The Dawn of Aquarius: The Turning of the Great Ages

By Ray Grasse

Originally printed in the Winter 2010 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Grasse, Ray. "The Dawn of Aquarius: The Turning of the  Great Ages." Quest  98. 1 (Winter 2010): 10-13.

Theosophical Society - Ray Grasse is a Chicago-based writer, musician, photographer, and astrologer. He worked for ten years on the editorial staffs of Quest Books and The Quest magazine. Imagine the world as it would appear from the perspective of an ant wandering onstage during a performance of Shakespeare's Midsummer's Night's Dream. All around you there unfolds a great drama, replete with exotic colors, sounds, and complex happenings; yet because of your limited perspective, the meaning of it all escapes you. You can't comprehend the multilayered significance of this drama or grasp how these diverse elements fit into a greater unfolding story being played out in several acts. And yet only by understanding that larger context could you perceive how these elements are really facets of a greater narrative.

In a way, our own predicament is rather like this. We, too, find ourselves meandering across a great "stage" that of history itself. To the casual eye, the events transpiring around us may seem like a chaotic jumble of random occurrences: a rocket carrying seven crew members explodes in midair; a world leader finds himself embroiled in a foreign war; a new computer technology suddenly takes the world by storm. At first glance there is little to suggest that such things possess any meaning or relation to one another. Yet our problem may simply be one of proximity: perhaps we're just too close to grasp what is going on. If our perspective were broad enough, perhaps we'd recognize how these isolated events are facets of a much greater story.

For the esotericist, an important key toward helping unlock that broader perspective is the concept of the Great Ages. We presently find ourselves straddling the threshold between the "acts," as it were, of the Piscean and the Aquarian Ages. Like vast tectonic plates shifting deep within the collective unconscious, this epochal transition has already begun manifesting as a series of seismic changes throughout our world, as the forms of an older age make way for those of a radically new one.

Will the coming era be a time of peace, love, and brotherhood, as some suggest? Or will it bring about an Orwellian police state where men and women become little more than cogs in a bureaucratic machine? If history is any guide, the truth will probably be more complex than we expect or can even imagine. It's useful to remember that the same Piscean Age that brought us Jesus Christ also brought us Torquemada and the Inquisition, not to mention televangelist Jimmy Swaggert. To help us make sense of these unfolding complexities, let's look briefly at a few of the key symbols and archetypal themes associated with both of these eras.

The Age of Pisces 

For two millennia now, we have been under the influence primarily of the watery sign of Pisces. The exact beginning of the Piscean Age is hotly debated, though most would agree that it can be loosely associated with the start of the Christian era. The manifestations of the Piscean Age include the rise of a global religion centering primarily on symbols of water: baptism, walking on water, changing water into wine, and so forth. Indeed, for the student of astrological symbolism Christianity offers a virtual mother lode of correspondences in connection with Pisces.

For example, Christian scripture speaks extensively of fishermen, sympathy for society's outcasts, martyrdom, and the washing of feet—all traditional symbols of Pisces. One of the defining miracles of Christ's ministry was the feeding of the multitude with two fishes and five loaves of bread. More subtly, the Catholic practice of eating fish on Friday is sometimes linked to the fact that Friday is governed by Venus, the planet that is "exalted" (attains its optimal expression) in Pisces.

Were these correspondences intentional on the part of the church fathers, or are they purely synchronistic? Even scholars disagree on this point, so we may never know for sure. Either way, we can study these symbols for what they reveal about the archetypal dynamics of the time. Viewed as a whole, they suggest that humanity was learning to relate to reality and the divine through a more emotional filter. In its constructive aspect, this brought about a newfound element of compassion and faith in key segments of society, especially in the Christian world. A spiritual sensibility emerged which spoke of "turning the other cheek" rather than smiting one's enemies— shift from Roma to Amor, in a sense.

More negatively, this same emphasis on emotionality ushered in a spirit of dogmatism and persecution within the emerging religions. Pisces is intensely concerned with matters of faith, but taken to extremes, this can lead to zealotry, self-righteousness, and the urge to establish absolute guidelines for all to follow. At its worst, the Piscean Age was an era of religious intolerance, when large populations were expected to show unquestioning allegiance to a monolithic belief system, as was the case for much of Christianity and Islam during this period.

One of the more striking Piscean symbols found in Christianity is its central image—the crucifixion. It is sobering to consider that for nearly two millennia Western culture has defined itself largely in terms of an image of someone being tortured in a particularly gruesome manner. Viewed archetypally, this singular seed image contains both the best and worst of the Piscean legacy. At its worst, the crucifixion expresses dark Piscean qualities like self-pity, masochism, guilt, and martyrdom. These traits reflect the self-dissolving principle of water, but directed in a more destructive way. In some respects the Piscean Age could be called the ultimate age of neurosis, an era when many believed suffering and guilt were somehow synonymous with spirituality. This is precisely the sort of delusion that arises when the ego is unhealthy or ungrounded and finds itself drawn back into the more corrosive and ego-dissolving emotions of the soul.

But the crucifixion has a more positive interpretation too. As astrologers know, Pisces symbolically relates to the transcendence of the ego and the surrender of personal interests in service of higher ideals. As the last sign in the zodiac, Pisces is that final stage in the soul's evolution where the boundaries of personality have begun dissolving and the soul now merges with the great cosmic ocean. In its highest sense, this is what the crucifixion means: the willing capacity for sacrifice, worship, and profound devotion. This is the water element at its most refined. Some examples of this would be St. Francis of Assisi, or the ideals of chivalry and courtly love, with their ethos of self-sacrifice and idealism, that arose during the medieval era. Note, too, that the word for that other major Piscean Age religion, Islam, means "surrender" when translated into English.

Whereas the Age of Aries (c. 2100 bc–ad 1) brought an awakening of the outwardly directed ego, the more feminine Piscean Age brought about a newfound sense of interiority or inwardness. In religious terms, this was evident in the emerging Christian emphasis on moral reflectivity, or conscience. The underside of this development was the emergence of a new mood of guilt throughout Western society. Prior to Christianity, one rarely finds a sense of conscience or "sin" as we now think of it. The earlier Greeks saw their relationship to the gods in more mechanical and external terms than we do now. When crimes were committed, one atoned for them not because of an inner sense of guilt but because of a belief that one had accrued a "stain" of sorts that could be removed through an appropriate sacrifice.

On another level, this new sense of interiority was mirrored in the rise of architectural features like the dome and the arch, so critical to Islamic mosques or Roman structures like the Pantheon. Artistic shifts like these symbolized a new world of emotions opening up during the early Christian era. Centuries later, this same development made possible the later birth of modern psychology.

The Age of Aquarius (ad c. 2100–c. 4200)

The most frequently asked question concerning the Aquarian Age is, when does it begin? That's a bit like determining when the dawn starts. Is it when the morning sky first starts glowing long before the actual sunrise? Or is it when the sun actually appears over the horizon?

The same problem applies to understanding the timing of any Great Age. An age doesn't begin on a single day or year but unfolds gradually over many years or even centuries, exerting its influence in pronounced waves like the incoming tide. Consequently, while the Aquarian Age may not manifest fully for several hundred years yet—most estimates suggest somewhere between ad 2100 and 2800—;there are any number of clues to suggest that its forces have already begun appearing in our world. The rise of the Internet is a current example, but we can see evidence of it even as far back as the American Revolution. 

Whereas Pisces is traditionally associated with the element of water, Aquarius is associated with the element of air. Outwardly, this is reflected in the startling rise of aviation technologies and space travel over the last century. In a quite literal sense, humans are learning to master the air realm, not only with aviation but through the construction of ever taller buildings that allow us to live higher up off the ground than ever before. The media also employ metaphors that reflect this elemental shift when they say that a show is going "on the air" or a broadcaster is "taking to the airwaves."

But these outer developments are really reflections of an inner shift taking place, one that relates to an awakening of mind throughout the culture. Symbolically understood, air is the medium through which we communicate ideas, and is the element most associated with rationality and thinking. This means that the Aquarian Age will likely usher in major advances in humanity's intellectual growth, though probably at widely varying levels of sophistication. Someone living a life in front of a TV set might be described as pursuing a "mental" existence, but in a vastly different way than the scientist struggling to unlock the mysteries of the cosmos. Terms like "information superhighway" or the "information revolution" are further examples of how the impending Aquarian influence has already begun to propel our world toward more mental values and modes of experience. The modern separation of church and state is another important example of the disengaging of our rational minds from the dogmatic and emotional concerns of the Piscean Age.

