Quest Magazine

 Printed in the Summer 2019 issue of Quest magazine.
Citation: Crawford, Don ,"Dimensions of Karma" Quest 107:3, pg 26-27

By Don Crawford 

The word karma, from the Sanskrit, is a term rather difficult for the Western-trained mind to clearly grasp in its full dimensions. The classic Christian expression of this concept is contained in the apostle Paul’s words: “Whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap” (Galatians 6:7). Other terms that express similar concepts are “destiny,” “just desserts,” and even “comeuppance.” The essence of the idea of karma is that whatever comes to the individual, physically, emotionally, or mentally, is due on the basis of past behavior or decision.

The idea of karma is supported by the belief that each individual creates his or her own life (or lives), now and in the future. The Divine has given each person irrevocable free will—the right to make choices from minute to minute. Each choice in turn carries its own consequence, just as the seed of a fruit invariably produces its own kind. Therefore the consequences of actions eventually and inescapably come home to their creator.

Occultists speak of karma as divine justice, and view it as part of the divine plan. As one of the Masters of the Wisdom expresses it, “Make and keep me every anchored in the justice of thy Plan. I am the epitome of perfection, living the life of God in Man.”

Our understanding of this cosmic cause-and-effect law of nature is complicated by its timing. Where the effect swiftly follows its cause, as when we stub our toe and instantly feel pain, the relationship is readily apparent. It takes a little more stretching of belief to accept cause-effect relationships with prolonged or delayed results, for example, after many years have elapsed, or several lifetimes.

Nevertheless, the idea that the conditions we harvest in our adult years were to a large extent sown during our earlier years is readily accepted, even by developmental psychologists. Is it that much of a leap to suggest that the harvests we accrue in one lifetime might be the results of the sowings of previous lifetimes? Admittedly, it does take more stretching of our capacity for belief, but this is relative to the degree of our open-mindedness.

Karma is also known to the occultists as the major law of manifestation. Nothing comes from nothing. For every effect there must be a progenitor—a cause. Everything in manifestation is in constant motion, and this motion creates imbalances. This is the basic cause of karma and reincarnation. From life to life, we learn how to reduce the number of imbalances we create through wrongful choices and decisions until we have reduced these almost to the point of nonexistence. At this stage, we have learned to live with poise, balance, and inner harmony regardless of external circumstances. When we learn to live in harmony within ourselves and balance in our relationships with others, we live within much more than we live without, and our incarnations on this planet come to an end.

For those who accept reincarnation as fact, it becomes readily apparent that at any given time we are simultaneously reaping and sowing karma. Every day we make decisions that will eventuate in consequences, while at the same time we are reaping the consequences of previous decisions.

Making decisions is in fact the most obvious process in living life. We could hardly get up in the morning, go to work, cook a meal, or watch TV unless we decided to do so. Prolonged and consistent choices readily become habits. It is obvious that many things come to us not of our liking—as when we drink too much the night before and wake up with a proverbial headache in the morning, and we utter the oath “Never again!” But only those who are immature and irresponsible would deny the role of their own decisions in the outcome. It could be intimated from this that when it comes to recognizing our own karma, we tend toward the immature and irresponsible. But we are also influenced by the timetable factor, that is, the gap in time that sometimes occur between decisions and consequences. Freud’s concept of projection also comes to mind here—accusing others of what we see in ourselves.

Another occult concept associated with karma is that of the transformation of energies. This holds that karma can be modified or mitigated if deemed undesirable. Dostoevsky wrote brilliantly about this idea in his classic Crime and Punishment. The hero, Raskolnikov, murders an old pawnbroker and her sister, believing himself to be above the laws of man. The clever detective, Porfiry Petrovich, knows that Raskolnikov did it but is unable to prove it, thus freeing him from any manmade punishment.

Dostoevsky places the karma, and rightly so, directly upon the consciousness of the creator of the dastardly act. Eventually, Raskolnikov confesses to the unprovable crime so that he can make amends for his transgression against nature and man. This is a classic example of the law of the transformation of energies. Raskolnikov chooses to expend a large portion of his available energies in atoning for his crime, and accepts exile in Siberia. We can all atone for our past deeds if we so choose: it is one way of balancing the books of negative behavior and consequent karma.

The concepts of reincarnation and karma lend themselves to the analogy of a school: in fact, there is an old mystical expression that says, “Life is a school for souls.” The rounds of different lifetimes are the various “grades” to be mastered, and reincarnation is the vehicle for returning the “pupil,” or the soul, to the school so that it can learn the required wisdom needed to move on to other domains after mastering this material plane of existence.

