Quest Magazine

By George M. Young

Originally printed in the JANUARY- FEBRUARY 2008 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Young, George M. "Boids," the Group Soul, and Universal Brotherhood." Quest  96.1 (JANUARY- FEBRUARY 2008): 23-25.

Perhaps, like me, you have sometimes marveled at the sight of a flock of birds, a swarm of insects, or a school of fish, all moving as if with one mind; not just in a single direction, but almost as a living cloud, twisting this way and that, over and around invisible obstacles in air or water. How do they do it? Does one of them set the course for all the rest to follow by visual, auditory, or other cues, or do they together somehow intuit where the entire flock is headed and where each individual in the swarm belongs? Does the first minnow actually lead, or is he or she merely the front fish for the will of the school? And if the one at the head of the formation falls back, how is it decided that another--and which one--will take its place?

Biologists have long been interested in such questions, and in a 1986 seminal study applying the principles of artificial life to coordinated animal behavior, Craig Reynolds proposed three simple rules that each individual "boid" (as he calls them) could follow in order to produce the emergent behavior pattern we know as flocking. The principles were: separation (steering to avoid interfering with local flock members); alignment (steering toward the average heading of the local flock); and cohesion (steering toward the average position of the local flock). In the studies that have followed, these principles have been turned to many applications, for instance enabling science students to simulate flocking behavior on their laptops, and film studios to create realistic animated wildebeest stampedes and penguin marches.

The principles of steering, alignment, and cohesion may offer an accurate, replicable description of flocking "boids," but do these terms really explain the sudden, simultaneous swoop of twenty or thirty little birds from one side of a highway over to the other? Or the dark, roiling cloud of minnows that suddenly flashes past the end of the dock? What allows the "boid" to know whether it is or is not interfering with others, whether or not it is aligned, or whether it has or has not attained cohesion with the group? As a student of Theosophy looking for a deeper understanding of such things, I find useful a concept that Leadbeater and others have called (though perhaps it is still controversial) the "group soul" of animals. As Leadbeater explains in Man Visible and Invisible, evolution has brought only humans and the highest, domesticated animals to the stage of individualization. Lower animals have individual bodies but seem much less individualized in awareness and behavior. Leadbeater illustrates the idea with the image of a tumbler of water dipped from a bucket. Imagine that a certain amount of coloring—representing individual qualities and life experiences—were added to the tumbler of water, lending it a particular hue. At the anima's death, the tumbler of water, with its coloring, would be poured back into the bucket, adding a slight new tint to the water in the bucket, which has already been and is still being tinted by the water from many other similar tumblers. The next time the emptied tumbler is filled, it will not hold exactly the same water as before, but will contain many particles of the same water as before—a mixture of individuality and replication. The golden retriever our children now play with may not be the same one that we played with as children, but throw a tennis ball as far as you can and the differences disappear.

The higher up the ladder of evolution, the more individuality and less replication appears in the mixture. Creatures lower on the ladder live almost entirely by the instincts built over time into the group souls of their kinds. In the more evolved, instinct is still present, but it has become less and less the dominant factor in behavior. We humans still have traces of a group soul—when the wave comes our way at the ballpark, how can we not join it? But we usually think of ourselves as better and more human when we try to behave as conscious and responsible individuals and not as a blind instinctive mass.

One problem that we may have as we evolve, is that in thinking of ourselves primarily as free, conscious individuals and in valuing behaviors that emphasize consciousness and free choice, we can forget that we do still retain traces of our group soul. We may either try to ignore or exaggerate our ancient animal instincts instead of recognizing, respecting, and intelligently governing them. This would seem to be particularly true in America, and probably in Western Europe as well, where, on one hand, extreme individualism has reached the point where social commentators warn of the loss of all sense of community, where anomie has become endemic, and, as Robert Putnam has suggested in Bowling Alone: The Collapse and Revival of American Community, we spend our lives and waste our social capital "bowling alone." While on the other hand, partly as an antithetical reaction against individualism, extreme group-angst has led to widespread unthinking tribalism, that is, mindless identification with whatever religion, ethnic group, age sector, job category, political party, educational background, income level, or other population segment to which we feel most allegiance. Extreme individualism would, for better and/or worse, set me against the uncomprehending and unaccepting "rest of the world," just as extreme tribalism would unite me to my kind against all the other kinds.

As Theosophists, one thing we can try to do is to model a properly balanced human mixture of individualism and flocking behavior. Each of us, with our unique qualities, histories, abilities, and memories is more of an individual, differentiated from every other, to a degree unmatched in any other species. At the same time, our DNA proves without question, that we, with all our individual and tribal differences, are related as members of one human family. Supposedly, we all know this by now as an incontrovertible fact. But, as the daily news tragically demonstrates, knowing and acting on what we know are very different things. What we, as a nucleus of the universal brotherhood of humanity, can do is not only preach but practice the awareness that we are all of one family.

In American literature and thought, the heavy emphasis is on the individual who stands out from the crowd, the hero who rides his own way, rows against the currents, takes the road less traveled, and listens to a different drummer. As Walt Whitman said, "I sing myself, and celebrate myself." Or as Emily Dickinson put it, "The Soul selects her own society." Robert Bly has noted that our most talented and creative minds have all wanted to be the flying fragments rather than a part of that solid mass from which the flying fragments fly. But, when nearly everybody is trying to be a flying fragment, what remains to fly from? When everyone is trying so desperately to be "different," then what is there to be different from?

In Taoism, Confucianism, and the literature and thought of much of the non-western world, the emphasis is not so much on the outstanding natural or human unit as on the confluent balance of realities within which the particular natural or human unit has its role and place. In Russian literature and thought, an idea that comes up again and again is sobornost, from sobor, the word for "cathedral" and "congregation," meaning a spiritual consensus within which the individual voice finds its full and free expression. In this tradition, the most important decisions are made not by majority vote but by sobornost, where everyone who wishes speaks his mind freely and eventually there emerges a consensus to which every voice has contributed. In this tradition, the real hero is not the dissident who steps away from the group to go his own way, but the one who speaks the truth with such persuasive force that those who initially hold other views freely--with no coercion--relinquish and correct their erroneous positions. Although not as often as in Russian culture, we do sometimes see sobornost in American culture. In the old black and white movies, the model for this kind of heroism would not be the Lone Ranger, or the Gary Cooper character in High Noon, but the Henry Fonda character in Twelve Angry Men.

