the utilisation of the enormous force which
exists
in united synchronous action. In Hindu or Buddhist temples each man comes
when
he chooses, makes his little offering or utters his few words of prayer and
praise,
and then retires. Result follows each such effort in proportion to the
energy
of real feeling put into it, and in this way a fairly constant stream of
tiny
consequences is achieved; but we never get the massive effect produced by
the
simultaneous efforts of a congregation of hundreds or thousands of people,
or
the heart-stirring vibrations which accompany the singing of some well known
processional
hymn.
By
thus working together at a service we obtain four separate objects. (1)
Whatever
is the aim of the invocatory part of the service, a large number of
people
join in asking for it, and so send out a huge thought-form. (2) A
correspondingly
large amount of force flows in and stimulates the spiritual
faculties
of the people. (3) The simultaneous effort synchronises the
undulations
of their bodies, and so makes them more receptive. (4) Their
attention
being directed to the same object, they work together and thus
stimulate
one another.
SERVICES
FOR THE DEAD
What
I have said in the earlier part of this chapter will explain a feature
which
is often misunderstood by those who ridicule the Church-- the offering of
a
Mass with a certain intention, or on behalf of a certain dead person. The idea
is
that that person shall benefit by the downpouring of force which comes on
that
particular occasion, and undoubtedly he does so benefit, for the strong
thought
about him cannot but attract his attention, and when he is in that way
drawn
to the church he takes part in the ceremony and enjoys a large share of
its
result. Even if he is still in a condition of unconsciousness, as sometime
happens
to the newly-dead, the exertion of the priest' s will (or his earnest
prayer,
which is the same thing) directs the stream of force towards the person
for
whom it is intended. Such an effort is a perfectly legitimate act of
invocatory
magic; unfortunately an entirely illegitimate and evil element is
often
imported into the transaction by the exaction of a fee for the exercise of
this
occult power-- a thing which is always inadmissible.
OTHER
RELIGIONS
I
have been trying to expound something of the inner meaning of the ceremonies
of
the Christian Church-- taking that, in the first place because it is with
that
that I am most familiar, and in the second place because it presents some
interesting
features which in their present form may be said to be new ideas
imported
into the scheme of things by our present Bodhisattva. I do not wish it
to
be supposed that I have expounded the Christian ceremonies because I regard
that
religion as in any way the best expression of universal truth; the fact
that
I, who am one of its priests, have publicly proclaimed myself a Buddhist,
shows
clearly that that is not my opinion.
So
far as its teaching goes, Christianity is probably more defective than any
other
of the great religions, with perhaps the doubtful exception of
Muhammadanism;
but that is not because of any neglect on the part of the
original
Founder to make His system a perfectly arranged exposition of the
truth,
but because most unfortunately the ignorant majority of the early
Christians
cast out from among themselves the great Gnostic Doctors, and thereby
left
themselves with a sadly mutilated doctrine. The Founder may perhaps have
foreseen
this failure, for He supplied His Church with a system of magic which
would
continue to work mechanically, even though His people should forget much
of
the early meaning of what He had taught them; and it is precisely the force
which
has lain behind this mechanical working which explains the remarkable hold
so
long maintained by a Church which intellectually has nothing to give to its
followers.
Those
who profess other religions must not then suppose that I mean any
disrespect
to their faiths because I have chosen for exposition that with which
I
am most familiar. The general principles of the action of ceremonial magic
which
I have laid down are equally true for all religions, and each must apply
them
for himself.
THE
ORDERS OF CLERGY
Perhaps
I ought to explain, for the benefit of our Indian readers, that there
are
three orders among the Christian clergy-- bishops, priests and deacons. When
a
man is first ordained he is admitted as a deacon, which means, practically, a
kind
of apprentice or assistant priest. He has not yet the power to consecrate
the
sacrament, to bless the people or to forgive their sins; he can, however,
baptise
children, but even a layman is permitted to do that in case of
emergency.
After a year in the diaconate he is eligible for ordination as a
priest,
and it is this second ordination which confers upon him the power to
draw
forth the force from the reservoir of which I have spoken. To him is then
given
the power to consecrate the Host and also various other objects, to bless
the
people in the name of the Christ, and to pronounce the forgiveness of their
sins.
In addition to all these powers, the bishop has that of ordaining other
priests,
and so carrying on the apostolic succession. He alone has the right to
administer
the rite of confirmation, and to consecrate a church, that is to say,
to
set it apart for the service of God. These three are the only orders which
mean
definite grades, separated from one another by ordinations which confer
different
powers . You may hear many titles applied to the Christian clergy,
such
as those of archbishop, archdeacon, dean or canon, but these are only the
titles
of offices, and involve differences of duty, but not of grade in the
sense
of spiritual power.
-------Cardiff Theosophical Society in Wales-------
206 Newport Road, Cardiff, Wales, UK. CF24-1DL
http://www.theosophywales.org.uk http://www.theosophycardiff.org
CHAPTER IX
BY
SOUNDS
SOUND,
COLOUR AND FORM
WE
have considered the influences radiating from the walls of our churches, and
the
effect of the ceremonies performed within them; it still remains for us to
mention
the hidden side of the music of their services.
There
are many people who realise that sound always generates colour-- that
every
note which is played or sung has overtones which produce the effect of
light
when seen by an eye even slightly clairvoyant. Not every one, however,
knows
that sounds also build form just as thoughts do. Yet this is nevertheless
the
case. It was long ago shown that sound gives rise to form in the physical
world
by singing a certain note into a tube across the end of which was
stretched
a membrane upon which fine sand or lycopodium powder had been cast.
In
this way it was proved that each sound threw the sand into a certain definite
shape,
and that the same note always produced the same shape. It is not,
however,
with forms caused in this way that we are dealing just now, but with
those
built up in etheric, astral and mental matter, which persist and continue
in
vigorous action long after the sound itself has died away, so far as physical
ears
are concerned.
RELIGIOUS
MUSIC
Let
us take, for example, the hidden side of the performance of a piece of
music--
say the playing of a voluntary upon a church organ. This has its effect
in
the physical world upon those of the worshippers who have an ear for music--
who
have educated themselves to understand and to appreciate it. But many people
who
do not understand it and have no technical knowledge of the subject are yet
conscious
of a very decided effect which it produces upon them.
The
clairvoyant student is in no way surprised at this, for he sees that each
piece
of music as it is performed upon the organ builds up gradually an enormous
edifice
in etheric, astral and mental matter, extending away above the organ and
far
through the roof of the church like a kind of castellated mountain-range,
all
composed of glorious flashing colours coruscating and blazing in a most
marvellous
manner, like the aurora borealis in the arctic regions. The nature of
this
differs very much in the case of different composers. An overture by Wagner
makes
always a magnificent whole with splendid splashes of vivid colour, as
though
he built with mountains of flame for stones; one of Bach' s fugues builds
up
a mighty ordered form, bold yet precise, rugged but symmetrical, with
parallel
rivulets of silver or gold or ruby running through it, marking the
successive
appearances of motif ; one of Mendelssohn' s Lieder ohne Worte makes
a
lovely airy erection-- a sort of castle of filigree work in frosted silver.
In
the book called Thought-Forms will be found three illustrations in colour, in
which
we have endeavoured to depict the forms built by pieces of music by
Mendelssohn,
Gounod and Wagner respectively, and I would refer the reader to
these,
for this is one of the cases in which it is quite impossible to imagine
the
appearance of the form without actually seeing it or some representation of
it.
It may some day be possible to issue a book containing studies of a number
of
such forms, for the purpose of careful examination and comparison. It is
evident
that the study of such sound forms would be a science in itself, and one
of
surpassing interest.
These
forms, created by the performers of the music, must not be confounded with
the
magnificent thought-form which the composer himself made as the expression
of
his own music in the higher worlds. This is a production worthy of the great
mind
from which it emanated, and often persists for many years-- some times even
over
centuries, if the composer is so far understood and appreciated that his
original
conception is strengthened by the thoughts of his admirers. In the same
manner,
though with wide difference of type, magnificent erections are
constructed
in higher worlds by a great poet' s idea of his epic, or a great
writer'
s idea of the subject which he means to put before his readers-- such,
for
example, as Wagner' s immortal trilogy of The Ring, Dante' s grand
representation
of purgatory and paradise, and Ruskin' s conception of what art
ought
to be and of what he desired to make it.
The
forms made by the performance of the music persist for a considerable space
of
time, varying from one hour to three or four, and all the time they are
sending
out radiations which assuredly influence for good every soul within a
radius
of half a mile or more. Not that the soul necessarily knows it, nor that
the
influence is at all equal in all cases. The sensitive person is greatly
uplifted,
while the dull and preoccupied man is but little affected. Still,
however
unconsciously, each person must be a little the better for coming under
such
an influence. Naturally the undulations extend much farther than the
distance
named, but beyond that they grow rapidly weaker, and in a great city
they
are soon drowned in the rush of swirling currents which fill the astral
world
in such places. In the quiet country amidst the fields and the trees the
edifice
lasts proportionately much longer, and its influence has a wider area.
Sometimes
in such a case those who can, may see crowds of beautiful
nature-spirits
admiring the splendid forms built by the music, and bathing with
delight
in the waves of influence which they send forth. It is surely a
beautiful
thought that every organist who does his work well, and throws his
whole
soul into what he plays, is thus doing far more good than he knows, and
helping
many whom perhaps he never saw and never will know in this life.
Another
point which is interesting in this connection is the difference between
the
edifices built by the same music when rendered upon different instruments--
as,
for example, the difference in appearance of the form built by a certain
piece
when played upon a church organ and the same piece executed by an
orchestra
or by a violin quartet, or played on a piano. In these cases the form
is
identical if the music be equally well rendered, but the whole texture is
different;
and naturally, in the case of the violin quartet, the size of the
form
is far less, because the volume of sound is so much less. The form built by
the
piano is often somewhat larger than that of the violins, but is not so
accurate
in detail, and its proportions are less perfect. Again, a decided
difference
in texture is visible between the effect of a violin solo and the
same
solo played upon the flute.
Surrounding
and blending with these forms, although perfectly distinct from
them,
are the forms of thought and feeling produced by human beings under the
influence
of the music. The size and vividness of these depend upon the
appreciativeness
of the audience and the extent to which they are affected.
Sometimes
the form built by the sublime conception of a master of harmony stands
alone
in its beauty, unattended and unnoticed, because such mental faculties as
the
congregation may possess are entirely absorbed in millinery or the
calculations
of the money-market; while on the other hand the chain of simple
forms
built by the force of some well-known hymn may in some cases be almost
hidden
by great blue clouds of devotional feeling evoked from the hearts of the
singers.
Another
factor which determines the appearance of the edifice constructed by a
piece
of music is the quality of the performance. The thought-form left hanging
over
a church after the performance of the Hallelujah Chorus infallibly and
distinctly
shows, for example, if the bass solo has been flat, or if any of the
parts
have been noticeably weaker than the others, as in either case there is an
obvious
failure in the symmetry and clearness of the form. Naturally there are
types
of music whose forms are anything but lovely, though even these have their
interest
as objects of study. The curious broken shapes which surround an
academy
for young ladies at the pupils' practising hour are at least remarkable
and
instructive, if not beautiful; and the chains thrown out in lasso-like loops
and
curves by the child who is industriously playing scales or arpeggios are by
no
means without their charm, when there are no broken or missing links.
