Quest Magazine

Printed in the Fall 2013 issue of Quest magazine.
Citation: Boyd, Tim. "President's Diary" Quest  101. 4 (Fall 2013): pg. 154-155.

By Tim Boyd

The month of April started with me visiting the TS group in Detroit. This spring trip has become something of a tradition. Probably every year for the past twenty has found me visiting my Detroit TS friends. The Detroit Lodge is one of those exemplary groups that have maintained a stable and fully functional approach to the study of the Ageless Wisdom. Over the years every group has its ups and downs. Some respond well; some give up and close their doors. Detroit has responded very well to deaths of prominent leaders, relocations of people and premises, changing popular tastes, and the day-to-day, week-to-week, year-to-year chemistry of group interaction. 

As most of you know, our Olcott national headquarters is a beautiful campus, with buildings, lawns, pond, and groves of trees. In all it comprises forty-two acres. Mark Roemmich is in charge of the seemingly impossible job of maintaining and beautifying the whole thing. He does an incredible job. This year, on Earth Day, he organized a work party for staff. Everyone who could came out in their work clothes after lunch. Mark formed us into groups, and off we went with rakes, clippers, and shovels in hand to clean up the leaves and debris that had accumulated over our long winter. A couple of weeks earlier we had also experienced the worst episode of flooding in almost three decades. So there were some odd accumulations of tree branches and soil in unusual places that we had to address. Weatherwise, it was a gorgeous day—one of those days when you look out the window and wish you had some good reason to leave your desk and go outside. It was a genuine pleasure to work and talk with fellow staff members in this different setting. Clearly many of them were quite familiar with using a rake and shovel. After the afternoon of sweaty work, I slept quite well that night. 

April also celebrated the first anniversary of our Children's Bedtime Stories. A year before, my wife, Lily, along with Pat Griebeler, Danelys Valcarcel, Lois Pederson, and Dan Smolla, had the idea of developing some programming for kids. They wanted to keep it simple. The parents and students at the Prairie School of DuPage quickly became big supporters. Now, one Friday evening each month, they all gather in our library for music and stories told by some first-rate storytellers. 

In May we had a long-awaited visit from Eboo Patel. Many of you remember him as the moderator for our interreligious panel during the Dalai Lama's visit  in 2011. Eboo is a world-class figure in the interfaith community. He is a young man, a Rhodes scholar, and founder of the Interfaith Youth Core (IFYC), which has blossomed on college campuses across the country. His work has involved young people in addressing religious prejudices not merely by dialogue, but through concerted action. He came to give a Thursday night talk on his latest book, Sacred Ground, which addresses the United States' history of religious inclusion. It was an excellent talk. Unfortunately it was marred by something I had never witnessed before at any Theosophical presentation. During the question and answer period an audience member took the opportunity to attack Eboo's work, Islam, and religion in general. Had that been the full extent of it, it would not have been a problem. Everyone has a right to their opinion. However, this man's agenda was to take over the conversation and use the gathering as a platform for his extended rant. When it became clear that he did not intend to sit down and allow others to speak, he was ushered out of the building and off the grounds. 

May also saw our third annual White Lotus Day Meditation Retreat. Staff members Jim Bosco, Juliana Cesano, Pablo Sender, and I took turns presenting the theory and practice of a variety of forms of meditation.We were also joined by Andrew Vidich, who is a professor,author, and longtime meditation practitioner, and by Meredith Bosco, who led a walking meditation at our labyrinth. 

In June the Order of the Round Table, led by Mark and Kim Roemmich, had their annual pre–Father's Day campout. About thirty parents and children set up their tents on the north side of the building. They had a fire circle, sang songs, played games, roasted marshmallows, told stories, and just generally had a good time. 

A little later in the month we had our farewell celebration for Jeff Gresko. Jeff has been working full-time at Olcott since 1987—twenty-six years. His tenure here is actually even longer than that, because before he settled in full-time, he would work here a while, travel around the world, then come back and work some more. Over the years Jeff has been involved in every aspect of life and work at the headquarters. He has worked on grounds and maintenance, in accounting and housekeeping, in the bookstore and kitchen, and in the audiovisual department. During John Algeo's  administration, although the title had not yet been developed, he functioned as the chief of staff. He is one of those people who will never impress you with his ability to quote the standard Theosophical texts, but whose every action shows a life immersed in love of community and the example of selfless service. The fact that Jeff almost violently resists recognition made our celebration that much more fun for us. He had to sit there and take it. 