A vital key toward understanding the meaning of Aquarius resides in the way each of the different elements repeats itself three times over the course of the zodiac. In other words, there are three earth signs, three water signs, three fire signs, and three air signs. Each version of that element expresses it in subtly different ways. To illustrate this, let us focus here on the trio of air signs: Gemini, Libra, and Aquarius.

The Three Faces of Air

Given the progressive nature of the zodiac, it's hardly surprising that each of these three signs would reflect the workings of the mind in broader and increasingly impersonal ways. For instance, in Gemini, rationality expresses itself in a highly personal manner, through the workings of the everyday mind and ordinary forms of communication. In Libra, the rationality of the air element manifests in more interpersonal ways, through a mentality directed toward interactions with others in wider social contexts. Some simple examples would be a teacher standing before a class or a salesman dealing with clients.

In Aquarius, we find the element of air-rationality expressing itself through the most impersonal contexts of all, in terms of large masses of people—or even the cosmos itself. Aquarius could be described as the principle of cosmic rationality or cosmic mind, the ability to perceive and make connections of the most abstract and universal sort. Aquarius isn't simply concerned with ideas and theoretical relations; it is concerned with ideas and relationships that are global or cosmic in scope.

For this reason, the Aquarian Age will likely be an era when science rather than religion will be the dominant paradigm, with scientists becoming the new high priests. Whereas religion purported to reveal the moral and theological principles underlying the world, science attempts to uncover, in a wholly secular way, the universal physical laws and principles underlying nature. It aspires to a completely impersonal—and very Aquarian—understanding of the universe, divested of subjective feelings and opinions.

This impersonality is also evident in the way many of us now are developing social connections and networks extending over vast distances, using technologies like the Internet or TV. These allow people across the world to communicate with one another, but in more cerebral ways than ever before. It's one of the paradoxes of our time that just as we're becoming more interconnected with people across the entire world, we find ourselves knowing less about the people living next door to us.

This shifting orientation toward Aquarian air is also responsible for our growing fascination with outer space and its exploration, as reflected in films such as Star Wars or 2001: A Space Odyssey, or TV shows like Star Trek. Works like these capture the emerging spirit of a "longing for the stars" that is so intrinsic to Aquarius. The modern fascination with UFOs and extraterrestrial life will likely become even stronger in the years to come, as humanity finds its speculations in these areas progressively translating into concrete reality.

Symbols on the Brink of Aquarius

With one foot in the Piscean Age behind us and the other in the Aquarian Age ahead of us, we find ourselves caught between radically contrasting value systems. If the Great Ages represent a Shakespearean drama of cosmic proportions, we've stepped onto the stage precisely at the point "between acts," when the old props and backdrops are being replaced by new ones. One result of living in this liminal state is the rise of various transitional forms—symbolic hybrids of Piscean and Aquarian energies. Here are a few examples of these from recent times.

Televangelism
. What happens when old-style Piscean Christianity meets up with Aquarian-style telecommunications? One result is that distinctly modern phenomenon called televangelism, in which preachers engage the fruits of cutting-edge media technology for spreading the gospel of salvation to ever-larger audiences.

The abortion debate.
As one Great Age comes up against another, there can be a violent clashing of values and ideologies from both sides of the divide. A vivid example of this is the modern controversy over abortion. On the one hand there are the largely Christian "prolife" advocates representing the values of the Piscean Age, with their expression of sympathy for the helpless unborn. On the other hand there are the "prochoice" advocates representing the forces of Aquarius, championing the rights of individuals to decide their own fates. Over the years there has been little compromise between the views of these two camps, and there is little hope for change in sight, but with good reason. They arise out of two fundamentally different paradigms, two radically different ways of seeing and evaluating the world—one from the last Great Age and the other from the next.

The storming of the Bastille
. Sometimes even single events can serve as archetypal benchmarks in the transition between eras. One of the earliest and most dramatic examples of this was the storming of the Bastille on July 14, 1789, a pivotal event in the French Revolution. On this date, French radicals took over and opened up the famed prison, which had been holding political prisoners, and released those few who remained. In astrological symbolism, prisons are associated with Pisces, while the principles of freedom and revolution are associated with Aquarius. The opening up of a prison and release of its prisoners was a symbolic landmark in the move from the old authoritarian order to a more freedom-oriented one.

Alcoholics Anonymous.
For astrologers, one of the negative symbols associated with Pisces is addiction to intoxicants like alcohol, drugs, or even fossil fuels! Groups such as Alcoholics Anonymous (AA) offer an example of people coming together to break free from their addiction to alcohol, nicely symbolizing the effort to undo our bondage to Piscean consciousness. AA is thus a hybrid. It has one foot firmly planted in the values of the receding age, not only because of its focus on alcohol but its emphasis on surrendering to a higher power ("Let go and let God!"), not to mention its own brand of "commandments" (the Twelve Steps). At the same time, AA is committed to breaking free from addictions and is essentially democratic and nondenominational—factors all associated with the emerging Aquarian era.

Transitional symbols in cinema.
Poet Ezra Pound once suggested that artists are the antennae of the race. Over the last two centuries we have seen many examples of how the arts can serve as a rich repository of symbolic clues for understanding the transformations taking place in our world. Take the case of Peter Weir's 1998 film The Truman Show, based on a script by Andrew Niccol. This ingenious movie tells the story of Truman Burbank (played by Jim Carrey) and his efforts to break free of a media-permeated world in which he has spent his life as the unwitting subject. Lording over this world is a powerful artist named Christof (Ed Harris), who has choreographed the circumstances of Truman's life from birth onward as part of a vast performance piece known to all except Truman himself.

Throughout most of the movie, Truman is shown living in a world bounded by water (Pisces); each time he attempts to escape from this world, he is lured back with the promise of alcohol (a Piscean symbol). He eventually learns to overcome these temptations and succeeds in escaping from this water-bound world into an air-based one (Aquarius). The movie climaxes with the protagonist walking on water and literally stepping into the sky. (Compare this with the original Matrix film, in which Neo, the lead character, awakens from an amniotic, water-based existence into an air-breathing one.) And what is the name of the Godlike figure from whom Truman is desperately trying to break free in his water-bound world? Christof, or, "of Christ"—yet another symbol of the Piscean era.

Transitional symbols in literature.
The transition to the Aquarian Age has expressed itself within the forms of modern literature as well. For instance, the passage from one age to another sometimes expresses itself in mythic symbols which depict a hero doing battle with a creature symbolically associated with the prior age. An example from Western religion would be Moses ordering the Israelites to destroy the golden calf, symbolizing the transition from the Age of Taurus to that of Aries. In modern times, a similar pattern can be found in books like Herman Melville's Moby Dick. Here we see a figure in the open air (Ahab) attempting to slay a creature of the sea, symbolizing transcendence over the water realm (Pisces). Additionally, if the whaling industry is taken as a symbol for modern industrial civilization generally (it was the first true industry to emerge from the young America), then Melville's tale underscores the shift from a more emotional age to the more technological and business-minded one of Aquarius.

The Pilgrims' immigration to America.
Whether we know it or not, we are all pushed or pulled to some degree by the imperatives of our age; we all act out the necessities of a broader drama. As one example of this, the effort by the Pilgrims to flee religious persecution in the Old World in search of religious freedom in the new one reflects a shift from the more dogmatic, persecution-oriented Piscean era to the freedom-oriented Aquarian Age. Little could they have realized that they were also setting the stage for a collective drama whose implications would extend far into the future and influence the geopolitical direction of an entire planet for centuries to come.

Lifting Our Sights

So what exactly can we expect in the Aquarian Age? As I hinted at the beginning of this article, the next Great Age will likely be every bit as complex and multifaceted as every other one that has preceded it. While some foretell a utopian era of knowledge and brotherhood, and others speak of a time when corporations and governments rule the day, it's more realistic to expect that the truth will lie within the constantly shifting ground between these extremes. For that reason, perhaps a better question to ask would be, what can we do to facilitate the highest expression of the coming era? As I've discussed in my book Signs of the Times, there are a number of specific steps we might consider for achieving this goal on both the collective and personal levels.

On the global scale, it means working to create a society that fosters higher values and ideals, not only through improved laws and educational institutions but the cultivation of increasingly enlightened business models. "If we create the body of civilization," the late philosopher Manly Palmer Hall once remarked, "then the soul body of civilization—which is the 'New Atlantis'—will move in and vitalize it. And instead of being a mechanistic culture defended only by mortal laws, it will be the manifestation of a loving being receiving light from the Eternal source of light" (Hall).

On a more personal level, enhancing the higher potentials of the Aquarian Age will involve, among other things, developing one's own higher mind and critical faculties, allowing one to remain free from the hypnotizing qualities of society's mental "grid"—the sociocultural matrix of our collective beliefs. Can you stand apart from the crowd and think for yourself? That's a question that's being asked by many of our emerging popular mythologies.