SINGING
A
song with a chorus constructs a form in which a number of beads are strung at
equal
distances upon a silver thread of melody, the size of the beads of course
depending
upon the strength of the chorus, just as the luminosity and beauty of
the
connecting thread depend upon the voice and expression of the solo singer,
while
the form into which the thread is plaited depends upon the character of
the
melody. Of great interest also are the variations in metallic texture
produced
by different qualities of voice-- the contrast between the soprano and
the
tenor, the alto and the bass, and again the difference between a boy' s
voice
and a woman' s. Very beautiful also is the intertwining of these four
threads
(quite unlike in colour and in texture) in the singing of a glee or a
part-song,
or their ordered and yet constantly varied march side by side in the
singing
of a hymn.
A
processional hymn builds a series of rectangular forms drawn with mathematical
precision,
following one another in definite order like the links of some mighty
chain--
or still more (unpoetical though it sounds) like the carriages of some
huge
train belonging to the astral world. Very striking also is the difference
in
ecclesiastical music, between the broken though glittering fragments of the
Anglican
chant, and the splendid glowing uniformity of the Gregorian tone. Not
unlike
the latter is the effect produced by the monotonous chanting of Sanskrit
verses
by pandits in India.
It
may be asked here how far the feeling of the musician himself affects the
form
which is built by his efforts. His feelings do not, strictly speaking,
affect
the musical structure at all. If the delicacy and brilliancy of his
execution
remain the same, it makes no difference to that musical form whether
he
himself feels happy or miserable, whether his musings are grave or gay. His
emotions
naturally produce vibrant forms in astral matter, just as do those of
his
audience, but these merely surround the great shape built by the music, and
in
no way interfere with it. His comprehension of the music, and the skill of
his
rendering of it, show themselves in the edifice which he constructs. A poor
and
merely mechanical performance erects a structure which, though it may be
accurate
in form, is deficient in colour and luminosity-- a form which, as
compared
with the work of a real musician, gives a curios impression of being
constructed
of cheap materials. To obtain really grand results the performer
must
forget all about himself, must lose himself utterly in the music as only a
genius
may dare to do.
MILITARY
MUSIC
The
powerful and inspiring effect produced by military music is readily
comprehensible
to the clairvoyant who is able to see the long stream of
rhythmically
vibrating forms which is left behind by the band as it marches
along
at the head of the column. Not only does the regular beat of these
undulations
tend to strengthen those of the astral bodies of the soldiers, thus
training
them to move more strongly and in unison, but the very forms which are
created
themselves radiate strength and courage and material ardour, so that a
body
of men which before seemed to be hopelessly disorganised by fatigue, may in
this
way be pulled together again and endowed with a considerable accession of
strength.
It
is instructive to watch the mechanism of this change. A man who is utterly
exhausted
has to a great extent lost the power of co-ordination; the central
will
can no longer hold together and govern as it should the different parts of
the
body; every physical cell is complaining-- raising its own separate cry of
pain
and remonstrance; and the effect upon all the vehicles-- etheric, astral
and
mental-- is that a vast number of small separate vortices are set up, each
quivering
at its own rate, so that all the bodies are losing their cohesion and
their
power to do their work, to bear their part in the life of the man. Carried
to
its ultimate extreme this would mean death, but short of that it means utter
disorganisation
and the loss of the power to make the muscles obey the will.
When
upon the astral body in this condition there comes the impact of a
succession
of steady and powerful oscillations, that impact supplies for the
time
the place of the will-force which has so sorely slackened. The bodies are
once
more brought into synchronous vibration and are held so by the sweep of the
music,
thus giving the will-power an opportunity to recover itself and take
again
the command which it had so nearly abandoned.
So
marked and powerful are the waves sent forth by good military music that a
sensation
of positive pleasure is produced in those who move in obedience to
them,
just as effective dance-music arouses the desire for synchronous movement
in
all who hear it. The type of the instruments employed in military bands is
also
of a nature which adds greatly to this effect, the strength and sharpness
of
the vibration being obviously of far greater importance for those purposes
than
its delicacy or its power to express the finer emotions.
SOUNDS
IN NATURE
It
is not only the ordered arrangement of sound which we call music which
produces
definite form. Every sound in nature has its effect, and in some cases
these
effects are of the most remarkable character. The majestic roll of a
thunderstorm
creates usually a vast flowing band of colour, while the deafening
crash
often calls into temporary existence an arrangement of irregular
radiations
from a centre suggestive of an exploded bomb; or sometimes a huge
irregular
sphere with great spikes projecting from it in all directions. The
never-ceasing
beating of the sea upon the land fringes all earth' s coasts with
an
eternal canopy of wavy yet parallel lines of lovely changing colour, rising
into
tremendous mountain ranges when the sea is lashed by a storm. The rustling
of
the wind among the leaves of the forest covers it with a beautiful iridescent
network,
ever rising and falling with gentle wave-like movement, like the
passing
of the wind across a field of wheat.
Sometimes
this hovering cloud is pierced by curving lines and loops of light,
representing
the song of the birds, like fragments of a silver chain cast forth
and
ringing melodiously in the air. Of these there is an almost infinite
variety,
from the beautiful golden globes produced by the notes of the
campanero,
to the amorphous and coarsely-coloured mass which is the result of
the
scream of a parrot or of a macaw. The roar of the lion may be seen as well
as
heard by those whose eyes are opened; indeed, it is by no means impossible
that
some of the wild creatures possess this much of clairvoyance, and that the
terrifying
effect which is alleged to be produced by this sound may be largely
owing
to the radiations poured forth from the form to which it gives birth.
IN
DOMESTIC LIFE
In
more domestic life similar effects are observed; the purring cat surrounds
himself
with concentric rosy cloud-films which expand constantly outward until
they
dissipate, shedding an influence of drowsy contentment and well-being which
tends
to reproduce itself in the human beings about him. The barking dog, on the
other
hand, shoots forth well defined sharp-pointed projectiles which strike
with
a severe shock upon the astral bodies of those in his neighbourhood; and
this
is the reason of the extreme nervous irritation which this constantly
repeated
sound often produces in sensitive persons. The sharp, spiteful yap of
the
terrier discharges a series of forms not unlike the modern rifle bullet,
which
pierce the astral body in various directions, and seriously disturb its
economy;
while the deep bay of a bloodhound throws off beads like ostrich-eggs
or
footballs which are slower in motion and far less calculated to injure. Some
of
these canine missiles pierce like sword-thrusts, while some are duller and
heavier,
like the blows of a club, and they vary greatly in strength, but all
alike
are evil in their action upon the mental and astral bodies.
The
colour of these projectiles is usually some shade of red or brown, varying
with
the emotion of the animal and the key in which his voice is pitched. It is
instructive
to contrast with these the blunt-ended, clumsy shapes produced by
the
lowing of a cow-- forms which have often somewhat the appearance of logs of
wood
or fragments of a tree-trunk. A flock of sheep frequently surrounds itself
with
a many-pointed yet amorphous cloud of sound which is by no means unlike the
physical
dust-cloud which it raises as it moves along. The cooing of a pair of
doves
throws off a constant succession of graceful curved forms like the letter
S
reversed.
The
tones of the human voice also produce their results-- results which often
endure
long after the sounds which made them have died away. An angry
ejaculation
throws itself forth like a scarlet spear, and many a woman surrounds
herself
with an intricate network of hard, brown-grey metallic lines by the
stream
of silly meaningless chatter which she ceaselessly babbles forth. Such a
network
permits the passage of vibration only at its own low level; it is an
almost
perfect barrier against the impact of any of the higher and more
beautiful
thoughts and feelings. A glimpse of the astral body of a garrulous
person
is thus a striking object-lesson to the student of occultism, and it
teaches
him the virtue of speaking only when it is necessary, or when he has
something
pleasant and useful to say.
Another
instructive comparison is that between the forms produced by different
kinds
of laughter. The happy laughter of a child bubbles forth in rosy curves,
making
a kind of scalloped balloon shape-- an epicycloid of mirth. The ceaseless
guffaw
of the empty-minded causes an explosive effect in an irregular mass,
usually
brown or dirty green in colour-- according to the pre-dominant tint of
the
aura from which it emanates. The sneering laugh throws out a shapeless
projectile
of a dull red colour, usually flecked with brownish green and
bristling
with thorny-looking points. The constantly repeated cachinnations of
the
self-conscious create a very unpleasant result, surrounding them with what
in
appearance and colour resembles the surface of a pool of boiling mud. The
nervous
giggles of a school-girl often involve her in an unpleasant seaweed-like
tangle
of lines of brown and dull yellow, while the jolly-hearted, kindly laugh
of
genuine amusement usually billows out in rounded forms of gold and green. The
consequences
flowing from the bad habit of whistling are usually decidedly
unpleasant.
If it be soft and really musical it produces an effect not unlike
that
of a small flute, but sharper and more metallic: but the ordinary tuneless
horror
of the London street-boy sends out a series of small and piercing
projectiles
of dirty brown.
NOISES
An
enormous number of artificial noises (most of them transcendently hideous)
are
constantly being produced all about us, for our so-called civilisation is
surely
the noisiest with which earth has ever yet been cursed. These also have
their
unseen side, though it is rarely one which is pleasant to contemplate. The
strident
screech of a railway engine makes a far more penetrating and powerful
projectile
than even the barking of a dog; indeed, it is surpassed in horror
only
by the scream of the steam siren which is sometimes employed to call
together
the hands at a factory, or by the report of heavy artillery at close
quarters.
The railway whistle blows forth a veritable sword, with the added
disintegrating
power of a serious electrical shock, and its effect upon the
astral
body which is unfortunate enough to be within its reach is quite
comparable
to that of a sword-thrust upon the physical body. Fortunately for us,
astral
matter possesses many of the properties of a fluid, so that the wound
heals
after a few minutes have passed; but the effect of the shock upon the
astral
organism disappears by no means so readily.
The
flight through the landscape of a train which is not screaming is not wholly
unbeautiful,
for the heavy parallel lines which are drawn by the sound of its
onward
rush are as it were embroidered by the intermittent spheres or ovals
caused
by the puffing of the engine: so that a train seen in the distance
crossing
the landscape leaves behind it a temporary appearance of a strip of
Brobdingnagian
ribbon with a scalloped edging.
The
discharge of one of the great modern cannons is an explosion of sound just
as
surely as of gun-powder, and the tremendous radiation of impacts which it
throws
out to the radius of a mile or so is calculated to have a very serious
effect
upon astral currents and astral bodies. The rattle of rifle or pistol
fire
throws out a sheaf of small needles, which are also eminently undesirable
in
their effect.
It
is abundantly clear that all loud, sharp or sudden sounds should, as far as
possible,
be avoided by anyone who wishes to keep his astral and mental vehicles
in
good order. This is one among the many reasons which make the life of the
busy
city one to be avoided by the occult student, for its perpetual roar means
the
ceaseless beating of disintegrating vibrations upon each of his vehicles,
and
this is, of course, quite apart from the even more serious play of sordid
passions
and emotions which make dwelling in a main street like living beside an
open
sewer.
