Quest Magazine

By Margaret Nickel

Originally printed in the March - April 2005 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Nickel, Margaret. "The Angel of Central Park." Quest  93.2 (MARCH - APRIL 2005):50-51

It was a hot day in June and my first trip to New York City. I had gone to celebrate my daughter's twenty-fifth birthday. After a wonderful day of sightseeing and shopping, the highlight of the day was yet to come. We were spending the evening in Central Park listening to a concert given by Luciano Pavarotti

We arrived early as a huge crowd was expected, unpacked our food and drinks and placed our blanket on a slight slope with a good view, but not too close to the stage. Next to us was a family of four adults and some of their friends. Strangely, they knew someone we knew and we made friends instantly. We shared the space and the food, while others began to arrive. Some with chairs, some with more blankets, and slowly a happy little community formed. More people began to arrive and we all introduced ourselves and said where we were from. The weather cooled off, and it was a fabulous summer night. The crowd continued to grow, and soon the ground was covered with a mass of people. As more people came our space began to get a little tight.

Then a man walked up, he was alone. He stood next to a chair at the front corner of our blanket. His expression was placid. He smiled, but did not say a word. I smiled back. He was of average build with a slightly swarthy complexion, and though there was nothing striking about him at the time, he appeared very calm and kind.

The concert was scheduled for eight o'clock, but by seven the crowd had swelled and was getting a little noisy. Soon there were loud conversations and our little community's "personal space" was invaded. So we huddled together as our space began to shrink, little by little. The man didn't move, however, he just stood there at the corner of our quilt. About fifteen minutes before the concert was to begin, an argument broke out. Someone cursed and started throwing things. My daughter and I were anxious by this time, but when I looked over at the man, he just stood in the same place, calm and serene.

It was almost time for the concert to begin when a fight broke out. We struggled with the decision of whether to stay or leave. By this time, our quilt was in a bag and we were standing elbow to elbow with others, some who were pushing and shoving. Suddenly I found myself right next to the man who had come alone. He calmly stood with the benevolent expression still on his face; an "aura" of about eighteen inches surrounded him, so no one pushed or shoved him. We stood beside the stranger listening to Pavarotti for the next three songs and then decided to leave. It was later reported that 350,000 people attended the concert.

I recognized the angel only much later that night, and the realization was immensely powerful. Of all the individuals who gathered in our little "community", he was the one whose name I never asked. He never spoke a word, but just stood with an amazing beneficence and held space for us—keeping us safe. I realized that his face had the countenance I had seen on all the avatars, and I will not forget his presence. He radiated peace. Whoever he was, that night he was the angel in Central Park, protecting me, protecting my daughter, protecting all of us. He is still with me, and his presence is real to this day.

Margaret Nickle is a member of the Memphis branch in Tennessee.

If thou art told that to become Arhan thou hast to cease to love all beings—tell them they lie. (v.123)

On a daily basis, consider your life and how you might add to the well-being of another; think of the beauty and treasures of this earth; explore the deep recesses of your heart for meaning and purpose in the realms of immortality. By doing so, each day you will be increasing the joy, gratitude, and understanding that fills our lives and our planet with living waters.

By Maria Parisen

Originally printed in the March - April 2005 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Parisen, Maria. "Angels, Mortals, and the Language of Love." Quest  93.2 (MARCH - APRIL 2005):61-63, 69

The idea of a world filled with angel presences is, for many of us, a beautiful thought. Simply imagining angels brings happiness. One reason such images are joyous is that angels are present, even in our imaginings, to uplift and heal. As archetypal figures rich in soul meaning, and again as sentient beings who range the fullness of inner space, angels are a fact in Nature and a continuous, powerful influence in human life.

We sense this influence. In 1997 the television show Touched by an Angel was the most popular program on CBS after the acclaimed news hour 60 Minutes. Each week an average of 20 million Americans watched "angels" helping people through difficult times. The interest in such phenomena as channeling, mediumship, shamanic visioning, and astral travel—in which claims abound for angel contacts—remains high. Monthly journals feature angel-human contacts in everyday life. This is more than entertainment. At best, we"re more open now to the messages angels bring, to glimpses of a more wholesome power and purpose.

The popular view of angels is that they are wise, loving messengers of God. Angels know how to avoid trouble; they make the best of difficult situations, using heavenly powers. The prevailing notions blend religious and cultural beliefs, media images, hopeful fantasy, and direct experience. A universal idea from ancient times is that angels are simply part of our wider family, the community of that divine Spirit to which we all belong. Some companions are visible, others unseen but always near.