Another in our broadening spectrum of children's programs took place in June. "Comforting Your Child with Therapeutic Touch" was presented by Marilyn Johnston. Marilyn is a professor of nursing who trained directly with Dora Kunz in Therapeutic Touch for thirteen years. The method is successful in dealing with pain and discomfort at all levels, but children are particularly responsive. The two-hour session was designed to give parents simple tools to deal with the numerous discomforts and energy imbalances that confront their children. Although the crowd was mostly composed of mothers and their kids, there was also a sprinkling of fathers and grandparents who came for the training.  

One sad event marked the month of June. Karole Kettering, longtime member of the Theosophical Society and wife of our treasurer, Floyd, had a massive stroke and died. My first memories of Karole go back almost forty years, when she and Floyd were the focus for the Young Theosophists group at the time. They were married, and Floyd worked on the Olcott staff. They lived in one of the houses on the grounds. Frequently they would host meetings in their home. Floyd and Karole were a little older than the rest of us and had a way of grounding some of the high-flying idealism and impracticality that were a part of our youthful exuberance. Karole was always full of life and laughter.

About thirty-five years ago Karole started a Christmas food drive for less fortunate families in the area. Over time her efforts evolved into the Humanitarian Service Project, a huge operation spanning two counties that provides food for seniors and families, gifts at Christmas, educational supplies for schoolkids, and other service avenues. 

A memorial service was held for Karole here at Olcott, which filled the auditorium and overflowed into the library and lobby, where the service was also broadcast. She lived a large life and touched countless people. 

As I write this I have just returned from a two pronged event in Brazil. I was the featured speaker at the Brazilian Section's nineteenth annual International School. Then, on the day that I was returning to the U.S., I gave the opening address for the Luso Hispanic Conference, which continued for another three days after I left. The events were attended by around 200 members from Brazil and the rest of Latin America. Both conferences were held at the Instituto Teosficode Bras­lia, which in Portuguese is named Para­so na Terra—"Paradise on Earth." For many years I have heard about the activity of the Brazilian Section and about the center they have developed at the institute. They purchased the land in 1990, and in 1993 they hosted the TS World Congress there. It is truly a visionary project with an array of impressive structures which include lodging, a meeting space that can accommodate 500, dining facilities, and a beautiful Greek-style temple built on the edge of a mountain. The property is about the size of the whole city of Wheaton, where we have our national headquarters. It is an hour drive from the capital city of Bras­lia and is about a mile high. It has natural springs and waterfalls in many places, one of which I swam in during a break from the conference. It was a high-energy gathering. Although language can be something of a barrier, I know just enough Spanish to get into trouble. For those who spoke Portuguese, hand gestures, eye contact, and good intentions seemed to go a long way. I made many new friends. 

At the time of this writing, our Summer National Convention begins in one day. It will be followed directly by the Theosophical Order of Service International Conference.  Already people are starting to gather. This year we will have more than forty visitors from overseas. Once a year old friends and new gather for this event. Christmas is great, but year after year this is my favorite time.

Printed in the Fall 2013 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Smoley, Richard. "From the Editor's Desk" Quest  101. 4 (Fall 2013): pg. 122.

What is it like to be a bat? Bats, as many people know, have a sense that we don't. They are able to bounce sonar—microsound waves—off objects to help them navigate, and they use this to supplement their sense of sight. This is called echolocation. Human beings understand the principle of sonar and use it in many applications: the navy uses it to sound the depths of oceans. But we ourselves don't have a sense of echolocation. Therefore we will never be able to know what it's like to perceive with this sense.

This, in sum, is the argument of a famous article by the philosopher Thomas Nagel. (Its title is the first sentence of this editorial.) Originally published in 1974, it's one of the most influential philosophical articles to have appeared in recent decades. Nagel contends that we can know everything about how the brain works from a neurological point of view—just as we can explain how sonar works—but there is nothing as yet to explain how and why this relates to subjective experience. As one psychologist put it, "The brain resembles the mind about as much as a telephone number resembles its subscriber."

