Quest Magazine

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.

Letters to the Editor

 Originally printed in the NOVEMBER-DECEMBER 2008 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation:  "Letters to the Editor." Quest  96.6 (NOVEMBER-DECEMBER 2008):.

Richard,
 
I am writing to applaud your suggestions for the future direction of The Quest. I completely agree. It strikes me that from issue to issue articles appear that are largely a permutation of words and ideas from articles in previous issues. 
 
I am one of those readers who "adhere to the Society's core principles, including the idea that there is a universal 'secret doctrine' that has been expressed over the millennia in countless and often apparently contradictory forms." I welcome "wide and disparate viewpoints," and "literate, stimulating, and spiritually enlivening writing." 
 
We all seek to evolve spiritually, become more compassionate, practice mindfulness, etc., but to me the magazine is overbalanced in that area. I wonder if Theosophists consider that their founder's "Secret Doctrine" is more about the inner mechanisms of the universe than about "working on ourselves," or "being a better person," even though those goals are of great importance. 
 
In spite of the validity of the perennial philosophy, there is also something to be said for adapting our inner lives to keep in sync with the ever more rapidly shifting outer reality we now live in. 
 
I sometimes feel like The Quest is a magazine from the past that has time-traveled into the present. 
I'm encouraged that you are now the editor.
 
—Monte Zerger
Alamosa, Colorado

 

Dear Mr. Smoley, 
 
     I'm very happy to see you as executive editor of The Quest! Gnosis used to be the only spiritual magazine that I found at the time which I felt sufficiently worthwhile to subscribe to. It was a big loss when it folded. Even now the number of spiritual magazines I do get is small: apart from The Quest, The Mountain Path (Advaita), Venture Inward, Atlantis Rising, and Nexus are the only ones I subscribe to that have some spiritual content, although the latter two of course are much broader.
 
     I think the big challenge for you is that TS has been in the doldrums for a long time. The value of the TS, of course, is that it is not a religion. I am firmly convinced that religion is the bane of spirituality, and the TS makes sure not to preach dogma, nor does it have a hierarchy that needs to fatten themselves or dominate others. But it cannot do much if it comes across as geriatric. 
 
     So I think something has to be done to make it clear that new folks and new ideas are on the rise. Spirituality is of great value to all, not just old folks. Indeed you can see this if you go to most New Age bookshops—I do not feel that they cater primarily to the elderly. So, in principle, TS should be able to capture the same broader demographic. 
 
     One very small suggestion I would have is to get David Icke to write something. His book Infinite Love Is the Only Truth, Everything Else Is Illusion constitutes the most remarkably panoramic view of spirituality that I've encountered in any book. He is primarily known as a lecturer on Illuminati/conspiracy/ET topics, but he has achieved an amazing depth of spiritual knowledge and this particular book (of his many) puts it across forcefully.
 
—Vytenis Babrauskas, Ph.D.
Issaquah, Washington

 

Dear Betty Bland,
 
Why are you still using glossy paper for The Quest when other options are more environmentally responsible?
     Thanks to you and your team for holding the light of Theosophy in our challenging world!
 
—Michael Burtt
Emigrant, Montana
 
Editor's note: Good question, and one that we get from time to time. The quick answer is that we use glossy paper for its esthetic value. We don't use recycled paper for the very simple and unfortunately very crucial reason that it is still more expensive than nonrecycled. Like much of the nation, we are facing tight strictures on our budget. Our paper stock is, we believe, the best choice available for both appearance and affordability.

 

John Algeo, in his article on Colonel Olcott (Sept.-Oct. 2008), makes the following statement: "Today, the 'theory' of evolution is accepted fact, and the means by which physical evolution happens are fairly well known. Except for some dogmatic religious fundamentalists no one doubts [its] reality."
 
     Not true. Over five hundred scientists have signed on to this statement "We are skeptical of claims for the ability of random mutation and natural selection to account for the complexity of life. Careful examination of the evidence for Darwinian theory should be encouraged."
 
     The changes needed to account for the development of even the simplest life forms require multiple random events to occur simultaneously. When the mathematics of probability are applied to this event, the time period required easily exceeds the age of the universe.
 
