Quest Magazine

By Robert Trabold 

Originally printed in the SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER 2006 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Trabold, Robert. "Soundings of the Presence of God: My Contemplative Path." Quest  94.5 (SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER 2006):180-184.

Reflecting on the years I have spent working and being active in the world, I have noticed a contemplative dimension to my life. Something has called me and I have felt its presence in various ways. I first became aware of the presence as a young man studying at the university. Between my busy schedule of classes and laboratory experiments, I was drawn to search out places in the different university chapels and sit in the quiet. I experienced the presence of God and from that time on, I looked for places of quiet where I could reacquaint myself with His presence. I was blessed with the Prayer of Quiet from my early years and this has never left me.

This resting in the quiet and silence grew in tandem with another aspect of my life. For the last fifty years, I have spent most of my vacations hiking in the woods and mountains, climbing the surrounding peaks to admire the beautiful views. Nature has always been a source of wonder to me. However, as I examine and reflect on this experience more closely, I realize why I have been drawn to this type of vacation. While walking through the forest or climbing the peaks, the beauty of the woods and the silence of nature provides me an opportunity where I can encounter that other presence and have an epiphany from God.

Living on the East Coast of the United States, I often hike in the Adirondack State Park of upstate New York. The park lies close to the Canadian border and the St. Lawrence Valley. The mountains and lakes of the Adirondacks have their own type of beauty, accentuated with various kinds of pine and aspen trees that make up the woods. There are times when the mountains are not crowded with hikers so that there is silence as I walk through the forest and climb the peaks. In the quiet of the forest, as the sun streams through the branches and leaves, I feel the presence of God among these beautiful things and feel His presence accompany me on the journey to the peak. Interestingly, though the forest is still and quiet, it is never empty. It is always filled with this presence.

When I walk alone, I deliberately do not talk with other people so my body and person can be attuned to the presence of God. Of course, the strenuous ascent and the sweat and labor that I must exert to reach the peak are their own distractions, but they do not disrupt the serenity of the silence of the forest or the quiet within myself.

Reaching the peak, the exhilaration of the view and experience of the winds cooling my overheated and sweaty body make me forget all the pain endured and effort made to get to the top. The time on the peak allows me to have lunch, which gives my body the strength for the long walk down. On peaks that are not so popular with hikers, there are quiet spots where I can look at the lovely view of the mountains, lakes, and valleys in the distance, and appreciate the vast spaces and heights of the mountains. I am often greeted by the sharp winds that blow in from these spaces, and at times, have the privilege of watching the hawks glide on the air currents that come up over the peaks. Depending on the day, one can watch the play of the sun and clouds as they cast shadows and sunlight over the peaks and the forest. I experience a sense of silence and quiet which pervades the grandeur of nature and the view in front of me and I feel God's presence. I am drawn to open the bible and read certain verses appropriate for the occasion:

You, the heavens, praise the Lord!

And you, sun and moon, praise the Lord!

And you, night and day, praise the Lord!

And you, mountains and hills, praise the Lord!(Daniel 3)

Sing to the Lord a new song, for He has done wonderful things.

(Psalm 97)

In the history of religions, men and women have been drawn to the wilderness, such as the forest and desert, to encounter God in solitude. John the Baptist, Jesus, and the early Christian monks are prominent examples in the Judeo-Christian history. I am grateful that from where I live in New York; the Adirondack Mountains are close by, so I am able to encounter God in the silence and beauty of nature.

Since I speak French, I take the occasion to visit Montreal and the St. Lawrence River valley. Beyond the enjoyment of experiencing the French speaking world, I have found my visits to the St. Lawrence River valley to be an intense spiritual experience. The river is large and its valley takes advantage of the climate, which is milder than other parts of Canada, to grow grain, vegetables, and fruit on the many farms. The river has a wonderful blue color as it reflects the north country's intensely blue sky, and its size and depth are a host to ocean going vessels on their way to and from the St. Lawrence River canal. Over the centuries, the French-Canadians have built many churches on the shores of the river that add to the beauty and spirituality of the valley; many pilgrims, even from the United States, visit these churches asking God and the Virgin Mary for assistance with the many problems of their lives.

At different times of the day, I assisted at the office of hours, sung seven times a day by the monks. The chanting exuded a sense of silence, quiet, and the praise of God. The small brochure of the monastery explains that the monks are watchers in the night waiting for God and that they encounter God through a life of silence and manual labor. Assisting at the chanting of the office allowed me to experience this silence and darkness where I could meet the Other.

My few days of hiking through the farmland around Oka and attending the chants of the monks were a two-pronged experience. The chanting of the office stimulated my experience of God in the lovely countryside, and the quiet beauty of nature helped me to appreciate the silence and peace that surrounded the chant.

The important element for me was the silence, because it led me deeper into the mystery of God and the Godhead. Meister Eckhart writes that we have to go beyond the Trinity to reach the Godhead and that in the face of the latter's nothingness, unknowability, and emptiness we sit in silence and in that silence, the Godhead manifests itself to us.

Marie-Madeleine Davy, a French writer on spirituality, in her book, Les chemins de la profondeur, puts it well:

Most deeply, that which interests me, grasps me and seduces me, it is the Godhead of whom we can say nothing. There is a total, complete, rigorous and absolute silence; in fact, one discovers, one understands, one penetrates...There is not the possibility of words; this is lived in the intensity of a secret, in the intensity of life and perhaps of death. (my translation, 187)

Another dimension to my contemplative path occurred in my middle-aged years when I encountered suffering and conflict. Many problems and trials suddenly burst into my life and I was forced to make changes in my work and lifestyle. There were times when I felt that God had abandoned me and I did not know where to turn. During these years of suffering, I slowly noticed a presence and a silence deep within me. I had never experienced a presence at the core of my being as I did then. I slowly realized that this presence was part of my faith and that despite all the problems, I had always held on to my faith. God was present at my center and a source of hope that helped me to hang on, in spite of it all.

At the end of my years of suffering and problems, I had two experiences that helped me come to grips with these trials. First, for about six months, I had a continual sense of the presence of God and that permeated through my whole person and body. At first, I did not know what I was feeling, but later I realized that I was experiencing God in a very explicit way. In all my activities and even when I was working, I could feel Him touching me and being within me. Contemplation and meditation were easy and full of consolation and I had no distractions; I just had to sit in God's presence and enjoy it. I remember when the continual presence of God seemed to diminish. It took me a while to come down from the glow that went away gradually. I believe that God gave me this experience of His presence in order to build me up after so many difficulties in my life. His presence gave me hope and consolation after going through so much.