Nagel's argument, now nearly forty years old, has never been refuted. Since then, neurology has explained a great deal of how the brain works, but it has never explained, or come close to explaining, how the mind arises out of the brain. Nor has it told us if the mind can exist independently of it, although materialists tend to blithely assert that it cannot.

In fact at present the field of consciousness studies is faced with two diametrically opposite propositions: (1) the mind is the result of brain functions; (2) the mind is more than the brain and can exist outside of it. Both seem to be true, and both are backed up by substantial evidence. The second proposition, it is true, is based on anecdotal evidence (that is, these experiences are onetime events and are not repeatable in a scientific sense). But at some point enough anecdotal evidence piles up so that it cannot be ignored. Eben Alexander's bestsellingProof of Heaven, in which the author, a neurologist, tells about his experience of other realities while he was in a coma and his higher brain was not functioning, is one of the most recent of many examples. (Eben, by the way, will be a featured speaker at the TS's Summer National Convention in July 2014.)

What does all this show? Theosophy, like most esoteric traditions, sets out several planes of existence. While these don't correlate exactly between the various systems, there is a rough correspondence, and the similarities are usually more striking than the differences. In terms of the mind-brain problem, we could say that the neurological operations of the brain correspond to the physical, or lowest, plane—the only one whose existence science admits. The inner, subjective sense—how a bat, or a human being, experiences the world—could be equated with the astral plane.

Classic Theosophy speaks of a mental plane as well, this being associated with thoughts, while the astral plane is associated with emotions and desires. But in the discussion here I will lump them together under the term "astral plane," partly for the sake of simplicity, partly because it strikes me as extremely hard to posit any radical separation between thoughts and feelings.

In any event, the astral and the physical planes overlap or coincide: an emotion, we're told, corresponds to certain brain responses (in the amygdala, if I remember correctly). But they operate in quite different ways, and apparently by different laws. The neurology of the brain works electrochemically—by a certain sequence of chemical and electrical impulses. Subjectively, however, we do not experience these impulses. Instead we experience the contents of consciousness as a kind of flow—one thought leads to an emotion, the emotion to another thought, and so on. It is no coincidence that one of the most ancient and universal symbols for this astral plane is water. We even acknowledge its liquid nature with such phrases as "stream of consciousness."

This astral level is also likened to the sea. And this points to an extremely important, and often overlooked, aspect of the human condition. We live in this sea like fish, and, perhaps like fish, we are usually unaware of this medium that surrounds us. We do not even differentiate it from ourselves in the deepest sense. We take the ocean of thoughts, emotions, and images that we swim in to be identical to ourselves, to be ourselves.Hence when I am struck by an overpowering emotion, I often fail to step back from it and realize that I am not that emotion.

Printed in the Fall 2013 issue of Quest magazine.
Citation: Spangler, David. "The Sidhe and the Guardian Exercise" Quest  101. 4 (Fall 2013): pg. 148-151.

By David Spangler

All of my life I've been aware of the nonphysical realms and the beings that inhabit them. For years I've thought of myself as an explorer of these realms, a kind of "naturalist" of the subtle worlds.In my work, I have long been in collaboration with subtle colleagues.

I mention this because in 2011, a different kind of collaboration began, one that was unique in my experience. In the spring of that year, I was contacted by a representative of the Sidhe (pronounced "shee"). According to my friend John Matthews, the British spiritual teacher, author, and expert on Celtic spirituality, Sidhe is the "oldest known name for the faery races of Ireland" and means the "people of peace" or the "people of the Hollow Hills."

The nature of this contact was different from anything I'd encountered before. While the three individualities who came to me—a female and two males—were nonphysical and invisible to ordinary sight, they did not at all feel like any subtle being I'd known. I later came to realize that these beings dwell in what might be thought of as a parallel dimension, not in the subtle worlds as such. They consider themselves our "cousins," and, as I understand it, share a common ancient ancestor with humanity.

