The Future of the Theosophical Society Seen from the World Congress

By Betty Bland

Theosophical Society - Betty Bland served as President of the Theosophical Society in America and made many important and lasting contributions to the growth and legacy of the TSA. Excitement filled the air when more than 500 members from 39 different countries attended the Ninth World Congress of the Theosophical Society, held in Sydney, Australia, January 11 -18, 2001. Long-time friends and new ones among the many cultures represented at the Congress forged the bonds of brotherhood that cross all cultural boundaries. All were struck by our similarities, interest in the same studies, and concerns over the same issues.

"The Future Role of the Theosophical Society" was the issue under consideration in the workshop series for which I was responsible. The hundred or so participants in this workshop first explored our roots, remembering our foundations in the Ancient Wisdom, the grand purposes espoused by our founders, and the pioneering spirit of our early workers. We then broke up into smaller groups to tackle our hopes for the future.

Each of the four groups considered three issues.

  • What should the Theosophical Society look like in the future (in its activities and outreach)?

  • What ought to be the role of the Theosophical Society in our world society (in its thrust or purpose)

  • What action plan might we adopt for each of the preceding two issues, both at the personal level and the organizational level?

During one of the last sessions of the Congress, each workshop leader reported to the whole body. Below is a summary of the points made during the discussions of our groups.

What ought to be the role of the problems

As in all efforts, one must first acknowledge the problems to be dealt with as one plans for the future. The most common problems are these:

  • What ought to be the role of the opposition to the Theosophical Society by some religions and cultures

  • Objections to our emblem and motto by some religious groups

  • Rigidity and authoritarianism among ourselves about what Theosophy is

  • What ought to be the role of the concern over how much change is appropriately generated by new or young people

  • Unwillingness on the part of some members to try new things

  • Budgetary constraints and fearfulness to take new actions

  • Quandary over whether or not to charge fees for our programs

  • Great need for more professionally skilled members

Future roles

We hope that in the future the Theosophical Society will be increasingly each of these:

  • A multicultural center of brotherhood

  • The guardian and transmitter of the Ancient Wisdom

  • A nucleus of socially and politically concerned members

  • A school of philosophy and spiritual education

  • A beacon of light for seekers

Four major areas of effort were identified as ways to achieve the ideal Theosophical Society of the future.

Welcoming

The reception of each new seeker who comes through our doors is so important that it was treated as the first category, with the following suggested actions:

  • Appoint greeters for every meeting

  • Set up mentorship or assign a big brother or sister for each new member

  • Have plenty of humor, smiles, and fun (The importance of this is not to be taken lightly.)

  • Hold periodic open-house events

  • Give new members jobs to do

  • Walk the talk

  • Include music and the arts

  • Remember the importance of the ambience of the lodge

  • Have open attitudes toward newcomers

Outreach

Although we do not view ourselves as evangelical, we recognize the importance of being visible and accessible to seekers. If we are not growing, we are dying. Here are some ideas for attracting newcomers:

  • Develop a good image and personal enthusiasm for the Theosophical Society

  • Use more modern terminology

  • Develop good posters, fliers, ads, and brochures

  • Maintain bookstores and libraries

  • Place Theosophical books in public libraries

  • Use technological tools, such as Websites, television, and radio

  • Use interaction with related groups as a way to become better known

  • Establish schools and educational programs for the young

Program focus

We should offer a variety of programs for those who attend our groups, such as these:

  • Presentations focused on the Ancient Wisdom

  • Applied Theosophy

  • Pathways for self-education and development

  • Encouragement for personal living skills and engaged living

  • Meditation

  • Social interaction promoting brotherhood

  • Group work in small groups

  • Interactive and experiential activities

  • Open dialog with new ideas

Organizational charges

Tasks requiring effort at the organizational level are these:

  • Produce multimedia to stimulate interest

  • Publish in other languages than English

  • Develop introductory courses for new members

  • Create packaged formats for talks and workshops

  • Share programs among groups and sections

  • Have more involvement with local groups

  • Publish the Theosophical classics in updated language

All of the workshop participants were amazed at the similarity among Theosophical groups everywhere, which have similar challenges and goals. We ended by challenging each other and all Theosophists to work together to achieve some of the aims listed above, asking each member to choose at least one or two items from the above lists to be their own personal project as a way of bringing about new visions of the Theosophical Society in the twenty-first century.