The Great Ages may come and go, but mystics repeatedly underscore the importance of not letting one's personal happiness be dependent upon outer circumstances. As the famed yogi Paramahansa Yogananda once remarked, "You do not have to wait for the end of the world in order to be free. There is another way: rise above the age in which you are born" (Yogananda, 67). Whether the Age of Aquarius turns out to be a utopia or an Orwellian nightmare, we ultimately have responsibility for our own awareness and attitudes—and in some ways that may be the most Aquarian lesson of all.


References

Manly Palmer Hall. "Francis Bacon: The New Atlantis." No. 1. Audio transcript: Landmarks of Esoteric Literature. Los Angeles: Philosophical Research Society, 1998.
Yogananda, Paramahansa. The Divine Romance. Los Angeles: Self-Realization Fellowship, 1986.


Ray Grasse is author of The Waking Dream (Quest Books, 1996) and Signs of the Times: Unlocking the Symbolic Language of World Events (Hampton Roads, 2002), from which this article is adapted. He worked on the editorial staffs of Quest Books and Quest magazine for ten years. He can be reached at jupiter.enteract@rcn.com or through his Web site at www.raygrasse.com 


Father Time's Birthday Party

By Arlene Gay Levine

Originally printed in the Winter 2010 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Levine, Arlene Gay."Father Time's Birthday Party." Quest  98. 1 (Winter 2010): 18-21.

Theosophical Society - Arlene Gay Levine is the author of Thirty-Nine Ways to Open Your Heart: An Illuminated Meditation.Once upon a time on a summer solstice, the longest day of the year, Father Time went on strike. Step by shaky step he descended the mountain where his timeworn workshop sat and headed toward the valley below. He was tired and cranky.

He had been around longer than anyone could remember, keeping track of time.
He slumped down on a boulder in the middle of a lush meadow. "Nobody cares about me anymore," he whined to Mother Earth as she lovingly tended the wild flowers of cinnamon red, mellow yellow, and cornflower blue blooming at her feet.

"I've been here so long people take me for granted. In fact, all they do is complain about me. You know, how there's never enough time."

"Oh, you're just feeling old," said Mother Earth. "You know, like time is passing you by. Come sit near one of my rivers and watch it flow. Notice how it drifts on and on forever and a day. It will help you relax."

"Or maybe you simply have too much time on your hands," added Brother Sun as he rose over the peaceful clearing. "How about helping me to grow this summer's crops?"

"You could kill some time with me," chimed in Sister Moon, barely visible in the morning sky. "Why we could spend all night traveling the time zones. Guaranteed to make time fly!"

Father Time was not listening. What did they know about being disregarded? People were always gazing at the moon, basking in the sun, and admiring the beauty of nature. He stood up, straightened his tattered gray coat, dusted off his torn top hat, and picked up his cane carved millennia ago from the branches of the first tree. "There is no time like the present to deal with a problem. World, get ready for a wakeup call. I am about to drop my first time bomb" Moving at double time, he charged off in the direction of his workshop.

Overhead flew the BlueSky Jester, wearing his cloud suit. Accompanying himself on an antique lute he sang to no one in particular:

Time for me, time for you
Time for everything we do
Hurry and rush are such a waste
The magician is one who has never known haste.

Surrounded by his huge library, clocks of every kind, shape, and size, and tons of time-related gizmos and gadgets that he had invented over time, Father Time smiled to himself. He carefully selected one of the big black volumes and flipped through the yellowing pages. When he found what he was looking for, he got up and danced a jagged little jig.

"Time is on my side!" he giggled as he shuffled around the room crowded with timepieces galore. "Now all I have to do is find it." And he began to search through all his assembled paraphernalia. Sundials, shadow sticks, candle clocks, alarm clocks, grandfather clocks, wall clocks, time capsules, egg timers, and wheelbarrows full of watches. No luck until he closed his eyes, spun clockwise three times, and pointed.

There, hidden behind the ancient water clock called the clepsydra, was what he needed: the World's Hourglass.

The glass had been blown from the shards of a rainbow, and its dainty holder was pure gold. He had built it himself back before time began and hoped it would not take an eternity to remember how to open it. Hours felt like seconds as, happily busy, he tinkered with the mechanism. With infinite care, he pried off the top. From his very fingertips, glowing now as bright as the gold, a substance began to fall into the hourglass.

He gave his hands a final shake. "Pressed for time, are they? I'll teach them to be ungrateful. This will put a wrinkle in their time: twenty-five hours instead of twenty-four!" Then he laughed a lonely laugh until tears ran down his lined face, making him seem even older than he was. The BlueSky Jester heard the sad sound and began to sing:

Yesterday is real as tomorrow
And they're both the same as today
Calendars change the numbers and names
Yet time is neither lost nor saved.

Before very long it appeared that something was wrong. Time seemed to pass more slowly than ever. Brother Sun could not judge when to rise or set. Sister Moon did not know when to wax and wane. Mating and hibernating became a guessing game for the animals in the fields. Even tides had no idea if they should rise or ebb.

Of course, the people were by far the worst off because they imagined that without time their world would end. They had built their lives out of seconds, minutes, and hours, and now they felt they had nothing to count on. What could they put their faith in if not time? Many of them were so depressed they refused to get out of bed. Others sat and wailed and waited for the end of time as if it were around the corner.

The only soul unaffected by the changes was the BlueSky Jester. Patient and kind, he made his rounds as usual at no specific time. Why worry when everyone was always in the right place right on time no matter where or when? He felt no pressure to keep up with the times. No time was especially superior, nor was there any one moment he would call bad. Things and times simply were or weren't, as they were meant to be, for the good of all. To cheer the people he sang:

Joyful moments, sacred hours
Days of sorrow, years of growth
Let us live as bloom the flowers
Sunup, sundown; perfect both.

As time passed, the novelty of Father Time's trick wore off, and he became more lonely and bored than ever. He wished someone would come and ask him the correct time. But the few people still brave enough to function now that the hours could not be trusted were busy trying to figure out what to do when.

Father Time was too proud to admit his bad behavior had not gotten him the attention he wanted. "Time waits for no man!" he howled in his solitary pain. Instead of removing the twenty-fifth hour, he began to add more to the hourglass, one for each day he was ignored. His fingertips glowed overtime.

Mother Earth began to worry, which was not like her at all. From time out of mind, the seasons had always come and gone on schedule. Of course she could not be sure now that time was out of whack, but soon it ought to be the autumnal equinox when the hours of night and day must balance. How would the light and dark share their power in the world when Father Time kept adding hours willy-nilly to each day?

She called Brother Sun and Sister Moon to her side. "Time is running out!"

"Don't you mean over?" asked Sister Moon, her silver eyes flashing from lack of sleep. "Why I've never seen so many hours in a day. How many is it now? Thirty-six? Forty-five? A hundred and two?"

"I've lost count," sighed Brother Sun. How weary he had become shining on and on, even when Sister Moon appeared, just in case. "I do know one thing for sure. We need a time saver. Why look at the leaves! They don't even know whether to turn colors or fall off." He shook his head sadly. "And what should I tell the robins when they ask if it's time to fly south?"

So even this powerful trio started to lose hope. Time was marching on, but for the time being it was on a nonstop parade with no time out. The feeling of gloom was overwhelming. Brother Sun, exhausted from all his overtime, began to fade, and without him Mother Earth and all her creatures were doomed. Sister Moon, however, refused to give up and instead imagined this headline in The New York Times: "Planet Saved in the Nick of Time."

As she visualized a solution, the BlueSky Jester arrived, unnoticed as usual, humming this little tune:

Time is a line
With no beginning or end
Some call it enemy; I call it friend.
Summer to fall, winter to spring
We all dance in the eternal ring.

Brother Sun, enlivened by the harmony of music and wisdom of words, became energized, his rays once more gently caressing the land.

" suddenly have this feeling,""

"have to let him know he is loved," agreed Brother Sun. "But how, if he doesn't already feel my warmth and understand? Or see the sparkling splendor of the night sky or the glory of growing things in this garden we call home?"

"You could throw him a party," said a tiny voice.

"Who is that?" the three called out in unison.

An infant neatly dressed in fluffy white diapers and a blue satin sash crawled toward them. "It's me, Baby New Year, and I can't be born if we don't get some order back around here. Things need to occur when it is time for them to happen. Don't you think it's high time we took some action?"

He was such an adorable baby that Mother Earth forgot her troubles for a moment and lifted him up on her lap. His innocent face beamed with the sheer joy of being alive. "I may not know much yet," he said, "but it seems like nothing makes people feel more special than a party in their honor. After all, I get one real doozy every year, so I am sort of an authority on the subject."

