Entering the Garden of Theosophy

By Mary Anderson

Originally printed in the SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER 2007 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Anderson, Mary. "Entering the Garden of Theosophy." Quest  95.5 (SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER 2007):

Theosophical Society - Mary Anderson was International Secretary of the Theosophical Society. She is a former Vice-President of the Society, was for many years Secretary of the European Federation of the TS and lectured widely for the Society in many countries and in several languages. She also contributed many articles to The Theosophist, the international journal of the TS.

 It is often said that the two pillars of the Theosophical Society are universal brotherhood and freedom of thought. Universal brotherhood implies love towards all. Such brotherly love should—but does not always—exist between brothers and sisters or in a family in general. And freedom of thought should ultimately imply wisdom.

The root of universal brotherhood lies in the origin of humanity, indeed of all kingdoms of nature. All beings, even all things that exist, have one single origin, just as brothers and sisters in a family have the same parents. Love is something that draws us together, that draws us back to the Oneness from which we came and for which we yearn, whether we realize it or not.

When we consider the other pillar of the Theosophical Society, freedom of thought, does there seem to be a contradiction between the two pillars? Certainly, agreement with others, the harmony of minds, may deepen friendship. Great minds are said to think alike. On the other hand, a brilliant intellect may seduce others, including those who are too lazy to think for themselves. We should have an open mind on the one hand, but on the other hand we should not simply swallow impressive ideas but think things out for ourselves, come to our own conclusions.

What prevents our thought from being free? There have been and still are times and places where freedom of thought has been and still is suppressed. I was once asked in all seriousness what the difference is between the Theosophical Society and the Communist Party, since they both believe in brotherhood. In reply, I could only think of a rather strongly-worded saying in German: "If you refuse to be my brother, I'll break your skull!" So freedom of thought may be suppressed from outside. But it may be suppressed through our own fault, if we are too lazy to think or afraid to draw certain conclusions, especially if such conclusions might show us up in a negative light or if they seem in contradiction with the other pillar of the Theosophical Society, brotherhood. Indeed, sometimes brotherhood and freedom of thought may seem to pull in opposite directions, but is it not possible to respect different opinions in others and feel brotherly towards them? Can we be together differently?

It may sometimes be a fine art to keep the two pillars of the Theosophical Society in balance—a living, flexible balance, supporting the keystone which is the Theosophical Society. The two pillars and the keystone together form the gateway leading to the garden of Theosophy, which does not mean that there are not other gateways leading there. Is it not up to us to support the Society by maintaining the fine balance between brotherhood and freedom of thought, so that the Society remains a strong living entity and fulfills its function as a gateway?

If we enter the garden of Theosophy, what do we find? A garden creates a beautiful environment. Gardens have inspired poets with religious feelings:

A garden is a lovesome thing, God wot!
Rose plot,
Fringed pool,
Ferned grot—
The veriest school
Of peace, and yet the fool
Contends that God is not.
Not God! In gardens! When the eve is cool?
Nay, but I have a sign,
Tis very sure God walks in mine.

—Thomas Edward Brown

Many Christian and Buddhist monasteries are famous for their gardens. Even a little plant can inspire us. There is the story of a Scottish shepherd, who loved Nature but was obliged to spend the winter in town, doing manual labor. He had, in the little attic room that he rented, a daisy in a pot which he tended with loving care. For him the daisy represented the countryside and all the plants which he so missed.

A garden may seem an appropriate symbol for Theosophy, the Divine Wisdom. If we enter through the gateway of the Theosophical Society, supported by its two pillars, brotherhood and freedom of thought, this implies that we enter with a loving heart and a free mind, free from dogmatism and superstition—at least we may hope so! But what do we find in that garden? What do we look for and find in any garden? Those living beings called plants: trees, flowers, grass and what is needed for plant life: earth, water, air and, above all, sunlight.