Betty Bland, a life member of the Theosophical Society, has served in local Study Centers, in the Mid South Federation, on the boards of several related organizations, and on the National Board for the last 14 years. She has been a teacher, employment counselor, and systems analyst. Now living in Pennsylvania, she operates a small business from her home.


Sojourn in Shangri-la

By Gary Corseri

Theosophical Society - Gary Corseri has published two collections of poetry: Random Descent (Anhinga) and Too Soon, As Always (Georgia Poetry Society Press). He wrote the libretto for Reverend Everyman, an opera staged by Florida State and Portland State universities and broadcast over Atlanta PBS. His articles, poems, and fiction have appeared in Quest, New York Times, Village Voice, Sky, Georgia Review, Redbook, and elsewhere. His most recent work is another novel, A Fine Excess: An Australian Odyssey (Xlibris Corporation, www.Xlibris.com, Orders@Xlibris.com), described by its cover blurb as "like Kerouac's On the Road--with a global beat" and ending with "a transcendental vision."I am walking like Bugs Bunny walked when he walked behind Elmer Fudd, mimicking Fudd's hunting him. I am doing this amidst a dozen strangers outside a classroom of the Krotona Institute, high on a hill overlooking southern California's Ojai valley. I'm in my stocking feet, and one foot goes down very deliberately to a silent chord of three seconds while the other balances precariously in the air. It doesn't matter how funny I look with my Fudd-Bunny impersonation because each of my classmates is equally intent upon their own deliberate gait and posture. It's a focusing exercise; and when I don't feel like Bunny, I feel like a Cherokee, imagining my moccasins ever so gently touching the earth. I think I can feel the wobble of the earth and I seem to hear the song it sings in the hot dry breath of the cypresses undulating like waves to the Topa Topa ranges.

Jim Lassen-Willems has given us this exercise, and it follows hard and soft upon the exercise with the pretzel. It was one of those party-favor pretzels. We each got one to know with our fingertips as though we were reading Braille. We each got one to savor with our nostrils and to touch with a flick of our lizard tongues as if we were tasting for the first time the salt of the ocean, the Pesach salt of tears--whatever associations might flood the senses. And when we finally eat it, it is the torrent of the sea breaking starch, it is Lot's wife frozen in regret, it is Gandhi's Great Salt March--all in a little pretzel!

"To see the world in a grain of sand," Blake wrote, and my experience on a two-week Florence Tanner Foundation grant has been very much about that--and about what Jim and Shirley Nicholson call "incarnating the knowledge." In the class they co-teach, it's Shirley's job to lay out the logos in the am. This ranges from Bell's Theorem--"Put a spin on one atom," Shirley interpolates, "and another, at a distance, picks it up as if in sympathy"--to fundamental questions of epistemology--how we know what we think we know. Shirley reminds us that the source of "intuition" is in tuere--to look within, and she tells the story of Elias Howe and the sewing machine.

Howe had all the basic concepts, but he couldn't figure out where to put the hole. He tried it at the end, as with a regular needle, and he tried it in the middle and the thread kept getting tangled. Then he had a dream in which natives attacked him with spears with holes in their tips!

The aim is to see with our whole being, to get mind, body and spirit in synch, to experience what Helena Blavatsky called "direct beholding." Kant said thought without intuition is blind, and intuition without thought is empty. Problem is, there's so much to distract us in the hullabaloo of getting and spending, most of us don't know what's what. "If the doors of perception were cleansed," Blake tells us, "then everything would appear . . . as it is--infinite." A perfectly delightful thought. But a little scary, too. The infinite majesty of Zeus, after all, contains the Gorgon's gaze as well.

So in the afternoon Lassen-Willems helps prepare us for that mutual gazing. ("The eye through which I see the Infinite," Meister Eckhart wrote, "is also the eye through which the Infinite sees me.") The preparation may involve walking like Bugs Bunny and it may involve deep breathing exercises. In the latter, we learn how to bring the energy of the earth up through the soles of our feet. Or, we breathe deeply of the ether and let that energy swirl down to our soles. Once we're grounded, the electricity can flow. I can also make myself lightheaded by releasing energy through my crown chakra. I dance out of class. I'm shining.

