Entangled Karma

Printed in the Fall 2012 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Mills, Joy "Entangled Karma
" Quest  100. 4 (Fall 2012): pg. 136-138.

By Joy Mills 

Theosophical Society - Joy Mills is known throughout the Theosophical world as an extraordinary student of the Ageless Wisdom tradition. Having authored numerous books and countless journal articles, in 2010 she was presented with the prestigious Subba Row medal for outstanding contributions to Theosophical literature.

I am not a scientist, but science, particularly quantum physics, intrigues me. Recently I came upon a book entitled Entangled Minds by Dean Radin, a senior scientist at the Institute of Noetic Sciences in Petaluma, California, which advances the thesis that the concept of entanglement in quantum theory may explain psychic faculties and parapsychological phenomena. I have become sufficiently emboldened to suggest that this concept might well apply to a well-known and long accepted principle in numerous spiritual traditions—the law of karma.  Radin does point out early in his book that there are "two flavors of stupidity: Just Plain Stupid and Mentally Deficient." To avoid being categorized under one or other of those two "flavors," I propose to tread cautiously on some unexplored aspects of karma, raising more questions than I intend to answer in any definitive manner.

First, what is entanglement? It appears that the word was first used by the noted physicist Erwin Schradinger to describe the connection between separated particles that persists regardless of distance. Einstein's famous remark that entanglement is "spooky action at a distance" perhaps encapsulates the phenomenon best. Could it be that connections persist not only over great expanses of space, but also over vast periods of time?

It is recognized that the concept of reincarnation calls for an understanding of the manner by which past existences influence the present. The Buddhist doctrine of the skandhas (or "aggregates"), for example, provides an explanation of the way by which the characteristics or attributes of one personality persist over time and space to influence or constitute the personality of the succeeding life. Beyond the need to offer explanations of how past "lives" might account for present personality traits, tendencies, or capacities, there are other questions that entanglement raises if we dare to apply the idea to such metaphysical notions as karma and rebirth.

First, however, let us put those two ideas—karma and rebirth or reincarnation—into a larger context. These concepts become meaningful when we conceive of the universe as a single organism composed of a vast number of lesser organisms, all interconnected in an immense variety of grades of consciousness and development. The universe is itself undergoing a great evolutionary process, an evolution of consciousness. This process is progressive, moving toward a desirable spiritual goal, which we might define as a "self-revelation (svabhavat) of the Absolute." The individual human entity is to be an active (that is, self-conscious) part of this process, and the best human life is one that promotes the evolution of the whole toward its ultimate goal. The process is, moreover, orderly, purposeful, and in the truest sense lawful. Therefore H.P. Blavatsky defines karma as "the Ultimate Law of the Universe, the source, origin and fount of all other laws which exist throughout Nature. Karma is the unerring law which adjusts effect to cause, on the physical, mental and spiritual planes of being. As no cause remains without its due effect from greatest to least, from a cosmic disturbance down to the movement of your hand, and as like produces like, Karma is that unseen and unknown law which adjusts wisely, intelligently and equitably each effect to its cause, tracing the latter back to its producer" (Blavatsky, Key to Theosophy, 121—22; emphasis here and in other quotes is in the original). Or as one of Blavatsky"s adept teachers phrased it: "We recognise but one law in the Universe, the law of harmony, of perfect equilibrium" (Chin, 282).

Perhaps we should pause for a moment to consider the use of the term "law" in connection with karma. Usually we consider a law as a rule or edict external to ourselves, imposed by some authority, legislative or judicial. Karma, however, is the principle inherent in the very nature of the universe. As the Mahatma states in the letter quoted above: "Immutable laws...are eternal and uncreated, propelled in the Eternity" (Chin, 282). Or as one student once expressed the concept, "karma is the habit of universal and eternal nature." It is the way the universe, and all that is within it, behaves.

If karma is simply inherent in the way the universe behaves, a mannerism, as it were, of universal nature (there may be other ways in which universes operate), and if the universe and all within it are involved in an evolutionary process toward a desired goal, the processes we call karma and rebirth present us with positive opportunities to achieve both growth and progressive development. In other words, when properly understood the process is not retributive, arising out of actions in the past, but educative, utilizing both past and present actions (at whatever level—physical, emotional, mental, etc.) as learnings for developing capacities and faculties for the future. Furthermore, both karma and rebirth are purposeful, the tools by which the evolution or unfoldment of consciousness is achieved. They are not to be viewed as burdens to be endured, as the price paid for past pains and pleasures. Nor are they deterministic, as there is a place for human choice in the process (although that place needs to be carefully delineated). Choice, in fact, is the unique quality which we, at the human stage, must bring to the evolutionary process, although to explore that topic here would take us far afield, involving as it necessarily would a complete review of the awakening of the mind, with its numerous potentials, at the appropriate stage of human evolution.