The second experience I had, brought closure to my years of suffering, if such a thing is possible. In 2002, I made a silent pilgrimage to Spain to visit the graves of John of the Cross in Segovia and Teresa of Avila in Alba de Tormes. Teresa of Avila while fell ill while traveling and died in a small farming town south of Salamanca. I had visited the chapel where she is buried in 1982 for the first time and decided to return there in 2002. When I arrived at the chapel and visited her burial place, I asked her if she remembered me from twenty years ago. I mentioned to her that since 1982 many things had happened to me including much suffering. Immediately her famous poem "Solo Dios basta" ("Only God matters") came to mind, and I just happened to have it with me:

(my translation)

For the few days that I was in the town, I remained in silence and would occasionally read the poem again. I believe that Teresa and her poem led me into God's presence, healing the wounds of my suffering. Since then, I often go back to the poem to strengthen my confidence in God, in spite of all the ups and down of my pilgrimage on earth.

The third movement of my contemplative life occurred recently when I began to lose interest in the usual human activities of work, art, and so on, and instead found myself withdrawing more into silence and solitude where I can touch God's presence. This tendency has become very strong and I feel it as a cultural shock. I have been a very busy person in the world with my education, work, and other activities; I have always felt the need to produce. Now on the initiative of someone else, I am leaving these things and am called to sit in silence and solitude, in a presence full of mystery and transcendence. I am now semi-retired so I can make space for this. There is a phrase in German describing this experience, "Gotteswirken ist ein wirken der stille und der nacht" ("God's works are works of silence and the night.") All my life I have taken the initiative to keep ahead in my work and activities and now someone else is taking the initiative and revealing Himself to me. With time, this cultural shock may abate, but we cannot change our human nature or history, so this tension may always be with me. John of the Cross, in his commentary on the dark night, describes this experience saying that when in contemplative prayer, God weans us away from the things and activities of the world and attach us to Himself. I am led to sit in the quiet of His presence and find peace there. In my life, I am losing something but gaining something else, and I feel the energy of this change.

In this growing tendency to seek silence and solitude, I feel fortunate that I live close to the Atlantic Ocean and many state parks on the south shore of Long Island. In my hours of solitude and silence, God is calling me to a relationship of love with Him. It is a very deep one because God is present at the core of my person and there is no one closer to me than He is. I constantly reread the two poems of John of the Cross "The Dark Night" and "The Living Flame of Love" where he beautifully describes this love relationship. In the last line of the latter poem, John says that God woos us to love Him and that is why he calls us into silence and solitude. In my frequent walks on the seashore, I am called to let God do this and grow in this love relationship.

Here again, I feel a tension in the contemplative experience. This experience of God is a mysterious one because He is transcendent and always beyond me. God will always be the Other and that is why it will always be at night as John of Cross so well describes in his poem "The Dark Night." I have to live with the tension that no one is closer to me than God, but that God is also out of my grasp. In the same vein, William Johnston writes in the book The Cloud of Unknowing and the Book of Privy Counseling that we cannot know God with our intellect but can have a relationship with Him through love. Our senses and intellect have to be emptied of created things so that God can pour His light into them. "It is impossible to see and possess God fully in this life, but with his grace and in his own time, it is possible to taste something of him as he is in himself" (60-61).

In many of the contemplative traditions, writers mention that we are called to a spiritual marriage and union with God. The imagery of a human marriage is used to help us see where God is leading us. In the Christian tradition, there are two persons who had this spiritual and interior marriage with God. On November 18, 1572, in the chapel of the Convent of the Incarnation in Avila, Spain, Teresa of Avila experienced her interior marriage with God in the presence of John of the Cross. In her book, The Interior Castle, she mentions that in a spiritual marriage, God comes and makes a special place in the center of the person where He alone dwells (261).

A French woman named Barbe Avrillot, who later became known as Mary of the Incarnation (1599-1672), on three occasions experienced a spiritual marriage with the Trinity and Jesus. On Pentecost 1625, she had an interior marriage with the Trinity. On Pentecost 1627, she experienced a spiritual marriage with Jesus, and on March 17, 1631 she had an ecstatic vision of the Trinity and a mystical marriage with them. A few years later, she took the name "Mary of the Incarnation" in honor of her husband, Jesus the Incarnation. In her letters and writings, she writes beautifully of the depth and intimacy of her union with God, the Trinity, and Jesus. She experienced the continual presence of God at the core of her person. She refers to God being present at her center as a love nest, where God and she meet. Through this union with God, she received the gift of peace which remained with her even during trials and difficulties, and she treasured it throughout her life.

The contemplative path of my life is a pilgrimage of walking with someone or rather I am being drawn by someone who is leading me on. Someone has taken the initiative to have me enter into His presence. The lives of Teresa of Avila and Mary of the Incarnation show me that our contemplative path should lead to an interior marriage with God. John of the Cross advises that we have to be silent and listen. A chance visit to el Convento de Santo Domingo, a restored monastery in Oaxaca, Mexico, left me touched by God, although I did not recognize it until I had retuned home to New York. When meditating on the pictures of the monastery, alone and silent, I was once again ushered into the presence of God. We are not in control so we have to be open and vigilant in silence. John of the Cross in his poem "The Spiritual Canticle" points to where God will lead us in our contemplative path:

References

Davy, Marie-Madeleine. Les chemins de la profondeur. Gordes, France: Editions Questions de, 1999. 

Johnston, William. The Cloud of Unknowing and the Book of Privy Counseling. New York: Doubleday, 1996. 

Marie de l'Incarnation. L'experience de Dieu avec Marie de l'Incarnation. Edited by Guy-Marie Oury. Paris, France: Editions Fides, 1999. 

St. John of the Cross. The Poems of St. John of the Cross. Translated by Ken Krabbenhoft. New York: Harcourt Brace & Co., 1999.  

Theresa of Avila, Saint. The Interior Castle. Translated by Mirabai Starr. New York: Riverside Books, 2003.

By David Trice 

Originally printed in the SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER 2006 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Trice, David. "Silence is Golden." Quest  94.5 (SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER 2006):192-193. 

And he called the multitude, and said unto them, Hear, and understand: Not that which goeth into the mouth defileth a man; but that which cometh out of the mouth, this defileth a man.

—Matthew 15:10

The noises of machines, automobiles, construction sites, aircraft engines, cell phones, radios, computers, televisions, and so on, are inescapable aspects of modern life and the outer world. But this cacophony of roaring, grating, droning, and piercing sounds takes a toll on us. It affects our personalities and our ability to access the inner planes, making it difficult for us to contact and align with the soul and the One life.

