Quest Magazine

Printed in the Spring 2012 issue of Quest magazine. Citation: Boyd, Tim. "The Clarity of Coincidence" Quest  100. 2 (Spring 2012): pg. 42. 

By Tim  Boyd 

One of the consistent experiences of people who have had a near death experience (NDE) is the life review where in one form or another the important actions and pattern of a lifetime are made clear. The review it is often the case that what in one's ordinary life had appeared meaningless or insignificant, is shown to be vitally important. Frequently this review of the events of an entire lifetime takes place in a few seconds of "real time". The immediate aftereffect of this experience is commonly a sense of purpose and direction.

 This extraordinary capacity for a vision which sees the whole and unerringly illumines with the light of a wholistic understanding is one expression of the spiritual intuition — in theosophical terminology, buddhi. While this expansive and illuminating intuition is an ever present potential for us, in our normal lives it seems inaccessible, or at best, sporadic. 

Certainly the drama and intense clarity of the NDE review will not be the norm for many of us, but our access to intuitive insight is perhaps more common than we acknowledge. It has a way of appearing in subtle ways and unsought moments . Often people access this part of themselves is in those moments of gratitude, absorption, or admiration - of the colors of Fall, a sunset, watching a baby take its first steps. Or it may come  in moments of crisis, or even despair, those times when we  momentarily stop recycling our list of worries, wants, and frustrations, allowing the blinding constraints of self-centeredness to briefly slip away. In those moments what is unveiled is a very pure vision — a dimension of the illumined mind (manas taijasi) — an inherent quality of the mind that knows without knowing why,  unobstructed by the noise and activity of our usual personal emotion and thought. 

When we look closely we can sometimes become aware of a mysterious pattern in our lives. Intuitions, synchronicities, promptings — the many forms for the whisperings of the inner self — seem to mark our lives, revealing a web of connection with a greater life. 

 In recent days I have found myself thinking about a time when the workings of this unconscious knowledge subtly, but profoundly affected my own life. At the relatively young age of nineteen, like most of my friends, I found myself in college stumbling through life, having a mixed bag of experiences, and trying to figure things out. Spirituality and consciousness were not on the radar for me. It would be safe to say that I fit the stereotype of the clueless teenager, thinking I knew a lot and at the same time feeling lost. With the clarity of hindsight it is easy to see signs of an inner movement and a series of "coincidences" that were subtly preparing me for what lay ahead. 

 The first in a series of coincidences occurred when a friend dropped me off at the bus station to return to college. In a casual conversation he mentioned fasting. He did not know anything about it, and I knew less. I think he had seen something about it on TV. When I got back to school I became the talk of the campus when for the next week I would come to the cafeteria at meal times and fill my tray with 4 or 5 glasses of juice and nothing else. On the bus back to school I had developed the firm conviction that I would try to fast, and in my mind a weeklong fast seemed like a reasonable time.

 There is the expression that "God looks after babies and fools". Looking back on my fasting episode, I can attest to the truth of it. During the week of my initial fast I continued to play vigorous sports, even competing in a basketball tournament. When I broke my fast it was with a stack of blueberry pancakes covered with Aunt Jemima syrup! Clearly the actions of a fool. Remarkably, in spite of my bad form, during the time I was fasting I experienced periods of clarity and mental focus that let me know there was something to this process. I would later discover a body of literature that addressed both the health and spiritual dimensions of fasting. 

Soon after my fasting episode I soon decided to become a vegetarian, not for health reasons, or because of the cruelty involved in an animal diet. I did not know, and had never known anyone who was an actual practicing vegetarian. At the time that I made the decision I was not impelled by any clear logic or base of knowledge. It was just something I felt I had to do. One immediate result was that I felt better — a little more energetic, a little more clear. Again, I later came across facts to support my findings. 

In one of those late night conversations that college students are famous, I remember my roommate and I recounting tales of all the fascinating, hip, and cool things we imagined we were doing and arriving at the conclusion that we really had it all together. The only thing we were missing, in our estimation, was that, we need direction! We both laughed at the incongruity of our braggadocio and the unvarnished realization that fundamentally we were lost. Although this exchange could have ended up as merely another idle college conversation, when I heard myself say those words I had the sense that a profound yearning had found its way to the surface. What to do about it? I did not have the faintest idea, but the recognition of the need stayed with me in an uncomfortable way. It is one thing to be lost and not know it — to be blissfully ignorant; it is something completely different when you know. 

Two months later found me traveling from my home in New York City to Chicago for spring break where, in what could be thought of as an utterly coincidental chain of events, I would meet a man I had not known existed who for the next thiteen  years would come to fill a role that had been unknown to me— that of  spiritual teacher. 

The term divine discontent, or divine discomfort has been used to describe the in-between state of "knowing" that there is something more, yet feeling separated from it. In the terminology of Buddhism we become aware that ordinary living is "unsatisfactory" — incapable of satisfying the newly sensed deeper need—and that only a radical restructuring of our outlook and approach will address it. One of the problems with awareness is that once you know something you cannot unknow it. Certainly many of us develop coping mechanisms to try to deny or forestall the necessary changes that a dawning awareness indicates. One strategy which is often employed is busyness. We involve ourselves in a host of activities — family, job, community, social pursuits — and convince ourselves that we just don't have time for inner work,  that maybe later when our schedule eases up we will address it. Ultimately the intense effort required to mask the discomfort is futile. In quiet and unexpected moments it breaks through. 

