Quest Magazine

Printed in the Spring 2014 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Boyd, Tim. "Presidents Diary" Quest  102. 2 (Spring  2014): pg. 74-75

By Tim Boyd

Every year I return to my old hometown of New York to spend Thanksgiving with my family. A couple of years ago Lyn Trotman, one of our Eastern regional directors and president of the New York branch, suggested that since I would be in town anyway, I should stop by and speak at the lodge. This was a no-brainer for me. We had a full house and a wonderful social time with good food and good conversation following the talk. During our social time I was informed by members of the lodge's board of directors that I would be scheduled to speak each year on the Saturday following Thanksgiving. It is possible that I could have had some say in the matter, but I think they knew me too well.

As a result, a mini-tradition has been formed. This year again I traveled to New York, and we had the same high-quality time together. For me it is doubly special because my family has gotten into the act. Each year finds my mother, brother, sister, sister-in-law, wife, and daughter front and center. Fortunately, my family is small so that others can also find seats.

At the beginning of December, after we returned from New York and this year's late Thanksgiving, it was time for one of my wife Lily's favorite annual activities  trimming the Olcott Christmas tree. Since we moved out to the TS national headquarters three years ago, the day for trimming the tree has evolved into a joyous community event. Every year Mark Roemmich, head of grounds and maintenance, and his crew set up the twelve-foot-tall tree in our spacious lobby. He brings out the lights and decorations that he has carefully stored from the year before and gets them ready for Lily and her decorating crew. A table is laid out in the lobby filled with Christmas cookies and snacks, largely prepared by various staff members. In the past there have been treats prepared by some of our notable chefs, myself included. Each year my iPod is called into service for its extensive Christmas playlist, and music fills the air. Throughout the morning volunteers and staff put on Santa hats and gather to talk, eat, and hang a few decorations on the tree. Each year Lily has arranged with the Prairie School for the kids to come by and join in. They sing a couple of Christmas songs they have prepared for the occasion—some of them originals. Really, the singing and the time with the kids is the highlight.

On December 20, we had our Christmas party. About eighty of our staff, volunteers, schoolkids, and teachers all gathered in Nicholson Hall, our dining area, for food, song, stories, games, and good company. In the busyness of each day there is often little time for simple, casual connections. Particularly with our volunteers, we have members who have been coming in to help one, two days or more each week for years. Unless they are working at the reception desk, many of our staff and visitors hardly see them, but they perform important work that in countless subtle ways make the TSA more effective in fulfilling its mission. The Christmas party is one way we have of reconnecting with them.

The food—especially the desserts—were top-quality. So many people made different Christmas sweets that we had to use our whole ping-pong table for desserts only. We were also treated to a musical performance by the Prairie School Players. One of the many talents of longtime staff member Diana Cabigting (Ruben's wife) is that she is a highly trained musician. For the past two years she has been the instrumental music instructor for the kids at the Prairie School. She has put together an excellent string ensemble with viola, violin, and cello players who perform at every opportunity. The Players performed a few Christmas songs, then added the Prairie School Chorus for some sing-alongs. 

Late in the party Santa Claus made an appearance. It seems that every Christmas, on almost every street corner, there is someone wearing a Santa outfit asking for donations or trying to spread some holiday cheer. Some of them are more convincing than others, but on the whole there is more holiday spirit than authenticity. Our Santa is an exception. Few people know that here in the U.S. there is an actual school where the best of the best Santas receive their training. Three years back Mark Roemmich's wife, Kim, knowing her husband inside and out, gave him a gift of the course of training at the Santa school. Mark used his vacation time and took the training from beginning to end. The result was a Santa with such a feeling of realness that kids and parents seek him out all around our area. 

The next day Lily and I were off driving, first to pick up our daughter from college in Ohio, then on to New York for a pre-Christmas moment with family. It was a pre-Christmas moment because on December 23 Lily and I were on the plane headed for India and the TS international convention at Adyar. I may have mentioned in previous diaries that for 125 years the meeting of the General Council of the TS has taken place on Christmas day. Don't ask me why. Some traditions can have a way of surviving long past their usefulness, or even past the time that anyone remembers why it started in the first place. As far as I can tell, this Christmas meeting falls into that category. The General Council is composed of the general secretaries (presidents) of all the national sections. It also has some members who are appointed, as well as the international secretary, treasurer, and vice-president. It is the equivalent of our board of directors. Each year's meeting is brief "four to eight hours" and involves information, discussion, and some actual business. 

The convention was attended by 1100 members this year. Of those, close to 1000 were from India. The program had been fully planned by recently deceased president Radha Burnier. Before she died on October 31, every speaker and time had been scheduled except one. That time was used for a remembrance of her. During the convention I was scheduled to speak on three occasions—one public talk, once in remembrance of Radha, and once as chair of the Theosophical Order of Service meeting. 