Noise pollution is an obstacle on our path. Like the illusions and desires that mislead us, it blocks us from that sacred place of silence and keeps our impressionable minds identified with what we see and hear in the outer world. How often does a song you heard, a game you played, or a visual image you have seen keep repeating itself over and over again in your mind's eye? As H. P. Blavatsky (HPB) wrote in The Voice of the Silence, "The Mind is the great Slayer of the Real."

There are very good reasons for cultivating the silence in our lives. In volume one of The Secret Doctrine, HPB eludes to the power of silence to conserve energy:

We call it the One manifested life—itself a reflection of the Absolute . . .
The latter must never be mentioned in words or speech LEST IT SHOULD TAKE AWAY SOME OF OUR SPIRITUAL ENERGIES THAT ASPIRE towards ITS state, gravitating ever onward unto IT spiritually, as the whole physical universe gravitates towards ITS manifested centre—cosmically." (290)

This truth should be one of the first that all of us learn. Initially, it is difficult to keep silent about what you learn intuitively, as well as academically. This is especially true when you are full of enthusiasm and love for Theosophy, and metaphysical things in general.

Read carefully, the admonition "lest it should take away" should convey great meaning. Not heeding this warning also diminishes the energy to fuel the inspiration and ideas you need for what you want brought to fruition. Remaining silent conserves energy. We should try to remember this simple, but profound truth when we begin speaking about our spiritual experiences.

Another reason for cultivating silence has to do with the sacredness of speech. Why is speech sacred? Remember, as distorted as the biblical passage is, maybe we are all "made in the image of God." Although, as HBP in The Secret Doctrine points out, "An Occultist would have put it otherwise. He would say that man was indeed made in the image of a type projected by his progenitor, the creating Angel-Force, or Dhyan Chohan" (II:728).

Since we are made in the image of God, speech is important because we are spiritual as well as human beings. We are told that God spoke when the heavens and earth were created. And, having been made in the pine image, we too have been given the gift of speech and to speak wisely.

In volume one of The Secret Doctrine, HPB also states that "the spoken word has a potency unknown to, unsuspected and disbelieved in, by the modern 'sages.' Because sound and rhythm are closely related to the four Elements of the Ancients; and because such or another vibration in the air is sure to awaken corresponding powers, union with which produces good or bad results, as the case may be" (307).

The need for secrecy and silence regarding occult knowledge is an extension of the Law of Silence, as HPB observes in her Collected Writings:

The false rendering of a number of parables and sayings of Jesus is not to be wondered at in the least. From Orpheus, the first initiated Adept of whom history catches a glimpse in the mists of the pre-Christian era, down through Pythagoras, Confucius, Buddha, Jesus, Apollonius of Tyana, to Ammonius Saccas, no Teacher or Initiate has ever committed anything to writing for public use. Each and all of them have invariably recommended silence and secrecy on certain facts and deeds; from Confucius, who refused to explain publicly and satisfactorily what he meant by his "Great Extreme," or to give the key to the divination by "straws" down to Jesus, who charged his disciples to tell no man that he was Christ . . .The Apostles had to preserve silence, so that the left hand should not know what the right hand did; in plainer words, that the dangerous proficients in the Left Hand Science—the terrible enemies of the Right Hand Adepts, especially before their supreme Initiation—should not profit by the publicity so as to harm both the healer and the patient. (14:34)

Indeed, there are dangers in speaking precious truths that come from the plane of the soul. Someday, all of us will be teachers on the inner planes, and we will have to learn an entirely new kind of silence, it is called the Silence of the Ashram. Pythagoras understood this principle of silence very well as Arthur Fairbanks shows in his book The First Philosophers of Greece. Pythagoras instituted it at his school in Crotona, as the ancient texts indicate:

And it was the custom when one became a disciple for him to burn his property and to leave his money under a seal with Pythagoras, and he remained in silence sometimes three years, sometimes five years, and studied. (Fairbanks 154)

Again, The Secret Doctrine provides some insight into the reason why Pythagoras required silence:

When our Soul [mind] creates or evokes a thought, the representative sign of that thought is self-engraved upon the astral fluid, which is the receptacle and, so to say, the mirror of all the manifestations of being.

The sign expresses the thing: the thing is the [hidden or occult] virtue of the sign.

To pronounce a word is to evoke a thought, and make it present: the magnetic potency of the human speech is the commencement of every manifestation in the Occult World. To utter a Name is not only to define a Being [an Entity], but to place it under and condemn it through the emission of the Word [Verbum] to the influence of one or more Occult potencies. Things are, for every one of us, that which it [the Word] makes them while naming them. The Word [Verbum] or the speech of every man is, quite unconsciously to himself, a BLESSING or a CURSE; this is why our present ignorance about the properties or attributes of the IDEA as well as about the attributes and properties of MATTER, is often fatal to us. (I:93)

In summary, what more can be said about silence?

The modern disciple must learn to cultivate inner silence amidst the cacophony of the outer world. We must learn to listen to the voice of the silence.

We must also learn to guard ourselves in what we speak, i.e. discipline ourselves not to speak what should be secret.

When we do speak, we should make certain that harmlessness imbues the spoken word.

David Trice is a retired satellite operations engineer, a theosophist and a member of the Theosophical Society. He resides in Chino Valley Arizona.  

References 

Blavatsky, Helena P.The Collected Writings of H.P. Blavatsky,,vol. 14. Edited by Boris de Zirkoff and Dara Eklund. Wheaton, IL: The Theosophical Publishing House, 1985. 

The Secret Doctrine, vols I and II. Wheaton, IL: The Theosophical Publishing House, (Quest Edition) 1993.  

The Voice of the Silence. Wheaton, IL: The Theosophical Publishing House, 1991. Fairbanks, Arthur. The First Philosophers of Greece. Kegan Paul, Trench, Trubner & Co., 1898. The Holy Bible

By John Algeo

Originally printed in the SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER 2007 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Algeo, John."Lift High the Torch." Quest  95.5 (SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER 2007):

Previously, we considered the central theme of H. P. Blavatsky's three Messages to America of 1888, 1889, and 1891. That theme was Theosophy's"most holy and most important mission—namely, to unite firmly a body of men of all nations in brotherly love and bent on a pure altruistic work, not on a labor with selfish motives." We discussed the fact that the mission in question is not that of the Theosophical Society, but of Theosophy, and that Theosophy is enshrined in the heart and mind of every human being, for it is the Divine Wisdom that pervades the cosmos. It is the"logos," the articulation of the reason or inner thought that orders all things and is inherent in all things.