Francis Thompson's poem "The Hound of Heaven" describes the attempt to escape from the pursuing divinity (symbolized by the Hound) : 

I fled Him, down the nights and down the days;
  I fled Him, down the arches of the years;
I fled Him, down the labyrinthine ways
  Of my own mind; and in the mist of tears
I hid from Him

 The result of the effort is also described in various lines of the poem:  "All things betray thee, who betrayest Me." "Naught shelters thee, who wilt not shelter Me." "Lo naught contents thee, who content'st not Me."

 Most of us expend a lot of energy trying to avoid discomfort. If we were honest with ourselves, we could acknowledge that the times in our lives when we have experienced our greatest inner growth have often been times of extreme discomfort marked by crisis, uncertainty, even despair. These times in our lives seem to invite unexpected realizations. When the quick fix and the practiced response fall short, we find ourselves thrown back on deeper resources. At times like these some people do not merely call out for an answer, but take the unfamiliar step of also listening for a response. In this humbled state where the mind's capacity for the ready answer is superceded, we listen intently for the utterings of the "still small voice" of the intuition. The Sufi mystic Jallaludin Rumi said about this state, "Every need brings in what is needed. Having nothing produces provisions". Those provisions often arrive in circuitous and unexpected ways. 

In times of need, of "having nothing", an open and intense attention comes easily. The great teachers and mystics suggest that this is more than an emergency option. It can be a way of life, as dependable as the morning sunrise. Most of us will find this self emptying process daunting. We are not looking to feel uncomfortable or uncertain. But in the words of a Chinese saying, "To be uncertain is uncomfortable, but to be certain is ridiculous". There is a higher pattern of possibilities which reveals itself from moment to moment in all of those life events which can appear trivial, mundane, or coincidental. Let us try to embrace uncertainty with a watchful mind, patiently waiting for the clarity which must come.

Printed in the Spring 2012 issue of Quest magazine. Citation: Smoley, Richard. "From the Editor's Desk" Quest  100. 2 (Spring 2012): pg. 42. 

Looking in a bookstore in 2005, I came across a curious artifact: a finely bound volume containing the major works of Charles Darwin. Darwin's works are classics and certainly deserve a deluxe edition, but there was something strange about this one. It looked like an attempt to create a kind of Darwinian bible—a counterweight to the tide of theocracy that was supposedly sweeping the U.S. at that time.

Darwinism seems an odd thing to create a religion around. But a religion it has become, complete with its prophet (Darwin himself), scriptures, and orthodoxies like those of conventional Christianity. Today the best-known positions on the origins of life are the pure Darwinism of the true believers and the creationism or "intelligent design" of thinly disguised Christian apologists. From an esoteric point of view, both are inadequate.

It is true, as materialists argue, that science has discarded any need for a clockmaker God to interfere in the developments that cause species to originate. And yet there is something in the materialists' arguments that gives one pause. It is the relentless claim that the whole process is utterly blind and mechanistic. Purely blind processes don't explain the teleology of evolution&mdsh;the fact that it appears to be aimed in a certain direction, toward greater complexity and intelligence. If the process were exclusively random, evolution would be far more haphazard and would not necessarily produce greater complexity.

From an esoteric point of view, evolution is by no means random, but has a purpose and goal: the development of consciousness. Consciousness, as I've said in previous articles, can be defined as the capacity to relate self and other. This is not merely a dull, static awareness but involves an intense interaction between the self and the "other" that is the world.

Theosophy sees evolution as part of a much larger process that also includes involution. While the Theosophical literature discusses this dynamic in great depth, I would like to describe it in a slightly different way here.

The relationship between self and other is a multifarious one, encompassing many levels of reality. At subtle, nonphysical levels, the distinction is not as rigidly drawn as it is in the physical world. Here the interaction between self and world is fluid and, shall we say, shapeless; "I" and the world do not crystallize as they do in our dimension. This could correspond to what Indian philosophy calls the "formless" (arupa) realm.

As this relationship between self and other becomes increasingly fixed and static, the world manifests itself more clearly but also more rigidly. Forms arise, hence the realm of "form" or rupa. Even so, this level of existence is somewhat fluid. It is no doubt something like the world of dreams: the dreamer sees forms and shapes, but these are far more malleable than they are in waking reality, with things and even people often shifting and changing identities.

Finally, there is the level at which the polarity between self and other is at its most fixed. Here is where the world seems solid and (relatively) static, where individuals retain a consistent identity and things don't arbitrarily change into other things. This is the familiar physical world, and this is the stage at which involution, this process of increasing rigidity and solidity, begins to reverse itself.

Our current embodiment is thus the culmination of an immensely long process of involution. Evolution, whereby consciousness progressively detaches itself from its view of the world as solid and fixed, will also take place over eons, of which life on earth forms only a tiny part. The physical reality that we know is not the only one we have inhabited or will inhabit. Eventually, reality will begin to become fluid and permeable again. In our lives today this manifests as mystical experience, which usually only lasts for a few moments before evaporating. According to esoteric theory, however, what we now experience briefly and erratically will become more and more predominant. Our consciousness and embodiment will grow subtler and more rarefied, and we will be transformed in ways that we cannot now imagine.