I'm a bright star driving my red, rented Ford Taurus through downtown Ojai. A few days before, Joy Mills and I drove to the Happy Valley School in the upper valley. I'm honored, of course, to have the illustrious Ms Mills as my tour guide. On a high bluff overlooking the valley, we pause at a scenic overpass. We stand in the spot--oh sacred temenos of movie lore!--the very spot where Ronald Coleman stood when he first beheld the mystical valley of "Shangri-la" in Lost Horizons.

Playing the jaded scholar-adventurer Robert Conway, the great actor gave the performance of a lifetime as a man who stumbles upon Paradise, loses it, then claws his way back. James Hilton's novel described a secret Tibetan valley, accessible by a single, narrow pass. It is a place of beauty and tranquility where the wearing stresses of life have been eliminated by Thoreau-like simplification. A place where covetousness is dispelled through the elixir of inner harmony in balance with nature and the rankling disparities of power and wealth are compressed so that each citizen has his and her place and work, and all may live in dignity, passing, at last, through the veil of life as gently as a summer zephyr parting a muslin curtain. In this Hesse-like Shambhala, the best men and women are the scholar-leaders, blessed with the time to study, teach, and uphold. Blessed with the time to dream and to be.

I am driving my red Taurus now and I am shining. I am shining because Krotona and Ojai are much like the imaginary Shangri-la. Twenty five minutes to the West I can watch the sun go down over the Channel Islands, off the Pacific coast of Ventura. Twenty five minutes towards the Topa Topas (Gopher Gophers!) and I'm driving past Krishnamurti's home to watch the sun's soft decrescendo from Meditation Mount.

In the parking area, a half dozen cars betoken other sunset-pilgrims. I run my palms up the skin-smooth eucalyptus trunks, my way of farewell. I'll be leaving soon, back to Atlanta's chockablock suburbs and parking-lot interstates. I need to review what I've learned.

I make my way past the meditation room and the assembly room, down the short trail. Like Lear, I can sniff my way in the fading light. My hand may smell of mortality, but there's immortality in the cascade of desert fragrances.

Every morning when I open my curtains at Krotona, the Topa Topas seem to unfold like an accordion playing the song of light. But the view from Meditation Mount is a different prospect. It's not an accordion I think of here, but Hokusai's prints: for the peaks rise hillock on hillock, swept to rocky gray crests by the soft winds of eons. Orange and avocado groves stretch like green algae in the valley below. The hot wind caresses the face; the patchwork vineyards shudder and a thousand scattered petals loose their blending scents. One feels a whisper may be heard for miles.

I am standing in the palace of splendor where Yin and Yang come together for a moment and I must nourish the memory like hearth fire.

"Fall in love with Creation," Sister Gabrielle Uhlein has advised. "Our very living is a pedagogy. We live our lives a certain way--we teach." I can still hear the chanting from the Greek Orthodox service which she played for us that morning at Krotona.

"Western civilization is predicated upon the notion of 'being right,' " she said, "that we can come to a place where there is no more tension. But the place of tension is where creativity takes place. . . . Change takes place most dramatically at the edge, along the shoreline. That's where the possibility for the new world occurs.

"We are always participating in the story of heaven and earth. Participation is not an option--our choice is in how we relate."

"All real living is meeting," Martin Buber wrote. And here, in this magic place--oh, not the sterile "magical kingdom" of a manufactured Disneyland!--here I've met kindred questers on a hill above a valley and had a chance to think and integrate, to countenance confusion and make peace with it.

If I stand in the palace where Yin and Yang conjoin it is because beyond me great spokes of Kali's wheel sweep over the planet like scythes. Each belongs to each: consolidation, disintegration, life, death, and rebirth.

And I know I must wander and leave this place of peace. Participation is not an option. "The struggle draws out the beauty of the eagle," as the good Sister has said.

The fireball sinks, a pink moment flares across the sky. I bow to a cactus blossom and imbibe its scent. Then kneel to the scent of another species alongside it. Each is good, subtle, different. Then I kneel to another blossom on the same cactus and I am just a little surprised to find that it, too, is good, subtle, and different from its contiguous neighbor.