No
one who watches the effect of these repeated sound-forms upon the sensitive
astral
body can doubt that there must follow from them a serious permanent
result
which cannot fail to be to some extent communicated to the physical
nerves.
So serious and so certain is this, that I believe that if it were
possible
to obtain accurate statistics on such a point, we should find the
length
of life much shorter and the percentage of nervous breakdown and insanity
appreciably
higher among the inhabitants of a street paved with granite, than
among
those who have advantage of asphalt. The value and even the necessity of
quiet
is by no means sufficiently appreciated in our modern life. Specially do
we
ignore the disastrous effect upon the plastic astral and mental bodies of
children
of all this ceaseless, unnecessary noise; yet that is largely
responsible
for evils of many kinds and for weaknesses which show themselves
with
fatal effect in later life.
There
is a yet higher point of view from which all the sounds of nature blend
themselves
into one mighty tone-- that which the Chinese authors have called the
KUNG;
and this also has its form-- an inexpressible compound or synthesis of all
forms,
vast and changeful as the sea, and yet through it all upholding an
average
level, just as the sea does, all-penetrating yet all embracing, the note
which
represents our earth in the music of the spheres-- the form which is our
petal
when the solar system is regarded from that plane where it is seen all
spread
out like a lotus.
-------Cardiff Theosophical Society in Wales-------
206 Newport Road, Cardiff, Wales, UK. CF24-1DL
http://www.theosophywales.org.uk http://www.theosophycardiff.org
CHAPTER X
BY
PUBLIC OPINION
RACE
PREJUDICE
WHEN
anything occurs to prevent us from doing or saying exactly what we should
like
to do, we are in the habit of congratulating ourselves that thought at
least
is free. But this is only another of the many popular delusions. For the
average
man thought is by no means free; on the contrary it is conditioned by a
large
number of powerful limitations. It is bound by the prejudices of the
nation,
the religion, the class to which he happens to belong, and it is only by
a
determined and long-continued effort that he can shake himself free from all
these
influences, and really think for himself.
These
restrictions operate on him in two ways; they modify his opinion about
facts
and about actions. Taking the former first, he sees nothing as it really
is,
but only as his fellow-countrymen, his co-religionists, or the members of
his
caste think it to be. When we come to know more of other races we shake off
our
preconceptions concerning them. But we have only to look back a century to
the
time of Napoleon, and we shall at once perceive that no Englishman then
could
possibly have formed an impartial opinion as to the character of that
remarkable
man. Public opinion in England had erected him into a kind of bogey;
nothing
was too terrible or too wicked to be believed of him, and indeed it is
doubtful
whether the common people really considered him as a human being at
all.
The
prepossession against everything French was then so strong that to say that
a
man was a Frenchman was to believe him capable of any villainy; and one cannot
but
admit that those who had fresh in their minds the unspeakable crimes of the
French
Revolution had some justification for such an attitude. They were too
near
to the events to be able to see them in proportion; and because the
offscourings
of the streets of Paris had contrived to seize upon the government
and
to steep themselves in orgies of blood and crime, they thought that these
represented
the people of France. It is easy to see how far from the truth must
have
been the conception of the Frenchman in the mind of the average English
peasant
of that period.
Among
our higher classes the century which has passed since then has produced an
entire
revolution of feeling, and now we cordially admire our neighbours across
the
Channel, because now we know so much more of them. Yet even now it is not
impossible
that there may be remote country places in which something of that
old
and strongly established prejudice still survives. For the leading countries
of
the world are in reality as yet only partially civilised, and while
everywhere
the more cultured classes are prepared to receive foreigners
politely,
the same can hardly be said of the mill-hands or the colliers. And
there
are still parts of Europe where the Jew is hardly regarded as a human
being.
POPULAR
PREJUDICE
It
needs little argument to show that everywhere among the less cultured people
prejudgments
are still strong and utterly unreasonable; but we who think
ourselves
above them-- even we need to be careful, lest unconsciously we allow
them
to influence us. To stand against a strong popular bias is no easy matter,
and
the student of occultism will at once see why this is so. The whole
atmosphere
is full of thought-forms and currents of thought, and these are
ceaselessly
acting and reacting upon every one of us. The tendency of any
thought-form
is to reproduce itself. It is charged with a certain rate of
vibration,
and its nature is to influence every mental and astral body with
which
it comes into contact in the direction of the same vibration.
There
are many matters about which opinion is reasonably equally divided, as
(for
example) the angle at which one should wear one' s hat, or whether one
should
be a Liberal or a Conservative. Consequently the general average of
thought
on these matters is no stronger in one direction than in another; and
about
them and other such matters it may be said that thought is comparatively
free.
But there are other subjects upon which there is an overwhelming consensus
of
public opinion in one direction, and that amounts to so strong a pressure of
a
certain set of undulations connected with that subject upon the mental body,
that
unless a man is unusually strong and determined he will be swept into the
general
current. Even if he is strong enough to resist it, and is upon his guard
against
it, the pressure is still there, and its action is still continued, and
if
at any time he relaxes his vigilance for a moment, he may find himself
unconsciously
warped by it.
I
have explained in the second volume of The Inner Life that a man who allows
himself
to contract a prejudice of this kind on any subject causes a hardening
of
the matter of the mental body in the part of it through which the
oscillations
relating to that subject would naturally pass. This acts upon him
in
two ways; first, he is unable to see that subject as it really is, for the
vibrations
which would otherwise convey an impression of it come against this
callosity
of the mental body, and either they cannot penetrate it at all, or
they
are so distorted in their passage through it that they convey no real
information.
Secondly, the man cannot think truly with regard to that subject,
because
the very part of this mental body which he would use in such an effort
is
already so hardened as to be entirely inefficient, so that the only way to
overcome
the unfairness is to perform a surgical operation upon that wart in the
mental
body, and excise it altogether, and to keep for a long time a close watch
upon
it to see that it is not growing again. If that watch be not kept, the
steady
pressure of the thought-waves of thousands of other people will reproduce
it,
and it will be necessary to perform the operation all over again.
POLITICAL
PREJUDICE
In
many parts of the country there is a vast amount of bitter political bias.
The
majority of the people in a district hold one view or the other (it matters
little
which), and they find it difficult to imagine that the members of the
opposite
party are ordinary human beings at all. They are so sure of their own
point
of view that they appear to think that every one else must really hold it
also,
and that it is only out of malice prepense that their opponents are
pretending
to hold an entirely different view. Yet their own ideas are usually
not
arrived at by any process of thought or of weighing two lines of policy, but
are
hereditary, precisely as are most men' s religious opinions. There is so
much
excitement and unpleasant feeling connected with politics in almost every
country
that the wisest course for the student of occultism is to have as little
as
possible to do with the whole matter. Not that, if he happens to reside in a
country
where he has a vote, he should refuse to use it, as many good people
have
done, because of the mass of corruption which sometimes surrounds political
activity
of the lower kind. If there is much that is evil in connection with
such
affairs, that is all the more reason why every good citizen should use the
power
that the system has vested in him (however foolish in itself that system
may
be) in favour of what seems to him the right and noble course.
GOVERNMENT
The
occult theory of government, of the politics of the State, is preeminently
the
common-sense view. The management of a country is as much a matter of
business
as the management of a factory or a school. The country has many points
of
similarity to a great public school. It exists primarily for the benefit of
its
people, and the people are put there in order to learn. The head of the
country
makes whatever regulations he considers necessary to secure its
efficiency,
and there must be discipline and order and prompt obedience to those
regulations,
or there can be no progress. The king is the headmaster. His work
is
to exercise sleepless vigilance over the welfare of the school, to employ all
methods
in his power to make it the best of schools. Our business is not to
criticise
him, but to obey him, and loyally to give our heartiest co-operation
in
carrying out whatever he thinks best for the good of the country as a whole.
The
business of a government is to govern; the business of its people is to be
good,
loyal, law-abiding citizens so as to make that task of government easy.
A
king who thinks of or works for fancied private interests of his own, instead
of
acting only for his country, is obviously failing to do his work; but
remember
that any subject who in politics thinks of or works for supposed
private
interests of his own, and not for the good of the country as a whole, is
also
equally failing to do his duty as a good citizen. As to the outer form of a
government,
almost any form can be made to work satisfactorily if the people
co-operate
loyally and unselfishly, forgetting themselves as units and regarding
the
country as their unit; but no form of government, however excellent, can be
successful
and satisfactory if its people are selfish and refractory.
RELIGIOUS
PREJUDICE
All
that I have said of race prejudice is also true of religious prejudice,
which
is indeed in many ways even worse than the other. Few men choose their
religion;
most people are born into a religion, exactly as they are born into a
race,
and they have no valid reason for preferring it to any other form of
faith;
but because it happens to be theirs, they arrogantly assume that it must
be
better than any other, and despise other people whose karma has led them into
a
slightly different environment. Precisely because this partiality is thus in
the
air, and because the ordinary man cannot see the pressure of public opinion,
the
unfairness steals in upon him unobserved and seems to him quite natural, and
indistinguishable
from an opinion which he has formed for himself on some
reasonable
grounds.
It
is necessary that we should constantly pull ourselves up, and examine our
reasons
for the opinions we hold. It is so fatally easy to go with the current
and
to accept other men' s ready-made thoughts, instead of thinking for
ourselves.
“Almost every one does this, so why should not I?” That is the
feeling
of the average man, and yet if we would be just to all, as a student of
occultism
must be-- if we seek to know the truth on all subjects, as a student
of
occultism should know it-- then we must at all costs root out these
prejudices,
and keep a lynx-like watch against their return. We shall find
ourselves
in many ways differing from the majority, because the opinions of the
majority
are often unjust, ill-conceived, unreliable; but that after all we must
expect,
for we are setting before us a high ideal, which as yet does not appeal
to
that majority. If we think on all points as it thinks, and act in all ways as
it
acts, in what way have we raised ourselves above it, and how can we be
drawing
nearer to our goal?
CLASS
PREJUDICE
More
insidious still perhaps is the class or caste bias. It is so comforting to
feel
that we are somehow inherently and generically superior to everybody else--
that
no good feeling or good action can be expected from the other man, because
he
is a bloated aristocrat or a member of the proletariat, as the case may be.
Here
again, as with all the other misconceptions, the study of the hidden side
of
the matter shows us that what is needed is more knowledge and more charity.
The
occultist sees a prejudice to be a congestion of thought; what is necessary
therefore
is to stir up the thought, to get to know the people and try to
comprehend
them, and we shall soon find that fundamentally there is little
difference
between us and them.
That
there are classes of egos, that some are older and some are younger, and
that
some are consequently more ignorant than others, it is impossible to deny,
for
that is a fact in nature, as has been shown by our study of the order in
which
different divisions of mankind arrived from the moon-chain upon the
earth-chain.
But there is a common humanity which underlies all the classes, and
to
this we may always appeal with the certainty of obtaining some response.