It has been claimed that each new life begins at exactly the point where the old one ended. Knowing this, the individual has the choice of either accelerating or retarding his or her “graduation.” But in a sense, even being aware of having this choice is a matter of karma , requiring one to have previously planted the seeds for this discovery. It is a matter of growth and consciousness expansion, which comes about through the digesting of life’s experiences, over and over, until one “gets it.”

The teachings of the Buddha were geared toward showing the chela, or disciple, how to put a quick end to the rounds required to attain liberation, or nirvana. He called the core of his teachings the Noble Eightfold Path, including, among others, right values, right thinking, right actions, right speech, and right occupation. “Right occupation” basically means work without doing harm to another. Harm to others, or himsa, is a major hindrance to spiritual growth. Ahimsa, or harmlessness, is a major contributor toward spiritual growth,

According to the Buddha, once all the individual’s karma has been worked out or transformed, meaning that all past sowings have been harvested and no new sowings remain, except those that help the individual to undergo the needed initiations, then that individual’s books are balanced, and the soul of that individual can go on to its just reward—in Buddhist terms, nirvana. Christians speak of  this as “return to the house of the Father,” or simply going to heaven. In the terms of ancient Gnosticism, learning all the worldly lessons is rewarded by ascension, whereby the individualized soul rises and reunites with the body of the One, the Universal, Absolute, or the Divinity, at least for a time.

Ascension comes about as the result of having attained mastery over each hierarchical initiation, related to the energy levels of the human organism. Initiations are analogous to the grades or rounds in our school above, and ascension represents the mastery of the school’s life lessons, and the return of the soul to the “house of the Father.” This is, in essence, the occult interpretation of the biblical story of the prodigal son.

The parallels drawn here are based on the idea that there is a common Ancient or Ageless Wisdom underlying all the world’s religions. If we could accept this common core and acknowledge the universal intelligence behind all of nature’s phenomena, perhaps, instead of focusing on superficial differences, which tend to alienate one faith or culture from another, we could find common ground on which to build a lasting brotherhood ( and sisterhood) and discover the unity of all that IS.

Don Crawford received his M.S.W. degree from UC Berkeley during the heyday of the sixties. During his forty-year clinical experience, he studied human behavior from a variety of positions. When he discovered Theosophy, he knew it to be the only philosophy he could accept and absorb. He has written a book entitled The Sage Institute, available for sale on Amazon. He is retired and continues to write for linkedin.post about the evolution of the human race. He has been published in both national and international journals.

Printed in the Summer 2019 issue of Quest magazine.
Citation: Moss, Robert ,"The Grand Duke Calls My Name" Quest 107:3, pg 24-25

By Robert Moss

Sigmund Freud called dreams the “royal road to the unconscious,” but to author and dream explorer Robert Moss, they are more: portals to the imaginal realm, a higher reality that exists at the intersection of time and eternity. The traveler’s tales in his new book, Mysterious Realities, spring from direct experience in the many worlds, in places as diverse as the temple of the Great Goddess at Ephesus, Dracula country in Transylvania, and the astral realm of Luna. Below is an excerpt.

A story is calling to me, through my window in a stone tower in a dry wood, near the medieval French town of St. Martin de Londres. I hear sangliers—wild boars—snaffling and snorting and muttering red secrets. I reach behind my back, to the place above my left kidney, where a boar marked me in another country. The boar is part of an old, old story that snares me from time to time. I would prefer not to reenter that now.

A woman is laughing manically near the huge swimming pool, which was drained when the leaves started to fall. Her screech is enraging the boars and allows me little chance to sleep, even when I close the window and the door to my little balcony.

At last the woman goes to bed, or passes out, and the boars fall silent.

I drift on the bed, half in my body and half out of it.

Hours later, when the woods are silent under the Peak of the Sainted Wolf, a long cry reaches for me.

Hoooooooooo!

The cry is repeated, then veers into a popping, screeching, jabbing monologue. Somewhere in there, I hear my name.

The windows rattle, the bedside cabinet shakes, a door slams on the landing. The moody winds of the Midi are gusting wildly tonight.

Robert!

The cry is closer now, eerie yet seductive. My name is in there, no doubt of it. The accent is French: Ro-bear! In part of myself, I want to rise from my bed and fly out the window, to see what’s up. Perhaps I can join the night owl and share its vision. Owl eyes have helped me in the dark before.

Some instinct of self-preservation restrains me. Who knows what it would take to get back to my body? The Traveler in me is ready for the assignment. I feel him expanding, stretching my energy field, threatening to slide out from my feet if I won’t let him out from any other place. I am firm. I am not going to let my double leave the room. I need as much of me in the room as I can manage.

The owl that called my name is the chouette, or tawny owl. I know that in this corner of France, they call it the Grand Duc. I try to tame my situation by shaping a witticism: when you hear the owl call your name, it is a comfort to know that you got one at the top of the social register.