Symbolically, may it not be that we are the plants, growing in the garden of Theosophy? We need earth, water, air, and sunlight, not only physically, but also in the sense that these may be symbols for aspects of our being. In other words, we need physical matter and a physical body with which we act, symbolized by earth; we need the finer matter, sometimes called "astral," symbolized by water, to express our feelings and which we model with our emotions, our desires; and we need the still finer mental matter, symbolized by air, expressing our thoughts and which we model with these thoughts. But what we need above all and what we always have, although not consciously, is the Divine Light of Spirit, symbolized by sunlight. We are then those plants, nurtured by our good actions, our love, our thoughts arising in freedom and our spiritual nature.

A garden needs to be tended. Thus we should tend the plants that we are. We should ensure that our bodies are fed with healthy pure food, produced without harm to any creature, so that they are strong and healthy for useful activity. Our emotions should be nurtured with the pure water of kind and harmonious feelings, expressing compassion and love. We should keep our minds open to pure and healthy air and not let them be either in the doldrums or swept away by the hurricanes of sensation, so that we can think in an orderly, free, and impersonal manner. And we should never forget that in our inmost being we are spirit, we are part of the ONE life of all, we are that life.

Symbols can, however, mean different things and the plants in our garden may also symbolize Theosophy. But what is meant by Theosophy? There is what has been called Primary Theosophy and what has been called Secondary Theosophy. Most of us may think of Theosophy in the first place as a teaching, as a philosophy, as a wonderful metaphysical system which explains so many puzzling things, so many problems in life. But Theosophy as a teaching, however wonderful, helpful, and enlightening has been called merely Secondary Theosophy.

What then is Primary Theosophy? It is Theosophy in action, Theosophy in us, in our lives. And only when we apply theosophical teachings in daily life can we really be said to have understood those teachings, not just with the mind, but with our whole being, so that our life is transformed. Thus we become loving, indeed ultimately totally unselfish, selfless, we become wise and also efficient because, if we are really unselfish, we are free from those selfish desires which ordinarily vitiate our feelings, our thoughts, and even our actions. Then we shall understand theosophical teachings at a deeper level, not just in theory, but also and above all in practice. Thus it has been said: "Live the life and you will come to the Wisdom."

Theosophical teachings are like a seed which is planted. Such a seed may symbolize Secondary Theosophy. And Primary Theosophy, a really theosophical life, is the flower in which the plant reaches the apotheosis of its beauty. Moreover, it is the resultant fruit which will nourish others, and the seed which will be planted and will spread Theosophy, not only as a teaching, but as a way of life. We are that flower, that fruit, that seed. This is Primary Theosophy. The example of a theosophical life is contagious. How many TS members do we meet who tell us that their first or decisive contact with Theosophy was not a book, but a person—not a perfect person, but one whose life had also been transformed by Theosophy?

But let us look at Secondary Theosophy, Theosophy as a teaching, as a philosophy. What are the fundamentals of theosophical teachings? There may be different presentations, but both Madame Blavatsky and Dr. Besant pointed to three fundamental teachings which can transform people's lives: the Unity of all Life, Reincarnation, and Karma. So these may be the seeds planted as Secondary Theosophy.

Let us first take the Unity of all Life. Every plant originates in a tiny seed. That seed comes from another plant, which grew from another seed. The image of a seed is indeed used in the Chandogya Upanishad by a father explaining to his son what his true nature is: The invisible essence within one tiny seed is the origin of a great tree, representing the whole universe, and that tiny seed, that origin—"That art thou." If we go back far enough in thought, we may realize that we are all physically related. It is a staggering thought. Still more staggering is the thought that that Oneness which we share with others is our true nature as well as that of all human beings, indeed of all living creatures—and everything is alive.

Reincarnation is illustrated in the apparent "death" of plants in winter and their "rebirth" in spring, which, if we really consider it, may strike us as a wonder. The concept of reincarnation may banish the fear of death. Indeed, it may show us the necessity of death, again by analogy with plant life: "Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone, but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit" (St. John 12:24).

