Quest Magazine

Printed in the Spring 2026  issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Keene, Douglas, "What about Modern Virtues?"   Quest 114:2, pg 12-13

Douglas Keene
National President

We have all heard about virtues since the time we were very young: Christian virtues, character virtues, ethical virtues, moral virtues. Conceptually, they are often paired with vices, which are to be avoided. They are also often associated with a religious upbringing, as parents and teachers struggle to teach us right from wrong. But are virtues a dusty, historic anachronism, not relevant to today’s lives? Is devotion to virtues a historic curiosity, or are they still relevant to the lives we live now? What are the modern virtues, and how are they taught? Are we, as individuals, motivated to seek them out and develop them within ourselves?

It is difficult to talk about virtues and vices without talking about reward and punishment. Do our behaviors have consequences, and who (or what) decides? Or are we free to act as we please without legal, ethical, or spiritual ramifications? Perhaps we wish to act out virtuous activity without underlying sincerity. Maybe we choose righteous acts with an eye toward our own salvation, without any real compassion for our fellow humans or other forms of life.

Confucius said, “Virtue is not left to stand alone. He who practices it will have neighbors.” One virtue begets another. We may seek virtues to defend ourselves from their opposite. However, it is not enough to admire them: they must be practiced. Proper behavior must be preceded by proper view, proper attention, and proper speech, as outlined in the Eightfold Noble Path of Buddhism.

“Virtue is a kind of health, beauty, and good habit of the soul,” Plato wrote over twenty-three centuries ago: words that resonate today. If we wish to search out virtue, how many are there, and what qualities do they include? This can vary greatly. Plato described four (often called cardinal virtues, since on these the others depend) which are wisdom, courage, moderation (or temperance), and justice. Where do we look for these today? Is it in religious institutions, academic centers, politics, service organizations, or in the ordinary daily affairs of humankind? Are these qualities recognized and sought after, or are they merely fodder for media sloganeering?

The Paramitas of Buddhism (often translated “perfections” or “perfect virtues”) are described as marks of noble character, qualities of an enlightened being, or aspects of a bodhisattva nature. The number of Paramitas is usually given as six or ten. H.P Blavatsky listed seven in The Voice of the Silence. The names for these have been translated in a number of ways, frequently as generosity, morality, renunciation, wisdom, energy, patience, truthfulness, resolution, kindness, and equanimity. A more complete understanding requires deeper and more complicated study.

H.P. Blavatsky wrote about these virtues in The Voice of the Silence. She described them thus: “These Portals on the hard and thorny way of Gnyana [Knowledge, Wisdom] . . . lead the aspirant across the waters ‘to the other shore.’ Each Portal hath a golden key that openeth its gate; and these keys are . . .”

HPB goes on to list seven keys, each virtue unlocking a gate and allowing passage along the spiritual path to enhance awareness. (Rozi Ulics outlines these in her column in Members’ Forum.) Every act of kindness and generosity is noticed and integrated into the self. Every expression of patience, indifference to pain and pleasure, and use of spiritual energy is contained within us and teaches us how to purify our lower nature. At the seventh level, we reach prajna, or wisdom, “the key to which makes of a man [or woman] a god, creating him [her] a Bodhisattva, son [daughter] of the Dhyanis.”

There are many other Theosophical perspectives on the development of virtues. In the Mahatma Letters, Master K.H. writes: “Our chief aim is to deliver humanity of this nightmare, to teach man virtue for its own sake, and to walk in life relying on himself instead of leaning on a theological crutch, that for countless ages was the direct cause of nearly all human misery.”

Virtues can lead to a more just and moral society, but they benefit the practitioners. Of course, this is not always the case: individuals may place themselves in harm’s way in a plea for justice or an effort to resist aggression. Generosity may lead to poverty, and courage to injury. In the Golden Stairs, HPB called for a “valiant defense for those that are unjustly attacked” regardless of personal consequences.

Nonetheless, if there is purity of motive and selflessness in actions, we will benefit in the long term. Sacrifice in the moment will lead to strength in the future. This need not be a calculation but may take the form of a pervasive altruism for other beings.

We are counseled to develop our virtues and eliminate our vices, but even virtues can become attachments if they are forced or practiced to enhance our self-image. In Light on the Path, Mabel Collins wrote, “The vices of man become steps in the ladder, one by one, as they are surmounted. The virtues of man are steps indeed, necessary—not by any means to be dispensed with. Yet, though they create a fair atmosphere and a happy future, they are useless if they stand alone. The whole nature of man must be used wisely by the one who desires to enter the way.”

We must move from the conscious pursuit of virtue to its unconscious display, so that these qualities have become part of our nature and are expressed naturally and spontaneously—not because we think we ought to do them, but because we can do no other.