Angels are often pictured as bringing the Word of God to humans, as harbingers of divine intent. They bridge the realms of heaven and earth, praising God and turning human hearts toward spiritual realities. Angel encounters, whether inspiring or terrifying, are always memorable, because they invite each of us to embrace a wider being, an immortal life, while yet on earth.

A Sanskrit word similar to angel in the Hindu and Buddhist traditions is deva, "shining one," used loosely for a wide range of such beings. Another related term is Dhyan Chohan, "Lord of Meditation" or "Lord of Light." The hierarchies of Dhyan Chohans are said to be beyond humanity in evolution, charged with the growth and development of all nature"s kingdoms, including humanity. H. P. Blavatsky gives this perspective:

The whole Kosmos is guided, controlled, and animated by an almost endless series of hierarchies of sentient Beings, each having a mission to perform, and who—whether we give them one name or another, whether we call them Dhyan Chohans or Angels—are "Messengers" in the sense only that they are agents of karmic and cosmic law. (SD I: 274)

Theosophy affirms that the universe is alive throughout in a unity of being and becoming. All beings, from the smallest to the greatest, are One in essence. Unity is a fact in heaven and on earth. Yet individuality and diversity prevail equally for galaxies, solar systems, planets, and celestial hierarchies as well as for embodied creatures.

Hierarchy and Wholeness

Both unity and individuality are found in hierarchy, from star to atom, from seraphim to nature spirit. Nested levels of consciousness and function are nature"s way. Each human consciousness enfolds many younger beings in the physical body alone; billions of individual cells cohere in hierarchies of tissues and organ systems. Human families enfold their constituent lives and are in turn part of a national and planetary whole. Hierarchy is resonance, subtle communication, mutual adaptation, and growth—each organism re-creating itself in relation with all others.

Our earth, solar system, and far distant galaxies are all linked in bonds of sympathy and helpfulness. All are expressions of God"s holy purpose and plan. And in a wonderful mystery, all are not simply containers for diverse beings but are the very life of visible and invisible intelligences. Instinctive, semiconscious, and fully enlightened beings commingle, learn, and grow together. Beneath the apparent solidity of things, within the beauty and complexity of forms, one discovers life—one may correctly say angel consciousness—everywhere.

Madame Blavatsky notes that just as every external human action is preceded by internal thought, emotion, and will, "the universe is worked and guided from within outwards." (SD I: 274) And she explains:

In Esoteric Philosophy, every physical particle corresponds to and depends on its higher noumenon—the Being to whose essence it belongs; and above as below, the Spiritual evolves from the Divine, the psycho-mental from the Spiritual . . . the whole animate and (seemingly) inanimate Nature evolving on parallel lines, and drawing its attributes from above as well as from below. (SD I: 218)

The physicality so vivid and central to human life is only one dimension among many "fields" that we may call home. The planetary realms of thought, feeling, and intuitive and archetypal forces underlie physical form as a radiant soul life. These largely invisible planes of inner space are the various intelligences focused there. Various beings make our planetary realms of soul and Spirit their home. They center themselves in states of consciousness, or dimensions, where they can grow in wisdom, love, and spiritual power. As we gradually awaken to the fullness of being human, we not only discover angel companions but enter into the deva Spirit of humanity itself.

The Guardian Spirit

The mortal nature is nearest to diversity, where forms and differences are most compelling. But those centered in physicality, whose soul life is confined in five senses, personal desire, and linear thinking, are scarcely alive. Angels hold little meaning for such mortals, as the human-angel bond requires spiritual perception. Such perception is not merely clairvoyance but insight, which comes with full participation in the life within and around us, guided by love.

Enfolding the human body and soul is an immortal Spirit, a deva Self. This immortal individual, whose being spans worlds, inspires its mortal child to reach out for others, to give without fear, to inquire into life"s deeper meanings. Madame Blavatsky notes that an even wider presence guides the human Monad or innermost Self throughout its journey. The Self is receptive or feminine in relation to its Lord or Father, with whom it will eventually reunite in homecoming.

The star under which a human entity is born, says the Occult teaching, will remain forever its star, throughout the whole cycle of its incarnations in one manvantara. But this is not his astrological star. The latter is concerned and connected with the personality, the former with the INDIVIDUALITY. The Angel of the Star, or the Dhyani-Buddha will be either the guiding or simply the presiding "Angel," so to say, in every new rebirth of the monad, which is part of his own essence, though his vehicle, man, may remain forever ignorant of this fact. The adepts have each their Dhyani-Buddha, their elder twin-Soul and they know it, calling it "Father-Soul" and "Father Fire." It is only at the last and supreme initiation, however, that they learn it when placed face to face with the bright "Image." (De Zirkoff, 72-3)

Throughout its vast cosmos, the divine Source remains undivided, simply one. Thus, separation anywhere, anytime, is impossible and an illusion. Beings who feel and act from a sense of separateness, who struggle against the greater belonging, suffer greatly and cause suffering. The immortal Self that guides enlightened beings of all worlds acts through participation, in joyous communion with the whole of creation. Its radiant love wills the greatest good for each and all.