The law of Karma is illustrated by St. Paul in the words: "Be not deceived, God is not mocked; for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap" (Galatians 6:7). We find their echo in the words of The Light of Asia:

That which ye sow ye reap. See yonder fields!
The sesamum was sesamum, the corn Was corn. The Silence and the Darkness knew!
So is a man's fate born.
He cometh, reaper of the things he sowed,
Sesamum, corn, so much cast in past birth;
And so much weed and poison-stuff, which mar
Him and the aching earth.
If he shall labour rightly, rooting these,
And planting wholesome seedlings where they grew,
Fruitful and fair and clean the ground shall be,
And rich the harvest due.

And above all—above Secondary Theosophy, the seed planted in the earth, and above Primary Theosophy, the flower, the fruit, and again the seed, that is, what we make of that seed—there shines the sun of Theosophy, the Divine Wisdom.

In a temple garden in the East belong lotus flowers, which again are highly symbolic: symbols of the constitution of a human being and of his or her growth into spirituality, into becoming what one is. The lotus flower has its roots in the earth, in the mud at the bottom of the lotus pond, representing the physical body. Its stem rises up through the water, symbolizing the emotions, it rises higher through the air—a symbol of our minds, our thoughts—and finally the flower of the lotus opens out in the sunshine of spirit. Thus our consciousness, being at first concentrated in the physical body, then at the level of our emotions, then of our thoughts, ultimately finds its destination in the sunshine of spirit.

The trees, also adorning the garden, have their symbolic meaning. We come across the Tree of Life in the Nordic tradition: the ash Yggdrasil, the symbol of the world, the tree of the universe, of time and of life. At the beginning of Discourse XV of the Bhagavadgita we read: "With roots above, branches below, the Asvattha (Banyan tree of worldly life) is said to be indestructible . . . ." This is a description of the world in which we live. The roots of that world are in the spiritual world depicted as above. The second verse continues: "Downwards and upwards spread the branches of it, nourished by the guna-s, the objects of the senses its buds; and the roots grow downwards, the bonds of action in the world of men." This seems to be a description of us human beings, living in the world of the objects we perceive by the senses, being subject to the guna-s: indolence, passion, and harmony, and creating Karma by our actions.

There follows a description of how we escape from that world of illusory sense perceptions, the guna-s and the bonds of karma: "This strongly-rooted Asvattha having been cut down by the unswerving weapon of non-attachment, that path beyond may be sought, treading which there is no return. I go indeed to that Primal Man, whence the ancient energy forth-streamed."

Thus we may see in the life of plants interesting symbols of the teachings of Theosophy, useful illustrations of how Theosophy may become alive in us. But such symbols are not only useful instruments for illustration and understanding. The root of a symbol lies in the principle of analogy, which reveals the same process at work in different circumstances, at different levels. Does not the analogy of a garden also recall to us that the same laws are operative everywhere?

In conclusion, we need only to listen to the world around us to hear that message reflected in the words of I. Hoskins:

As is the Inner, so is the Outer, as is the Great, so is the Small; as it is above, so it is below; there is but ONE LIFE AND LAW; and he that worketh it is ONE. (The Secret Doctrine and its Study, quoted in Foundations of Esoteric Philosophy, 65-6)


Explorations: The Awakening Is at Hand

By Christine Pomeroy

Originally printed in the MAY-JUNE 2006 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Pomeroy, Christine. "Explorations: The Awakening Is at Hand." Quest  94.3 (MAY-JUNE 2006):108-109.

Theosophical Society - Christine Pomeroy has been a member of Theosophical Society for ten years, and is currently employed at the Theosophical Publishing House. Her interest in metaphysics has focused on dream interpretation, pine wisdom, and the consciousness of Christ. This is her first contribution to Quest.

Everything you need to know is within you. Dreams are a gift. They open the door to the inner light. Dreams are a valuable tool to assist with daily questions. They reveal answers and offer understanding. During sleep, we are able to rest the physical body, while the mental body plays out the issues at hand. Dreams provide the healing, strength and insight necessary to cope with life's challenges and times of crisis. What is needed is provided at the most perfect time, and in the most perfect way. But it is also important to ask, and especially to listen

For those who listen, dreams can forewarn of events yet to come. But you must be able to discern the difference between being warned and working out a waking problem. For example, if you dream of changes occurring at your place of employment, you could interpret the meaning as either relating to changes taking place inside of you or changes that are soon to come at work, thus preparing the waking body for the changes at hand.