I don’t find this funny enough. My sense of humor is languishing. This always means trouble. I don’t want to leave any world or come back to one—without my sense of humor.

With a deep sigh, I lie down on my back, nose pointed at the ceiling. This is the posture, and the time of night, when I find that inner guides become available. There is one voice I have come to trust beyond all others.

Before I have framed my request for guidance, the voice cuts through my mental chatter, cold and sharp as a chef’s knife.

The time of your death is now.

I take a cold plunge. For a moment, I can’t breathe. It is exactly like falling into water half my body temperature. I am lost in a swirl of life memories, as I was when I nearly drowned as a boy.

I know the truth of what I have just been told. In the presence of Death, I think of all my unfinished business, of things I need to do, of promises not yet fulfilled, of people I love. I have told myself many times that I am ready to die any day, but tonight a protest rises within me. I am ready to go, but not yet.

I don’t plead, or rage, or try to make a deal. I just go over in my mind the things I will do if I have more time. I’ll make more time for family, for swimming, for loving. I’ll mend fences, make amends. I’ll do more as a teacher and healer, as best I can, for those I can help and inspire.

These calculations are met with supreme indifference.

I’ll create. I’ll bring new things into the world. I’ll tell better stories, and write them so more people will be encouraged to find their own bigger stories, and live those stories.

I feel an inner void. Has my visitor—I don’t want to name him right now—gone away?

There is a constriction in my throat. I am naked under the sheet, but it feels exactly as if a necktie—or a noose—is being tightened.

The time of your death is now.

He does not show himself. The pressure on my neck is slowly released. Ah, it’s not so hard to leave this body. My head, which I had raised against the pillows, droops over my chest. This is going to be so easy. I feel a tremendous need to rest, to sleep. I am letting myself go, not just the Traveler in me but all of me. It is done.

I raise up the body in the bed. The I that is speaking now is not identical to the one that just left, but indistinguishable from others and so very like my previous self that I don’t need to make out that I have changed. I died and came back, in a moment. And my world split. Another me, on a parallel road in the many worlds, has joined the countless selves that have died already. I wonder whether he has gone to that wonderful penthouse apartment in the scholar city that my traveling self loves to visit.

Dawn is breaking over the Pic St. Loup. It brings out the warmth in the red-tiled roof that slopes down below my balcony. The boars are still quiet.

The time of your death is now.

What’s this? It’s not over?

However, the sentence is suspended for now, pending further review. You know what you must do.

I go to the desk, pick up my fountain pen, and start writing, in my leather-bound journal, a story that I hope will entertain Death.

 Robert Moss is the author of Mysterious Realities and numerous other books about dreaming, shamanism, and imagination. He is a novelist, poet, and independent scholar, and the creator of Active Dreaming, an original synthesis of dreamwork and shamanism. He leads creative and shamanic adventures all over the world. Visit him online at www.mossdreams.com. This excerpt is reprinted by permission from the publisher, New World Library, newworldlibrary.com.

Excerpted from the book Mysterious Realities. Copyright ©2018 by Robert Moss. Printed with permission from New World Library — www.newworldlibrary.com.

Printed in the Summer 2019 issue of Quest magazine.
Citation: Hebert, Barbara ,"Healing Tragedy and Loss: The How and the Why" Quest 107:3, pg 21-23

By Barbara Hebert

One only has to keep up with current events to find tragedy and loss across the globe. None of us is immune from it. Surely all of us will experience tragedy and/or loss at some point through such things as death; abuse; neglect; homelessness; terrorism; poverty; aging; divorce; crime; illness; work and life transitions; pain; miscarriage; infertility; violence.

Dealing with tragedy and loss comprises two separate but equally important components: dealing with the situation in an emotionally healthy manner and understanding the why of the situation. In order to move forward in our spiritual journey, we need to work through tragedy and loss—emotionally as human beings and spiritually as part of the evolutionary journey. It is a profound process that requires time, effort, and insight.

It is important also to realize that healing may not occur on some levels. For example, someone who has been diagnosed with a terminal illness may not experience physical healing, but that does not mean that this individual can’t experience emotional healing and spiritual understanding.

The first component is dealing with the situation in an emotionally healthy manner. Doing this involves a process of several steps. It does not happen overnight, but  requires time and effort. Because it is a process, we do not take the various steps in a linear manner; we work on them simultaneously.

The first step occurs once we are over the initial shock of an experience. It focuses on the feelings elicited by the situation. We must allow ourselves to feel whatever feelings arise by simply allowing them to surface and experiencing them. This is not to suggest that we should wallow in the feelings, but we don’t want to suppress them either. Feelings are part of this human experience; therefore experiencing them and learning to deal with them are part of the process of becoming fully human.