And why not?


Gary Corseri has published two collections of poetry: Random Descent (Anhinga) and Too Soon, As Always (Georgia Poetry Society Press). He wrote the libretto for Reverend Everyman, an opera staged by Florida State and Portland State universities and broadcast over Atlanta PBS. His articles, poems, and fiction have appeared in Quest, New York Times, Village Voice, Sky, Georgia Review, Redbook, and elsewhere. His most recent work is another novel, A Fine Excess: An Australian Odyssey (Xlibris Corporation, www.Xlibris.com, Orders@Xlibris.com), described by its cover blurb as "like Kerouac's On the Road--with a global beat" and ending with "a transcendental vision."


Christianity-Theosophy Conference: The Imperative of Love

The Imperative of Love

By David Bland

Many of us have seen the brightly colored string or beaded bracelet around a friend's wrist, decorated with the letters "WWJD." The phrase these letters capture--"What would Jesus do?"--was coined by a Sunday School teacher as a way to help remind her students that all of life must be tested against the example of the historical Jesus.

Just what was that example? It was of the man who showed compassion for a woman, outcast because of her state of uncleanness caused by a twelve-year-long issue of blood. It was of the man who saw in little children the real embodiment of the divine--the ultimate meaning of the Kingdom of God. It was of the man who went beyond efforts to entrap him so he could be an instrument for a man to regain his sight. But the epitome of the example this Jesus of Nazareth embodies is summarized in what he gave all of us as the Great Commandment, "that you love one another."

In that golden nugget At the Feet of the Master, we are told, "Of all the qualifications, Love is the most important,for if it is strong enough in a man, it forces him to acquire all the rest, and all the rest without it would never be sufficient." In every faith tradition there are comparable calls for us to actualize that one quality that can give us the wings to soar with the eagles rather than to be immersed in the morass of pettiness, selfishness, and inhumanness. However, as our histories so graphically portray, we have chosen many things over the joy and freedom that can be ours when we open ourselves to love. Today's religious writers and speakers urge us audience to reclaim the "high-ground," to ask the WWJD question, or its moral equivalent within the other faith traditions such as Buddhist, Hindu, or Muslim.

Through the years, the Theosophical Society has provided an unencumbered arena in which to explore life's questions with believers of the world's religions. In the workshop recently held to explore a greater interface between the Theosophical Society and the Christian tradition, it was recognized that some Christian faith tenets can indeed inhibit dialogue and create what may appear as in surmountable barriers to open exploration. As the participants in that workshop, members of the Society from various Christian backgrounds, worked through these issues, we identified our dilemma. Each of us recognized that dogmas, if accepted at face value, will continue to be a chasm, but we also realized that there are principles that can bridge that chasm.

If one accepts the imperative of love, the interpretations that would divide can be placed to the side, and an atmosphere of love and understanding created. Once we have walked around each other's house, or shared fellowship, and experienced the presence of the Christ in one another, we will ratchet down our defenses and really begin to know the answer to the WWJD question. The apostle Paul wrote to a church to which he had given some of his most creative ministry:

Love is patient; love is kind and envies no one. Love is never boastful, nor conceited, nor rude; never selfish, not quick to take offence. Love keeps no score of wrongs; does not gloat over other men's sins, but delights in the truth. There is nothing love cannot face; there is no limit to its faith, its hope, and its endurance. Love will never come to an end. . . . In a word, there are three things that last forever: faith, hope, and love; but the greatest of them all is love. [I Cor. 13.4-13, New English Bible)

There can and must be an expanded and enlightened exploration of how Theosophy complements and enhances Christianity's message of love to all mankind. The recent workshop has given all of us who participated in it an opportunity to bring into focus this dialogue, incorporating the principles that unite rather than divide. We have made a beginning. Let us love one another.


David Bland has degrees from Wake Forest University, North Carolina State University, and Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary. He is CEO fo rMcGregor Industries, an architectural steel fabrication and installation company. A member of the Theosophical Society since 1970, he is committed to increasing dialogue and understanding between Christianity and Theosophy.