Those
who feel sure that they belong to the higher class of egos must prove
their
nobility by great tolerance and charity towards the less fortunate younger
members
of the human race; noblesse oblige, and if they are the nobility they
must
act accordingly. A prejudice is usually so transparently foolish that when
a
man has freed himself from it he cannot believe that he ever really felt it,
cannot
understand how any of his fellow-creatures who have any pretence to
reasoning
powers can be subject to it. So there is a certain danger that he
himself
may become intolerant in turn-- intolerant of intolerance. The
occultist,
however, who sees the mighty combined thought-form and understands
the
almost irresistible power, and yet the curious insidiousness of its action,
understands
very well the difficulty of resisting it-- the difficulty even of
escaping
sufficiently from its thraldom to realise that there is anything to
resist.
PUBLIC
STANDARDS
Fortunately
this almost irresistible pressure of public opinion is not always
wrong.
In certain directions it is founded not upon the cumulative ignorance of
the
race but on its cumulative knowledge-- on the experience of generations that
have
gone before us. Public opinion is undoubtedly in the right when it condemns
murder
or robbery; and countries in which public opinion has not yet advanced so
far
as to express itself clearly on these points are universally admitted to be
in
the rearguard of civilisation. There are still in the world communities in
which
law and order are only beginning to exist, and violence is still the
deciding
factor in all disputes; but those countries are universally recognised
as
undesirable places of habitation and as lagging behind the progress of the
world.
There
are other crimes besides robbery and murder which are universally
condemned
in all civilised countries, and in all these directions the pressure
exerted
by public opinion is a pressure in the right direction, tending to
restrain
those erratic spirits who might otherwise think only of their own
desires
and not at all of the welfare of the community.
The
occultist, seeing so much more of what is really happening, establishes for
himself
a far more exacting code of morals than does the ordinary man. Many
things
which the ordinary man would do, and constantly does do, without thinking
twice
about them, the occultist would not permit himself to do under any
consideration,
because he sees their effects in other worlds, which are hidden
from
the less developed man. This is a general rule, though here and there we
meet
with exceptions in which the occultist, who understands the case, will take
steps
which the ordinary man would fear to take. This is because his action is
based
upon knowledge, because he sees what he is doing, while the other man is
acting
only according to custom.
The
great laws of morality are universal, but temporary and local customs are
often
only ridiculous. There are still many people to whom it is a heinous crime
to
go for a walk on a Sunday or to play a game of cards. At such restrictions
the
occultist smiles, though he is careful not to hurt the feelings of those to
whom
such quaint and unnatural regulations seem matters of primary importance.
In
many cases, too, the superior knowledge gained by occult study enables him to
see
the real meaning of regulations which are misunderstood by others.
CASTE
PREJUDICE
A
good example of this is to be seen in regard to the caste regulations of
India.
These were established some ten thousand years ago by the Manu in charge
of
the fifth root-race, when He had moved down the main stock of that race from
Central
Asia to the plains of India. This was after the sub-races had been sent
out
to do their colonising work, and the remnant of the main stock of His race
was
but small as compared to the teeming millions of Hindustan. Wave after wave
of
immigration had swept into the country, and mingled freely with the ruling
race
among its previous inhabitants, and He saw that, unless some definite
command
was given, the Aryan type, which had been established with so much
trouble,
would run great risk of being entirely lost. He therefore issued
instructions
that a certain division of His people should be made, and that the
members
of the three great types which He thus set apart should remain as they
were,
that they should not intermarry with one another or with the subject
races.
This
was the only restriction that was laid upon them. Yet this very simple and
harmless
regulation has been expanded into a system of iron rigidity which at
the
present time interferes at every step and in every direction with the
progress
of India as a nation. The command not to intermarry has been distorted
into
an order to hold no fellowship with the members of another caste, not to
eat
with them, not to accept food from them. Not only that, but the great race
divisions
made by the Manu have been again divided and subdivided until we are
now
in the presence of not three castes but a great multitude of sub-castes, all
looking
down upon one another, all foreign to one another, all restricted from
intermarrying
or from eating together. And all this in spite of the fact,
well-known
to all, that within the written laws of Manu (though they contain
much
which the Manu himself certainly did not say) it is stated quite definitely
that
the man of higher caste may eat with one of the lowest caste whom he knows
to
be living in a rational and cleanly manner, and that in the Mahabharata caste
is
declared to depend not upon birth but upon character. For example,
One'
s own ploughman, an old friend of the family, one' s own cowherd, one' s
own
servant, one' s own barber, and whosoever else may come for refuge and offer
service--
from the hands of all such shudras may food be taken.
(Manusmriti,
iv, 253.)
After
doubt and debate, the Gods decided that the food-gift of the money-lending
shudra
who was generous of heart was equal in quality to the food-gift of the
Shrotriya
brahmana who knew all the Vedas, but was small of heart. But the Lord
of
all creatures came to them and said: Make ye not that equal which is unequal.
The
food-gift of that shudra is purified by the generous heart, while that of
the
Shrotriya brahmana is befoulded wholly by the lack of goodwill.
(Manusmriti,
iv, 224, 225)
Not
birth, nor sacraments, nor study, nor ancestry, can decide whether a person
is
twice-born (and to which of the three types of the twice-born he belongs).
Character
and conduct only can decide.
(Mahabharata,
Vanaparvan, cccxiii, 108).
Yet
obvious as all this is, and well known as are the texts to which I have
referred,
there are yet thousands of otherwise intelligent people to whom the
regulations
made (not by religion but by custom only) are rules as strict as
that
of any savage with his taboo. All readily agree as to the absurdity of the
taboo
imposed in a savage tribe, whose members believe that to touch a certain
body
or to mention a certain name will bring down upon them the wrath of their
deity.
Yet all do not realise that the extraordinary taboo which many otherwise
sensible
Christians erect round one of the days of the week is in every respect
as
utterly irrational. Nor do our Indian friends realise that they have erected
a
taboo, exactly similar and quite as unreasonable, about a whole race of their
fellow
men, whom they actually label as untouchable, and treat as though they
were
scarcely human beings at all. Each race or religion is ready enough to
ridicule
the superstitions of others, and yet fails to comprehend the fact that
it
has equally foolish superstitions itself.
These
very superstitions have done irreparable harm to the cause of religion,
for
naturally enough those who oppose the religious idea fasten upon these weak
points
and emphasise and exaggerate them out of all proportion, averring that
religion
is synonymous with superstition; whereas the truth is that there is a
great
body of truth which is common to all the religions, which is entirely
unmarred
by superstition, and of the greatest value to the world, as is clearly
proved
by Mrs. Besant' s Universal Text Book of Religion and Morals. This body
of
teaching is the important part of every religion, and if the professors of
all
these faiths could be induced to recognise that and,-- we will not say to
abandon
their private superstitions, but at least to recognise them as not
binding
upon any but themselves, there would be no difficulty whatever in
arriving
at a perfect agreement. Each person has an inalienable right to believe
what
he chooses, however foolish it may appear to others; but he can under no
circumstances
have any possible right to endeavour to force his particular
delusion
upon those others, or to persecute them in any way for declining to
accept
it.
THE
DUTY OF FREEDOM
It
therefore becomes the duty of every student of occultism to examine carefully
the
religious belief of his country and his period, in order that he may decide
for
himself what of it is based upon reason and what is merely a superstitious
accretion.
Most men never make any such effort at discrimination, for they
cannot
shake themselves free from the influence of the great crowd of
thought-forms
which constitute public opinion; and because of those they never
really
see the truth at all, nor even know of its existence, being satisfied to
accept
instead of it this gigantic thought-form. For the occultist the first
necessity
is to attain a clear and unprejudiced view of everything-- to see it
as
it is, and not as a number of other people suppose it to be.
In
order to secure this clearness of vision, unceasing vigilance is necessary.
For
the pressure of the great hovering thought-cloud upon us is by no means
relaxed
because we have once detected and defied its influence. Its pressure is
ever
present, and quite unconsciously we shall find ourselves yielding to it in
all
sorts of minor matters, even though we keep ourselves clear from it with
regard
to the greater points. We were born under its pressure, just as we were
born
under the pressure of the atmosphere, and we are just as unconscious of one
as
of the other. As we have never seen anything except through its distorted
medium,
we find a great difficulty in learning to see clearly, and even in
recognising
the truth when we finally come face to face with it; but at least it
will
gradually help us in our search for truth to know of this hidden side of
public
opinion, so that we may be on our guard against its constant and
insidious
pressure.
BUSINESS
METHODS
For
example, this public opinion is at a very low level with regard to what are
called
business methods.
In
these days of keen competition, things are done and methods are adopted in
business
that would have astonished our forefathers. Many of these actions and
methods
are perfectly legitimate, and mean nothing more than the application of
shrewder
thought and greater cleverness to the work which has to be done; but
unquestionably
the boundary of what is legitimate and honourable is not
infrequently
overstepped, and means are employed to which the honest merchant of
an
earlier age would never have descended.
Indeed,
there has come to be a sort of tacit understanding that business has a
morality
of its own, and that ordinary standards of integrity are not to be
applied
to it. A man at the head of a large mercantile house once said to me:
“If
I tried to do business according to the Golden Rule-- ` Do unto others as ye
would
that they should do unto you' -- I should simply starve; I should be
bankrupt
in a month. The form in which it runs in business matters is much
nearer
to that immortalised by David Harum: ` Do unto the other man as he would
like
to do unto you, and do it first. ' ” And many others to whom this remark
was
quoted frankly agreed with him. Men who in all other respects are good and
honest
and honourable feel themselves bound in such matters to do as others do.
“Business
is business,” they say, “and the moralist who objects does not know
its
conditions,” and under this excuse they treat one another in business as
they
would never dream of treating a friend in private life, and make statements
which
they know to be false, even though outside of their trade they may be
truthful
men.
All
our virtues need widening out so that they will cover a greater area. At
first
man is frankly selfish, and takes care only of himself. Then he widens his
circle
of affection, and loves his family in addition to himself. Later on he
extends
a modified form of affection to his neighbours and his tribe, so that he
will
no longer rob them, though he is quite willing to join with them in robbing
some
other tribe or nation. Even thousands of years ago, if a dispute arose
within
a family the head of the family would act as arbitrator and settle it. We
have
now extended this as far as our neighbours or our fellow-citizens in the
same
State. If we have a dispute with any of them, a magistrate acts as an
arbitrator,
in the name of the law of the land. But we have not yet reached a
sufficient
state of civilisation to apply the same idea to national quarrels,
though
we are just beginning to talk about doing so, and one or two of the most
advanced
nations have already settled some difficulties in this way.
In
the same way the brothers of a family stand together; in dealing with one
another
they will not take advantage, or state what is untrue; but we have not
yet
reached the level on which they will be equally honest and open with those
outside
of the family, in what they call business. Perhaps if a man meets
another
in private life or at a friend' s house, and enters into conversation
with
him, he would scorn to tell him a falsehood; yet let the same man enter his
shop
or place of business, and his ideas of what is honourable or lawful for him
at
once undergo a sad deterioration.
Undoubtedly,
people who manage their affairs along the lines of sharp practice
sometimes
acquire large fortunes thereby; and those who regard life
superficially,
envy them for what they consider their success. But those who
have
accustomed themselves to look a little deeper into the underlying
realities,
recognise that it is not success at all-- that in truth there has
been
no profit in such a transaction, but a very serious loss.