What human components are involved, for example, in dealing with the loss of a loved one? Many people experience profound sadness, anger, loneliness, and possibly even guilt, just to name a few. Allowing oneself to actually feel these and any other emotions that arise, without judgment or suppression, comprises a critical part of healing. It is also important to allow ourselves to express feelings in a way that does not hurt ourselves or anyone else.

Listening to our internal self-messages is another crucial part of the process. In this step, we begin to observe ourselves and our thoughts objectively. What thoughts arise? After tragedy and loss, some individuals might think, “If I had only been a better [spouse, child, friend], then maybe this would not have happened.” Paying attention to how kind (or, more likely, unkind) we are being to ourselves with our thoughts provides us with essential information. It is important to examine these thoughts in an objective manner, such as, “Is it accurate to say that if I had been a better [spouse, child, friend], the loss would not have happened?” Very few individuals have the power to change the outcome of a given situation.

On  the other hand, none of us is perfect; therefore it is likely that we could have acted differently at times. At this point, it becomes imperative that we begin to accept our own imperfections and learn from them, which seems to be part of the human journey. If a loved one dies and a survivor has regrets about what has been said or done as well as about what has not been said or done, then he or she works to accept what has occurred and takes active steps to make sure that nothing is left unsaid or undone with others.

Accepting one’s imperfections goes hand in hand with the third step, which involves forgiving oneself for not being perfect. Self-forgiveness plays an extremely important role in this process. Most of us do not intentionally hurt others, yet we cause hurt unintentionally. We act in ways that we regret. We say things that we wish we hadn’t. Recognizing that we do our best, given the circumstances in which we are functioning, contributes to the process of self-forgiveness and ultimately helps us to deal with the painful events of life in a healthy manner.

Another step is to see ourselves realistically. As human beings, we tend to be self-involved. We tend to think we are the only ones who has experienced such an event, or we think we are the worst person in the world, and so on. These statements are simply not true. We are imperfect human beings, doing the best we can in a confusing and complicated world. All of us are learning, and no one is the only one, or the worst, or any other distortion our minds may concoct. We are emanations of the Divine, and as such, we are neither the best nor the worst. Tragedies and losses happen to everyone.

The final step in the process of dealing with difficult situations includes finding an empowering and uplifting support system. The importance of sharing heartache, pain, and suffering with others who can provide emotional support cannot be overstated. This support system may, and probably should, include a mental-health professional who can provide insight and guidance regarding the steps one needs to take.

The second major component of healing from tragedy or loss involves trying to understand the why. The Dalai Lama is purported to have said, “When we meet real tragedy in life, we can react in two ways—either by losing hope and falling into self-destructive habits or by using the challenge to find our inner strength.” Metaphysical ideas, readings, and theories can be helpful in providing the structure, that is, the why in understanding and dealing with misfortune in a healthy way.

For many years, I worked as a mental-health professional, both as a clinician whose expertise was in child sexual abuse and as an educator who worked with graduate and postgraduate counselors. Inevitably these young professionals would encounter clients who had experienced situations that defied explanation. For example, one client was a young woman had been sexually abused by numerous individuals in her lifetime, abandoned by her father, and neglected by her mother. Another example: a teenage client whose stepfather took pornographic pictures of her and posted them on websites.

Not surprisingly, new professionals would at times experience their own secondary trauma in hearing about the clients’ horrific situations. My role as an educator was to help them put the situation into perspective so that they could facilitate the client’s healing process. My first question to the counselor was almost always, “What is your worldview?” That is, “How does your worldview help you understand why these horrible things can happen to someone?” My role was not to share my worldview, but rather to elicit the counselor’s. The answer to that question varied from individual to individual. Some new professionals had already contemplated this issue while others had not considered it at all.

Why is it important to understand a clinician’s worldview? From my perspective, helpers (professional or nonprofessional) must have some structure, usually spiritual or religious, that explains why. Without an understanding of why, many people will struggle with the intensity of the work, may have difficulty in facilitating the healing process, and may burn out. Furthermore, if the counselor has an understanding of the why, then it is easier to facilitate the client’s own understanding of why these things happened.

Therefore it is critical to clarify one’s worldview, especially in relation to why these dreadful situations occur. For me, Theosophy, or the Ageless Wisdom, provides that explanation and has enabled me to work with sexual-abuse survivors, both children and adults, for many years. The Ageless Wisdom teaches that we are on a journey of spiritual evolution in which we are expanding our consciousness so that at some point in the future (after lifetimes of learning and growth), we will become fully self-conscious human beings. We will have learned all that there is to learn in this phenomenal world about being human and therefore will have become perfected.