We live in a world that we experience as insecure, uncertain, painful, fragmented, violent, inimical, or, as Alfred Lord Tennyson said in his great elegy In Memoriam,"red in tooth and claw." But that world of our experience is not the only world. Our world of experience is a fact, but, as Krishnamurti said of reincarnation, it is not true. Facts are things we make. The word"fact" comes from the Latin verb facere"to do or to make," and so facts are what we have done or made. They are our actions and the karmic consequences of those actions.

The word"true," on the other hand, comes from the same root as the word"tree.""True" is the Bodhi tree of enlightenment; it is Igdrasill, the world ash tree of Norse mythology; it is the Ashwattha tree of the Bhagavad Gita; it is the Etz Chaim or Tree of Life of the Kabbalah. The word"true" is also related to the Sanskrit words daru, meaning"wood," and daruna, meaning"solid, firm, steadfast," as well as to the Latin-derived word durable, and to the Celtic druids, those priests of the trees."True," then, is what is secure, certain, joyous, whole, peaceful, and benevolent. It is that of which Tennyson also speaks in In Memoriam, when he invokes the bells that peel at the end of an old year and the beginning of a new one:

 

Ring out the old, ring in the new,

Ring happy bells, across the snow;

The year is going, let him go:

Ring out the false, ring in the true.

 

The distinction between what is factual, that is, what is produced by our actions, and what is true, that is, what is unchanging and basic to Being—that distinction brings us to another line from HPB's Messages to America. In her second message of 1889, she writes,"There, then, is part of your work: to lift high the torch of the liberty of the Soul of Truth that all may see it and benefit by its light."

First, consider the allusion when HPB says,"lift high the torch of the liberty of the Soul of Truth that all may see it and benefit by its light." Those words clearly allude to the Statue of Liberty. And the allusion was a topical one in 1889, when she wrote this message, because the statue had been dedicated only three years earlier in 1886, and thus was still much in the consciousness of Americans. Moreover, the statue was originally called"Liberty Enlightening the World," and so HPB's phrase"benefit by its light" clearly echoes that name.

Moreover, the Statue of Liberty is an ideal symbol for what HPB is talking about in her Messages to America. The Statue is so familiar to us as to seem trite, but it is a parable because it was the product of the joint effort of people in France and America. The Statue was proposed by the French sculptor Frederic Auguste Bartholdi, and its underlying framework was designed by Alexandre Gustave Eiffel, the creator of the Eiffel Tower in Paris. The Statue's pedestal was constructed on an island in New York harbor, and the Statue itself was assembled on that base by Americans, who also raised money to finance the work.

Now, France and America have a long history of competition and armed conflict on the North American continent, as well as of cooperation to serve their separate self-interests, notably during the Revolutionary War in opposition to Great Britain. But the Statue of Liberty was something altogether different. It was a symbol of peaceful cooperation in the interest of such ideals as the freedom and welfare of all humanity, brotherhood, openness, and that love which is"perfect justice to others as to oneself." Thus the Statue of Liberty embodies the essence of HPB's message, by bringing together two nations of rather different characters in a celebration of high ideals.

But what does HPB mean by the word"there" in"There, then is part of your work"? To answer that question, we must consider a somewhat larger context of this text. Here is the whole paragraph in which it occurs and the following sentence:

But you in America. Your Karma as a nation has brought Theosophy home to you. The life of the Soul, the psychic side of nature, is open to many of you. The life of altruism is not so much a high ideal as a matter of practice. Naturally, then, Theosophy finds a home in many hearts and minds, and strikes a resounding harmony as soon as it reaches the ears of those who are ready to listen. There, then, is part of your work: to lift high the torch of the liberty of the Soul of Truth that all may see it and benefit by its light.

Therefore it is that the Ethics of Theosophy are even more necessary to mankind than the scientific aspects of the psychic facts of nature and man.

The Americans of HPB's day were interested in psychic matters; modern Spiritualism began in America with the Fox sisters in 1848. And Americans have maintained a high degree of interest in the psychic ever since, as in the New Age movement, which was an international phenomenon during the last half of the twentieth century, but achieved prominence in America.

Moreover, since Colonial days Americans had, of necessity, practiced community altruism, such as barn raisings and quilting bees, and later such covert activity as the Underground Railroad to assist fugitive slaves. Even today, a naïve American impulse to be"helpful" has been exploited to elicit popular support for what is also regarded as hubristic, incompetent, and ignorant foreign interference. But these characteristics of a fascination with the psychic and the impulse to be helpful are what HPB identified as the karma that"brought Theosophy home to" this nation.

It is clearly no accident that the Theosophical Society was founded in America, nor that its international headquarters were established in India. America and India: the archetypal West and East, the embodiment of the new and the old. As Walt Whitman says in his ecstatic and prophetic poem"Passage to India":

 

Passage to India!

Lo, soul! seest thou not God's purpose from the first?

The earth to be spann'd, connected by network,

The people to become brothers and sisters,

The races, neighbors, to marry and be given in marriage,

The oceans to be cross'd, the distant brought near,

The lands to be welded together.

 

       . . . . . . .

Passage to more than India!

        . . . . . . .

 

O my brave soul!

O farther, farther sail!

O daring joy, but safe! Are they not all the seas of God?

O farther, farther, farther sail!

 

Whitman wrote this poem in 1870, just a year after the opening of the Suez Canal in 1869. That event became symbolic of the connection between West and East; and for Whitman, in particular, the Suez Canal was symbolic of the connection between America and India, which are on opposite sides of the globe and symbolically represent cultural and spiritual opposites. The connection of America with India therefore represents the joining of human cultures into a harmonious, peaceful union of"nations in brotherly love," which is the mission of Theosophy. In particular, HPB pointed out that the Theosophical Society was meant to be a bridge between the East and the West. She wrote in her last message to America that:

. . . it is one of the tasks of the T.S. to draw together the East and the West, so that each may supply the qualities lacking in the other, and develop more fraternal feelings among Nations so various. (1891)

The Masters sent HPB to America to meet Colonel Olcott and to start the Society there, in New York. Once the Society had been thus founded, the Masters sent Blavatsky and Olcott to India, where they first settled and established the Indian branch of the Society in Bombay (now called Mumbai). New York and Bombay/Mumbai are both highly symbolical cities, quintessentially representing, respectively, Western and Eastern cultures. The connection of those two cities with Theosophy and the Society can be no accident. The symbolic value of those two cities is part of the reason why they have both been targeted by fanatical terrorists for acts of inhumane destruction: New York on September 11th, 2001, and Mumbai on July 11, 2006. Love, which unites, is the mission of Theosophy; hate, which divides, is the mission of terrorism. The symbolic parallel of New York and Bombay/Mumbai as both centers of Theosophical love and the objects of terrorist hate could not be clearer.