In modern times this vision was first articulated by H. P. Blavatsky and her successors, but since then it has been expressed by many different philosophers,in the "creative evolution" of Henri Bergson, in the theories of Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, and in the thought of Sri Aurobindo. From these sources it has taken root in the human potential movement, whose theorists, when they speak of evolution, do not mean a mechanistic Darwinian process but something in which we as individuals can consciously participate.

Sometimes this awakening of human potential is characterized in terms of superior functioning, of superhuman achievements and paranormal capacities, but this is only part of the picture. In order to progress in a complete and genuine way, human evolution has to encompass the ethical dimension as well. It is not merely a matter of reading minds or breaking Olympic records but also a superior moral functioning, in the development of compassion and empathy that are now manifest only in the behavior of saints and illuminates. In the esoteric sense, "survival of the fittest" does not mean the survival of the strongest or the cruelest, but the triumph of the highest and best aspirations of the human soul.

Richard Smoley

Printed in the Spring 2012 issue of Quest magazine. Citation: Besant, Annie. "Occultism and Occult Training" Quest  100. 2 (Spring 2012): pg. 67-73. 

By Annie Besant 

Annie Besant (1847-1933) was one of the seminal figures in the Theosophical movement. Joining the Theosophical Society in 1889, she rapidly moved to the vanguard of leadership, and was elected president of the international TS in 1907, a position she held until her death. She was the author of numerous books, including Esoteric Christianity, Thought Power, A Study in Consciousness, and The Laws of the Higher Life, and was active in numerous social and political causes as well.

The little-known lecture reproduced here was given at the first annual congress of the Federation of European Sections of the Theosophical Society, held in Amsterdam in June 1904. TS member and Quest contributor Kurt Leland drew it to our attention as being a succinct and comprehensive survey of the occult path. The lecture is reproduced in full, with no changes except for the correction of typographical errors and some modernization of orthography and punctuation.   —Ed.

Occultism has been defined by H. P. Blavatsky as the study of the Divine Mind in Nature; and, taking it in its broadest and deepest sense, I do not think that we can better that definition—the study of the Universal Mind as shown forth in the universe. Now those who have made such study, and have given some of the results of their study to the world, tell us that the universe exists first in the Universal Mind-that it exists there as Idea before it comes into manifestation in the grosser forms of matter; and, as you know, that view of the universe is found in all the great philosophies and religions of the world. We find the Greek philosophers speaking of an intelligible world, then of an intellectual, and later of the worlds of grosser matter. We find the Hebrews speaking also of a world of Mind, of which the physical world is but a gross and rough reproduction. We find it stated in the teachings of the Hindus and Buddhists that the universe is but the thought of the Supreme. And Theosophy, dealing with this a little more closely and more precisely, as its fashion is, draws for us a picture of the beginnings of a universe in which these ideas in the Universal Mind are drawn out by the great Architects; and then the Builders take them from the Architects and shape them into grosser kinds of matter, mental, astral, and physical.

The occultist, in trying to carry on his studies, finds himself face to face with two kinds of evolution, along both of which he must go. He is bound by the very name of his study to devote himself to the understanding of the Divine Mind in Nature; and inasmuch as that mind manifests itself through form in subtle matter, on which the grosser forms are modeled, he finds it also necessary, in his study of the thoughts of the Supreme Thinker, to prepare himself for the observation of the subtle forms in which those thoughts are clothed. His evolution, then, must be twofold.

On the one side he must evolve his own consciousness, so that that consciousness, working on higher planes, may be able directly to contact, to see, to study, to vibrate with, the thoughts in those subtler worlds; and, while he is evolving his consciousness to be able to intuit those thoughts, he must also evolve his subtler vehicles in which that consciousness may function upon the higher planes, and so be able by the development of his subtler senses to observe the various forms on those planes and see their relations with the physical plane.

For when we say—as we say truly—that Mind underlies the universe, and when we say that Nature has a life-side, we are dealing with rather different kinds of ideas, although ideas that are closely allied. For, in studying the Mind that underlies the universe, we are clearly on the side where Form is not; we are in a realm of Ideas in the subtlest sense of the term, where formlessness (as is often said) is to be found. When we come to deal with the manifestation of these ideas in the worlds we call invisible, and also in the visible, then in those worlds invisible we have to do with what is called the life-side of Nature—for by that phrase we intend to say that Nature is no dead mechanism, no soulless apparatus: that all that science knows as forces or as energies are really expressions of subtle lives; that all those forms and energies in Nature that form one great part of the study of scientific men, are really, on the higher planes, living beings; and that these living beings express themselves on the physical plane as the forces or the energies of the physical universe.

So that we may trace down a line along which the occultist would study the evolution of the form-side in Nature. He would begin with the Logos of a system; he would pass from him to his Viceroys, those we call the Planetary Logoi, each ruling over a department of his own; and then he would see round each Planetary Logos the great Rulers of the Elements which are to be the fundamental forms of matter in that department of Nature. He would see there those who are called in Hindu parlance the Kings of the Shining Ones, those who have for their bodies the great Elements in nature-meaning by that word “Elements," not the chemical elements of the physical plane, but Elements as spoken of in ancient philosophies describing the types of material used in the shaping of a universe. So that we should find one of these elements, Earth; and one that we call Water—(not water on the physical plane, but on the plane above the physical, the astral); and then above that the plane of Fire; and above that the plane of Air; and above that still higher the plane of Akasha, the Ether—the five planes with which here we have to do, and two higher yet, at present unmanifested and to us unknown.

