{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_14599/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_14599","id":"gutenberg_14599","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/14599","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Category: Religion/Spirituality","New Thought","Theosophy"],"text":"The present edition of LIGHT ON THE PATH\nis a verbatim reprint of the 1888 edition\n(George Redway, London) in which later edition\nthe NOTES by the Author first appear. The\nCOMMENTS, which are not in the 1888 edition,\nare here taken directly from _Lucifer_, Volume I,\n1887-8, where they were first published.\n\nAlso in this volume we reprint verbatim the\noriginal edition (1887) of THROUGH THE\nGATES OF GOLD by the same Author, together\nwith a commentary by William Q. Judge taken\nfrom his magazine, _The Path_, March, 1887.\n\n\n\n\n*Light on the Path*\n\n\n_A Treatise_\n\nWRITTEN FOR THE PERSONAL USE OF THOSE WHO\nARE IGNORANT OF THE EASTERN WISDOM, AND\nWHO DESIRE TO ENTER WITHIN ITS INFLUENCE\n\n\n\n_Written down by_ M.C.\n\n_with Notes by the Author_\n\n\n\n\n*LIGHT ON THE PATH*\n\n\nLIGHT ON THE PATH\n\n\nI\n\nThese rules are written for all disciples:\nAttend you to them.\n\nBefore the eyes can see, they must be incapable\nof tears. Before the ear can hear, it\nmust have lost its sensitiveness. Before the\nvoice can speak in the presence of the Masters\nit must have lost the power to wound. Before\nthe soul can stand in the presence of the Masters\nits feet must be washed in the blood of\nthe heart.\n\n1. Kill out ambition.\n\n2. Kill out desire of life.\n\n3. Kill out desire of comfort.\n\n4. Work as those work who are ambitious.\n\nRespect life as those do who desire it. Be\nhappy as those are who live for happiness.\n\nSeek in the heart the source of evil and\nexpunge it. It lives fruitfully in the heart of\nthe devoted disciple as well as in the heart of\nthe man of desire. Only the strong can kill it\nout. The weak must wait for its growth, its\nfruition, its death. And it is a plant that lives\nand increases throughout the ages. It flowers\nwhen the man has accumulated unto himself\ninnumerable existences. He who will enter\nupon the path of power must tear this thing\nout of his heart. And then the heart will bleed,\nand the whole life of the man seem to be utterly\ndissolved. This ordeal must be endured:\nit may come at the first step of the perilous\nladder which leads to the path of life: it may\nnot come until the last. But, O disciple, remember\nthat it has to be endured, and fasten\nthe energies of your soul upon the task. Live\nneither in the present nor the future, but in\nthe eternal. This giant weed cannot flower\nthere: this blot upon existence is wiped out by\nthe very atmosphere of eternal thought.\n\n5. Kill out all sense of separateness.\n\n6. Kill out desire for sensation.\n\n7. Kill out the hunger for growth.\n\n8. Yet stand alone and isolated, because\nnothing that is imbodied, nothing that is conscious\nof separation, nothing that is out of the\neternal, can aid you.  Learn from sensation and\nobserve it, because only so can you commence\nthe science of self-knowledge, and plant your\nfoot on the first step of the ladder. Grow as\nthe flower grows, unconsciously, but eagerly\nanxious to open its soul to the air. So must you\npress forward to open your soul to the eternal.\nBut it must be the eternal that draws forth your\nstrength and beauty, not desire of growth. For\nin the one case you develop in the luxuriance of\npurity, in the other you harden by the forcible\npassion for personal stature.\n\n9. Desire only that which is within you.\n\n10. Desire only that which is beyond you.\n\n11. Desire only that which is unattainable.\n\n12. For within you is the light of the world--the\nonly light that can be shed upon the\nPath. If you are unable to perceive it within\nyou, it is useless to look for it elsewhere. It is\nbeyond you; because when you reach it you\nhave lost yourself. It is unattainable, because it\nfor ever recedes. You will enter the light, but\nyou will never touch the flame.\n\n13. Desire power ardently.\n\n14. Desire peace fervently.\n\n15. Desire possessions above all.\n\n16. But those possessions must belong to\nthe pure soul only, and be possessed therefore\nby all pure souls equally, and thus be the\nespecial property of the whole only when\nunited. Hunger for such possessions as can be\nheld by the pure soul; that you may accumulate\nwealth for that united spirit of life, which is\nyour only true self. The peace you shall desire\nis that sacred peace which nothing can disturb,\nand in which the soul grows as does the holy\nflower upon the still lagoons. And that power\nwhich the disciple shall covet is that which\nshall make him appear as nothing in the eyes\nof men.\n\n 17. Seek out the way.\n\n 18. Seek the way by retreating within.\n\n 19. Seek the way by advancing boldly without.\n\n 20. Seek it not by any one road. To each\ntemperament there is one road which seems the\nmost desirable. But the way is not found by devotion\nalone, by religious contemplation alone,\nby ardent progress, by self-sacrificing labor, by\nstudious observation of life. None alone can\ntake the disciple more than one step onward.\nAll steps are necessary to make up the ladder.\nThe vices of men become steps in the ladder,\none by one, as they are surmounted. The virtues\nof man are steps indeed, necessary--not\nby any means to be dispensed with. Yet,\nthough they create a fair atmosphere and a\nhappy future, they are useless if they stand\nalone. The whole nature of man must be used\nwisely by the one who desires to enter the way.\nEach man is to himself absolutely the way, the\ntruth, and the life. But he is only so when he\ngrasps his whole individuality firmly, and, by\nthe force of his awakened spiritual will, recognises\nthis individuality as not himself, but that\nthing which he has with pain created for his\nown use, and by means of which he purposes,\nas his growth slowly develops his intelligence,\nto reach to the life beyond individuality. When\nhe knows that for this his wonderful complex\nseparated life exists, then, indeed, and then\nonly, he is upon the way. Seek it by plunging\ninto the mysterious and glorious depths of your\nown inmost being. Seek it by testing, all experience,\nby utilizing the senses in order to\nunderstand the growth and meaning of individuality,\nand the beauty and obscurity of those\nother divine fragments which are struggling\nside by side with you, and form the race to\nwhich you belong. Seek it by study of the laws\nof being, the laws of nature, the laws of the\nsupernatural: and seek it by making the profound\nobeisance of the soul to the dim star that\nburns within. Steadily, as you watch and worship,\nits light will grow stronger. Then you\nmay know you have found the beginning of\nthe way. And when you have found the end its\nlight will suddenly become the infinite light.\n\n21. Look for the flower to bloom in the\nsilence that follows the storm not till then.\n\nIt shall grow, it will shoot up, it will make\nbranches and leaves and form buds, while the\nstorm continues, while the battle lasts. But\nnot till the whole personality of the man is dissolved\nand melted--not until it is held by the\ndivine fragment which has created it, as a mere\nsubject for grave experiment and experience--not\nuntil the whole nature has yielded and\nbecome subject unto its higher self, can the\nbloom open. Then will come a calm such as\ncomes in a tropical country after the heavy rain,\nwhen Nature works so swiftly that one may see\nher action. Such a calm will come to the harassed\nspirit. And in the deep silence the mysterious\nevent will occur which will prove that\nthe way has been found. Call it by what name\nyou will, it is a voice that speaks where there\nis none to speak--it is a messenger that comes,\na messenger without form or substance; or it is\nthe flower of the soul that has opened. It cannot\nbe described by any metaphor. But it can\nbe felt after, looked for, and desired, even\namid the raging of the storm. The silence may\nlast a moment of time or it may last a thousand\nyears. But it will end. Yet you will carry its\nstrength with you. Again and again the battle\nmust be fought and won. It is only for an interval\nthat Nature can be still.\n\nThese written above are the first of the\nrules which are written on the walls of the\nHall of Learning. Those that ask shall have.\nThose that desire to read shall read. Those who\ndesire to learn shall learn.\n\nPEACE BE WITH YOU.\n\n\n\n\nII\n\n\nOut of the silence that is peace a resonant\nvoice shall arise. And this voice will say, It is\nnot well; thou hast reaped, now thou must sow.\nAnd knowing this voice to be the silence itself\nthou wilt obey.\n\nThou who art now a disciple, able to stand,\nable to hear, able to see, able to speak, who\nhast conquered desire and attained to self-knowledge,\nwho hast seen thy soul in its bloom\nand recognised it, and heard the voice of the\nsilence, go thou to the Hall of Learning and\nread what is written there for thee.\n\n 1. Stand aside in the coming battle, and\nthough thou fightest be not thou the warrior.\n\n 2. Look for the warrior and let him fight in\nthee.\n\n 3. Take his orders for battle and obey\nthem.\n\n 4. Obey him not as though he were a general,\nbut as though he were thyself, and his\nspoken words were the utterance of thy secret\ndesires; for he is thyself, yet infinitely wiser\nand stronger than thyself. Look for him, else\nin the fever and hurry of the fight thou mayest\npass him; and he will not know thee unless\nthou knowest him. If thy cry meet his listening\near, then will he fight in thee and fill the\ndull void within. And if this is so, then canst\nthou go through the fight cool and unwearied,\nstanding aside and letting him battle for thee.\nThen it will be impossible for thee to strike\none blow amiss. But if thou look not for him,\nif thou pass him by, then there is no safeguard\nfor thee. Thy brain will reel, thy heart grow\nuncertain, and in the dust of the battlefield thy\nsight and senses will fail, and thou wilt not\nknow thy friends from thy enemies.\n\nHe is thyself, yet thou art but finite and\nliable to error. He is eternal and is sure. He\nis eternal truth. When once he has entered\nthee and become thy warrior, he will never utterly\ndesert thee, and at the day of the great\npeace he will become one with thee.\n\n5. Listen to the song of life.\n\n6. Store in your memory the melody you\nhear.\n\n7. Learn from it the lesson of harmony.\n\n8. You can stand upright now, firm as a\nrock amid the turmoil, obeying the warrior\nwho is thyself and thy king. Unconcerned in\nthe battle save to do his bidding, having no\nlonger any care as to the result of the battle, for\none thing only is important, that the warrior\nshall win, and you know he is incapable of defeat--standing\nthus, cool and awakened, use\nthe hearing you have acquired by pain and by\nthe destruction of pain. Only fragments of\nthe great song come to your ears while yet you\nare but man. But if you listen to it, remember\nit faithfully, so that none which has reached\nyou is lost, and endeavor to learn from it the\nmeaning of the mystery which surrounds you.\nIn time you will need no teacher. For as the\nindividual has voice, so has that in which the\nindividual exists. Life itself has speech and is\nnever silent. And its utterance is not, as you\nthat are deaf may suppose, a cry: it is a song.\nLearn from it that you are part of the harmony;\nlearn from it to obey the laws of the\nharmony.\n\n9. Regard earnestly all the life that surrounds\nyou.\n\n10. Learn to look intelligently into the\nhearts of men.\n\n11. Regard most earnestly your own heart.\n\n12. For through your own heart comes the\none light which can illuminate life and make it\nclear to your eyes.\n\nStudy the hearts of men, that you may know\nwhat is that world in which you live and of\nwhich you will to be a part. Regard the constantly\nchanging and moving life which surrounds\nyou, for it is formed by the hearts of\nmen; and as you learn to understand their\nconstitution and meaning, you will by degrees\nbe able to read the larger word of life.\n\n13.  Speech comes only with knowledge. Attain\nto knowledge and you will attain to\nspeech.\n\n14.  Having obtained the use of the inner\nsenses, having conquered the desires of the\nouter senses, having conquered the desires of\nthe individual soul, and having obtained knowledge,\nprepare now, O disciple, to enter upon\nthe way in reality. The path is found: make\nyourself ready to tread it.\n\n15. Inquire of the earth, the air, and the\nwater, of the secrets they hold for you. The\ndevelopment of your inner senses will enable\nyou to do this.\n\n16. Inquire of the holy ones of the earth\nof the secrets they hold for you. The conquering\nof the desires of the outer senses will\ngive you the right to do this.\n\n17. Inquire of the inmost, the one, of its\nfinal secret which it holds for you through\nthe ages.\n\nThe great and difficult victory, the conquering\nof the desires of the individual soul, is a\nwork of ages; therefore expect not to obtain\nits reward until ages of experience have been\naccumulated. When the time of learning this\nseventeenth rule is reached, man is on the\nthreshold of becoming more than man.\n\n18. The knowledge which is now yours is\nonly yours because your soul has become one\nwith all pure souls and with the inmost. It is\na trust vested in you by the Most High. Betray\nit, misuse your knowledge, or neglect it, and\nit is possible even now for you to fall from\nthe high estate you have attained. Great ones\nfall back, even from the threshold, unable to\nsustain the weight of their responsibility, unable\nto pass on. Therefore look forward always\nwith awe and trembling to this moment, and\nbe prepared for the battle.\n\n19. It is written that for him who is on the\nthreshold of divinity no law can be framed, no\nguide can exist. Yet to enlighten the disciple,\nthe final struggle may be thus expressed:\n\nHold fast to that which has neither substance\nnor existence.\n\n20. Listen only to the voice which is soundless.