Balance, then, is what we can offer as a model. When we see extreme blind tribalism, we can emphasize the importance of each individual. And when we see individualism taken to a disgusting, exclusive extreme, we can reemphasize the value of community.

As the paradoxical narrator of Dostoevsky's Notes from Underground so persuasively argues, we should under no circumstances allow ourselves to become ants in an anthill. Heightened individual consciousness, though often it brings pain, is our chief human quality and a divine gift. So while we may admire a sweeping flock of birds, or a bending cloud of insects, and marvel at the instinct that keeps them at once apart and together, their way is no longer ours. We retain traces of the group soul and should not ignore or forget that part of our evolving nature. But neither should we allow the instincts embedded in our group soul to dominate our behavior. Consciousness, not only aware of but directing its own evolution, is a mark of our humanity. As individual members of a nucleus of the universal brotherhood of all humanity, we can consciously attempt to model and direct ourselves, and members of our flock, to a higher form of separation, alignment, and cohesion than even the marvelous versions accomplished unconsciously by our finned and winged fellow creatures.

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Originally printed in the January - February  2001 issue of Quest magazine.
Citation: Algeo, John. "Of Parts, Footprints, and Stars: John Sellon." Quest  89.1 (JANUARY - FEBRUARY  2001):

By John Algeo, National President

All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts.

John A. Sellon was a man of many parts--a man for all seasons. He was a caring son, father, grandfather, and great-grandfather--a pater familias. He was especially a loving husband who stood beside his wife, Emily, in all her activities. He was an ethical businessman of astute judgment, devoted to right livelihood. He was a passionate supporter of education, intellectual rigor, and social responsibility. He was a generous friend and gracious host. He was a man who knew his mind and did not hesitate to speak it, but who also listened too the views and took account of them. He was a Theosophist with an abiding conviction about the Theosophical Society's purpose of doing the work of those great souls, the Masters of Wisdom, who, having dedicated themselves to the service of humanity, are thereby role models for others.

John Sellon was born in London on May 20, 1910, to Ernest and Barbara Sellon. At the age of 8, he came with his family to America, settling in Rye, New York,which was to be his principal residence for the rest of his life. His mother and father joined the Theosophical Society in 1925, when John was 15, an event that was to affect the rest of their lives and his. John himself joined in 1929 at the age of 19 just two months before the stock market crash that brought on the Great Depression.

In 1930, John's father, Ernest, became the first president of the New York Theosophical Society, which united three earlier lodges in the city. In 1932 Ernest became international Treasurer under the presidency of George Arundale and moved with John's mother, Barbara, to Adyar. While they were there, in 1934, Barbara painted a watercolor depicting the path leading to the beach on the Bay of Bengal from Leadbeater Chambers. Earlier this year, John gave that picture, which had long hung in his house in Rye, to the Theosophical Society as a memento of his mother. It now adorns the first-floor hall of the L.W. Rogers Building at Olcott as a point of beauty and a visual reminder of our links with Adyar and the Sellons.

In 1931, facing the rigors of those days, John left Princeton University to begin work at the American Reinsurance Company, thus launching himself on a career that he was to develop brilliantly for the rest of his life. In that same year, John married Emily Boenke and began his own family. They were a devoted couple, each with independent interests but mutually supportive and respectful. John was proud of Emily's accomplishments and abilities, as she was of his.

While raising three sons--Peter, Jeffrey, and Michael--John Sellon followed his parents' example of Theosophical activity, for example serving as treasurer of the New York Federation from 1934 to 1937 and of the New York Lodge in 1935 -36. He and Emily, together with Fritz and Dora Kunz, were instrumental in buying Pumpkin Hollow Farm for a Theosophical camp in 1937; for many years, John was treasurer and general manager of Pumpkin Hollow. He was president of the New York Lodge several times in the late 1930s and early 1940s. He served on the National Board of Directors of the Theosophical Society in America from 1942 to1948.

John Sellon spoke at the New York Lodge and elsewhere over a period of more than forty years. His talks were wide-ranging but practical. Some of his topics were "What Is Theosophy?" "The Objects of the Theosophical Society," "East and West: Two Approaches to a Single Reality," "Old Diary Leaves," "The Power of the Individual," "The Teachings of Krishnamurti," "The Personality: Its Structure of Thought and Feeling," "Karma and Free Will," "Theosophy, Present and Future," "Self-Awareness, a Technique of Development," "Spiritual Implications in Nuclear Energy," "The Search for Happiness," and "Right Livelihood: How to Live and Work Ethically in a Competitive World."

John Sellon also appeared in print. For example, in 1941, on the eve of America's entering into a conflict that would sweep the world, he expressed his thoughts on "Future Program Possibilities" in the American Theosophist (29:213–21), in part as follows:

As members of the Theosophical Society we are, of course, dedicated to carry on the work for which the Society was formed. The Elder Brethren are dedicated quite clearly to a certain type of work and I believe we have had a strong indication as to what this is. I believe that all the Elder Brethren are trying to lead humanity into a way of life which will be more in the line of Divinity and less in the line of confusion and struggle in which we find ourselves today.. . .

The Theosophical Society, it seems to me, has an unparalleled opportunity in these times--and an obligation no less than an opportunity. We have spent sixty years in building up a philosophy which is sound, correlated with scientific knowledge, and based upon the truth which is fundamental in all religions--the effort of sincere people seeking truth with great guidance. I believe we have a real conception of truth; we know the soundness of our philosophy, are convinced that it is practical.

With the new conditions that are facing the world it seems that our obligation in planning a program for the future is to bear in mind very clearly the fact that we must help the world awaken to a realization of the fundamental importance and practicality of idealism--not an idealism based on faith, but on knowledge and understanding of the true course of life in manifestation. Nothing can be more important at this time than the demonstration of a philosophy of life which carries with it the answer to the search for real personal happiness, and the solution of the problem of a world society in turmoil. We must help to give a new direction to the way of life of our fellow men.

Those words are no less applicable today than they were nearly sixty years ago. John Sellon was a man for all seasons and all times. He was also active in the work of the Integration Committee, whose primary aim was to integrate Theosophy with modern knowledge. Its principle outlet was the journal Main Currents in Modern Thought, for which Emily was a writer, assistant editor, and finally editor for a period of thirty years.