The doctrine of karma needs to be seen as crucial for the individual"s spiritual life: each individual will respond according to the level of spiritual development achieved over the course of successive incarnations. Karma, in such a view—as educational rather than retributive—must be understood as more than just acts, thoughts, deeds, feelings in any one life, but above all as the volition, the intention underlying whatever one does at any level of spiritual unfoldment. Here we may recall the statement in The Mahatma Letters that "the whole individuality is centred in the three middle or 3rd, 4th, and 5th principles. During earthly life it is all in the fourth, the centre of energy, volition—will" (Chin, 123). The fourth principle is kama or emotion, and here indeed, at that level, are some of our toughest problems or karmic lessons. If we recognize the importance of the volitional aspect of karma, the concept takes on a moral significance, even a providential force, which points to a creative and redemptive possibility in every situation. It is not a question of whether the situation is painful or pleasurable, but of what it teaches us, what lesson there is in it for our spiritual growth. Above all, we need to examine our intention as we respond to both painful and pleasurable conditions in our lives.

Now as we attempt to set the notions of karma and rebirth in the larger context of a worldview that posits One Life, One Consciousness, One Law, we may turn to the concept of entanglement as a useful key to unlocking some of the mysteries in those two great principles. If a connection continues to exist between two particles once fused together but now separated, if connections exist between the fluttering of butterfly wings on one continent with tidal waves on the shores of far distant islands, then what of the effect of my thoughts, feelings, actions, intentions as these ripple out across time and space? If all things are interlinked and remain so despite seeming separations, then how do I distinguish causes from what I consider to be effects? Are not those causes themselves effects of previous causes? And is not this whole vast cosmic system simply the child of a previous such system and the parent of the next? What comes to mind are the words used by HPB in the opening stanza of that mysterious text, The Stanzas of Dzyan, on which she based The Secret Doctrine. Translating from an unknown tongue, she wrote that the universe was "once again" in a state of nonexistence (Blavatsky, Secret Doctrine, 1:27). According to HPB, we are in the "Fourth Round" of the present manifestation, whatever that may mean, although surely it must mean that we have all been through this before!

Perhaps one of HPB"s most fascinating discussions about karma occurred in one of the last meetings of the Blavatsky Lodge in London of which we have a record. During a meeting on June 6, 1889, HPB is asked if there is such a thing as unmerited suffering, to which she responds: "Very often you have sufferings through causes generated by other persons, of which you are not guilty at all." Later she adds, "Very often you suffer for things you have never committed, but you simply happen to fall under this current...You suffer tremendously, and you suffer that which is not merited, and then you have to have an adequate bliss and reward for it" (Gomes, 597). During that session, HPB spoke further on the subject of free will as well as on other aspects of karma, including accidents, which she called the "commas and semicolons" of existence, adding that they are not "preordained."

A major question which naturally arises when we consider entangled karma is the extent to which there is such a thing as personal karma. We are all accustomed to speaking of my karma or your karma, as though I and you were so completely separate that no relationship existed between us. Yet if all that exists is rooted in the One, must there not exist some kind of relationship, so that whatever I do or think or feel must reverberate or resonate across time and space to affect all other sentient beings? On a very practical level, to what extent is it karmic that my small bank account is affected by the global financial crisis? Or, to take a more useful example, if someone whom I may not even know is terminally ill (which is usually thought of as a karmic condition), to what extent are my thoughts of healing of any benefit whatsoever?

Many other questions arise as we consider the implications of entanglement. And if that concept provides at least a possible explanation for psychic and parapsychic events, why may it not be useful in considering such universal principles as periodicity and causality (or even acausal phenomena)? Since connections continue to exist between particles of matter however much those particles appear to be severed, what of the currents that flow, the connections that always exist, between what I consider to be myself as an independent entity and all other beings in this wondrously beautiful universe, however separate each of them may appear and whether they are viewed as beautiful or ugly?