Perhaps the main topic circulating around the convention was who would be the next international president. It was a matter of special concern among the General Council members who had the responsibility of making nominations. Initially four candidates emerged C.V.K. Maithreya and Mahendra Singhal, both from India, Ricardo Lindeman from Brazil, and Kim Dieu from France. Since Radha visited the U.S. in 2012, my name has also consistently been mentioned as a possibility. For whatever reason, during and after her visit she made it known that she felt I should consider the position. As flattering as her suggestion was, assuming the international president's role involves a major life change. I did agree to think about it, but felt that it wasn't pressing. I thought there was time. Wrong.

On December 23, when I boarded the plane in New York headed for Adyar, I was still undecided. It was only on December 30, two days before returning to the U.S., that I formally agreed to accept nominations. In the end only two candidates received more than the mandatory twelve nominations—me with fifteen, and Maithreya with fourteen. It creates an odd situation, because the elections for the TSA board and officers will be taking place almost simultaneously, with me as the sole candidate for president. Welcome to the world of the ancient Chinese curse, “May you be born in interesting times.”

Tim Boyd

Printed in the Spring 2014 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Cornell, Joseph. "Meeting Nature Face-to-Face" Quest  102. 2 (Spring  2014): pg. 67-70

By Joseph Cornell

Profound moments in nature foster a true and vital understanding of our place in the world. I remember an experience I had as a five-year-old boy that awakened in me a lifelong fascination for marshes and birds, and for a life lived wild and free.

I was out playing alone on a cold foggy morning when I suddenly heard a startling chorus of "whouks" coming toward me through the air. I peered intently at the thick fog, hoping for at least a glimpse of the geese. Seconds passed; the tempo of their cries increased. They were going to fly directly overhead! I could hear their wings slapping just yards above me. All of a sudden, bursting through a gap in the fog, came a large flock of pearl-white snow geese. It seemed as if the sky had given birth to them. For five or six wonderful seconds their sleek and graceful forms were visible, then they merged once again into the fog. Seeing the snow geese thrilled me deeply, and ever since then I have wanted to immerse myself in nature.

Being Fully Present

When outdoors, many people are so engrossed in their own private concerns that they notice little of their surroundings. I once demonstrated this to a group of twenty-five teachers in Canberra, Australia. I asked them to look at a beautiful tree as long as they were able to, and to raise their hands when their attention wandered from the tree and drifted to other thoughts. In only six seconds, every hand was raised. They were amazed to discover how restless their minds were.

Exposure to nature isn't always enough. A friend of mine discovered this when he took his eight-year-old son hiking in the Canadian Rockies. They hiked for several hours until they came to a spectacular overlook where they could see two glaciated valleys and several alpine lakes.

He said, "That view alone made our long trip from Iowa worthwhile." He suggested to his son that they sit and enjoy the mountain scenery. But the boy, who'd been running exuberantly back and forth along the trail, sat for five seconds, then scrambled to his feet and started running up the trail again. My friend said that he felt like screaming: "Stop! Look at this incredible view!"

How can we help others experience nature deeply when their minds and bodies are so restless? The secret I've discovered is to focus their attention with nature activities that engage their senses.

For example, in the Camera Game, which is played with two people (see below), the "photographer" taps the shoulder of the "camera" twice, and the camera opens his eyes on the scene before him. Because the camera looks for three seconds, his mind doesn't have time to daydream, so the impact of his "picture" is quite powerful. Players of the Camera Game have told me that they've retained a vivid memory of their pictures for five, even eight years afterwards. This activity helps people of all ages experience what it is like to truly see.

Other examples of simple, absorbing activities are mapping natural sounds, writing an acrostic poem about something captivating, drawing one's best nature view, and an exercise called "Interviewing Nature," in which you look for a special rock, plant, or animal that has an interesting story to tell. Then you ask it questions like, "What events have you seen in your life?" "What is it like to live here?" "Is there something you would like to tell me?"

The psychologist Abraham Maslow described peak experiences as especially joyous, with "feelings of intense happiness and well-being," and often involving "an awareness of transcendental unity." Mountaineers commonly report having these experiences. The great naturalist John Muir, in the following passage, explains why:

In climbing where the danger is great, all attention has to be given the ground step by step, leaving nothing for beauty by the way. But this care, so keenly and narrowly concentrated, is not without advantages. One is thoroughly aroused. Compared with the alertness of the senses . . . one may be said to sleep all the rest of the year.

The intense focus required by wilderness pursuits such as climbing heightens our awareness. This is why so many people avidly enjoy them.