For reasons too lengthy to go into here, these beings asked me and my colleague in the Lorian Association, Jeremy Berg, to create a deck of cards that could act as a point of contact with them. My task was to write the text material, and Jeremy's was to paint the pictures. In undertaking this project, we were given strict instructions. For instance, we were limited to thirty-three cards, no more and no less. We also could not depict the Sidhe themselves in any of the cards.

There were three reasons why they made this last request. The primary one is in order to prevent imposing a particular form either upon the Sidhe themselves or upon the imagination of a person using the cards. A second reason is that the Sidhe are protean beings,able within some limits to shape-shift or configure their appearance to meet the demands of a situation. And a third reason was that they are attempting to help us throw off older images of what they look like. This was confirmed for me later in a conversation with John Matthews. He said he'd had a recent Sidhe contact in which he was told to stop thinking of them in a medieval context, as if they were knights and ladies and beings of the past. "We are of the present and the future," he was told, and I have received similar messages as well since working on this deck.

The end result of this collaboration, The Card Deck of the Sidhe, is what I believe to be a very powerful tool that allows attunement to a related species of intelligence that shares this world with us and is concerned about earth's future. The deck can also be an oracular portal into a user's own intuition.

Once this project was finished and the deck published, I thought that this contact might end. As I said, it is very different from my usual inner work, and there are others, like John Matthews and the British occultist R.J. Stewart, who have much more experience in collaboration with the Sidhe than I. But in fact the contact has continued in a sporadic way.

I write a quarterly esoteric journal in which I share the field notes of my explorations into and work with the subtle realms. I call it Views from the Borderland, and it's available by subscription on the Lorian Website, www.Lorian.org. In addition to the printed journals, a subscriber also may take part in two online seminars with me in which the topics in the journals can be discussed, questions can be asked, and a group of likeminded seekers can temporarily form an online community for mutual support and conversation.

A year after the publication of the deck, I was working on an issue of the journal when I was contacted again by the same Sidhe trio. The results of that contact formed most of the field notes that went into that issue. When the subsequent online subscribers' forum took place, most of the discussion focused on the Sidhe and their relationship to us at a time of global environmental challenges. Towards the end of the week that we were online together, the Sidhe woman appeared and gave me an exercise that she said they would like people to try. "This is an experiment," she said, "but the intent is very real. We are seeking partners among your people willing to join us as guardians of the portals and pathways between our realm and yours, and between the spirit of Gaia and the physical world. We are seeking collaborators in a mission of fostering wholeness."

At her request, I gave this exercise to all the participants in the online forum. Many took up the offer to try it out, and many interesting, exciting, and inspirational experiences came out of it.

The Card Deck of the Sidhe is divided into two parts. One is a series of images of standing stones that can be arranged to form a stone circle. The other consists of images representing different aspects of the creative energy of the Sidhe (and of humanity as well) that weave in and out around the stones. Because many people in the forum had decks, I had them use them to create the stone circle, but as the exercise says, this isn't necessary, as it can all be done in your imagination.

Here is the exercise as it was given to me to offer to the forum. I offer it to you now, with blessings.

The Guardian Exercise

If you have a Sidhe Card deck, keep it handy, but don't use it to begin with. Its use comes later in the exercise. If you don't have a deck, you can do all the steps perfectly well in your imagination.

You begin by imagining yourself in front of an ancient stone circle, one that is rooted deep in the earth, the stones covered with moss and faint carvings. You can feel an energy radiating from it. Just as if you were going to enter someone's home, identify yourself and ask permission to step into the circle. Wait just a moment in silence, allowing yourself to be seen. The permission is granted.

Step into the circle. As you stand within it, surrounded by the presence of these ancient stones, it feels like you are in a great cauldron held by Gaia, the World Soul. Into this Grail have poured over the centuries energies of consciousness and life brought into this world across the threshold of this circle from sources distant and near: from stars, from the sun and moon, and from the deep fires of life within the heart of the earth. Although the cauldron is empty as you stand in it, you can sense the power of holding within this place. You can feel the Grail in your own heart and life—your own powers of holding—resonating with it. Take a moment just to go deeply into the felt sense of this circle cauldron.