If
man is a soul in process of evolution towards perfection, temporarily
stationed
here on earth in order to learn certain lessons and to achieve a
certain
stage of his progress, it is obvious that the only thing that matters is
to
learn those lessons and to make that progress. If man be in truth, as many of
us
know he is, a soul that lives for ever, the true interest of the man is the
interest
of that soul, not of the body, which is nothing but its temporary
vesture;
and anything that hinders the progress of that soul is emphatically a
bad
thing for the man, no matter how advantageous it may appear for his body.
The
soul is acting through and advancing by means of his vehicles, and the
physical
body is only one of these, and that the lowest. Manifestly, therefore,
before
we are able to pronounce whether any course of action is really good or
bad
for us, we must know how it affects all of these vehicles, and not only one
of
them.
Suppose
that one man overreaches another in some transaction, and boasts
blatantly
of his success and the profit which it has brought him. The student of
the
inner side of nature will tell him that there has been in reality no gain,
but
a heavy loss instead. The trickster chinks his money in his hand, and in his
shortsightedness
triumphantly cries: “See, here is the best of proof; here are
the
golden sovereigns that I have won; how can you say that I have not gained?”
The
occultist will reply that the gold may do him a little good or a little
harm,
according to the way in which he uses it; but that a consideration of far
greater
importance is the effect of the transaction upon higher levels. Let us
put
aside altogether, for the moment, the injury done to the victim of the
fraud--
though, since humanity is truly a vast brotherhood, that is a factor by
no
means to be ignored; but let us restrict ourselves now exclusively to the
selfish
aspect of the action, and see what harm the dishonest merchant has done
to
himself.
THE
RESULTS OF DECEIT
Two
facts stand out prominently to clairvoyant sight. First, the deceiver has
had
to think out his scheme of imposture; he has made a mental effort, and the
result
of that effort is a thought-form. Because the thought which gave it birth
was
guileful and ill-intentioned, that thought-form is one which cramps and
sears
the mental body, hindering its growth and intensifying its lower
vibrations--
a disaster in itself far more than counter-balancing anything
whatever
that could possibly happen in the physical world. But that is not all.
Secondly,
this duplicity has set up a habit in the mental body. It is
represented
therein by a certain type of vibration, and since this vibration has
been
set strongly in motion it has created a tendency towards its own
repetition.
Next time the man' s thoughts turn towards any commercial
transaction,
it will be a little easier than before for him to adopt some
knavish
plan, a little more difficult than before for him to be manly, open and
honest.
So that this one act of double-dealing may have produced results in the
mental
body which it will take years of patient striving to eliminate.
Clearly,
therefore, even from the most selfish point of view, the speculation
has
been a bad one; the loss enormously outweighs the gain. This is a
certainty--
a matter not of sentiment or imagination, but of fact; and it is
only
because so many are still blind to the wider life, that all men do not at
once
see this. But even those of us whose sight is not yet open to higher
worlds,
should be capable of bringing logic and common sense to bear upon what
our
seers tell us-- sufficiently at least to comprehend that these things must
be
so, and to take timely warning, to realise that a transaction may appear to
be
profitable in one direction and yet be a ruinous loss in another, and that
all
the factors must be taken into account before the question of profit or loss
is
decided.
It
is clear that a student of the occult who has to engage in business must
needs
watch closely what are called business methods, lest the pressure of
public
opinion on this matter should lead him to perform or to condone actions
not
perfectly straightforward or consistent with true brotherhood.
PREJUDICE
AGAINST PERSONS
This
applies also in the case of public opinion about a particular person. There
is
an old proverb which says: “Give a dog a bad name and you may as well hang
him
at once.” The truth which it expresses in so homely a manner is a real one,
for
if the community has a bad opinion of any given person, however utterly
unfounded
that opinion may be, the thought-form of it exists in the atmosphere
of
the place, and any stranger who comes will be likely to be influenced by it.
The
newcomer, knowing nothing of the victim of evil report, is unlikely to begin
his
acquaintance with him by charging him with specific crimes; but he may find
himself
predisposed to think ill of him, without being able to account for it,
and
may have a tendency to place a sinister interpretation upon the simplest of
his
actions. If we are trying to follow the truth we must be on our guard
against
these influences also; we must learn to judge for ourselves in such
cases
and not to accept a ready-made public judgment, which is just as truly a
superstition
as though it were connected with religious subjects.
THE
INFLUENCE OF FRIENDS
An
influence which often bears a very large part in a man' s life is that of his
friends.
This is recognised in a popular proverb which says that a man may be
known
by his friends. I take that to mean that the man usually chooses his
friends
from men of a certain type or a certain class, and that that in turn
means
that he finds himself in sympathy with the ideas of that type or that
class,
and so is likely to reproduce them himself; but it also means much more
than
this. When a man is with a friend whom he loves, he is in the most
receptive
attitude. He throws himself open to the influence of his friend, and
whatever
characteristics are strongly developed in that friend will tend to
produce
themselves in him also.
Even
in the physical world the belief of a friend commends itself to us merely
because
it is belief. It comes to us with a recommendation which assures for it
our
most favourable consideration. The hidden side of this is in truth merely an
extension
of the idea to a higher level. We open ourselves out towards our
friends,
and in doing so put ourselves in a condition of sympathetic vibration
with
them. We receive and enfold their thought-waves; whatever is definite in
them
cannot but impress itself upon our higher bodies, and these undulations
come
to us enwrapped in those of affection; an appeal is made to our feelings,
and
therefore to a certain extent our judgment is for the time less alert. On
the
one side, this may imply a certain danger that an influence may be accepted
without
sufficient consideration; on the other hand, it has its advantage in
securing
for that opinion a thoroughly sympathetic reception and examination.
The
path of wisdom will be to receive every new opinion as sympathetically as
though
it came from our best friend, and yet to scrutinise it as carefully as
though
it had reached us from a hostile source.
POPULAR
SUPERSTITIONS
It
must be remembered that superstition is by no means confined to religious
matters.
Most travelled Englishmen are aware that in certain parts of the
Continent
there exists a very decided superstition against the admission of
fresh
air into a room or a railway carriage, even though science teaches us that
fresh
air is a necessity of life. We know without a shadow of doubt, from
scientific
teaching, that sunlight destroys many disease germs, and vitalises
the
atmosphere; so it is impossible to question that it ought to be admitted to
our
houses as freely as possible, more especially in those unfortunate countries
where
we see so little of it. Yet instead of accepting this blessing and
exulting
in it, many a housewife makes determined efforts to shut it out when it
appears,
because of a superstition connected with the colours of curtains and
carpets.
It is not to be denied that sunlight causes certain colours to fade,
but
the curious lack of proportion of the ignorant mind is shown in the fact
that
faded colours are regarded as of greater importance than the physical
health
and cleanliness which the admission of the sunlight brings. Civilisation
is
gradually spreading, but there are still many towns and villages in which the
superstitious
following of the customs of our unscientific forefathers prevents
the
adoption of modern methods of sanitation.
Even
among people who think themselves advanced, curious little fragments of
primeval
superstition still survive. There are still many among us who will not
commence
a new undertaking on a Friday, nor form one of a party of thirteen.
There
are many who regard certain days of the week or of the month as fortunate
for
them and others as unfortunate, and allow their lives to be governed
accordingly.
I am not prepared to deny that a larger number of instances than
could
reasonably be accounted for by coincidence can be adduced to show that
certain
numbers are always connected in some way with the destiny of certain
persons
or families. I do not yet fully understand all that is involved in this,
but
it would be silly to deny the fact because we have not immediately at hand
an
adequate explanation of it. Those who are interested in pursuing this
question
further will find some of the instances to which I am referring in the
appendix
to Baring Gould' s Curious Myths of the Middle Ages.
I
do not doubt the existence of what are commonly called planetary influences,
for
I have already explained the hidden side of them; but I say that, while
these
influences may make it easier or more difficult to do a certain thing on a
certain
day, there is nothing whatever in any of them, or all of them combined,
that
can prevent a man of determined will from ordering his life precisely as he
thinks
best. As has been said, the wise man rules his stars, the fool obeys
them.
To let oneself become a slave to such influences is to make a superstition
of
them.
THE
FEAR OF GOSSIP
Perhaps
the greatest and most disastrous of all the taboos that we erect for
ourselves
is the fear of what our neighbours will say. There are many men and
women
who appear to live only in order that they may be talked about; at least
that
is what one must infer from the way in which they bring everything to this
as
to a touchstone. The one and only criterion which they apply with regard to
any
course of action is the impression which it will make upon their neighbours.
They
never ask themselves: “Is it right or wrong for me to do this?” but: “What
will
Mrs. Jones say if I do this?”
This
is perhaps the most terrible form of slavery under which a human being can
suffer,
and yet to obtain freedom from it, it is only necessary to assert it.
What
other people say can make to us only such difference as we ourselves choose
to
allow it to make. We have but to realise within ourselves that it does not in
the
least matter what anybody says, and at once we are perfectly free. This is a
lesson
which the occultist must learn at an early stage of his progress. He
lives
upon a higher level, and he can allow himself to be influenced only by
higher
considerations. He takes into account the hidden side of things of which
most
people know nothing; and, basing his judgment upon that, he decides for
himself
what is right and what is wrong, and (having decided) he troubles
himself
no more as to what other people say of him than we trouble ourselves as
to
the flies that circle round our heads. It never matters in the least to us
what
anyone else says, but it matters much to us what we ourselves say.
A
BETTER ASPECT
Happily
this mighty power of thought can be used for good as well as for evil,
and,
in some ways, the pressure of public opinion is occasionally on the side of
truth
and righteousness. Public opinion, after all, represents the opinion of
the
majority, and therefore the pressure which it exercises is all to the good
when
it is applied to those who are below the level of the majority. It is
indeed
only the existence of this mass of opinion which renders social and
civilised
life possible; otherwise we should be at the mercy of the strongest
and
the most unscrupulous among us. But the student of occultism is trying to
raise
himself to a level much above the majority, and for that purpose it is
necessary
that he should learn to think for himself, and not to accept
ready-made
opinions without examining them. This much at least may be said--
that,
if public opinion does not yet exact a very high level of conduct, at
least
the public ideal is a high one, and it never fails to respond to the noble
and
the heroic when that is put before it. Class feeling and esprit de corps do
harm
when they lead men to despise others; but they do good when they establish
a
standard below which the man feels that he cannot fall.
In
England we have a way of attributing our morals to our religion, whereas the
truth
seems to be that there is little real connection between them. It must be
admitted
that large numbers of the cultured classes in almost any European
country
have no real effective belief in religion at all. Perhaps to a certain
extent
they take a few general dogmas for granted, because they have never
really
thought about them or weighed them in their minds, but it would be an
error
to suppose that religious considerations direct their actions or bear any
large
part in their life.