"Time is of the essence," said Mother Earth, almost to herself. "A party it will be." Then she smiled at Baby New Year. "Have you ever noticed, from time to time, it's the young ones who have the best answers?" Without wasting a moment, they set to gathering for the celebration all the things made more beautiful by time. First came the people of the planet and every fond memory they owned, followed by the harvest of mature fruit, vegetables, and wine. Sister Moon took a stitch in time and sewed a lovely new robe as a gift. She studded it with seven stars whose sparkle was known to grow brighter eon after eon. Then they sent Brother Sun to Father Time's workshop to shine his Light that was Love as an invitation.

In his musty ancient workshop, dark with the ravages of time, the old man felt like a prisoner doing time with no visitors allowed. Time and time again, he was tempted to empty the sands of time from the hourglass. Why go on if nobody would give him the time of day? Pacing back and forth, he decided that the perfect time was at hand. He picked up the World's Hourglass, ready to smash it into oblivion. Suddenly a ray of sunlight pierced through the shadows warming his gnarled hands.

"Come along with me, Father," said Brother Sun, "and bring that hourglass with you. We must be somewhere special exactly on time." Father Time scowled, but he was secretly overjoyed to see that someone at least had not forgotten him.

"I promise you'll have the time of your life." And so saying, Brother Sun lighted the way for the lonely old man.

"Surprise!" everyone yelled as the two arrived. Baby New Year sat atop a colossal cake. Nobody knew how many candles to put on it, so they chose him instead. Overwhelmed with emotions, Father Time dropped the World's Hourglass. At that precise instant, it was scooped up by the BlueSky Jester, who composed this ditty for the occasion:

Any time at all is the best one for you
What once was old becomes brand new
When the journey seems finished there's your start
Live not by the minutes but from your heart.

The crowd applauded wildly, and Father Time, touched by the whole world waiting to honor him, willingly emptied the hourglass of all but the original twenty-four hours. Now time, for the time being, runs like a clock again. Still, there are a few of us, like the ageless BlueSky Jester, who will always remember our story is a timeless one.


Arlene Gay Levine, author of Thirty-Nine Ways to Open Your Heart: An Illuminated Meditation (Conari Press), has had prose and poetry appear in many venues, including The New York Times, an off-Broadway show, and on CD. Her poetry is frequently anthologized, most recently in Serenity Prayers (Andrews McMeel, 2009). She tends her garden of roses, herbs, and words in Forest Hills, New York, where she is currently at work on a collection of her poems and a novel for middle graders.


Against Blavatsky: Rene Guenon's Critique of Theosophy

By Richard Smoley

Originally printed in the Winter 2010 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Smoley, Richard. "Against Blavatsky: Rene Guenon's Critique of Theosophy." Quest  98. 1 (Winter 2010): 28-34.

Theosophical Society - Richard Smoley is editor of Quest: Journal of the Theosophical Society in America and a frequent lecturer for the Theosophical SocietyOver the past two decades, academic scholars have begun to investigate the long-neglected field of esoteric spirituality. They have singled out five figures as the chief guiding lights of Western esotericism in the twentieth century: H.P. Blavatsky, Rudolf Steiner, C.G. Jung, G.I. Gurdjieff, and Rene Guenon. Of these, Guenon is by far the least-known. Reclusive and contemptuous of the modern world, he did little to make himself famous. Nevertheless, even before his death in 1951, he had become a cult figure, and over the last half-century his influence has only increased—particularly among those who regard contemporary civilization as a spiritual blight.

Guenon's thought resembles Theosophy in certain important ways. They share a common emphasis on a central esoteric teaching that underlies all religions, and they even agree about many aspects of this teaching. Nonetheless, Guenon was extremely vitriolic about Theosophy and denounced it at great length in his 1921 book Le theosophisme: Histoire d'une pseudo-religion. This work was not published in English until 2003, when it appeared under the title Theosophy: History of a Pseudo-Religion. This translation is not entirely accurate. The original French title refers not to "theosophy" (theosophie) but "theosophism" (theosophisme), a word coined by Guenon to suggest that Blavatsky's Theosophy had nothing to do with genuine theosophy as practiced by the Western esoteric traditions but was a counterfeit, and a dangerous one at that.

Born in Blois, France, in 1886, Guenon had a conventional education in mathematics. In his youth he began to explore occult currents in Paris and was initiated into esoteric groups connected with Freemasonry, Taoism, Advaita Vedanta, and Sufism. Like Blavatsky, he held that there was a universal esoteric tradition that was the source of all religions, but he differed very much with her about what constituted a genuine continuation of this lineage. Theosophy, he insisted, was not. Why was he so contemptuous of it? The question becomes more perplexing when we learn that Guenon was first introduced to esotericism by Gerard Encausse (better known under his pseudonym Papus), who was a correspondent of HPB and cofounder of the Theosophical Society in France (Quinn, 111).

Ironically, one reason for Guenon's attitude may be that he and Blavatsky were in many ways not so far apart. In fact scholar Mark Sedgwick, whose book Against the Modern World is the best introduction to the impact of Guenon's thought, sees Theosophy as one of Guenon's chief influences (Sedgwick, 40—44). We have already seen that Blavatsky and Guenon agreed about the existence of a universal esoteric tradition. They both made liberal use of Sanskrit terms in expounding their ideas, and they agreed about the dangers of spiritualism, arguing that spiritualistic seances do not enable one to make contact with dead individuals but merely with their astral shells, which have been shucked off as the spirit ascends to higher planes. Guenon devoted an entire book, L'erreur spirite ("The Spiritist Error"), to this issue. In it he writes: "It is well known that what can be evoked [in a seance] does not at all represent the real, personal being, which is henceforth beyond reach because it has passed to another state of existence...but only the inferior elements that the individual has in a manner left behind in the terrestrial domain following the dissolution of the human composite which we call death" (Guenon, L'erreur spirite, 54—55).*

This bears more than a faint resemblance to Theosophical teaching. Guenon himself quotes Blavatsky as saying that spiritualist phenomena are frequently due to astral elementals or "shells" that have been left behind by the departed. Nonetheless, he insists that the Theosophists are wrong: "The Theosophists believe that a 'shell' is an 'astral cadaver,' that is, the remains of a decomposing body. And, apart from the fact that this body is thought not to have been abandoned by the spirit for a more or less long time after death, rather than being essentially tied to the 'physical body,' the very conception of 'invisible bodies' seems to us to be greatly in error" (Guenon, L'erreur spirite, 57). While Guenon admits that the distinction between his view and Blavatsky's is a subtle one, it is difficult to see any distinction at all except in terminology. But this is a common problem in most forms of thought, particularly esotericism: the smaller a difference is, the more vehemently one insists upon it. The history of religion offers countless examples.

Guenon also contends that HPB talked out of both sides of her mouth regarding spiritualism. And in fact she was deeply engaged in the spiritualist movement in the early 1870s. Speaking of her later claims that mediums are generally either fraudulent or seriously imbalanced, he writes: "It seems that she was faced with the following dilemma: either she was only a fake medium at the time of her 'miracles clubs' or else she was a sick person" (Guenon, Theosophy, 115—16). Blavatsky's supporters may reply that she always intended to sift the truth from the false in spiritualism—to acknowledge the reality of life after death and even to a degree of spiritualistic phenomena, while showing that these are of a low and sinister kind. One letter of hers, dated to 1872, says, "[The spiritualists'] spirits are no spirits but spooks—rags, the cast off second skins of their personalities that the dead shed in the astral light as serpents shed theirs on earth, leaving no connection between the reptile and his previous garment" (Blavatsky, Letters, 1:20). Another letter, however, written in 1875, contends, "Those that seek to overturn the truth of Spiritualism will find a furious Dragon in me and a merciless exposer whoever they are" (Blavatsky, Letters, 1:101).

What HPB really meant to accomplish by participating in the spiritualist movement is hard to fathom, especially since anyone wanting to collect contradictory statements in her writings, on this subject or on many others, could readily do so. Nevertheless, her attitudes toward spiritualism in the last fifteen years of her life are hard to distinguish from Guenon's.

It is quite another matter when it comes to two other Theosophical doctrines: karma and reincarnation. In both cases, Guenon insists that the Theosophical view is a pure fabrication and has nothing to do with genuine Eastern teaching: "The idea of reincarnation . . ., like that of evolution, is a very modern idea; it appears to have materialized around 1830 or 1848 in certain French socialist circles" (Guenon, Theosophy, 104). This may be true of the term "reincarnation" per se, but the teaching can be found in the West as far back as Pythagoras, and is discussed at length in Plato's Republic and Phaedo, not to mention its long heritage in Hinduism and Buddhism.