Behind you and around you, felt but unseen, you sense the presence of the Guardians of this circle and of its powers, Guardians of all it contains and all it connects. These are the Sidhe, and they welcome you into this place and their presence. Take a moment to go deeply into the felt sense of their ancient lineage of protecting and caring for the life and presence of circles like this one.

You are now asked, "Will you share this guardianship with us? Will you take on the mantle we have worn? Will you be part of the lineage that guards the thresholds, opens the cauldrons of loving spirit, and releases new life into the world?" Take a moment to feel deeply and fully into what is being asked of you and what you think its implications may be for you personally in your life. How will you stand in this lineage, wear this mantle, and be a living circle/cauldron/Grail in your world? When you feel ready, you can say "yes" or "no."

A "no" will not disconnect you from the Sidhe or cast you out. It is simply a statement that you feel this is not your path or that the timing is not right or that you don't fully understand what a "yes" might mean or bring. A "no" is a statement of your sovereignty and is fully honored and blessed by the Sidhe. If you do say "no," then receive the blessing of the unseen Guardians and step out of the stone circle. You can always reenter at another time that may be more appropriate.

If you have said "no," take a moment to stand in your sovereignty, and then go about your business in your everyday world. The exercise is ended.

If you say "yes," then take a moment of silence standing in the circle among the Guardians, of whom you are now one. Be attentive in a calm way to anything that may occur or pass between the Sidhe and you.

You have always been a power of love and holding in the world and a threshold between the worlds. You have always been a Grail. Taking on the mantle of Guardianship which the Sidhe have offered only adds to what you already are, affirming it, anchoring it, giving it a new flavor and potential. Just what this means is what you will discover in your own unique way.

At this point, the stones in the circle begin to shimmer with light. They dissolve and flow joyously and easily into your heart. Take a moment to feel the presence of the circle shining within your being, your life, your heart. You are the circle, the portal, the cauldron, the Grail. You have always been these things, but now you engage with them in a new way that will unfold in the days and months and years ahead.

If you have the Sidhe Card deck, now is the time to lay out a Stone Circle with one of the cards, the Howe, in the middle. As you do so, see yourself externalizing the power of the circle into your life and world. The Stone Circle has transmigrated from the land to your life. You are a Guardian of its power and presence within your life.

If you do not have this deck, simply imagine standing stones flowing out from your heart to take shape around you. Take a moment to stand in the midst of the circle of your own life and feel what it means to you.

Printed in the Fall 2013 issue of Quest magazine.
Citation: Gardner, Amy. "Parallel Planes" Quest  101. 4 (Fall 2013): pg. 145-147.

By Amy Gardner

Being a new member of the Theosophical Society, I decide to take an introductory crash course in the astral dimension by studying C.W. Leadbeater's1906 lecture "The Reality of the Astral Plane" while waiting for a flight out of Dallas. Conveniently, someone on the Web provides the written transcript of the Leadbeater lecture online, and the Dallas—Fort Worth airport is an ideal field for exploring esoteric concepts..

Sitting in the boarding area for American flight 1507 to Albuquerque, eager to learn more about this real but impermanent dimension, I open my computer to start reading. Certain sentences catch my attention:

You all know from ancient teaching that there is an unseen world—that there is very much existing about us and acting about us all the time.

Committed to keeping my scientific laboratory immediate, I look around the terminal carefully. A woman next to the glass window is on her cell phone, frantically gesticulating. Beyond our glass enclosure distant workmen dig with their great earthmoving equipment to expand this tremendous airline travel port like some dock on an ocean of asphalt. A man practices a speech quietly to himself. I squint my eyes to block out the detail and scan this place for the unseen world. "Certainly each person here is in his or her own world," I think to myself.

Returning to my reading, I feel as though Leadbeater is imploring me to look more carefully:

The astral world is simply nothing but the continuation of the physical world in finer matter.

Along rows of leather and steel chairs, people gather around, most with fast food purchases made in kiosks in the terminal—McDonald's, Uno's Pizza, and Starbucks. An effervescent party is returning home from a weekend wedding in New York. Businesspeople are tapping away on their iPhones. Matter is everywhere, yet I do not see its metaphysical mystery.