One of John Sellon's great practical contributions was his work on theTheosophical Investment Trust. Established in 1955, it had as its foundingTrustees (in addition to three ex-officio officers of the Society) Herbert Kern as chair, Sidney A. Cook, Alonzo G. Decker, and John Sellon. John served as a Trustee for forty-five years, longer than any other officer of the Trust, and for more than half that time as chair of the Trustees. Under his guidance and supervision, the Trust has grown and is now a major source of funds "to carry on the work for which the Society was formed," as John put it in his 1941 programmatic statement.

In 1976, as chair of the Trust, John reported to the members of the Section on "The Economics of Service at the National Level" (AT 64:266–8). He ended, as always, on a practical note:

In conclusion, I would like to say that your national organization is constantly concerned with the needs of its members, and has tried to respond to these needs at a level of performance which is possibly beyond its means. Each year we go forward, confident that these services will be supported by the membership. To do so by contributing in a monetary way is often the best way that each member can gain an intimate sense of participation in the great service we have embraced as Theosophists.

Although, as was appropriate to his role as financial advisor to the Society, John wrote of "contributing in a monetary way," he also recognized that contributions of other sorts--of one's talents, one's time, and one's commitment--are just as, indeed even more, important. John Sellon, that man of many parts, that man for all seasons, gave freely of himself--talents, time, and commitment--because he recognized the importance of what he lived for. And in so doing he, like those Elder Brethren of whom he spoke so often, became a role model for the rest of us.

Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us,
Footprints in the sands of time.

John Sellon was a man of great ideals and great vision. He left large footprints. We may not be able to fill them as he did. But they mark out a path. We can follow in those footprints and thereby make our lives, like his, sublime.

The Theosophical Society has been blessed with an abundance of great men and women, each shining forth the light of his or her own unique nature. Illustrious among them have been Ernest Sellon, Barbara Sellon, Emily Sellon, and John Sellon. They have been luminaries that lit up our sky. In this world, we are all wanderers--planets reflecting the light of the sun. But our true nature and our destiny is to be bright stars in the firmament of heaven.

Astronomers tell us that the matter of which our bodies are made has been repeatedly in the interior of stars. We are, quite literally, made of starstuff. I think of John Sellon as a whole constellation, perhaps Ursa Major--part grizzly bear, part teddy bear, but wholly star stuff. It has been written:

There is no death! The stars go down
To rise upon some other shore,
And bright in heaven's jewelèd crown
They shine for evermore.

We stand as upon a hill in the dark night, watching the stars pass in their courses above us. Some shine with greater brilliance than others, but all light up the sky with the beauty of the night. They cross the heavens in measured paths, according to the Great Law, and as morning dawns, they are lost to our sight. But we know that they still shine. What we call day is but the night of the spirit, in which the eternal Stars shine yet in the heavens and, if we are open to them, in our hearts as well. We honor those who have crossed the heavens before us. In the darkest night, they are our guides as we wait for a new dawn. John Sellon is one of those stars.

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Originally printed in the January - February  2001 issue of Quest magazine.
Citation:Brooks, Richard W. "xxx." Quest  89.1 (JANUARY - FEBRUARY  2001): 18-21.

By Richard W. Brooks

Many Theosophists have fallen in love with the little Chinese classic known as the Tao Te Ching and ascribed to the sage Lao Tzu. We see in it an echo of many familiar Theosophical ideas. Others share our enthusiasm, however, since it has been translated into English more often than any other book except the Bhagavad Gita. But what, exactly, is the nature of this little book? And why does it fascinate people?

First of all, it is a short "classic" (ching). It is traditionally divided into eighty-one chapters, which are further organized into two sections, one dealing with tao (literally "way") and one dealing with te (usually translated "virtue," but conveying the idea of "moral force"). There are several different versions of the text, but each contains about five thousand Chinese characters. That makes it a manageable task for a reader.

Second, it is often cryptic. Many passages are susceptible of quite different translations. Not only does this offer a challenge to any translator or reader, it also leads to a feeling, on the part of many, that they know what it really means, whereas others have missed the point. In fact, Lao Tzu even encourages this attitude, when he says:

My words are easy to understand and easy to practice,
Yet no one under Heaven understands or practices them.
My words have an ancestor, my deeds have a lord.
Precisely because men do not understand this, they do not understand me.
Because those who understand me are few, I am greatly valued.
Therefore, the Sage wears a coarse woolen coat, and carries
his jade underneath it. [ch. 70]

To have an "ancestor" and a "lord" was to be part of the social order, that is to say, not to be a wild man. Here it is a metaphorical way of claiming that the Tao Te Ching has a coherent teaching. The last line is a metaphor to say that the teaching is, however, hidden under an apparently rough exterior guise. These lines make an important point for those who cannot read Chinese: one should always be cautious about citing any translation uncritically. And that applies to those in this essay, which are all my own.

Third, where one finds general agreement among translators on the meaning of certain passages, the philosophic viewpoint that the Tao Te Ching offers is so strikingly different from our normal way of thinking that it causes us to sit back and reassess our own viewpoint--especially in the realms of metaphysics and interpersonal behavior. Again, Lao Tzu alludes to this when he writes:

When the best student hears of the Way (tao),
He practices it diligently.
When the average student hears of the Way,
He half believes, half disbelieves it.
When the foolish student hears of the way,
He laughs out loud.
If he didn't laugh, it couldn't be considered the Way! [ch.41]

That is true of most really profound teachings. And that is why Theosophists find the Tao Te Ching a book well worth careful, repeated study. But that's just the beginning. We still haven't answered the question what is its nature? The answer to this question is crucial to any translation, since it will color how certain important words, and even whole passages, are translated.

Is this little book the work of a single author? If so, one expects to find its ideas coherent. Or is it merely a compilation of what one translator calls "Laoist" sayings? If so, one would not expect consistency, but rather occasional contradictions. My own feeling, after forty years of studying the book and reading numerous translations, is that it is at least generally coherent. One ought at least to look for coherence before abandoning the hypothesis that it is the work of a single author. In fact, even translators like D. C. Lau who feel it is a collection of stray sayings, have done coherent and consistent translations. Even if it is a compilation of "Laoist" sayings by someone calling himself Lao Tzu (literally "old fellow" or "old master"), they form a generally consistent whole.