As long as there’s conflict, inner and outer, in our world, we will always have an opportunity to deploy virtuous activity. Is there still the impetus to pursue virtues as there was a century ago, now that the influence of the church has receded in some quarters, political and economic concerns often dominate, family structure is weakened in certain locations, and there seems to be less accountability? (Note that Master K.H. regards the “theological crutch” for virtue as leading to a “nightmare.”)

Virtue is widespread and easy to find but perhaps has taken on a new paradigm, with less external conformity but more internal motivation.

Most of us wish to live in an ethical world, with virtuous inhabitants. How can we ensure this for the future? Perhaps the first step is to develop those traits within ourselves. Only when we successfully model such behaviors will others be attracted and wish to make changes in themselves. Can we hold ourselves to such standards? We can try, as we are all works in progress.

Printed in the Spring 2026  issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Srinivasan, A.V. "The Pursuit of Happiness versus Striving for Moksha"   Quest 114:2, pg 33-35

By A.V. (Sheenu) Srinivasan

 Bliss is your birthright.
                             Swami Shivananda

Happiness is like a butterfly: the more you chase it, the more it will elude you.
                             Henry David Thoreau

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.
                            The Declaration of Independence

Someone asked me recently: “Are you happy?” It hit me hard: how can anyone even think of happiness at this time when the world is in such a mess? One has to be in a coma not to realize that. Wars between India and Pakistan, Israel and Iran, Russia and Ukraine, Israel and Gaza, Israel and the West Bank of Jordan and Syria, Thailand and Cambodia, and civil war in Myanmar all menace the world. It is reported that 60,000 people have been killed in Gaza alone, and thousands of children are starving. The destruction of life and property continues while the nations of the world simply watch and the United Nations passes resolutions.

Serious political divisions are causing severe unrest in the United States, Europe, and Asia. Can it get worse? Happiness under these conditions would appear to be unthinkable.

Happiness is a serious topic, but it is one that lacks precise definition. It is very personal, with extraordinary variation among individuals and nations in their experience of it. Joyful? Ecstatic? Tranquil? What is the norm?

There has been considerable research into the concept of happiness, including attempts to rank countries on a happiness scale. This has been acknowledged as, at best, an overall view of a nation’s ideal of governance in relation to the well-being of its citizens.

Among all nations, Bhutan stands out for having linked its governance and economic strategy purposely and precisely to its citizens’ well-being. In 1974 the Bhutanese king, Jigme Singye Wangchuck, suggested discarding the concept of gross domestic product (GDP) in favor of another measure, defined as gross national happiness (GNH), or gross domestic happiness (GDH).

Much later, in 2008, a constitutional amendment codified Bhutan’s dedication to promoting happiness among its citizens. The government’s self-determined role is to create conditions that lead to economic self-reliance, environmental conservation, cultural preservation, and good governance.

With a population of under a million, Bhutan can more easily aspire to and realize its goals than larger nations. I believe its uniqueness is mainly due, not to its ranking, but to its bold declaration about the compatibility between the economy and the well-being of its people. This stance is especially noteworthy for a kingdom.

The GNH Centre Bhutan website declares: “Bhutan’s ancient legal code of 1629 states that ‘if the government cannot create happiness for its people, then there is no purpose for government to exist.’” This ancient Buddhist wisdom stressed that Bhutanese laws must promote happiness for all sentient beings. The focus was not just the nation’s economic progress, but a “flourishing human society living in harmony with nature.”

The means of measuring happiness among nations vary from one poll to another. Some of these are common-sense and are supported by data. For example, happy countries tend to be those whose cultures promote an attitude of generosity, kindness, a motivation to help and share with others, size of household (there is a limit, though!), and strong family bonds.

Richard Easterlin, late professor of economics at the University of Southern California, confirmed the “urgent need to move away from a money-centered model based on economy towards a more humane happiness-based model.” He observed that since the 1950s, economic growth has failed to make us happier. He is known for his Easterlin Paradox, formulated in 1974, which states that there is a correlation between income and happiness only up to a point, beyond which happiness does not trend upward as income increases.

The pursuit of happiness is the American Dream. Over centuries, this has attracted millions of immigrants to the United States hoping to be whatever they want to be to succeed in life. They and their progeny have often indeed done that—well beyond expectations. Hundreds of thousands of them qualify as exemplars of the dream. Perhaps you are one of them. I know I am!

Bill Gates is quoted as admitting that “a billion dollars won’t make you happy.” Instead, he gives a simple example of happiness as seeing his children do well. There is no direct connection with money in this feeling of happiness.