Truly we live in an entangled universe, and all its modes of behavior are subject to the same universal laws. Karma is but one expression of those laws, the singular expression that ever seeks harmony and equilibrium as we journey on the evolutionary path of ever-expanding consciousness, from the One home to the One. Welcome, all our fellow pilgrims, at whatever stage you may be, mineral, plant, animal, human, adept. We may appear to be separate notes in the great symphony of life, but sound any note and all other notes will respond. Yes, that is karma.

SOURCES 

Blavatsky, H.P. The Key to Theosophy. Wheaton: Quest, 1972.

———. The Secret Doctrine. Two volumes. Wheaton: Quest, 1978.

Chin, Vicente Hao, Jr., ed. The Mahatma Letters to A.P. Sinnett in Chronological Sequence. Manila: Theosophical Publishing House, 1998.

Gomes, Michael, ed. The Secret Doctrine Commentaries: The Unpublished 1889 Instructions. The Hague: I.S.I.S. Foundation, 2010.

Radin, Dean. Entangled Minds: Extrasensory Experiences in a Quantum Reality. New York: Paraview Pocket Books, 2006.


Joy MIlls was president of the Theosophical Society in America from 1965 to 1974. Her works include One Hundred Years of  Theosophy: A History of the Theosophical Society in America; The One True Adventure: Theosophy and the Quest for Meaning; and Reflections on an Ageless Wisdom A Commentary on the Mahatma Letters to A.P. Sinnett. She was interviewed in the Summer 2011 issue of Quest.


Mainstreaming Theosophy: An Interview with Vicente Hao Chin, Jr.

Printed in the Fall 2012 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation:Smoley, Richard. "Mainstreaming Theosophy: An Interview with Vicente Hao Chin, Jr.
" Quest  100. 4 (Fall 2012): pg. 130-135.

by Richard Smoley 

Vicente Hao Chin, Jr., is one of the world's most distinguished Theosophists. Past president of the Theosophical Society in the Philippines and founder and chairman of the Golden Link School. He is author of Why Meditate? and The Process of Self-Transformation: Mastery of the Self and Awakening of Our Higher Potentials. He also compiled, edited, and published the chronological edition of The Mahatma Letters to A. P. Sinnett and is editor of Theosophical Digest, published in the Philippines, and associate editor of Theosopedia: The Internet Theosophical Encyclopedia. This interview was conducted during his visit to the Olcott campus in February 2012.

Richard Smoley: Could you begin by telling about some of the work that you and the TS have been doing in the Philippines? What are your most successful efforts, do you think?

Vicente Hao Chin: Well, it has been many years, a period of twenty to thirty years. We have entered into various facets of publication, education, social work, and other things. One of the major areas we went into in the past few years was the establishment of schools. We have four schools right now. They start from kindergarten and go up to the bachelor level. We have five courses: two in education, one in psychology, one in information technology, and one in business administration. But what is probably unique in these courses, including in the high school, would be the Theosophical element. For example, all college students will go through one semester of courses on Theosophy, on comparative religion, on self-transformation, then on marriage and parenting. Then they go through an annual youth camp. These are all for character building. And so they go through an "atmosphere"; for several years they are actually exposed to a way of life instead of simply academic courses.

Next year we are going to open up a fifth school in another place, because a lot of our members have shown a deep interest in this area of work. We think that is a major direction of TS work, because there is a general perception that we don't give as much attention to young people. But they will be the adults of the future. If we don't give attention to them, their conditioning, the way they are being brought up will be the traditional way, and this would just bring us to the same kind of society we have been complaining about. So we must start from a young age. We'd like to expand this work, even to youth development. Not just education, but go out into the society and have youth centers or youth camps—or education sponsorship programs that will gather young people into a certain community such that they will receive very wholesome influences, even if they're not our students.

Now this requires a lot of qualified manpower resources. And this is the part that is not easy. It will take years to nurture and develop the people who will be able to do these things.

Smoley: What is the spiritual climate of the Philippines today?

Chin: There is growing interest in spirituality, but, as in most countries, it is the normal religious culture that prevails. We are 85 percent Catholic, 10 percent Protestant, and 5 percent Muslim and others. So the influence of the Catholic Church is dominant. But fortunately, because of the dissemination work of the TS in the Philippines, primarily through the Theosophical Digest, the perception of the public, especially the Catholic Church, has changed towards the TS. Twenty or thirty years ago, they would think of us as a cult. But now generally they don't. We get a lot of invitations from religious orders and Catholic colleges and universities. They invite us to give seminars for their faculty members and students and training programs for their teachers, and they subscribe to the Theosophical Digest.