One aspect of Theosophy that has provided support through the years involves the belief that experiences are not attributable personally. That is, God (or whatever one calls that Ultimate Reality) is not angry at or punishing an individual. It is common for individuals who experience tragedy and loss to blame themselves. Even very young children (ages three to five) believe that they have done something to cause their pain or believe that they could have done something to stop or alter the situation. Adults also take on responsibility and self-blame for incidents that have nothing to do with them. One such example is a mother whose adult child was accidentally drowned. This mother was very angry with God for allowing the death to occur and was firmly convinced that if she had given more money to the church, her child would have lived. The recognition that incidents like this are not personal can provide a very important element in healing tragedy and loss.

Along these same lines, my belief in reincarnation—another major concept in the Ageless Wisdom—has provided support for me. The belief that we have multiple lives does not negate the importance of each one of those lives, but it does put each life into perspective.

It may be useful to invoke the age-old analogy of school: perceiving each lifetime as a grade in school (although there are certainly more grades than in contemporary schools). The ending of each grade is bittersweet for many: pride in accomplishments and lessons learned, excitement about moving onward, sadness about not seeing friends for the summer.

We can put unfortunate events in perspective by perceiving each lifetime and its tragedies and losses in the same light. Of course it does not obliterate the pain, which may remain for many years, if not for the entire lifetime, but we realize that the tragedy and loss is, from the perspective of many lifetimes, temporary.

The concept of karma also gives us answers to the why of tragedy and loss. Karma, from the Theosophical perspective, is a universal law based upon harmony. Everything that we think, say, and do impacts the harmony of the universe, and this law works to restore that harmony when it is imbalanced. H.P. Blavatsky writes: “Karma creates nothing, nor does it design. It is [the human] who plans and creates causes, and Karmic law adjusts the effects; which adjustment is not an act, but universal harmony, tending ever to resume its original position, like a bough, which, bent down too forcibly, rebounds with corresponding vigour.”

If we believe that we are here on this earth to learn and to grow—to transform ourselves spiritually—then it makes sense that our life circumstances facilitate this growth. It’s important to add a caution here: although karma facilitates the process of learning through action and reaction or cause and effect, we really do not have much of an understanding of this Universal Law. In The Mahatma Letters to A.P. Sinnett, the Mahatma K.H. tells Sinnett, “You know nothing of the ins and outs of the work of karma—of the ‘sideblows’ of this terrible Law,” and later added,  “Have another look at Karma . . . and remember that it ever works in the most unexpected ways.” Although we speak about karma as if we understand it, we have only a vague grasp of its workings.

One might be inclined to consider unfortunate events as punishment or payback for misdeeds in a previous incarnation. This is akin to the earlier discussion regarding self-blame. It seems more realistic instead to view such incidents as opportunities for growth and expansion in light of the concept of harmony and balance, however little we may appreciate the opportunity at the time. Most individuals can look back and see that times of difficulty resulted in the greatest personal or spiritual growth. This realization reaffirms the Dalai Lama’s view that tragedy in life can challenge us to find our inner strength. Whether we encounter our own personal misfortunes or we work to help someone navigate their way through difficult circumstances, the Ageless Wisdom teaches that karma gives us the opportunity to grow.

Perhaps the Theosophical concept that has been most helpful to me in this area is the belief that each of us walks our own path toward becoming fully self-conscious human beings, and that each and every one of us will attain this goal at some point. We have no knowledge of where another person is on their particular journey, or of the specific challenges on which another person may be working, but we can trust that the end result will be the same for everyone. As the late TS international president N. Sri Ram wrote, “This concept . . . is perhaps the most inspiring truth of Theosophy.”

For example, a five-year-old child was sexually abused and through that abuse contracted a sexually transmitted disease. The child was terrified to talk about her experiences as well as about the person who abused her. Law enforcement investigated but was unable to identify a perpetrator. Counseling continued, of course, but the child maintained her silence.

When we look at this tragic situation from a Theosophical perspective, we begin with tremendous compassion for this child and those who love her. We also recognize that we don’t know anything about this child’s journey and what she has chosen to learn in this particular incarnation. We know that this is one step of the journey for this soul, and it will eventually result in spiritual growth and ultimately in full self-consciousness.

This understanding does not, however, mean that we accept abuse, nor does it mitigate the suffering endured by this child and her family. We must use our discernment, as discussed in At the Feet of the Master, to balance metaphysical understanding with an awareness of the pain. The balancing of understanding and awareness challenges us to engage in compassionate action. In 1907 Annie Besant wrote, “Your duty is to do all you can to help others. Do not take Karma as an excuse for indolence, as I am sorry to say many people do.”

In conclusion, dealing with tragedy and loss in a healthy manner involves two crucial components: working through the human response and finding a worldview that helps us understand the whys of the situation. In order to work through the human response, we must feel our feelings; observe and change our negative self-messages; accept and forgive ourselves for our imperfections; and find or create a support system. The second component incorporates the need for understanding why tragedies and losses occur. The Ageless Wisdom fulfills the second component through its teachings about the impersonal nature of situations; reincarnation and karma; and the soul’s evolutionary journey to becoming a fully self-conscious human.