There are basically three approaches to the text. One assumes the book to be primarily mystical or metaphysical, and certainly many passages support that idea, including the opening chapter. Another assumes that the Tao Te Ching is predominantly a sociopolitical treatise; again, numerous passages support that interpretation. In addition, almost all early Chinese philosophy was sociopolitical in nature, so this interpretation fits the general pattern. And finally, one can find support in many passages for a philosophy of personal, or more aptly interpersonal, action. I think all three interpretations are correct, with no real conflict between them.

All ancient Chinese philosophers (prior to the advent of Buddhism) considered humans to be social creatures with certain natural desires (for good food, fine clothing, sex, a filial family, nice housing in a decent neighborhood, and a government responsive to the needs of the people). To be a celibate recluse was considered to be abnormal, sick. So early Chinese philosophy addresses the problems of human beings in society and the Tao Te Ching is therefore a sociopolitical treatise. But the organization and governance of state and society should be based on ethics. And that means, according to the Tao Te Ching (and Theosophy), that ethics must be grounded in the way Nature works, or metaphysics.

The sociopolitical situation in ancient China at the time of Lao Tzu (which might have been anywhere between the sixth and the second centuries BC) was dire, as is clearly indicated in a number of passages, for example:

The court is arrayed in splendor,
While the fields are full of weeds
While the fields are full of weeds
While the fields are full of weeds
And the granaries are bare.
Yet some wear elegant, embroidered clothes
And carry sharp swords;
They gorge themselves on food and drink
And have more possessions than they can use.
This is robbery and extravagance,
And is certainly not the Way (tao).[ch. 53]

Why are the people starving?
Because the rulers take so much tax grain.
That's why they're starving. [ch. 75]

Unfortunately, in many countries of the world today, the political situation is essentially the same! That is just one of the things which makes this little classic timeless--and which makes Lao Tzu's recommended solution of more than merely intellectual interest to us.

Although important metaphysical ideas are scattered throughout the Tao TeChing, most of them can be found in the tao or first section of the book (chs.1—37). The first idea is that Nature is unitary—one coherent, mysterious, interrelated ground of being, such that it cannot be delineated or described in language, but can only be apprehended in a desire-free, transcendental, unitive experience (clearly a Theosophical idea):

Something there is mysteriously formed,
Existing before Heaven and Earth,
Silent, still, standing alone, unchanging,
All-pervading, unfailing,
It may be regarded as the mother of Heaven and Earth.
I do not know its name; I call it tao.
If forced to give it a name, I call it
Great (ta).
Being great, it flows out;
Flowing out means far-reaching;
Being far-reaching, it is said to return. [ch. 25]

The tao that can be told of is not the unvarying tao;
The name that can be named is not the unvarying name.
The nameless is the beginning of Heaven and Earth;
The named is the Mother of the ten thousand things.
Therefore, ever desireless one sees its essence,
But ever desiring one sees its manifestations.
These two are the same,
But after being produced have different names.
This may be called a mystery:
A mystery within a mystery,
The gateway to all essences. [ch. 1]

The second idea, as already alluded to above, is that nature or tao is cyclic:

Returning is the movement of tao;
Weakness [or yielding] is the method of tao;
The ten thousand things are born from Being;
And Being is born of Nonbeing. [ch. 40]

This too is a common Theosophical idea. So also is the third characteristic of Nature: it is impersonal, not partial to humans or any other beings:

Heaven and, Earth are not humane (jên);
They regard the ten thousand things as straw dogs.
The Sage is not humane (jên);
He regards the hundred families as straw dogs. [ch. 5]

"The ten thousand things" in Chinese means "all things"; and "the hundred families" means "all people." The Taoist philosopher Chuang Tzu (about 369—286 BC prior to the compilation of the Tao Te Ching) reports that certain ancient ceremonies in China used dogs woven of straw; during the ceremony these straw dogs were treated with the greatest respect, but after they had served their purpose in the ceremony they were discarded and trampled on. This idea of the impersonality of Nature runs through all the major philosophical Taoist writings, and it is echoed in letter 10 (88 in the chronological series) of The Mahatma Letters to A. P. Sinnett:

Nature is destitute of goodness or malice; she follows only immutable laws when she either gives life and joy, or sends suffering[and] death, and destroys what she has created. . . . The butterfly devoured by a bird becomes that bird, and the little bird killed byan animal goes into a higher form. It is the blind law of necessity and the eternal fitness of things, and hence cannot be called Evil in Nature.

Fourth, manifested Nature is dual, having two aspects. These are indicated, in one passage, by the familiar terms yang (more frequently called Heaven or t'ien in the text) and yin (more frequently called Earth or ti). But a closer reading of the text also shows that the two are but different aspects of a more fundamental energy, termed ch'i:

The ten thousand things carry yin on their backs and embrace yang in their arms,
And by blending the ch'i achieve harmony. [ch. 42]

The Secret Doctrine (1:14—5) has passages in which the"one absolute Reality" ("rootless root," "Be-ness," or "Parabrahman") is called"that Essence which is out of all relation to conditioned existence" and is said to have two aspects, "abstract Space" and "abstract Motion," the latter also called the "Great Breath." H. P. Blavatsky further says that once one passes from this level of abstraction, "duality supervenes in the contrast of Spirit (or consciousness) and Matter, Subject and Object." Yang, then, would be equivalent metaphorically to Spirit and yin to Matter, although they are often interpreted more literally as just "sky" and "earth."