Guenon denies all this. Regarding the transmigration of human souls into animals, he says:

In reality, the ancients never conceived of such transmigration, any more than they did of a human into other humans, which is how one might define reincarnation. There are expressions, more or less symbolic, that could give rise to such misunderstandings, but only when one does not know what they are really saying, which is this: There are psychic elements in the human being which separate themselves after death, and which can pass into other living beings, human or animal, although this has no more importance than the fact that, after the dissolution of the same individual, the elements that made him up can be used to make up other bodies (Guenon, L'erreur spirite, 206—07).

Unfortunately, the ancient accounts of reincarnation say nothing of the kind. At the end of the Republic, Plato tells the myth of Er, a soldier who has a kind of near-death experience in which he learns the fates of individuals after death (Plato, Republic, 614b-621d). In one famous passage, Er sees the dead choosing their lots for new incarnations. Odysseus, the shrewdest of men, refuses lives of riches and honor and instead chooses that of an ordinary citizen. However "symbolic" this story might be, it is hard to see how it might accommodate itself to a theory like Guenon's. One could make the same point about a similar myth in the Phaedo and about the teachings of the Orphic and Pythagorean mysteries, to the extent that we know anything specific about them.

Guenon's own views about the fate of the spirit after death are complex. Defining transmigration in what he considers the true sense, he contends, "It is not a matter of a return to the same state of existence....but on the contrary, the passage of the being to other states of existence, which are defined...by completely different conditions from those to which the human being is subject....Whoever speaks of transmigration is essentially speaking about a change of state. This is what all the traditional doctrines of the East teach, and we have many reasons to believe that this was also the teaching of the 'mysteries' of antiquity; it is the same thing even in heterodox doctrines such as Buddhism" (Guenon, L'erreur spirite, 211).**

Guenon conceives of existence as a kind of three-dimensional grid, with a vertical axis transecting an infinite number of horizontal planes. The vertical axis represents the Self, the true essence of a given being; each of the innumerable horizontal planes constitutes a separate plane of manifestation. Human life on earth is only one of these planes. A given being can manifest itself only once on any particular plane. Therefore you cannot be born more than once as a human.

Like much of Guenon's thought, this is rigorously precise and would seem to be irrefutable except for one thing. Guenon assumes that any given plane—such as earthly, human life—is static. But in fact there is nothing to prove that this is so. On the contrary, the earth and earthly life are themselves changing form ceaselessly, whether we look at them from the perspective of geological ages or even of human history. The possibilities for human life on earth today are not the same as they were in ad 1000 or will be in ad 3000. You can never be born onto the same earth twice, any more than you can be born as the same person twice.

Moreover, there is little evidence for Guenon's claim that his view is the true teaching of Hinduism and Buddhism. Teachers of these lineages frequently speak of reincarnation in ways that are far more similar to the Theosophical view than to his. The Dalai Lama writes: "There have been and are found at the present time, many incidents illustrating rebirth, from many countries in the world. From time to time small children talk about their work in a previous life and can name the family in which they lived. Sometimes it is possible to check such cases and so prove that the facts remembered by the child are not at all nonsense but are indeed true" (Dalai Lama, 28—29). This does not jibe with Guenon's claims that incarnation as a human takes place only once, yet the Dalai Lama's status as the exponent of a "traditional" doctrine is far higher than Guenon's own.

For a Hindu perspective, we might turn to Paramhansa Yogananda's classic Autobiography of a Yogi. Yogananda quotes his guru, Sri Yukteswar, as saying, "Beings with unredeemed earthly karma are not permitted after astral death to go the high causal sphere of cosmic ideas, but must shuttle to and fro from the physical and astral worlds only" (Yogananda, 428). The process of shuttling to and fro from the physical world would suggest that physical incarnation is not a once-only option. And again, the credentials of both Yogananda and Sri Yukteswar as transmitters of traditional teaching are far higher than Guenon's.

Guenon's denunciation of Theosophy includes its teachings on karma, "by which [say the Theosophists] the conditions of each existence are determined by actions committed during previous existences." He counters: "The word 'karma' quite simply means 'action' and nothing else. It has never had the sense of causality, and even less has it ever designated that special causation whose nature we have just indicated" (Guenon, Theosophy, 107-08). While it is true that karma can simply mean "action," as Guenon says, it is used in more senses than that.

Again, practically every discussion of these matters by a Hindu or Buddhist teacher agrees not with Guenon, but with Theosophy. Pandit Rajmani Tigunait of the Himalayan Institute writes, "Each school of Hindu philosophy accepts the immutable law of karma, which states that for every effect there is a cause, and for every action there is a reaction. A man performs his actions and receives remunerations for them" (Tigunait, 24). As we have seen above, Sri Yukteswar also uses the word in this sense.

Other charges of Guenon's are equally erroneous. In one footnote he remarks, "The Theosophists reproduce...a confusion of the 'uninitiated' orientalists: Lamaism has never been a part of Buddhism" (Guenon, Theosophy, 130). But here it is Guenon who is reproducing a confusion of the "orientalists"—the nineteenth-century European scholars who were the first to treat Eastern religion in an academic fashion. The term "Lamaism" does not exist, or have any equivalent, in Tibetan; in fact it is merely a name for Tibetan Buddhism that was invented by the orientalists. As far back as 1835, the scholar Isaac Jacob Schmidt declared, "It hardly seems necessary to remark that Lamaism is a purely European invention and is not known in Asia." Even by Guenon's time the term had fallen into disrepute (Lopez, 15). Elsewhere, challenging the existence of HPB's Mahatmas, Guenon insists, "the very word 'Mahatma' never had the meaning she attributed to it, for in reality the word indicates a metaphysical principle and cannot be applied to human beings" (Guenon, Theosophy, 39). This contention is refuted by the practice of all of India, which uses the word to refer to the revered Mohandas Ghandi.

Having seen all this, we are led to ask what prompted Guenon's assault. One answer lies in this statement: "If so-called Theosophical doctrine is examined as a whole, it is at once apparent that the central point is the idea of 'evolution.' Now this idea is absolutely foreign to Easterners, and even in the West it is of quite recent date" (Guenon, Theosophy, 97). He adds that the Theosophists regard reincarnation "as the means by which evolution is effected, first for each particular human and consequently for all humanity and even for the entire universe" (Guenon, Theosophy, 104). Moreover, he writes, "We have...presented the doctrine of evolution as constituting the very core of the entire Theosophical doctrine" (Guenon, Theosophy, 293).

Here Guenon stands on firmer ground. The concept of an evolving humanity in an evolving universe is very difficult to find in traditional Eastern texts. Blavatsky seems to be aware of this when she writes, "The day may come...when the 'Natural Selection,' as taught by Darwin and Herbert Spencer, will form only a part, in its ultimate modification, of our Eastern doctrine of Evolution, which will be Manu and Kapila esoterically explained" (The Secret Doctrine, I, 600; emphasis Blavatsky's). As the Theosophist Anna F. Lemkow observes, "Blavatsky integrated the idea of evolution with the venerable idea of the hierarchy of being" (Lemkow, 128; emphasis Lemkow's).

Before Blavatsky's time, while the doctrines of karma and reincarnation were known to the East and at least to some in the West, these ideas did not entail evolution. (One tantalizing exception appears in Rumi's famous lines "I died a mineral, and became a plant. I died a plant and rose an animal. I died an animal and I was man. Why should I fear? When was I less by dying?") That is, an individual monad was not thought to progress or evolve merely by virtue of going through endless incarnations; rather incarnation was viewed as a ceaseless whirligig that runs endlessly round and round and from which only moksha or liberation provides an exit. This is the gist of the Wheel of Life in Buddhist art, which shows the six lokas or realms—those of the gods, demigods, humans, animals, hungry ghosts, and denizens of hell—as a cycle of bondage whose chains are the Three Poisons of desire, anger, and obliviousness. By merit an individual may mount to the abode of the gods, with their abundance of pleasures; but when his good karma is exhausted, he falls back down to the hell realms and starts all over again. Only enlightenment can break the cycle. The Wheel of Fortune card in the Tarot contains a similar teaching.

Theosophy, by contrast, often portrays evolution as more or less automatic. By passing through countless incarnations throughout all the races, round, and globes, eventually each monad will attain divinity. Esoteric development is meant chiefly to accelerate this process for those who want to move faster—ideally with the goal of service to others. This version of evolution differs from the conventional Darwinian view in that the latter has no direction or purpose; it is merely the blind and adventitious result of adaptation to natural circumstances.