More and more money will not provide happiness. Instead, working towards an income point at which everyone’s normal needs (including vacations and meeting possible emergencies) are met in order to live comfortably has been shown to provide a strong sense of life satisfaction. Beyond that level, satisfaction levels off.

The generosity of Bill and Melinda Gates and Warren Buffett is a great example of how people with enormous wealth can nurture their own happiness through fostering happiness in others, notably by investing their money in public health and education initiatives around the world. The Carter Foundation is another excellent example: through it the late president Jimmy Carter and his wife, Rosalynn, helped eradicate the deadly Guinea worm disease, saving millions of lives and reducing poverty, disease, and their associated sorrows. We have all seen the inspiring videos of this couple building affordable homes for the poor. Very likely they chose to do this because it made them happy.

These are clear examples of basic steps towards attaining happiness through eliminating the misery and suffering of others. Other simpler and more obvious choices are available for anyone: viewing great paintings, reading great literature, watching children play, listening to great music, attending a play or a concert, sharing meals with family and friends, walking on the banks of a river or a beach, watching and listening to birds, and a hundred other such possibilities that do not involve money.

Research has shown that helping others in need enhances one’s self-image. In a 2022 article in the Journal of Positive Psychology, Liudmila Titova and Kennon Sheldon write, “Americans are guaranteed the right to ‘pursue happiness’ for themselves. But might they be better off if they pursued happiness for others? In five studies, we compared the two strategies, showing that, ironically, the second pursuit brings more personal happiness than the first.”

Missing from the happiness research is an important ancient source of knowledge on such matters. The Mahabharata, a great epic of India, is one such resource. In an episode known as Yaksha Prashna, an exiled prince, Yudhishtira, faces a forest spirit who challenges him with a wide range of philosophical and yet very practical questions. Let me quote here a few of the 122 questions posed and their answers (in both Sanskrit and English), which illumine the concept of happiness from thousands of years ago. In fact, the questions and answers together offer a good overview of happiness.

What in one word is happiness?
kimsvidekapadam sukham
shilamekapadm sukham
Character

Who is the friend of the dying?
Kimsvin mitram marishyat
danam mitram marishyata
His charity

Renouncing what does one become wealthy?
kim nu hitvaarthavaan bhavati
kamam hitvarthavan bhavati
Desire

Renouncing what does one become happy?
Kim nu hitvaa sukhi bhavet
lobham hitva sukhi bhavet
Greed

Who is happy?
pamcamehani shashtheva
shakam pacati sve grhe
anrnani chapravasica
Sa varicara modae
The person who is free of debt,
not in constant travel and who eats
a frugal, satisfying hot meal in his
own home every evening,
such is a happy person.

There you have it: simple, direct, crisp answers to a complicated question!

This view of happiness is only loosely related to the much loftier goal of moksha (salvation). Ancient Hindu societies and philosophies noted the pitfalls of desire, greed, and a sole focus on the accumulation of wealth.

One well-known fact about happiness is that it is not forever. When we do feel happy, we must cherish it even with the awareness that it may at some point diminish or vanish and be replaced by its opposite. Dwelling on this fact is counterproductive. In our daily life, such pairs of opposites play an inevitable role: happiness and unhappiness, day and night, hot and cold, drought and flood, dry and wet, growth and decay, life and death. They can and do occur, and there is no way to have one without the other. Such a wish is equivalent to looking for a coin with one side.

On January 26, 1950, when modern India became a sovereign republic, it chose as its motto: satyameva jayate (“truth alone triumphs”), derived from the Mundakopanishad. This was clearly chosen to define the basis for an Indian way of life. This politico-religious proclamation defines a path towards the ultimate goal of life: moksha, freedom from births and rebirths once and for all.

Nevertheless, a purposeful, meaningful, enjoyable life is not considered to be in conflict with the pursuit of moksha. The Vedas, which form the basis of Hinduism, proclaim adyeha (here and now!). That is, the hereafter will take care of itself if we pay meticulous attention to this life and enjoy it to the fullest extent by adhering to what we Hindus call chaturvidha phala purushartha: the four aspects of life, known as dharma, artha, kama, and moksha.

Dharma emphasizes and insists on duty: one’s obligation to serve society based on one’s talents. Artha has to do with the financial aspects of life; kama, with the aesthetic aspects of life (love, art, culture). No conflict is seen among these aspects, as illustrated in a stanza from the Yoga Vasishta:

Now it’s a fact that philosophical understanding
Does not preclude possession of other skills!
Thus a wise man is well able to do
Such worldly tasks as ruling a kingdom.

