Quest Magazine

By Lowell Thomas

Originally printed in the JULY-AUGUST 2007 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Thomas, Lowell."An Irish High Priestess in India." Quest  95.4 (JULY-AUGUST 2007): 131-133, 139.

This article is adapted from chapter ten of Lowell Thomas' book India: Land of the Black Pagoda, originally published in 1930. Some changes were made from British to American grammar to improve readability; otherwise this description is presented in its original form, reflecting the language, social structure, and customs of the times. Today, Madras is known as Chennai and Bombay is called Mumbai. Thomas had thought he would spend a month or two in India. Instead, he stayed for two years, leaving only when finances ran out, not because he wanted to. His guide as he traveled though India was not a native, but an Englishman, Major Francis Yeats-Brown, nicknamed Y. B., the author of The Lives of a Bengal Lancer.

Madras is the doyen of the British cities of the East Indies, dignified, delightful, and "somehow different." The black Tamil men with their long, straight hair gathered in a bunch at the top of their heads, carry umbrellas and fulfill to a nicety one's notions of the mild Hindu. The less opulent Tamils have noses like the beaks of birds. Their cheekbones are sharp. Their elbows are sharp. Their knees are sharp. Their bodies are mostly vein and bone, minus muscle and meat. They chew betel-nut which makes their teeth black and their lips red. They drink rice toddy, which makes them forget, temporarily, the nightmare that their lives must be.

But high-caste Madrasi people and prosperous untouchables become sleek in appearance and oval in shape, especially the women. Their dress consists of a long strip of cloth draped gracefully about the figure, showing their perfectly molded torsos from hip to breast like a column of burnished copper. They are hung, and placqued [covered], and laden with gold. If Ghengis Khan had seen the population of Madras nobody could have restrained him.

The burra sahibs, the captains of industry of Madras, are contentedly rich. They haven't the money-fever of Calcutta or Bombay. Every white man in Madras lives like a gentleman, with a "flivver" and a share in a sailing yacht. It is a city of great distances and a great many clubs. The Madras Club is one of the finest in Asia and their sheep's-head curry is a dish for Lucullus. Then if Lucullus desires he may repair to the Golf Club to correct his liver.

There also is a boat club, a gymkhana club, and the Adyar Club. What with bathing, boating, tennis, polo, golf, dancing, and dining at his five clubs, the "white man's burden" is very cheerfully borne here.

Every traveler should pay a visit to the Victoria Institute, where he will find excellent and moderately priced examples of the indigenous industries of a province where master craftsmen survive and art is still a living reality. Every province has now an exhibition of arts and crafts, but none is better managed than that of Madras.

The climate of Madras is certainly sticky, but it has never, during our three visits, been so bad as the orchid-house moisture of Bombay. There is plenty to see. Georgetown, Elihu Yale's church, the Cathedral of St. Tomo [St.Thomas], and the High Court, built in the Hindu-Saracenic style of thirty years ago, are all "worthy of inspection," as the painstaking guide-book says.

But it is at evening on the Adyar that the true spirit of the city speaks. The rippling river, the graceful palms against the evening sky, the cool breeze from the sea, the greenness, the peace of this suburb, are unrivaled in any of the great cities of India. The traveler will like Madras although he may not fancy Bombay and Calcutta, the other two presidency cities.

By a window overlooking the Adyar River sits an aged woman with silvery white hair. She sits cross-legged, in Eastern fashion, on a masnad [a small ceremonial rug]. Behind her is an embroidered bolster. Over the masnad is spread a Persian rug. She is dressed in white shawls with a border of royal purple, and the surroundings are as unmistakably Indian as her appearance is Irish.

Why does she sit here, like an Eastern queen? The answer to this question is a romance difficult to parallel in this materialistic age. This woman, who has long passed threescore years and ten, is an authoress, editor, orator, political leader, and the head of a religious movement whose forty thousand adherents are to be found in every quarter of the world.