The highest planetary spirits are a hierarchy of compassion who guard and guide all life within their various spheres. Compassion is an empathic power, an intuitive participation in the suffering of another. A desire to alleviate suffering and illumine its causes motivates these beings. Composed of the divinities, buddhas, bodhisattvas, avatars, and saviors, human adepts, and noble others moved by selfless love, the hierarchy of compassion is symbolized as a guardian wall. An efflux of divine radiance, flowing from the spiritual heights to its outermost limits, strengthens, protects, and guides humanity as it can.

Two elements of deva life are worth noting briefly, as they influence all our relations. First is that these intelligences have no sense of a separate, personal self. Their individuality derives from the hierarchy to which they belong. They serve their hierarchy, carrying out its planetary purpose, from a primary feeling of unity. Thus, we work with devas most effectively when guided by selfless, unconditional love. Moreover, true angel contacts never inflate the human ego.

Second, the highest among these unified spirits have moved through the human kingdom. Mortality is a state of equilibrium in which the realms of heaven and earth are linked through Manas, the unitive mind. Manas is vital to the whole process of creation. It transforms archetypal forces into spirit-filled thought forms that manifest in diverse ways. Enlightened beings are agents of transformation, but when working in invisible spheres they need human helpers. Our most trustworthy bridge to deva consciousness is Manas, the mind set free by love.

The World Mother

The theosophist Geoffrey Hodson, a skilled clairvoyant, did a study of mothers during their months of pregnancy. He perceived angels helping the child"s development in the womb. They assisted mainly with two processes: constructing the physical, etheric, emotional, and mental bodies of the child and also inducting the reincarnating Ego into them. Hodson observed further that these angels were agents of a "great Intelligence which presides over and directs all maternal processes throughout Nature," and he noted, "The teachings of occult philosophy relate this Being to the Feminine or Mother Aspect of the Deity, of which She is a manifestation and representative" (Hodson 242).

Hodson was familiar with the World Mother as divine feminine, represented in such figures as Quan Yin, Isis, Sophia, and the Virgin Mary, said to be Queen of Angels. She also symbolizes the World Soul, embodying the collective thought of the highest planetary spirits. Such thought carries wisdom, compassion, and creative power—all forces directed by and through the divine Mother. Her guidance is not external to creation but flows from mystic union within.

Angel Encounters

Among the many orders of Christian angels, the archangel Gabriel is linked with the processes of birth and death, especially for mortals with a high calling. In the familiar telling, Gabriel appears to the Virgin Mary to announce, that she will give birth to the Savior. In images of this sacred moment, when Mary and Gabriel meet, the surroundings tell a wider story. A vase of white roses signifies Mary"s purity, while red roses suggest self-sacrifice and the sorrow to come. Gabriel carries a scepter or staff, emblem of planetary authority. He is shown as a winged being, thus at home in the heavens but able to travel between worlds. In some images, Gabriel and Mary are the same height, denoting similar spiritual stature. All these details are meant for meditative inquiry.

Gabriel also brings to Mohammad the words of the Koran. This vision, recounted by the Prophet and enlarged by folklore, is especially vivid and relays something of the preparation needed for a world-changing collaboration. In Islamic images of such encounters, which are rare, the archangel in his cosmic form may tower above Mohammad.

It takes place just after Mohammad has been chosen as prophet. One night three Angels come to him while he sleeps, cut open his breast and tear out his heart. With water from the sacred well they wash the heart and lave away all that they find within him of doubt, idolatry, paganism and error. Then they fill the cavity with a liquid of wisdom poured from a golden vessel, replace the heart and sew up the breast again.

