Quest Magazine

The Spirituality of Oz: The Meaning of the Movie

Originally printed in the November-December 2000  issue of Quest magazine.
Citation: Johnson, Andrew. "The Spirituality of Oz: The Meaning of the Movie." Quest  88.6 NOVEMBER-DECEMBER 2000): pg 212-217.

By Andrew Johnson

Theosophical Society - Andrew Johnson a former second-grade teacher, is codirector of the Center for Talent Development at Minnesota State UniversityWhat is the meaning of "true home"? . . . We talked about a wave. Does a wave have a home? When a wave looks deeply into herself, she will realize the presence of all the other waves. When we are mindful, fully living each moment of our daily lives, we may realize that everyone and everything around us is our home. . . . A wave looking deeply into herself will see that she is made up of all other waves and will no longer feel she is cut off from everything around her. [Thich Nhat Hanh 1999, 40-1]

Oh, but anyway, Toto, we're home—home! And this is my room—and you're all here—and I'm not going to leave here ever, ever again, because I love you all. And . . . oh, Auntie Em, there's no place like home! [Dorothy Gale in the 1939 movie The Wizard of Oz]

Spirituality, Truth, and Reality

Spirituality can be viewed two ways. First, in a secular sense, it can be seen as an accumulation of one's higher values, virtues, and ideals. It is the higher part of self, superego or superconsciousness. Second, spirituality can also be seen in a sacred sense as the part of one's self that is connected to the universe, one's divine essence, or the perfume within the clay jar.

Truth

The first thing to be said about The Wizard of Oz is that it is true, absolutely and completely, or as Munchkins would say, "Morally, ethically, spiritually, physically, positively, absolutely . . . true."

There is a difference, however, between truth and facts. Although facts may be true, they do not always lead to Truth. Indeed, there are many instances where a series of facts have led to the wrong truth simply because of which facts were attended to and which were ignored. Although Holy Books may not always contain facts, they contain symbols, metaphors, myths, and dreams, which are signs pointing to Truth. One of the shortcomings of humankind in this past millennium is that we have attended to the sign, but not to what it is pointing to. We declare the stop sign to be holy and good while proceeding right through the intersection without stopping. And then we wonder how a good and loving universe can allow car accidents to happen.

Reality

The Wizard of Oz is very real. If you look deep enough, you see that there is no difference between reality and fantasy, between this and that, here and there, the idea and the thing. All are variants of the same reality. All are waves; temporary forms of the same water.

Thich Nhat Hanh (1999), the Buddhist mystic, describes two levels of reality that exist simultaneously. Phenomenal reality is the reality of things seen: that which we are used to experiencing, the waves, bits of reality coming into temporary form. Noumenal reality is the reality inaccessible to logic or the normal senses. This is the water, the essence of all things, the ground of all being, God, Allah, Jehovah, WaTonka, Brahman, Oz.

Universal or Collective Unconscious

The Wizard of Oz is true on a noumenal level. It is filled with symbols and metaphors, all pointing to other things. Carl Jung and later Joseph Campbell described how certain symbols and motifs appear in mythology, fairy tales, stories, and religions throughout the world. According to Jung, these symbols are an expression of the collective unconscious, a concept similar to the akashic records mentioned by ancient mystics. It is a psychic cyberspace, a place where every thought, feeling, and action of humanity is recorded. Whether or not we are aware of it, we are all connected, we are all online.

It was from the collective unconscious, a bubbling cauldron of archetypal images, that The Wizard of Oz was birthed into existence in 1900 as a book and later reincarnated as a movie in 1939. The movie, released the same year as Gone with the Wind, was the product of five different directors and a myriad of studio writers, continually assigned and reassigned. Thus the film did not come from any one person, but was truly a collective.

Movies are like dream states in which archetypal images appear, Hollywood itself being the land of dreams. A movie is like a group dream, a conscious decision to suspend reality, alter our consciousness, and let the images play out in front of us (Nathanson 1991).