Finally, Lao Tzu mentions a trinitarian aspect to Nature. The manifested one not only gives rise to two, but two, in turn, gives rise to three--thence to the "ten thousand things":

Tao gives birth to one;
One gives birth to two:
Two gives birth to three;
Three gives birth to the ten thousand things. [ch. 42]

Such a trinitarian aspect of the creative, manifesting side of Nature is a common theme in several of the world's religions. The Secret Doctrine (1:16) also identifies three logoi, the third of which is called "the Universal World-Soul, the Cosmic Noumenon of Matter, the basis of the intelligent operations in and of Nature," which sounds very much like the same idea expressed cryptically above. There is one other passage from the Tao TeChing which some Theosophists have thought even suggests influence from or upon Hindu and Judeo-Christian theology:

We look at it but do not see it: it is
    termed elusive (or evanescent, minute,
    formless, invisible) (yi);

We listen to it but do not hear it: it is
    termed inaudible (or rarefied) (hsi);

We touch it but do not feel it: it is termed
    intangible (or subtle, infinitesimal) (wei). [ch. 14]

The three words used here to characterize tao are yi, hsi, and wei in Chinese, suggesting a trinitarian parallel with yod, he, and vau or YHV of the Hebrew Divine Name transliterated as Jehovah, or, i, sha, and va of the Hindu "Isvara." But since philosophical Taoism is naturalistic, not theistic, these parallels are more probably a linguistic coincidence. Theosophists shouldn't make too much of them. In fact, H. P. Blavatsky quotes Max Müller in pointing out that this is, in his phrase, a false analogy (SD 1:472). [to be concluded]

.

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Richard Brooks, PhD, is a retired professor from Oakland University in Michigan, where he taught Asian philosophy. A member of theTheosophical Society for forty-seven years, he currently serves on the National Board of Directors. This article is adapted from the Theosophist, November 1998.

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Originally printed in the January - February  2001 issue of Quest magazine.
Citation: Caldwell, Daniel. "The Esoteric World of Madame Blavatsky." Quest  89.1 (JANUARY - FEBRUARY  2001): 6-13, 22.

Compiled by Daniel Caldwell

Insights into the Life of a Modern Sphinx

[Extracts from the Quest Book published in December 2000]

The baby [Helena Petrovna] was born on the night between [August 11 and 12,1831]-- weak, and apparently no denizen of this world. A hurried baptism had to be resorted to, therefore, lest the child died with the burden of original sin on her soul. The ceremony of baptism in orthodox Russia is attended with all the paraphernalia of lighted tapers, every one of the spectators and actors being furnished with consecrated wax candles during the whole proceedings. Moreover, everyone has to stand during the baptismal rite, no one being allowed to sit in the Greek religion, as they do in Roman Catholic and Protestant churches, during the church and religious service. The child-aunt of the baby--only a few years older than her niece, aged twenty-four hours--placed as "proxy" for an absent relative, was in the first row. Feeling nervous and tired of standing still for nearly an hour, the child settled on the floor unperceived by the elders, and became probably drowsy in the over-crowded room on that hot day. The ceremony was nearing its close. The sponsors were just in the act of renouncing the Evil One and his deeds, a renunciation emphasized in the Greek Church by thrice spitting upon the invisible enemy, when the little lady, toying with her lighted taper at the feet of the crowd, inadvertently set fire to the long flowing robes of the priest. The result was an immediate conflagration, during which several persons--chiefly the old priest--were severely burnt. That was a bad omen, according to the superstitious beliefs of orthodox Russia; and the innocent cause of it--the future Mme. Blavatsky--was doomed from that day in the eyes of all the town to an eventful life, full of trouble. --1831, Alfred P.Sinnett

When her mother was dying, although her eldest daughter was only eleven years old, she was filled with well-founded apprehensions for her future, and said :"Ah well! perhaps it is best that I am dying, so at least I shall be spared seeing what befalls Helena! Of one thing I am certain, her life will not be as that of other women, and that she will have much to suffer!!" --1842, Vera P. de Zhelihovsky

Helena cared not whether she should get married or not. She had been simply defied one day by her governess to find any man who would be her husband, in view of her temper and disposition. The governess, to emphasize the taunt, said that even the old man [Nikifor V. Blavatsky] she had found so ugly, and had laughed at so much, calling him "a plumeless raven"--that even he would decline her for a wife! That was enough: three days after she made him propose, and then, frightened at what she had done, sought to escape from her joking acceptance of his offer. But it was too late. Hence the fatal step. All she knew and understood was--when too late--that she had been accepting, and was now forced to accept--a master she cared nothing for, nay, that she hated, that she was tied to him by the law of the country, hand and foot. There had been a distinct attempt to impress her with the solemnity of marriage, with her future obligations and her duties to her husband, and married life. A few hours later,at the altar, she heard the priest saying to her, "Thou shalt honor and obey thy husband," and at this hated word, "shalt," her young face was seen to flush angrily, then to become deadly pale. She was overheard to mutter in response,through her set teeth, "Surely, I shall not."

And surely she has not. Forth with she determined to take the law and her future life into her own hands, and she left her "husband" for ever, without giving him any opportunity to ever even think of her as his wife.

Thus Mme. Blavatsky abandoned her country at seventeen, and passed ten long years in strange and out-of-the-way places, in Central Asia, India, South America, Africa, and Eastern Europe. --1849, Nadyezhda A. de Fadeyev

Mme. Blavatsky with her father and sister had come to St. Petersburg. One night they received a visit from two old friends of their father. Both were anxious to see something.

After a few successful phenomena, the visitors declared themselves positively delighted, amazed and quite at a loss what to make of Mme. Blavatsky's powers.They could neither understand nor account, they said, for her father's indifference in presence of such manifestations. The old gentleman, thus taken to task, answered that it was all bosh and that he would not hear of such nonsense, such occupation being hardly worthy of serious people, he added. There by left the two old gentlemen unconcerned. They began, on the contrary, to insist that Col. Hahn should, for old friendship's sake, make an experiment by writing a word in another room, secretly from all of them, and then asking the raps to repeat it. The old gentleman, proceeding into an adjoining room, wrote a word on a bit of paper, after which conveying it to his pocket, he returned and waited silently, laughing behind his gray moustache.

"What shall you say, old friend, if the word written by you is correctly repeated?"

"What I might say, if the word were correctly guessed, I could not tell at present," he skeptically replied. "One thing I could answer, however, you may prepare to offer me as an inmate of a lunatic asylum."

By the means of raps and alphabet we got one word. To our question, whether it was all, the raps became more energetic in the affirmative. We had several triple raps, which meant in our code—Yes! yes, yes, yes!!!

Remarking our agitation and whispering, Madame B.'s father looked at us over his spectacles, and asked--

"Well! Have you any answer? It must be something very elaborate and profound indeed!"

He arose and, laughing in his moustache, approached us.

"We only got one word."

"And what is it?"