\n\n21. Look only on that which is invisible\nalike to the inner and the outer sense.\n\nPEACE BE WITH YOU.\n\n\n\n\n\nNOTES\n\n\n_Note on Rule 1._--Ambition is the first\ncurse: the great tempter of the man who is\nrising above his fellows. It is the simplest\nform of looking for reward. Men of intelligence\nand power are led away from their\nhigher possibilities by it continually. Yet it is\na necessary teacher. Its results turn to dust\nand ashes in the mouth; like death and\nestrangement it shows the man at last that to\nwork for self is to work for disappointment.\nBut though this first rule seems so simple and\neasy, do not quickly pass it by. For these\nvices of the ordinary man pass through a subtle\ntransformation and reappear with changed\naspect in the heart of the disciple. It is easy\nto say, I will not be ambitious: it is not so\neasy to say, when the Master reads my heart\nhe will find it clean utterly. The pure artist\nwho works for the love of his work is sometimes\nmore firmly planted on the right road\nthan the occultist, who fancies he has removed\nhis interest from self, but who has in reality\nonly enlarged the limits of experience and\ndesire, and transferred his interest to the things\nwhich concern his larger span of life. The\nsame principle applies to the other two seemingly\nsimple rules. Linger over them and do\nnot let yourself be easily deceived by your own\nheart. For now, at the threshold, a mistake\ncan be corrected. But carry it on with you\nand it will grow and come to fruition, or else\nyou must suffer bitterly in its destruction.\n\n\n_Note on Rule 5_.--Do not fancy you can\nstand aside from the bad man or the foolish\nman. They are yourself, though in a less\ndegree than your friend or your master. But\nif you allow the idea of separateness from any\nevil thing or person to grow up within you,\nby so doing you create Karma, which will\nbind you to that thing or person till your soul\nrecognises that it cannot be isolated. Remember\nthat the sin and shame of the world are\nyour sin and shame; for you are a part of it;\nyour Karma is inextricably interwoven with\nthe great Karma. And before you can attain\nknowledge you must have passed through all\nplaces, foul and clean alike. Therefore, remember\nthat the soiled garment you shrink\nfrom touching may have been yours yesterday,\nmay be yours tomorrow. And if you turn\nwith horror from it, when it is flung upon\nyour shoulders, it will cling the more closely\nto you. The self-righteous man makes for\nhimself a bed of mire. Abstain because it is\nright to abstain--not that yourself shall be\nkept clean.\n\n_Note on Rule 17._--These four words\nseem, perhaps, too slight to stand alone. The\ndisciple may say, Should I study these thoughts\nat all did I not seek out the way? Yet do\nnot pass on hastily. Pause and consider awhile.\nIs it the way you desire, or is it that there\nis a dim perspective in your visions of great\nheights to be scaled by yourself, of a great\nfuture for you to compass? Be warned. The\nway is to be sought for its own sake, not with\nregard to your feet that shall tread it.\n\nThere is a correspondence between this rule\nand the 17th of the 2nd series. When after\nages of struggle and many victories the final\nbattle is won, the final secret demanded, then\nyou are prepared for a further path. When\nthe final secret of this great lesson is told, in\nit is opened the mystery of the new way--a\npath which leads out of all human experience,\nand which is utterly beyond human perception\nor imagination. At each of these points\nit is needful to pause long and consider well.\nAt each of these points it is necessary to be\nsure that the way is chosen for its own sake.\nThe way and the truth come first, then follows\nthe life.\n\n_Note on Rule 20_.--Seek it by testing all\nexperience, and remember that when I say this\nI do not say, Yield to the seductions of sense\nin order to know it. Before you have become\nan occultist you may do this; but not afterwards.\nWhen you have chosen and entered\nthe path you cannot yield to these seductions\nwithout shame. Yet you can experience them\nwithout horror: can weigh, observe and test\nthem, and wait with the patience of confidence\nfor the hour when they shall affect you no\nlonger. But do not condemn the man that\nyields; stretch out your hand to him as a\nbrother pilgrim whose feet have become heavy\nwith mire. Remember, O disciple, that great\nthough the gulf may be between the good man\nand the sinner, it is greater between the good\nman and the man who has attained knowledge;\nit is immeasurable between the good man and\nthe one on the threshold of divinity. Therefore\nbe wary lest too soon you fancy yourself\na thing apart from the mass. When you have\nfound the beginning of the way the star of\nyour soul will show its light; and by that light\nyou will perceive how great is the darkness\nin which it burns. Mind, heart, brain, all are\nobscure and dark until the first great battle\nhas been won. Be not appalled and terrified\nby this sight; keep your eyes fixed on the small\nlight and it will grow. But let the darkness\nwithin help you to understand the helplessness\nof those who have seen no light, whose souls\nare in profound gloom. Blame them not, shrink\nnot from them, but try to lift a little of the\nheavy Karma of the world; give your aid to\nthe few strong hands that hold back the\npowers of darkness from obtaining complete\nvictory. Then do you enter into a partnership\nof joy, which brings indeed terrible toil and\nprofound sadness, but also a great and ever-increasing\ndelight.\n\n_Note on Rule 21._--The opening of the\nbloom is the glorious moment when perception\nawakes: with it comes confidence, knowledge,\ncertainty. The pause of the soul is the moment\nof wonder, and the next moment of satisfaction,\nthat is the silence.\n\nKnow, O disciple, that those who have\npassed through the silence, and felt its peace\nand retained its strength, they long that you\nshall pass through it also. Therefore, in the\nHall of Learning, when he is capable of entering\nthere, the disciple will always find his\nmaster.\n\nThose that ask shall have. But though the\nordinary man asks perpetually, his voice is not\nheard. For he asks with his mind only; and\nthe voice of the mind is only heard on that\nplane on which the mind acts. Therefore, not\nuntil the first twenty-one rules are past do I\nsay those that ask shall have.\n\nTo read, in the occult sense, is to read with\nthe eyes of the spirit. To ask is to feel the\nhunger within--the yearning of spiritual\naspiration. To be able to read means having\nobtained the power in a small degree of gratifying\nthat hunger. When the disciple is ready\nto learn, then he is accepted, acknowledged,\nrecognised. It must be so, for he has lit his\nlamp, and it cannot be hidden. But to learn\nis impossible until the first great battle has\nbeen won. The mind may recognise truth, but\nthe spirit cannot receive it. Once having passed\nthrough the storm and attained the peace, it is\nthen always possible to learn, even though the\ndisciple waver, hesitate, and turn aside. The\nvoice of the silence remains within him, and\nthough he leave the path utterly, yet one day\nit will resound and rend him asunder and\nseparate his passions from his divine possibilities.\nThen with pain and desperate cries\nfrom the deserted lower self he will return.\n\nTherefore I say, Peace be with you. My\npeace I give unto you can only be said by the\nMaster to the beloved disciples who are as\nhimself. There are even some amongst those\nwho are ignorant of the Eastern wisdom to\nwhom this can be said, and to whom it can\ndaily be said with more completeness.\n\nRegard the three truths. They are equal.\n\n\n\n\n\nPART II\n\n\n_Note on Sect. II_--To be able to stand is\nto have confidence; to be able to hear is to\nhave opened the doors of the soul; to be able\nto see is to have attained perception; to be\nable to speak is to have attained the power\nof helping others; to have conquered desire\nis to have learned how to use and control the\nself; to have attained to self-knowledge is to\nhave retreated to the inner fortress from\nwhence the personal man can be viewed with\nimpartiality; to have seen thy soul in its bloom\nis to have obtained a momentary glimpse in\nthyself of the transfiguration which shall eventually\nmake thee more than man; to recognise\nis to achieve the great task of gazing upon the\nblazing light without dropping the eyes and\nnot falling back in terror, as though before\nsome ghastly phantom. This happens to some,\nand so when the victory is all but won it is lost;\nto hear the voice of the silence is to understand\nthat from within comes the only true\nguidance; to go to the Hall of Learning is to\nenter the state in which learning becomes possible.\nThen will many words be written there\nfor thee, and written in fiery letters for thee\neasily to read. For when the disciple is ready\nthe Master is ready also.\n\n\n_Note on Rule 5_.--Look for it and listen to\nit first in your own heart. At first you may\nsay it is not there; when I search I find only\ndiscord. Look deeper. If again you are disappointed,\npause and look deeper again. There\nis a natural melody, an obscure fount in every\nhuman heart. It may be hidden over and utterly\nconcealed and silenced--but it is there.\nAt the very base of your nature you will find\nfaith, hope, and love. He that chooses evil\nrefuses to look within himself, shuts his ears to\nthe melody of his heart, as he blinds his eyes\nto the light of his soul. He does this because\nhe finds it easier to live in desires. But underneath\nall life is the strong current that cannot\nbe checked; the great waters are there in reality.\nFind them, and you will perceive that none,\nnot the most wretched of creatures, but is a\npart of it, however he blind himself to the\nfact and build up for himself a phantasmal\nouter form of horror. In that sense it is that I\nsay to you--All those beings among whom\nyou struggle on are fragments of the Divine.\nAnd so deceptive is the illusion in which you\nlive, that it is hard to guess where you will first\ndetect the sweet voice in the hearts of others.\n\nBut know that it is certainly within yourself.\nLook for it there, and once having heard it, you\nwill more readily recognise it around you.\n\n_Note on Rule 10._--From an absolutely impersonal\npoint of view, otherwise your sight is\ncolored. Therefore impersonality must first be\nunderstood.\n\nIntelligence is impartial: no man is your\nenemy: no man is your friend. All alike are\nyour teachers. Your enemy becomes a mystery\nthat must be solved, even though it take ages:\nfor man must be understood. Your friend becomes\na part of yourself, an extension of yourself,\na riddle hard to read. Only one thing is\nmore difficult to know--your own heart. Not\nuntil the bonds of personality are loosed, can\nthat profound mystery of self begin to be seen.\nNot till you stand aside from it will it in any\nway reveal itself to your understanding. Then,\nand not till then, can you grasp and guide it.\nThen, and not till then, can you use all its\npowers, and devote them to a worthy service.\n\n_Note on Rule 13._--It is impossible to help\nothers till you have obtained some certainty\nof your own. When you have learned the first\n21 rules and have entered the Hall of Learning\nwith your powers developed and sense unchained,\nthen you will find there is a fount\nwithin you from which speech will arise.\n\nAfter the 13th rule I can add no words to\nwhat is already written.\n\nMy peace I give unto you. [Greek: D]\n\nThese notes are written only for those to\nwhom I give my peace; those who can read\nwhat I have written with the inner as well as\nthe outer sense.\n\n\n\n\nCOMMENTS\n\nI\n\n\n\"BEFORE THE EYES CAN SEE THEY MUST BE\nINCAPABLE OF TEARS.\"\n\n\nIt should be very clearly remembered by\nall readers of this volume that it is a book\nwhich may appear to have some little philosophy\nin it, but very little sense, to those who\nbelieve it to be written in ordinary English.\nTo the many, who read in this manner it will\nbe--not caviare so much as olives strong of\ntheir salt. Be warned and read but a little in\nthis way.\n\nThere is another way of reading, which is,\nindeed, the only one of any use with many\nauthors. It is reading, not between the lines\nbut within the words. In fact, it is deciphering\na profound cipher. All alchemical works\nare written in the cipher of which I speak;\nit has been used by the great philosophers and\npoets of all time. It is used systematically by\nthe adepts in life and knowledge, who, seemingly\ngiving out their deepest wisdom, hide in\nthe very words which frame it its actual mystery.\nThey cannot do more. There is a law of\nnature which insists that a man shall read these\nmysteries for himself. By no other method can\nhe obtain them. A man who desires to live\nmust eat his food himself: this is the simple law\nof nature--which applies also to the higher\nlife. A man who would live and act in it cannot\nbe fed like a babe with a spoon; he must\neat for himself.\n\nI propose to put into new and sometimes\nplainer language parts of \"Light on the Path\";\nbut whether this effort of mine will really be\nany interpretation I cannot say. To a deaf\nand dumb man, a truth is made no more intelligible\nif, in order to make it so, some misguided\nlinguist translates the words in which\nit is couched into every living or dead language,\nand shouts these different phrases in his ear.\nBut for those who are not deaf and dumb one\nlanguage is generally easier than the rest; and\nit is to such as these I address myself.\n\nThe very first aphorisms of \"Light on the\nPath,\" included under Number I, have, I know\nwell, remained sealed as to their inner meaning\nto many who have otherwise followed the purpose\nof the book.\n\nThere are four proven and certain truths\nwith regard to the entrance to occultism. The\nGates of Gold bar that threshold; yet there are\nsome who pass those gates and discover the\nsublime and illimitable beyond. In the far\nspaces of Time all will pass those gates. But\nI am one who wish that Time, the great deluder,\nwere not so over-masterful. To those\nwho know and love him I have no word to\nsay; but to the others--and there are not so\nvery few as some may fancy--to whom the\npassage of Time is as the stroke of a sledge-hammer,\nand the sense of Space like the bars\nof an iron cage, I will translate and re-translate\nuntil they understand fully.