Now each of these Elements from the occult standpoint forms in its entirety the body of one of these great Kings of the Shining Ones, whose who in Christian parlance would be called the Seven Archangels, rulers of the angels, having each beneath him and under his control a vast angelic host. And the conception of the occultist with regard to such an immense life is that you have a great spiritual Intelligence, who has evolved in past universes and comes into this world to be one of the great Builders of a universe, having as his body all the matter which is of one kind. Thus one of these Beings would be clothed in Ether as a totality, and every force that played in the ether would be the working of his intelligence, the expression of his thoughts. Another would be clothed in the supernal Fire, and all forms of fiery matter would be his body, or made of the material of his body, and all the energies that play in those forms would be his thoughts, the life, the fire, the energy, that play in that fiery matter. And so on all the way down.

So that you have this conception of Nature—that it consists on the side of life in great spiritual Intelligences, each of them ruling over a vast department of Nature and each of them clothed in a particular kind of matter—matter which is one of the Elements in the ancient sense of the term. And when we come down to our physical plane, we find that each of these Elements and each of these great Beings has his own representative in the physical universe also; for that which is a subplane of matter in the higher world is a plane of matter in the physical universe, and each subplane in the physical corresponds with or represents a plane in the higher, and each element is reproduced in the physical as a subplane of the physical and gives its name to that subplane. Thus down here on the physical plane, while the whole is all the great Element, Earth, the solid earth would be taken as the corresponding subplane; while the watery matter belongs to the great plane of the astral, and liquids on the physical plane would be the corresponding subplane or subelement. So again with Fire, which here is repre­sented by the gaseous bodies in Nature; and above that, in the occult sense of the word, Air, by the lowest of the ethers is repre­sented; and above that, the next higher great plane, the Divine Flame, is represented down here by the second of the ethers. The subatomic and atomic subplanes are the representatives of the two highest, the unknown Elements.

In this way, finding in the physical universe subplanes corresponding to each great kosmic plane, and thus subplanes corresponding to each of the primary Elements in the Kosmos—in this way the occultist, in studying even the physical, would not look on it quite from the standpoint of the ordinary scientific man. For he would see what he would call the subelements here—the solid, the liquid, the gaseous, the etheric, etc.—as directly connected with the great Lord of the Element in the kosmos or solar system. And so, if he is studying the life-side, that which is behind the phenomenal appearance of the subelement, he would then study the workings of the intelligence of that Being as shown out in the countless hosts of lower intelligences, who reproduce his thoughts in miniature and manifest his powers in miniature. Thus the whole of his study would be conditioned by this greater thought, and he would see in the manifestations of the physical plane the lowest expressions of the thought of a higher plane, and that would have a very practical bearing upon his dealing with Nature in a fashion I will return to in a moment.

The occultist who is trying to develop himself would deal first, in far more detail than I have outlined, with this great theory of worlds or systems of worlds and would become quite familiar with it in detail. That would be his first step, and a necessary step; for until he has mastered it as a theory it would be hopeless to attempt to practice it as an occult science. He must learn this theory as laid down by those who have verified it and studied it at first hand, in order that when he starts on his first practical and first hand study he may bring to it a trained intelligence, a cultured mind, and a consciousness which knows at least in theory what it is going to study.

Our would-be occultist, then, having mastered this theory in its details, will next concern himself with the evolution of his own consciousness. He will endeavor, by hard and strenuous thinking, by prolonged and careful meditation, to train the mental instrument with which he is to work upon the higher planes. And now will come his first great difficulty: he cannot begin to be an occultist until his mind is thoroughly under his control. As you know, men are for the most part under the control of their minds, where they are not under the control of their senses; but even the more developed are under the control of their minds, and do not control them. Until the mind is under control, it is useless as an instrument of occult research; for if it is to run about here, there, and everywhere, as it pleases, dragging its owner with it, it is clear that it will tend downwards towards the lines along which it has come in its evolution, impelled by desires, moved by attractions and repulsions; whereas the occultist who desires to know cannot afford to have attractions and repulsions; he is to study everything in the clear dry light of reason, and is not to shrink from one study nor to be attracted to another. The whole universe is before him; the Divine Mind is manifested in every part of it, and all that the Divine Mind has thought is worthy of study; there is nothing in that Mind, rightly understood, that can possibly repel. So that he must master his mind completely, and that is the first step the would-be occultist must take.

I say the first step, because I take it for granted that no one is thinking of becoming an occultist until he has purified his life and laid a firm foundation of virtue, of noble thinking, and of noble living. It does not do to leave that out of regard, though I am taking it for granted as being well-known to you, for it is of vital importance to him in his later studies. No man whose life is not pure, whose thoughts are not noble, whose character is not unselfish, should venture to touch occultism at all; for every fault he has will assail him, every failing will dig pits for his feet; and until he has laid his foundation of virtue he must not try to build on it the Temple of Occultism. Nor must he try to build that Temple until his emotions and senses are thoroughly under his control.