As an authoress she has made her mark wherever the wisdom of the East is studied. As an editor, she has, through her paper, New India, a faithful public. As an orator she holds great audiences wherever she goes. Among the learned bodies she has addressed is the grave and ancient Sorbonne. As a political leader she has bitter enemies, and followers who idolize her. More than half a century ago, when scarcely out of her teens, she was the wife of an Anglican clergyman. She became a Roman Catholic, and left him. Then she became an agnostic and for several years worked in close association with the English reformer, Charles Bradlaugh. During this time she was an energetic materialist. Then she met Madame Blavatsky, the Russian spiritualist, and with characteristic courage threw her old opinions overboard. From earnestly believing nothing she came to believe almost everything, with equal enthusiasm! She gave up her work in London, where she had gained a reputation as an able speaker and a trenchant writer on social problems, and sailed for the East. From that time she has been a loyal disciple of Blavatsky.

In India she had to make her life anew. First she settled in Benares. Later she moved to Madras, and on Colonel Olcott's death she was elected the second president of the Theosophical Society, a post which she has held from that day to this, having been twice reelected.

This is her life-story in baldest outline. To tell of her trials and successes, of her friends and enemies, would need a volume. She is Irish and—saving her presence—she enjoys a fight. But she wouldn't admit this for a moment. Always she tries to turn the other cheek, but at times the ancient Eve will out. . . . She is a very gentle lady. There is nothing small about her. She never did a mean thing in her life, we feel quite sure.

Of the wisdom of her activities there has been much question; of the purity of her motives, none. Nor can her ability be disputed, even by her enemies, of whom she has aplenty. Annie Besant is a world-figure.

At a time when big-whiskered undergraduates were wondering whether they dared follow Newman or not, a little slip of a girl (oh, the madman her husband must have been not to realize the treasure he held!), brought up in sheltered surroundings, gave up home and faith and husband, to follow the light of Truth, as she saw it. She had hardly any money. She earned her living by writing for the newspapers. Through slough of despond and over uplands of hope she followed the light she saw, until at last, after many ups and downs, it has brought her here, to Adyar.

She is a tireless worker. When the Indian dawn is breaking over the Bay of Bengal, she is to be found sitting here just as we found her, cross-legged, surrounded by her work, writing, planning, dealing with the letters her secretary brings her, giving instructions to the officers of the Theosophical Society, giving advice to aspirants to the "kingly wisdom" and "kingly mystery," administering affairs that not only circle the earth, but "step from star to star."

Mrs. Besant has none of the false modesty of the unknown. She has seen too much of the world to object to facing the camera. Yet she has none of the airs of a high priestess, none of the moods of a mystic. She is simple and direct, a person of singular charm. Her favorite mottoes probably are: "For God, for King and Country," and "There is No Religion Higher than Truth": for these two adorn the walls of her room. Every one who knows her, not Theosophists only, will tell you that she has lived these ideals throughout her strenuous and striking career. Among her followers (many of whom, by the way, believe her to be an incarnation of the famous Italian philosopher, Giordano Bruno) she is believed to be rather a despot (and they surely need to be galvanized with the fear of God occasionally, for like all such bodies this one contains a proportion of people that the world would call cranks, or something harsher), but to us outsiders, she is a delightful, soft-spoken, cultured old lady. And in her bright brown eyes there is a hidden fire.

The objects of Mrs. Besant's colony at Adyar, and of Theosophists at large, are described to us as both spiritual and practical. The spiritual side is rather difficult to explain in a paragraph, but briefly it is (a) to promote the brotherhood of man, (b) to study comparative religion and philosophy, and (c) to explore the hidden powers latent in man. Practically, members can believe what they like. They can be Hindus or Holy Rollers, Buddhists or Baptists. "There is a good deal of difference of opinion on matters of doctrine," said Mrs. Besant, "and I think that this is a very healthy sign. Unless we have differences of opinion on matters of doctrine we shall inevitably become a church or sect. It is not our business to become either, for we are a society of students, and if all students agree there will be a very poor advance."

But the common denominator for the average Theosophist seems to be a belief in Karma. Karma is "the good law," whereby every action in this world has its inevitable consequence, or reaction. In other words, in this life or succeeding lives, each shall reap as he has sown. Gradually through the experience of countless births, the soul learns the lessons of Karma and attains to the "kingly wisdom and the kingly mystery of the unborn, undying, unbegun." It then leaves the earth, to seek expression in some other flesh. . . .