Hence the mandate: live a full life within the framework of dharma to reach the ultimate release of moksha, even as we enjoy life on this earth. Notice the stark difference between an unconstrained pursuit of happiness (as set out in the American Declaration of Independence) and the more restrained, outwardly focused approach provided in a framework of dharma in the Hindu view of happiness. Scripture after scripture warn us about the perils of pure materialism and how recognizing and fulfilling our sacred and social obligations will lead to a happy and meaningful life.

Long ago a mentor told me, “Culture means putting more and more restraints on ourselves!” I have never forgotten that. What a diametrically opposite view of life to one that wants more and more and even more!

Another verse from the Yoga Vasishta says:

At the gate to freedom, they say,
Stand these four mighty guards:
Discipline, analysis, good cheer,
And, fourthly, wise company.

I alluded earlier to enormous constraints required to achieve the Hindu’s ultimate goal of moksha. To illustrate that enormity, let me conclude with a parable I made up for my book Hinduism for Dummies.

You’re climbing some rock-cut steps to an ancient temple on a hill. But this temple is not to a deity. It has no priests. It has no bells to ring, and you do not bring any offerings beyond your self in body and spirit. As you climb, at each step, one after another, you discard a dogma. You reject ritualistic approaches. You sweat through the futility of pride and vanity and settle for humility. You seek satisfaction beyond the pleasure of the senses—something deeper. As you climb higher and higher, you recognize that ignorance of your real nature is the source of all problems, so your goal is to destroy ignorance. Another step up, and you realize that you do not need to abandon anything but simply to remain detached. As the ancient Hindus said, real knowledge and infinite joy are yours. With the next step, you realize that simply believing is not enough; you must experience it yourself: your Self. One more step, and you rise above mere intellect and stand on the threshold of a mystic experience, with your heart and intuition tuned to that experience.

Experience and experience alone counts on this hill. The sanctum sanctorum—the holiest of holy places—in this temple contains bliss. That is what the ancient Hindus considered worth living (dying?) for. Your interest is nothing but spiritual illumination. You have entered the temple of the Upanishads. You have reached the source of joy. Now you can begin your earnest inquiry into the ultimate Truth.

Note that with each step in this parable, we reject and discard a weakness in order to become strong—a true step towards happiness. At the end of this process of rejection, we are blissful and fully qualified to attain moksha upon passing.

This is the Hindu way. Other faiths might offer similar knowledge and guidance towards a happy, healthy, meaningful life. But this parable illustrates a powerful guide to a path to happiness.

How can we, as individuals, experience happiness when elsewhere there is unimaginable suffering? We live in a connected world. Our mission therefore ought to be world peace. We need millions, hundreds of millions, on the planet to experience happiness. How can we spread such a message of strength and peace far and wide? Who will carry on this crucial task?

Past experiences point to young people everywhere who have often risen up to right the wrongs of the world. Two recent examples stand out: Nobel Peace Prize winner Malala Yousafzai (who has been promoting the education of girls) and Greta Thunberg (who has drawn attention to climate change), illustrating two issues closely connected to bringing about world peace.

Today’s youth, armed with a positive outlook on life and using modern social media communication tools, can energize their counterparts in their communities as well as thousands of miles away. This level of connectivity allows the message to go viral. Once that happens, it must develop respect by all for all worldwide, irrespective of their religious, political, cultural, and social beliefs. Then we are close to a world at peace. Such a world is a happy world that we can look forward to live in adyeha: here and now!

Source Material

Narasimha, Roddam. Verses for the Brave: Selections from the Yoga-Vasisthta. New Delhi: Penguin Random House, 2020.

Dr. A.V. (Sheenu) Srinivasan is the author of many publications, including the books Vedic Wedding: Origins, Tradition, and Practice (National Best Book Award in 2007), A Hindu Primer: Yaksha Prashna (Benjamin Franklin Award in 2016); and Hinduism for Dummies, second edition. His papers on a variety of Hinduism-related topics have appeared in Vedanta Kesari; Prabuddha Bharata; Quest: Journal of the Theosophical Society of America; Bhavan’s Journal; and Tattva Loka. Publishers include Bangalore Press, Periplus Line, Wiley White River Press, Penguin Random House, Cambridge University Press, and Vision Books, New Delhi. His website is www.avsrinivasan.com.