Let me put to you very briefly why this complete control of the senses, of the emotions, of the thoughts, is necessary for the occultist. Presently we shall find that he is going to move on subtler planes and use subtler vehicles. Now these vehicles he is going to practice in, made up as they are of very fine and delicate matter, will move and vibrate under far less force than will move and vibrate the physical body. It is a very simple fact known to every one of you, that the same amount of force put to the moving of a light body will drive it farther than if applied to a heavy body; a push that would not move a railway wagon would send a ball skimming many yards away. Now apply that well-known law to the vehicles in which the occultist is to work. So long as he is in the physical body he thinks and feels, but before the thought expresses itself it has used up almost the whole of its power in making the brain work at all; before an emotion shows itself as an emotion the greater part of it is exhausted in moving the heavy physical matter by which that emotion is expressed-so that you get only a very small residuum of thought and emotion showing themselves in the physical world. But now let the emotion go on to the astral plane. What happens? The same amount of thought, of emotion, moving in the astral body, will throw it into the most violent and fearful passion. If the man is not careful at first, he will run the risk of tearing his own astral body, and of doing great damage to those who are around him on the astral plane by the tre­mendous vibrations he sends out. He might knock another senseless, or even shatter his astral body, by the thought which down here would only show itself by a strong emotion.

Hence the need to control the thoughts and emotions. That is one of the reasons why, until the control of thought and emotion is achieved, no one will help another to go to work upon the astral plane in the definite, wide-awake, fashion. Uncontrolled people are like so many crackers or rockets flying all over the place—a danger to others, useless to themselves. So it is necessary that our would-be occultist should get the mastery of his mind and emotions, in addition to that purity of nature of which I have spoken.

Then comes the time when he is to work for the development of what are called the subtler senses. I am supposing he has gone along the line of evolution by which his consciousness has been unfol­ded, so that his consciousness is ready to understand, ready to receive impressions, ready to answer. When the consciousness is ready, the vehicles must be brought up to a fine point of response and the subtler senses must be evolved. Now these must be evolved in very definite ways, still all along the line of meditation, of a somewhat different type from that which evolves the consciousness: a meditation that deals directly with the astral and the mental senses, sets them to work, makes them active, and brings them under his control. When he has made progress along these two lines of evolving the conscious­ness and the subtler senses, the occultist will be ready to work upon the next two higher planes.

Then, as he begins to work, he will find a difficulty facing him—the difficulty of distinguishing between what he contributes to those two planes and the things which exist there independently of himself. And here he will make many a blunder for a very considerable time. Every feeling he has there takes to itself astral matter and presents itself as a living being; every thought clothes itself in mental matter and presents itself as an independent existence; and the first blunder that he will make, when he is able to see and to understand, is that he will always be getting back his own thoughts, he will always be finding his own ideas confirming themselves apparently by external agency. Hence many of the mistakes made by those whom we call untrained seers. If any such has a strong desire in his mind, he is sure to find it on the astral plane presenting itself as a most magnificent picture, and he will be convinced that it is his duty to follow out that image he has seen; and if it be one that can be reproduced on the physical plane he will be able to reproduce it here.

So also with doctrines, beliefs, convictions, of all kinds--the nearest thing to him will be the crowd of his own thoughts, emotions, and wishes. They will crowd all round him when he wakens on the higher planes, and it will be some time before he learns to quietly put all that crowd aside and to study the plane itself and not only his own creations upon it. Here comes in the value of his moral and unselfish training: for the more his thoughts are pure, the more they are under control, the more easily he will be able to manage them on the higher plane and give them their proper place; and the more they are free from all the promptings of desire, the safer he will be against the danger of hearing the echo of his own voice as his Master's voice, and regarding the figments of his own brain as commands put upon him by his Master.

As he goes on he will learn to distinguish, and there is one kind of touchstone which is very useful in the earlier days. If the thing he brings back is only the reflection of his own thought, a wish he desires to carry out upon the physical plane, then you may be sure there will be a great deal of feeling mixed up with it, grievous impatience, hurry, excitement, and anger, if the carrying out is opposed; whereas, if it be really a teaching of his Master, then he will show down here on the physical plane a calm, a peacefulness, an utter absence of excitement and passion of any kind. Now inasmuch as it is his Master's will, he will know that. His will must work itself out if only he does not oppose it; and that what is wanted on his side, that the Master's will may be done on the physical plane, is simply devotion, calm, and patience, putting no obstacle in the way but waiting until the impulse comes from the higher plane, which has in it the certainty of self-realization.

And the man who is trying to be an occultist will test himself in this way. If he finds himself very excited he will refrain from action, knowing that excitement is alien from the spiritual impulse. But if he finds a steady conviction which is able to wait for its realization, with no hurry, no excitement, which knows that every necessary circumstance will be brought into being by the Master, he may be sure his inspiration is from above and that he is not being led away by the echoes of his own desires. Hence, again, the enormous importance of that purifying process I alluded to, before real advance is made in occult knowledge and power.

Now a great change takes place in the higher vehicles of the occultist, a change which is slow but steady and which must be completed before he is really available as an instrument on higher planes than this. You have read in some of our Theosophical books, mostly in some books or papers of Mr. Leadbeater's, that the astral and the mental, as well as the physical, matter of which our bodies are composed, is elemental essence with a tendency downwards, that is to say, the ordinary mental body is made up of elemental essence, that of the higher kingdom, coming downwards towards the astral plane. So on the astral, the essence of which our astral body is composed is striving to come downwards to the physical; hence a continual downward movement in the very matter of our bodies.