As to the inner or esoteric section, their beliefs may be crudely summarized as follows, by outsiders who are not initiated into their secrets: Each age of the world, from the æon-long past of the Lemurians, who lived on the banks of the Mediterranean, and the Atlanteans, whose civilization sank beneath the ocean waves in far centuries of geologic time, has had a Manu, or typical Man, who sets the example to humanity for the race that is to come and strikes the keynote of its religion. The Manu of this age, say these Theosophists, is the Lord Gautama Buddha. But they believe the world to be now on the threshold of a new age. The new world-teacher, the successor to Buddha, is soon to come, to give light and leading to the world. The day of the Messiah is at hand. Already a herald of the great teacher has come in the body of a Brahmin youth, young Krishnamurti, known to the elect as "Alcyone." His is a thoughtful, beautiful face, with the eyes of a mystic.

A gentle-voiced American, in horn-rimmed glasses, takes us to see the practical work that the Theosophists are doing in Adyar. His costume, consisting of a purple skull-cap, a white shirt worn with the tail out, and a white loincloth, makes it difficult for us to believe that he was a resident of Madison, Wisconsin, not long ago, and an instructor in the university there. All the Occidentals at Adyar—British, American, French, Scandinavians, and others—adopt the cool and comfortable garments of Hindustan. Many have taken high university degrees in Europe, but they wear dhoties none the less.

On our way to the Theosophical Publishing House, we pass Mrs. Besant's Rolls-Royce-the gift of an Indian maharajah-waiting to take her to the city offices of her daily paper, New India. At the Publishing House we see learned Sanskrit works, and well-bound books in English, which are being distributed to the four points of the compass. We continue our stroll around the two hundred and sixty acres of the domain, which contains some two hundred Theosophists. We pass Leadbeater Chambers: the Seva Ashrama, which is the headquarters of the Order of the Brothers of Service—a sort of corps d'eite of Theosophists, vowed to poverty and obedience, and numbering twenty-five members who have renounced all worldly possessions to work for their order: the Annie Zoroastrian Home: Miss Bell's bungalow: the Olcott bungalow, where the first president lived: the Masonic Temple: the workshop: the power-house: the dairy and students' quarters, where a successful agricultural school has been started: and the Vasanta Press, where a monthly and a weekly magazine and many books are printed.

Then back to headquarters. Still we have seen nothing of education. The society maintains five schools in England, three in Scotland, and a thousand pupils in Ceylon. Locally, the Olcott-Panchama schools were pioneers in the work of educating the depressed classes of Madras Presidency and continue to do an immense amount of good.

There are some fifteen hundred branches of Theosophists scattered throughout the world. Even Iceland has its lodge, named "Jolabladid." In Java a group of devout Dutchmen meet for the purpose of promoting "abstinence from gambling, opium, alcoholic liquors, debauch, slander, lying, theft, and gluttony."

America now has about twenty thousand members. But the strongest claim that Adyar can make on the gratitude of the world, is its library of palm-leaf manuscripts. Here are shelves and shelves of ancient rolls, written by the monks of Tibetan monasteries and the pundits of the Ganges plains. It contains the garnered wisdom of elder civilizations, this library. There is an atmosphere of perfect peace here—where Pierre Loti studied twenty years ago—something of the quiet heart and level eyes of the Asian mystics. In the work of translating and classifying these manuscripts a group of learned Brahmins are engaged, and although the work progresses slowly from lack of funds, still it does progress. Slowly but surely the knowledge of long ago, which would have been one with the all-consuming dust of India but for the enterprise of Adyar, is being brought in print to Western eyes. Who knows what treasures of vision these pundits may unlock?

Here then in Adyar, and elsewhere, is a society of persons, the Order of the Star in the East, waiting and working for the coming Manu. "The striking of His hour is nigh when He shall come to mankind again as He did so often in the past." And we, who see but as in a glass darkly, can yet give our respect to an earnest band of workers who are preparing for the Kingdom that is to come, as they believe, in the days that are near at hand.