"Zaitchik!"

It was a sight indeed to witness the extraordinary change that came over the old man's face at this one word! He became deadly pale. Adjusting his spectacles with a trembling hand, he stretched it out while hurriedly saying "Let me see it! Hand it over. Is it really so?"

He took the slips of paper, and read in a very agitated voice,--"Zaitchik. Yes, Zaitchik; so it is. How very strange!"

Taking out of his pocket the paper he had written upon in the adjoining room, he handed it in silence to his daughter and guests.

They found on it both the question offered and the answer that was anticipated.The words read thus--

"What was the name of my favorite warhorse, which I rode during my first Turkish campaign?" And lower down, in parenthesis: ("Zaitchik"). --1859, Vera P. de Zhelihovsky

I was once traveling between Baalbek and the river Orontes, and in the desert I saw a caravan. It was Mme. Blavatsky's. We camped together. there was a great monument standing there near the village of Dair Mar Maroon. It was between Lebanon and the Anti-Lebanon [Mountains]. On the monument were inscriptions that no one could ever read. Mm. Blavatsky could do strange things with the spirits, as I knew, and I asked her to find out what the monument was.

We waited until night. She drew a circle and we went in it. We built a fire and put much incense on it. Then she said many spells. Then we put on more incense.Then she pointed with her wand at the monument and we saw a great ball of white flame on it. There was a sycamore tree near by; we saw many little flames on it. The jackals came and howled in the darkness a little way off. We put on more incense. Then Mme. Blavatsky commanded the spirit to appear of the person to whom the monument was reared. Soon a cloud of vapor arose and obscured the little moonlight there was. We put on more incense. The cloud took the in distinct shape of an old man with a beard, and a voice came, as it seemed from a great distance, through the image. He said the monument was once the altar of a temple that had long disappeared. It was reared to a god that had long since gone to another world. "Who are you?" asked Mme. Blavatsky, "I am Hiero, one of the priests of the temple," said the voice. Then Mme. Blavatsky commanded him to show us the place as it was when the temple stood. He bowed, and for one instant we had a glimpse of the temple and of a vast city filling the plain as far as the eye could reach. Then it was gone, and the image faded away. Then we built up big fires to keep off the jackals and went to sleep.-1872, Countess Lydia A. De Pashkov

I remember our first day's acquaintance as if it were yesterday. The dinner hour at Eddy's was noon, and it was from the entrance door of the dining room that Kappes and I first saw HPB. She had arrived shortly before noon with a French Canadian lady, and they were at table as we entered. My eye was first attracted by a scarlet Garibaldian shirt the former wore, as in vivid contrast with the dull colors around. Her hair was then a thick blond mop, worn shorter than the shoulders, and it stood out from her head, silken-soft and crinkled to the roots, like the fleece of a Cotswold ewe. This and the red shirt were what struck my attention before I took in the picture of her features. It was a massive Calmuck face.

All sorts of cranky people were continually coming and going at Eddy's to see the mediumistic phenomena, and it only struck me on seeing this eccentric lady that this was but one more of the sort. Pausing on the doorsill, I whispered to Kappes, "Good gracious! look at that specimen, will you." Dinner over, the two went outside the house and Madame Blavatsky rolled herself a cigarette, for which I gave her a light as a pretext to enter into conversation.

She asked me how long I had been there and what I thought of the phenomena, saying that she herself was greatly interested in such things and had been drawn to Chittenden by reading the letters in the Daily Graphic. "I hesitated before coming here," she said, "because I was afraid of meeting that Colonel Olcott." "Why should you be afraid of him, Madame?" I rejoined. "Oh! because I fear he might write about me in his paper." I told her that she might make herself perfectly easy on that score, for I felt quite sure Col. Olcott would not mention her in his letters unless she wished it. And I introduced myself.

We became friends at once. --1874, Henry S. Olcott

She wrote a considerable part of "Isis Unveiled" in my house at Ithaca, and living constantly with her for these weeks, she continually filled me with amazement and curiosity as to what was coming next. She had a profound knowledge of everything apparently, and her method of work was most unusual.

She would write in bed, from nine o'clock in the morning till two o'clock the following morning, smoking innumerable cigarettes, quoting long verbatim paragraphs from dozens of books of which I am perfectly certain there were no copies at that time in America, translating easily from several languages, and occasionally calling out to me, in my study, to know how to turn some old-world idiom into literary English, for at that time she had not attained the fluency of diction which distinguished the "Secret Doctrine."

She herself told me that she wrote down quotations from books as they appeared in her eyes on another plane of objective existence, that she clearly saw the page of the book and the quotation she needed, and simply translated what she actually saw into English.

The woman was so marvelous and had such mysterious funds of definite knowledge,that I find it much easier to believe her statement than to account for her quotations by any ordinary explanation of memory.

The hundreds of books she quoted were certainly not in my library, many of them not in America, some of them very rare and difficult to get in Europe, and if her quotations were from memory, then it was an even more startling feat than writing them from the ether. The facts are marvelous, and the explanation must necessarily bewilder those whose consciousness is of a more ordinary type.--1875, Hiram Corson

Madame Blavatsky is very justly averse to give manifestations of her occult powers. She rightly holds that if Theosophy cannot assert and maintain its authority by the soundness and beneficence of its principles, it would be idle to try to bolster it up by the exhibition of phenomena which, unless cause and effect are thoroughly understood, might be construed into vulgar conjuring tricks. She wishes that the science with whose promotion she has so thoroughly identified herself should stand or fall on its own merits. It is her hope that men of education and intelligence will make Theosophy the object of careful and scientific study. If the science does not fulfill the promises it holds out, it will be easy for a student to give up the study when he finds his expectations disappointed. --1882, Norendro Nath Sen

A curious happening which has never been effaced from my memory took place in the early part of HPB's stay with us. Many people at that time wished to get into communication with the Masters through HPB, and would sometimes bring letters asking that they should be forwarded to the Masters. HPB always said,"It is not for me to forward the letters; the Masters will take them if They wish," and the letters were put into a certain drawer in her room. Sometimes the writers received a message through HPB, very often they did not; but the drawer was kept open. One day Mr. Sinnett had something he wished to ask of Master KH, and that letter also was placed in the drawer. More than a week passed and there was no answer, and I was grieved, for we all desired that the questions should be answered. Day after day I looked into the drawer, but the letter was still there.