Along with these elements, we balance healing and understanding with compassion. Healing and understanding underlaid with compassion allow us to deal with misfortune in a healthy way. As Jack Kornfield writes in Buddha’s Little Instruction Book, “Our sorrows and wounds are healed only when we touch them with compassion.”

Sources

Alcyone. At the Feet of the Master. Adyar: Theosophical Publishing House, 1910.

Barker, A.T., and Vicente Hao Chin Jr., eds. The Mahatma Letters to A.P. Sinnett in Chronological Sequence. Quezon City, Philippines: Theosophical Publishing House, 1998.

Besant, Annie. Theosophical Lectures. Chicago: Rajput Press, 1907.

Blavatsky, H.P. “Reincarnation and Karma.” Blavatsky Study Center (website): http://www.blavatskyarchives.com/blavatskykarmareincarnation.htm; accessed Feb. 15, 2019.

Kornfield, Jack. Buddha’s Little Instruction Book. New York: Bantam, 1994.

Sri Ram, N. Human Regeneration. Wheaton: Theosophical Publishing House, 1985.

Printed in the Summer 2019 issue of Quest magazine.
Citation: Leland, Kurt ,"The Grace Machine: Healing the Shock of Spiritual Darkness" Quest 107:3, pg 18-20

By Kurt Leland 

At the beginning of her essay “Spiritual Darkness,” Annie Besant gives perhaps the most graphic depiction of clinical depression in Theosophical literature. She begins by stating: “Few of the perils which beset the path of the serious aspirant are more depressing in their nature, more fatal in their effects, than what is called spiritual darkness.” What follows leaves no doubt that Besant had experienced such a state. She speaks of:

the gloom which descends on the heart and brain, wrapping the whole nature in its somber folds, blotting out all memories of past peace, all hopes of future progress. As a dense fog pervades a great city, stealing into every nook and corner, effacing every familiar landmark, shutting off every vista, blurring into dimness even the brilliant lights, until, to the bewildered wayfarer, nothing seems left save himself and the stifling mephitic vapor that enfolds him, so is it when the fog of spiritual darkness comes down on the aspirant or the disciple. All his landmarks disappear, and the way vanishes in the gloom; his wonted lights are shorn of their luster, and human beings are mere shadows that now and again push up against him out of the night and into the night again disappear . . .The “horror of great darkness” is upon him [cf. Genesis 15:12], paralyzing every energy, crushing every hope. God and man have deserted him—he is alone, alone. (Besant, Essays, 118–19)

Though Besant directs these comments toward spiritual aspirants, the situation she describes is universal. Anyone who has experienced physical, emotional, mental, or spiritual trauma may recognize themselves here, from teenagers suffering over the first breakup of a love relationship to adults helplessly watching as their community is destroyed by wildfire. Tragedies such as rape, violence, and sexual abuse and natural catastrophes such as hurricanes, earthquakes, and tsunamis may leave in their wake from one to tens of thousands of people in this spiritual darkness.

Several years ago, a dear friend arrived on my doorstep in this state: white with fear, in a cold sweat, paralyzed by anxiety. I did what I could to calm him down, but a few days later I learned he had threatened suicide and been hospitalized. Some preparations had been made to get him into a residential treatment program that seemed like a good fit, though it was far from home. I sat by his side during the long trip there and helped him settle in. After his program was over, I returned to pick him up. He stayed with me for some days until I found him a long-term home. I put him in touch with professionals who helped him assemble a treatment team. There were ups and downs, period of progress and setback, but I’m happy to say that with the help of his team and the loving support of his family, he made a complete recovery.

The great gift of this period was what I learned from weekly in-person chats with my friend as I watched his healing process. Here is what I extrapolated from those meetings, pondered on in the light of Theosophy.

Perhaps the most helpful guiding principle of our chats was one for which Besant was famous: the idea that we have a physical body and several subtle bodies, including the emotional (sometimes called astral), mental, and causal (so called because it holds the causes from past lives that affect our present lifetime). In this article, I’ll use the term soul body instead of causal body, since the latter is often identified with the human soul. There are other bodies beyond these, but they do not concern us here.

Earlier I mentioned trauma in connection with this spiritual darkness. Trauma could be defined as an injury to the physical, emotional, mental, or causal body, or any combination thereof. The injury takes the form of more information coming into the body than it can assimilate in the moment, resulting in a loss of equilibrium and a shutdown of processing such information. The loss of equilibrium may be experienced along a continuum from simple overwhelm to uttermost terror—various shades of fearing that the integrity of the body is compromised or its existence threatened. The body is effectively paralyzed, producing a state of shock. This shock is what Besant described as spiritual darkness. It lasts as long as required for the affected body to recover its processing ability and restore its equilibrium, to feel reassured of its integrity and reestablished in a sense of safety. Though an outside observer might describe this shock as physical, emotional, or psychological, according to the body affected, the experiencer may not be able to make such distinctions. The feeling of being utterly without hope and help, cut off from “God and man,” results in spiritual darkness, no matter which body is involved.