     Another problem for the Darwinists is the existence of the irreducible complexity of certain biological systems. Michael Behe, a professor of biochemistry at Lehigh University, spells this out in his book Darwin's Black Box. There are many more anomalies in Darwin's paradigm, but they are not taught or discussed in our schools for fear of challenging the scientism of the day. Thomas Huxley stated over a century ago: "Even if Darwinism is clearly false above the microevolutionary level, it is nevertheless the only scientific theory available, and that is more important than the question of truth or falsity."
 
     Lastly, I would suggest that John get a copy of Intelligence Came First (1975) by E. Lester Smith, a Theosophist and Fellow of the Royal Society who raised many of the same objections to Darwinian evolution that are now getting some attention.
 
—Herbert Lubitz
Wilmington, Delaware
 
Editor's note: The statement mentioned above is entitled "A Scientific Dissent from Darwinism," promulgated in 2001 by the Discovery Institute, a conservative think tank based in Washington, D.C. To view the list of signers, visit http://www.dissentfromdarwin.org .

 

     I enjoyed Richard Smoley's article, "The Future of Esoteric Christianity," in the July-Aug. issue. I thought that esotericism was an occult idea. The article made it clear that as a Catholic Christian, I was an "esoteric" without realizing it, as I was always oriented toward the mystery of things while keeping a distance from what was going on in the institutional side.
 
     The article says that "the human race is ready for something different." Over thirty years ago I was introduced to an idea that was indeed profound. Thomas Berry [author of The Dream of the Earth and other works] was the man with that vision. He has proposed to take Christianity out of the age of Aquinas and into a vision of cosmogenesis—a self-regulating, emergent universe that has had a psychic dimension from the beginning. He has called for a theology of reconciliation between humans and the earth and for a worldview that is scientific in its data and mystic in its form.
 
—Frank Sutherland
Hanna, Alberta, Canada

 

Dear Mr. Smoley,
 
Shame on you. Your otherwise excellent article on "The Future of Esoteric Christianity" was remiss in failing to mention Unity as one "denomination" that is oriented toward the esoteric perspective. Charles and Myrtle Fillmore were very familiar with Blavatsky's works, and many Theosophical tenets resonate throughout Unity philosophy. I cannot believe that you are unfamiliar with Unity, but if you are not, I would suggest you become so. One good book is The Unity Movement: Its Evolution and Spiritual Teachings by Neal Vahle.
 
     I'm not trying to be sarcastic. I really can't believe that you made no mention of Unity in your article.
 
—Jeff Cosby
Greenville, Illinois

 

The Quest welcomes letters to the editor. We reserve the right to edit letters for clarity, content, and length.

The Vitality of Living Truth

By Joy Mills

Originally printed in the NOVEMBER-DECEMBER 2008 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Mills, Joy. "The Vitality of Living Truth." Quest  96.6 (NOVEMBER-DECEMBER 2008):207-210, 225.

Theosophical Society - Joy Mills was an educator who served as President of the Theosophical Society in America from 1965–1974, and then as international Vice President for the Theosophical Society based in Adyar

PERHAPS SOME OF YOU HAVE BEEN AS ENCHANTED as I have been by Richard Bach's work Curious Lives, in which he has recounted "Adventures from the Ferret Chronicles." Bach is probably best known as the author of Jonathan Livingston Seagull, but his "Ferret Chronicles" make for a most delightful read. In the foreword to Curious Lives, Bach informs us that for half a century he has been asking such questions as, "Is the world in our mind . . . and not outside? What if all we see about us are reflections of what we think is so? What's reflected when we decide to change our thought?" He goes on to say how bored he has become with "drama about evil, films about war and malice and crime," so that if he had "to watch one more prison scene, one more aggression, one more gigantic spectacular stupendous explosion on-screen," he would "walk out and rebuild the universe."
 
Bach then continues with his questions: "What if . . . a culture grew up without evil, without crime or war? What would it do with all the energies that we squander on our destructions? How would it feel to live in a world where we choose our highest right and not our darkest wrong, where we lift each other instead of always and ever putting each other down?"
 