\n\nThe four truths written on the first page\nof \"Light on the Path,\" refer to the trial initiation\nof the would-be occultist. Until he has\npassed it, he cannot even reach to the latch of\nthe gate which admits to knowledge. Knowledge\nis man's greatest inheritance; why, then,\nshould he not attempt to reach it by every\npossible road? The laboratory is not the only\nground for experiment; _science_, we must remember,\nis derived from _sciens_, present participle\nof _scire_, \"to know,\"--its origin is similar\nto that of the word \"discern,\" to \"ken.\"\nScience does not therefore deal only with\nmatter, no, not even its subtlest and obscurest\nforms. Such an idea is born merely of the idle\nspirit of the age. Science is a word which\ncovers all forms of knowledge. It is exceedingly\ninteresting to hear what chemists discover,\nand to see them finding their way through the\ndensities of matter to its finer forms; but there\nare other kinds of knowledge than this, and it\nis not every one who restricts his (strictly scientific)\ndesire for knowledge to experiments\nwhich are capable of being tested by the physical\nsenses.\n\nEveryone who is not a dullard, or a man\nstupefied by some predominant vice, has\nguessed or even perhaps discovered with some\ncertainty, that there are subtle senses lying\nwithin the physical senses. There is nothing at\nall extraordinary in this; if we took the trouble\nto call Nature into the witness box we should\nfind that everything which is perceptible to the\nordinary sight, has something even more important\nthan itself hidden within it; the microscope\nhas opened a world to us, but within\nthose encasements which the microscope reveals,\nlies a mystery which no machinery can\nprobe.\n\nThe whole world is animated and lit, down\nto its most material shapes, by a world within\nit. This inner world is called Astral by some\npeople, and it is as good a word as any other,\nthough it merely means starry; but the stars, as\nLocke pointed out, are luminous bodies which\ngive light of themselves. This quality is characteristic\nof the life which lies within matter;\nfor those who see it, need no lamp to see it by.\nThe word star, moreover, is derived from the\nAnglo-Saxon \"stir-an,\" to steer, to stir, to move,\nand undeniably it is the inner life which is\nmaster of the outer, just as a man's brain\nguides the movements of his lips. So that although\nAstral is no very excellent word in\nitself, I am content to use it for my present\npurpose.\n\nThe whole of \"Light on the Path\" is written\nin an astral cipher and can therefore only be\ndeciphered by one who reads astrally. And\nits teaching is chiefly directed towards the cultivation\nand development of the astral life.\nUntil the first step has been taken in this development,\nthe swift knowledge, which is called\nintuition with certainty, is impossible to man.\nAnd this positive and certain intuition is the\nonly form of knowledge which enables a man\nto work rapidly or reach his true and high\nestate, within the limit of his conscious effort.\nTo obtain knowledge by experiment is too\ntedious a method for those who aspire to accomplish\nreal work; he who gets it by certain\nintuition, lays hands on its various forms with\nsupreme rapidity, by fierce effort of will; as a\ndetermined workman grasps his tools, indifferent\nto their weight or any other difficulty\nwhich may stand in his way. He does not stay\nfor each to be tested--he uses such as he sees\nare fittest.\n\nAll the rules contained in \"Light on the\nPath,\" are written for all disciples, but only\nfor disciples---those who \"take knowledge.\"\nTo none else but the student in this school are\nits laws of any use or interest.\n\nTo all who are interested seriously in Occultism,\nI say first--take knowledge. To him\nwho hath shall be given. It is useless to wait for\nit. The womb of Time will close before you,\nand in later days you will remain unborn, without\npower. I therefore say to those who have\nany hunger or thirst for knowledge, attend to\nthese rules.\n\nThey are none of my handicraft or invention.\nThey are merely the phrasing of laws in\nsuper-nature, the putting into words truths as\nabsolute in their own sphere, as those laws\nwhich govern the conduct of the earth and its\natmosphere.\n\nThe senses spoken of in these four statements\nare the astral, or inner senses.\n\nNo man desires to see that light which\nillumines the spaceless soul until pain and sorrow\nand despair have driven him away from\nthe life of ordinary humanity. First he wears\nout pleasure; then he wears out pain--till, at\nlast, his eyes become incapable of tears.\n\nThis is a truism, although I know perfectly\nwell that it will meet with a vehement denial\nfrom many who are in sympathy with thoughts\nwhich spring from the inner life. _To see_ with\nthe astral sense of sight is a form of activity\nwhich it is difficult for us to understand immediately.\nThe scientist knows very well what a\nmiracle is achieved by each child that is born\ninto the world, when it first conquers its eyesight\nand compels it to obey its brain. An equal\nmiracle is performed with each sense certainly,\nbut this ordering of sight is perhaps the most\nstupendous effort. Yet the child does it almost\nunconsciously, by force of the powerful heredity\nof habit. No one now is aware that he\nhas ever done it at all; just as we cannot recollect\nthe individual movements which enabled\nus to walk up a hill a year ago. This arises\nfrom the fact that we move and live and have\nour being in matter. Our knowledge of it has\nbecome intuitive.\n\nWith our astral life it is very much otherwise.\nFor long ages past, man has paid very\nlittle attention to it--so little, that he has\npractically lost the use of his senses. It is true,\nthat in every civilization the star arises, and\nman confesses, with more or less of folly and\nconfusion, that he knows himself to be. But\nmost often he denies it, and in being a materialist\nbecomes that strange thing, a being\nwhich cannot see its own light, a thing of life\nwhich will not live, an astral animal which has\neyes, and ears, and speech, and power, yet\nwill use none of these gifts. This is the case,\nand the habit of ignorance has become so confirmed,\nthat now none will see with the inner\nvision till agony has made the physical eyes not\nonly unseeing, but without tears--the moisture\nof life. To be incapable of tears is to have\nfaced and conquered the simple human nature,\nand to have attained an equilibrium which cannot\nbe shaken by personal emotions. It does\nnot imply any hardness of heart, or any indifference.\nIt does not imply the exhaustion of\nsorrow, when the suffering soul seems powerless\nto suffer acutely any longer; it does not\nmean the deadness of old age, when emotion is\nbecoming dull because the strings which vibrate\nto it are wearing out. None of these conditions\nare fit for a disciple, and if any one of\nthem exist in him it must be overcome before\nthe path can be entered upon. Hardness of\nheart belongs to the selfish man, the egotist, to\nwhom the gate is forever closed. Indifference\nbelongs to the fool and the false philosopher;\nthose whose lukewarmness makes them mere\npuppets, not strong enough to face the realities\nof existence. When pain or sorrow has worn\nout the keenness of suffering, the result is a\nlethargy not unlike that which accompanies old\nage, as it is usually experienced by men and\nwomen. Such a condition makes the entrance\nto the path impossible, because the first step is\none of difficulty and needs a strong man, full\nof psychic and physical vigor, to attempt it.\n\nIt is a truth, that, as Edgar Allan Poe said,\nthe eyes are the windows for the soul, the windows\nof that haunted palace in which it dwells.\nThis is the very nearest interpretation into ordinary\nlanguage of the meaning of the text. If\ngrief, dismay, disappointment or pleasure, can\nshake the soul so that it loses its fixed hold on\nthe calm spirit which inspires it, and the moisture\nof life breaks forth, drowning knowledge\nin sensation, then all is blurred, the windows\nare darkened, the light is useless. This is as\nliteral a fact as that if a man, at the edge of a\nprecipice, loses his nerve through some sudden\nemotion he will certainly fall. The poise of the\nbody, the balance, must be preserved, not only\nin dangerous places, but even on the level\nground, and with all the assistance Nature\ngives us by the law of gravitation. So it is with\nthe soul, it is the link between the outer body\nand the starry spirit beyond; the divine spark\ndwells in the still place where no convulsion of\nNature can shake the air; this is so always. But\nthe soul may lose its hold on that, its knowledge\nof it, even though these two are part\nof one whole; and it is by emotion, by\nsensation, that this hold is loosed. To suffer\neither pleasure or pain, causes a vivid vibration\nwhich is, to the consciousness of man,\nlife. Now this sensibility does not lessen when\nthe disciple enters upon his training; it\nincreases. It is the first test of his strength;\nhe must suffer, must enjoy or endure, more\nkeenly than other men, while yet he has taken\non him a duty which does not exist for other\nmen, that of not allowing his suffering to shake\nhim from his fixed purpose. He has, in fact,\nat the first step to take himself steadily in\nhand and put the bit into his own mouth;\nno one else can do it for him.\n\nThe first four aphorisms of \"Light on the\nPath,\" refer entirely to astral development.\nThis development must be accomplished to a\ncertain extent--that is to say it must be fully\nentered upon--before the remainder of the\nbook is really intelligible except to the intellect;\nin fact, before it can be read as a practical,\nnot a metaphysical treatise.\n\nIn one of the great mystic Brotherhoods,\nthere are four ceremonies, that take place early\nin the year, which practically illustrate and\nelucidate these aphorisms. They are ceremonies\nin which only novices take part, for they\nare simply services of the threshold. But it\nwill show how serious a thing it is to become\na disciple, when it is understood that these\nare all ceremonies of sacrifice. The first one\nis this of which I have been speaking. The\nkeenest enjoyment, the bitterest pain, the\nanguish of loss and despair, are brought to\nbear on the trembling soul, which has not yet\nfound light in the darkness, which is helpless\nas a blind man is, and until these shocks can\nbe endured without loss of equilibrium the\nastral senses must remain sealed. This is the\nmerciful law. The \"medium,\" or \"spiritualist,\"\nwho rushes into the psychic world without\npreparation, is a law-breaker, a breaker of\nthe laws of super-nature. Those who break\nNature's laws lose their physical health; those\nwho break the laws of the inner life, lose their\npsychic health. \"Mediums\" become mad, suicides,\nmiserable creatures devoid of moral\nsense; and often end as unbelievers, doubters\neven of that which their own eyes have seen.\nThe disciple is compelled to become his own\nmaster before he adventures on this perilous\npath, and attempts to face those beings who\nlive and work in the astral world, and whom\nwe call masters, because of their great knowledge\nand their ability to control not only\nthemselves but the forces around them.\n\nThe condition of the soul when it lives for\nthe life of sensation as distinguished from that\nof knowledge, is vibratory or oscillating, as\ndistinguished from fixed. That is the nearest\nliteral representation of the fact; but it is only\nliteral to the intellect, not to the intuition.\nFor this part of man's consciousness a different\nvocabulary is needed. The idea of \"fixed\"\nmight perhaps be transposed into that of \"at\nhome.\" In sensation no permanent home can\nbe found, because change is the law of this\nvibratory existence. That fact is the first one\nwhich must be learned by the disciple. It is\nuseless to pause and weep for a scene in a\nkaleidoscope which has passed.\n\nIt is a very well-known fact, one with which\nBulwer Lytton dealt with great power, that\nan intolerable sadness is the very first experience\nof the neophyte in Occultism. A sense of\nblankness falls upon him which makes the\nworld a waste, and life a vain exertion. This\nfollows his first serious contemplation of the\nabstract. In gazing, or even in attempting to\ngaze, on the ineffable mystery of his own higher\nnature, he himself causes the initial trial to\nfall on him. The oscillation between pleasure\nand pain ceases for--perhaps an instant of\ntime; but that is enough to have cut him loose\nfrom his fast moorings in the world of sensation.\nHe has experienced, however briefly, the\ngreater life; and he goes on with ordinary\nexistence weighted by a sense of unreality, of\nblank, of horrid negation. This was the nightmare\nwhich visited Bulwer Lytton's neophyte\nin \"Zanoni\"; and even Zanoni himself, who\nhad learned great truths, and been entrusted\nwith great powers, had not actually passed the\nthreshold where fear and hope, despair and\njoy seem at one moment absolute realities, at\nthe next mere forms of fancy.\n\nThis initial trial is often brought on us by\nlife itself. For life is after all, the great\nteacher. We return to study it, after we have\nacquired power over it, just as the master in\nchemistry learns more in the laboratory than\nhis pupil does. There are persons so near the\ndoor of knowledge that life itself prepares\nthem for it, and no individual hand has to\ninvoke the hideous guardian of the entrance.\nThese must naturally be keen and powerful\norganizations, capable of the most vivid pleasure;\nthen pain comes and fills its great duty.