They
are, however, greatly influenced, and influenced always for good, by
another
body of ideas which is equally intangible-- the sense of honour. The
gentleman
in every race has a code of honour of his own; there are certain
things
which he must not do, which he cannot do because he is a gentleman. To do
any
of those things would lower him in his own estimation, would destroy his
feeling
of self-respect; but in fact he has never even the temptation to do
them,
because he regards them as impossible for him. To tell an untruth, to do a
mean
or dishonourable action, to be disrespectful to a lady; these and such as
these,
he will tell you, are things which are not done in his rank of life. The
pressure
of such class feeling as this is all to the good, and is by all means
to
be encouraged. The same thing is to be found in a minor degree in the
tradition
of our great schools or colleges, and many a boy who has been strongly
tempted
to escape from some difficulty by an act of dishonour has said to
himself:
“I cannot do that, for the sake of the old school; it shall never be
said
that one of its members descended to such an action.” So there is a good
side
as well as a bad one to this matter of public opinion, and our business is
to
use always the great virtue of discrimination, so that we may separate the
desirable
from the undesirable.
Another
point worth remembering is that this great, clumsy, stupid force of
public
opinion can itself be slowly and gradually moulded and influenced. We
ourselves
are members of the public, and under the universal law our views must
to
some extent affect others. The wonderful change, which during the last thirty
years
has come over modern thought in connection with the subjects which we
study,
is largely due to the persistent work of our Society. Through all those
years
we have steadily continued to speak, to write, and above all to think
sanely
and rationally about these questions. In doing so we have been pouring
out
vibrations, and their effect is plainly visible in a great modification of
the
thought of our day. Only those men who are fully ready can be brought as far
as
Theosophy, but thousands more may be brought half-way-- into New Thought,
into
Spiritualism, into liberal Christianity. In this case, as in every other,
to
know the law is to be able to wield its forces.
-------Cardiff Theosophical Society in Wales-------
206 Newport Road, Cardiff, Wales, UK. CF24-1DL
http://www.theosophywales.org.uk http://www.theosophycardiff.org
CHAPTER XI
BY
OCCASIONAL EVENTS
A
FUNERAL
SO
far we have been considering chiefly the influences which, whether emanating
from
nature or from humanity around us, are steadily exercising upon us a fairly
constant
pressure, of which we are usually ignorant precisely because it is
constant.
It will now be well to mention the hidden side of such occurrences as
come
only occasionally into our lives, as, for example, when we attend a
funeral,
when we undergo a surgical operation, when we attend a lecture, a
political
meeting, or a spiritualistic séance, when there is a religious revival
in
our neighbourhood, when a great national festival is celebrated, or when
there
is a war, an earthquake, an eruption or some great calamity in the world.
First,
then, how is a man affected by the hidden side of a funeral? I do not
mean
how is a man affected by his own funeral, though that also is a question of
interest,
for it affects some people to an extraordinary extent. No person of
philosophical
temperament would trouble himself as to what was done with his
body,
which is after all only a wornout garment; but there are many people in
the
world who are not philosophical, and to them it is sometimes a matter of
great
moment.
All
classical history assures us that the ancient Greek, when he died, was
exceedingly
anxious that his body should receive what he considered decent
sepulture--
mainly because he laboured under the illusion that unless this was
done
he would not be free to pursue the even tenor of his way after death. Most
of
the ghost stories of ancient Greece related to people who came back to
arrange
for the due disposal of their bodies.
The
poorer classes among the modern Irish seem to share this extraordinary
anxiety
about the disposal of their bodies, for on several occasions I have come
across
Irish women whose one thought after death was not in the least for the
welfare
or progress of their souls, but that the number of carriages following
their
funeral procession should not fall below a certain number, or that the
coffin
provided for the body should not be in any respect inferior to that which
Mrs.
So-and-So had had a few weeks before.
This,
however, is a mere digression, and what we have to consider is the effect
of
a funeral upon the survivors, and not upon the dead man (who , nevertheless,
is
usually present, and regards the proceedings from various points of view,
according
to his temperament).
A
funeral is distinctly a function to be avoided by the occultist; but sometimes
he
may find himself in circumstances where his refusal to attend might be
misconstrued
by ignorant and uncomprehending relations. In such a case he should
exert
his will, and put himself into a determined and positive attitude, so that
he
may on no account be affected by the influences around him, and at the same
time
be in a position powerfully to affect others.
He
should think first of the dead man (who will most likely be present) with
strong,
friendly interest and affection, and with a determined will for his
peace
and advancement. He should adopt also a positive attitude of mind in his
thought
towards the mourners, endeavouring strongly to impress upon them that
they
must not grieve, because the man whom they mourn as dead is in reality,
still
living, and their grief will hinder him in his new condition. He must try
mentally
to hold them firmly in hand, and to prevent them from relaxing into
hysterics
and helplessness.
The
modern funeral is far from ideal. It seems to be an established convention
that
there must be some kind of ceremony connected with the disposal of the
discarded
clothing of the liberated ego; but surely something better might be
devised
than what is usually done at present. The funeral in the village church
is
not without a certain amount of appropriateness-- even a certain consolation;
the
mourners are in a building which has for them holy and elevating
associations
of all sorts, and the service appointed by the Church of England is
beautiful,
though here and there one would like to infuse into it a note of more
enthusiastic
certainty.
But
for the service performed in a cemetery chapel there is nothing whatever to
be
said. The place is never used for any other purpose than a funeral, and its
whole
atmosphere is pervaded with hopeless grief. Everything is usually as bare
and
as gloomy as possible; the very walls reek of the charnel-house. We must
remember
that, for one person who understands the truth about death and takes an
intelligently
hopeful view of it, there are hundreds who have nothing but the
most
irrational and gruesome ideas. Such a place as that, therefore, is filled
with
the blackest despair and the most poignant mental suffering; and it is
consequently
of all places the most undesirable into which to take those who
have
experienced what seems to them to be a bereavement.
THE
DISPOSAL OF THE DEAD BODY
No
one who has the faintest glimpse of the hidden side of things can approve of
our
present barbarous method of disposing of the bodies of the dead. Even on the
physical
earth there is no single point in its favour, and there are many
weighty
considerations against it. From the sentimental point of view alone, it
is
impossible to understand how any person can reconcile himself to the idea
that
the cast-off garment of one whom he loves should be left to a slow and
loathsome
decay under conditions from which imagination shrinks with horror; and
when
to this we add the dreadful danger of disease to the living from the
unspeakable
pollution of air and of water, we begin to understand that our
funeral
customs are one of the many indications that our boasted civilisation
is,
after all only a veneer.
Still
more decidedly is this impression confirmed when we gain an insight into
that
side of these matters which is as yet unknown to the majority. We become
aware
then what kind of entity it is that is attracted by the process of slow
putrefaction,
and we see that in this way also terrible, unnecessary harm is
being
done to the survivors.
For
the dead man, if he is wise, it matters little what becomes of the worn-out
garment;
but it should be remembered that all dead men are not necessarily wise,
and
that for some of them (who know no better) this abominable custom of ours
makes
possible a serious mistake, which under proper conditions could not be
committed.
The
average man in his ordinary thinking is not in the habit of separating
himself
into body and soul as definitely as does the student of occultism. True,
the
dead man has finally left his physical vehicle, and it is practically
impossible
for him again to take possession of it; but he is intimately
acquainted
with it, and its rates of vibration are familiar and sympathetic to
him.
Under all normal and clean and proper conditions he has done with it
entirely;
but there are those who, having had no ideas, no conceptions of any
sort
beyond the physical during life, become crazy with fear when they find
themselves
altogether cut adrift from it. Such men sometimes make frantic
efforts
to return into some sort of touch with physical life. Most do not
succeed;
but when any of them do succeed to some limited extent, it can be only
by
means of their own physical bodies.
Such
Rapport as they still retain with the decaying vestures sometimes enables
them
to draw from them the basis of an imperfect and unnatural
half-materialisation--
not nearly enough to bring them back into touch with the
physical
world, but yet sufficient to tear them for the time from healthy astral
life.
Such people make for themselves for awhile-- fortunately only for awhile--
a
dim, grey world of horror in which they see physical happenings as in a glass
darkly--
as through a world of mist in which they wander, lost and helpless.
They
cannot get back entirely into the dense bodies; a man who did would become
a
vampire. But they do get hold of the etheric matter of their discarded
vehicles,
and drag it about with them, and this is the cause of all their
suffering;
and until they can get rid of this entanglement, until they can
plunge
through the grayness and get into the light, there can be no rest for
them.
There are unpleasant forms of black magic, too, known in oriental
countries
and to those who have studied the methods of the Voodoo or the Obeah,
which
depend for their success upon the decaying physical body; though this is
happily
not a consideration of practical importance to those who live among
communities
unversed in such evil lore.
But
at least this is clear-- that all possibilities of evil, both for the dead
and
for the living, are avoided by the rational disposal of the discarded
vesture
of flesh. When we return to the custom of cremation, practised by the
Hindus,
the Greeks and the Romans, we reduce the physical vehicle as rapidly as
possible
to its constituent elements in a manner which is at once clean, decent,
and
wholly satisfactory to the aesthetic sentiment as well as to the rational
view
of the man of sense.
Some
people have feared the possibility that, especially in the cases of sudden
death,
the dead man might feel the flame-- might be in some way not yet fully
separated
from his body, and so might suffer when that body was burned. Even if
the
death be sudden, so long as it is death, the astral and etheric matter have
been
completely separated from the denser physical, and it would be quite
impossible
that the dead man could under any circumstances feel what was done to
the
physical body. I mean that he could not really feel it, because the
connection
through which he feels is definitely broken; what is perhaps possible
is
that, seeing the cremation, he might have a certain fear lest he should feel
it--
the idea that he ought to be feeling it, as it were; and so imagination
might
come into play to some extent.
I
have never seen such a case in connection with cremation; but I remember
hearing
on good authority of a young man whose teeth were all drawn after his
death
by a dishonest undertaker, in order that they might be sold as artificial
teeth.
The young man appeared to his father with blood flowing from his mouth,
exclaiming
in great indignation that they had tortured him by drawing his teeth.
The
body was exhumed, and it was found that his story was correct. In this case,
if
the man was really dead, it is quite impossible that he could have felt any
pain;
but he became aware of what was being done, and was very angry about it;
and
no doubt he may have thought of himself as really injured, because during
life
the idea of tooth-drawing had been associated with great pain.
The
difference which the knowledge of the hidden side of things makes in the
consideration
of the whole subject of death is very aptly shown by two of the
figures
reproduced in the book on Thought-Forms -- those which illustrate the
thought-images
created by two men standing side by side at a funeral. There it
is
seen that the man who had lived in the ordinary blank ignorance with regard
to
death, had no thought in connection with it but selfish fear and depression;
whereas
the man who understood the facts was entirely free from any suggestion
of
those feelings, for the only sentiments evoked in him were those of sympathy
and
affection for the mourners, and of devotion and high aspiration.
Indeed,
knowledge of the hidden side of life entirely changes a man' s attitude
towards
death, for it shows him instantly that instead of being the end of all
things,
as is often ignorantly supposed, it is simply the passage from this
stage
of life to another which is freer and pleasanter than the physical, and
that
consequently it is to be desired rather than to be feared. He sees at once
how
utterly a delusion is the theory that those who cast aside their physical
bodies
are lost to us, for he knows that they remain near us just as before, and
that
all that we have lost is the power to see them. To the consciousness of the
man
who possesses even astral sight, the so-called dead are just as definitely
present
as the so-called living, and since he sees how readily they are affected
by
the vibrations which we send out to them, he understands how harmful is the
attitude
of mourning and grief so often unfortunately adopted by the friends who
still
retain their physical bodies.