Bits of the collective consciousness of its time crept into the movie. The Wicked Witch of the West is a dark, controlling presence who seeks to dominate and control very much like Hitler. The Guards at the Witch's castle (the Winkies) are dressed in Russian-like costumes. Their "Yo-ee-oh" chant, which uses the interval of the fifth and distinctively low pitches, is reminiscent of the ancient liturgical music favored by the Russian Orthodox church (Nathanson 1991). The flying monkeys have helmets that look very much like those of Japanese imperial warriors.

Of Archetypes and Journeys

Dorothy's journey away from Kansas and back again represents a spiritual quest, an expedition to inner dimensions to face all aspects of the Self (Stewart, 1997). It is a move towards self-actualization, atonement or at-one-ment, whole-ness or holiness. It is a remembering or becoming again one member with what we once were.

Dorothy is a prototypical hero very much like Jesus, the Buddha, Harry Potter, Luke Skywalker, or Arthur. Both Dorothy and Jesus (a) had questions regarding their parentage, (b) started out life as very common ordinary persons, (c) had to flee in the early part of their lives, (d) traveled a path with a clear beginning and unavoidable end, (e) battled evil in different forms, (f) found companions along the way to help with the journey, (g) had companions who were scattered in times of turbulence, (h) went through wilderness, forest, or desert, (i) found or possessed an inner power to help transcend their experiences, (j) eventually went home or returned to another dimension leaving sad companions behind, and (k) were not afraid to take a stand on moral issues or principles.

The First Lesson

As the story begins, we see Dorothy, a girl of twelve, running down a road. Her age is pertinent, as it is the end of childhood and the beginning of the transition to adulthood. In it two realms or ways of seeing meet: the dependent, intuitive childlike and the independent, logical adult.

Miss Gulch arrives at the farm. It appears that Toto, Dorothy's dog, has bitten her on the leg. She wants to take him to the sheriff to be destroyed. According to the law, Miss Gulch was right. One person's animal does not have the right to invade the space of another, much less bite that person on the leg. In accordance with the law, Miss Gulch had every right to seek restitution and demand that Toto be destroyed. But are right and wrong defined by the law?

Psychologist Lawrence Kohlberg (1984) has described six levels of moral reasoning: punishment, reward, social approval, law, social contract, and universal principle. Miss Gulch was operating at the level of right and wrong as determined by law. This is the level of the fundamentalist, the literalist, the insurance document. However, what is legal is sometimes not ethical or moral. Those who let laws, holy books, religious edicts, or religious figures determine right and wrong without questioning are abdicating their responsibility as human beings. For example, at one time, segregation and overt racial discrimination were legal. Thus it takes principled beings to challenge and shape the law.

Not being bad is not the same as being good. At first, Uncle Henry took a moral position:

Dorothy: "Destroyed? Toto? Oh, you can't . . . you mustn't . . . Auntie Em - Uncle Henry - you won't let her . . . will you?"

Uncle Henry: "Uh . . . ah . . . course we won't . . . eh . . . will we Em."

However, when Miss Gulch threatens to bring a damage suit that will take away the farm, Uncle Henry suddenly has a moral revelation: "We can't go agin' the law, Dorothy." For Uncle Henry, right and wrong are determined by the possibility of punishment. So Uncle Henry, like a Skinnerian rat in a maze, seeks to avoid punishment in giving Toto to Miss Gulch.

Dorothy is the only person in this movie to take a stand based on moral principle regardless of the consequences. When Lion jumps out of the bushes and begins growling at Toto, in the face of what might have been great risk to herself, she slaps Lion on the nose and admonishes him for picking on poor little dogs. Here, Dorothy acts courageously from a moral stance: It is wrong for more powerful things to pick on weaker things. Again, at the final scene in the throne room of Oz, the group is met with flame, smoke, and a thundering voice in an attempt to scare them. Lion faints. Dorothy stands up to the great and powerful Oz and says: "Oh . . . oh! You ought to be ashamed of yourself! Frightening him like that, when he came to you for help!" Again the moral decree: More powerful things should not frighten weaker things that are in need of help.