While they may be there, no colorful orbs or energy emanations are visible to me. My eyes are blind to energetic distortions or pulsing light patterns. I decide to stretch my legs a bit and walk around to find some insight. The woman selling newspapers and candy in a brightly lit cubby looks tired. The shoe shine man laughs with a buddy about something meant for guys. The janitor leans heavily on his broom, polishing the long hall. Certainly these employees are in a different head space than I am with my research. But we look the same.

I notice how many people sleep here in DFW. Curled on a row of three chairs is a college student. She is probably traveling in the very place I am trying to understand, for Leadbeater tells me: 

Although we are living in the midst of the astral world at this moment, to most of us it is unreal because it is imperceptible. A few hours later we shall fall asleep, and . . . it will be from astral objects alone that we shall be able to receive vibrations.

The woman on the three chairs seems impervious to the metal edges on her imperfect bed, probably because she is flying around someplace remarkable. Maybe this traveler to dreamland will remember the astral plane, and maybe she will convey the experience upon waking. Maybe I should just take a nap and be more aware of my surroundings, for I sense that the nature of the place matters. I secretly wish for a teacher, a spirit of the astral dimension, a Master of Wisdom who can guide me.

As I roll my bag down this hall of learning, billboards and advertisements call out to me. I notice my hunger and thirst for consumables as well as an unnatural interest in leather cowboy chaps and fine jewelry. Having made my living in marketing, I recognize these tricks. Savvy marketers, governments, and corporations make millions by yoking human needs and archetypal longings to products and services. Today's magicians move us to buy false satisfiers to sooth our most profound yearnings. Certainly the desires of humans for love, sex, learning, community, autonomy, contribution, and more are vibrations that advertisers tune into.

Investigation shows us that among these higher vibrations are those caused by the desires and emotions of man, and such of his thoughts as are mingled with personal craving or feeling. It is found that such thoughts or emotions are outpourings of energy just as definite as electricity or steam.

Human needs, when harnessed, are an awesome power that can be directed toward selfish or altruistic aims. Consumer culture could be an illusion that comes from corporate manipulation of the astral plane for personal gain. Maybe this is my lesson in the dark side of the astral plane.

Returning to the gate, I intend to search the lecture again for some gem when my flight is announced. Loading my gear in the steerage section, I sit down and close off the outside world. Crammed into a space engineered for maximum profitability, I am not in the mood to chat with the man pressing upon my arm, so rather than use my mind, I decide to meditate—clear and let the insight come to me.

The captain informs us after the doors close that there is a maintenance problem. Only twenty minutes to wait, says the captain. After twenty minutes, the captain announces that the repair will require another twenty minutes. The tired passengers heave a collective outcry of despair. With closed eyes, I remember Leadbeater's teachings on emotional vibrations:

This astral world affects us because its vibrations have the same qualities as all other kinds of vibrations—they radiate in all directions, and they tend to reproduce themselves.

I feel some responsibility in meditation to practice centering. It cannot hurt anything to radiate a calming presence now.

If by emotion or passion you set up a vibration in astral matter, it acts in precisely the same way; and necessarily in its radiation it impinges upon the astral bodies of all those about you. If there be among them one which is in tune with that vibration, it will at once be excited to respond to it; that is to say, your emotion will be reproduced in that other man.

The passengers seem to calm down, and I get a sense that some sort of entrainment process has occurred with the energy in the cabin. There will be no mutiny tonight.

After a fifty-minute delay, about the limit of my meditative endurance, our plane is ready to depart. I open my eyes, and the man next to me asks gruffly, "Are you a Buddhist? My ex-wife was a Buddhist." The plane shifts and takes off.

My row mate has a long white beard and a fedora.  He has the faint smell of trunk-stored clothing.

"No," I respond quizzically. "I really haven't felt the need to pick a tradition—I kind of like to study them all. How about you?"

The old man replies, "I'm a SCIENTIST, a devout ATHEIST. I'm a WICCAN."