A
knowledge of the hidden side of life by no means teaches us to forget our
dead,
but it makes us exceedingly careful as to how we think of them; it warns
us
that we must adopt a resolutely unselfish attitude, that we must forget all
about
ourselves, and the pain of the apparent separation, and think of them
neither
with grief nor with longing, but always with strong affectionate wishes
for
their happiness and their progress.
The
clairvoyant sees exactly in what manner such wishes affect them, and at once
perceives
the truth which underlies the teaching of the Catholic Church with
regard
to the advisability of prayers for the dead. By these both the living and
the
dead are helped; for the former, instead of being thrown back upon his grief
with
a hopeless feeling that now he can do nothing, since there is a great gulf
between
himself and his loved one, is encouraged to turn his affectionate
thought
into definite action which promotes the happiness and advancement of him
who
has passed from his sight in the physical world. Of all this and much more I
have
written fully in the book called The Other Side Of Death, so here I will
only
thus far touch upon the subject, and refer to that volume any who wish for
more
detailed information.
A
SURGICAL OPERATION
In
these days of the triumph of surgery it not infrequently happens that a man
has
to submit himself to an operation. There is less of a hidden side to this
than
to many other events, because the use of anaesthetics drives the man away
from
his physical body altogether. But in that very absence much that is of
interest
to him takes place, and it is well to endeavour to note and remember as
far
as may be what occurs. This is a difficult thing to do; more difficult than
the
bringing through of the memory from the astral world, because what is driven
out
by the anaesthetic is the etheric part of the physical man, and as the
etheric
double is only a portion of the physical body, and in no sense a perfect
vehicle
in itself, a man cannot usually bring through a clear memory.
I
remember a case of this nature which I was asked by the victim to attend. He
was
much interested in the occult side of the affair, and anxious to remember
all
that he could. He was placed upon the operating table, and the anaesthetic
was
administered. Almost immediately the man sprang out in his astral body,
recognised
me, and started down the room towards me with an expression of vivid
delight
upon his face, evidently overjoyed at finding himself fully conscious in
the
astral world. But in a moment came pouring forth from the physical body a
great
cloud of etheric matter which was forced out by the anaesthetic. This
cloud
immediately wrapped itself round him, and I could see the intelligence
fade
out of his face until it became a mere mask.
When
I was permitted to see him again two days afterwards, his memory of what
had
happened tallied exactly with that I had seen. He remembered the rush out of
his
body; he recollected clearly seeing me at the other end of the room, and
feeling
greatly delighted that everything seemed so real. Then he started down
the
room towards me, but somehow he never arrived, and knew nothing more until
he
came back into the body an hour later when the whole operation was over. I
felt
on that occasion what an advantage the possession of clairvoyance would
have
been to the two doctors engaged. They gave the patient too much of the
anaesthetic,
and came within an ace of finally driving out the whole of his
etheric
double, instead of only part of it as they intended. As my clairvoyant
companion
forcibly remarked, they left hardly enough of it to cover
half-a-crown,
and the consequence was that the patient came perilously near to
death,
and they had to pump oxygen into his lungs for ten minutes in order to
bring
him back to life at all.
A
few years ago a visit to the dentist frequently meant a minor operation, in
which
the patient passed through a somewhat similar but much shorter experience,
owing
to the administration of nitrous oxide, and many curious phenomena have
shown
themselves in connection with that. An example in point will be found in
my
book on Dreams (page 38). In these days of local anaesthetics the dentist is
usually
able to do his work without the administration of gas, and consequently
the
experiences connected with his operation are of a less occult nature.
A
LECTURE
We
have in a previous chapter considered the consequences which attend upon the
action
of going to church; let us now consider the inner side of attending a
lecture,
a political meeting, a spiritualistic séance, or a religious revival.
Of
these forms of excitement the lecture is usually the mildest, though even
that
to some extent depends upon its subject. There is generally much less
uniformity
about the audience at a lecture than about a congregation in a
church.
There are often many and rather decisive points of likeness between
those
who adopt the same religious belief, whereas the people who are interested
in
a lecture upon some particular subject may come from many different folds,
and
be of all sorts of quite different types. Still, for the time being there is
a
link between them, the link of interest in a particular subject: and
therefore,
however different their minds may be, the same portion of the mind is
for
the moment being brought into activity in all of them, and that creates a
certain
superficial harmony.
Since
the Theosophical student frequently has to deliver lectures as well as to
endure
them, it is perhaps well not entirely to neglect that side of the
subject,
but to note that, if the lecturer wishes to act effectively upon the
mind-bodies
of his audience, he must first of all have a clearly defined idea
expressing
itself through his own mind-body. As he thinks earnestly of the
different
parts of his subject and tries to put them before his people, he is
making
a series of thought-forms-- unusually strong thought-forms because of the
effort.
He
has a fine opportunity, because his audience is necessarily to a great extent
in
a receptive condition. They have taken the trouble to come in order to hear
about
this particular subject, and therefore we must suppose that they are in a
condition
of readiness to hear. If under these favourable conditions he fails to
make
them understand him, it must be because his own thought upon the subject is
not
sufficiently clearcut. A clumsy and indefinite thought-form makes but a
slight
impression, and even that with much difficulty. A clearly-cut one forces
the
mental bodies in the audience to try to reproduce it. Their reflections of
it
will almost invariably be less definite and less satisfactory than it is, but
still,
if its edges are sharp enough, they will convey the idea to some extent;
but
if that from which they have to copy is itself blurred, it is eminently
probable
that the reproductions will prove entirely unrecognisable.
Sometimes
the lecturer receives unexpected assistance. The fact that he is
engaged
in thinking strongly of one particular subject attracts the attention of
disembodied
entities who happen to be interested in that subject, and the
audience
often includes a greater number of people in astral than in physical
bodies.
Many of these come simply to hear, as do their brothers in the physical
world,
but sometimes it happens that one of those who are attracted knows more
about
the subject than the lecturer. In that case he sometimes assists by
suggestions
or illustrations. These may come to the lecturer in various ways. If
he
is clairvoyant he may see his assistant, and the new ideas or illustrations
will
be materialised in subtler matter before him. If he is not clairvoyant, it
will
probably be necessary for the helper to impress the ideas upon his brain,
and
in such a case he may well suppose them to be his own. Sometimes the
assistant
is not disembodied, or rather only temporarily disembodied; for this
is
one of the pieces of work frequently taken in hand by the invisible helpers.
In
some cases the ego of the lecturer manifests himself in some curious exterior
way.
For example, I have heard the greatest orator now living say that, while
she
is speaking one sentence of a lecture, she habitually sees the next sentence
actually
materialise in the air before her, in three different forms, from which
she
consciously selects that one which she thinks the best. This must be the
work
of the ego, though it is a little difficult to see why he takes that method
of
communication, since after all it is he who is delivering the lecture through
the
physical organs. At first blush it seems that it would be as easy for him--
or
perhaps even easier-- to select a form himself, and impress only that one
upon
lower matter; and even then it might as well come directly to the brain as
be
materialised in the air before it.
Returning
from the lecturer to his audience, we may note that it is possible for
his
hearers to give him great assistance in his work. Older members of a branch
have
sometimes been heard to say that they did not feel it necessary to go down
to
the lodge meeting on a certain occasion, as the lecture was about a subject
with
which they were already thoroughly acquainted. Apart from the large
assumption
involved in the statement that one can ever be fully acquainted with
any
Theosophical teaching, it is not accurate to say that a man' s presence is
useless
because he knows the subject. Exactly the opposite remark would have
much
more truth in it; because he knows the subject thoroughly he also can make
strong
and clear thought-forms of the different illustrations required, and in
that
way he can greatly assist the lecturer in impressing on the audience what
he
wishes to convey to them.
The
greater the number of people present at a lecture who thoroughly understand
its
subject, the easier will it be for all those to whom it is new to obtain a
clear
conception of it. The lecturer, therefore, is distinctly helped by the
presence
of those who can fully comprehend him. He also may be much helped or
hindered
by the general attitude of his audience. In the main that is usually
friendly,
since the majority of people who come to a lecture come because they
are
interested in the subject and wish to learn something about it. Sometimes,
however,
one or two appear whose main desire is to criticise, and their presence
is
anything but helpful.
A
POLITICAL MEETING
This
latter effect is much more in evidence at a political meeting, for there it
seems
to be the rule that, while some people go for the purpose of supporting
the
speaker, others go merely for the purpose of challenging and interrupting
him.
Consequently the feelings to be experienced, and the thought-forms to be
seen,
at political meetings are not easy to predict beforehand. But one often
sees
cases in which forms composed entirely or principally of the thoughts of
the
adherents of one party make huge waves of enthusiasm, which rush over the
audience,
surround the speaker and work him up into a corresponding condition of
enthusiasm.
Many
years ago I remember attending a meeting of this description, and being
much
struck by the effect produced by getting all the people to join together in
singing.
Some great gun of the party was to speak, and consequently the huge
hall
was crowded to suffocation a couple of hours before the advertised time;
but
the organisers of the meeting were wise in their generation, and they
employed
that time most efficiently by working up that vast heterogeneous crowd
into
a condition of loyal enthusiasm. All sorts of patriotic songs followed one
another
in quick succession, and though few really knew the tunes, and still
fewer
the words, there was at least no lack of enthusiastic good feeling. The
two
hours of waiting passed like an entertainment, and I think most people were
surprised
to find how quickly time had fled.
The
occult side of the average political meeting, however, is far from
attractive,
for from the astral world it not unfrequently bears a strong general
resemblance
to an exceedingly violent thunderstorm. There is often much warring
feeling,
and even a good deal of personal enmity. On the whole we have usually a
preponderance
of a sort of rough and perhaps rather coarse, good-humoured
jollity,
often pierced, however, by spears of anxious feeling from the
promoters.
Unless duty actually calls one to such gatherings it is generally
better
to avoid them, for on such occasions there is always a clash of astral
currents
that cannot but induce great fatigue in anyone who is in the least
sensitive.
CROWDS
It
is also desirable to avoid as far as possible the mixing of magnetism which
comes
from too close contact with a promiscuous crowd. Not that we must assume
for
a moment that the persons composing the crowd are necessarily lower or worse
than
ourselves. It would be most undesirable that the student should become
self-conscious,
self-conceited or self-righteous. It is probably true that the
aims
and objects of the majority of people in any crowd, taken at random, are of
more
worldly type than those of the Theosophical student; but it would be both
wrong
and foolish to despise the people on that account. The point to bear in
mind
is, not that we are better than they, but that there is a difference in the
rates
of vibration, and that consequently to be in constant contact with others
causes
disturbance in the various vehicles, which it is better to avoid.
Nevertheless,
when duty renders it necessary or desirable that the student
should
enter a crowd, there are at his disposal various means by which he can
protect
himself. The most usual is the making of a shell, either etheric, astral
or
mental; but the best protection of all is a radiant goodwill and purity. I
shall
presently devote a chapter to the consideration of this question of
protection.