Leaders can encourage peak experiences on less wild walks by using experiential activities that direct people's complete attention on nature. Concentration is concentration; people benefit from increased perception wherever they are. One educator, who hikes the Appalachian or Pacific Crest Trail every summer, practiced an exercise called "I Am the Mountain" for just four minutes. In this exercise, participants look for something in nature that attracts their eyes, then feel its living essence in their own hearts. Afterwards, he said enthusiastically, "I was able to experience a state of heightened awareness that usually takes me a month in the wilderness to feel."

Finding the Forest Within

Science can only describe a flowering cherry tree; it cannot help us experience the cherry tree in its totality. To develop love and concern for the earth, we need deep, absorbing nature experiences; otherwise, our relationship with nature will remain distant and abstract and will never touch us deeply.

Rita Mendonca is Brazil's national coordinator for Sharing Nature, an organization dedicated to increasing awareness of nature in children and adults. She recently gave a training program in the Amazon for professional ecotourism guides, some of whom had worked in the area for forty years. Their attitude at first was that she had little to teach them. But after participating in several experiential Sharing Nature activities, a woman approached Rita and said with deep emotion, "You are helping me find the forest inside of me! We don't know the forest in this way!"

Absorbing experiences bring us face-to-face with nature. The observer and the observed become united—and only then are true empathy, knowing, and love awakened in the observer's heart.

John Muir said that the content of the human soul contains the whole world. The deeper purpose of experiential learning is to broaden our experience of life and include other realities as our own. When one is immersed in nature, Muir said, the "body vanishes and the freed soul goes abroad." Only by expanding our sense of identity beyond our physical body and egoic self can we commune with distant horizons, brightly colored songbirds, and countless other delights.

When people are quiet and receptive, fully immersed in nature, insights on the real purpose of life reveal themselves. David Blanchette is a teacher at the Punahou School on Oahu Island, Hawaii, where every year he leads his thirteen-year-old students on an inspirational nature walk along a remote and wild coastline. Below are some of his students' thoughts about life and nature after playing reflective, experiential Sharing Nature activities:

• It made me feel like I was actually a part of the sand and ocean.
• I was a calm ocean wave gently rolling towards the shore. I was the reef, feeling the cool water roll over me.
• I felt euphoria. I felt like I was one with everything around me.
• It felt powerful, yet peaceful. Every part of me is moving and flowing in harmony.
• Watching the turtle swim carefree reminded me that I have nothing to worry about.
• If you find beauty within the world you can find it within yourself.

Jessica, one of David's students, wanted to express her appreciation for the ocean, so she gratefully wrote "thank you" in the sand—and let the ocean waves embrace her sentiment and take it into itself.

Fostering in others beautiful human qualities of humility, respect, love, and joyful harmony with one's environment inside and outside of oneself—as expressed by the Hawaiian students—is what nature education is really about.

Becoming Good Stewards

A teacher in the Southwest once asked the children in his class to draw pictures of themselves. He recalled, "The American children completely covered the paper with a drawing of their body, but my Navajo students drew themselves differently. They made their bodies much smaller and included the nearby mountains, canyon walls, and dry desert washes. To the Navajo, the environment is as much a part of who they are as are their own arms and legs." The understanding that we are a part of something larger than ourselves is nature's greatest gift. With it, our sense of identity expands and, by extension, so does our compassion for all things.

In order to create a society that truly reveres the natural world, we must offer its citizens life-changing experiences in nature. Teresa of Avila said, "The soul in its ecstatic state grasps in an instant more truth than can be arrived at by months, or even years, of painstaking thought and study." One moment of deeply entering into nature can inspire in us new attitudes and priorities in life that would take years to develop.

When people feel immersed and absorbed in the natural world, they are learning the highest that nature has to offer—because nature herself is their teacher.

Joseph Cornell (Nayaswami Bharat) is the author of Sharing Nature, The Sky and Earth Touched Me, and Listening to Nature. He is the founder and president of Sharing Nature Worldwide: www.sharingnature.com. A swami and disciple of Paramhansa Yogananda, he has been a student of Swami Kriyananda since 1975 and is a longtime resident and minister of Ananda Village in Nevada City, California.

See how willingly Nature poses herself upon photographers' plates. No earthly chemicals are so sensitive as those of the human soul. —John Muir

The Camera Game is played with two people: one person is the photographer and the other the camera. The photographer guides the camera—eyes closed—on a search for beautiful and interesting pictures. When the photographer sees something he likes, he points the camera at it, framing the object he wants to shoot.

The photographer signals the camera to open his eyes (the lens) by tapping twice on the camera's shoulder. A third tap three seconds later tells the camera to close his eyes again. For the first picture, it may help to say "Open" with the first two taps, and "Close" with the third.

It's important that the camera keep his eyes closed between pictures, so that the three-second "exposure" has the impact of surprise. Encourage photographer and camera to remain silent (speaking only if absolutely necessary) to enhance the camera's experience.