This integration of evolution with the esoteric doctrine may be the most seminal idea that Theosophy has introduced to world culture. It has been echoed and amplified by any number of thinkers—Henri Bergson, Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, Alfred North Whitehead, Sri Aurobindo—who have little or no connection with Theosophy per se. It has been picked up by the New Age movement and its present-day successors: The Reality Sandwich Web site, for example, has the tag line "Evolving consciousness, bite by bite."

Whether or not the Theosophical view of evolution is right, it seems harmless enough. Why should Guenon have hated it so intensely? For Guenon, tradition is the ne plus ultra of human life. He conceives of tradition as a spiritual hierarchy, with higher knowledge emanating from a now-hidden spiritual center to all of humankind through the "orthodox" traditions, among whom he includes (with many caveats and qualifications) the great world religions as well as certain other lines such as Freemasonry. In the present age, the Kali Yuga, the age of darkness, this transmission of traditional knowledge—the "doctrine," as he often styles it—has become almost completely blocked. Because this is the result of a long cosmic cycle, there is not a great deal one can do about it except wait for its end and in the meantime find refuge in one or another of the last holdouts of genuine tradition. Guenon took his own advice. In 1930 he moved to Cairo, where he converted to Islam and lived until his death in 1951.

For Guenon, the idea of evolution is pernicious because it denies the truth about the present era. We are not in an ascending arc toward greater consciousness; we are at the very nadir of a cycle, in what he called "the reign of quantity" (the title of his most famous book), and to pretend that we are evolving is more than deluded; it smacks of the handiwork of sinister—"counterinitiatic"—forces (see, e.g., Guenon, Theosophy, 272n.).

Still other charges of Guenon's against Theosophy are true, but most readers today would hesitate to take his side on the issues. He correctly contends, for example, that the Theosophical Society in India struggled against the caste system, adding, "Europeans generally display so much hostility to caste because they are incapable of understanding the profound principles on which it rests" (Guenon, Theosophy, 276). It is true that the Vedas, the Laws of Manu, and the Bhagavad Gita all validate the caste system on the grounds that each of the castes represent one of the bodily parts of the cosmic man. But there are probably not many today who would want to support such a system, no matter how many holy texts endorse it.

There are more elements to Guenon's critique of Theosophy than I can do justice to here, principally his denial of HPB's bona fides and of the existence of the Masters. Dealing with these issues—which have been explored from any number of angles—is beyond the scope of this article.

What can we make of all this? To begin with, Guenon deserves his place among the foremost esotericists of the twentieth century. His metaphysical writings—such as Man and His Becoming according to the Vedanta, The Multiple States of Being, The Symbolism of the Cross—are models of depth and lucidity in a field that is overgrown with profuse and meaningless verbiage. But in a curious way Guenon's greatest strength is also his greatest weakness. His view of "traditional" metaphysics is of a Cartesian clarity and precision (although Guenon would have hated the analogy). And yet it is precisely this Cartesian precision that constitutes the chief problem with his thought. It cannot accommodate anything that does not fit into its elegantly geometrical grid, that partakes of the untidiness of ordinary reality; hence Guenon's relentless and indiscriminate hatred of the modern world. Everything of the Kali Yuga is reprehensible. There is nothing to do but hide in one of the last holdouts of "tradition" until a new age dawns.

It is not a hopeful vision; or rather its hope is based on the complete and utter ruin of the world that we see around us. Years ago one former Traditionalist (as Guenon's followers are often known) confessed to me that he had to drop it all because it was making him too depressed. Some Traditionalists have not been satisfied with Guenon's rather passive position and have sought to undermine what they see as the evil, materialistic milieu of the contemporary West. Thus in Europe Traditionalism has often fueled an impulse toward extreme rightist politics. One well-known Traditionalist, the Romanian scholar of comparative religions Mircea Eliade, supported the fascist Legion of the Archangel Michael (which he unsuccessfully tried to influence along Traditionalist lines) in pre—World War II Romania (Sedgwick, 113—15); another, the Italian nobleman Julius Evola, was not only connected with Mussolini's Fascist party (which he also tried to turn in a Traditionalist direction, equally unsuccessfully; he would later make the same attempt with Germany's Nazi party) but served as the doyen of far right elements in postwar Europe, some of them terrorists (Sedgwick, 98—109; 179—87). Still another form of Traditionalism penetrated to Russia during and after the Soviet era, where it mutated into an increasingly influential movement called Neo-Eurasianism, which holds that Russia should dominate the Eurasian land mass as a counterweight to American influence (Sedgwick, ch. 12).

Traditionalism has also fueled the anti-Western reaction in the Muslim world. While Traditionalism is an extremely obscure philosophy in the West, "in Iran and Turkey Traditionalism occupies a far more important position in public discourse than is the case elsewhere," as Mark Sedgwick observes on his blog. (A Web site moderated by Sedgwick, http://traditionalistblog.blogspot.com , is a good resource for delving into these issues.) In prerevolutionary Iran, the Traditionalist scholar Seyyed Hossein Nasr was a protege of the Shah, under whose patronage Nasr established the Imperial Iranian Academy of Philosophy as a Traditionalist bastion. Nasr's Traditionalism backfired in his native country: it helped inspire the Islamic revolution of 1979, forcing him to emigrate to the U.S., where today he is a professor of Islamic studies at the George Washington University.

In the English-speaking world, Traditionalism has been more benign and less politicized. Its most prominent advocate in the U.S. is Huston Smith, author of The World's Religions, who published a book in 1976 entitled Forgotten Truth: The Common Vision of the World's Religions containing his exposition of Guenon's thought (including a chapter echoing Guenon's critique of evolution called "Hope, Yes; Progress, No.") In Britain, the most prominent adherent of this school is the Prince of Wales, who set up the Traditionalist-oriented Temenos Academy in 1990 as an umbrella for his cultural projects (Sedgwick, 214).

There has even been some recent interpenetration between Traditionalism and Theosophy: William Quinn's 1997 book The Only Tradition attempted to reconcile the two, while the Theosophical Society's imprint Quest Books has published The Transcendent Unity of Religions, an important work by Frithjof Schuon, Guenon's most influential disciple.

Guenon remains unknown to the larger culture (Bill Moyers's 1996 PBS documentary on Huston Smith made no reference to
Guenon's influence on Smith), and yet his presence has been remarkably pervasive in the modern world he so despised. Today we must, I think, approach Guenon with the same clarity and discrimination that we must apply to any esoteric teaching—including Theosophy. He is a figure of uncommon brilliance, but contrary to his own self-portrayal, he does not come across as a figure of Olympian remoteness and serenity. He had a grudge against the world around him—one that was no doubt as much personal and psychological as it was spiritual—and following him too far in this direction will most likely lead to confusion and distress.


References

Blavatsky, H.P. The Letters of H.P. Blavatsky: Vol. 1, 1861—79. John Algeo, ed. Wheaton: Quest, 2003.
———. The Secret Doctrine. Two volumes. Wheaton: Quest, 1993 [1888].
The Dalai Lama XIV. The Opening of the Wisdom-Eye. 2nd ed. Wheaton: Quest, 1991.
Guenon, Rene. L'erreur spirite. 2nd ed. Paris: Editions Traditionelles, 1952.
———. Symbolism of the Cross. Angus McNabb, trans. London: Luzac, 1958.
———. Theosophy: History of a Pseudo-Religion. Alvin Moore Jr. et al., trans. Hillsdale, N.Y.: Sophia Perennis, 2003.
Lemkow, Anna F. The Wholeness Principle: Dynamics of Unity within Science, Religion, and Society. 2nd ed. Wheaton: Quest, 1995.
Lopez, Donald S., Jr. Prisoners of Shangri-La: Tibetan Buddhism and the West. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1999.
Quinn, William W., Jr. The Only Tradition. Albany: State University of New York Press, 1997.
Sedgwick, Mark. Against the Modern World: Traditionalism and the Secret Intellectual History of the Twentieth Century. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004.
Tigunait, Pandit Rajmani. Seven Systems of Hindu Philosophy. Honesdale, Pa.: Himalayan Institute, 1983.
Yoganananda, Paramhansa. Autobiography of a Yogi. 6th ed. Los Angeles: Self Realization Fellowship, 1955.


Richard Smoley's latest book is The Dice Game of Shiva: How Consciousness Creates the Universe (New World Library).



*Quotations from this book are my own translations. An English version of this work entitled The Spiritist Fallacy was published in 2004.—R.S.

**Guenon's concept of orthodoxy is chiefly based on his understanding of the Hindu Vedanta (with many references to other traditions). Early in his career, he regarded Buddhism as "heterodox" (as it is from the Hindu perspective); although later in life he grudgingly granted it the status of a valid esoteric doctrine.