Cyclones

Cyclones represent those unpleasant events in our lives that move us to higher places. This reflects Dabrowski's (1964) theory of positive disintegration, which states that advanced development requires a breakdown of existing psychological structures in order to form higher, more evolved structures. Inner conflict, neurosis, guilt, depression, anxiety, adverse conditions, or unpleasant life events can, through assimilation, lead us to higher levels of moral or ethical behavior. Growth requires that old psychological or spiritual structures give way to new ones. New wine cannot be put in old wineskin. The disintegration process can result in inner tension as a sign of growth in a healthy individual.

Had Dorothy not been transported to Oz, she would never have attained the insight, growth, understanding, and realization of her power that she did. Miss Gulch would still be a presence in her life. Thus the cyclone, while unpleasant, is neither good nor bad; it is merely a byproduct of life outside the Edenic realm. Cyclones may be the loss of a job, life transitions, death of a loved one, or the dissolution of a relationship. They are the internal tension that brings us to a higher place.

Toto the Dog

Toto represents the inner, intuitive, instinctual, most animal-like part of us. Throughout the movie, Dorothy has conversations with Toto, or her inner intuitive self. The lesson here is to listen to the Toto within. In this movie, Toto was never wrong. When he barks at the scarecrow, Dorothy tries to ignore him: "Don't be silly, Toto. Scarecrows don't talk." But scarecrows do talk in Oz. Toto also barks at the little man behind the curtain. It is he who realizes the Wizard is a fraud. At the Gale Farm and again at the castle, the Witch tries to put Toto into a basket. What is shadow will try to block or contain the intuitive. In both cases, Toto jumps out of the basket and escapes. Our intuitive voice can be ignored, but not contained.

In the last scene, Toto chases after a cat, causing Dorothy to chase after him and hence miss her balloon ride. This is what leads to Dorothy's ultimate transformation, to the discovery of her inner powers. The balloon ride is representative of traditional religion, with a skinny-legged wizard promising a trip to the Divine. Toto was right to force Dorothy out of the balloon. Otherwise she might never have found her magic. This is a call for us to listen to our intuitions, our gut feelings, those momentary bits of imagination that appear seemingly out of nowhere.

The Window

The window is an opening between one dimension and the next, the air hole through which eternity breathes through to the temporal world. We too have a window, the place where the collective unconscious and the personal unconscious meet. It takes a journey to find this place.

In a startling bit of movie magic, Dorothy is actually hit on the head with a window as she begins the journey from Kansas to Oz. She pulls herself up from the bed and peers fearfully out of the window at the wreckage floating past: a chicken roost, a fence, a house, a buggy, a tree, a henhouse, a crowing rooster. This window represents the inner world, a dream state, personal unconscious, prophecy, and archetypal images.

Munchkins and Glinda

Munchkins, by their childlike appearance and mannerisms, represent the spiritual ideal, which is the child state. Children forgive easily, are quick to love, and are content to live in the moment. The Munchkins also live in communion with Glinda, the Good Witch of the North. Glinda is a figure not represented in the other dimension—Kansas—thus she can be said to be truly other-dimensional. She is a being of light, a spirit or celestial power who appears both in physical form in Munchkinland and in nonphysical form in the poppy field. Poppies represent spiritual sleep. Glinda was a force to help wake Dorothy from that sleep.

Shadow Witch

The Wicked Witch represents our Shadow side, the dark or unconscious part of the personality that the conscious ego tries to ignore. The Shadow is Mr. Hyde to our Dr. Jekyll.

At the castle, Dorothy throws water on the witch. The water represents consciousness. When Jesus walked on water, he was above consciousness. Self-actualization or at-one-ment is not a matter of destroying the shadow. All humans have shadows. Individuation is a matter of facing the shadow and coming to grips with it. Thus Dorothy confronts the Witch, who melts. Dorothy assimilates the power of the Witch in the form of the guards, the flying monkeys, and the broomstick.

The Path and the Wizard

The Yellow Brick Road represents our Spiritual Path. The whole problem in the movie is that Dorothy followed it looking for the Wizard of Oz, instead of for Oz. Oz is the transcendent power, Love and Light. The Wizard represents those humans who sip the nectar of their own illusion and become drunk with greed, power, and control. These are the religious charlatans who claim to speak for God, while they are building theme parks. They are all little men and women standing behind curtains.

The Point of the Movie

Dorothy asks Glinda, the Good Witch, "Oh, will you help me? Can you help me?"