West and East are parallel as poles of human culture. New York and Bombay/Mumbai are parallel as the objects of both loving union and hateful destruction. That parallelism raises the question of how we can achieve balance between those two cultural poles and how we can overcome hate and destruction in favor of love and union. HPB addresses those questions in her Messages to America. Our work is"to lift high the torch of the liberty of the Soul of Truth that all may see it and benefit by its light." The"torch of the liberty of the Soul of Truth" is Theosophy, whose light we are to"lift high" so that"all may see it and benefit by that light."

Theosophy is not a set of doctrines but a system of ethics. Ethics is concerned with what is good and bad in action—with what is important to do in life—so that the actions we do may not just contribute to the facts of insecurity, uncertainty, pain, fragmentation, violence, and opposition that make up the world of samsara,"this world" of duhkha. Ethics is concerned with the truth of security, certainty, joyousness, wholeness, peace, and benevolence, which are the world of nirvana, that world of being, awareness, and bliss. Awakening oneself and others from fitful dreams of illusion to the consciousness of what is true is what Theosophy is for.

The principles that guide that waking up or transformation are clearly laid out by HPB in her Messages to America. We will now consider some of those principles.

In the previous article, we observed that organizations, including governments, cannot effect transformation. The effectiveness of organizations depends crucially on the organizers who administer them. If the administration of an organization, such as a nation, is wise, it does not attempt to force its ideas on others, but confidently respects the working of the Divine Wisdom in the heart-mind of all people. If the administration is unwise, arrogant, and intransigent, it will attempt to impose its view of what is good on other people. And the result of that is, at best, failure and, at worst, disaster on an international scale.

We cannot make rules or pass laws that will open the human heart-mind to the Divine Wisdom. This truth is the basis of the Apostle Paul's insistence that salvation is a free gift of God's grace, rather than something earned by following the Law. We cannot tell others that they must be whole and holy, much less tell them how to achieve that end. We can only become whole and holy ourselves by opening our heart-minds to the Divine Wisdom seated within.

Society as a whole will be transformed, not by legislation, but by the inner conversion of the human beings who compose it. It is the"hundredth monkey" phenomenon: when the number of individuals who have been transformed reaches a critical level, humanity collectively will be transformed. You may remember the story about a group of scientists studying primate behavior who used to scatter sweet potatoes on the beach of a South Pacific island to attract the monkeys in order to observe them. But the potatoes scattered on the beach got covered with sand, which was not at all nice; nevertheless, the monkeys still came for them. Then one day, a particularly clever monkey began to take her potato into the sea to wash off the sand. In a few days, another monkey started to imitate her. And then another and yet another. When the hundredth monkey finally got the idea, something remarkable happened; all the monkeys began washing their sweet potatoes in the ocean water, and not only the monkeys on that island, but monkeys all over the archipelago. The behavior had somehow spread, without direct communication, through the ether.

The story of the hundredth monkey is not fact, but fiction. However, fiction can often express a very real truth. Christ's parables are fiction, and so are the Jataka Tales of Buddhism, but they are fiction that is profoundly true. The hundredth-monkey theme is found also in Arthur Clarke's science-fiction novel Childhood's End, which is about a genetic mutation in human children that spreads rapidly, transforming the species into a superhuman form. The concept is not limited to fiction. It is also the basis of Rupert Sheldrake's Hypothesis of Formative Creation through morphic resonance, by which the changed behavior of some individuals affects the ability of all individuals to make the same change. It is what happens when we follow the Master's advice quoted by HPB:"Feel yourselves the vehicles of the whole humanity, mankind as part of yourselves, and act accordingly."

What does such feeling of oneself as the vehicle of the whole humanity consist of? Let us consider five principles from HPB's messages. We might consider many others as well, but five is the number of humanity, so it is a fitting number to choose here. These five are Freedom, Rationality, Spirituality, Ethics, and Dedication.

1. Freedom. The freedom of the individual is an essential. HPB says the Theosophical Society is and must be"an organization which, while promoting feelings of fraternal sympathy, social unity, and solidarity, will leave ample room for individual freedom and exertion" (1888). And she goes on to urge:

But let no man set up a popery instead of Theosophy . . . . We are all fellow students, more or less advanced; but no one belonging to the Theosophical Society ought to count himself as more than, at best, a pupil-teacher—one who has no right to dogmatize. (1888)

And she continues:

Orthodoxy in Theosophy is a thing neither possible nor desirable. It is diversity of opinion, within certain limits, that keeps the Theosophical Society a living and a healthy body, its many other ugly features notwithstanding. Were it not, also, for the existence of a large amount of uncertainty in the minds of students of Theosophy, such healthy divergencies [sic] would be impossible, and the Society would degenerate into a sect, in which a narrow and stereotyped creed would take the place of the living and breathing spirit of Truth and an ever growing Knowledge. (1888)

These remarks by HPB are extremely important. No group is safe from the impulse to fundamentalism. Fundamentalism is characterized by rigidity, literalism, intolerance, militant aggressiveness, close-mindedness, and extremism. There are fundamentalists in every school of thought—religious and secular. In this country today, we are most aware of Christian and Islamic fundamentalism, but there is also fundamentalism in Judaism, Hinduism, Buddhism, and Shinto. There is fundamentalism in science, ecology, democracy, and . . . yes, even in Theosophy, or at least what claims to be Theosophy.

Some years ago, Martin Marty gave a talk here at Olcott. He is a Professor Emeritus at the University of Chicago, a columnist for the Christian Century magazine, a Lutheran pastor, Director of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences' Fundamentalism Project, and an authority on fundamentalisms of all kinds. His Olcott talk was on that subject, and in the course of it, he remarked that, of course, there could be no Theosophical fundamentalism. He was not being ironic, but a slight laugh ran through some of the audience who knew better.

Marty was right, that in true Theosophy there are Fundamentals, but there can be no fundamentalism. But among individuals who call themselves Theosophists, there certainly are fundamentalists who dismiss as"neo-Theosophy" all Theosophical views that do not conform to their notions and who indulge in the wildest forms of conspiracy theories. Like all fundamentalists, they pay attention only to what they agree with and ignore large-minded, open-hearted attitudes, such as those HPB expresses in her Messages to America.