The Next Stages in Human Spiritual Evolution, Part Two

By Robert Ellwood

Theosophical Society - Robert Ellwood is emeritus professor of religion at the University of Southern California and a former vice-president of the Theosophical Society in America. He currently resides at the Krotona School of Theosophy.What will the religion of the sixth and seventh root races be? The seventh'swill no doubt be whatever the religion of a single human megabrain is like, but that gets ahead of the story-one thing at a time. The contours of faith in the sixth root race are now beginning to emerge. Signs abound; the transition appears to be already underway. The twentieth century was a time of great religious change, much of it beneath the surface of exoteric religious institutions.

Although regrettably plenty of iron-hard attitudes remain in the world around religious nationalism and dogmatism, it must be acknowledged that at least the religious "playing field" has changed dramatically since about 1900. Virtually everyone must now recognize that the arguments about religious truth take place in a pluralistic world, and this realization changes our concept of the very nature of belief. A worldview, even a conservative, traditionalist one, must now be seen as a choice made in the face of the possibility of other choices, rather than simply imposed by tradition or authority.

In such an age, an independent organization like the Theosophical Society can have an important role: first, as a paradigm or model of a movement based on the free choice and affiliation of mature members, each in his or her own way; second, as an organization whose teaching affirms the intrinsic value of pluralism as such, recognizing that the knowledge of the Ancient Wisdom each of us has individually is imperfect.

An attitude of respectful pluralism is, in fact, a growing reality at the end of the twentieth century. Even though many people are not yet ready to acknowledge the new reality openly, one can see widespread evidence that religions are actually increasingly regarded as subjective structures that we ourselves construct to negotiate our relation to absolute reality, rather than as objective truths. People change religions freely; they "blend" religions in the increasing number of interreligious marriages and families; they accept that most of the societies of the world are pluralistic ones in which people need to get along with each other. I know of Christian-Jewish families who observe both Christmas and Passover, and Christian-Buddhist families who display both the cross and the image of the Enlightened One in their home.

There are exceptions, but throughout present-day culture, religions are often no longer seen as matters for doctrinal or logical consistency, or for institutional loyalty, as admirable as those virtues may be in some contexts. Instead, they are perceived as invaluable but flexible symbol-systems that maybe employed by individuals in a variety of ways: as instruments of family or community cohesion, as channels for one's aspirations toward the highest realities, as cultural heritages, as inspirations for good living and spirituality, with a dimension of depth.

All the ideas outlined here are very much in line with the Theosophical expectation that we are now moving into the era of the sixth root race, or perhaps more technically, the sixth subrace of the fifth root race, which will prepare for the sixth. We need first to remind ourselves again that the present fifth root race was intended especially to explore and experience the meaning of the material plane. That is its particular role in the course of our long pilgrimage from out of the Halls of Light, which are our true home, for the sake of experience in this and other worlds before our return, enriched and ennobled, to the Source.

For the most part we have done well what we were supposed to do: explore and understand the material composition of the universe. Our science and technology have brought us incomparable knowledge of the laws of nature, of the atom and the galaxy, and of the application of these laws in the making of tools from the flint blade to the computer. There have, of course, been down sides, beginning with the terrible misuse of technology for human exploitation and war, owing to the dismal fact that our moral evolution has hardly kept pace with out scientific progress.

A no less grievous consequence is that the very success of the scientific way of thinking has suggested it as a model of philosophizing in other spheres where its application is more dubious, such as the religious. A master in The Mahatma Letters speaks of our civilization as one which "rests so exclusively upon intellect." Insofar as this applies to religion, it points to the way religion has been seen so much as a matter of dogmas, like scientific axioms or laws, which entail other doctrines with virtually mathematical logic, all of which need to be imposed with the harsh rigor of nature itself.

But this is a very fifth-race way of looking at religion, and not at all the only way possible. The great religions themselves, for all their doctrines, gesture in another direction by holding up conscience, and above all love, as the final court of appeal in the mind and in ethics. If supremacy of conscience means anything, it means that the inner integrity of the individual is more important than any mental construct. If love means anything, it means accepting others in their differences from oneself as well as in their similarities. It says that we want to grow mutually by exploring those differences with appreciation and that this experience of mutuality is deeper and better than just preaching one's dogma at others, take it or leave it.