Each body has its own vulnerability to the shock and trauma of too much information. For example, the physical body is overwhelmed when the immune system can’t keep up with the replication of bacteria, viruses, or malignant cells; or by pain or blood loss in cases of injury, accident, or abuse. Though healing may eventually occur, the nervous system seems to remember and store such traumas for years—and may not recover full functionality without some form of trauma-release work. (There are a number of healing modalities that proceed along such lines, such as the technique of somatic experiencing pioneered by Peter Levine.)

Emotional trauma can take the form of abuse by a victimizer who arbitrarily grants and withholds love or instills fear as a means of control. It can also result from the loss of any loved one, especially when that loss is sudden and tragic.

Mental trauma can develop from abuse, in particular constant judgment or criticism. It can also occur when the magnitude of a tragedy simply cannot be comprehended—and this may be true not only for eyewitnesses but also for people exposed to gruesome reportage in news media.

Trauma to the causal body can occur through loss of an idol or role model, a mentor or spiritual teacher. The causal body may also be traumatized by brainwashing and cult indoctrination.

In every case, one or more of the bodies is affected by information that overwhelms and paralyzes it. Often awareness is withdrawn from the affected body. Physical sensations are deadened, ignored, or not even registered. The same occurs with feelings and emotions in the emotional body and constructive thoughts in the mental body. The self hunkers down in the mental body, cut off not only from sensations, emotions, and thoughts, but also from understanding, guidance, and illumination from the higher Self. Anxiety runs riot because of fear of further trauma and an urgent desire for release from pain.

To help someone experiencing the shock of spiritual darkness, one thing we can do is support a gradual process of reoccupying the bodies. First, to the extent we’re able, we create safety by providing body-to-body connection (healing touch, hugs), heart-to-heart connection (sympathetic listening, caring concern), mind-to-mind connection (reinforcing shared beliefs and values that mitigate fear and support a positive outlook on life).

Soul-to-soul connection may be more challenging to establish. Often people who have experienced trauma or tragedy feel betrayed by the soul, God, the universe—even to the point of losing faith that such things exist. In such cases, the best medicine is simple witnessing, deep compassionate listening, letting those who suffer know they’re loved no matter what they’re thinking or feeling. The statement “Know that you are loved” can work wonders because it invites people to notice where, when, and by whom they’re loved as they’re ready to become aware of that love again and perhaps feel grateful for it. On the other hand, saying “I love you” to someone experiencing spiritual darkness could be traumatizing because they might not feel worthy of that love.

If I listen deeply enough to people who are suffering, I often become aware of what I call their inner healer. This is the voice of their soul expressing what it needs. In those who suffer, this inner voice is often drowned out by other voices vying for attention—critical, angry, despairing, or anxious. I try to capture, repeat, highlight, and reinforce moments when the inner healer speaks, expressing a need or insight that could alleviate suffering and carry forward the healing process. But to hear the voice of another’s inner healer, I have to be compassionate, patient, unattached to outcomes.

Over several years of weekly chats with my friend, certain questions emerged in my mind. I would periodically introduce them into our conversation as things to consider. In the early stages, they didn’t register or were dismissed. But over time they became conversation topics, and later they were internalized and brought up by him without prompting—often with answers he had been thinking about.

There were six such questions. I’ve experimented with them in other contexts, including workshops, as focal points for meditation. In one workshop, I briefly explained these questions, then asked the first and struck a Tibetan singing bowl. People could hold each question in mind, perhaps repeating it inwardly while noticing their reactions, which might include doubtfulness or acceptance. When the sound became inaudible, I went on to the next.

I believe these questions can soften the mental body so support, guidance, and illumination from the soul body become more available. These questions could be used for establishing and sustaining soul-to-soul connection with someone who’s experiencing spiritual darkness—as long as we don’t press for answers.