2. Rationality. Another point HPB makes is that nothing in Theosophy can conflict with established fact or with reason. Indeed, in her first message she defines Theosophy in a particularly notable way. She says that"pure Theosophy [is] the philosophy of the rational explanation of things and not the tenets."

To be sure, there are Theosophical tenets, which are important teachings about the nature of the universe, human beings, and the purpose of things. Many of us treasure those tenets and try to model our lives on them. But they are not"pure Theosophy" because any effort to put Theosophy into words, to formulate it, to embody it in tenets (which are the beliefs that we hold) is bound to be impure. That is, tenets are always"mixed" up with our conditioning. When we put Theosophy into words, those words necessarily come out of our experience, our conditioning, and so distort the reality that is pure Theosophy.

When HPB says that Theosophy is"the philosophy of the rational explanation of things," she does not, I think, intend for us to understand"rational" as"conforming to human logic." Instead, I think she means"reflecting the divine Reason or Logos." It is not the reason of lower manas she is talking about, but the reason of buddhi, a direct insight into the nature of things. That direct buddhic insight is reflected in Theosophical tenets, but is not exhausted or limited by them, for the tenets are only approximations of the insights. Theosophical fundamentalists confuse the approximations with the reality approximated.

3. Spirituality versus Materialism and Phenomenalism. Part of the reason for the foundation of the Theosophical Society was to point out a via media between the tendency to materialism, which is exhibited by both commercialism and scientism, and the tendency to phenomenalism, which was exhibited by Spiritualism in her day and is still exhibited by various forms of New Age thought in our own day. Phenomenalism was itself a reaction against materialism, but, like many reactions, it went too far and thus violated a commitment to rational philosophy. So Theosophy supplies a middle way.

HPB talks about materialism or, as she calls it here,"animalism":

The tendency of modern civilization is a reaction towards animalism, towards a development of those qualities which conduce to the success in life of man as an animal in the struggle for animal existence. Theosophy seeks to develop the human nature in man in addition to the animal, and at the sacrifice of the superfluous animality which modern life and materialistic teachings have developed to a degree which is abnormal for the human being at this stage of his progress. . . . the essence of Theosophy is the perfect harmonizing of the divine with the human in man, the adjustment of his god-like qualities and aspirations, and their sway over the terrestrial or animal passions in him. (1888)

But HPB also, and repeatedly, cautions against a naïve and credulous embrace of the phenomenal as an end in itself:

The fainthearted have asked in all ages for signs and wonders, and when these failed to be granted, they refused to believe. Such are not those who will ever comprehend Theosophy pure and simple. . . the Society was not founded as a nursery for forcing a supply of Occultists . . . . It was intended to stem the current of materialism, and also that of spiritualistic phenomenalism. (1888)

When A. P. Sinnett wanted to abandon an emphasis on Brotherhood in favor of occult studies, Master K.H. replied to him in no uncertain terms (The Mahatmas Letters to A. P. Sinnett):

. . . you have ever discussed but to put down the idea of a universal Brotherhood, questioned its usefulness, and advised to remodel the T.S. on the principle of a college for the special study of occultism. This, my respected and esteemed friend and Brother—will never do!

HPB echoes the Master in her second Message to America:

The Theosophical Society has never been and never will be a school of promiscuous Theurgic rites. But there are dozens of small occult Societies which talk very glibly of Magic, Occultism, Rosicrucians, Adepts, etc. These profess much, even to giving the key to the Universe, but end by leading men to a blank wall instead of the"Door of the Mysteries." (1889)

Psychic powers are latent in all of us, and they may spontaneously be activated under certain circumstances, as well as be developed under competent direction. But such powers, if forced or uncontrolled, involve considerable dangers. In her last message, HPB warned about them:

Psychism, with all its allurements and all its dangers, is necessarily developing among you, and you must beware lest the Psychic outruns the Manasic and Spiritual development. Psychic capacities held perfectly under control, checked and directed by the Manasic principle, are valuable aids in development. But these capacities running riot, controlling instead of controlled, using instead of being used, lead the Student into the most dangerous delusions and the certainty of moral destruction. (1891)

4. Practical Ethics. There is no inherent virtue in psychism. There is an inherent virtue in right action, which is one of the steps of the Buddha's Noble Eightfold Path. So it is not surprising that HPB makes right action or ethics central in Theosophy:

 

Kindness, absence of every ill feeling or selfishness, charity, goodwill to all beings, and perfect justice to others as to oneself, are its chief features. He who teaches Theosophy preaches the gospel of goodwill. (1888)

. . . the Ethics of Theosophy are even more necessary to mankind than the scientific aspects of the psychic facts of nature and man. (1889)

 

Ethical action certainly involves helping others, but there are many ways of being helpful. Some of those ways are necessary but superficial because they address only the symptoms of humanity's ills. Symptoms must be treated, but if the cause of a disease is not removed, the treatment of symptoms alone is temporary and ineffective. HPB addressed that distinction in both The Key to Theosophy and in her first Message to America:

Theosophists are of necessity the friends of all movements in the world, whether intellectual or simply practical, for the amelioration of the condition of mankind. We are the friends of all those who fight against drunkenness, against cruelty to animals, against injustice to women, against corruption in society or in government, although we do not meddle in politics. We are the friends of those who exercise practical charity, who seek to lift a little of the tremendous weight of misery that is crushing down the poor. But, in our quality of Theosophists, we cannot engage in any one of these great works in particular. As individuals we may do so, but as Theosophists we have a larger, more important, and much more difficult work to do. People say that Theosophists should show what is in them, that "the tree is known by its fruit." Let them build dwellings for the poor, it is said, let them open "soup kitchens," etc., etc., and the world will believe that there is something in Theosophy. . . . The function of Theosophists is to open men's hearts and understandings to charity, justice, and generosity, attributes which belong specifically to the human kingdom and are natural to man when he has developed the qualities of a human being. Theosophy teaches the animal-man to be a human-man; and when people have learnt to think and feel as truly human beings should feel and think, they will act humanely, and works of charity, justice, and generosity will be done spontaneously by all. (1888)

5. A Life of Dedication. A recurring theme in HPB's messages is the importance of a life of dedication. That is a theme that both she and Colonel Olcott clearly manifested in their own persons. That theme is the coda in her final message and, indeed, sums up her own life. It is a theme that should echo in the heart of every Theosophist:

After all, every wish and thought I can utter are summed up in this one sentence, the never dormant wish of my heart, "Be Theosophists, Work for Theosophy!" Theosophy first, and Theosophy last; for its practical realization alone can save the Western World from that selfish and unbrotherly feeling that now divides race from race, one nation from the other, and from that hatred of class and social strifes . . .