Now as the occultist evolves, a change takes place in the material of which his astral and mental bodies are composed. The change consists in the rearrangement of the matter, and that rearrangement of the matter gives vehicles respectively for different kinds of life. The former arrangement of the matter gives vehicles for the downward-coming wave of the life of the Logos; the new arrangement of the matter of the astral and the mental bodies gives vehicles for the upward-climbing life of the Monad, the spirit of the man himself; so that, as this change goes on, the downward wave of the life of the second Logos leaves his astral and mental bodies, and his own life, the life of his own spirit, takes the place of that downward-sweeping wave. The result is an entire change in the direction and tendencies of these bodies; before, they tended to go down; now, they tend to go up. Before, the life pushed them downward; now, it is drawing them upward; so that in the perfected body of the occultist his own spiritual life is the ruler of the molecular arrangement, and it is that life which forms its vehicles of the subtler matter and shapes the matter into the bodies that thereafter he uses on the higher planes. This vast and wondrous revolution makes his body useful to him in the future instead of a hindrance, taking away that downward pulling of which he has ever been conscious and giving him as it were wings in his body, wings that lift him instead of clogs that drag him down. Here again comes in the need of that moral growth in self-consciousness of which I spoke. The only safety in this process is in the moral character, in the inner power of the man himself.

When he has thus builded his bodies, when he has thus evolved his consciousness, when he has thus developed his psychic senses, then is he an occultist indeed. Then he will be able to study without fear of error, then he will be able to investigate without fear of failure: for at that point he will be at the threshold of liberation, he will be ready for the Initiation that makes a man a Master. All through his discipleship he has been going through these stages, working along these different lines, and improving himself year by year. In his earliest studies he will make many blunders, and there is no mistake greater on the part of those who have not yet developed any of these faculties, or opened up their consciousness, than to suppose that when a person unfolds some of the astral or even of the mental subtler senses, that he becomes an infallible prophet, an infallible seer. Quite the contrary: he is liable to endless blunders, continual mistakes, and his only safety lies in the honest statement of what he believes to be the truth, and in a readiness to correct and amend it when clearer vision shows him to be mistaken; for there are many possibilities of mistake that open before the growing occultist. I have told you of those that face him on the very threshold.

Putting these aside, his next difficulty will be that there exist on the plane nearest to the earth many who will deliberately try to deceive him, to lead him wrong, to delay his growth, and to impede his gathering of knowledge. He can only gradually eliminate those, feeling them, sensing them, rather than seeing them, recognizing that subtle touch of magnetism which puts him on his guard, the signal of danger. And even when seeing straight and clear, the limitations of his vision are a fruitful source of error, for a thing does not look the same when you see it out of proportion. Seeing a fragment of a picture, you will have very little idea of that portion of the picture hidden from you, and you will not even see correctly the color of the bit you are able to sense, for colors are very much modified by surrounding colors and are not really the same to your vision when you see them surrounded by many other colors that influence the whole, as when you see one fragment shown with perhaps a white surrounding surface. Nor only is this true of color, but it is also true of form, and shapes seen out of proportion look quite different from the same seen in proportion; and seeing a fragment of the higher planes is often misleading because out of proportion to the whole.

So this lack, this limitation, bringing about a disproportion, is also one of the dangers against which the growing occultist must guard himself. And then there is the subtle temptation of pride and power, of thinking himself different from others and not realizing that he can only be an occultist in the higher sense when the forms are as nothing to him and the one life represents all being. Therefore is separateness called the great heresy, for to the occultist there is no more dangerous noose in which his feet may be trapped. If he thinks of himself as separate, at once he drops downward; if he thinks of others as separate from him, at once he is enmeshed in the web of delusion. He must keep clear the vision, which depends on unity, nor allow the pride of superior knowledge to make him hold himself as distinct from the ignorant and the unevolved. Such are some of the difficulties that surround him; and yet none of these difficulties can daunt the soul who has set his heart on knowledge, on the greater service of the world. True, they are difficulties; but difficulties exist only to be overcome. True, they are dangers; but dangers make brave the heart, make strong the muscles of the spirit. So that one who is ready for the occult Pathway will not be affrighted by the dangers nor depressed by the difficulties; but, taking patience in both hands, and with the perseverance that marks the true student, he will address himself to his difficult task, secure in his faith in his Master, secure in his faith in the God that is himself, profound in his love for humanity, whom he is resolute to serve. And thus armed with patience, perseverance, faith and love, he will tread his difficult Path and become an occultist indeed.

Printed in the Spring 2012 issue of Quest magazine. Citation: Kerschner, Janet. "The TS Archives: Bringing History into the Present" Quest  100. 2 (Spring 2012): pg. 62-64.

By Janet Kerschner

     Every day is an adventure in the archives of the Theosophical Society in America. Recently, for example, I received a heavy bronze tree plaque found by a visitor near the Garden of Remembrance at our Olcott headquarters. The inscription particularly caught my eye because of its inscription: "Presented by Butte Lodge May 6, 1925" (right). That was the very first day that trees were planted on the bare fields of our newly purchased estate in Wheaton (left). Archival records quickly showed that a Crimean linden was donated by the Butte Lodge at a cost of $10.50. The tree did not survive long, and was replaced by a sycamore. 