1. Am I willing to accept the conditions of my growth as the beginning point for change? This brings us out of denial of the past and anxiety over the future into the present moment by overcoming the mind’s tendency to reject what it dislikes, including trauma and its effects. We can’t heal from trauma unless we’re willing to learn what it has to teach us. Acceptance that trauma has occurred is the first step to growth.
2. Am I willing to be responsible for the consequences of my actions and learn from my past? The mental body tends to blame us or others for undesirable consequences we’ve experienced, but the soul body knows why anything has happened to us. A willingness to be responsible for our actions, no matter how much pain they may have caused, can open the way for soul-level understanding to come through. We may then discover what we’ve learned from such actions and why their consequences were necessary.
3. Can I turn my fears into intentions to grow? Paralysis in the mental body caused by anxiety can often be alleviated by identifying the unknowns that cause fear and expressing a willingness to explore them until they become known. Thus paralysis about applying for a job could be overcome by expressing an intention to learn how to create an effective résumé or to request, fill out, and submit an attractive application.
4. When confused, can I open an inquiry into the forces in play? At the soul-body level, everything we experience is a result of the interaction of various forces. Not knowing what they are overwhelms and confuses us. By opening an inquiry into these forces—the causes or influences affecting us in the moment—we can make the mind more receptive to illumination from the soul body. Such forces may include our own thoughts, feelings, and actions, as well as those of others, such as family or coworkers. They can also involve physical conditions such as the weather and the aura or ambience of our emotional, mental, and spiritual environments, where we live, work, play, or seek intellectual or spiritual nourishment. (See C.W. Leadbeater’s Hidden Side of Things for information about the influence of subtle environmental forces.) Breaking trauma down into such forces can help process information that may have overwhelmed or paralyzed any of our bodies.
5. Am I willing to be an agent of turning stuckness into flow? People who have experienced trauma often feel urgency to free themselves from paralysis and pain. They may search for quick fixes and look to us for such solutions. But trauma may be more of a process than a problem—not something to fix but something to help along. A more reasonable approach is seeing it as a temporary experience of stuckness and suggesting a single step that might move that stuckness into flow. Taking action on that step breaks down paralysis and may help the individual understand and integrate the trauma. The feeling of flow indicates that we’re more in touch with the forces in play and more available to guidance by the soul body.
6. Can I be grateful for the support and guidance of higher powers? Whether such powers include the soul, a guiding angel, God, or the universe, our gratitude for its support and guidance helps us perceive and accept them.

These observations above are intended to be suggestive rather than definitive. However, I should explain the background of the sixth question more thoroughly. For me, the universe is a great Grace Machine. At the center is our divine Source, shining like a spiritual sun, radiating joy. We’re all on a journey back to oneness with it. As we experience trauma in any of our bodies, we turn away from that Source—how could it have permitted us to experience that trauma and the suffering it caused? The more we turn away, the more tightly we become wound up in our bodies to protect us from further trauma. We close out the light and joy of the Source, and the result is various grades of spiritual darkness.

Yet in every moment the Source attempts to turn us back toward it. Working through the law of karma, it sends us experiences that unwind our trauma, wear down our faults, and strengthen our virtues. Eventually, we all achieve the goal of returning to oneness with it—and that is grace. There’s plenty of room for error and there are plenty of lifetimes to correct our mistakes.

At every moment we’re surrounded by beings, people, objects, and situations that point the way back to the Source, if we’re willing to see them and act appropriately. Gratitude for this support and guidance makes it easier to do so. By acting appropriately, I mean turning stuckness into flow.

The sign that we’ve acted appropriately is an increase in joy, because we’ve turned back toward or advanced a bit closer to the Source. Besant has something to say about this joy. It seems fitting to close with her words, since they represent the glorious opposite of the spiritual darkness we began with:

They err who believe that sorrow is the end of things; they err who believe that pain and sadness are really the atmosphere in which the Spirit lives. The Spirit is bliss, it is not sorrow; the Spirit is joy, it is not struggle. The essence and heart of all things is love, is joy, is peace; and the path of pain is the path and not the goal. . . . For out of that ocean of Blessedness whence the universe has sprung, spring love and joy and peace unceasing. (Besant, Pain, 27–28)

And that is the Grace Machine, always working to bring us closer to such love, joy, and peace—from whatever trauma or tragedy we may have experienced in this or any other life. Thus for me, tragedy seen in the light of Theosophy is a constant prayer to serve the great Grace Machine by being an agent of turning stuckness into flow.

Sources

Besant, Annie. Essays and Addresses, Vol. 2: The Spiritual Life. London: Theosophical Publishing Society, 1912.

———. Man and His Bodies. Adyar: Theosophical Publishing House, 2008.

———.Pain: Its Meaning and Use. Adyar: Theosophical Publishing House, 2003.

Leadbeater, C.W. The Hidden Side of Things. Adyar: Theosophical Publishing House, 1912.

Composer and author Kurt Leland lectures regularly for the TSA. His books include a compilation of Annie Besant’s articles: Invisible Worlds: Essays on Psychic and Spiritual Development (Quest Books, 2013) and Rainbow Body: A History of the Western Chakra System from Blavatsky to Brennan (Ibis, 2016). His consulting practice, Spiritual Orienteering, is based in Boston. He can be reached at www.kurtleland.com. Videos of his lectures can be found on the TS YouTube channel.