One morning at about 7.30 I went in to HPB (I always went to her room the first thing); I found her at her table, writing as usual, and I said to her, "How much I wish that letter could be taken." She looked very straight at me and said,"Bring me the letter," in rather a severe tone. I gave the letter into her hand.There was a candle on the table and "Light the candle," she said; then giving me the letter, she said, "Burn the letter." I felt rather sorry to burn Mr.Sinnett's letter but, of course, did as she said. "Now go to your room and meditate." I went up to my room at the top of the house. I went to the window,which looked on to a beautiful garden with lovely trees. Before the window there was a box, covered with a pink cloth, and I stood there for a minute or two wondering what HPB meant and what I was to meditate on.

In a few minutes I cast my eyes down on the pink cloth, and in the middle of the cloth there was a letter which either I had not noticed before or which had not been there. I took up the envelope and looked at it, and found there was no address on it; it was quite blank, but it contained a thickness of paper and I concluded it was a letter. I held it in my hand and looked at it once or twice,and still finding the envelope without name or address, I felt sure it must be something occult and wondered for whom it could be. At length I decided to take the letter to HPB, and looking at it once again saw, in the clear writing of the Master KH, Mr. Sinnett's name. That the name had not been on it at the beginning I am sure, nor during the many times when I looked at it most carefully. The letter was an answer to the one I had burnt. --1884, Francesca Arundale

"What is Theosophy, Madame?" I asked. "Do you call it a religion?"

"Most distinctly not," she replied, "there are too many religions in the world already. I don't propose to add to the number."

"What, may I ask, is the Theosophical attitude towards these too numerous religions?"

Madame Blavatsky there upon entered upon a long and interesting explanation on this subject, from which I gathered that Theosophy looks upon all religions as good in one sense, and all religions as bad in another sense. There are truths underlying all, and there are falsities overlying all. Most faiths are good at the core, all are more or less wrong in their external manifestations. --1888, London Star

I persuaded her to go with me to a photographer. What a day! Wind and rain and scurries of autumn leaves. She had no out-of-door clothes. Everything was given away as soon as brought to her.

Unaccustomed to go out, she would not move. "You want my death. I cannot step on the wet stones." Shawls, scarfs, fur were piled on. A sort of Russian turban tied over her head with a veil. Rugs spread from door to carriage. I raised the umbrella over her head and helped her in.

There disembarkation even more terrible! They don't unroll red carpets in Regent Street for nothing. "Come along, Your Majesty!" I said to keep up the illusion.

Once up the stairs, she flatly refused to have her photograph taken. She was notan actress. What had I brought her to such a place for? Finally she was held, as I knew she would be, by the story of Van der Weyde's own experiments in the adaptation of electricity to photography.

"I will sit for you--only one--be quick--take me just as I am."

I bent over her and whispered, "Now let all the devil in you shine out of those eyes."

"Why, child, there is no devil in me."

She laughed, and we got the famous likeness. She was pleased with it. I was not. She is there, but not all of her. I would have wished something at her writing table--taken by chance--in the long folds of her seamless garment--vibrations of light all around. She really enjoyed the adventure I think, for she told of being "bossed" and "carried as a bundle" for a long time, especially of the"Come along, your Majesty." --1888, Edmund Russell

There are those who imagine that because they can crack a joke about a teacup,they have disposed of Theosophy. Madame Blavatsky, they say, "was an impostor, a vulgar fraud. She was exposed by the Coulombs, shown up by the Psychical Research Society." They say all that, no doubt, but when all that is said and more besides, the problem of the personality of the woman remains full of interest, and even of wonder, to those who look below the surface of things.

Madame Blavatsky was a great woman. She was huge in body; and in her character, alike in its strength and weakness, there was something of the Rabelaisian gigantesque. But if she had all the nodosity of the oak, she was not without its strength; and if she had the contortions of the Sibyl, she possessed somewhat of her inspiration.

Of Madame Blavatsky the wonder-worker I knew nothing; I did not go to her seeking signs, and most assuredly no sign was given. She neither doubled a teacup in my presence nor did she even cause the familiar raps to be heard. All these manifestations seemed as the mere trivialities, the shavings, as it were, thrown off from the beam of cedar wood which she was fashioning as one of the pillars in the Temple of Truth. I do not remember ever referring to them in our conversation, and it is slightly incomprehensible to me how any one can gravely contend that they constitute her claim to respect.

What Madame Blavatsky did was an immeasurably greater thing than the doubling of teacups. She made it possible for some of the most cultivated and skeptical men and women of this generation to believe--believe ardently, to an extent that made them proof against ridicule and disdainful of persecution--that not only does the invisible world that encompasses us contain Intelligences vastly superior to our own in knowledge of the Truth, but that it is possible for man to enter into communion with these hidden and silent ones, and to be taught of them the Divine mysteries of Time and of Eternity. --1888, William T. Stead

I have often heard Blavatsky called a charlatan, and I am bound to say that her impish behavior often gave grounds for this description. She was foolishly intolerant of the many smart West End ladies who arrived in flocks, demanding to see spooks, masters, elementals, anything, in fact, in the way of phenomena.

Madame Blavatsky was a born conjuror. Her wonderful fingers were made for jugglers' tricks, and I have seen her often use them for that purpose. I well remember my amazement upon the first occasion on which she exhibited her occult powers, spurious and genuine.

I was sitting alone with her one afternoon, when the cards of Jessica, Lady Sykes, the late Duchess of Montrose and the Honorable Mrs. S------ (stillliving) were brought in to her. She said she would receive the ladies at once,and they were ushered in. They explained that they had heard of her new religion and her marvelous occult powers. They hoped she would afford them a little exhibition of what she could do.

Madame Blavatsky had not moved out of her chair. She was suavity itself, and whilst conversing, she rolled cigarettes for her visitors and invited them to smoke. She concluded that they were not particularly interested in the old faith which the young West called new; what they really were keen about was phenomena.

That was so, responded the ladies, and the burly Duchess inquired if Madame ever gave racing tips or lucky numbers for Monte Carlo?

 

Madame disclaimed having any such knowledge, but she was willing to afford them a few moments' amusement. Would one of the ladies suggest something she would like done?