Good questions, those, particularly because they set me to asking some of my own: What would the world be like if every individual who believed in the Theosophical ideal of universal brotherhood really lived in accordance with that principle? More to the point, what would happen if I not only acknowledged but actually lived the stupendous, mind-shattering, heart-inspiring, fundamental truth that there is only One Life? What if, joined by others who are equally bored by the endless diet of scandal, political corruption, corporate greed, and road rage, I set out to rebuild the world?
 
In concluding The Key to Theosophy, HPB responds to questions concerning the future of Theosophy and of the Theosophical Society. In the first instance, she states unequivocally that Theosophy "will ever exist throughout the infinitudes of the Future," because it "is synonymous with Everlasting Truth." In regard to the future of the Society, however, her response is cast in problematic terms: "Its future will depend almost entirely upon the degree of selflessness, earnestness, devotion, and last, but not least, on the amount of knowledge and wisdom possessed by those members, on whom it will fall to carry on the work."
 
When asked why knowledge should be such a vital factor, HPB states that it is not a matter of "technical knowledge of the esoteric doctrine," but rather of the kind of knowledge that possesses "that vitality which living truth alone can impart." All too frequently, knowledge has been equated with information, with what we sometimes call "hard facts," but it is quite obvious that HPB had something else in mind when she used that word. So let us pursue a little further what she may have meant by knowledge in this context, even equating it with "living truth" and therefore with Theosophy itself.
 
There is a unique part of the Mahatma Letters, published as an appendix to the volume The Letters of H. P. Blavatsky to A. P. Sinnett, and more recently to the chronological edition of The Mahatma Letters to A. P. Sinnett under the title "Cosmological Notes." The document begins with the question "What are the different kinds of knowledge?", to which the response is given, "The real and the unreal," with the added comment that "real knowledge deals with eternal verities and primal causes."
 
"Real knowledge," "eternal verities," "living truth": these are but a few of the terms that, when examined closely, may describe a state of knowing that transforms us completely. Consider, for example, the statement by one of the Mahatmas in a letter to Sinnett: "Real Knowledge . . . is not a mental but a spiritual state, implying full union between the Knower and the Known" (Letter 69, chronological edition). And consider also a statement in the "Cosmological Notes" which tells us that Real Knowledge "becomes Fohat . . . in its activity," indicating the dynamic, vital, living quality of true knowing. Fohat, which HPB called "an occult Tibetan term" for that primordial cosmic energy that brings about a manifested system, is the animating principle linking Universal Mind or consciousness with the vehicles in which that consciousness becomes individualized. Furthermore, HPB equates Fohat with eros, which is simply to say that real knowledge is the energy or dynamic of love. Although more could be said about Fohat, our concern at present is not with the technicalities of cosmic processes. While recognizing that true knowledge is an energy that moves, sustains, and transforms, our immediate focus is on exploring the essential knowing, the "living truth," that so vitalizes us that we do indeed create a new world.
 
We may read the phrase "the living truth" in two ways: first, as the necessity for each of us to live the truth, our own truth, the truth as we know it when we see things as they are, not as we might wish them to be or as the mind conceives them; and, second, as the essential fact that truth by its very nature is living, dynamic, vibrant, and capable of transforming us. As the contemporary cosmologist Brian Swimme has said, "Deep truths challenge us profoundly. To understand them demands a change in ourselves along with a creative leap of the imagination." The late president of the Theosophical Society, N. Sri Ram, put the matter this way: "The Truth which we seek must be the Truth of direct experience, in which the distinction between subject and object has ceased to exist." He added that "Truth is a becoming, but each must find it by the realization of it within himself. And he can realize it only as he seeks to embody it in his life, so that all one is and does becomes more and more beautiful each day."
 
To seek Truth, to know the wholeness of Truth as actual experience: that is the journey on which we are really engaged. The Theosophical author J. J. van der Leeuw beautifully and powerfully expressed the nature of this seeking in his book The Conquest of Illusion: "Unless we ask with our whole being, heart and soul and mind, unless we can hardly eat or drink or sleep unless we know, unless life is no longer worth living without the experience of living truth, we shall not gain it. We must desire truth more than life itself if we are to be worthy of experiencing it."
 