Increasingly in our world we are coming to see this interactive loving kind of understanding as the way the world ought to be, across religions, castes, races, nationalities, personal differences all areas in which we have laid down many rigid rules as the shadow side of fifth-root-race thinking, with its scientific or pseudoscientific logic. In the sixth root race our calling will not be to pursue some one way with exclusive consistency, but to expand our capacity for love by embracing persons of all kinds and to explore their inwardness with sensitivity and appreciation. Along with this, will come an appropriate recovery of psychic and mystical capacities, the necessary tools for truly profound understanding of ourselves and of that which is beyond ourselves.

There will still be problems, of course, for the sixth root race is not the end of the journey, and some issues, perhaps unimaginable to us now, will remain to be resolved in the seventh or on other worlds. One is fairly familiar: how does one respond in love to another whose way of life one honestly believes to contain evil? Other issues may be a little further down the road: do the coming biological engineering and neurotechnological techniques mean enhanced human freedom, or do they only invite totalitarian control of whatever is left of the individual? It seems clear that the world is now making the transition to new kinds of thinking that spell a new stage in evolution, and before long the remaining moral and ethical issues will be dealt with in fresh ways.

This is how I see the coming sixth root race: a people of pluralism, individuality, new ways of image-based reading and thinking, leading up to an amalgamation of all those relatively enlightened individual humans into what is really a transhuman stage, the neuro technological linkage of all minds into a grand array of consciousness. That united supermind will be the seventh rootrace, the last which will have need at all for this physical world and which we hope will live on a spiritual level appropriate to its tremendous leap into cosmic consciousness.

What signs are pointing to that unimaginable future, and what is the shape of that which comes? First let us consider future scenarios from the scientific sphere. The distinguished physicist and master of scientific speculation Freeman Dyson has suggested, in Imagined Worlds, an awesome list of awaiting technological revolutions. From our point of view, these will be material concomitants and expressions of the changing consciousness and spirituality of the sixth root race. First, genetic engineering, already commenced but still ata very crude level, within two or three centuries will produce biological entities virtually on demand, including Jurassic Park animals, plus new and improved human bodies, to reflect the undogmatic plasticity of sixth-root-race consciousness.

One of the most dramatic prospects awaiting us in biological engineering will call for new thought patterns and new religious concepts. Sooner than we now think, it may be possible to reverse the aging process through cellular modification or transplants and so create immunity to most of the ailments from which we die. This would result in very long life spans of hundreds or even thousands of years, indeed perhaps virtual immortality.

One can only begin to conjecture what kind of effect this development would have on the world's religions, since they now exist in large part as guides for how to live within a very limited span of years and in the face of mortality, and include strong elements of hope and fear regarding the afterlife. Remove the specter of the man with the scythe more or less indefinitely and, if religion as we know it does not simply wither away, other features of faith than those centering around death will no doubt gain prominence, ones that some of us might consider healthier concerns: community, ethics, and the spiritual quality of life.

But even virtual immortality is as nothing compared to the prospects lurking within the emerging science of neurotechnology. The premier art of that field, splicing biological beings with computerized intelligence (miniaturized and flexible far beyond present capability), will then be ready to equip the new man and woman with remarkable combinations of human mind and artificial intelligence. Dyson among others has suggested that before long we may be able to download data and ideas directly from computers to our brains, and from brains to databases. Perhaps the computers themselves would be organic and, as it were, grafted-on brain-enhancing body parts.

Then as the third radical development after virtual immortality and neuro-computer linkages, it will be possible to transmit data by what Dyson calls radio telepathy, "brain waves" or neuron charges translated by a small implanted sender into radio waves that could be picked up by a computer receiver or by another brain. Radio telepathy will allow all these enhanced minds to be directly linked like computer arrays on the level of memory, thought, and will. This vast human computer array could be moving into place by the end of the next millennium, in a thousand years or less.