In fact, there is a very large Jesuit university in the Philippines called Xavier University. Every year for the past eight years, they have asked us to conduct the first part of their six-month program for international workers, social workers, priests, and so on. And we always have a segment on self-transformation.

Smoley: Could you tell us a little bit more about the self-transformation project?

Chin: This was developed more than twenty years ago. It was initially meant to bridge the gap between Theosophical principles and daily life. I remember one time my lodge, which is a very big lodge, was discussing brotherhood. The way it was being discussed was quite unbrotherly, and I realized that if these concepts are true, they must be applicable to daily life. Not just when one becomes a disciple, but now, with family—with wife or husband and so on. The whole self-transformation program was built up in order to address practically all facets of daily life, serving as a foundation for the spiritual life. Because it's not possible to pursue the spiritual life if I'm overwhelmed daily by anger, resentment, hurt, or depression. We need to deal with these psychological barriers, because if my mind keeps on going to my hurt or resentment, I have no energy for meditation or spiritual things; my energy is occupied with all these things that draw me uselessly in certain directions.

These seminars have been able to help numerous people who are depressed, who have phobias, who have problems in relationship, who have fear of failure, fear of the future, fear of death, and so on. A lot of people have asked us to conduct the seminar for them, and we actually offer it for free. We don't charge anything. They just take care of the venue, the food, the place they are going to stay. And we do this for almost anybody. We have conducted the program within the Society and shared it with schools, institutions, groups, businesses, even the military, and of course colleges and universities, as well as religious orders. We have conducted this program for a national gathering of Carmelite sisters, and they felt that it helped their spirituality. Now that's a very high compliment, coming from the Carmelite order.

For young people we have converted this into a youth camp. The seminar itself is three days long, but for the youth camp we made it four days because we put in a lot of activities for young people. We call it Golden Link Youth Camp. We've been running it for more than ten years. And it works so well that in four days' time we have had an impact on young people. Formerly they would be black sheep or problems to their families. After the four days the parents would tell us that something happened to their children, and that they feel very proud of what their children are now.

After these many years of feedback, we decided if young people can be affected in four days' time, what more could happen if they were with us for a whole semester, or a whole school year? So we began to look into putting up a regular school. And this led to Golden Link School. That's why it's called Golden Link, because it started with Golden Link Youth Camp. After about seven years, we were able to start a college department for tertiary levels. We offered, first, bachelor degrees in education. We like to focus on education, because we feel it's very important to introduce another way of teaching to the normal educational world, one in which we don't put in things that are harmful to young people. When they threaten, when they punish, when they humiliate, they think they are motivating, but they are actually harming young people, making them lose their self-confidence and self-esteem. We don't have those things in our schools. We don't even have competitions or contests. We don't use fear. We don't punish students, and yet our level of self-discipline on the campus is, I think, much better than the average school.

In fact, we have developed a reputation among parents that if somebody has a son or daughter who is really a problem, send them to Golden Link School. And they feel we can handle it and do something about it. That's a nice reputation, because we accept students who are expelled from other schools and find it hard to enroll in other schools, but we accept them. So long as they don't harm others, we don't expel them. Even if academically they're doing very poorly.

Smoley: What's your impression of the TS in America? How do our efforts resemble yours and how do they differ?

Chin: During this trip I learned a lot of things from my sessions in Krotona and here. For example, I realized that Theosophical work must consider the differences in culture. Words that may be OK in the Philippines or in India may not be all right in the U.S. Certain concepts, certain ways of doing things may be all right in Asia but not here. So I realized that while the principle is common, we must be sensitive to the differences in culture.

Second is that I think the TS in America is leading in practically all facets of Theosophical work. You are doing things that many of us are not doing at all, like Webcasting, Webinars. This is the wave of the future. Because, in the Philippines, we are talking about 97 million people; in the U.S. you have 300 million people. The only way to reach them now is not to bring them together in one place but to reach them through their computers. I think you are setting the example for ways of doing this effectively. I spent some time today learning about these things because we'd like to experiment with them in the Philippines. We can't afford your equipment, but we can do it in a more modest way.

Smoley: You were instrumental in publishing the chronological edition of the Mahatma Letters. I'm wondering if you could say a little bit about what the Mahatma Letters offer to the seeker today.