Archives are records of enduring value created or collected by an individual or an organization. The value can be legal, financial, historical, artistic, or intrinsic, but to an archivist the worth of a record is based on its authenticity as evidence of the originator's activities and interests. Archives are far from being dusty old papers, but are imbued with all the vitality of current events and foreshadowings of the future. Our institutional memory is a tapestry of correspondence and reports, recordings and photographs, databases and e-mails. The TSA archives holds organizational papers that were once actively produced, received, and used by our staff. In the 1920s TSA president L. W. Rogers wrote an article in The Messenger asking for trees to be donated; a bookkeeper recorded $10.50 received from Butte, Montana; a secretary ordered a bronze plaque; a typist created a list of the tree locations; and a photographer snapped the image. And, fortunately for us today, someone retained those records "for the archives," never guessing that we would be looking at them with new interest in 2012. 

 The TSA archives department exists primarily to preserve organizational records, but serves another major function as a repository for materials donated by individuals and groups. These special collections include the papers of the great Blavatsky scholar Boris de Zirkoff; the photo albums of author Clara Codd (right); a large mixed-media collection from past TSA president Dora Kunz and her husband; the postcard collection of Carl E. Holbrook, including many cards sent by C. W. Leadbeater; two volumes of photographs belonging to author and clairvoyant Geoffrey Hodson; and many more. The family of painter Henry Schwartz gave us a magnificent portrait of Jiddu Krishnamurti made in 1926 (which now hangs outside the president's office at our Olcott headquarters), along with papers and photographs from the old Oak Park Lodge.  Donations have come in many forms—boxed records from a lodge that closed; a single photograph; postage stamps featuring Theosophists; a palm-leaf manuscript; a horseshoe found on the grounds. A proactive archivist tries to locate papers held in private hands and to capture reminiscences as oral histories. Memoirs, correspondence, photographs, Web pages, and artifacts from families and lodges can add rich detail to the Society's history. Many of our accessions come unexpectedly, sometimes without explanation. One gentleman from Kentucky thought it was important for us to have a photograph of a dead weasel covered with eight swastikas, but he gave no idea of its significance. Our most recent gift, on the other hand, is truly a treasure—a small sculpture of a Bodhisattva, owned by TS cofounder Henry Steel Olcott, that was sent to us by historian Joseph E. Ross.

Olcott's Bodhisattva  We are grateful to Joseph E. Ross for our most recent donation. He sent us an exquisite Bodhisattva that Colonel Henry S. Olcott received from an influential family during his travels through China in 1890 (figure 8). (A Bodhisattva, in Mahayana Buddhism, is an individual who has vowed to postpone individual salvation in order to work on behalf of the liberation of all sentient beings.) Srimati Rukmini Devi, an Indian Theosophist celebrated for her efforts at reviving Indian classical dance, gave this piece of art to Joseph on October 2, 1978, so that it would be delivered to America to strengthen the links of East and West. Joseph writes that "the artisan who created it was well versed in Hindu symbolism, yet he melded it into a typically Chinese visage and trunk. The five circular coins on the cover represent the fourfold lower worlds of personality plus the one of the spirit represented by the bird...The landscape inside the cover represents...the planet earth. The figure sits on a lotus in space as represented by the starry background." The Bodhisattva was brought to this country in 1978, the Chinese Year of the Horse, as the horse is a transporter or carrier of things. Rukmini Devi told Joseph that this object holds subtle influences that would "leaven the climate of brotherhood and unity among all the people of the earth planet. It is a universal symbol written in Hindi Chinese script. Its presence now in the west is to strengthen the realization of Oneness."

In archival practice, records groups are identified by provenance (the creator or collector of the materials) and maintained in their original order. At times the provenance is unknown and must be deduced from the contents of the records. For example, an original signed letter would usually belong to the papers of the recipient, whereas a carbon copy of the same letter would be found in the files of the writer. Both the original and the carbon may have valuable handwritten notations as well as attached materials reflecting the different viewpoints of the writer and recipient. Often boxes of old papers arrive in a jumble, and the archivist must draw order from the chaos by devising a system of organization that will be useful for researchers. Each collection of records is documented in finding aids designed to describe the materials and their organization (left).  

 Management of archives requires continual balancing of preservation with access. Papers, photographic images, audiovisual materials, artifacts, and digital objects all have different requirements for physical preservation and access. Colored pigments and inks can deteriorate rapidly at normal office temperatures, and cellulose-based papers become brittle and discolored. The archivist must apply preservation measures to prevent or delay this degradation. Temperature and relative humidity are monitored, and the environment is kept free of dust, contaminants, mold, and insects—a demanding task for us in a structure built in 1926. Some documents are simply too fragile to handle, and access can best be provided through digital or printed surrogates. Preservation of digital media requires particular combinations of hardware and software that rapidly become obsolete, so continued access to digital materials depends on frequent migration to the latest-greatest technology. Preservation of older records is simpler. Papers and photographs are transferred into labeled, acid-free folders and boxes, with fasteners like rubber bands and paper clips removed.

Ultimately, continued access is the goal. We do not acquire and maintain archival materials like misers hoarding treasure. Free access is our policy, with very few exceptions. Administrative records are not restricted except for certain personnel and legal matters, but privacy and confidentiality must be respected. Dora Kunz, for example, left us case studies of healing sessions using Therapeutic Touch, a healing modality of which she was the coinventor. Legally, the names of patients must be redacted (omitted or covered up) before we can permit researchers to view those papers. Copyright is another legal issue that must be considered when dealing with unpublished works and photographs. Restrictions are occasionally imposed on donated collections, although we try to establish the broadest rights that donors will allow as we draw up deed of gift agreements.