Printed in the Spring 2026  issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Mitchell, Peter "An Ecology of Conditions: Meeting beyond Fixed Boundaries"   Quest 114:2, pg 33-35

By Peter Mitchell

The grace that is being given at this time is not interested in personal development. It is not concerned with individual well-being. Its purpose is to open up the energy channels that exist within our collective psyche and collective consciousness and help the heart of the world awaken. We have become so focussed on ourselves we have forgotten what has always been true, that the world itself has a higher nature, and that we are part of this greater reality.
Llewellyn Vaughan-Lee

Most of us begin to walk the spiritual path fueled by a fire and a passion that emerge from a deep, unsatisfied personal longing—a heartache to fill a perceived gap that feels painfully empty. For all the ways we seem connected globally, more people than ever feel isolated and alone, stuck inside the prison of their own minds, seemingly trapped with their chaotic thoughts and emotions.

A glimpse of another possibility is often all it takes to ignite the spark that begins the search for our true home—which turns out to be nothing other than our deepest self, our boundless center within. Every path is unique, but along the way there are usually teachers and teachings—often contradictory and frequently demanding allegiance—and it is easy to slip into the mental framework of “I haven’t got it, and I need someone else to give it to me.” One can wander through this maze for a lifetime, never fulfilling the promise that is always available.

It takes an independent willingness to stand in one’s own experience and face the momentum of the human condition—a momentum that seems to railroad over whatever “progress” we make. The life force—eros, deep wisdom, however we choose to name it—finds its own way to express itself through us, even when we resist. For our passion to awaken is the life force itself breaking through our personal shells and drawing us into its flow.

For many, including me, the spiritual impulse has been a solo journey—a deepening of insight, a loosening of personal identity, a realization of the immediacy of awareness as self. But over time I began to see that the most transformative experience occurs in relationship: not in solitude but in connection. And I find that I am not alone in this.

As we enter the second quarter of the twenty-first century, an emergence is erupting in many places—one that is much needed as our civilization teeters on the brink, in the grip of what some have termed the metacrisis. Small groups of independent, curious people who have tasted and, in some cases, realized their true unlimited nature are drawn together by a need to belong to something greater than themselves. They are beginning to meet, often digitally, through connections that span the globe. They are discovering a transformative potential that arises in the betweenspace that supports their interactions.

I have been part of one such group for the last three years and have recently written a book (The Space between Us) telling the story and discoveries of the group from the inside: not a narrative about the space between us, but one from within it. I have witnessed participants enter this living, vital, awake field of commonality, bringing “problems” that once seemed to block their self-recognition—only to find those blocks often melt away as they are met within the deeper wisdom of the shared alchemical field. They discover an ease of being that invites them into its embrace, where the tension of “holding it all together” is no longer a valid response. Something more open, more vulnerable, more trusting, and more authentic is called for—and often discovered.

We have witnessed people transform in real time, finding the confidence to stand in what they have realized through years of practice. And it is not only individuals who change. Over the three years of our unfolding together, the transformation has deepened beyond our familiar sense of personal self into that realm where we are not—and never have been—separate. There is a wholeness and sense of belonging that transcend our personal definitions, naturally expanding to include others in the group, and beyond even that. We have recognized this as awakening together.

We have come to understand some of the elements that seem to catalyze this transformative potential. That is not to say we have found a mechanism or a technique—we are not trying to flatten the mystery into a strategy. But we have noticed there are certain qualities that facilitate its emergence—what we have come to call an ecology of conditions. This essay explores how these key elements weave together.

Over time, we have observed that the field of shared presence doesn’t emerge through effort or intention alone. In our first meeting—four friends connecting for the simple joy of being together—the field we discovered was an unexpected and very welcome fifth guest at the table. It has been carried forward as the group has unfolded and expanded (though perhaps it is the field that has carried us all along). The field flowers when certain relational qualities are alive within and between us: not techniques to be applied, but organic conditions, each one supporting the others in a living ecology.

At the root of this ecology is authenticity—the willingness to show up as we are, where we are, and at whatever level of capacity we have discovered within ourselves. When the subtle tension of self-presentation relaxes—when we stop trying to appear wise, spiritual, or composed—something genuine begins to move. Dropping fully into the texture of who we are as we are, we become real to ourselves, and in that realness, there is no barrier to meeting others. The energy once bound in self-protection becomes available for attunement and connection. Authenticity is a doorway: a return to what is already here.

From this doorway grows sovereignty—the grounded confidence that allows each of us to stand in our own center without collapsing into the collective. Founded in real integrity, true sovereignty is not the isolation of the separate self but the capacity to remain rooted while in relationship. When each person stands in their own inner authority, the field gains clarity; intimacy deepens and comes alive. We are no longer seeking approval or belonging through agreement; we can meet one another as whole beings.

Vulnerability then becomes possible. To risk being seen in our uncertainty—to trust our inner experience enough to voice it within the shared space—invites intimacy through our transparency. This willingness to risk prevents gatherings from hardening into safe but stagnant routines. It keeps gatherings alive, inviting trust in ourselves and one another.