\nThe most intense forms of suffering fall on\nsuch a nature, till at last it arouses from its\nstupor of consciousness, and by the force of its\ninternal vitality steps over the threshold into a\nplace of peace. Then the vibration of life loses\nits power of tyranny. The sensitive nature\nmust suffer still; but the soul has freed itself\nand stands aloof, guiding the life towards its\ngreatness. Those who are the subjects of Time,\nand go slowly through all his spaces, live on\nthrough a long drawn series of sensations, and\nsuffer a constant mingling of pleasure and of\npain. They do not dare to take the snake of\nself in a steady grasp and conquer it, so becoming\ndivine; but prefer to go on fretting through\ndivers experiences, suffering blows from the\nopposing forces.\n\nWhen one of these subjects of Time decides\nto enter on the path of Occultism, it is this\nwhich is his first task. If life has not taught\nit to him, if he is not strong enough to teach\nhimself and if he has power enough to demand\nthe help of a master, then this fearful trial,\ndepicted in Zanoni, is put upon him. The\noscillation in which he lives, is for an instant\nstilled; and he has to survive the shock of\nfacing what seems to him at first sight as the\nabyss of nothingness. Not till he has learned\nto dwell in this abyss, and has found its peace,\nis it possible for his eyes to have become\nincapable of tears.\n\n\n\n\nII\n\n\"BEFORE THE EAR CAN HEAR, IT MUST\nHAVE LOST ITS SENSITIVENESS.\"\n\n\nThe first four rules of \"Light on the Path\"\nare, undoubtedly, curious though the statement\nmay seem, the most important in the whole\nbook, save one only. Why they are so important\nis that they contain the vital law, the very\ncreative essence of the astral man. And it is\nonly in the astral (or self-illuminated) consciousness\nthat the rules which follow them\nhave any living meaning. Once attain to the\nuse of the astral senses and it becomes a matter\nof course that one commences to use them;\nand the later rules are but guidance in their\nuse. When I speak like this I mean, naturally,\nthat the first four rules are the ones which are\nof importance and interest to those who read\nthem in print upon a page. When they are\nengraved on a man's heart and on his life, unmistakably\nthen the rules become not merely\ninteresting, or extraordinary, metaphysical\nstatements, but actual facts in life which have\nto be grasped and experienced.\n\nThe four rules stand written in the great\nchamber of every actual lodge of a living\nBrotherhood. Whether the man is about to\nsell his soul to the devil, like Faust; whether\nhe is to be worsted in the battle, like Hamlet;\nor whether he is to pass on within the precincts;\nin any case these words are for him.\nThe man can choose between virtue and vice,\nbut not until he is a man; a babe or a wild\nanimal cannot so choose. Thus with the disciple,\nhe must first become a disciple before\nhe can even see the paths to choose between.\nThis effort of creating himself as a disciple,\nthe re-birth, he must do for himself without\nany teacher. Until the four rules are learned\nno teacher can be of any use to him; and that\nis why \"the Masters\" are referred to in the\nway they are. No real masters, whether adepts\nin power, in love, or in blackness, can affect a\nman till these four rules are passed.\n\nTears, as I have said, may be called the\nmoisture of life. The soul must have laid aside\nthe emotions of humanity, must have secured\na balance which cannot be shaken by misfortune,\nbefore its eyes can open upon the\nsuper-human world.\n\nThe voice of the Masters is always in the\nworld; but only those hear it whose ears are\nno longer receptive of the sounds which affect\nthe personal life. Laughter no longer lightens\nthe heart, anger may no longer enrage it, tender\nwords bring it no balm. For that within,\nto which the ears are as an outer gateway, is\nan unshaken place of peace in itself which no\nperson can disturb.\n\nAs the eyes are the windows of the soul, so\nare the ears its gateways or doors. Through\nthem comes knowledge of the confusion of the\nworld. The great ones who have conquered\nlife, who have become more than disciples,\nstand at peace and undisturbed amid the\nvibration and kaleidoscopic movement of\nhumanity. They hold within themselves a certain\nknowledge, as well as a perfect peace; and\nthus they are not roused or excited by the\npartial and erroneous fragments of information\nwhich are brought to their ears by the changing\nvoices of those around them. When I speak\nof knowledge, I mean intuitive knowledge.\nThis certain information can never be obtained\nby hard work, or by experiment; for these\nmethods are only applicable to matter, and\nmatter is in itself a perfectly uncertain substance,\ncontinually affected by change. The\nmost absolute and universal laws of natural\nand physical life, as understood by the scientist,\nwill pass away when the life of this universe\nhas passed away, and only its soul is left in\nthe silence. What then will be the value of\nthe knowledge of its laws acquired by industry\nand observation? I pray that no reader or\ncritic will imagine that by what I have said I\nintend to depreciate or disparage acquired\nknowledge, or the work of scientists. On the\ncontrary, I hold that scientific men are the\npioneers of modern thought. The days of literature\nand of art, when poets and sculptors saw\nthe divine light, and put it into their own\ngreat language--these days lie buried in the\nlong past with the ante-Phidian sculptors and\nthe pre-Homeric poets. The mysteries no longer\nrule the world of thought and beauty; human\nlife is the governing power, not that which\nlies beyond it. But the scientific workers are\nprogressing, not so much by their own will as\nby sheer force of circumstances, towards the\nfar line which divides things interpretable from\nthings uninterpretable. Every fresh discovery\ndrives them a step onward. Therefore do I\nvery highly esteem the knowledge obtained by\nwork and experiment.\n\nBut intuitive knowledge is an entirely different\nthing. It is not acquired in any way, but\nis, so to speak, a faculty of the soul; not the\nanimal soul, that which becomes a ghost after\ndeath, when lust or liking or the memory of\nill deeds holds it to the neighborhood of\nhuman beings, but the divine soul which\nanimates all the external forms of the individualized\nbeing.\n\nThis is, of course, a faculty which indwells\nin that soul, which is inherent. The would-be\ndisciple has to arouse himself to the consciousness\nof it by a fierce and resolute and\nindomitable effort of will. I use the word\nindomitable for a special reason. Only he who\nis untameable, who cannot be dominated, who\nknows he has to play the lord over men, over\nfacts, over all things save his own divinity\ncan arouse this faculty. \"With faith all things,\nare possible.\" The skeptical laugh at faith and\npride themselves on its absence from their own\nminds. The truth is that faith is a great\nengine, an enormous power, which in fact can\naccomplish all things. For it is the convenant\nor engagement between man's divine part and\nhis lesser self.\n\nThe use of this engine is quite necessary\nin order to obtain intuitive knowledge; for\nunless a man believes such knowledge exists\nwithin himself how can he claim and use it?\n\nWithout it he is more helpless than any\ndrift-wood or wreckage on the great tides of\nthe ocean. They are cast hither and thither\nindeed; so may a man be by the chances of\nfortune. But such adventures are purely\nexternal and of very small account. A slave\nmay be dragged through the streets in chains,\nand yet retain the quiet soul of a philosopher,\nas was well seen in the person of Epictetus. A\nman may have every worldly prize in his possession,\nand stand absolute master of his\npersonal fate, to all appearance, and yet he\nknows no peace, no certainty, because he is\nshaken within himself by every tide of thought\nthat he touches on. And these changing tides\ndo not merely sweep the man bodily hither\nand thither like drift-wood on the water; that\nwould be nothing. They enter into the gate-ways\nof his soul, and wash over that soul and\nmake it blind and blank and void of all permanent\nintelligence so that passing impressions\naffect it.\n\nTo make my meaning plainer I will use an\nillustration. Take an author at his writing, a\npainter at his canvas, a composer listening to\nthe melodies that dawn upon his glad imagination;\nlet any one of these workers pass his daily\nhours by a wide window looking on a busy\nstreet. The power of the animating life blinds\nsight and hearing alike, and the great traffic of\nthe city goes by like nothing but a passing\npageant. But a man whose mind is empty,\nwhose day is objectless, sitting at that same\nwindow, notes the passers-by and remembers\nthe faces that chance to please or interest him.\nSo it is with the mind in its relation to eternal\ntruth. If it no longer transmits its fluctuations,\nits partial knowledge, its unreliable information\nto the soul, then in the inner place of\npeace already found when the first rule has\nbeen learned--in that inner place there leaps\ninto flame the light of actual knowledge. Then\nthe ears begin to hear. Very dimly, very\nfaintly at first. And, indeed, so faint and\ntender are these first indications of the commencement\nof true actual life, that they are\nsometimes pushed aside as mere fancies, mere\nimaginings.\n\nBut before these are capable of becoming\nmore than mere imaginings, the abyss of\nnothingness has to be faced in another form.\nThe utter silence which can only come by closing\nthe ears to all transitory sounds comes as\na more appalling horror than even the formless\nemptiness of space. Our only mental conception\nof blank space is, I think, when reduced\nto its barest element of thought, that of black\ndarkness. This is a great physical terror to\nmost persons, and when regarded as an eternal\nand unchangeable fact, must mean to the mind\nthe idea of annihilation rather than anything\nelse. But it is the obliteration of one sense\nonly; and the sound of a voice may come and\nbring comfort even in the profoundest darkness.\nThe disciple, having found his way into\nthis blackness, which is the fearful abyss, must\nthen so shut the gates of his soul that no\ncomforter can enter there nor any enemy. And\nit is in making this second effort that the fact\nof pain and pleasure being but one sensation\nbecomes recognisable by those who have before\nbeen unable to perceive it. For when the solitude\nof silence is reached the soul hungers so\nfiercely and passionately for some sensation on\nwhich to rest, that a painful one would be as\nkeenly welcomed as a pleasant one. When\nthis consciousness is reached the courageous\nman by seizing and retaining it, may destroy\nthe \"sensitiveness\" at once. When the ear no\nlonger discriminates between that which is\npleasant or that which is painful, it will no\nlonger be affected by the voices of others. And\nthen it is safe and possible to open the doors\nof the soul.\n\n\"Sight\" is the first effort, and the easiest,\nbecause it is accomplished partly by an intellectual\neffort. The intellect can conquer the\nheart, as is well known in ordinary life. Therefore,\nthis preliminary step still lies within the\ndominion of matter. But the second step allows\nof no such assistance, nor of any material aid\nwhatever. Of course, I mean by material aid\nthe action of the brain, or emotions, or human\nsoul. In compelling the ears to listen only to\nthe eternal silence, the being we call man\nbecomes something which is no longer man. A\nvery superficial survey of the thousand and\none influences which are brought to bear on\nus by others will show that this must be so.\nA disciple will fulfil all the duties of his manhood;\nbut he will fulfil them according to\nhis own sense of right, and not according to\nthat of any person or body of persons. This\nis a very evident result of following the creed\nof knowledge instead of any of the blind\ncreeds.\n\nTo obtain the pure silence necessary for the\ndisciple, the heart and emotions, the brain and\nits intellectualisms, have to be put aside. Both\nare but mechanisms, which will perish with the\nspan of man's life. It is the essence beyond,\nthat which is the motive power, and makes man\nlive, that is now compelled to rouse itself and\nact. Now is the greatest hour of danger. In\nthe first trial men go mad with fear; of this\nfirst trial Bulwer Lytton wrote. No novelist\nhas followed to the second trial, though some\nof the poets have. Its subtlety and great\ndanger lies in the fact that in the measure of a\nman's strength is the measure of his chance of\npassing beyond it or coping with it at all. If\nhe has power enough to awaken that unaccustomed\npart of himself, the supreme essence,\nthen has he power to lift the gates of gold,\nthen is he the true alchemist, in possession of\nthe elixir of life.\n\nIt is at this point of experience that the\noccultist becomes separated from all other men\nand enters on to a life which is his own; on to\nthe path of individual accomplishment instead\nof mere obedience to the genii which rule our\nearth. This raising of himself into an individual\npower does in reality identify him with\nthe nobler forces of life and make him one\nwith them. For they stand beyond the powers\nof this earth and the laws of this universe. Here\nlies man's only hope of success in the great\neffort; to leap right away from his present\nstandpoint to his next and at once become an\nintrinsic part of the divine power as he has\nbeen an intrinsic part of the intellectual power,\nof the great nature to which he belongs. He\nstands always in advance of himself, if such\na contradiction can be understood. It is the\nmen who adhere to this position, who believe\nin their innate power of progress, and that\nof the whole race, who are the elder brothers,\nthe pioneers. Each man has to accomplish the\ngreat leap for himself and without aid; yet it is\nsomething of a staff to lean on to know that\nothers have gone on that road. It is possible\nthat they have been lost in the abyss; no\nmatter, they have had the courage to enter it.