"You don't need to be helped any longer," A smiling Glinda answers. "You've always had the power to go back to Kansas."

"I have?"

"Then why didn't you tell her before?" Scarecrow demands.

"Because she wouldn't have believed me. She had to learn it for herself."

The Tin Man leans forward and asks, "What have you learned, Dorothy?"

"Well, I . . . I think that is . . . that it wasn't enough just to want to see Uncle Henry and Auntie Em . . . and that if I ever go looking for my heart's desire again, I won't look any further than my own backyard; because if it isn't here, I never really lost it to begin with."

This is what Dorothy learned:

1. We have the power. We have Ruby Red slippers to transport us to Kansas, to bring about the Edenic state, or to create our heart's desire.

2. Witches and cyclones, while bad, can be a means for spiritual growth.

3. We must learn for ourselves. Truth is not given so much as it is realized. Look within. You do not have to go off in search of a mystic or seek truth from a variety of exotic religions. Truth is found in your own back yard.

4. Reality is very simple. We create our own reality. We tend to make it more complicated than it need be. The simple universal fact is that, if we believe it to be so, it is.

5. There's no place like home. The kingdom of heaven is not a place; but a condition.

References

Dabrowski, Kazimierz. 1964. Positive Disintegration. Boston: Little, Brown.

Kohlberg, Lawrence. 1984. The Psychology of Moral Development. New York: Harper and Row.

Nathanson, Paul. 1991. Over the Rainbow: The Wizard of Oz as a Secular Myth of America. Albany: State University of New York Press.

Nhat Hanh, Thich. 1999. Going Home: Jesus and Buddha as Brothers. New York: Riverhead Books.

Stewart, Jesse. 1997. Secrets of the Yellow Brick Road: A Map for the Modern Spiritual Journey. Hygiene, CO: Sunshine Press.

Andrew Johnson, a former second-grade teacher, is codirector of the Center for Talent Development at Minnesota State University. He can be reached at thinkingskills@aol.com.

True Theosophical Service

By Dorothy Bell

Originally printed in the NOVEMBER-DECEMBER 2008 issue of Quest magazine.
Citation: Bell,  Dorothy. "True Theosophical Service." Quest  96.6 (NOVEMBER-DECEMBER 2008):227-229.

Theosophical Society - Dorothy Bell is well known as an international educator in Theosophy. She considers that it is the way we each see life that influences our understanding of our world.

BY DEFINITION, THEOSOPHICAL SERVICE IS ACTION THEOSOPHY—the application of fundamental Theosophical principles to inner and outer action. Both HPB and Annie Besant identified it as altruism. Thus Theosophy's central principle is altruism.
 
As a principle, altruism expresses the true root meaning of the words theos and Brahma—the motion of expansion from within outwardly, which is also associated with the outbreathing of the Great Breath. It means giving unconditionally to the whole from within outwardly. It realizes the wholeness and unity of all. And every movement of that realization of wholeness is open and generous and all-embracing. It is compassion, love, gentleness, kindness, and the full expression of who we truly are.
 
In a letter to the American convention in 1888, HPB wrote: "The essence of Theosophy is the perfect harmonizing of the divine with the human in man, the adjustment of his godlike qualities and aspirations and their sway over the terrestrial or animal passions in him. Kindness, absence of every ill-feeling or selfishness, charity, goodwill to all beings, and perfect justice to others as to one's self, are its chief features." Theosophical service, then, is made up of inner and outer action. It is on the inner action only that I wish to focus here, as well as on the inner harmonizing and adjustment that is needed to remove impediments that prevent the fullest expression of our true godlike nature in altruism. Such impediments include selfishness and ill-feeling to self and others.
 
To start with, we need to ask ourselves where these impediments come from that make life so difficult. One source is our social programming. Much of this programming since childhood and the building of an "artificial personality," as HPB called it, takes us away from being who we truly are. When we identify with this personality, we identify with our vehicles—our body, emotions, and thoughts—and not with our true Self. When we see through the eyes of this ego rather than through the eyes of the divine within, we live in a state of separation, fragmentation, and fear. As children, we are often compared to others—for example, through our grades in the educational system. We accumulate beliefs about our worthiness—of not being good enough or smart enough—or we feel superior to others because of our gender, race, job, education, success. We judge both others and ourselves as we try to live up to certain expectations and be successful. And we wear masks, because the most difficult thing to be is who we are within.
 