 

On the next night, "I lay asleep in my house. It was a night in which there were thunder and lightning. No living beings could be heard, no bird journeyed. No one was awake, whereas I was not asleep; I dwelt between waking and sleeping." Suddenly Gabriel the Archangel descended in his own form, of such beauty, of such sacred glory, of such majesty, that all my dwelling was illuminated. When he had approached me, he took me in his arms, kissed me between the eyes and said, "O sleeper, how long wilt thou sleep? Arise! Tenderly will I guide thee. Fear not, for I am Gabriel thy brother."" (Wilson 135)

The archangel Michael is often pictured in battle dress, sometimes engaged in battle with hideous winged beasts. His angel legions surround him in a mighty effort to slay the elemental horde. In the Jewish mystical tradition of Kabbalah, Michael occupies a central position on the Tree of Life, where he may represent the spiritual Self, whose wisdom must guide and sustain the seeker in righteous battle.

The personal self has not the capacity for the long, arduous effort to banish the greed, fanaticism, and hatred symbolized by the mutant beasts. Only in alliance with the Holy Guardian, whether in this form or another, can the battle be fought to liberation. Michael symbolizes the warrior within, especially for humanity as a whole. He is concerned not with superficial irritations but with humanity"s deeper sorrows and sufferings.

Madame Blavatsky notes that that the archangels Gabriel and Michael correspond to the Hebrew Elohim and to certain orders of Dhyan Chohans. These Dhyanis are said to watch over and guide humanity"s great evolutionary journey, an awakening of full spiritual consciousness through many successive stages. We are never alone, as individuals or a collective humanity. The hierarchy of compassion is always near, ever vigilant, able to intervene when karmic law permits.

Annie Besant (19-21), no stranger to righteous battle, sounds the call to action:

The intellectual and religious progress of nations is in the hands of the great Beings who are called Rshis, or Masters . . . in whom Divinity is manifest. These are the liberate spirits . . . who bear on Their strong shoulders the heavy burden of evolving humanity. They are the Founders of the many religions . . . who guard and foster the religions, inspire them . . . strive to lift them out of superstition, redeem them from degradation. They stimulate the intellect of humanity, throw into receptive minds the ideas which illuminate . . . open the sense to the beautiful.

Unceasing in vigilance, untiring in patience, illimitable in tenderness, They watch over humanity and tread the path it must follow . . . Long, long might humanity wander, were it not for these Guardians who lead from bondage to peace.

In our ears today the great cry is sounding: "Who will help us?" We are all, my brothers, feeble; poor is our strength and limited our intelligence. But love can make strong the weakness of our power, and love can illuminate the obscurity of our intelligence. The heart that loves, that utterly surrenders itself, that says in answer: "I will help; here am I . . ." —such a heart is never rejected; to such a one rings back the answer: "Come and work with us for humanity; share the toil, and share also the glory of achievement; come with us and let us labour together for the uplifting of mankind."

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References:

 

Besant, Annie. "The Guardians of Humanity." Lecture in the Theosophical Hall, Adyar, March 8, 1908. Adyar, Madras: Theosophical Publishing House, 1908.

Blavatsky, H. P. The Secret Doctrine, Vol. I. Pasadena, CA: Theosophical University Press, 1977.

De Zirkoff, Boris. H. P. Blavatsky Collected Writings, Vol. XIII. Wheaton, IL: Theosophical Publishing House, 1982.

Hodson, Geoffrey. The Kingdom of the Gods. Adyar, Madras: Theosophical Publishing House, 1952.

Wilson, Peter Lamborn. Angels. New York: Pantheon Books, 1980.

 

 

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Maria Parisen is the compiler of the anthology Angels and Mortals: Their Co-Creative Power (Theosophical Publishing House 1990). She has led several workshops in the United States on healing, meditation, and the spiritual life.

By Anita Phillips

Originally printed in the March - April 2005 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Phillips, Anita. "Wonders Never Cease." Quest  93.2 (MARCH - APRIL 2005):53

When I was seven, my parents, whom I adored, decided to separate and place my five-year-old sister and me in a convent, which did not suit us at all. After the first three days of overwhelming sadness, I ran through the woods until I could run no longer and fell on the soft grass.

As I sat there weeping uncontrollably, I pleaded with God to reconcile my parents and return us to our former lives. Suddenly I felt a warmth on my back. Slowly raising my head with my eyes still shut, I thanked the sun for its heat. As I squinted at the sun's brilliance, I caught my breath in awe because I was surrounded by hundreds of white trilliums. A foot above the trilliums stood two beings surrounded in white light. I was mesmerized by them and increasingly had a sense of enormous well-being. The stillness between the beings and myself seemed to go on forever. I had no urge to move, as their light seemed warmer to me than that of the sun! I wanted nothing to disturb the euphoria I felt. It seemed like time extended itself beyond the cosmos. I thought, if these two were indeed my guardian angels, wouldn't they always be with me?