\nWhy I say that it is possible they have been\nlost in the abyss is because of this fact, that one\nwho has passed through is unrecognisable until\nthe other and altogether new condition is attained\nby both. It is unnecessary to enter upon\nthe subject of what that condition is at present.\n\nI only say this, that in the early state in\nwhich man is entering upon the silence he loses\nknowledge of his friends, of his lovers, of all\nwho have been near and dear to him; and also\nloses sight of his teachers and of those who\nhave preceded him on his way. I explain this\nbecause scarce one passes through without\nbitter complaint. Could but the mind grasp\nbeforehand that the silence must be complete,\nsurely this complaint need not arise as a hindrance\non the path. Your teacher, or your\npredecessor may hold your hand in his, and\ngive you the utmost sympathy the human heart\nis capable of. But when the silence and the\ndarkness comes, you lose all knowledge of him;\nyou are alone and he cannot help you, not\nbecause his power is gone, but because you\nhave invoked your great enemy.\n\nBy your great enemy, I mean yourself. If\nyou have the power to face your own soul in\nthe darkness and silence, you will have conquered\nthe physical or animal self which dwells\nin sensation only.\n\nThis statement, I feel, will appear involved;\nbut in reality it is quite simple. Man, when\nhe has reached his fruition, and civilization is\nat its height, stands between two fires. Could\nhe but claim his great inheritance, the encumbrance\nof the mere animal life would fall away\nfrom him without difficulty. But he does not\ndo this, and so the races of men flower and\nthen droop and die and decay off the face of\nthe earth, however splendid the bloom may\nhave been. And it is left to the individual to\nmake this great effort; to refuse to be terrified\nby his greater nature, to refuse to be drawn\nback by his lesser or more material self. Every\nindividual who accomplishes this is a redeemer\nof the race. He may not blazon forth his deeds,\nhe may dwell in secret and silence; but it is\na fact that he forms a link between man and\nhis divine part; between the known and the\nunknown; between the stir of the marketplace\nand the stillness of the snow-capped Himalayas.\nHe has not to go about among men in\norder to form this link; in the astral he _is_ that\nlink, and this fact makes him a being of\nanother order from the rest of mankind. Even\nso early on the road towards knowledge, when\nhe has but taken the second step, he finds his\nfooting more certain, and becomes conscious\nthat he is a recognised part of a whole.\n\nThis is one of the contradictions in life\nwhich occur so constantly that they afford fuel\nto the fiction writer. The occultist finds them\nbecome much more marked as he endeavors to\nlive the life he has chosen. As he retreats within\nhimself and becomes self-dependent, he finds\nhimself more definitely becoming part of a\ngreat tide of definite thought and feeling.\nWhen he has learned the first lesson, conquered\nthe hunger of the heart, and refused\nto live on the love of others, he finds himself\nmore capable of inspiring love. As he flings\nlife away it comes to him in a new form and\nwith a new meaning. The world has always\nbeen a place with many contradictions in it,\nto the man; when he becomes a disciple he\nfinds life is describable as a series of paradoxes.\nThis is a fact in nature, and the reason for it is\nintelligible enough. Man's soul \"dwells like\na star apart,\" even that of the vilest among\nus; while his consciousness is under the law of\nvibratory and sensuous life. This alone is\nenough to cause those complications of character\nwhich are the material for the novelist;\nevery man is a mystery, to friend and enemy\nalike, and to himself. His motives are often\nundiscoverable, and he cannot probe to them or\nknow why he does this or that. The disciple's\neffort is that of awakening consciousness in\nthis starry part of himself, where his power\nand divinity lie sleeping. As this consciousness\nbecomes awakened, the contradictions in the\nman himself become more marked than ever;\nand so do the paradoxes which he lives\nthrough. For, of course man creates his own\nlife; and \"adventures are to the adventurous\"\nis one of those wise proverbs which are drawn\nfrom actual fact, and cover the whole area of\nhuman experience.\n\nPressure on the divine part of man re-acts\nupon the animal part. As the silent soul\nawakes it makes the ordinary life of the man\nmore purposeful, more vital, more real, and\nresponsible. To keep to the two instances\nalready mentioned, the occultist who has withdrawn\ninto his own citadel has found his\nstrength; immediately he becomes aware of\nthe demands of duty upon him. He does not\nobtain his strength by his own right, but because\nhe is a part of the whole; and as soon as\nhe is safe from the vibration of life and can\nstand unshaken, the outer world cries out to\nhim to come and labor in it. So with the heart.\nWhen it no longer wishes to take, it is called\nupon to give abundantly.\n\n\"Light on the Path\" has been called a book\nof paradoxes, and very justly; what else could\nit be, when it deals with the actual personal\nexperience of the disciple?\n\nTo have acquired the astral senses of sight\nand hearing; or in other words to have attained\nperception and opened the doors of the soul,\nare gigantic tasks and may take the sacrifice\nof many successive incarnations. And yet, when\nthe will has reached its strength, the whole\nmiracle may be worked in a second of time.\nThen is the disciple the servant of Time no\nlonger.\n\nThese two first steps are negative; that is\nto say they imply retreat from a present condition\nof things rather than advance towards\nanother. The two next are active, implying the\nadvance into another state of being.\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\n\"BEFORE THE VOICE CAN SPEAK IN THE\nPRESENCE OF THE MASTERS.\"\n\n\nSpeech is the power of communication; the\nmoment of entrance into active life is marked\nby its attainment.\n\nAnd now, before I go any further, let me\nexplain a little the way in which the rules\nwritten down in \"Light on the Path\" are arranged.\nThe first seven of those which are\nnumbered are sub-divisions of the two first\nunnumbered rules, those with which I have\ndealt in the two preceding papers. The numbered\nrules were simply an effort of mine to\nmake the unnumbered ones more intelligible.\n\"Eight\" to \"fifteen\" of these numbered rules\nbelong to this unnumbered rule which is now\nmy text.\n\nAs I have said, these rules are written for\nall disciples, but for none else; they are not\nof interest to any other persons. Therefore\nI trust no one else will trouble to read these\npapers any further. The first two rules, which\ninclude the whole of that part of the effort\nwhich necessitates the use of the surgeon's\nknife, I will enlarge upon further if I am asked\nto do so. But the disciple is expected to deal\nwith a snake, his lower self, unaided; to suppress\nhis human passions and emotions by the\nforce of his own will. He can only demand\nassistance of a master when this is accomplished,\nor at all events, partially so. Otherwise\nthe gates and windows of his soul are blurred,\nand blinded, and darkened, and no knowledge\ncan come to him. I am not, in these papers,\npurposing to tell a man how to deal with his\nown soul; I am simply giving, to the disciple,\nknowledge. That I am not writing even now,\nso that all who run may read, is owing to the\nfact that super-nature prevents this by its own\nimmutable laws.\n\nThe four rules which I have written down\nfor those in the West who wish to study them,\nare as I have said, written in the ante-chamber\nof every living Brotherhood; I may add more,\nin the ante-chamber of every living or dead\nBrotherhood, or Order yet to be formed. When\nI speak of a Brotherhood or an Order, I do not\nmean an arbitrary constitution made by scholiasts\nand intellectualists; I mean an actual\nfact in super-nature, a stage of development\ntowards the absolute God or Good. During\nthis development the disciple encounters harmony,\npure knowledge, pure truth, in different\ndegrees, and, as he enters these degrees, he\nfinds himself becoming part of what might be\nroughly described as a layer of human consciousness.\nHe encounters his equals, men of\nhis own selfless character, and with them his\nassociation becomes permanent and indissoluble,\nbecause founded on a vital likeness of\nnature. To them he becomes pledged by such\nvows as need no utterance or framework in\nordinary words. This is one aspect of what I\nmean by a Brotherhood.\n\nIf the first rules are conquered, the disciple\nfinds himself standing at the threshold. Then\nif his will is sufficiently resolute his power of\nspeech comes; a two-fold power. For, as he\nadvances now, he finds himself entering into\na state of blossoming, where every bud that\nopens throws out its several rays or petals. If\nhe is to exercise his new gift, he must use it\nin its two-fold character. He finds in himself\nthe power to speak in the presence of the\nmasters; in other words, he has the right to\ndemand contact with the divinest element of\nthat state of consciousness into which he has\nentered. But he finds himself compelled, by\nthe nature of his position, to act in two ways\nat the same time. He cannot send his voice up\nto the heights where sit the gods till he has\npenetrated to the deep places where their light\nshines not at all. He has come within the grip\nof an iron law. If he demands to become a\nneophyte, he at once becomes a servant. Yet\nhis service is sublime, if only from the character\nof those who share it. For the masters\nare also servants; they serve and claim their\nreward afterwards. Part of their service is to\nlet their knowledge touch him; his first act of\nservice is to give some of that knowledge to\nthose who are not yet fit to stand where he\nstands. This is no arbitrary decision, made by\nany master or teacher or any such person, however\ndivine. It is a law of that life which the\ndisciple has entered upon.\n\nTherefore was it written in the inner doorway\nof the lodges of the old Egyptian Brotherhood,\n\"the laborer is worthy of his hire.\" \"Ask\nand ye shall have,\" sounds like something too\neasy and simple to be credible. But the disciple\ncannot \"ask\" in the mystic sense in which the\nword is used in this scripture until he has\nattained the power of helping others.\n\nWhy is this? Has the statement too dogmatic\na sound?\n\nIs it too dogmatic to say that a man must\nhave foothold before he can spring? The position\nis the same. If help is given, if work is\ndone, then there is an actual claim--not what\nwe call personal claim of payment, but the\nclaim of co-nature. The divine give, they\ndemand that you also shall give before you\ncan be of their kin.\n\nThis law is discovered as soon as the disciple\nendeavors to speak. For speech is a gift\nwhich comes only to the disciple of power and\nknowledge. The spiritualist enters the psychic-astral\nworld, but he does not find there any\ncertain speech, unless he at once claims it and\ncontinues to do so. If he is interested in \"phenomena,\"\nor the mere circumstance and accident\nof astral life, then he enters no direct ray\nof thought or purpose, he merely exists and\namuses himself in the astral life as he has\nexisted and amused himself in the physical life.\nCertainly there are one or two simple lessons\nwhich the psychic-astral can teach him, just\nas there are simple lessons which material and\nintellectual life teach him. And these lessons\nhave to be learned; the man who proposes to\nenter upon the life of the disciple without having\nlearned the early and simple lessons must\nalways suffer from his ignorance. They are\nvital, and have to be studied in a vital manner;\nexperienced through and through, over and\nover again, so that each part of the nature has\nbeen penetrated by them.\n\nTo return. In claiming the power of speech,\nas it is called, the Neophyte cries out to the\nGreat One who stands foremost in the ray of\nknowledge on which he has entered, to give\nhim guidance. When he does this, his voice is\nhurled back by the power he has approached,\nand echoes down to the deep recesses of human\nignorance. In some confused and blurred manner\nthe news that there is knowledge and a\nbeneficent power which teaches is carried to\nas many men as will listen to it. No disciple\ncan cross the threshold without communicating\nthis news, and placing it on record in some\nfashion or other.\n\nHe stands horror-struck at the imperfect\nand unprepared manner in which he has done\nthis; and then comes the desire to do it well,\nand with the desire thus to help others comes\nthe power. For it is a pure desire, this which\ncomes upon him; he can gain no credit, no\nglory, no personal reward by fulfilling it. And\ntherefore he obtains the power to fulfil it.\n\nThe history of the whole past, so far as we\ncan trace it, shows very plainly that there is\nneither credit, glory, nor reward to be gained\nby this first task which is given to the Neophyte.\nMystics have always been sneered at,\nand seers disbelieved; those who have had the\nadded power of intellect have left for posterity\ntheir written record, which to most men appears\nunmeaning and visionary, even when the\nauthors have the advantage of speaking from a\nfar-off past. The disciple who undertakes the\ntask, secretly hoping for fame or success, to\nappear as a teacher and apostle before the\nworld, fails even before his task is attempted,\nand his hidden hypocrisy poisons his own soul,\nand the souls of those he touches. He is\nsecretly worshiping himself, and this idolatrous\npractice must bring its own reward.\n\nThe disciple who has the power of entrance,\nand is strong enough to pass each barrier, will,\nwhen the divine message comes to his spirit,\nforget himself utterly in the new consciousness\nwhich falls on him. If this lofty contact can\nreally rouse him, he becomes as one of the\ndivine in his desire to give rather than to take,\nin his wish to help rather than be helped, in\nhis resolution to feed the hungry rather than\ntake manna from Heaven himself. His nature\nis transformed, and the selfishness which\nprompts men's actions in ordinary life suddenly\ndeserts him.