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Theosophy House
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 Bond Street where for a guinea fee the veil of
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 Niagara.
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
-------Cardiff Theosophical Society in Wales-------
206 Newport Road, Cardiff, Wales, UK. CF24-1DL
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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.
LIBERTY OF
ACTION
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.
-------Cardiff Theosophical Society in Wales-------
206 Newport Road, Cardiff, Wales, UK. CF24-1DL
http://www.theosophywales.org.uk http://www.theosophycardiff.org
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
midnight is worth two after it.” The work of this physical
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