Chin: The Mahatma Letters are a unique body of information and wisdom that's not found anywhere else. Here are adepts, mahatmas, Masters of the Wisdom—those who have already reached the apex of human growth and development—writing not just on lofty spiritual subjects but on daily issues. This gives us a glimpse about the way that these great personages think and act. And in those letters, we find some of the profoundest statements about the wisdom that we cannot find in any other literature, not even The Secret Doctrine. Hence, while some people have reservations about their publication, I believe it has been a great blessing to the Theosophical world.

Smoley: How did the chronological edition come about?

Chin: At the time I felt that these letters must be organized in a different way than they had been. I felt first they must be organized according to the dates of the letters. Second, there must be some explanation of what they are talking about in a given letter. So that led to the chronological edition. We are now planning to put this all on the Web, and we think this will be a revolution in the study of the Mahatma Letters. And this will be up, I suppose, within this year. I am very excited about making available, not only the Mahatma Letters, but also the facsimiles of the original letters. That's a tremendous development.

Smoley: Could you say a little bit about your own personal search? How did you come to Theosophy, and what has it meant in your life?

Chin: I suppose my restlessness for these things came from previous lives because I already felt this even when I was young. I lived in a city far from Manila. And in that area, nobody talks about these things. There are no books on them. I had to order books that, to me, were so valuable but were so expensive because sometimes I had to write to the U.S. to order them.

It was after I was exposed to yoga—through a certain organization in the Philippines, where I learned raja yoga, meditation, and mantra yoga—that one of my companions said, "Oh, there's a library over there with all these books." I was in Manila at the time. And I was so excited to hear about that, and the next day I went there. It was closed and I had to return. It was the TS library. And when I went there, I met the people. Just the first few times, I saw photos of people—I didn't even know who they were. But somehow, there was a sense of this is home.

In fact, at that time I said something to myself quite personal, which was strange because I was new to the building and the TS. And yet in later years it proved that it was true. While I became active in other movements—spiritualism, Buddhist groups, Taoist groups, and other things; psychic surgery, psychic healing—it was the TS that I actually gravitated towards. I felt an affinity with this kind of a world. And it's made a tremendous difference in the way I have lived.

It's fortunate for me to have encountered this when I was about twenty-one because I was still malleable—to change my own character, personality, worldview. And I feel very fortunate that I encountered Theosophy because it was nondogmatic. I felt free to agree or disagree—to search from a wide variety of literature—and then arrive at my own convictions. I realized I couldn't live under an authoritarian organization that imposes dogmas. I couldn't. I grew up a Catholic, and there's no way I could survive under such an atmosphere. I can't believe in hell, I can't believe in a vindictive God, I can't believe in a God that repents. Or a God that massacres humans, entire cities. So what does that make of me? Am I still a Catholic?

When I went and joined a yoga organization, I was also being asked to believe certain things. I think what they were asking me to believe in was quite OK, but still I wasn't sure at the time. And so I felt hesitant. I couldn't be untrue to myself and say I believe when I have doubts. It was in the TS that I had this room and freedom first to be myself as I am right now. Maybe I'm still ignorant, but I'm not being asked to believe. That's what I like about the TS. It has this profound wisdom, yet it has enough faith in this wisdom to leave people free. And it has affected the way I have become a husband, a father, a businessman, a person involved in society—the way I've dealt with my own conflicts and emotions, my own depression, my own fears. All these were changed because of my exposure to Theosophy.

For this reason I believe Theosophy really has a tremendous message for the world. I've studied Christianity, studied Buddhism and other things, and in all of these traditions, there is this core teaching that should really be brought out to the public to the outer world. To me it doesn't matter if you call it Theosophy or Catholicism. But there is such a wisdom, and it must be taught in schools. That's the reason why we felt we should have schools that would combine academic subjects with life skills and wisdom, and introduce these to other schools, in some way or the other.

Smoley: I'm wondering if you have anything you want to say or add in addition to what we've already spoken about.

Chin: On Theosophy and the TS, one of the things that has been coming back constantly to my mind is our work in the future. Most of us have spent twenty, thirty, forty years in the work, and one of these days we will die, we will just leave all of this behind. And we need to prepare the next generation of people in our respective sections about the future work of the TS. Looking back not only in the Philippines but also in many of the mature sections, I believe that we now have the means, the literature, and the wisdom to be able to start mainstreaming Theosophy. What I mean is, let this applied wisdom be part of common public consciousness, not just among Theosophists. So this is one way in which we should try to bring Theosophical insights to the world and mainstream them—into education, into magazines, Web sites, even television. And how do we do so?