\n\n\n\n\nIV\n\n\n\"BEFORE THE VOICE CAN SPEAK IN THE\nPRESENCE OF THE MASTERS, IT MUST HAVE\nLOST THE POWER TO WOUND.\"\n\nThose who give merely passing and superficial\nattention to the subject of occultism--and\ntheir name is Legion--constantly inquire\nwhy, if adepts in life exist, they do not appear\nin the world and show their power. That the\nchief body of these wise ones should be understood\nto dwell beyond the fastnesses of the\nHimalayas, appears to be a sufficient proof that\nthey are only figures of straw. Otherwise why\nplace them so far off?\n\nUnfortunately, Nature has done this and\nnot personal choice or arrangement. There are\ncertain spots on the earth where the advance\nof \"civilization\" is unfelt, and the nineteenth\ncentury fever is kept at bay. In these favored\nplaces there is always time, always opportunity,\nfor the realities of life; they are not crowded\nout by the doings of an inchoate, money-loving,\npleasure seeking society. While there are\nadepts upon the earth, the earth must preserve\nto them places of seclusion. This is a fact in\nnature which is only an external expression of\na profound fact in super-nature.\n\nThe demand of the neophyte remains unheard\nuntil the voice in which it is uttered has\nlost the power to wound. This is because the\ndivine-astral life[A] is a place in which order\nreigns, just as it does in natural life. There\nis, of course, always the center and the circumference\nas there is in nature. Close to the\ncentral heart of life, on any plane, there is\nknowledge, there order reigns completely; and\nchaos makes dim and confused the outer margin\nof the circle. In fact, life in every form\nbears a more or less strong resemblance to a\nphilosophic school. There are always the devotees\nto knowledge who forget their own lives\nin their pursuit of it; there are always the\nflippant crowd who come and go--of such,\nEpictetus said that it was [as] easy to teach\nthem philosophy as to eat custard with a fork.\nThe same state exists in the super-astral life;\nand the adept has an even deeper and more\nprofound seclusion there in which to dwell.\nThis place of retreat is so safe, so sheltered,\nthat no sound which has discord in it can reach\nhis ears. Why should this be, will be asked at\nonce, if he is a being of such great powers as\nthose say who believe in his existence? The\nanswer seems very apparent. He serves humanity\nand identifies himself with the whole world;\nhe is ready to make vicarious sacrifice for it at\nany moment--_by living not by dying for it_.\nWhy should he not die for it? Because he is\npart of the great whole, and one of the most\nvaluable parts of it. Because he lives under\nlaws of order which he does not desire to\nbreak. His life is not his own, but that of the\nforces which work behind him. He is the\nflower of humanity, the bloom which contains\nthe divine seed. He is, in his own person, a\ntreasure of the universal nature, which is\nguarded and made safe in order that the fruition\nshall be perfected. It is only at definite\nperiods of the world's history that he is allowed\nto go among the herd of men as their redeemer.\nBut for those who have the power to separate\nthemselves from this herd he is always at hand.\nAnd for those who are strong enough to conquer\nthe vices of the personal human nature, as\nset forth in these four rules, he is consciously\nat hand, easily recognised, ready to answer.\n\n[Footnote A: Of course every occultist knows by reading\nEliphas L\u00e9vi and other authors that the \"astral\"\nplane is a plane of unequalized forces, and that a\nstate of confusion necessarily prevails. But this does\nnot apply to the \"divine astral\" plane, which is a\nplane where wisdom, and therefore order, prevails.]\n\nBut this conquering of self implies a destruction\nof qualities which most men regard\nas not only indestructible but desirable. The\n\"power to wound\" includes much that men\nvalue, not only in themselves, but in others.\nThe instinct of self-defense and of self-preservation\nis part of it; the idea that one has any\nright or rights, either as a citizen, or man, or\nindividual, the pleasant consciousness of self-respect\nand of virtue. These are hard sayings\nto many; yet they are true. For these words\nthat I am writing now, and those which I have\nwritten on this subject, are not in any sense\nmy own. They are drawn from the traditions\nof the lodge of the great Brotherhood, which\nwas once the secret splendor of Egypt. The\nrules written in its ante-chamber were the same\nas those now written in the ante-chamber of\nexisting schools. Through all time the wise\nmen have lived apart from the mass. And\neven when some temporary purpose or object\ninduces one of them to come into the midst of\nhuman life, his seclusion and safety is preserved\nas completely as ever. It is part of his\ninheritance, part of his position, he has an\nactual title to it, and can no more put it aside\nthan the Duke of Westminster can say he does\nnot choose to be the Duke of Westminster. In\nthe various great cities of the world an adept\nlives for a while from time to time, or perhaps\nonly passes through; but all are occasionally\naided by the actual power and presence of one\nof these men. Here in London, as in Paris and\nSt. Petersburgh, there are men high in development.\nBut they are only known as mystics by\nthose who have the power to recognise; the\npower given by the conquering of self. Otherwise\nhow could they exist, even for an hour,\nin such a mental and psychic atmosphere as is\ncreated by the confusion and disorder of a city?\nUnless protected and made safe their own\ngrowth would be interfered with, their work\ninjured. And the neophyte may meet an adept\nin the flesh, may live in the same house with\nhim, and yet be unable to recognise him, and\nunable to make his own voice heard by him. For\nno nearness in space, no closeness of relations,\nno daily intimacy, can do away with the inexorable\nlaws which give the adept his seclusion.\nNo voice penetrates to his inner hearing till it\nhas become a divine voice, a voice which gives\nno utterance to the cries of self. Any lesser\nappeal would be as useless, as much a waste of\nenergy and power, as for mere children who\nare learning their alphabet to be taught it by\na professor of philology. Until a man has\nbecome, in heart and spirit, a disciple, he has no\nexistence for those who are teachers of disciples.\nAnd he becomes this by one method only--the\nsurrender of his personal humanity.\n\nFor the voice to have lost the power to\nwound, a man must have reached that point\nwhere he sees himself only as one of the vast\nmultitudes that live; one of the sands washed\nhither and thither by the sea of vibratory existence.\nIt is said that every grain of sand in the\nocean bed does, in its turn, get washed up on to\nthe shore and lie for a moment in the sunshine.\nSo with human beings, they are driven hither\nand thither by a great force, and each, in his\nturn, finds the sunrays on him. When a man\nis able to regard his own life as part of a whole\nlike this he will no longer struggle in order\nto obtain anything for himself. This is the surrender\nof personal rights. The ordinary man\nexpects, not to take equal fortunes with the\nrest of the world, but in some points, about\nwhich he cares, to fare better than the others.\nThe disciple does not expect this. Therefore,\nthough he be, like Epictetus, a chained slave,\nhe has no word to say about it. He knows that\nthe wheel of life turns ceaselessly. Burne Jones\nhas shown it in his marvellous picture--the\nwheel turns, and on it are bound the rich and\nthe poor, the great and the small--each has\nhis moment of good fortune when the wheel\nbrings him uppermost--the King rises and\nfalls, the poet is _f\u00eated_ and forgotten, the slave\nis happy and afterwards discarded. Each in his\nturn is crushed as the wheel turns on. The disciple\nknows that this is so, and though it is his\nduty to make the utmost of the life that is his,\nhe neither complains of it nor is elated by it,\nnor does he complain against the better fortune\nof others. All alike, as he well knows, are but\nlearning a lesson; and he smiles at the socialist\nand the reformer who endeavor by sheer force\nto re-arrange circumstances which arise out of\nthe forces of human nature itself. This is but\nkicking against the pricks; a waste of life\nand energy.\n\nIn realizing this a man surrenders his\nimagined individual rights, of whatever sort.\nThat takes away one keen sting which is\ncommon to all ordinary men.\n\nWhen the disciple has fully recognised that\nthe very thought of individual rights is only\nthe outcome of the venomous quality in himself,\nthat it is the hiss of the snake of self\nwhich poisons with its sting his own life and\nthe lives of those about him, then he is ready\nto take part in a yearly ceremony which is open\nto all neophytes who are prepared for it. All\nweapons of defense and offense are given up;\nall weapons of mind and heart, and brain, and\nspirit. Never again can another man be regarded\nas a person who can be criticized or\ncondemned; never again can the neophyte\nraise his voice in self-defense or excuse. From\nthat ceremony he returns into the world as\nhelpless, as unprotected, as a new-born child.\nThat, indeed, is what he is. He has begun to\nbe born again on to the higher plane of life,\nthat breezy and well-lit plateau from whence\nthe eyes see intelligently and regard the world\nwith a new insight.\n\nI have said, a little way back, that after\nparting with the sense of individual rights, the\ndisciple must part also with the sense of self-respect\nand of virtue. This may sound a terrible\ndoctrine, yet all occultists know well that it\nis not a doctrine, but a fact. He who thinks\nhimself holier than another, he who has any\npride in his own exemption from vice or folly,\nhe who believes himself wise, or in any way\nsuperior to his fellow men, is incapable of\ndiscipleship. A man must become as a little\nchild before he can enter into the kingdom of\nheaven.\n\nVirtue and wisdom are sublime things; but\nif they create pride and a consciousness of\nseparateness from the rest of humanity in the\nmind of a man, then they are only the snakes\nof self re-appearing in a finer form. At any\nmoment he may put on his grosser shape and\nsting as fiercely as when he inspired the actions\nof a murderer who kills for gain or hatred,\nor a politician who sacrifices the mass for his\nown or his party's interests.\n\nIn fact, to have lost the power to wound,\nimplies that the snake is not only scotched,\nbut killed. When it is merely stupefied or\nlulled to sleep it awakes again and the disciple\nuses his knowledge and his power for his own\nends, and is a pupil of the many masters of\nthe black art, for the road to destruction is very\nbroad and easy, and the way can be found\nblindfold. That it is the way to destruction\nis evident, for when a man begins to live for\nself he narrows his horizon steadily till at last\nthe fierce driving inwards leaves him but the\nspace of [a] pin's-head to dwell in. We have\nall seen this phenomenon occur in ordinary life.\nA man who becomes selfish isolates himself,\ngrows less interesting and less agreeable to\nothers. The sight is an awful one, and people\nshrink from a very selfish person at last, as\nfrom a beast of prey. How much more awful is\nit when it occurs on the more advanced plane\nof life, with the added powers of knowledge,\nand through the greater sweep of successive\nincarnations!\n\nTherefore I say, pause and think well upon\nthe threshold. For if the demand of the neophyte\nis made without the complete purification,\nit will not penetrate the seclusion of the\ndivine adept, but will evoke the terrible forces\nwhich attend upon the black side of our human\nnature.\n\n\n\n\nV\n\n\n\"BEFORE THE SOUL CAN STAND IN THE\nPRESENCE OF THE MASTERS, ITS FEET MUST\nBE WASHED IN THE BLOOD OF THE HEART.\"\n\n\nThe word soul, as used here, means the\ndivine soul, or \"starry spirit.\"\n\n\"To be able to stand is to have confidence\";\nand to have confidence means that the disciple\nis sure of himself, that he has surrendered his\nemotions, his very self, even his humanity;\nthat he is incapable of fear and unconscious of\npain; that his whole consciousness is centered\nin the divine life, which is expressed symbolically\nby the term \"the Masters\"; that he has\nneither eyes, nor ears, nor speech, nor power,\nsave in and for the divine ray on which his\nhighest sense has touched. Then he is fearless,\nfree from suffering, free from anxiety or dismay;\nhis soul stands without shrinking or\ndesire of postponement, in the full blaze of the\ndivine light which penetrates through and\nthrough his being. Then he has come into his\ninheritance and can claim his kinship with the\nteachers of men; he is upright, he has raised\nhis head, he breathes the same air that they do.\n\nBut before it is in any way possible for him\nto do this, the feet of the soul must be washed\nin the blood of the heart.\n\nThe sacrifice, or surrender of the heart of\nman, and its emotions, is the first of the rules;\nit involves the \"attaining of an equilibrium\nwhich cannot be shaken by personal emotion.\"\nThis is done by the stoic philosopher; he, too,\nstands aside and looks equably upon his own\nsufferings, as well as on those of others.\n\nIn the same way that \"tears\" in the language\nof occultists expresses the soul of\nemotion, not its material appearance, so blood\nexpresses, not that blood which is an essential\nof physical life, but the vital creative principle\nin man's nature, which drives him into human\nlife in order to experience pain and pleasure,\njoy and sorrow. When he has let the blood\nflow from the heart he stands before the Masters\nas a pure spirit which no longer\nto incarnate for the sake of emotion and\nexperience. Through great cycles of time successive\nincarnations in gross matter may yet\nbe his lot; but he no longer desires them, the\ncrude wish to live has departed from him.