Radio telepathy could be achieved either through tiny transmitters placed in the brain or through the genetic engineering of cerebral biology to electrify, computerize, and "radioize" the human brain, on the model of the electric organs that already exist in electric eels and electric catfish. It would then permit the direct communication of signals and information from one brain to another, and no doubt also from associated computerized databases. Books, videos, spoken language, and other primitive means of transmitting information through verbal symbols encoded on paper or film or in combinations of sound waves, and received by means of the senses, will then be as outdated as those bards who, before the invention of writing, had to commit vast amounts of tribal lore to memory.

Radio telepathy, whether from data bases to brain or from brain to brain, would certainly be as revolutionary an advance in communication, and even in the human meaning of knowledge, as was the invention of writing, which those powerful new information engines will displace. It would deliver to us a world as different from the age of literacy as that age was from the preliterate stone-age world that went before. At best, reading, writing, and speaking would now be used only for historical, recreational, or aesthetic purposes. Another thought: it might also be possible by this means, Dyson suggests, to connect with the minds of other species and for the first time to know directly the subjective world of a cat, a dog, an eagle, or a dolphin.

From here only a small step will carry us to the most revolutionary development of all, one that we might wish to term the seventh root race. The next stage,though dramatic and irreversible, would be comparatively easy after radio telepathy, and probably would not be long resisted, though it would mean nothing less than changing human beings as we know ourselves into something that is not merely another species, or another genera, but virtually a whole new order of life.

For a thousand years from now or perhaps sooner, undoubtedly it will be possible to unite those radio telepathically implanted brains into great arrays of tens,hundreds, even thousands of units capable of problem-solving and achievement not to mention pleasure on an unimaginable scale. But within a collective like this,one imagines the individual, and with it individual consciousness, fading and failing in the face of the vastly larger collective mind's power.

One can project vast disquietude by humans in the immediate face of this prospect, but it would not be resisted long. The newest and most powerful technology never is, and the competitive edge going to those accessing large-array brains would make this neurological leap imperative for the rest. Nonetheless this awesome change in human nature would clearly overturn all existing institutions. The profoundest challenge of this eventuality, as in the case of biological individual immortality, would be to religion, whatever form it has taken a millennium from now. For religion as we know it depends fundamentally on the idea of the responsible individual self, and the self would now be shown to be outdated, a puny instrument in the eyes of something immensely greater.

Death would indeed no longer have its sting nor the grave its victory, at least not to the collective consciousness, which will increasingly simply be the consciousness of each entity within its hold. The whole would undoubtedly soon,and irreversibly, supplant individual human consciousness like a far more powerful radio signal drowning out lesser stations. Its mental energies, its brilliance of intellect, its determined will and purpose, its breadth of information and awareness, its inconceivable joys and raptures, will dwarf anything we, or rather our distant progeny, could possibly sustain on our own, and we, or they, would become it. So it is that the entire part of religion that deals with individual preparation for death, the trauma of dying, final judgment, and immortality or resurrection will retain little meaning.

And what is the spiritual status of a radio telepathically-linked collective mind? Is it itself a person in the religious sense, a soul, capable of sin and salvation, or of karma and enlightenment the great idea of axial-age, fifth-root-race religion? Or is the new human megabrain a demonic entity that has swallowed up the greatest of God's creations, the individual soul? Or can souls somehow still be found within it? At our present level of consciousness, these questions are simply unanswerable.

Nor is that all. For the collective, for all intents and purposes, would be immortal, at least until the collapse and death of this particular universe eighty billion years hence and by then the array, perhaps by now united into one vast universal consciousness of billions of parts, could be a mind invincible enough to prevail even against that ultimate termination. Life and death will be as insignificant to the collective as the individual. Any one unit within it, upon failing, would easily be replaced by another, no doubt quickly constructed for the purpose by biological engineering.

It can be argued, of course, and probably will be at the time, that religion has other foci than the separate individual, indeed that it insists the separate individual is not the ultimate focus of meaning. In Christianity, individuals are supposed to be parts of the body of Christ, like cells or organs in a physical body, almost like a spiritual anticipation of the collective. The Hindu social order, with its castes and roles, is based on an organic more than an individualistic model of society. Priests and preachers will endeavor to spiritualize the collective in some such manner as this. Yet to see the spiritual ideal become everyday physical and biological reality will be no small challenge to conventional religion. How can Theosophy respond to this and the other challenges of the occult future?