"Wow!" I gasp. Could this be the secret teacher I was wishing for earlier—an incarnation of Leadbeater or Olcott or one of the other bearded guys from Theosophy long ago? I was hoping for a teacher who would help me learn about the astral dimension. Suddenly this strange man appears, and I know (perhaps more than he) that my seatmate is a spirit from the astral plane. How fortuitous is this meeting! "A Wiccan," I repeat. "Do you know anything about the astral plane?"

"Oh, it's just a lot of nonsense about the spirit dimension," he says while I grin.

Coalman proceeds to tell me that he taught astronomy at the University of New Mexico until he found that he could no longer bear the barrage of student interest in astrology. He is now a self-confessed curmudgeon and official grouch. His main reason for disgust with the human race is that despite the overwhelming scientific evidence that global warming is happening, people will not face the gravity of the situation. We talk about new technologies and how people will respond when the crisis becomes personal.

"The crisis affects all of us and we are running out of time!" he vents.

"Yes sir," I agree.

"Humans are irrational!" he mutters grumpily.

"We would rather annihilate the planet than change our thinking," I chime in, sadly mourning the loss of green as the earth warms up.

"We are going the way of Venus," he declares.

"What happened to Venus?" I ask, zipping on over to the dusty orange planet in my imagination.

"Planetary warming!" Coalman bellows. "The planet was very similar to earth, then something happened. It heated up and the water evaporated."

"Where did the water go?" I ask, erroneously thinking 1that our blue planet is a closed system.

"It went into space—vast endless space. Those water atoms are out there in space."`

Suddenly my whole view of the universe changes. ``There in outer space, proven by science, is an entire ocean looking for a place to land. If little drops of blue water live in the endless black void, certainly green forests and colorful extinct species, not to mention all manner of ancestors and astral variants, are there too. Sure, they're hiding in nothingness, but the potential for manifestation is everywhere!

Coalman continues, "We have to deal with the global warming problem."

"Hmm, I have to agree, but haven't we had these floods before? Don't things function in cycles? Won't the ecosystem find a way to balance itself?" Then I talk about Nature's ability to wipe us out and start again: pandemics, antibiotic resistance, and the global food crisis. "And isn't there some intelligence to this universe? I mean, when I sit outside and a cat approaches a covey of quail, they all flush at once, scaring the predator away. Individually they have no ability to survive, but as a group they are intelligent."

"Oh, that's just evolution for survival," explains my sage.

"Well, what about the web of intelligence in an aspen forest, where each tree is really part of one underground root? And the web of intelligence in mushrooms—mycelium webs that cover entire states? And the web of intelligence in oceans, where whales communicate over miles? Certainly this intelligence extends beyond these few examples and into the capability of the planet to raise her temperature like a fever to deal with a global infection." I gasp for breath.

"Yes, James Lovelock's Gaia hypothesis," he muses. "I could believe in that God. But that God has no regard for humanity specifically."

"Probably not," I agree, reflecting on the mysterious universal life creating Reality.

Coalman and I sit back quietly in our seats for some time. Eventually he speaks.

"Changes are happening so fast now. I wish I could live to see what's next."

"How old are you, Coalman?" I ask.

"I'm eighty-three," he says.

The number hangs in the air while the captain tells us to prepare to land. I think about homeostasis, mushroom mats, the lost oceans of Venus, Coalman's unlikely attraction to Wicca and the web of intelligence that has somehow gotten all of us from Dallas to Albuquerque safely. But mostly I think about humans in a state of constant longing—the astral plane that beckons us to connect with the world and, if only temporarily, satisfy desires of the mind, body, and spirit. I watch the wedding party leave, heads bow over cell phones, and bags descend from overhead compartments.

And when Coalman prepares to leave I reach out to shake his hand goodnight. "Keep going," I say.

"You too," he says, holding my hand in a curious way.

While awaiting my bag to make its round on the carousel, I read the last of Leadbeater's essay, which does not have much to do with the astral plane but calms my mind. 

For those of us who are beginning to realize the existence and nature of the great divine scheme of evolution, the privilege of trying in our small way to help it forward is the one purpose of our existence.

Amy Gardner has a passion for exploring world religions, mythologies, and symbols. When she is not building, sculpting, and gardening, Amy makes her living as a writer. She lives with her partner in Corrales, New Mexico.