\nWhen he takes upon him man's form in the\nflesh he does it in the pursuit of a divine object,\nto accomplish the work of \"the Masters,\" and\nfor no other end. He looks neither for pleasure\nnor pain, asks for no heaven, and fears\nno hell; yet he has entered upon a great\ninheritance which is not so much a compensation\nfor these things surrendered, as a state\nwhich simply blots out the memory of them.\nHe lives now not in the world, but with it: his\nhorizon has extended itself to the width of\nthe whole universe.\n\n\n\n\nKARMA\n\n\nConsider with me that the individual existence\nis a rope which stretches from the\ninfinite to the infinite and has no end and no\ncommencement, neither is it capable of being\nbroken. This rope is formed of innumerable\nfine threads, which, lying closely together,\nform its thickness. These threads are colorless,\nare perfect in their qualities of straightness,\nstrength, and levelness. This rope, passing as\nit does through all places, suffers strange\naccidents. Very often a thread is caught and\nbecomes attached, or perhaps is only violently\npulled away from its even way. Then for a\ngreat time it is disordered, and it disorders the\nwhole. Sometimes one is stained with dirt or\nwith color, and not only does the stain run on\nfurther than the spot of contact, but it discolors\nother of the threads. And remember that the\nthreads are living--are like electric wires,\nmore, are like quivering nerves. How far, then,\nmust the stain, the drag awry, be communicated!\nBut eventually the long strands, the\nliving threads which in their unbroken\ncontinuity form the individual, pass out of the\nshadow into the shine. Then the threads are no\nlonger colorless, but golden; once more they lie\ntogether, level. Once more harmony is established\nbetween them; and from that harmony\nwithin the greater harmony is perceived.\n\nThis illustration presents but a small\nportion--a single side of the truth: it is less\nthan a fragment. Yet, dwell on it; by its aid\nyou may be led to perceive more. What it is\nnecessary first to understand is, not that the\nfuture is arbitrarily formed by any separate\nacts of the present, but that the whole of the\nfuture is in unbroken continuity with the\npresent as the present is with the past. On one\nplane, from one point of view, the illustration\nof the rope is correct.\n\nIt is said that a little attention to occultism\nproduces great Karmic results. That is because\nit is impossible to give any attention to\noccultism without making a definite choice between\nwhat are familiarly called good and evil.\nThe first step in occultism brings the student to\nthe tree of knowledge. He must pluck and eat;\nhe must choose. No longer is he capable of the\nindecision of ignorance. He. goes, on, either on\nthe good or on the evil path. And to step\ndefinitely and knowingly even but one step on\neither path produces great Karmic results. The\nmass of men walk waveringly, uncertain as to\nthe goal they aim at; their standard of life is\nindefinite; consequently their Karma operates\nin a confused manner. But when once the\nthreshold of knowledge is reached, the confusion\nbegins to lessen, and consequently the\nKarmic results increase enormously, because\nall are acting in the same direction on all the\ndifferent planes: for the occultist cannot be\nhalf-hearted, nor can he return when he has\npassed the threshold. These things are as\nimpossible as that the man should become the\nchild again. The individuality has approached\nthe state of responsibility by reason of growth;\nit cannot recede from it.\n\nHe who would escape from the bondage of\nKarma must raise his individuality out of the\nshadow into the shine; must so elevate his\nexistence that these threads do not come in\ncontact with soiling substances, do not become\nso attached as to be pulled awry. He simply\nlifts himself out of the region in which Karma\noperates. He does not leave the existence which\nhe is experiencing because of that. The ground\nmay be rough and dirty, or full of rich flowers\nwhose pollen stains, and of sweet substances\nthat cling and become attachments--but\noverhead there is always the free sky. He who\ndesires to be Karmaless must look to the air\nfor a home; and after that to the ether. He\nwho desires to form good Karma will meet\nwith many confusions, and in the effort to sow\nrich seed for his own harvesting may plant a\nthousand weeds, and among them the giant.\nDesire to sow no seed for your own harvesting;\ndesire only to sow that seed the fruit of which\nshall feed the world. You are part of the\nworld; in giving it food you feed yourself. Yet\nin even this thought there lurks a great danger\nwhich starts forward and faces the disciple,\nwho has for long thought himself working for\ngood, while in his inmost soul he has perceived\nonly evil; that is, he has thought himself to\nbe intending great benefit to the world while\nall the time he has unconsciously embraced the\nthought of Karma, and the great benefit he\nworks for is for himself. A man may refuse to\nallow himself to think of reward. But in that\nvery refusal is seen the fact that reward is\ndesired. And it is useless for the disciple to\nstrive to learn by means of checking himself.\nThe soul must be unfettered, the desires free.\nBut until they are fixed only on that state\nwherein there is neither reward nor punishment,\ngood nor evil, it is in vain that he endeavors.\nHe may seem to make great progress, but some\nday he will come face to face with his own\nsoul, and will recognise that when he came to\nthe tree of knowledge he chose the bitter fruit\nand not the sweet; and then the veil will fall\nutterly, and he will give up his freedom and\nbecome a slave of desire. Therefore be warned,\nyou who are but turning toward the life of\noccultism. Learn now that there is no cure for\ndesire, no cure for the love of reward, no cure\nfor misery of longing, save in the fixing of the\nsight and hearing upon that which is invisible\nand soundless. Begin even now to practise it,\nand so a thousand serpents will be kept from\nyour path. Live in the eternal.\n\nThe operations of the actual laws of Karma\nare not to be studied until the disciple has\nreached the point at which they no longer affect\nhimself. The initiate has a right to demand\nthe secrets of nature and to know the rules\nwhich govern human life. He obtains this right\nby having escaped from the limits of nature\nand by having freed himself from the rules\nwhich govern human life. He has become a\nrecognised portion of the divine element, and\nis no longer affected by that which is temporary.\nHe then obtains a knowledge of the laws\nwhich govern temporary conditions. Therefore\nyou who desire to understand the laws of\nKarma, attempt first to free yourself from\nthese laws; and this can only be done by\nfixing your attention on that which is unaffected\nby those laws.\n\n\n\n\n*THROUGH THE GATES OF GOLD*\n\n*Through the\n\nGates of Gold*\n\n\n*A FRAGMENT OF THOUGHT*\n\nPROLOGUE\n\n\nEvery man has a philosophy of life of his\nown, except the true philosopher. The most\nignorant boor has some conception of his object\nin living, and definite ideas as to the easiest\nand wisest way of attaining that object. The\nman of the world is often, unconsciously to\nhimself, a philosopher of the first rank. He\ndeals with his life on principles of the clearest\ncharacter, and refuses to let his position be\nshattered by chance disaster. The  man of\nthought and imagination has less certainty,\nand finds himself continually unable to formulate\nhis ideas on that subject most profoundly\ninteresting to human nature,--human life\nitself. The true philosopher is the one who\nwould lay no claim to the name whatever, who\nhas discovered that the mystery of life is\nunapproachable by ordinary thought, just as\nthe true scientist confesses his complete\nignorance of the principles which lie behind\nscience.\n\nWhether there is any mode of thought or\nany effort of the mind which will enable a\nman to grasp the great principles that evidently\nexist as causes in human life, is a\nquestion no ordinary thinker can determine.\nYet the dim consciousness that there is cause\nbehind the effects we see, that there is order\nruling the chaos and sublime harmony pervading\nthe discords, haunts the eager souls of the\nearth, and makes them long for vision of the\nunseen and knowledge of the unknowable.\n\nWhy long and look for that which is beyond\nall hope until the inner eyes are opened? Why\nnot piece together the fragments that we have,\nat hand, and see whether from them some\nshape cannot be given to the vast puzzle?\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nTHE SEARCH FOR PLEASURE\n\nI\n\n\nWe are all acquainted with that stern thing\ncalled misery, which pursues man, and strangely\nenough, as it seems at first, pursues him with\nno vague or uncertain method, but with a positive\nand unbroken pertinacity. Its presence is\nnot absolutely continuous, else man must cease\nto live; but its pertinacity is without any break.\nThere is always the shadowy form of despair\nstanding behind man ready to touch him with\nits terrible finger if for too long he finds\nhimself content. What has given this ghastly\nshape the right to haunt us from the hour we\nare born until the hour we die? What has\ngiven it the right to stand always at our door,\nkeeping that door ajar with its impalpable yet\nplainly horrible hand, ready to enter at the\nmoment it sees fit? The greatest philosopher\nthat ever lived succumbs before it at last; and\nhe only is a philosopher, in any sane sense, who\nrecognises the fact that it is irresistible, and\nknows that like all other men he must suffer\nsoon or late. It is part of the heritage of men,\nthis pain and distress; and he who determines\nthat nothing shall make him suffer, does but\ncloak himself in a profound and chilly selfishness.\nThis cloak may protect him from pain, it\nwill also separate him from pleasure. If peace\nis to be found on earth, or any joy in life, it\ncannot be by closing up the gates of feeling,\nwhich admit us to the loftiest and most vivid\npart of our existence. Sensation, as we obtain\nit through the physical body, affords us all that\ninduces us to live in that shape. It is inconceivable\nthat any man would care to take the\ntrouble of breathing, unless the act brought\nwith it a sense of satisfaction. So it is with\nevery deed of every instant of our life. We\nlive because it is pleasant even to have the\nsensation of pain. It is sensation we desire,\nelse we would with one accord taste of the deep\nwaters of oblivion, and the human race would\nbecome extinct. If this is the case in the\nphysical life, it is evidently the case with the\nlife of the emotions,--the imagination, the\nsensibilities, all those fine and delicate formations\nwhich, with the marvellous recording\nmechanism of the brain, make up the inner\nor subtile man. Sensation is that which makes\ntheir pleasure; an infinite series of sensations\nis life to them. Destroy the sensation which\nmakes them wish to persevere in the experiment\nof living, and there is nothing left.\nTherefore the man who attempts to obliterate\nthe sense of pain, and who proposes to maintain\nan equal state whether he is pleased or\nhurt, strikes at the very root of life, and\ndestroys the object of his own existence. And\nthat must apply, so far as our present reasoning\nor intuitive powers can show us, to every\nstate, even to that of the Oriental's longed-for\nNirvana. This condition can only be one of\ninfinitely subtiler and more exquisite sensation,\nif it is a state at all, and not annihilation; and\naccording to the experience of life from which\nwe are at present able to judge, increased\nsubtility of sensation means increased vividness,--as,\nfor instance, a man of sensibility\nand imagination feels more in consequence of\nthe unfaithfulness or faithfulness of a friend\nthan can a man of even the grossest physical\nnature feel through the medium of the senses.\nThus it is clear that the philosopher who\nrefuses to feel, leaves himself no place to\nretreat to, not even the distant and unattainable\nNirvanic goal. He can only deny himself\nhis heritage of life, which is in other words\nthe right of sensation. If he chooses to sacrifice\nthat which makes him man, he must be\ncontent with mere idleness of consciousness,--a\ncondition compared to which the oyster's\nis a life of excitement.\n\nBut no man is able to accomplish such a\nfeat. The fact of his continued existence proves\nplainly that he still desires sensation, and\ndesires it in such positive and active form that\nthe desire must be gratified in physical life. It\nwould seem more practical not to deceive one's\nself by the sham of stoicism, not to attempt\nrenunciation of that with which nothing would\ninduce one to part. Would it not be a bolder\npolicy, a more promising mode of solving the\ngreat enigma of existence, to grasp it, to take\nhold firmly and to demand of it the mystery\nof itself? If men will but pause and consider\nwhat lessons they have learned from pleasure\nand pain, much might be guessed of that\nstrange thing which causes these effects. But\nmen are prone to turn away hastily from self-study,\nor from any close analysis of human\nnature. Yet there must be a science of life as\nintelligible as any of the methods of the\nschools. The science is unknown, it is true,\nand its existence is merely guessed, merely\nhinted at, by one or two of our more advanced\nthinkers. The development of a science is only\nthe discovery of what is already in existence;\nand chemistry is as magical and incredible now\nto the ploughboy as the science of life is to\nthe man of ordinary perceptions. Yet there\nmay be, and there must be, a seer who perceives\nthe growth of the new knowledge as the\nearliest dabblers in the experiments of the laboratory\nsaw the system of knowledge now\nattained evolving itself out of nature for man's\nuse and benefit.