The first facet is to correct any misimpression about what the words "Theosophy" or "Theosophical Society" mean. A lot of people may have a wrong impression, and because of that they don't want anything to do with Theosophy. It is our obligation to correct this impression. Hence we must have a collective effort to broadcast what Theosophy is in one or two sentences, so that people who may not be interested in Theosophy in depth will at least have a correct idea about what we are.

Then, because impact must come from practice, from a way of life, we must go into the second stage. What are the things that we have to offer to the world, to family life, married life, to social conflicts, to depression, to problems and internal conflicts of people? We have a lot. Why don't we offer these and make them a part of mainstream society as practices, part of institutions, part of schools, part of the value system of society? People may not follow them, but at least they will know that there is such a thing. To do so, we ourselves must translate Theosophical principles into practice. And I think we will have to do this for many decades. Putting up a school, for example, is very difficult, it demands decades of commitment. And yet until we do so, we cannot demonstrate that Theosophical education works better than standard education.

So the introduction of these practices to the fabric of human society, I think, is a task that all sections must do, in all their countries. And in our own small way, we are doing this in the Philippines. We just opened a vegetarian restaurant a week before I left.

The third part is we must prepare ourselves. Neither of these two things will ever be done effectively unless we have the people to do so. We must live in a certain manner that will be a model to other people. We're not perfect, but at least we may be just one notch better on the average because we value this outlook and way of life and we try to live it. If we cannot do so, then Theosophy has no value at all. If we are internally always squabbling, quarreling, and doing injury to one another, then we are not the best examples of the wisdom.

In addition would be the development of a core of advocates, workers, speakers, representatives of the TS. There is a dearth of these all over the world. In the Philippines, we have a lot of demands for seminars and youth camps, but we are only a very small group. Ten years ago we said, "We are going to train a hundred facilitators!" We found that we couldn't do it. So I realized that we have to look at this in terms of decades and generations. Whatever we do, it must not stop when we die. It must go on. This way of working must be institutionalized in the sense that it must be part of the system and not dependent on a very active leader. It should be something that goes on whether you have a bright, brilliant leader or just an ordinary, average leader. I believe that is one area we must look at for all of us in the future. The more we synergize, the more effective this will be.

And that's the reason I value trips like this. I have discussions with people, and we help each other and share resources. There is no point in dividing ourselves between the TS in the Philippines and the TS in America because it is a global work. It is the work of people who are concerned about humanity, about the future, about peacefulness and harmony. And this is not just of the people of the TS but all people who have similar dreams about the future world. The name "Theosophical Society" is just a name for this century. Maybe in another century it will be something else. There was no TS 140 years ago, but the wisdom has always been there. So it's the way of life and the wisdom that we must try to embed into the fabric of regular society. I think that's our work for the future.


From the Editor's Desk Summer 2012

Printed in the Summer 2012 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Smoley, Richard. "From the Editor's Desk
" Quest  100. 3 (Summer 2012): pg. 82.

Theosophical Society - Richard Smoley is editor of Quest: Journal of the Theosophical Society in America and a frequent lecturer for the Theosophical SocietyI had a friend, now deceased, who ran a small eso­teric school in London. One time he told me he had made a flag for that school for the purposes of some exercise or another, using some bits of cloth that he put together.

"Who knows?" I said half-jokingly. "Maybe someday there will be people who will die for that flag."

He looked at me sharply and said, "When an impulse begins to die, allegiance to it increases."

To my mind this remark, however offhand it may have been, says more about the religious history of humanity than dozens of learned volumes. How many people over the centuries have died for crosses and crescents and stars while utterly traducing the teach­ings that these symbols represent? You could even say that the frantic allegiance of today's fundamentalists reveals, not a resurgence of their religions, but a kind of horrible death agony.

And yet allegiance is necessary, or at any rate inevi­table. If you have no allegiance to anything, you are a nihilist. If you have no allegiance to anything apart from yourself, you are what is politely called a sociopath, and what is impolitely called by many other names.

The question is, then, to what do we owe allegiance? In the Theosophical movement, many feel that their pri­mary allegiance is to H. P. Blavatsky and the teachings that she brought to the world. And Blavatsky remains an inspiring character, whether she is seen as a pure, much-maligned soul or as a blunt-spoken brawler who knew how to throw a punch as well as take one.