 
In doing any of these things, we have forgotten that we share with others the awesome brilliance, magnificence, and power of our divine essence and source. We have also forgotten that the prize for living in this world is not success on its terms but success in being who we truly are.
 
While each physical incarnation provides opportunity for spiritual growth, self-realization, and compassionate action in the world, our challenge in daily living is to be mindful of our programming. Even the slightest negative reaction that disempowers us as spiritual beings, and reinforces our separateness from others. Negative thought energy, as we experience it, lowers our own vibration, makes us at odds with ourselves, and also affects our environment.
 
Speaking in Chicago in 1893, Annie Besant said, "Even as you think, the thought burning in your brain becomes a living force for good or for evil in the mental atmosphere. As a man thinks, thoughts from him go out to mould the thoughts and lives of other men. Your thought power makes you creative gods in the world."
 
How true this is! Think of the power of a mind that can produce low moods, with thoughts of fear, dislike, anxiety, anger, guilt, self-loathing, loneliness, and envy. Think of the power that can also restore us to the higher vibrations of joy, love, and compassion, which reside in the heart.
 
We are inspired by our founders and other great teachers to understand desire and to work on methods of self-healing as a key to healing the world. Emotional intelligence, as it has recently been styled, is not new, but it is essential if we are to transmute selfishness and ill-feeling towards self and others into harmony and oneness and if we are to fully embody compassion—the only power that will change the world.
 
While spiritual literature abounds with suggestions of how to go about this process of transformation, I would like to look at two real-life examples from members of a small healing group who share with each other the challenges of transformation and service to the world. They work on the premise that every action comes either from love or from nonlove, and they work in their own unique ways to break through the bondage of their "nonloving" reactions. Although the incidents appear trivial, they represent insights into "moments of liberation." (The idea that liberation can be won in moments and that each moment has the essential quality of full liberation is emphasized by Jiddu Krishnamurti in his conversation with E. A. Wodehouse in The Mind of J. Krishnamurti by Luis S. R. Vas.)
 
The first story is about Katie, who is a Reiki healing practitioner. Katie was waiting in a queue at K-Mart. Two young employees at the checkout were distracted and ignoring the queue, and as it grew longer, customers became angry. Katie, too, became impatient, even glaring at the so-called offenders and then becoming angry with herself for being so angry. So she tried, unsuccessfully, to change her mood. Then she remembered a group discussion on using Light energy or healing energy to deal with negative reactions. So Katie focused her attention on the words, "I open my mind to the Light" and repeated them very slowly to herself, "I open my mind to the Light." After a little while, she began to sense something at the top of her head and recognized the gentle "healing energy" that gradually filled her, slowly bringing a feeling of release and upliftment. The anger that had been directed at two others and at herself, turned into a "spacy" feeling of warm benevolence to all. Overriding her emotions, Katie took positive action and shifted her consciousness from a negative state to a feeling of benevolence that embraced all—a liberating and healing moment.
 
The second story is about another member of the group, who was more interested in the intellectual side of things. Maria felt a great affinity with the Theosophical worldview, but seeing the One Life living in all and the all living in the One Life seemed a vague and abstract proposition to her. Nonetheless, the idea was so compelling that she decided to try to work it in her daily life. She would look at a tree or a person, a dog or cat, and she would say to herself, "That is the One Life or God expressed in a tree. That is God, the One Life, expressed in a dog. That is the One Life expressed in a person." Her approach evokes Sri Ram's words in Consciousness: Its Nature and Action: "Life is nothing but consciousness completely conditioned by the organism it uses." She even called her cat "God-cat" to remind her of the inner Reality that the outer physical form obscured. She spent many months retraining her mind in this way. Despite these efforts, Maria was still unable to really feel the truth of what she was thinking.
 