. . . My own span of life may not be long, and if any of you have learned aught from my teachings, or have gained by my help a glimpse of the True Light, I ask you in return, to strengthen the cause by the triumph of which, that True Light, made still brighter and more glorious through your individual and collective efforts, will lighten the World . . .

May the blessings of the past and present great Teachers rest upon you. From myself accept collectively, the assurance of my true, never-wavering fraternal feelings, and the sincere heartfelt thanks for the work done by all the workers,

 

From their Servant to the last,

H. P. BLAVATSKY (1891)

 

Those words, penned in 1891, may well have been the last ever written by H. P. Blavatsky. As such, they should be engraved in the heart-mind of every Theosophist. They are words of inspiration and of her dedication to a life of Theosophy as"their servant to the last." Beyond those words, there is nothing more to be said.

By Theodore St. John

Originally printed in the SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER 2005 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: St. John, Theodore. "Timeless Epiphany." Quest  93.5 (SEPTERMBER-OCTOBER 2005):175-179

When we try to pin down the origin of the time-flux in our perceptions we encounter the same tangle of paradox and confusion that greets attempts to understand the self, and it is hard to resist the impression that the two problems are really closely related. I strongly believe that it is the 'whirling vortex of  self-reference' which produces what we call consciousness and self-awareness that drives the psychological time-flux. It is for this reason I maintain that the secret of mind will only be solved when we understand the secret of time.

—Paul Davies, God and the New Physics

Time flows. But if something flows, it changes with respect to time. So time must change with respect to time. But nothing can change with respect to itself. This paradox flows from the basic paradox inherent in the definition of time. Read any general physics textbook and you will find that time is defined by a unit of time: the duration, or amount of time from one cycle to the next, of a time standard. Any phenomenon that repeats itself may be used as a time standard.

Time is not defined as something, but by something because nothing physical can define a unit of time. It has no physical existence, though it can be measured. Time is not material itself, but a concept that allows one to understand change in the material world. The fact that time is not physical doesn't matter to science. As long as it can be measured, it can stand on its own. It is considered real.

Space, in terms of length, is defined in the same way: by the measurement of something that occupies space, like a ruler. But it does not present the same paradox as time; a unit of space is defined by a physical object, which does not appear to change. It is tangible and much easier to grasp because you can literally grasp it in your hands. A student must accept both these definitions as fact in order to learn any of the other relationships in physics, but some of us never get over the gnawing feeling that something is missing in the basic philosophy behind these concepts. And then there are those who have experienced timelessness, a mystical moment of extreme clarity that reveals innate wisdom and leaves one with certainty that there is some kind of ineffable distortion in our everyday perception of reality.

The mystery of time and timelessness is an ancient one that is probably solved in every generation of humankind. You would not think to find it written in science texts because those who understand it do so through direct experience of timeless unity. They generally express their experience artistically in terms of images, allegories, myths, and parables. These expressions automatically take on a religious and even fairy tale appearance, and are thus forbidden to enter the halls of science. However, the question of time and timelessness does appear at the pinnacle of quantum physics, in an equation known as the time-independent Schrödinger equation. This equation is too difficult to explain here, but it is mentioned here to direct the interested reader, who is academically inclined, to learn how timeless reality is understood in modern physics. If you are interested, The Tao of Physics by Fritjof Capra is a great place to start.

Science is based on measurement, and time and space are fundamental units of measurement. I submit that the circular reasoning used to define time and space—two different aspects of the same—is what creates the "whirling vortex of self reference" in ordinary perception. This conceptual vortex locks the metaphorical sword of awareness in the stone of measured reality.

In The Metaphysical Foundations of Modern Science, first published in 1924 and most recently in 2003, Edwin A. Burtt recognized the problem with the idea of absolute time. Burtt explained that the concept of space and time as independent quantities, each with their own fundamental existence, is actually a relatively new idea, which was defined by Isaac Newton in the seventeenth century.

Before Newton, the difference in space and time was certainly recognized. People knew that things moved in space and changed in time, but they were not considered to be fundamentally different phenomena. Instead, they were seen as aspects of motion. The strict definition of time as an absolute was then stated by Newton:

Absolute, true, and mathematical time, of itself, and from its own nature, flows equably without regard to anything external, and by another name is called duration: relative, apparent, and common time, is some sensible and external (whether accurate or unequable) measure of duration by the means of motion, which is commonly used instead of true time; such as an hour, a day, a month, or a year.

This definition was accepted because it was such a useful concept. In order to derive meaning out of reality, Newton separated motion into two aspects and considered time to be the absolute. Motion then was considered to be secondary, the process by which time was measured. He did the same thing with space, saying that absolute space remains always similar and immovable, and then defined absolute motion as a translation from one absolute place to another. We are so used to it that we rarely give it any thought and when we do, it is hard to imagine any other way of looking at it. But back then, the idea of motion as a measure of time was recognized as a philosophical blunder, as expressed by mathematician Isaac Barrow:

Nor let anyone object that time is commonly regarded as a measure of motion, and that consequently differences of motion (swifter, slower, accelerated, retarded) are defined by assuming time as known; and that therefore the quantity of time is not determined by motion but the quantity of motion by time: for nothing prevents time and motion from rendering each other mutual, aid in this respect. Clearly, just as we measure space, first by some magnitude, and learn how much it is, later judging other congruent magnitudes by space; so we first reckon time from some motion and afterwards judge other motions by it; which is plainly nothing else than to compare some motions with others by the mediation of time; just as by the mediation of space we investigate the relations of magnitudes with each other (Burtt 158).

Motion is the fundamental reality, not time or space. As the Greek philosopher, Heraclitus said, "The only constant is change." Motion is change; time and space are only measures of motion, conceptual tools that we use to "compare some motions with others by mediation." We need something constant for our minds to hold onto, so we artificially separate change (motion) and defined relatively constant units called space and time. A spatial measurement does not actually measure space, it measures a change in space. In order to measure something in space, there has to be a difference between one end and the other of the thing being measured, and there must be a way to identify the ends, such as the physical ends of the ruler or tick marks on a line. The same is true for a time measurement—it is a measure of change from a point in one cycle, to the same point in the next.

A spatial standard does not require any sort of pattern, although a regular pattern in space can certainly be used as a standard since a beginning and an end can be perceived. But a time standard must repeat at regular intervals because the regularity of the interval is what allows one to pin it down, that is, to mentally convert change into an apparent constant.