Participants have often told me that they've remembered the images of their "photographs" for more than five years. In addition to the visual power of the exercise, the camera, during his periods of sightlessness, will also experience a magnification of his four other senses.

After taking four to six photographs, the camera and the photographer trade places.

Because the experience is so compelling, a beautiful rapport is established between the photographer and the human camera. It's heartwarming to observe grandparents and grandchildren—and other pairings—carefully guide each other and delight in the wondrous scenes of nature around them.

You can experience how the Camera Game intensifies awareness on your own. Select an outdoor site with varied terrain that's mostly clear of obstructions. Since you'll be walking alone, take along a hiking staff or pole for security and guidance.

Choose a safe route leading to interesting features such as large rocks, trees, and, perhaps, an arresting view. Close your eyes and begin walking, feeling the warmth of the sun and the wind blowing against your body. Notice your leg muscles compensating for the unevenness of the terrain, and the insects singing and buzzing nearby.

When you sense that you're near something intriguing, open your eyes to take its picture. (Looking for the suggested three seconds keeps the attention sharply focused on the subject the whole time. The mind tends to wander when the exposures are longer.)

Continue to tread carefully while taking a few more photographs. As you walk, you can (as needed to stay on course) open your eyes just enough to detect blurry shapes.

After you and your partner have played both roles, each of you can sketch from memory one of the pictures he took while playing the role of camera. Then have each camera give his developed picture to the photographer he partnered with.

More Camera Game Tips

1. Sensitively guide the camera by holding his hand and gently pulling his arm in the direction you want to go. Go slowly and remain watchful for obstacles on the ground, such as low-lying tree branches.

2. Make the photographs stunning by taking shots from unusual angles and perspectives. For example, you can both lie down under a tree and take your picture looking upward, or you can put your camera very close to a tree's bark or leaves.

3. You can prepare the camera for the next picture by telling him which lens to use. For a picture of a flower, tell the camera to choose a close-up lens; for a sweeping scenic panorama, a wide-angle lens; and for a faraway object, a telephoto lens. Such specific instructions help the camera focus on the intended subject when it may not otherwise be obvious.

4. Photographers can also pan the camera—that is, move it slowly with the shutter held open, like a movie camera. While panning, you can keep the shutter open longer, since the movement will hold the camera's interest. You can also pan vertically—for example, start at the base of a tree and slowly move up the trunk to the highest branches.

—Joseph Cornell

Printed in the Spring 2014 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Alcott, A. Bronson. "An Encounter with Awe: A Dialogue with School Children" Quest  102. 2 (Spring  2014): pg. 64-66

By A. Bronson Alcott

A. Bronson Alcott (1799—1888) is chiefly remembered today as the father of Louisa May Alcott, author of the classic Little Women, which portrays the life of their family at the time of the Civil War.

Alcott himself, however, was a noted figure in the New England Transcendentalist movement and was friends with such luminaries as Ralph Waldo Emerson. Alcott was also an innovative educator. His most famous educational experiment was the Temple School, which he started in Boston in 1834. His assistants included Margaret Fuller, later known as a champion of women's rights.

Alcott's method of teaching included dialogues with children on spiritual subjects. These dialogues were recorded by his assistant Margaret Peabody and published in two volumes in 1836—37 under the title Conversations with Children on the Gospels. The book drew intense criticism because of its freethinking approach to Scripture, which some Bostonians regarded as blasphemous. The resulting outcry led many parents to withdraw their children from the school, and Alcott was forced to close it in 1837. He was forced to close another school later on for admitting a black child and refusing to expel him despite heavy pressure.

Always improvident, Alcott never attained financial security until his daughter became a best-selling author, but his teaching methods were innovative and inspiring. Below is the record of one conversation. —Ed.

Mr. Alcott: Jesus was at Cana the last time we read of him and received a visit from a nobleman of Capernaum. Today we find him at Nazareth. (Reading:)

And he came to Nazareth, where he had been brought up: and, as his custom was, he went into the synagogue on the sabbath day, and stood up for to read. And there was delivered unto him the book of the prophet Esaias. And when he had opened the book, he found the place where it was written, the Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he hath anointed me to preach the Gospel to the poor. He hath sent me to heal the brokenhearted, to preach deliverance to the captives, and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty them that are bruised, to preach the acceptable year of the Lord. And he closed the book, and he gave it again to the minister, and sat down. And the eyes of all them that were in the synagogue were fastened on him. And he began to say unto them, This day is this scripture fulfilled in your ears.