The problem with this attitude lies in determining what to do with Blavatsky's ideas today. Are they to be taken for Gospel, from which one iota cannot be added or subtracted without incurring heavy curses? Obvi­ously not. Blavatsky herself stressed the highly provi­sional nature of her work, saying that much of it was left unfinished and that it was for those in the future to complete. Furthermore, language changes and sensi­bilities change, and the same idea written down in 1890 does not read in the same way in 2012. You only need look at the classic Theosophical use of the term "ego" to see this. Originally it meant a higher, transcendent Self, but today it usually means the lower personal self as opposed to the higher Self. All sorts of confusion are possible unless you understand this.

There is a poignant, almost tragic truth about the transmission of sacred traditions. The one who changes them as he carries them on is a betrayer, making adjustments here and there that may prove misleading or dangerous. But the one who carries them on without changing anything betrays them as well. It does no service to a tradition to preserve it inflexibly in a world that, as the Buddhists remind us, is based on impermanence.

Given this, on what terms does one interact with an esoteric tradition, whether it be Theosophy or any­thing else? There's much to be said for faith in what you know through your own experience as opposed to hearsay or book learning. In the Kabbalah students are sometimes told to preface anything they have heard or read with the phrase "It is said that . . ." and to use categorical statements only in speaking of things that they know firsthand. This prevents the student from telling an unintentional lie by stating something that he does not know to be a fact through personal experience.

So, then, are we to give allegiance to what we know? (I am talking about esoteric, experiential knowledge here as opposed to mere conceptual learning.) This is undoubtedly a better solution than enslaving yourself to flags and slogans. But it too presents a trap. What we know is inevitably limited—sometimes ridiculously so. To give ultimate allegiance to that closes off the pos­sibility of further enlightenment. It may even lead to bigotry and fanaticism.

Thus blind allegiance should not even be given to knowledge. There is too much that we do not know, and what we may discover tomorrow may invalidate every­thing we know today. We need to have the honesty and courage to face that fact.

All this said, there is, I think, one thing in ourselves that we can trust. It is not any body of knowledge that we may have accumulated, whether through reading or through experience. Rather it is what could be called the "knower," that often-overlooked but essential part of one's being that is capable of seeing and recognizing truth in any context, and—which is at least as impor­tant—of recognizing when it does not know something. In this way it is always open and available to further knowledge. If we remain in contact with this deep, knowing aspect of our own being, which enjoys and appreciates truth in whatever form it may take, we will be saved from making many mistakes. In addition, I would suggest, we will be giving the fullest honor to the roots of Theosophy or whatever tradition we may embrace. 

Richard Smoley


The Untold Story

Printed in the Summer 2012 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Boyd, Tim. "The Untold Story
" Quest  100. 3 (Summer 2012): pg. 84-85.

Tim Boyd
National President

Theosophical Society - Tim Boyd was elected the president of the Theosophical Society Adyar in 2014. He succeeded Radha Burnier.I had an uncle, my favorite uncle, who died several years ago. Uncle John was a remarkable man in terms of his accomplishments in life, but more so because of his generosity of spirit and unconventional ways of thinking. As a student he worked long hours in very difficult circumstances to put himself through col­lege and then medical school. In his fifties he decided that family practice was no longer satisfying, went back to school for three years, and became what he had always been in his heart of hearts—a psychiatrist. He was the uncle that would take us fishing, show us how to build a bicycle, and tell us stories about his life and the things he had seen.

After years of hearing his array of stories, it got to the point that once a story started I knew where it was going. I had heard it all before, multiple times. For my brothers, cousins, and me, we could almost mouth the words—"this may be your fishing line, but it's my ocean," when he was recounting an angry fellow fish­erman's remarks about whose fish was at the end of their tangled lines; "pumping out oil and pumping in seawater has to affect the fault," spoken each time we passed the oil rigs near a break in the earth where the San Andreas fault surfaced on the way to Los Ange­les airport. What amazed me was, each time he told a familiar tale, how fresh it would be for him, as if it were the first time these words had crossed his lips.

Then there was a completely different category of stories he would tell—enigmatic stories. He would often recount incidents that we had been involved in together, drawing out the motivations of the various characters. These stories were more along the "call and response" line, where he requested and expected input, where the listeners would be called upon to remember not just the story line but their thoughts and motivation for the part they played. These were more challenging because they demanded a level of inner attention and awareness that often eluded me. As kids will do, we mostly just did things first and maybe thought about it later. Just to move things along, I often found myself nodding my head in agreement as my uncle talked.