Pedro Oliveira

The Theosophical Society is now 130 years old. Founded in New York City on November 17, 1875, the Society has had only seven international presidents since its inception: Col. Henry Steel Olcott, Dr. Annie Besant, Dr. George Arundale, C. Jinarajadasa, N. Sri Ram, John B. S. Coats, and Radha Burnier.

An e-learning course offered by the Olcott School of Theosophy of the Theosophical Society in America features each President's inaugural address, journal excerpts, selected writings, historical photographs, study questions, and audio commentary. It also features a video interview conducted by Dr. Tony Lysy, Dean of the Olcott Institute at Wheaton with Joy Mills, former international vice-president and past president of both the American and Australian sections of the Theosophical Society.

Linda Oliveira

This well-structured and engaging course includes many tasks, but is very rewarding. It is an exploration of the history of the Society through the lives and work of its leaders. Joy Mills, who has been a member for over sixty years, is a veritable living archive of the Society's work as she has known or met all its presidents, except for Olcott and Besant. She insightfully points out that a living thread weaves its way through the contributions of all these individuals, despite their differences in temperament and outlook: and that is a reverence and commitment to universal brotherhood, freedom of thought, and Theosophy as a living Wisdom.

Henry Steel Olcott (1875-1907)

In his inaugural address, Olcott said that in the future the impartial historian would not be able to ignore the formation of the Theosophical Society. A number of authors have recognized the positive influence the Society has had in the cultural and spiritual progress of the world. Olcott was a journalist, a lawyer, an agriculturalist, an investigator of psychic phenomena, and a man of absolute integrity. He was also a healer and helped thousands with his gift. His contribution to the revival of Buddhism in Sri Lanka (formerly Ceylon) was outstanding and is remembered to this day in that country. He also had a deep interest in the education of the underprivileged children in India and Ceylon. One of his most enduring contributions was the purchase of the property for the International Headquarters at Adyar in 1882. Here he established the Adyar Library and Research Center in 1886, which is patterned after the ancient and legendary Library at Alexandria.

Annie Besant (1907-1933)

Annie Besant was a warrior spirit and fought for many causes. Before joining the TS, Annie Besant was a prominent worker in the field of social and educational reform in England. She had an exceptional mind, and her early book, The Building of the Kosmos (1894), is a deep presentation of Theosophy.

In 1908, she formed the Theosophical Order of Service (TOS), which aims at applying the theosophical worldview in every department of life. She had a global vision. In her inaugural address as president of the TS, she encouraged the "perfect toleration of all differences." Her contribution to India's political freedom and cultural regeneration was crucial and thousands came to listen to her speak. She was also one of the keynote speakers at the 1893 Parliament of World Religions in Chicago.

In the introduction to The Secret Doctrine, HPB had mentioned that a more advanced student would come in the twentieth century to further expand the teaching of the Wisdom Tradition. In 1909, Besant's colleague, C. W. Leadbeater, discovered the young J. Krishnamurti on the Adyar beach in Madras (now Chennai). In 1911, Besant and Leadbeater formed The Order of the Star in the East around Krishnamurti. Annie Besant nurtured Krishnamurti who held a deep love for her until the end of his life. She maintained that "diversities enrich the movement, as long as love rules and charity judges."

George Sydney Arundale (1934-1945)

George Arundale was like a son to Annie Besant. He worked very closely with her on her educational and cultural programs in India.

As a boy in London, young George had contact with HPB, and she gave him a box of chocolates. As a result, Arundale was committed to helping young people. He had a commanding presence which was felt throughout the Society as well as an enduring sense of humour. For him, Theosophy was a living reality and very practical.

Arundale was president of the TS during the war years (1939-1945). He encouraged young people to help the millions who died in the war by working with the dead on the subtler planes of existence. His motto was: "Together though differently" and he advocated a non-dogmatic presentation of Theosophy.

Curupumullage Jinarajadasa (1946-1953)

Jinarajadasa, or Brother Raja, as he was affectionately known, was a transitional president. A remarkable person and well-known as a lecturer and writer, Jinarajadasa emphasized the aesthetic side of Theosophy.