Trust is experiential—a felt sense of safety in which our defenses can soften. When trust is present, we relax into a rhythm that is both deeply human and subtly sacred. Risk and trust are two sides of the same coin: each deepens the other.

This invites comfort with not-knowing as the living context for our discussions and explorations. We meet not to prove how much we already know but to discover what wants to reveal itself. In not-knowing, we relinquish the need to fix or define, allowing the field to remain an organism of discovery.

The invisible thread that guides this process is attunement—a quiet orientation toward what is true and a sensitivity to the field itself and each other. When we attune, we are listening more than speaking, sensing more than deciding, receptive to a response that is unknowable until we begin to speak from recognition. Attunement, rooted in an underlying stillness, holds the space with a poised attention we can all feel, catalyzing a subtle coherence.

Coherence is not uniformity but resonance—a shared alignment of attention and sincerity that allows diversity to bring depth and allow a more inclusive perspective to emerge. Coherence is both the outcome and the stabilizing structure of the field. In its presence, insight and healing unfold naturally, without coercion or control.

One of the most transformative aspects of meeting in such an open and trusting space is the gift of peer recognition—the simple, luminous act of seeing and being seen. Recognition is not flattery or praise: it is a mirror that reflects what is real. When someone speaks from truth, the resonance is unmistakable. Such moments reinforce integrity, coherence, and especially confidence.

When someone performs rather than reveals, it is equally apparent from the way the field responds. We sense it as discontinuity, a subtle dis-ease in the relational fabric. The coherence of the field depends on our capacity to meet such moments with honesty and compassion, inviting one another back to vulnerability and the shared ground of authenticity.

All of this depends, to some extent, on the depth of experience of the facilitators, at least in the beginning. Depth here does not refer to knowledge or status but to a cultivated capacity to understand, hold the field steady, and remain present through the discomfort of things going offtrack. Without that maturity, openness can easily become reactivity or contraction. Depth provides the ballast that steadies the collective vessel as we move into unknown waters. It allows these meetings to include those who have not yet stabilized deeply in their own understanding and who may struggle initially to trust the space and be vulnerable. In this sense, the field becomes an alchemical chamber for real transformation.

Supporting this is motivation—the inner flame that draws each person to the work. Some are called by curiosity, others by pain, longing, devotion, or simply the mysterious recognition that they are drawn to participate. Whatever its form, sincerity of motivation anchors the process. When participants understand the depth of their own calling, their commitment to the field becomes steady and trustworthy.

When these qualities weave together, something larger than any one of us begins to move. Over time, as personal agendas dissolve, a recognition dawns of the impersonal dimension. We sense that what moves through the group is not generated by us but arrives through us. Life itself—the same current that animates the world we live in—is awakening through relationship. The impersonal balances the personal; it keeps the field fluid and free of fixed identity.

Out of this deepening recognition grows a profound sense of belonging. Identity begins to expand beyond the personal as we find ourselves woven into a wider web of being—human, more than human, and unseen. This belonging is not something we achieve; it is the realization that we have never been separate from the whole.

Finally, when these qualities align, they ripen into communion—the fruit of the field. Communion is the living experience of “we”: a state in which individuality is retained, yet boundaries are porous and a deep mutuality is felt. It is the natural expression of awakened relatedness, where the ground of consciousness reveals itself as inherently shared.

This ecology is not a set of rules but an inner orientation that notices resistance and is willing to move past it. Each quality nourishes the others, and all are held within a greater mystery that cannot be managed or owned. The field teaches us, again and again, that we seek not a future achievement but a present reality—revealed in the simple, courageous act of meeting beyond fixed boundaries.

We are living in a time when the old containers—religious, political, psychological, economic, spiritual—are straining under the weight of complexity, rarely flexible enough to respond to the urgency and rapidity of change. In our hyperconnected age, information travels around the world faster than we can draw a breath, and falsehoods often travel swifter than truth.

The crises of our age are not only ecological and social; they are crises of relatedness—of remembering who and what we are in the vast unfolding of life. The field of awakening that reveals itself between us is not an escape from the world’s pain but a way of meeting it with new eyes. It is eros sprouting up through the cracks, not confronting the old but bringing the new into existence.

Each time we gather in sincerity and openness, we participate in a quiet revolution of perception. We begin to realize that consciousness is not a private possession but a shared medium, a luminous atmosphere in which we are all breathing. This shift—from isolation to participation, from seeking to belonging—may seem subtle, yet its implications are immense. It changes the quality of how we listen, how we act, and how we care. As psychologist Ilya Prigogine observed: “When a complex system is far from equilibrium, small islands of coherence in a sea of chaos have the capacity to shift the entire system to a higher order.”