And all bare him witness, and wondered at the gracious words which proceeded out of his mouth. And they said, Is not this Joseph's son? And he said unto them, Ye will surely say unto me this proverb, Physician, heal thyself: whatsoever we have heard done in Capernaum, do also here in thy country. And he said, Verily I say unto you, No prophet is accepted in his own country. But I tell you of a truth, many widows were in Israel in the days of Elias, when the heaven was shut up three years and six months, when great famine was throughout all the land; but unto none of them was Elias sent, save unto Sarepta, a city of Sidon, unto a woman that was a widow. And many lepers were in Israel in the time of Eliseus the prophet; and none of them was cleansed, saving Naaman the Syrian. And all they in the synagogue, when they heard these things, were filled with wrath, and rose up, and thrust him out of the city, and led him unto the brow of the hill whereon their city was built, that they might cast him down headlong. But he passing through the midst of them went his way. (Luke 4:16-30)

Emma: I think there was something miraculous in the escape of Jesus.

Ellen: He would not have escaped if he had deserved to be cast down.

Mr. Alcott: What preserved him?

Ellen: The spirit that was in him; they were awed by his looks.

John B.: God was in him.

Augustine: He did not escape because he deserved to. He deserved not to be crucified.

Ellen: He escaped then, because it could not have done good to others to have him killed then, as it did when he was crucified.

Mr. Alcott: What was that in him which produced the awe of which Ellen spoke?

Several (at once): Conscience. Truth. Indignation.

Charles: The supernatural.

Franklin: I think it was because they saw him go along without the least fear. This surprised them so, that they were motionless, until he was gone, and I think they were all left standing in amazement.

Andrew: As he did not seem afraid of them, they thought it would be of no use to throw him down the hill. They feared he would do something to them.

Samuel R.: His not being afraid made them afraid.

Charles: It seemed to me that they carried him to the very verge before he looked at them. Then, I thought, he turned and looked, and they were so struck that they stood motionless, with their hands up all ready to strike.

George K. I think their hands fell when Jesus turned upon them.

Mr. Alcott: Did you ever have any person look at you as if they saw everything in you? (Several held up hands.) What if you should try this method of "looking"when you are struck or injured by boys in the street?

Charles: Suppose a look does not do?

Mr. Alcott: It will be time then to try some other means. Try this first. Can you tell when you have seen a similar effect produced?

Charles: Yes, I have seen it among boys. When some boys were once abusing a little boy, they stopped short as I saw them; there seemed no reason but his looking at them. And once I was going to drown a puppy, and he looked up at me so that I could not.

Emma: Once you looked at me when I was whispering, and I could not look at you.

John B: I have felt that when I was playing in school, very often.

Samuel R.: I once wanted a dog to do something; he did not want to; and I was going to beat him, and he looked at me so that I could not.

Mr. Alcott: There is a creature—very feeble—who lives in your house, but in whose feebleness there is a power —

Several. Little babies.

Mr. Alcott: Have any of you ever been awed by a child's face?

Herbert: I have.

Lucy: So have I. I have tried to take a baby, and it did not want to be taken, and I did not want to, then.

Mr. Alcott: Did any of you ever take a little baby, and swing and toss it round, without observing how it looked, or feeling any awe? How many take away things from children, without caring how they feel or look?

Samuel R.: Yes; sometimes I have wanted to take away something from my little sister, and could not, because she looked so innocent.

Mr. Alcott: How many think there is something supernatural in a babe? (Several held up hands.) How many of you think there was a good deal of this look in Jesus, that helped him escape? (Many held up hands.) Was that a miracle?

Emma: Yes.

Ellen: I do not think it was a miracle. It was natural that he should look so, and that they should feel it.

Mr. Alcott: Is a miracle unnatural?

Ellen: It has not a natural cause.

Mr. Alcott: Could there be anything natural without the supernatural? "Supernatural"means "above nature,"and does not the power above nature show itself in nature, and cause those acts which you call miraculous?

(No answer.)

John B.: I liked the passage that Jesus read. "Preaching the gospel to the poor"means that he would teach them how to get their living. "Healing the brokenhearted"means to comfort them when their brothers and sisters die. I don't understand about "preaching deliverance.""Recovering sight to the blind"means curing spiritual blindness, and curing outward eyes too, so that the outward eyes may see the emblems of spiritual things. I don't understand the rest.

George K.: I think "the Spirit of the Lord"is God. "The poor"means poor in money, and the preaching is to make them good and go to meeting. To "preach deliverance to captives"is to preach in prisons, that if they would repent God would not punish them. To "recover sight to the blind"is to clear out the Spirit's eye as well as the body's. To "bind up the bruised"is to heal them.

Martha: I think to "preach to the poor"is to preach to the poor in spirit, to those who have not goodness in their spirit; and to "heal the brokenhearted"is to comfort the sorrowing for friends.

Mr. Alcott: What else causes sorrow but loss of friends?

Franklin: The wickedness of our friends.

Charles: Those would be comforted by explaining the uses of the punishments.

Mr. Alcott: Would you like the world better if there was no punishment and no suffering?

Several: Once I thought so.