Discovered by Leadbeater in Ceylon at the end of the nineteenth century, Brother Raja was educated at Cambridge and became a linguist. He lectured in Spanish as well as Portuguese in many South American countries.

Jinarajadasa led the reconstruction work of the TS in Europe after the war. He was a great supporter of the United Nations, and during his presidency the Society was briefly affiliated with the UN, as an Non-Government Organization.

Brother Raja had a special interest in theosophical history and was a great archivist, having edited the Golden Book of the Theosophical Society. His book The New Humanity of the Intuition presented his view of the future development of humanity.

Jinarajadasa was a talent scout. He brought many young members from different parts of the world into contact with each other. He also conceived the Ritual of the Mystic Star, which celebrates the essential unity of all religions. Theosophy was for him a "joyous experience."

Nilakanta Sri Ram (1953-1973)

N. Sri Ram pointed to a different dimension of Theosophy. His contribution represents a new perception—the awakening of consciousness to the buddhic (intuitional) level. For Sri Ram, Theosophy was Wisdom in action.

In her comments about his first visit to the United States in 1948, Joy Mills remarks: "A most remarkable person. A presence of gentleness, a quiet power." N. Sri Ram presided over the 1966 World Congress in Salzburg, Austria, with calm, inherent dignity and a quiet and dignified authority. During his presidency the current building for the Adyar Library and Research Center was erected.

N. Sri Ram was a world traveller, a scholar, and a real Theosophist. He had an aphoristic quality to his thought and writings and a deep regard for Krishnamurti and his teachings. The writings of N. Sri Ram emphasize the possibility that consciousness could unfold its own essential nature into a state of wisdom and love. All those who came in contact with him were deeply affected by his gentleness, wisdom, and selflessness.

John Balfour Symington Coats (1973-1979)

John Coats was very much loved by young people and he encouraged them in their work for the Society. He presided over the World Congress in New York City in November 1975, which commemorated the centenary of the Theosophical Society, inviting Boris de Zirkoff to be the keynote speaker.

Joy reminisces that at the official banquet on that occasion, John wanted an empty chair at the centre of the table, "dedicated to the Great Ones." "There was presence, a silence," Joy recalls, "that those of us who were there will never forget."

Coats was an extrovert who embraced everybody--literally. He was a passionate speaker, had a tremendous love for humanity, and toured the theosophical world many times.

In the centenary issue of The Theosophist (October 1979), Coats wrote: "Throughout the world, let the love of power be replaced by the Power of Love."

Radha Sriram Burnier (1980-)

Elected in 1980, Radha Burnier has been re-elected ever since. The daughter of Sri Ram, she was born in Adyar and is a Sanskrit scholar, with a MA degree from the Benares Hindu University.

She emphasizes the Wisdom aspect of the theosophical teachings, and her keynote is Human Regeneration. She sees Theosophy as the Wisdom Religion, an expression used by HPB in her writings.

Radha leads a life of disciplined simplicity and loves animals. She enjoys the presence of many furry friends in her house (including a dog named Soli).

Radha has also toured the TS world several times over and shares with members and the public her insight into the human condition and how the human mind can come out of its predicament.

Universal Brotherhood: the cornerstone

Each successive President, in his or her individual way, has struck the same essential keynote: the Theosophical Society exists to help people realize the profound truth of Universal Brotherhood; that humanity, in its essence and at its heart, is forever one family in its fascinating diversity of creeds, cultures, and dreams.

In order to achieve this goal, freedom of thought is vital as "there is no doctrine, no opinion, by whomsoever taught or held, that is in any way binding on any member of the Society, none which any member is not free to accept or reject."

For anyone interested in the history of the Theosophical Society and its work, this course is an important and informative source. It shows why the Founders' dream is still alive after 130 years.

Pedro Oliveira joined the TS in Brazil in 1978 and worked in several capacities. He served as international secretary at Adyar between 1992 and 1996. In 2001, he was elected president of the Indo-Pacific Federation of the TS, and re-elected in 2004. He works as education coordinator of the TS in Australia and has lectured extensively, in Australia, the Indo-Pacific region, and other countries as well.