Then I heard the convent bell ring across the field of trilliums. As I looked back toward the convent, I realized it was time for chapel meditation before dinner. The angels had vanished. As I walked back with a spirit of joyful wonder, I vowed to myself that what I had received was a lamp of inner power whose illumination would strengthen my life in the days ahead.

For the next ten years I lived in the sanctum sanctorum of the convent finding ever-constant solace by visiting the field of trilliums when striving to resolve my spiritual dilemmas. Always I carried the memory of that first encounter with the angels of white light and believed in the light that was left within me, whose brilliance remains undiminished with time.

It was not until I left the convent and embarked upon my own journey that I realized that prayers are answered, not necessarily on my own schedule, but when the angels deign to calm troubled waters. Even as an adult, I was a persistent pest to the Almighty and would not let Him off the hook. Every night I prayed for my parents' reconciliation. At the age of twenty-four, I was to marry a New York fire chief, and after seventeen years of persistent prayers, my parents announced their reconciliation on my wedding day. Truly, wonders and miracles never cease in a theosophical mind!

Anita Phillips is a member from Arizona.She was founding editor of "Poet's Perspective" a weekly column for the Yuma Daily Sun and during the summer, she conducts a writer's retreat in Port Susan, Washington.

By Annette Weis

Originally printed in the March - April 2005 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Weis, Annette. "A Thanksgiving Presence." Quest  93.2 (MARCH - APRIL 2005):55-56

The day before Thanksgiving several years ago, I drove from northern New Jersey to Boston to pick up my daughter and two other girls for the holiday. I had agreed to give the two girls a ride to a stop on the New York Thruway, where their parents would meet them. Because of the number of people and the luggage, I chose to take our big old station wagon.

The day was overcast and the trip definitely had the feeling of pre-holiday travel. When I arrived in the picturesque college town north of Boston, it started to snow. The girls were waiting anxiously to go home, and I had not stopped more than once on the way because I was also eager to return before nightfall.

The girls got comfortable in the backseat for the long drive while my daughter sat up front. The traffic was already heavier on the interstate than it had been just an hour before. When we reached the Massachusetts Turnpike, it was like a horror film. Not only was the traffic dense but everyone was traveling way over the speed limit. To drive the speed limit or only slightly above was dangerous because the other cars sped past in a blur. Luckily, the snow showers had stopped.

I was driving in the right lane of the turnpike, squeezed between two sixteen wheelers. The one behind me was so close to my tailgate that one of the girls in the backseat commented about how close the truck was, even though we were driving at 80 mph. The truck driver gave no indication of wanting to pass me, so when the traffic cleared, I moved into the middle lane in order to pass the truck in front of me.

Suddenly, the truck in front decided to move into the middle lane as I was passing him! There was heavy traffic in the left lane with no opportunity to shift into that lane. The side flasher was about a foot from my daughter's head as the semi kept moving toward us. The girls in the back rolled down the window and began shouting at the driver, while I and the car behind me honked our horns. I had to choose either to move into the left lane and take my chances or definitely have the right side of the car cut off by the truck. We were still traveling at 80 mph just to keep up with traffic. If I slowed down, the back half of the truck was sure to hit us square on. I swung to the left with such speed and at such an angle that I landed horizontally in the left lane with the front half of the car on the left shoulder and the back of the car projecting into the left lane of traffic. The right bumper hit the dividing rail.

Everything came to a halt. All traffic behind us stopped in a straight line. The truck that almost hit us sped away, oblivious to what had happened. A tall man with dark wavy hair wearing a colorful plaid flannel shirt with suspenders faced us with his back to the traffic and his arms extended to stop the traffic. Somehow, the girls in the back of the car got out and walked across the highway to the right shoulder. My daughter and I stayed in the car and followed the man's hand directions to the larger right shoulder. There I was able to examine the car and found a small dent in the fender but felt the car was okay to continue to a rest stop. Traffic now was speeding by so fast that I felt scared to open the car door to get in. Before doing so, I turned to thank the man, but he was nowhere to be found.

All four of us were shaking and drove in silence to the next rest stop. After we had had a few minutes to collect ourselves, I commented that I didn't know what would have happened without the stranger's help and that I didn't understand how he could have appeared so quickly and done what he did. I felt terrible about not being able to express my gratitude. The girls asked, "What man?"

My daughter thought she saw someone but wasn't really sure. She did wonder how we made it across the highway to the right shoulder of the road. I know how we did, and the whole incident has changed my life. It has given me strength to make some major decisions and has influenced me in many ways that I cannot begin to describe. Even as I write this, tears of gratitude flow for my Thanksgiving presence.

Annette Weis is a member from New Jersey.