Mr. Alcott: Do you see any good in suffering or in punishment now? Who makes you suffer?

Charles: Ourselves.

Lucy: The "Spirit's anointing him"means that God had made him good, to make those who were poor in goodness, rich.

Mr. Alcott: Then there is another kind of poverty than of riches. Which is the worst kind of poverty?

Lucy: Poverty of kindness.

Mr. Alcott: Do you suppose there are any very poor people, who are rich in spirit?

Lucy: Yes; the brokenhearted means being sorry for wrongdoing, and he gives them repentance to bind them up. The captives means those who are bound by their wickedness.

Mr. Alcott: Give me an instance of such a captive.

Lucy: A little girl who has done wrong and is not sorry is "captivated"by her sin, and being blind means that they cannot see goodness.

Mr. Alcott: Did they lose their sight all at once?

Lucy: No, not all at once; but they do wickedly, and then forget the difference between right and wrong.

Mr. Alcott: Do we begin by knowing right and wrong?

Lucy: Yes.

Mr. Alcott: Have you lost any of your spiritual sight?

Lucy: I suppose I have since I was a baby.

Welles and Nathan: I did not know anything when I was a baby. There is no right or wrong in a baby.

Lucy: "The bruised"means those who are a little wicked, but want to be good, and Jesus will show them how.

Mr. Alcott: Was the Spirit of the Lord ever upon you?

John B.: When I have been doing right it has helped me, and when I have been helping others.

Mr. Alcott: Do you ever deliver the captive—those captured by bad habits—even yourselves? (None.) Are any of you blind? (Several.) Do you begin to recover sight? (All held up hands.) How many spend all the year acceptably to the Lord? (None.)

Ellen: I want to know what Josiah thinks.

Josiah: I have no thoughts.

Mr. Alcott: Suppose a person is greater, better than people around him; how will they treat him?

Augustine: He must make them understand him.

Mr. Alcott: Suppose they are interested in other things?

Augustine: He must talk to them and convince them, not all at once, nor everyone. Those people thought a carpenter was not so high as others. But there is no reason why a carpenter's son should not be as great as any other man.

Lemuel: Because they are poor! Some people think their riches include goodness.

Mr. Alcott: How many of you think that if you were to go into another town or school and begin to talk as you do here on spiritual subjects, you should be understood; or would it be disagreeable?

Lemuel: The schoolmaster would not let you stay.

George K.: He would be glad, if he was a spiritual man, for then he would teach so himself. But I guess he would not be a spiritual man if he did not have spiritual scholars.

Mr. Alcott: Most schoolmasters mean to be spiritual.

Lemuel: I know one who is not spiritual.

From A. Bronson Alcott, How Like an Angel Came I Down: Conversations with Children on the Gospels, recorded by Elizabeth Peabody and edited by Alice O. Howell. Originally published 1836—37; reprinted 1991 by Lindisfarne Books. Reprinted with permission of Lindisfarne Books.

Printed in the Spring 2014 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Torres, Gasper. "Theosophy and the Child" Quest  102. 2 (Spring  2014): pg. 60-63

By Gaspar Torres

In Theosophy we find a different concept of the soul than is found in other religious, philosophical, and scientific lines. For a student of Theosophy, the soul of a child is not like a blank page created by God, but a soul with a wealth of experiences that comes to a new stage to continue its development from a previous point that has been reached. The soul is already accompanied by a series of conditions. When we study these in view of the teachings on reincarnation, they enable us to help that soul advance more quickly toward the goal of human evolution. The soul can be helped to use its new body in the right way to accelerate its unfoldment.

On the other hand, when these factors are unknown, it is possible to hinder the progress of that soul and to lose a great number of opportunities for making better use of the new incarnation. It is undeniable that the present average level of human evolution is still poor: we are as a whole more animal than truly human. We need to weaken the lower impulses and reinforce the spiritual ones. But if this is not done with an understanding of the law of evolution and the characteristics that accompany a child at birth, it becomes very difficult to be truly useful to that soul. The nineteenth-century poet and hero José Martí­, probably the first Cuban to write about Theosophy, expressed some illuminating ideas on how to correctly raise a soul in a child's body:

There is no more difficult task than the one of distinguishing, in our existence, the clinging, acquired life from the spontaneous and natural one—to separate what comes with man from what has been added by the lessons, legacies, and ordinances of those who have come before him. As soon as he is born, they are already standing next to his cradle with large and strong bandages in hand: the philosophies, religions, parents' passions, political systems. And they tie him up and restrict him, and already the man is, for his whole life on this earth, a bridled horse . . . To strengthen the human will; to leave to the spirits their own seductive form; not to tarnish virgin natures with the imposition of artificial prejudices; to enable them to take for themselves what is useful, without confusing them or impelling them along a predetermined path—that is the only way of populating the earth with the vigorous and creative generation that it lacks!