The ecology of conditions described here is one expression of a larger movement—a collective quickening that is happening across the world in many different forms. It is as if life itself is experimenting with new ways of knowing and being through us. Whether we name it the evolution of consciousness, the awakening of the world soul, or simply the return to what is real, it carries the same fragrance: humility, courage, and a deep reverence for the mystery that lives between us.

As our civilization trembles on its uncertain threshold, such spaces of genuine meeting are not an indulgence: they are essential. They remind us that wholeness has never been lost, only overlooked; that healing arises not from mastery but from presence; and that the future we long for is born in the quality of attention we offer one another now.

To meet beyond fixed boundaries is to participate in the renewal of the world. It is to stand, together, in the open field where the human and the divine recognize themselves as one life, endlessly unfolding.

Peter Mitchell is a contemplative writer whose work explores the dynamic threshold between the unlimited and its expression in manifestation. He is particularly interested in the living edge between individuality and shared awakening. His book The Space between Us: Awakening Together in a Fractured World invites a new understanding of spiritual maturity as interrelational. He cofacilitates Presence Groups and shares his reflections at petermitchell.life. Starting in January 2026, Peter has been cofacilitating Presence Groups with Anne Sweet (Everyday Enlightened Living and the End of Seeking). To find out more, you can join their mailing list: https://www.between-us-groups.com/join-us

Printed in the Spring 2026  issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Sorkhabi, Rasoul "Benjamin Franklin’s Experiment with Virtues"   Quest 114:2, pg 30-32

By Rasoul Sorkhabi

The year 2026 marks the 250th anniversary of the foundation of the United States of America; it also marks the 320th anniversary of Benjamin Franklin’s birth.

Franklin holds a unique position among the founding fathers of the United States. He was the oldest of all and did not run for presidency; he was the first American scientist and inventor; and he was the only founding father who signed all four documents that founded the United States, from the 1776 Declaration of Independence, the alliance with France, the peace treaty with Britain, and the 1787 Constitution.

Franklin was also a self-made man, financially, intellectually, and spiritually. He was born into a poor family, and at age seventeen fled his hometown of Boston to Philadelphia, where he acquired enormous wealth and fame. He did not attend any college, but he was self-taught and a voracious reader. by the time of his old age, his home library contained more than 4,000 books, shelved from floor to ceiling.

Spiritually too, Franklin was a self-made person in the sense that he did not blindly follow any denomination or tradition, even though he was open to religions operating in his environment, from Quakerism to Freemasonry. As a young boy, Franklin compiled his theosophical principles and prayers in a little book he called Articles of Belief and Acts of Religion. He embraced Deism: the belief in One God as creator of the universe and its laws, which made creation logical and amenable to science and reason. He respected the social rights and moral teachings of all religions, but he seldom attended Sunday rituals, mainly because he found the sermons to be more about how to be a good denominational person than a good citizen.

Franklin’s most systematic effort, as he phrased it in the Autobiography, “the bold and arduous Project of arriving at moral Perfection,” was his experiment with a set of self-assigned virtues. I use the word “experiment” because that is how Franklin conducted his works, ranging from his printing business and scientific experiments with lightning to helping to found the American republic.

Around 1728, in his early twenties in Philadelphia, while running a print shop business and leading a study group called the Leather Apron Club (or Junta), Franklin began his project on “moral perfection.” He selected twelve virtues for his practice, as listed in his Autobiography:

1. Temperance. Eat not to dullness. Drink not to elevation.

2. Silence. Speak not but what may benefit others or yourself; avoid trifling conversation.

3. Order. Let all your things have their places; let each part of your business have its time.

4. Resolution. Resolve to perform what you ought; perform without fail what you resolve.

5. Frugality. Make no expense but to do good to others or yourself: i.e., waste nothing.

6. Industry. Lose no time: be always employ’d in something useful; cut off all unnecessary actions.

7. Sincerity. Use no hurtful deceit; think innocently and justly; and if you speak, speak accordingly.

8. Justice. Wrong none by doing injuries, or omitting the benefits that are your duty.

9. Moderation. Avoid extreams [sic]; forbear resenting injuries so much as you think they deserve.

10. Cleanliness. Tolerate no uncleanness in body, cloaths, or habitation.

11. Tranquility. Be not disturbed at trifles, or at accidents common or unavoidable.

12. Chastity. Rarely use venery but for Health or Offspring; Never to Dullness, Weakness, or the Injury of your own or another’s Peace or Reputation.