Finally, one day as she was walking along a busy city street, a strange thing happened. Out of a shadowy side alley there suddenly appeared a homeless man who stepped right into her path, still adjusting his clothes after obviously attending to his personal needs. He was bearded, long-haired, wild-eyed, smelly, and very dirty. Her initial reaction was repulsion—disgust and fear, perhaps a little anger. But as she began to turn away, a strong thought stopped her in her tracks: "This is God expressing itself in a dirty, homeless man."
 
Maria was stunned, but as she saw the man in this new light, including the sacredness of his journey on this planet, the disgust and fear disappeared. She felt nothing specific towards him as a person, only a general sense of good will and freedom. Later, when Maria shared her story, someone remarked, "But you didn't give him anything!" After thinking for a while, she said, "I did. Eventually I gave him respect."
 
Both women became centers of positive energy after being generators of negative energy, and both experienced an energy of liberation and benevolence in return. In Maria's case, the ground had been well prepared by training her mind to "see" in a totally unexpected way, to see through all the outer casings to the truth of the inner Reality of all forms, whether they were trees, crystals, cats, dogs, or humans.
 
Compared with Katie's conscious action to override her emotions, Maria's shift in consciousness was involuntary. Nevertheless, it was, perhaps, a moment of unveiled spiritual perception. An interesting difference, but it illustrates the principle that the more you contemplate something, the more you become it. Such self-devised efforts in the group continue to be shared in the spirit of sangha, and these experiences become part of each one's growing self-awareness and self-knowledge, with a stronger commitment to becoming better instruments of service.
 
We may not understand the spiritual laws that operate in such incidents, but we can acknowledge the preparation of the ground that is necessary for "little moments of magic" to happen and for harmony to be restored within. And we can acknowledge that such inner work is service to the whole by uplifting the collective vibration of humanity even a little.
 
As Theosophists, we accept the responsibility of aligning ourselves with our divine essence, from which altruism as service flows. This involves beginning to see, not with the eyes of ego, but with the eyes of spirit. It also involves intentionally retraining our minds to see through to the inner Reality. As Annie Besant suggested, "Love is a form of seeing." This way of seeing makes it possible to achieve our First Object even in a moment.
 
As action Theosophists, we seek to build our houses, not on the shifting sands of emotions, but on a solid foundation of wholeness, oneness, and the unity of all life. This foundation, built by our inner work, will strengthen the quality of outer service to the needy and suffering and to all we meet. "For only by service is fullness of life made possible," as Annie Besant said in her 1893 talk in Chicago.
 
The quality of our service is also important. In the way of the Buddha, one pot of food given with love is more valuable than one hundred pots given without love. In the giving is the receiving, and while Annie Besant defines service as "supreme duty," it is also a gift, one that only we can unwrap for ourselves.
 

Dorothy Bell completed degrees in arts and education at the University of Melbourne, and received a master's degree in Education at the University of New England in Australia. As a Fulbright scholar in Education, she first visited America in 1990, and has attended programs at Krotona and School of the Wisdom in Adyar. Since joining the Theosophical Society in 1999, Bell has lectured nationally as well as internationally at TS conventions in America, New Zealand, India, and Australia. Her special interest is making Theosophy practical—with a focus on the process of transformation and liberation from the veils of social conditioning.

The Balancing Act

By Betty Bland

Originally printed in the NOVEMBER-DECEMBER 2008 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Bland, Betty. "The Balancing Act." Quest  96.6 (NOVEMBER-DECEMBER 2008):204-205.

Theosophical Society - Betty Bland served as President of the Theosophical Society in America and made many important and lasting contributions to the growth and legacy of the TSA.

ALTHOUGH MANY FORCES, INCLUDING OUR own innate inclinations, draw us toward entering the path of spiritual growth, we can be daunted by the scary prospect before us. Who would want to walk the straight and narrow way without first having some idea of what may be entailed? It does not leave much room for error and sounds quite grueling.
 
The narrow way, or what has been called the razor-edged path, can be likened to a tightrope. Circus performers and other acrobats develop an amazing skill on the highwire. Their skill requires long hours of practice and a keen development of the ability to focus on the task at hand. In fact, they are so trained to the precision performance that if there is any slip it is most likely due to a momentary loss of focus. As soon as the ego whispers, "Look at me; see how great I am," the performance is at risk of going awry.
 