Even if we consider that truth as an absolute is beyond conception, we may yet discover that as a reality truth is not beyond experience. It is essentially inherent in experience and in the "experiencer" when the distinction between the two has ceased to exist. It is the discovery of that reality which seats us, as it were, in the livingness of truth, so that we are no longer content with concepts that have in no way changed us or transformed us. Concepts are simply constructs of the mind, satisfying our hunger for logic and reason. But the experience of truth calls us to be other than we are; it transforms us from within so that we can never be the same again. Truth answers to a deeper hunger within us, beyond the mind and yet not mindless, rooted in the consciousness of the One, the hunger to know, to experience the Real.
 
There is a vast difference between knowing something intellectually and knowing it as a lived experience. For the Theosophist, I would suggest, the gap between intellectual knowledge and the living truth is fatal, for the former may leave us essentially unmoved in possession of concepts that, while perhaps beautiful in themselves, have never touched us. As a result, our lives continue in the programmed patterns of the past, which we call our karma, and we walk the world almost as the "living dead." The other, the living truth, known and experienced in the depths of our being, continually acts within us to give us renewed vitality, energy, and strength to meet whatever occurs on our journey. By intellectual knowledge, we may know about many things and be able to discourse about numerous ideas. By the experience of truth itself, we know the one thing that really matters and we are constantly renewed from within.
 
Out of this genuine experience there arises the question: What action, what movement within me, is necessary to translate the energy of truth into the life I live, into this present, incarnate existence? How can my life reflect in every action, every thought and feeling, that experience which I know to have been an encounter with truth? At the same time, how do I know that the experience, which to me seemed so very meaningful, was indeed a genuine encounter with truth?
 
Perhaps these questions are most easily answered by suggesting that any experience which broadens rather than narrows, which expands rather than contracts our sensitivity to life and our concern for the welfare of all that lives, must be one that at least approximates truth. When the mind and heart are one and completely open to what is, then truth speaks to us, for we have come into perfect accord with the true nature of things. To come into such perfect accord, there must be a cleansing of the heart and a clearing of the mind, so that we may feel and see and know the One in the midst of the many, forgetting self in the wonder of the Universal Self.
 
There is a beautiful phrase used in one of the Yoga Sutras (section 1, sutra 48) to describe the spiritual state of consciousness known as prajna. It is said of that pure consciousness that it is "truth- and right-bearing," the Sanskrit term being rtambhara. As I. K. Taimni points out in The Science of Yoga, Ultimate Reality "is referred to as Sat [or "isness"] and Its existence in the Universe manifests in two fundamental ways." First, "It constitutes the truth or the very essence of all things." We have this in the motto of the Theosophical Society: Satyam paro nasti dharma, which has been translated, "There is no Religion higher than Truth." The second way in which Ultimate Reality manifests is known as rtam, which Taimni defines as "cosmic order including all laws—natural, moral or spiritual—in their totality which are eternal and inviolable in their nature." So "Rtambhara Prajna is thus that kind of consciousness which gives an unerring perception of the Right and the True underlying manifestation." It is to awaken in ourselves that kind of consciousness that our human journey is undertaken.
 
As we consciously proceed on this human journey, our experiences may well awaken us to new insights if we are open to question the meaning of every experience. When those new insights stir us, transform us, reshape us from within, then it is inevitable that we will act in the world in new ways, ways that reflect the uniqueness of our own encounters with truth. We do not need to ask, "How should I act?" or "What should I do in this or that particular situation?" Our action flows effortlessly from our perception or knowing or direct experience of what is. Let me illustrate.
 