 

Lady Sykes produced a pack of cards from her pocket and held them out to Madame Blavatsky, who shook her head.

 

"First remove the marked cards," she said.

Lady Sykes laughed and replied, "Which are they?"

Madame Blavatsky told her, without a second's hesitation. This charmed the ladies. It seemed a good beginning.

"Make that basket of tobacco jump about," suggested one of them.

The next moment the basket had vanished. I don't know where it went, I only know it disappeared by trickery, that the ladies looked for it everywhere, even under Madame Blavatsky's ample skirts, and that suddenly it reappeared upon its usual table. A little more jugglery followed and some psychometry, which was excellent, then the ladies departed, apparently well satisfied with the entertainment.

When I was once more alone with Madame Blavatsky, she turned to me with a wry smile and said, "Would you have me throw pearls before swine?"

I asked her if all she had done was pure trickery.

"Not all, but most of it," she unblushingly replied. "But now I will give you something lovely and real."

For a moment or two she was silent, covering her eyes with her hand, then a sound caught my ear. I can only describe what I heard as fairy music, exquisitely dainty and original. It seemed to proceed from somewhere just between the floor and the ceiling, and it moved about to different corners of the room. There was a crystal innocence in the music, which suggested the dance of joyous children at play.

"Now I will give you the music of life," said Madame Blavatsky.

For a moment or two there fell a trance-like silence. The twilight was creeping into the room and seemed to bring with it a tingling expectancy. Then it seemed to me that something entered from without and brought with it utterly new conditions, something incredible, unimagined, and beyond the bounds of reason.It spoke the secrets which the nature myth so often murmurs to those who live amid great silences, of those dread mysteries of the spirit which yet invest it with such glory and wonderment. --1888, Violet Tweedale

A pause, a swift passing through hall and outer room, through folding doors thrown back, a figure in a large chair before a table, a voice, vibrant,compelling. "My dear Mrs. Besant, I have so long wished to see you," and I wasstanding with my hand in her firm grip, and looking for the first time in this life straight into the eyes of HPB. I was conscious of a sudden leaping forth of my heart--was it recognition?--and then, I am ashamed to say, a fierce rebellion, a fierce withdrawal, as of some wild animal when it feels a mastering hand. I sat down, after some introductions that conveyed no ideas to me, and listened. She talked of travels, of various countries, easy brilliant talk, her eyes veiled, her exquisitely molded fingers rolling cigarettes incessantly. Nothing special to record, no word of occultism, nothing mysterious, a woman of the world chatting with her evening visitors. We rose to go, and for a moment the veil lifted, and two brilliant, piercing eyes met mine, and with a yearning throb in the voice: "Oh, my dear Mrs. Besant, if you would only come among us!" I felt a well-nigh uncontrollable desire to bend down and kiss her, under the compulsion of that yearning voice, those compelling eyes, but with a flash of the old unbending pride and an inward jeer at my own folly, I said a commonplace polite good-bye, and turned away with some inanely courteous and evasive remarks. "Child," she said to me long afterwards, "your pride is terrible; you are as proud as Lucifer himself." --1889, Annie Besant

Perfect--no; faults--yes; the one thing she would hate most of all would be the indiscriminate praise of her personality. But when I have said that she was sometimes impetuous as a whirlwind, a very cyclone when she was really roused, I have told nearly all. And I have often thought it was more than possible that some of these outbursts were assumed for a special object. Her enemies sometimes said she was rough and rude. We who knew her knew that a more unconventional woman, in the very realest sense of the word, never lived. Her absolute indifference to all outward forms was a true indifference based upon her inner spiritual knowledge of the verities of the universe. Sitting by her when strangers came, as they did come from every corner of the earth, I have often watched with the keenest amusement their wonder at seeing a woman who always said what she thought. Given a prince and she would probably shock him; given a poor man and he would have her last shilling and her kindliest word. --1889, Herbert Burrows

HPB and the Lansdowne Road household moved into Mrs. Besant's house in Avenue Road. A lecture hall had been added to the house (a large detached one, standing in a garden) for the meetings of the Blavatsky Lodge, both public and private.She did not appear as frequently as was the case at Lansdowne Road. Failing health had much to say to this, but she would sometimes be present at the Lodge meetings. On such occasions her presence was both an inspiration and a "terror." Once, when Mrs. Besant was in the chair, and a rather lengthy and stupid paper was being read, the whole room could hear HPB's stage whisper of agonized appeal: "Oh stop her, Annie--stop her!" --1890, Alice L. Cleather

My first intimation of HPB's death was received by me "telepathically" from herself, and this was followed by a second similar message. The third I got from one of the reporters present at my closing lecture in Sydney, who told me, as I was about leaving the platform, that a press message had come from London announcing her decease. In my diary entry for 9th May, 1891, I say: "Had an uneasy foreboding of HPB's death." In that of the following day it is written:"This morning I feel that HPB is dead." The last entry for that day say s"Cablegram, HPB dead." Only those who saw us together, and knew of the close mystical tie between us, can understand the sense of bereavement that came over me upon receipt of the direful news. --1891, Henry S. Olcott

 

Madame Blavatsky held that the regeneration of mankind must be based upon the development of altruism. In this she was at one with the greatest thinkers, not alone of the present day, but of all time.

 

No one in the present generation has done more towards reopening the long sealed treasures of Eastern thought, wisdom, and philosophy. No one certainly has done so much towards elucidating that profound wisdom-religion and bringing into the light those ancient literary works whose scope and depth have so astonished the Western world. Her own knowledge of Oriental philosophy and esotericism was comprehensive. The lesson which was constantly impressed by her was assuredly that which the world most needs, and has always needed, namely the necessity of subduing self and of working for others.

Madame Blavatsky has made her mark upon the time, and thus, too, her works will follow her. Some day, if not at once, the loftiness and purity of her aims, the wisdom and scope of her teachings, will be recognized more fully, and her memory will be accorded the honor to which it is justly entitled. --1891, New YorkTribune

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Daniel Caldwell, M.L.S., is a historical researcher and worldwide authority on H. P. Blavatsky's life and work, having collected documents on the subject for thirty years. The Esoteric World of Madame Blavatsky is compiled by Daniel Caldwell.
Also a professional Web page designer, he lives in Tucson, Arizona.

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