Franklin came up with this list of virtues after “various Enumerations of the moral Virtues I had met with in my Reading.” He had most likely read Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics, in which the great Greek philosopher defines humans as rational, social animals who can achieve eudaimonia, happiness or human flourishing, by cultivating certain virtues, particularly courage, temperance, liberality, magnificence, magnanimity, ambition, patience (good temper), truthfulness, wittiness, friendliness, modesty, and righteousness (justice). For Aristotle, a virtue was a quality balanced between deficiency and excess. For instance, courage, when lacking, is cowardice; in excess, it is recklessness.

When Franklin showed his list to a Quaker friend, the friend commented that Franklin had forgotten one important virtue: humility. The friend, “mentioning several Instances,” told Franklin that he “was generally proud.” Therefore, Franklin, perhaps as his first practice of humility, agreed with his friend and added the following to his list of virtues:

13. Humility. Imitate Jesus and Socrates.

Next, Franklin prepared a little booklet to record his progress on his “Execution of the Plan for Self-Examination.” On each page of the booklet, he made a chart with columns for the seven days of the week and rows for the thirteen virtues. His goal was “to live without committing any Fault at any time” and to “conquer all that either Natural Inclination, Custom, or Company might lead me into.” To strengthen his practice, he also included relevant aphorisms. For the first virtue, temperance, Franklin quoted from the Proverbs of Solomon: “Length of days is in her right hand: and in her left hand riches and honour. Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace” (Proverbs 3: 16–17).

Franklin devoted one week to each of the virtues. “I was surprised,” he noted, “to find myself so much fuller of faults than I had imagined.” Some virtues were harder than others. Silence was relatively “easy,” but order gave him “the most Trouble.” He resolved the issue of order in his own way: He reasoned that he was a busy man and had to mingle with the world and often receive people at their own hours. So it was not possible to observe order exactly to the letter. He also thought that many other busy people would face this challenge, and one can only do one’s best.

As for humility, Franklin confessed: “I cannot boast of much Success in acquiring the Reality of this Virtue; but I had a good deal with regard to the Appearance of it.” He added: “In reality there is perhaps no one of our natural Passions so hard to subdue as Pride. Disguise it, struggle with it, beat it down, stifle it, mortify it as much as one pleases, it is still alive, and will every now and then peep out and show itself.” In saying this, Franklin had at least mastered the virtue of sincerity.

Franklin apparently treasured his booklet, which he wanted to call “The Art of Virtue,” because it was a “method” to “acquire the Habitude of all these Virtues” and “be Master” of them.

In Benjamin Franklin: An American Life, Walter Isaacson writes: “As a young boy, Franklin seemed to approach his moral perfection program with an endearing sincerity, and even as an old man seemed proud of its worthiness.” That is perhaps why, when Franklin wrote his Autobiography in the last three decades of his life, he thought it worthwhile to devote part 2 of the book (written in 1784 in France) to his theosophy and experiments with virtues.

A glance at the list of Franklin’s thirteen virtues shows that it was like a crash course on self-actualization and self-improvement to perform better in life, work, and society. For this reason, during the Gilded Age in the late nineteenth century, as Irvin G. Wyllie describes in The Self-Made Man in America, capitalists, bankers, and authors like Horatio Alger, Andrew Carnegie, and Thomas Mellon read Franklin’s Autobiography as self-help advice for a virtuous and successful life. 

Virtues like love, compassion, charity, empathy, and benevolence are absent from Franklin’s list. This does not mean that he lacked these qualities altogether. He was compassionate and benevolent in his own way. For instance, he refused to patent any of his inventions because, as he wrote in his Autobiography, “as we enjoy great advantages from the inventions of others, we should be glad of an opportunity to serve others by any invention of ours; and this we should do freely and generously.” And one of his ethical principles, as he noted in his Autobiography, was “the most acceptable service to God is doing good to man.”

Franklin’s experiment shows that he considered it important to cultivate and practice virtue to each person’s capacity and that a virtuous life is also pragmatic—doing well by doing good.

Sources

Franklin, Benjamin. The Autobiography. New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 2003.

Isaacson, Walter. Benjamin Franklin: An American Life. New York: Simon & Schuster, 2003.

Wyllie, Irvin. The Self-Made Man in America: The Myth of Rags to Riches. New Brunswick, N.J.: Rutgers University Press, 1954.

Rasoul Sorkhabi, PhD, is a professor at the University of Utah. His life spans both East and West, as he has lived and studied in Iran, India, Japan, and for most of his life in the U.S. This is his seventh contribution to Quest.

Figure captions:

Figure 1. Benjamin Franklin, c. 1785, portrait by Joseph-Siffred Duplessis (National Portrait Gallery/Wikipedia Commons).

Figure 2. A page of the schedule from Franklin’s daily and weekly “moral perfection” program.