Something that can be perceived as changing repeatedly by the same amount in both space and time, such as the wave pattern shown in figure 1, can be used to define both space and time. This is the key: you can measure change in two different ways, spatial and temporal, so it appears that the measurements are two fundamentally different phenomena. But it is the measurement that makes them appear to be different, not the phenomena themselves. Space and time are two different ways of measuring change. The only difference between the two measurements is the frame of reference. If the observer is in the same frame as the wave, there is no relative motion between the observer and the wave, so the only change that can be measured is the change in space, for example, from the beginning to the end of the wave. In this case, the wave cannot be used to measure time. A second frame of reference, one that moves relative to the first, is required for the wave to change in time.

To illustrate this, look at the wave pattern in figure 1. It is stationary in your frame of reference, so there is no way to use it as a time standard. It can be used to measure a unit of space because you can see where the wave crosses the grid lines. I could now define one unit of space as the distance between one cross-point and the next. Distance is, of course, an amount of space, and defining space as a measure of space is circular reasoning. But that circularity can be avoided by saying that a unit of space is the difference or change between one cross-point and the next.

Now, if you could not sense anything else in the universe, you would not experience the "psychological time-flux." If you forget about everything else that tells you that time is passing, such as clocks, schedules, aging bodies, increasing entropy, and so on, and focus only on the wave, it would just be as it is—timeless. In order to use the wave to create the feeling or impression that time is passing, you would need a moving reference frame.

Imagine that there is a rectangular slot on this page and the wave is a track cut in a different piece of material moving from left to right behind this page. Now imagine that a pin is placed in the slot as shown in figure 2, and the pin is allowed to ride in the wave-shaped track.

The pin will move up the slot until the wave reaches the peak and then down to the bottom of the slot. The instant it started moving, you would sense time, and one unit of time could then be defined as the change that occurs, for example between one peak and the next. Notice I didn't say a unit of time could be defined as the time between one peak and the next, again because that would be circular reasoning.

The fact that we can measure the exact same change in two different ways, just by using two different reference frames that move relative to each other, is the secret of time. We perceive that reality is made up of "things" that "change" in time. That perception creates the separation of "change" into space and time. Taken together the change in space and time make up space-time—a state of energy. The things that we think of as being "things" are not permanent things, they are patterns of energy. A pattern of energy is a unit of space-time in a particular state—it exists in a unique state of space and time. When an object moves, it changes to a new state of space-time—a new "location" in space and time. If an object is on earth, it is always moving because the earth is always moving.

Space-time is energy and energy is a process; energy is change. The statement that "the only constant is change" is not just a catchy phrase; it is the law of conservation of energy. The only constant is change because change is energy, and energy is change. Energy can neither be created nor destroyed it can only be changed in form. In other words, energy is timeless, eternal. Eternal does not mean for a very long time, it means no time. It is our perception of energy that creates the psychological time flux. Thus time as an independent, fundamental quantity does not exist. The only reality is now—the energy that exists right this moment. If you consider the past and future to be real, then the current moment cannot exist because it would simply be the interface between past and future. But past and future are not real; they are mental constructs created by the concept of time, which is a tool that allows one to understand the process of energy interacting with energy.

Does this mean that physics is wrong to define space and time as it does? No. The definitions of space and time are simply names assigned to measurable unknowns. On the contrary, both classical physics and modern physics are increasingly reliable, verifiable, and undeniable. But they are simply tools that are used to mathematically (symbolically) express measured reality. Because they subsist entirely on relationships—differences—real as well as perceived differences, they are limited to the world of opposites. Symbols used in physics are expressed in the form of an equation, which is itself a duality; there are always two sides of an equation separated by the equals sign. Therefore, although a complete theory can be derived for measured reality, physics cannot express undifferentiated awareness, but only provide an intellectual platform from which awareness can grow.

What we perceive in the form of differences is the process of transforming chaotic energy into awareness. The world of opposites is merely the surface of the expanding universe, that is, expanding universal awareness. It is impossible to perceive the expansion because everything expands together and every observation collapses the space-time state function into the present moment. Every observation expands awareness. The information that resides outside of you is becoming part of you. It enters you via the wave front known as your body. Thus the inner realm is where the awareness resides. An ancient prophet once said, "God is an intelligible sphere who's center is everywhere and circumference, nowhere." Another prophet said, "The kingdom of God is within you."

Measured reality is where the quest begins. It gives us a sense of certainty—something we can grasp, something we can put our hands on and understand. We can understand it because we can perceive it with our physical senses. But just as a computer requires ones and zeros to process information, we need the opposites—the difference in light and dark, left and right, up and down, you and me, and so on—to create awareness. Ironically, the very thing that allows us to perceive is what forces us to focus on the surface of measured reality, where the transformation occurs, and ignore the inner dimension, where the individual differences reunite with the universal consciousness in timeless reality.

Measured reality is the reality that exists in time. That is, measured reality is temporal. And everything that is temporal is temporary. That pattern of energy in your brain and throughout your body is your mind, your ego, which you use to run your life. But that pattern is temporary. It changes as you live and it will change forms when you die. Your mind exists in space and time and does not recognize any other reality. It says, "I think, therefore I am," but it does not realize that the truth is, "I think, therefore I am temporary."

Your mind was created by opposites and is itself made up of opposites. That pattern of thoughts and memories that you have created out of information is what you identify with, what you call your self. Thinking is a temporal process, it exists in time and so it is temporary. If you identify your self with your thoughts, you too will be temporary. The thinking part of you is the mortal part of you.

Your mind looks only at the past and hopes for the future. It rarely focuses on the present, because everything it knows is in the past. It is made out of the past. That is how you know it is not the real you, because the past is not real. Remember that past and future are those concepts that we use as tools to understand measured reality, and the present is all that is real. Nothing exists except the moment now. As Eckhart Tolle explains so beautifully in The Power of Now, the true self is not the thinking self, it is the knowing self—Joseph Campbell's hero with a thousand faces. The thinking self says "I think, therefore I am" but the knowing self is timeless and says, "I am that I am" (Exodus 3:14).

References Burtt, E. A. The Metaphysical Foundations of Modern Science. New York: Dover Publications, 2003. Capra, Fritof. The Tao of Physics. Boston, MA: Shambala, 2000. Tolle, Eckhart. The Power of Now. Novato, CA: New World, 2004.

Theodore St. John is Lieutenant Commander in the medical Services Corps for the U.S. Navy. Presently, he is head of the Research and Science Department at the Naval Dosimetry Center in Bethesda, Maryland.