A
SÉANCE
Of
all forms of meeting one of the most interesting from the occult point of
view
is the spiritualistic séance, though of this there are so many different
types
that hardly anything can be said which would apply equally to all of
them--
except perhaps that one almost invariable characteristic is an atmosphere
of
joyousness and hopefulness. The circles to which outsiders are often
introduced,
those of which we hear and of which we may occasionally read in the
newspapers--
these are after all the few, and behind them, forming the real
block
of spiritualism, are two other variants of which we hear very little.
There
is the ordinary séance, quite among the poor, with a medium probably of
the
stout washer-woman type, where no sensational phenomena take place, where
the
spirits are frequently ungrammatical. Thousands of such séances are being
held
all over the world, and there is a strong family likeness between them. To
a
visitor their proceedings would appear profoundly uninteresting. Usually the
medium
gives a kind of fourth-rate ethical address-- or perhaps it is really
given
through the medium-- but in any case it usually faithfully reproduces all
her
favourite errors in grammar and in pronounciation. Then as a general rule a
few
words are said specially to each of the persons present, often taking the
form
of a description of their surroundings or of the spirits which are supposed
to
be hovering about them. Such descriptions are usually vague and uncertain to
the
last degree, but now and again striking identifications are made-- far too
many
to be explicable on any theory of mere coincidence. And however dull all
this
may seem to the outsider, it does undoubtedly carry peace and conviction to
the
members of the circle, and gives them a real living knowledge and certainty
with
regard to the continued existence of man after death, which puts to shame
the
faith of the fashionable churches.
The
hidden side of a séance such as this has often something pathetic about it.
Behind
the medium there is usually what is called a spirit-guide-- a dead
person,
sometimes of the medium' s own class in life, sometimes of a decidedly
higher
type-- a dead person who has by much patient effort learned how to
influence
with a reasonable amount of certainty the clumsy organism of the
medium,
which, however unsuitable it may be in most other respects, at least
possesses
the invaluable faculty that it can be influenced and that
communications
can in some way or other be got through. The patience with which
this
entity deals with the poor souls that come to him from both sides of the
veil
is admirable; for he has to try to bring into harmony not only the tearful
inconsequence
of scores of sorrowing relations on this side, but also the
feverish
and clamorous excitement of a crowd who are trying to rush into
manifestation
from the other. With his class and in his way such an entity does
a
great deal of good, and his life of unnoticed toil in some obscure district
adds
more to the sum total of human happiness than many far more showy efforts
which
receive greater credit in the eyes of the public. Even such a séance as
this,
when examined with astral sight, is seen to be a centre of a kind of
vortex.
the departed rushing in from all directions, desiring either themselves
to
manifest or to watch the manifestation.
There
is another variety of séance of which few know anything-- the private
family
circle to which no outsider is ever admitted. This is infinitely the most
satisfactory
side of spiritualism, for through it many thousands of families
communicate
day by day with friends or relations who have passed from the
physical
world, and in this way not only learn a number of interesting facts but
are
kept constantly in touch with spiritual subjects and at a high level of
thought
with regard to them. Most commonly the central figure at these private
séances
is some departed member of the family, and the communications ordinarily
are
affectionate little sermonettes of a devotional character, often somewhat
rhapsodical.
Occasionally,
however, where the departed relation happens to be a man of
original
thought or of a scientific turn of mind, a great volume of definite
information
is gradually gathered together. There are far more of these private
revelations
in existence than is generally suspected, for hardly one in a
hundred
of those who receive them is prepared to face an exposure to public
ridicule
of what to him is above all things a holy thing, in the hope of so
improbable
a result as the conversion of some sceptical stranger.
At
such séances as these, remarkable phenomena are not infrequent, and
materialisations
of the most startling kind are sometimes part of the daily
programme.
Often the so-called dead are just as much part of the daily life of
the
family as the living, as was the case, for example, with the phenomena which
took
place at the house of Mr. Morel Theobald, at Haslemere. The séances
described
by Mr. Robert Dale Owen are largely of this character, and they
represent
the highest possible kind of spiritualism, though in the very nature
of
the case it is hardly ever available to the ordinary enquirer.
The
hidden side of such séances as these is truly magnificent, for they form
points
of habitual contact between the astral and physical worlds-- vortices
again,
but this time only of the higher and nobler varieties of astral life. The
thought-forms
surrounding them are of the religious or the scientific type
according
to the nature of the manifestations, but they are always good
thought-forms,
calculated to raise the mental or spiritual level of the district
in
which they are to be found.
Putting
aside these two large classes, we have next the smaller group of public
séances
which to most outsiders represent the whole of spiritualism. All sorts
of
people are admitted to these, usually, on payment of a small sum of money,
and
the entities who appear on the astral side are just as curious a
conglomerate
as those who attend on the physical. Here also there is almost
always
a spirit-guide in charge. The highest astral types are not to be found
among
the habitués of such séances as these, but there is usually a sprinkling
of
dead people who have devoted themselves to the idea of being useful to those
still
on the physical earth, by the exhibition of phenomena and the giving of
various
small tests.
The
aura of such a séance is usually on the whole somewhat unpleasant, for it
attracts
a great deal of attention in the astral world as well as in the
physical,
and consequently round every one of them is always a clamorous crowd
of
the most undesirable entities, who are restrained only by force from pushing
in
and seizing upon the medium. Among the dangers attending these séances is the
possibility
that one of these desperate creatures may seize upon any sensitive
sitter
and obsess him; worse still, that he may follow him home, and seize upon
his
wife or daughter. There have been many such cases, and usually it is almost
impossible
to get rid of an entity which has thus obsessed the body of a living
human
being.
The
hidden side of such a séance is generally a confused network of
cross-currents,
some good and some bad, but none very good and some very bad.
The
clairvoyant attending such a séance may obtain a certain amount of
instruction
from watching the various methods by which the phenomena are
produced,
which are sometimes exceedingly ingenious. He will be astonished at
the
cleverness of the personations, and at the amazing facility with which those
who
know nothing of this side of life can be deceived.
A
RELIGIOUS REVIVAL
From
the point of view of the student of the inner worlds one of the most
remarkable
phenomena of our day is what is called a religious revival. A
religious
revival, as seen from the physical world, usually means a gathering of
people
of the lower classes whose feelings are inflamed by highly emotional and
often
lurid appeals from some fanatical exponent of the gospel of a particular
sect.
Day after day these meetings take place, and they are often accompanied by
the
most extraordinary phenomena of nervous excitement.
People
work themselves up into some sort of hysterical condition in which they
feel
themselves to be saved, as they call it-- to have escaped forever from the
bondage
of the ordinary life of the world, and to have become members of a
spiritual
community whose aims are of the highest description. Often they are
moved
to confess in public what they consider to have been their misdeeds, and
they
are apt to do this with a wealth of emotion and repentance entirely out of
proportion
to anything that they have to confess. The wave of nervous excitement
spreads
like an infectious disease, and usually it lasts for some weeks, though
often
towards the end of that time symptoms of universal exhaustion appear and
the
whole thing somewhat shamefacedly dies down into commonplace life again.
In
a small percentage of the cases the spiritual elevation appears to be
maintained,
and the victims continue to live a life at a distinctly higher level
than
that which had been theirs previously; but by far the greater number of the
cases
relapse either suddenly and dramatically, or by slow and gradual stages,
into
much the same kind of life as they had led before the excitement came.
Statistics
show that the culmination of this emotional excitement is accompanied
by
great sexual disturbance, and that the number of illegitimate unions of all
sorts
is temporarily greatly increased. There are certain sects which take as
part
of their regular system a much modified form of this excitement, and
consider
it necessary for their junior members to pass through a crisis which is
sometimes
described as “being convinced of sin,” and in other cases simply as
“getting
religion”.
Such
a revival as this is seen in its most extravagant form among the negroes of
America,
among whom it reaches a level of frenzy not commonly attained by the
white
races. The negroes find it necessary to relieve their feelings by dances
and
leaps and contortions of the wildest kind, and these are often carried on
for
hours together, accompanied by yells and groans of a truly alarming
character.
That
this sort of thing should take place in the twentieth century, and among
people
who think themselves civilised is surely a most remarkable phenomenon,
and
one deserving careful consideration from a student of the inner side of
things.
For one who possesses astral vision such an outburst is a wonderful but
unpleasant
sight. The missioner or revivalist preacher who first commences such
a
movement is usually animated by the highest motives. He becomes impressed with
the
overflowing love of God, or with the wickedness of a particular section of
the
community, and he feels that the spirit moves him to proclaim the one and to
rebuke
the other. He works himself up into a condition of tremendous emotional
excitement,
and sets his astral body swinging far beyond the degree of safety.
For
a man may yield himself to emotion up to a certain point, and yet recover
himself,
just as a ship may roll to a certain extent and yet swing back again to
her
normal position; but just as the ship capsizes if she rolls beyond that
point
of safety, so if the man lets his astral body entirely escape from
control,
he dies, or becomes insane or is obsessed. Such an obsession need not
necessarily
be what we should call an evil one, though the truth is that all
obsession
is evil; but I mean that we need not credit the obsessing entity with
anything
but good intentions, though he usually takes advantage of such an
opportunity
more for the sake of the excitement and the feeling which he himself
gets
out of it than from any altruistic motive.
In
many cases, however, the obsessing entity is a departed preacher of the same
religion,
style and type as the man obsessed, and thus we have temporarily two
souls
working through one body. The double force thus gained is poured out
recklessly
upon any audience that can be gathered together. The tremendous
swinging
energy of these hysterical excesses is contagious, and since such
revivals
are usually set on foot among people whose emotions are not under the
control
of a strongly developed intellect, the preacher soon finds others who
can
be reduced by sympathetic vibration to a condition as unbalanced as his own.
Every
one who swings over the safety point adds to the strength of these
exaggerated
vibrations, and soon an astral disturbance is set up of the nature
of
a gigantic whirlpool. Towards this from all sides pour astral entities whose
one
desire is for sensation-- no longer merely or even chiefly human beings, but
all
kinds of nature-spirits who delight in and bathe in the vibrations of wild
excitement
just as children play in the surf. It is they who supply and
constantly
reinforce the energy which is expended with such terrible
recklessness.
It is they who try to keep up the level of the excitement, so long
as
they can find any human beings who can be dragged into the vortex and induced
to
give them the pleasurable sensations which they desire.
The
emotion, remember, is emphatically not of a high type, for it is intensely
personal.
It is always motived by an exalted egoism, the desire to save one' s
own
soul; so that the dominant idea is a selfish one. That defines the kind of
matter
which is set in motion in these tremendous swirlings, and that again
limits
the nature-spirits who enjoy it to such types as find themselves in tune
with
that kind of matter. These are naturally by no means the highest types;
they
are usually creatures without much intelligence or comprehension,
understanding
nothing about their human victims; and quite unable to save them
from
the consequences of their mad excitement, even if they could be supposed to
care
to do so.
This
then is the hidden side of such a movement; this is what the clairvoyant
sees
when he watches one of these most astonishing meetings. He sees a number of
human
beings who are taken out of themselves, whose higher vehicles are for the
time
being no longer their own, but are being used to supply this torrent of
energy.
All these people are pouring out their emotions in order to make a vast
astral
whirlpool into which these great nature-spirits throw themselves with
intense
delight, plunging and flying through it again and again in wild
abandonment of utter pleasure. For they can abandon themselves to plea