The Theosophical worldview postulates that there is but One Life, that everything in the universe about us in all its diversity is still but an expression of that One Life. HPB told her students, "Existence is one thing, not any collection of things linked together." Annie Besant recognized this unity in the opening words of her well-known invocation: "O Hidden Life, vibrant in every atom." Today many physicists, as well as biologists, ecologists, and leading thinkers in other disciplines, are speaking of the interconnectedness of all living systems. But the idea put forward by HPB is different, because it goes past positing unity as mere interconnection. Rather, as she put it, "fundamentally there is One Being . . . there is nothing outside it." She emphasized this great idea in The Secret Doctrine: "The radical unity of the ultimate essence of each constituent part of compounds in Nature—from star to mineral atom, from the highest Dhyan Chohan to the smallest infusorium, in the fullest acceptation of the term, and whether applied to the spiritual, intellectual or physical worlds—this unity is the fundamental law in Occult Science" (1:120).
 
In her Esoteric Instructions III, HPB reiterated the idea, writing that to understand the occult doctrine "fully and correctly," the student has to know "the great axiomatic truth that the only eternal and living Reality is . . . the one ever-existing Root Essence, immutable and unknowable to our physical senses, but manifest and clearly perceptible to our spiritual natures." And, she added, "once imbued with that basic idea and the further conception that if It is omnipresent, universal and eternal . . . we must have emanated from It, and we must, some day, return to It, and all the rest becomes easy." Not only have we "emanated from It," as she put it, but everything in the manifested universe derives its existence from that One, by whatever name it may be called.
 
It may be easy enough for us to acknowledge the fact that everything in the manifested universe is interconnected, but to actually know that underlying all interconnections is a fundamental Oneness may not be so easy. Yet it is precisely that truth which is to be realized and ultimately acted upon. If, as HPB has stated, this truth is "clearly perceptible to our spiritual natures," then it is for us to awaken that spiritual perception so that we actually experience, in the depths of our own being, the stupendous truth that the source and cause of all manifest existence is one absolute Reality. That, I submit, is indeed the most profound and life-altering experience anyone can have; it is the encounter with "living truth" that opens the doorway to real knowledge. All other truths are secondary, deriving from this one fundamental principle.
 
How does this One Ultimate Reality reflect itself in a world of being and becoming? HPB uses the analogy of the breath, for the aliveness of the One breathing in and breathing out reflects itself in a dynamic polar relationship exhibited everywhere throughout the manifested universe. The basic life action of the universe everywhere repeats the rhythmic order of the One, breathing in and breathing out, a cyclic process in accordance with its own inherent lawfulness. So arises our interconnectedness with all that exists. And recalling the statement quoted earlier that Real Knowledge becomes Fohat or eros, we may say quite simply that the link is love. There is a beautiful passage in Plato's dialogue The Symposium that points to this linkage between the Ultimate Reality, or the world of the gods, as Plato terms it, and the manifested system in which we dwell. Socrates relates what he has learned from Diotima, a wise woman whom he calls his instructress. When Socrates asks Diotima whether love is mortal or immortal, she responds that it is neither, "but in a mean between the two . . . intermediate between the divine and the mortal." Diotima continues by saying that "God mingles not with man, but through Love all the intercourse and converse of gods with men . . . is carried on. The wisdom which understands this is spiritual."
 
Love, then—or, if you prefer, compassion—is the living energy that unites us with the ultimate, by whatever name we may call it—God, Brahma, the One, the Vastness, the realm of the gods. It is the same energy that connects us with everything and everyone in the universe—with the distant stars as with the blade of grass and the pebbles beneath our feet, with those we call our friends as with those we may think of as our enemies. For all is made of the same substance, whether we call it akasha, mulaprakriti, alaya (to use just a few of the terms in The Secret Doctrine) or we designate it as spirit-matter, matter-energy, consciousness-matter.
 
In the world about us, we tend to see only dualities and polarities, and we speak of these as opposites: what is this is not that and what is that is not this. When we change our focus, when we see what is and realize fully that there is only one ultimate substance that manifests itself in a multiplicity of ways, all linked together in that purest of relationships called love—a relationship unen-cumbered by our usual likes and dislikes—then action flows naturally, spontaneously, beautifully. When that great truth is seen in all its magnificent splendor, we know that karma, which is harmony and lawful action, is truly love. We think of karma as the consequences of action, but when we know that inherent in the one ultimate Reality is order, purpose, supreme harmony, then there is only the breathing in, the breathing out, the rhythmic order, which is lawful. That is karma as creativity, as love, the pulsation of the One. Every act becomes one of love, having within it the creative potential to bring into being that which is new, fresh, beautiful, an expression of the true. Consciousness, then, is indeed "truth- and right-bearing." So we walk through the world, not on some path that others tell us about, whether those others be mahatmas or saints or sages or our dearest friends, but on that path that is uniquely our own and which we have become. As The Voice of the Silence so rightly declares: "Thou canst not travel on the Path before thou hast become that Path itself.".
 