All of this introspective participation could be a little demanding. After one of these sessions I would walk away feeling stretched and sometimes even a lit­tle unsettled, as if I had been reaching for something I could not quite grasp. These stories would end, but you never had the feeling that they were finished. No solid conclusion had been reached, and you were left with more questions than when they began.

Later in life I would encounter a letter written by the mystical poet Rainer Maria Rilke that put these story sessions into perspective.  

I beg you to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms, or books written in a very for­eign language. Don't search for the answers which could not be given you now because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now, perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without ever noticing it, live your way into the answer. 

Uncle John was a good storyteller, and whether it was the repetition of the stories and their themes or the poignancy of the stories themselves, much of what he said stuck with me into my adult life.

It has been a long time since those childhood days, and much has changed. One thing that has remained is that I still love a good story, well told. In fact my sense of the need and value of good stories has increased since I have become consciously involved in a spiritual path. When I think about the people that I have known who show signs of being touched by a higher con­sciousness, one of the qualities they all seem to have is a love of story. Much of the literature that forms the scriptural foundations for the world's spiritual tradi­tions are in large part storybooks—the Bible, Rama­yana, Mahabharata, Qur'an, Talmud. Why is that? What is it about stories that makes them so universally employed to communicate deep things?

Genuine spiritual teachers, now and in the past, encounter the same problem: recognizing the limits of language, how can we communicate something of the nature of the inner life? Lao Tzu, in the first verse of the Tao Te Ching, states that "the Tao [Truth or Way] that can be spoken is not the eternal Tao." H.P. Blavatsky, in the proem to The Secret Doctrine, speaks of "an Omni­present, Eternal, Boundless, and Immutable PRINCIPLE on which all speculation is impossible . . . It is beyond the range and reach of thought ... 'unthinkable and unspeakable.'" In the legends of Buddha's life, when he had his experience of enlightenment, he determined that the expanse of his realization could not be com­municated and decided that he would make no attempt to teach. Ultimately, Buddha, like other great teachers, took it upon himself to make the attempt. Much of that effort involved the symbolic language of story.

The beauty and the problem of stories that address spiritual realities is that they adopt familiar figures and relationships as symbols for deeper truths. Take the example of the first stanza from the Book of Dzyan: "The eternal parent wrapped in her ever-invisible robes had slumbered once again for seven eternities." We all know what a parent is; we know what robes are and what sleep is. So even though this stanza is addressing an utterly abstract phase of the unfoldment of the cosmos, before anything has come into being, we have some indication of the process. This is not some­thing that lends itself to the normal analytic turns of thinking, Stories of this type not only require a higher faculty for a proper understanding, but seem to call it out of us.

I have come to feel that the people who first told these stories, the great spiritual teachers, were not only wise but clever. They had a deep understanding of the human mind and its limitations, and developed  ways to address it. Many of the most profound stories are simple tales, much like the children's stories par­ents around the world recite to kids to fire their imagi­nations. Throughout history the great teachers have recognized that, in spite of our own inordinately high regard for our level of advancement, we are essentially a childlike humanity, filled with fears of the dark and unknown, and with a fascination for toys. And so they tell us stories that relieve our fears; they speak to us about divine parental figures; they give us toys, games, and costumes for religious performances; they tell us about other worlds and superhuman powers. As if we were climbing a ladder, they lead us step by step to a place where the rungs end, to a place that goes beyond storytelling to the untold story. Like the finger point­ing at the moon, the value of a deep story lies beyond itself. It demands from us a "leap of faith," an open­ing of the spiritual intuition. One of the great strengths of the Theosophical tradition has been its unwaver­ing focus on the importance of accessing the intuition. Regardless of our religious approach, or lack of one, genuine understanding begins somewhere past where normal thinking ends.

Within each of us there is a story waiting to be heard. It speaks about who we are and how we came to be. It speaks softly, its voice drowned out by the press of our daily concerns shouting their needs like a chorus in our minds—family needs, happenings at the job, bills to pay, places to go, people to meet. The cho­rus of voices calling for our attention can seem almost endless, but still our story whispers, and sometimes we hear a word or two. It is mostly hidden and for­gotten, but every now and then something spurs us to remember some fragment of it. When we do, we feel strong, whole. Like in so many tales about the hero's journey, after great struggles, for a moment we feel reunited with our lost love. This is the great value of story. To remind us of what we already know in our depths; to help us to remember; to quiet us so that the "still, small voice," the "voice of the silence" can once again be heard. Nothing new is added. Nothing has to be done. Only listen, and hear.


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