For the spiritual path as well as the tightrope performance, a clear and directed consciousness is an essential element. This kind of steady focus breathes in the rarified air of dispassionate self-forgetfulness. It is not developed in a vacuum but unfolds over time in incremental steps of increasing difficulty. To begin with, we are more like children balancing on a line or crack in the pavement. There is no risk, and it is more like a game of exploration than an actual practice. This is the stage of unconscious development. But consciousness is an amazing thing. It draws us forward as we gain control. We want to know; we want to grow. Growth begets growth.
 
Once there is a conscious desire for growth, we are confronted with a primary paradox of needing to develop an unshakable confidence in ourselves while cultivating a self-forgetful humility. It is no wonder that we puzzle over how we might proceed. Yet the tightrope walkers may give us a clue as to how to approach our newly developing discipline. They have to develop skills over a long series of small self-conscious efforts in training, and then they have to be able to apply those skills in such a way as to be able to perform with confidence. The small daily actions create ingrained patterns so they become effortless and a source of unselfconscious strength.
 
The concentrated repetition of desirable qualities results in what is called the virtuous circle. The virtues not only become habitual and strong patterns of response but they cultivate in the practitioner a growing sense of self-respect, which can result only from living in harmony with one's highest nature. And when there is a harmony between the interior Self and the lesser self of the earthly personality, the resultant sense of well-being and confidence creates understanding and motivation to strengthen the virtuous responses. Once begun, this virtuous circle brings certain growth along the spiritual path.
 
The fuel that jump-starts the practice of spiritually desirable qualities into this virtuous circle is a genuine concern for others and an unassuming practice of the virtues for their own sake—without concern for praise or blame from others. In fact, the resulting self-confidence has nothing to do with judgment by anyone in the outer world, but rather with the inner knowledge of one's inherent value as a spiritual being—the birthright of every human being. Yet our complex emotional/intellectual psyches continually try to draw our attention to ourselves and with that flicker of lost focus, we stumble.
 
In a March 28, 2008 Bill Moyers interview, Cory Booker, mayor of Newark, New Jersey, confirmed his recognition of the importance of citizens' confidence in their own self-worth as a critical factor in resurrecting the respectability of that city. Booker said, "It is a spiritual crisis of people not believing in the greatness of who we are."
 
The same principle is expressed in Man of La Mancha, a musical based on Cervantes' story about Don Quixote, a comical figure who sees valor and beauty where it is not visible to most others in the world. In perceiving the peasant girl Aldonza as "Lady Dulcinea," he prompts her sense of self-worth and thereby gradually transforms her attitude. By the end of the play, she embraces her newfound self-esteem by claiming the name of Dulcinea. One is left with the hope that she has entered into the aforementioned virtuous circle.
 
This unassuming confidence in one's inherent value and spiritual potential is a critical element for traveling the Path. In a letter of encouragement to a would-be student healer, the Master Morya writes:

So now, you my chela, choose and grasp your own destiny. (You wish to heal the sick,—do so; but remember your success will be measured by your faith—in yourself, more than in us. Lose it for a second, and failure will follow. I will give orders to Morya Junior—Olcott—to teach you the mechanical art.) Have faith in your soul power, and you will have success. (Letter 51, 2nd series)

Traversing the narrow path is an experience in balancing between self-forgetfulness and self-awareness, confidence and hubris, focused effort and sensitivity to others. This is accomplished moment by moment, day by day, as we strive to live with altruism in our hearts and with our minds attuned to the highest good. Realizing the inevitable failures and foibles that occur in the development of skills, we can have infinite patience with ourselves and others, as long as we keep our sight on the ultimate good of all. So let us explore the power of who we really are and forge ahead with an unflinching confidence that will lead us on to the goal of blessing and serving humanity. The way may be impossibly narrow and vertiginously exposed, but it provides direct feedback as we learn to toe the edge with balance and equanimity.

  1. Letters to the Editor
  2. The Vitality of Living Truth
  3. From the Executive Editor November - December 2008
  4. Going Around in Circles: The Labyrinths of Theosophy

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