Linda Oliveira joined the Theosophical Society in 1971, first as a member of Canberra Lodge and subsequently as a member of Blavatsky Lodge, Sydney. She completed a Bachelor of Arts degree at the Australian National University, majoring in psychology and political science. In 1981, she was a student at the Krotona School of Theosophy in California, and also worked for a time at the national headquarters of the American section. Linda was a member of the General Council and has held the office of national president of the Theosophical Society in Australia since 2002. She believes deeply that a genuine exploration and understanding of the Wisdom teachings can provide an opportunity for human spiritual transformation, which is so badly needed in today's world.

By John Algeo

Benjamin Lee Whorf was by profession an inspector and engineer for the Hartford Fire Insurance Company, but his avocation was linguistics and the study of languages. He studied at Yale with one of this country's leading anthropological linguists, Edward Sapir. Following Sapir, Whorf became a leading exponent of a concept called variously the "linguistic relativity principle,"the "Sapir-Whorf hypothesis," or most often just the "Whorf hypothesis." It is,over-simply put, that the language we speak affects the way we think. His ideas are much richer and more complex than that and have very practical implications for the evolution of humanity.

Whorf's ideas imply that, because the language we speak affects the way we think, it also affects the way we view the world around us. We habitually formulate our perceptions of the world in language, according to the particular biases and prejudices inherent in whatever language we know. Thus language limits the way we perceive reality, the way we think about it, and the way we talk about it. But it need not do so. If we are aware of those limitations, we can compensate for them and view the world freshly and newly.

The overcoming of such limitations of the mind is related to the Buddhist concept of "mindfulness." And it is also what H. P. Blavatsky's Voice of the Silence is talking about in its fifth and sixth verses: "The Mind is the great Slayer of the Real. Let the Disciple slay the Slayer." "Slaying" is, of course,a metaphor. The mind "slays" because it tricks and misleads us through its conditioning (especially, according to the Whorf hypothesis, by the language we speak). To "slay the slayer" is to trick the trickster by meditative mindfulness.

A recent study of the Whorf hypothesis observes: "Benjamin Whorf was an extraordinary person whose theories about linguistic thinking developed more than half a century ago anticipated in several respects ways of talking and thinking about language in cognition which are only now gaining currency incognitive science" (Lee xviii). Another linguistic historian has identified Whorf as "a key figure in the development of 20th century linguistics" (Lee 9,summarizing Darnell).

Whorf was also a member of the Theosophical Society and of the Fritz Kunzcircle, whose members were concerned with applying Theosophical principles to education and intellectual life. Moreover, the fullest exposition of the Whorf hypothesis was first published in the Adyar Theosophist magazine for 1942 in a multipart article entitled "Language, Mind, and Reality." That article sets forth Whorf's ideas in Theosophical terms and from a Theosophical perspective, particularly the relevance of the distinction between lower and higher manas (the Sankrit term for "mind") to language capacity, acquisition, and use.

Our "lower" mind is closely connected with our physical brains and is molded by the experiences we have in life; so it is also called the "empirical" mind and is part of our personality, thus varying with every person. Our "higher" mind, on the other hand, is what Kant called the "pure reason" and the Greeks "nous"; it is anterior to our personal, empirical mind and is essentially the same in structure for all human beings. The difference between the "lower"and "higher" minds is roughly parallel to the Jungian distinction between our personal conscious and the collective unconscious.

We human beings all have the same capacity for perceiving the world around us because we all have higher minds that are structured in the same way.The evolutionary development of that mind is what makes us human and also makes language possible. Our capacity for language is a faculty of our higher minds,but the particular language systems we learn and use are related to our lower minds. The differences among the various language systems of human beings all over the world and the effect of those differences on our thinking processes are what interested Whorf.

The publication of the major statement of his ideas in the Theosophist was a result of "Whorf's long standing association with The Theosophical Society, a nonsectarian international society . . . which . . . promotes a world view in which the universe and everything in it is regarded as an interrelated and interdependent whole" (Lee 21). Whorf himself (282) said that he chose a Theosophical publication because "of all groups of people with whom I have come in contact, Theosophical people seem the most capable of becoming excited about ideas--new ideas."