Only what is genuine is fruitful. Only what is direct is powerful. What another bequeaths to us is like a reheated delicacy. It is the duty of each man to reconstruct life: as soon as he looks within himself, he reconstructs it. (Martí­, 7:230)

As he strikingly points out, we have to acknowledge that the new personal soul that is beginning to use the new body needs to be stimulated to identify within itself, and to manifest, the divine spiritual essence from which it emanated, without erroneously identifying with the body and the inferior life that animates it.

If we know from Theosophy that the child is a monad trying to manifest itself by means of the immortal soul through the personal soul, we can encourage that manifestation. We can avail ourselves of the positive characteristics that the personal soul brings from its spiritual soul or ego. But the soul also brings skan­dhas, or accumulated karma, from previous lives. These are not in harmony with the higher ego, but are a result of past entanglements with materiality. They will tend to drag the soul down to lower expressions that are in harmony with the elemental life of its lower bodies—physical, emotional, and mental. We need to prevent these inferior impulses from appearing.

C.W. Leadbeater explained that the baptismal ceremony in the Christian church had a deeper purpose: to help the soul of a newborn—through the holy water and holy oils used in the ceremony—to express in its physical body all the best that the soul may have brought from prior lives. It is also intended to minimize the lower tendencies held over from those previous stages that will incline the individual toward a life dominated by materiality.

A child who is more than one year old is less likely to be influenced by ceremonies of this kind; as a result, this is undoubtedly an indirect form of help. After this early stage, the child could be helped in various other ways to advance his evolution and keep his attention away from what may drag him down. Eventually he will be old enough to manage what is happening within him and to be more aware of his true goals as a soul rather than being a mere toy of the forces and blind energies of his bodies. A small child has little discernment of these things, as his emotional and mental vehicles are not totally harmonized with the physical one. If the negativity carried over from previous incarnations can remain latent until adolescence and youth, the individual can decide the course of his life more consciously, comparatively free from the negative impulses of the past. If we are always alert to stimulating the highest in the individual, we will also stimulate a yearning for self-knowledge which, once born, will remain for the rest of the incarnation.

We all know that a small child, luckily, does not remember his past. Thus he participates in the original innocence of the pure soul and is not too strongly inclined to repeat that past, the good or the bad. (Even the good needs to be realized by the soul in a new form rather than as a mere repetition or imitation of what it has already done.) Although the soul may bring the impulse for that new expression from its spiritual side, it enters in a body with lower tendencies, due not only to the legacy it receives from the parents, but also to negative inclinations from previous lives that tend to awaken in the presence of the elemental life of the bodies. Thus there are always two forces present: selfishness and a focus on the separate, lower life, and the higher soul, which tends to search for the lost unity. As a result, the elemental life will thrust us downward, to the mineral stage, while the soul will thrust us upward, to accomplish our evolution, which has already passed the mineral, vegetable, and animal stages, and which through human life has the capacity to return to the primordial Unity.

In the first stages of the human cycle we have to descend to manifestation in the densest forms of existence. There we enter into a relationship with the tendencies of the elemental kingdoms that we have to root out completely in the second half of the cycle. An adult who does not understand this may see tendencies in a child that, from an orthodox religious perspective, may look like the result of "original sin"—a concept that is one of the most lamentable sources of misunderstanding, ignorance, and superstition. In reality these tendencies are nothing more than an interplay of forces that place themselves in opposition to each other between the ascending arc of the human soul and the descending currents of the elemental life—a complementary expression of life in the universe.

We should not, then, impose iron disciplines on children in order to prevent "diabolical" forces from dominating them. We should also be flexible enough to inspire them to do the right thing from their souls, understanding the struggle that we all are waging in order to learn the most important lessons of evolution. It would be helpful for this endeavor to study C. Jinarajadasa's Flowers and Gardens. Here, using the allegory of a dream, the author puts us in contact with certain ideals to realize in ourselves and to utilize in the education and guidance of children. He draws the analogy of a beautiful garden in which flowers are the symbolic expression of the flowering of the spiritual soul in all human beings, especially children, who can attain it more easily.

In the West we have Johann Heinrich Pestalozzi in the nineteenth century and Maria Montessori (assisted by Annie Besant) in the twentieth as figures who helped to eradicate the ancient educational notion that "with blood the letter enters" and move into a new type of education based on the awakening of the interest and love of knowledge in the child. Nevertheless, a great deal remains to be done to provide an education that is truly useful and conducive to the best development of the spiritual soul. Only Theosophy in its widest scope can provide the appropriate framework for these improvements. Theosophical teaching exists for the sake of practical learning: it is eminently practical. If we erroneously regard it as mere theory, it is due to our lack of vision, as all Theosophical knowledge is in itself a practical invitation of immense and immediate value if we open our eyes to its usefulness.