The Coming of the Sixth Sun: Mayan Views of a New Cycle

By Barbara J. Sadtler

Originally printed in the Winter 2010 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Sadtler, Barbara J. "The Coming of the Sixth Sun: Mayan Views of a New Cycle." Quest  98. 1 (Winter 2010): 14-17, 34.

Theosophical Society - Barbara Sadtler, M.A., R.Y.T., has been studying with the Maya for several years and walks a parallel path with Tantra yoga. She teaches workshops and individual sessions to empower Westerners with the use of Mayan and yogic tools. She is actively involved in the Shift of the Ages project, Common Passion, the International Association of Yoga Therapists, and the Himalayan Institute. You can find her monthly blogs on www.maya-portal.net  and http://BreatheAsYouRead.blogspot.com .As our world gets smaller and livability issues intensify, indigenous wisdom is making its way into the limelight, spearheaded by a growing awareness of the end date of the Mayan calendar in the year 2012. Ancient Mayan prophecies foretold a time when foreigners would be hungry to learn from the Maya. For more than a decade, Don Alejandro Cirilo Perez Oxlaj, also known as Wakatel Utiw or Wandering Wolf, an esteemed thirteenth-generation elder from Guatemala, has stepped into that teaching role, orally transmitting Mayan prophecies across the globe. He explains that his destiny is to be the messenger and ours is to trust him enough to listen. He talks about our planetary predicament and what we need to do to live more consciously. These teachings, the Maya say, are what we have unwittingly been waiting for.

Ironically, today average Mayans pay little attention to the year 2012. Much of their reality is shaped by abject poverty and requires them to focus on day-to-day survival. Their potentially bleak situation, however, is transformed into something magical by the eloquent languages that they use, the colorful customs the communities support, and the pervasiveness of the Mayan cosmic vision. It is Westerners who have brought their interpretation of 2012 to the Maya. Having spent time among the Maya and studying with Grandfather Cirilo Perez Oxlaj, his wife Elizabeth, and other indigenous shamans and elders, I suspect that if we Westerners venture too far out of context in interpreting their calendars, we may miss the point entirely. The true value of the Mayan calendars is found in synthesizing their wisdom into our hearts and living it moment to moment. What follows is my understanding of the Mayan perspective of time cycles and calendars, embellished with pertinent teachings from Grandfather Cirilo, all of which I hope will add discernment to the 2012 discussion.

The ancient Maya possessed an extraordinary aptitude for creating intricate and intermeshing time cycles. Time was a way of being to them, and they revered each day as a gift from the heavens. The Maya were arguably the most sophisticated timekeepers in human history, and to this day Mayans assign special "daykeepers" to track time in order to assure abundance, direction, and security.

Depending upon which scientific discipline is reporting, the Maya had from three to seventeen calendars. According to Grandfather Cirilo, the Maya kept twenty calendars for various purposes, but many were destroyed during the Spanish conquest in the sixteenth century. Because the Mayans base all of their calendars on a vigesimal system (i.e., multiples of twenty) and frequently refer to the sacred significance of the numbers twenty and thirteen (they say there are twenty digits and thirteen joints in the human body), it would make most sense to say that the Maya used twenty different but interrelated calendars.

Archaeologists commonly refer to a calendar that was shared by all Mesoamerican cultures, the haab calendar, used primarily for bookkeeping and agrarian purposes. This is a solar year system of 360 days divided into an eighteen-month, twenty-day cycle. Because the solar year is longer than 360 days, five days have been inserted between the end of one 360-day cycle and the beginning of another. This period, called the wayeb, has been synchronized with the celebrations of the Catholic Holy Week. This time also marks the change from the dry season to the rainy season. Although the wayeb is considered unlucky or hellish by some Maya, it is also a period of renewal, celebration, chaos, rituals of sacrifice, and ornate, lengthy processions that stream through the streets of Guatemalan towns and villages. By end of the wayeb on resurrection Sunday, a typical Mayan is depleted from all the celebrations, with energy remaining only for reflection and gratitude that this intensity will not happen for another year.

The Maya also use a sacred daily calendar, commonly called the tzolkin calendar, to deepen their connection to the divine nature of the universe and assist them with the inherent challenges of life. The tzolkin is a 260-day divinatory calendar that is based on the cycles of the Pleiades, the "heart of the heavens," as described in their creation story, the Popol Vuh, and in generations of elders' storytelling. In the Popol Vuh the people pledge to honor each day because each day is a deity. This is why the tzolkin calendar has been in continual use over the millennia. It does not exist in a written form, but has been passed down through generations in the oral tradition.

A tzolkin consists of a cycle involving twenty day signs and thirteen numbers, each of which represents a sacred, archetypal energy. Each day is signified by a glyph that represents the lord (deity) of the day in the form of plant, animal, ancestor, or force of nature. Numbers are created using a place rotation system, which combines only three symbols: eggs, dots, and lines, to represent the numerical form of the most important gods and goddesses. These are the sacred "number beings" that influence the twenty "lords of the day." Together each glyph and number creates a frequency that harmonizes with the universe. Working together like two cogged gears, the twenty day signs intermesh with the thirteen numbers, presenting a new combination each day (see figure 1).
.

Theosophical Society - A representation of the Mayan sacred tzolkin. Note the interlocking "gears" of the two calendars.

Figure
1. A representation of the Mayan sacred tzolkin. Note the interlocking "gears" of the two calendars. Source: www.mayanmajix.com .



Since every individual is born on one of these days, the glyph and number combination of your day of birth becomes your "day sign" (also known as "sacred sun sign"). This is the energy you carry in your heart, reflecting your intention for being in this lifetime and your soul's purpose. It is your sacred watermark of creation.

The key to using the tzolkin is to know the Mayan deities. Our chief sources for this pantheon are codices written in the Mayan hieroglyphic script. Although many of these texts were destroyed by the Spaniards, a few survive today. All Mayan deities personify some aspect of the natural world, such as childbirth, prey and predator, climate changes, elements, seasons, and time segments. These deities may be called upon to "inhabit" the body and soul at times of pivotal life experience, including rites of passage, traveling, and giving advice. Even ordinary activities such as weaving at the loom or working in the fields are believed to have greater potential when blessings from the right deity are requested.

Today there are several English versions of the tzolkin that provide easy-to-use descriptions and methods for determining your day sign. Some of these combine the tzolkin with the Gregorian calendar, enabling Westerners to consult the tzolkinon a daily basis. A ritual of morning reflection on the significance of the day's energy and setting an intention for the day's events creates an enlivened sense of purpose not found in a Gregorian Day-Timer. Use of the tzolkin brings a sacred element to each day, enabling the individual to stay present and feel gratitude for the cosmic forces that guide daily life. Many Westerners report an uncanny sense of alignment with cosmic energies and have experienced increased synchronicities and greater centeredness by using this sacred tool.

Understanding and honoring the archetypal energy intrinsic to each day can be accomplished through study, shamanic guidance, and daily meditations. Because the Mayan pantheon is both extensive and overlapping, it is important to learn what the energies are and how to correlate them to events each day. With patience, patterns emerge. Alignment with forces that foster one's greatest good becomes more tangible with practice. A daykeeper's goal is to align every activity with nature's rhythm and manage whatever comes. With practice, connection with the energies may enable one to remain in a reverent attunement with the cosmic flow.

Daykeeping becomes even more fulfilling by knowing one's sacred Mayan cross, la cruz Maya. This comprehensive system is calculated from the tzolkin and provides five additional dimensions to the heart-based day sign. The top position of the cross is the day sign on the date of your conception. The left position is energy that influences your challenges; the right, your gifts; and the bottom position reflects the energy influencing your destiny. Additionally, a year bearer day sign, brought in from the haab calendar, is included. These five glyph names, along with the name of the day sign, may be repeated together as a personal mantra. The number of spirit guides in your auric field is determined by the sum of the galactic tones (numbers) in the cross configuration. La cruz Maya may provide worthy assistance to one on a path of self-realization.

The tzolkin calendar is the focus of Mayan spirituality. Each day is auspicious for connecting with the lord of that day and asking for particular types of assistance. In fire ceremonies, shamans call upon the deities of each of the twenty days, one by one. They will do this all day long, especially on "offering" days. This elegant oratory assists in the healing of the participants, their loved ones, and the village.