 Inquiries come daily in many forms. TSA staff and members often need photographs, copyright information, membership records, and general fact checking. Lodges, camps, and other groups have asked for assistance with preservation issues, advice about grant proposals, and anniversary celebrations. Last summer, old scripts from the archives enjoyed a revival as skits performed at Pumpkin Hollow Retreat Center in Craryville, New York.

A few questions come from the general public, and occasionally involve dramatic misconceptions. A foreign student telephoned asking about Henry Steel Olcott, of whom he knew little except that Olcott was a national hero in the young man's home of Sri Lanka. He said that in a competition in his secondary school he had been awarded the "Sir Henry S. Olcott Award" for public speaking. It came as a surprise to him that Olcott was an American colonel rather than a British knight! Another caller wanted to know if Olcott had fathered illegitimate children in South Asia, and I had to convince him that this was extremely unlikely given Olcott's impeccable ethics and Buddhist vows.

The requests of academic researchers range widely. Some questions have involved Reiki founder Mikao Usui; early Theosophical terminology; L. Frank Baum, author of The Wizard of Oz; the fourth dimension; architect Marion Mahoney Griffin; the Association of Hebrew Theosophists; composer Alexander Scriabin; the architecture of Theosophical communities; and educator Maria Montessori. Archival collections cannot always contribute the needed information, but our excellent library and its periodicals usually fill in the gaps. Grateful academics often reciprocate with information of their own. The Thomas Edison Archives recently sent scans of letters addressed to the inventor by a Theosophist, and a Reed College archivist traded photos and facts about lecturer Pieter K. Roest, who helped write the postwar constitution of Japan.

Books are one of the material benefits coming out of assisting researchers. Each author prints an acknowledgement, "Courtesy of the Theosophical Society in America Archives," adding to our name recognition and leading future researchers to our resources. Authors donate copies of their works, which become available in our national library.

Genealogical research can be very rewarding. Often a member simply wants to know when or whether a deceased relative was also a member, but archival materials can also bring healing across miles and decades. Stephan, an East German scholar, e-mailed asking whether his great-aunt Ilse Getz had been a member of the Society. As a matter of fact, in the mid-1930s, when Nazism was on the rise in Germany, Ilse and her husband Franklin (figure 6) immigrated to the United States. After being welcomed into the Society by members of the Oak Park (Illinois) Lodge, they moved to the headquarters campus in Wheaton, where he became a bookkeeper and she worked in the kitchen. The young couple lost contact with their families during World War II, and could not resume communication in the years of communism in East Germany. Stephan visited our campus to see where Ilse had found a home. Membership records, old issues of The American Theosophist, papers from the Oak Park Lodge, and photographs of our staff told her story. Stephan's grandmother had never known what happened to her dear sister, and the family was thrilled to see photographs of Ilse and Franklin from the 1940s, young and happy. Stephan wrote, "Your efforts reopened a lost past. Since yesterday there are and will be again people who look at the photos of this couple with deep emotional involvement and the intention to remember and explore their lives."

History at this individual level has proved compelling to some of our youngest volunteers in the archives. Several high school students helped me sort correspondence from 1946 concerning a massive project to ship parcels to needy European Theosophists. The teenagers were amazed to read accounts of harrowing wartime experiences along with appeals for thread, shoelaces, and soap (figure 7). They made earnest efforts to read letters written in French and German and urged me to scan the documents for a Web page. I was struck by the power of the past to engage young hearts.

     Our archival collections have materials that are found nowhere else. When Ananda College in Sri Lanka planned its 125th anniversary celebration, we were able to assist the college's Old Boys Association with scans of school periodicals and papers from 1914-17, when Fritz Kunz served as principal. No other archives could provide that little slice of history, and it is pure pleasure to be able to share items that have been neglected for decades.

     Working as the TSA archivist carries me in directions that I never anticipated. I have new acquaintances in Siberia, Portugal, South Africa, Israel, New Zealand, Sweden, and many other countries. Daily I am discovering the depth and breadth of Theosophical influence in the world, and I try to bring it to light in displays, writings, and presentations. Web displays will be featured in the near future, and work is progressing on an on-line encyclopedia.

     Theosophists who want to keep our history vibrant can help in many ways. Members of lodges, other local groups, and Theosophical families should consider how their own records are stored. Keep programs, clippings, membership rosters, and correspondence, in addition to legal papers. Remember to take lots of photographs, including action shots, and label them with names and dates. During our 2012 Summer National Gathering, scholar Michael Gomes will be conducting a workshop on how to write a lodge history, so you can follow his guidance in documenting your own group. Consider having a work-study visit here at the Olcott campus to assist in scanning documents, identifying people in old photographs, writing research articles, and developing displays. Interview your older members, and send World War II memoirs to the archives as a contribution to an upcoming book about wartime experiences.

Always remember that the TSA archives and the Henry S. Olcott Memorial Library have resources that can aid your studies, and that we appreciate your assistance in providing resources for future theosophists. Contact the Archives at archives@theosophical.org or 630-668-1571, extension 353.

Janet Kerschner joined the Theosophical Society in America staff in 2006 and serves as archivist. She has a graduate degree in library science and is a member of the Academy of Certified Archivists. Among many other projects, Janet is currently working on a book about Theosophists during World War II.