The two cycles of seven years that span from childhood to youth—that is, from seven to fourteen and fourteen to twenty-one—provide the most important stages in which we can give our children and youth a firm foundation for a fruitful spiritual life. This cannot be done with theories or with mere words, but requires inspiring ethical examples so that the child can compare his own impulses with the behavior of his elders and his environment. Whatever is imposed on the child will never be completely assimilated by the soul. It will only result in fear of punishment or reprimand, and the repressed desire to continue the unsatisfactory behavior will reappear as soon as the fear dissipates.

Some children are docile, others are rebellious. Hence it will require great attention to decide how best to guide them according to their individual characteristics. We can generally classify children into three large groups, corresponding to the three great margas or paths: those who are active; those who are emotional; and those who are curious or who like to investigate. We need to adapt our incentives and responses to their temperaments, which we will discover through their preferences and behavior. For those in the first group, we will promote physical activity; for those in the second group, we will encourage expressions of love, both in art and in devotional activities; and for those in the third group, we will foster their inclinations toward study, which can make them ponder, reflect, and keep their minds as unprejudiced as possible so that they can be prepared for ascending to the levels of wisdom. In each of these three approaches, the stimulus employed should have a keynote of generosity and nobility so that the child will not deviate toward selfishness. At the same time, stimulating what is most prominent in the child's character does not mean that we ignore or neglect other aspects of his being, because, as the soul ascends, everything is integrated into the higher unity of Life that encompasses all its manifestations.

We need to be constantly attentive to the possible deviations from any of these paths. We also want to bring adequate stimulation and focus to whatever the child may be doing, feeling, or thinking. But we must be careful not to pressure children, even unconsciously, to behave as we think is best for them on the basis of our own desires. The tendency, especially on the parents' part, to want their children to be as they wish, and not as the children decide, remains very common even though parents have been frequently counseled to respect children's spontaneous inclination to express what they naturally feel. No soul has to do what another one tells it to do; it needs to mature in order to decide its life for itself, at the appropriate age; its elders should never impose their preferences, or their frustrations, on it.

We need to be especially careful always to accompany our words with our example. This is especially important in regard to ethics. If we want children to be truthful, it is crucial to refrain from lying to them under any circumstances. There is nothing more destructive for a developing personality than the contradiction between what its elders say and what it sees them do. When one family member tries to emphasize some ethical value, such as truthfulness, while others at home behave differently, it is almost impossible for the child to find a reasonable answer, especially if he has not totally reached an age of full discernment and understanding. Consequently, the child is almost always infused with hypocrisy, which so greatly stains present society and which was one of the disgraces most condemned by the Masters and by H.P. Blavatsky. If we can preserve the innocence of early childhood, we can foster the growth of a human being who can avoid falling into the trap of others' deceptions, but can still, from his own conviction, maintain his sincerity, truthfulness, and unselfishness. These will enable him to continue his spiritual development without the impediments that a lack of ethics would impose.

As a final point, we would like to emphasize the importance of gradually communicating to children the sense of responsibility that should characterize every human soul in adult life. At one stage of development—the age of the "why's"—the child asks about everything and needs answers. But as he continues to grow, both physically and psychologically, he has to begin to find out for himself what he should do, choose, study, and work at. We cannot develop persons who are dependent on others. Human evolution consists of expressing the uniqueness that each one of us needs to discover for ourselves. At the same time this should be for the benefit of all, and not merely an exhibition of conceit.

Although Theosophy instructs us about the existence of spiritual teachers and divine beings, it also admonishes us that those beings will not do the work of self-realization. Each one of us needs to accomplish this on his own. Thus he will be able to ascend to the stature, first of superman, and then of divine being. This process continues until each one of us attains the regency of a planetary or solar system, just as our system is governed by the Logos who has brought our monads to the point where they may reach the summit that the Masters have attained. This summit may recede, but it will never vanish: there are always new heights to reach and express in manifestation. We begin at the human level and will continue to ascend until we arrive at those divine summits.

Humanity completes a cycle of seven kingdoms that started with the three elemental ones in the descending arc, and which, after reaching maximum darkness in the mineral, has been searching for the light. It first looked for that light instinctively, in the vegetable and animal kingdoms, and now needs to do so consciously, at the human level. As Annie Besant said: "I would rather be blinded by the light, than sit willfully in the twilight or the dark."

Sources

Gaspar Torres was born into a Theosophical family and has been active in the Theosophical Society from his youth. He has served as national president of the TS in Cuba; made presentations at the TS international headquarters in Adyar, the Theosophical Caribbean Basin, and the Inter-American Theosophical Federation; and has supported TS work internationally. This article is based on a talk given for the TS in Bogotí¡, Colombia, in August 2010.