The most widely known Mayan calendar, however, is known as the Long Count, and it is the source of the 2012 date. Most of the pyramids and stelae found throughout Maya country contain dates inscribed according to this calendar. The Long Count consists of thirteen baktuns, each baktun equaling 144,000 days, a cycle of 5,126 years. In the twentieth century, British anthropologist Sir J. Eric S. Thompson, in conjunction with John T. Goodman and Juan H. Martinez-Hernandez, correlated the Mayan Long Count with the Gregorian calendar. Their work, widely accepted by Western researchers, dates the beginning of the Long Count to August 11, 3114 bc. There is less agreement among Western researchers about the end date. Many peg it to December 21, 2012, but Swedish microbiologist and author Carl Johan Calleman, author of The Mayan Calendar and the Transformation of Consciousness calculates that this cycle will end on October 28, 2011. Grandfather Cirilo and other indigenous elders do not necessarily agree with these specific dates, but do believe that we are currently in the end stages of a time cycle lasting approximately 5000 years.

     

Theosophical Society - A key artifact of the Long Count calendar was discovered in Cobe, Mexico, in the 1940s. Stele 1 (figure 2) is carbon-dated to be approximately 1300 years old and has been deciphered to reveal dates trillions of years back in time. It is theorized that the Mayan Long Count calendar depicts the hierarchical nature of creation cycles, with each cycle being a multiple of 13 x 20?. This indicates that the Maya had names for time periods dating back 16.4 million years, as well as fourteen earlier unnamed cycles. Some experts believe that the named periods, appearing in the center of the stele, coincide with the evolutionary cycles described by Western science, meaning that the ancient Maya may have been aware of these cycles well before modern science.  Some contemporary research suggests that the Long Count was created by the Maya to time the evolution of consciousness. If this is true, the idea is not unique, as the Vedic yuga system has been linking time cycles with levels of collective consciousness for centuries. In the West, 2012-based theory is growing and encompasses a wide range of ideas relating to consciousness and science: philosopher Jean Gebser's complexification theory; Ken Wilber's integral theory of consciousness; microbiologist Carl Calleman's acceleration of time/creation; John Major Jenkins' precession of the equinoxes; physicist Nassim Haramein's unified field interpretations; and Gregg Braden's fractal time, to name a few.

Figure 2. Cobe Stele 1. The Mayan Long Count Calendar.

      

A key artifact of the Long Count calendar was discovered in Cobe, Mexico, in the 1940s. Stele 1 (figure 2) is carbon-dated to be approximately 1300 years old and has been deciphered to reveal dates trillions of years back in time. It is theorized that the Mayan Long Count calendar depicts the hierarchical nature of creation cycles, with each cycle being a multiple of 13 x 20?. This indicates that the Maya had names for time periods dating back 16.4 million years, as well as fourteen earlier unnamed cycles. Some experts believe that the named periods, appearing in the center of the stele, coincide with the evolutionary cycles described by Western science, meaning that the ancient Maya may have been aware of these cycles well before modern science.

Some contemporary research suggests that the Long Count was created by the Maya to time the evolution of consciousness. If this is true, the idea is not unique, as the Vedic yuga system has been linking time cycles with levels of collective consciousness for centuries. In the West, 2012-based theory is growing and encompasses a wide range of ideas relating to consciousness and science: philosopher Jean Gebser's complexification theory; Ken Wilber's integral theory of consciousness; microbiologist Carl Calleman's acceleration of time/creation; John Major Jenkins' precession of the equinoxes; physicist Nassim Haramein's unified field interpretations; and Gregg Braden's fractal time, to name a few.

For the Maya, the end date notation on the true Long Count calendar is 13.0.0.0.0. This dating method makes use of five different measures of time: the day (known as a kin); the twenty-day period (known as a uinal); a 360-day period (a tun); a 7200-day period, roughly equivalent to 19.7 years (a katun), and a period of 144,000 days, roughly equivalent to 394 years (a baktun.). The date 13.0.0.0.0 indicates thirteen baktuns, zero katuns, zero tuns, zero uinals, and zero kins since the beginning of the Long Count in 3114 bc. Grandfather Cirilo states that the next to last phase of this cycle, called the Vale of the Nine Hells, began about 500 years ago, with the arrival of the conquistador Hernando Cortés in Mexico in 1521 and lasted until 1987, which marked the beginning of the "Time of Warning." This was publicized worldwide as the Harmonic Convergence, introducing the Mayan end date of 2012 into Western consciousness. The Time of Warning will be upon us until the Mayan Long Count reaches 13.0.0.0.0. The next day the numbering will be reset to 0.0.0.0.0, and, it is believed, the shift of the ages will begin.

The indigenous peoples of the Americas say these shifts have happened before. Their traditions teach the existence of previous, prehistoric civilizations on our planet. As described in the Popol Vuh, the Quiché Mayan bible, the gods tried several times to create sentient beings with higher capacities. Previous peoples were made from other materials such as mud and wood, but because they did not possess or develop the capacity to worship the creator, those cycles perished. Contemporary humans, made from corn, are the most advanced version of the species to date because they know how to speak, pray, make offerings, and perform ceremonies for the gods. Each of these ages was ruled by a god of an element, such as wind, fire, or water, and was destroyed by its opposite: the world of fire, for example, was destroyed by water. Some hold that we are in the fourth world now, moving to the fifth; others state that we are entering the sixth. This may seem like mythology to Westerners, but Dennis Tedlock, an anthropologist and translator of the Popol Vuh, thinks it is more accurate to use the term "mythistory" because these beliefs are intimately woven into the reality of the Maya.

Grandfather Cirilo speaks of an extended period of darkness that will come at the end of this "sun" or world age. The prophecies foretell that the earth's second sun will pass in front of our existing sun, causing a period of darkness that will last between one and six days. He is ambiguous about the specific date for this occurrence, but indicates it may happen sometime around the Gregorian year 2012.

Clearly one of the most important elements of this teaching is the existence of a mysterious second sun that will eclipse our own and cause several days of darkness. The concept of a twin star can be found in other indigenous beliefs. The Dogon tribe of west Africa, who believe they came from the star cluster Sirius, knew, without the aid of instrumentation, that Sirius possessed two smaller stars that are invisible to the naked eye, as Robert Temple described in his celebrated book The Sirius Mystery. The Vedas refer to a similar idea. In Astrology of the Seers, Vedic scholar David Frawley writes:

We have two suns, an object that modern astronomers may call a Quasar, whose light may be obscured by dust or nebulae in the region of the galactic center. This "dark companion" appears to possess a negative magnetic field that obstructs cosmic light from the galactic center from reaching the Earth. Through this, it creates cycles of advance and decline of civilizations.

I have sought out conversations with astronomers, who agree that this is a feasible scenario given what we know about our universe. The astronomer's problem stems from the difficulty of isolating such a star and predicting whether it will eclipse our sun. As powerful as our telescopes have become, there are too many variables to determine with certainty if, how, and when such an event will occur, although thousands of astronomers worldwide, professional and amateur, are vigorously engaged in the hunt.

The elders say that at the end of the Long Count calendar a new sun, the sixth sun, is approaching. They do not specify exactly what this means. This new sun may replace our old one or continue on another path. Their legends say that this has happened before and will happen again. Herein may lay the basis for the Mayan fascination with time. If the second sun does appear around the year 2012, the Maya will gain a level of mathematical and astronomical credibility they have never before experienced, even at the peak of their civilization 1500 years ago.

Grandfather Cirilo implies that the mechanized world, dissociated from nature and the earth, will be disturbed and destroyed at some level during the hours of darkness. This, we should note, already appears to be occurring. We may be in the shift, right now, in this moment, and this process may have been taking place over a long period of time. The shift of the ages may not be a single cataclysmic event, but a series of them. In any event, it is sometimes said that the prophesied days of darkness will be an optimal time for meditation, as collectively the meditators may hold the biospheric space while the shift of the ages unfolds, helping to usher in the sixth sun and greater levels of consciousness.

For some, this shift could revive ancient wisdom and lead to peace and harmony on our planet. For others, it may not be so. Grandfather Cirilo warns that if humans do not awaken and continue to kill and pollute, a new day will not dawn. He stresses that at this time it is critical to live close to the earth and realize the connections among all of life. He is resolute about the need for unification and cultivation of respect for all humans and for nature. Being privy to these prophecies allows for adequate preparation and adjustment to sustainable, simple, and conscious living. In light of the Mayan teachings, there is ample reason to be fascinated with time, to watch the skies, and to be attentive to indigenous ways. It may be critical for our survival.


Barbara Sadtler, M.A., R.Y.T., has been studying with the Maya for several years and walks a parallel path with Tantra yoga. She teaches workshops and individual sessions to empower Westerners with the use of Mayan and yogic tools. She is actively involved in the Shift of the Ages project, Common Passion, the International Association of Yoga Therapists, and the Himalayan Institute. You can find her monthly blogs on www.maya-portal.net  and http://BreatheAsYouRead.blogspot.com .


Subcategories