We have a couple of hints about Theosophy and this "science fiction" future in a classic Theosophical text. The Mahatma Letters to A. P. Sinnett (letter 66 in the chronological edition, 14 in the third edition, part 7b) tell us: "The principle of acceleration and retardation applies itself in such a way, as to .. . leave but a single superior one [stock] to make the last ring." As the text makes clear, this final superior entity is also the culmination of the seventh root race. And (letter 93B, 23B): "The last seventh race will have its Buddha as every one of the predecessors had; but its adepts will be far higher than any of the present race, for among them will abide the future Planetary, the Dhyan Chohan" or meditation buddha, whose contemplative aura can embrace a planet and who will instruct the next still higher level of development that will pass beyond our world altogether.

One can easily imagine that, at this level, those other adepts and that superior stock would harmoniously and without coercion be embraced within the Dhyan Chohan's single incomparable mind. These no doubt partial and tentative glimpses into the distant spiritual future, couched in traditional language and concepts,hint at one important idea: that the separate individual human self as we now know it is far from the final stage of spiritual evolution. At higher and higher levels, both selection and increasing harmony in freedom will move us together toward a single transcendent consciousness capable of almost unimaginable wisdom, power, and bliss. In that buddhic mind, consciousness and all experience will be united and fulfilled in a way that is now only potential and barely felt by most.

If these developments include the use of technological, or neuro technological, innovations as well as purely "spiritual" means of evolution, that should not surprise us nor discredit the advance. Theosophy has never imposed a rigid dualism between the sprit and the flesh, or the spiritual and the technological,but rather accepts, with the Mahatmas of the Letters, that manifest reality isin fact all material as well as spiritual. Matter, however, is capable of higher and subtler refinements than most of us can conceive and is susceptible to scientific and technological as well as subjective means of evolution.

Matter and spirit express each other, and to set them in opposition is a false dualism. We are material and are meant to use matter as we continue our evolution, letting its deep interplay with consciousness direct us toward the spiritual values of oneness and love. But we are also creatures of free will, and so able to abuse anything. The sixth-root-race values of tolerance and the seventh of oneness of consciousness could of course lead to subtle kinds of evil magic. But they need not.

From the point of view of the tremendous overall Theosophical model of spiritual evolution, we can be optimistic about the future. We can and must believe that the new spiritual energies which are released into the world with each upward movement, and which are being powerfully released now despite often discouraging appearances, have the power to overcome the negatives and bring us closer to the Halls of Light. Ultimately, they will. If we work with them with selflessness and wisdom, they will raise us quickly and easily. If not, the job will take longer and will be much harder.

For us as Theosophists, then, I offer two reflections. First, we must not think that we are outdated or irrelevant in this rapidly changing world, as I am sure we are sometimes tempted to think. I am convinced that the deepest relevance of the Theosophical message is only beginning to be apparent, that we are among those who really know what is going on, both historically and spiritually, and we are desperately needed to put it in the largest possible perspective.

Second, the task does not call for arrogance, but more love and service, our great ideal virtues, with a bit of upaya, skill-in-means, thrown in. As new languages, new thoughts, new worlds arrive, we must be there at the cutting edge of change, expressing Theosophy in fresh media, showing that any emergent era is ours in the sense that we have equipment for understanding it and shaping it to the right ends of human freedom and brotherhood, rather than giving over to those dark forces that would make new developments only novel means of enslavement.

How this is done will be up to the now-young generation of Theosophists. But the next stage of human evolution may not wait much longer than that before commencing radically to remake our human world. We must all be, in the familiar title from the Adyar Theosophist, "on the watchtower."


Robert Ellwood, a noted authority in the history of religion, is the author of many works of scholarship, including Alternative Altars: Unconventional and Eastern Spirituality in America (University of Chicago Press) and The Politics of Myth: A Study of C. G. Jung, Mircea Eliade, and Joseph Campbell (StateUniversity of New York Press). He is also the author of several Quest Books: The Cross and the Grail: Esoteric Christianity for the 21st Century, Finding the Quiet Mind, The Pilgrim Self, and Theosophy. He has long had a love of science fiction and speculative science, as well as amateur astronomy.


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