Every genuine experience in some measure awakens us to the reality of what is. And if the experience is truly meaningful, then it also vitalizes us and gives us renewed energy and strength. Moreover, it transforms us completely. For experience is not when something happens to us (which is our usual interpretation of the idea of karma). Experience really occurs when we happen to an event in such a way as to change ourselves, alter our perception, gain a new understanding or insight. It is in that change, that new perception or understanding, that the creative nature of karma is realized. For, as we have suggested, karma is that principle which is ever seeking to move us in new directions toward ever greater understanding. Karma is also opportunity, the opportunity to be other than we are now, to be that which we would be, and to do what we would do if we truly wish to be creative agents in building a world at peace. What really matters is not whether we believe in this or that idea, however great the idea, but what we genuinely know. And to know means that we have looked with new eyes upon ageless and immortal principles and translated them into living experience. Theosophy is action; it is transformative action when and if we have fully entered into the truth of Theosophy as a living, vital encounter.
 
Often we speak of a threefold division in the Theosophical life: meditation, study, and service. But for the one whose life is infused with the dynamics of Theosophy, the three are actually one. Every moment is one of total awareness, which is profound meditation, a giving attention to what is. Every moment is a moment of study, of learning, as we "regard earnestly all the life that surrounds you," to use the words of Light on the Path. In each moment there are opportunities for countless little acts of kindness. It is really all so very simple, for living truth is effortless.
 
It is not whether we are a sevenfold or fivefold or threefold being, a heptad of bodies, but whether we know ourselves as a continuum of energy within the one ultimate energy field that we call Reality, and so act as a whole being in tune, in perfect accord with that Oneness.
It is not whether there are processes called reincarnation, one existence following another in endless succession, but whether in this moment we are reborn into a new vision of wholeness from which every action flows outwards to heal as our present presence in the world becomes a benediction on all that exists.
 
It is not whether there is life after death, but rather that in every moment there is a dying and a rebirth, an emerging of the new that can only occur when we let go of the "has been" that we may delight in the "isness" of now, this very moment, with all its rich opportunities to act with lovingkindness, to send out thoughts of love and beauty and strength, to feel at one with all that lives.
 
It is not whether there are mahatmas or masters, the great ones of wisdom and compassion, whether they are still with us, or whether there is some path that leads us to them. Rather the question is the kind of life we are living each day and each moment of each day, how we walk upon the earth, the road we are taking in company with all humanity, all existent beings, and whether we are lending a hand to those who may be stumbling or who may need our help.
 
It is not always whether we are being of service in the world, but perhaps it is a matter of whether we are serving by being present in the world. Action is not always a physical busyness, being busy doing many things. Action may also be silent, for what we are—as Emerson once wrote—speaks louder than any words we say.
 
As for the Theosophical Society, HPB was quite right. So long as there are those in it who in themselves exhibit the "vitality of living truth," it will continue to be a beacon for those who seek in earnestness, a channel of light and beauty and love radiating ever outwards to encompass without boundaries all humanity in the living truth of universal brotherhood.

Joy Mills has studied Theosophy for over sixty years. She has served as president of the American and Australian Sections of the Theosophical Society, international vice-president of the TS, director of the School of Wisdom in Adyar, and director of the Krotona School of Theosophy. A collection of her essays, The One True Adventure: Theosophy and the Quest for Meaning, was published by Quest Books earlier this year.

  1. From the Executive Editor November - December 2008
  2. Going Around in Circles: The Labyrinths of Theosophy
  3. Contemplative Prayer: The Discipline of Silence
  4. Walking the Path With William Wordsworth

Subcategories

Book Reviews

Menu