References

Blavatsky, Helena Petrovna. The Voice of the Silence. 1889. Reprint Wheaton, IL: Theosophical Publishing House, 1992.

Darnell, Regna. Edward Sapir: Linguist, Anthropologist, Humanist. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1990

Lee, Penny. The Whorf Theory Complex. Amsterdam: Benjamins, 1996.

Whorf, Benjamin Lee. "Language, Mind and Reality." Theosophist  63, parts 1 and 2 (1942): 281 -91, 25 -37. Reprint in Language, Thought, and Reality: Selected Writings of Benjamin Lee Whorf, ed. John B. Carroll (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press,1956, 1974, 1997).

John Algeo is Professor Emeritus in English linguistics from the University ofGeorgia and editor of volume 6 of the Cambridge History of the English Language: English in North America, published by Cambridge University Press.

[The following are extracts from Whorf's "Language, Mind and Reality."]

We must find out more about language! Already we know enough about it to know that it is not what the great majority of men, lay or scientific, think it is. The fact that we talk almost effortlessly, unaware of the exceedingly complex mechanism we are using, creates an illusion. We think we know how it is done, that there is no mystery; we have all the answers. Alas, what wrong answers!

The forms of a person's thoughts are controlled by inexorable laws of pattern of which he is unconscious. The patterns are the unperceived intricate systematizations of his own language shown readily enough by a candid comparison and contrast with other languages, especially those of a different linguistic family. His thinking itself is in a language in English, in Sanskrit, in Chinese. And every language is a vast pattern-system, different from others,

in which is culturally ordained the forms and categories by which the personality not only communicates, but analyzes nature, notices or neglects types of relationship and phenomena, channels his reasoning, and builds the house of his consciousness.

It is as if the personal mind, which selects words but is largely oblivious to pattern, were in the grip of a higher, far more intellectual mind which has very little notion of houses and beds and soup-kettles, but can systematize and mathematize on a scale and scope that no mathematician of the schools ever remotely approached.

And now appears a great fact of human brotherhood--that human beings are all alike in this respect. So far as we can judge from the systematics of language, the higher mind or "unconscious" of a Papuan head-hunter can mathematize quite as well as that of Einstein; and conversely, scientist and yokel, scholar and tribesman, all use their personal consciousness in the same dim-witted sort of way, and get into similar kinds of logical impasse.

The higher mind would seem to be able to do any kind of purely intellectual feat, but not to "be conscious" on the personal level. That is, it does not focus on practical affairs and on the personal ego in its personal, immediate environment. Certain dreams and exceptional mental states may lead us to suppose it to be conscious on its own plane, and occasionally its consciousness may "come through" to the personality; but barring techniques like Yoga, it ordinarily makes no nexus with the personal consciousness.

We are compelled in many cases to read into nature fictitious acting-entities simply because our sentence patterns require our verbs, when not imperative, to have substantives before them. We are obliged to say "it flashed"or "a light flashed," setting up an actor it, or a light, to perform what we call an action, flash. But the flashing and the light are the same; there is nothing which does something, and no doing. Hopi says only rehpi. Hopi can have verbs without subjects, and this gives to that language power as a logical system for understanding certain aspects of the cosmos. . . . A change in language can transform our appreciation of the cosmos.

The lower personal mind, caught in a vaster world inscrutable to its methods, uses its strange gift of language to weave the web of Mãyã or illusion,to make a provisional analysis of reality and then regard it as final.

The scientific understanding of very diverse languages--not necessarily to speak them, but to analyze their structure--is a lesson in brotherhood which is brotherhood in the universal human principle--the brotherhood of the "Sons of Manas." It causes us to transcend the boundaries of local cultures, nationalities, physical peculiarities dubbed "race," and to find that in their linguistic systems, though these systems differ widely, yet in the order, harmony and beauty of the systems, and in their respective subtleties and penetrating analysis of reality, all men are equal.