Interpreting dreams can be complex. Understanding a given dream is best left up to the dreamer. What may be understandable for you, does not necessarily place well for another. To the average person, dreaming of a house would represent areas to move through in daily activities. But to someone growing spiritually, a house may symbolize the consciousness and areas not yet discovered. The overall theme of a house represents the areas and levels of the mind. The idea is to keep moving through the house and open up the mind to new avenues of consciousness.

Dreaming of a kitchen could be symbolic of nourishing the self with spiritual food, i.e., wisdom, light, truth. But for another individual, the kitchen may be a literal warning about what one needs to change in terms of diet. Thus, the same dream theme for two different people does not have the same meaning. Once again such a dream interpretation is best left up to you to work out for yourself. Think about the dream. Work it out in your thoughts. Talk it out with the self. The revelation of the meaning will soon come in hand, if you are patient and persistent.

With all dreams, the use of symbols is for us to piece together like a puzzle; life in and of itself gives signs and symbols everyday. Pay attention to signs in everyday activities, during your waking hours. Sometimes the answer comes in other ways. For example, one such sign would be repeatedly hearing the same song on the radio. Listen to the lyrics for an answer. Our angels have a way of communicating to us through music. Another example would be seeing a bird not common to your area. A white dove would be symbolic of peace and love as well as purity. Smelling scents of perfume, flowers or incense might coincide with a person or event to come. The list goes on. It is up to us to see and look within for complete understanding. With time, patience and practice, you will put together your own puzzle. And as the picture becomes clearer, you will be most happy with what you see.

Over the years, I have found that the more you grow towards the light within, the greater the dreams that are given. Our state of mind plays a big role in the dreams that come to us. The more turbulent our life is, the more turbulent our dreams are. The more peaceful we are, of course the more peaceful our dreams become. That which you are, and focus on, is what comes to you during the hours of sleep. Think upon these things.

Remembering dreams can be difficult at times due to the hurried lifestyles we all live. Once you are in a receptive frame of mind, you must be patient in order to receive answers. To start recalling dreams, keep asking the same question before going to sleep. I find that more answers come to me in dreams when I take short naps. Choose a comfortable position, ideally with the head facing north, and ask the body to wake within one hour. The body will listen.

To further your growth in recalling dreams, as well as interpreting them, write down questions that you would like to receive answers for, and follow up with recording the dreams. If you are patient and persistent, the answers will come eventually. Be sure to notice feelings and thoughts that you have when awakening from sleep. These will also guide you to that which you seek.

Clear memories of dreams will increase as you grow spiritually. We are all spiritual in our own way. Today, many of us are striving for a deeper sense of connection and meaning in life. The answer is within. Each of us is on our own path in life: yet we are reaching for the same goal, the Light Consciousness within. The more you come to see the truth within, the more you discover how much there is to know. Nothing more will be revealed to you than you can handle at this moment in time.

Through dreams, we can all gain a more perfect understanding of our relationships with those in our lives, as well as God within ourselves. And, as our minds become nearer to that God-Consciousness within, the greater will be the visions and dreams that come will be . Interpret them in your own language and understanding, for when you do so, the awakening is at hand.

To further aid you in understanding of dreams, I recommend Dreams Your Magic Mirror by Elsie Sechrist (A.R.E. Press, 1995) and The Dream Dictionary by Jo Jean Boushahla and Virginia Reidel Geubtner (Berkley Publishing Group, 1993)


Christine Pomeroy has been a member of Theosophical Society for ten years, and is currently employed at the Theosophical Publishing House. Her interest in metaphysics has focused on dream interpretation, pine wisdom, and the consciousness of Christ. This is her first contribution to Quest.

 

 

 


"Boids," the Group Soul, and Universal Brotherhood

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.

Theosophical Society - George M. Young is a Fellow at the Center for Global Humanities at the University of New England. He is the author of The Russian Cosmists: The Esoteric Futurism of Nikolai Fedorov and His Followers (Oxford University Press, 2012).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.


Of Parts, Footprints, and Stars: John Sellon

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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