\n\n\n\n\nII\n\n\nDoubtless many more would experiment in\nsuicide, as many now do, in order to escape\nfrom the burden of life, if they could be convinced\nthat in that manner oblivion might be\nfound. But he who hesitates before drinking\nthe poison from the fear of only inviting\nchange of mode of existence, and perhaps a\nmore active form of misery, is a man of more\nknowledge than the rash souls who fling themselves\nwildly on the unknown, trusting to its\nkindliness. The waters of oblivion are something\nvery different from the waters of death,\nand the human race cannot become extinct by\nmeans of death while the law of birth still\noperates. Man returns to physical life as the\ndrunkard returns to the flagon of wine,--he\nknows not why, except that he desires the sensation\nproduced by life as the drunkard desires\nthe sensation produced by wine. The true\nwaters of oblivion lie far behind our consciousness,\nand can only be reached by ceasing\nto exist in that consciousness,--by ceasing to\nexert the will which makes us full of senses\nand sensibilities.\n\nWhy does not the creature man return into\nthat great womb of silence whence he came,\nand remain in peace, as the unborn child is at\npeace before the impetus of life has reached\nit? He does not do so because he hungers for\npleasure and pain, joy and grief, anger and\nlove. The unfortunate man will maintain that\nhe has no desire for life; and yet he proves\nhis words false by living. None can compel\nhim to live; the galley-slave may be chained to\nhis oar, but his life cannot be chained to his\nbody. The superb mechanism of the human\nbody is as useless as an engine whose fires are\nnot lit, if the will to live ceases,--that will\nwhich we maintain resolutely and without\npause, and which enables us to perform the\ntasks which otherwise would fill us with dismay,\nas, for instance, the momently drawing\nin and giving out of the breath. Such herculean\nefforts as this we carry on without complaint,\nand indeed with pleasure, in order that\nwe may exist in the midst of innumerable\nsensations.\n\nAnd more; we are content, for the most\npart, to go on without object or aim, without\nany idea of a goal or understanding of which\nway we are going. When the man first becomes\naware of this aimlessness, and is dimly conscious\nthat he is working with great and\nconstant efforts, and without any idea towards\nwhat end those efforts are directed, then\ndescends on him the misery of nineteenth-century\nthought. He is lost and bewildered,\nand without hope. He becomes sceptical, disillusioned,\nweary, and asks the apparently\nunanswerable question whether it is indeed\nworth while to draw his breath for such\nunknown and seemingly unknowable results.\nBut are these results unknowable? At least, to\nask a lesser question, is it impossible to make a\nguess as to the direction in which our goal lies?\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\n\nThis question, born of sadness and weariness,\nwhich seems to us essentially part of the\nspirit of the nineteenth century, is in fact a\nquestion which must have been asked all\nthrough the ages. Could we go back throughout\nhistory intelligently, no doubt we should\nfind that it came always with the hour when\nthe flower of civilization had blown to its\nfull, and when its petals were but slackly held\ntogether. The natural part of man has\nreached then its utmost height; he has rolled\nthe stone up the Hill of Difficulty only to watch\nit roll back again when the summit is reached,--as\nin Egypt, in Rome, in Greece. Why this\nuseless labor? Is it not enough to produce a\nweariness and sickness unutterable, to be forever\naccomplishing a task only to see it undone\nagain? Yet that is what man has done throughout\nhistory, so far as our limited knowledge\nreaches. There is one summit to which, by\nimmense and united efforts, he attains, where\nthere is a great and brilliant efflorescence of all\nthe intellectual, mental, and material part of\nhis nature. The climax of sensuous perfection\nis reached, and then his hold weakens, his\npower grows less, and he falls back, through\ndespondency and satiety, to barbarism. Why\ndoes he not stay on this hill-top he has\nreached, and look away to the mountains\nbeyond, and resolve to scale those greater\nheights? Because he is ignorant, and seeing\na great glittering in the distance, drops his\neyes bewildered and dazzled, and goes back\nfor rest to the shadowy side of his familiar\nhill. Yet there is now and then one brave\nenough to gaze fixedly on this glittering, and\nto decipher something of the shape within it.\nPoets and philosophers, thinkers and teachers,--all\nthose who are the \"elder brothers of the\nrace,\"--have beheld this sight from time to\ntime, and some among them have recognised\nin the bewildering glitter the outlines of the\nGates of Gold.\n\nThose Gates admit us to the sanctuary of\nman's own nature, to the place whence his\nlife-power comes, and where he is priest of the\nshrine of life. That it is possible to enter here,\nto pass through those Gates, some one or two\nhave shown us. Plato, Shakespeare, and a few\nother strong ones have gone through and\nspoken to us in veiled language on the near\nside of the Gates. When the strong man has\ncrossed the threshold he speaks no more to\nthose at the other side. And even the words\nhe utters when he is outside are so full of\nmystery, so veiled and profound, that only\nthose who follow in his steps can see the light\nwithin them.\n\n\n\n\nIV\n\n\nWhat men desire is to ascertain how to\nexchange pain for pleasure; that is, to find out\nin what way consciousness may be regulated\nin order that the sensation which is most\nagreeable is the one that is experienced.\nWhether this can be discovered by dint of\nhuman thought is at least a question worth\nconsidering.\n\nIf the mind of man is turned upon any\ngiven subject with a sufficient concentration,\nhe obtains illumination with regard to it sooner\nor later. The particular individual in whom\nthe final illumination appears is called a genius,\nan inventor, one inspired; but he is only the\ncrown of a great mental work created by\nunknown men about him, and receding back\nfrom him through long vistas of distance.\nWithout them he would not have had his material\nto deal with. Even the poet requires\ninnumerable poetasters to feed upon. He is the\nessence of the poetic power of his time, and\nof the times before him. It is impossible to\nseparate an individual of any species from\nhis kin.\n\nIf, therefore, instead of accepting the\nunknown as unknowable, men were _with one\naccord_ to turn their thoughts towards it, those\nGolden Gates would not remain so inexorably\nshut. It does but need a strong hand to push\nthem open. The courage to enter them is the\ncourage to search the recesses of one's own\nnature without fear and without shame. In\nthe fine part, the essence, the flavor of the\nman, is found the key which unlocks those\ngreat Gates. And when they open, what is it\nthat is found?\n\nVoices here and there in the long silence\nof the ages speak to answer that question.\nThose who have passed through have left\nwords behind them as legacies to others of\ntheir kin. In these words we can find definite\nindications of what is to be looked for beyond\nthe Gates. But only those who desire to go\nthat way read the meaning hidden within the\nwords. Scholars, or rather scholiasts, read the\nsacred books of different nations, the poetry\nand the philosophy left by enlightened minds,\nand find in it all the merest materiality.\nImagination glorifying legends of nature, or\nexaggerating the psychic possibilities of man,\nexplains to them all that they find in the Bibles\nof humanity.\n\nWhat is to be found within the words of\nthose books is to be found in each one of us;\nand it is impossible to find in literature or\nthrough any channel of thought that which\ndoes not exist in the man who studies. This\nis of course an evident fact known to all real\nstudents. But it has to be especially remembered\nin reference to this profound and obscure\nsubject, as men so readily believe that nothing\ncan exist for others where they themselves find\nemptiness.\n\nOne thing is soon perceived by the man\nwho reads: those who have gone before have\nnot found that the Gates of Gold lead to\noblivion. On the contrary, sensation becomes\nreal for the first time when that threshold is\ncrossed. But it is of a new order, an order\nunknown to us now, and by us impossible to\nappreciate without at least some clew as to its\ncharacter. This clew can be obtained undoubtedly\nby any student who cares to go through\nall the literature accessible to us. That mystic\nbooks and manuscripts exist, but remain inaccessible\nsimply because there is no man ready\nto read the first page of any one of them,\nbecomes the conviction of all who have studied\nthe subject sufficiently. For there must be the\ncontinuous line all through: we see it go from\ndense ignorance up to intelligence and wisdom;\nit is only natural that it should go on to\nintuitive knowledge and to inspiration. Some\nscant fragments we have of these great gifts\nof man; where, then, is the whole of which\nthey must be a part? Hidden behind the thin\nyet seemingly impassable veil which hides it\nfrom us as it hid all science, all art, all powers\nof man till he had the courage to tear away\nthe screen. That courage comes only of conviction.\nWhen once man believes that the thing\nexists which he desires, he will obtain it at any\ncost. The difficulty in this case lies in man's\nincredulity. It requires a great tide of thought\nand attention to set in towards the unknown\nregion of man's nature in order that its gates\nmay be unlocked and its glorious vistas\nexplored.\n\nThat it is worth while to do this whatever\nthe hazard may be, all must allow who have\nasked the sad question of the nineteenth century,--Is\nlife worth living? Surely it is sufficient\nto spur man to new effort,--the\nsuspicion that beyond civilization, beyond\nmental culture, beyond art and mechanical\nperfection, there is a new, another gateway,\nadmitting to the realities of life.\n\n\n\n\nV\n\n\nWhen it seems as if the end was reached,\nthe goal attained, and that man has no more\nto do,--just then, when he appears to have\nno choice but between eating and drinking and\nliving in his comfort as the beasts do in theirs,\nand scepticism which is death,--then it is that\nin fact, if he will but look, the Golden Gates\nare before him. With the culture of the age\nwithin him and assimilated perfectly, so that\nhe is himself an incarnation of it, then he is fit\nto attempt the great step which is absolutely\npossible, yet is attempted by so few even of\nthose who are fitted for it. It is so seldom\nattempted, partly because of the profound difficulties\nwhich surround it, but much more\nbecause man does not realize that this is actually\nthe direction in which pleasure and\nsatisfaction are to be obtained.\n\nThere are certain pleasures which appeal\nto each individual; every man knows that in\none layer or another of sensation he finds his\nchief delight. Naturally he turns to this systematically\nthrough life, just as the sunflower\nturns to the sun and the water-lily leans on the\nwater. But he struggles throughout with an\nawful fact which oppresses him to the soul,--that\nno sooner has he obtained his pleasure\nthan he loses it again and has once more to\ngo in search of it. More than that; he never\nactually reaches it, for it eludes him at the\nfinal moment. This is because he endeavors to\nseize that which is untouchable and satisfy\nhis soul's hunger for sensation by contact with\nexternal objects. How can that which is\nexternal satisfy or even please the inner man,--the\nthing which reigns within and has no\neyes for matter, no hands for touch of objects,\nno senses with which to apprehend that which\nis outside its magic walls? Those charmed\nbarriers which surround it are limitless, for\nit is everywhere; it is to be discovered in all\nliving things, and no part of the universe can\nbe conceived of without it, if that universe is\nregarded as a coherent whole. And unless that\npoint is granted at the outset it is useless to\nconsider the subject of life at all. Life is indeed\nmeaningless unless it is universal and coherent,\nand unless we maintain our existence by\nreason of the fact that we are part of that\nwhich is, not by reason of our own being.\n\nThis is one of the most important factors\nin the development of man, the recognition--profound\nand complete recognition--of the\nlaw of universal unity and coherence. The\nseparation which exists between individuals,\nbetween worlds, between the different poles of\nthe universe and of life, the mental and\nphysical fantasy called space, is a nightmare\nof the human imagination. That nightmares\nexist, and exist only to torment, every child\nknows; and what we need is the power of\ndiscrimination between the phantasmagoria of\nthe brain, which concern ourselves only, and\nthe phantasmagoria of daily life, in which\nothers also are concerned. This rule applies\nalso to the larger case. It concerns no one\nbut ourselves that we live in a nightmare of\nunreal horror, and fancy ourselves alone in\nthe universe and capable of independent\naction, so long as our associates are those\nonly who are a part of the dream; but when\nwe desire to speak with those who have tried\nthe Golden Gates and pushed them open, then\nit is very necessary--in fact it is essential--to\ndiscriminate, and not bring into our life the\nconfusions of our sleep. If we do, we are\nreckoned as madmen, and fall back into the\ndarkness where there is no friend but chaos.\nThis chaos has followed every effort of man\nthat is written in history; after civilization has\nflowered, the flower falls and dies, and winter\nand darkness destroy it. While man refuses\nto make the effort of discrimination which\nwould enable him to distinguish between the\nshapes of night and the active figures of day,\nthis must inevitably happen.\n\nBut if man has the courage to resist this\nreactionary tendency, to stand steadily on the\nheight he has reached and put out his foot in\nsearch of yet another step, why should he\nnot find it? There is nothing to make one\nsuppose the pathway to end at a certain point,\nexcept that tradition which has declared it is\nso, and which men have accepted and hug to\nthemselves as a justification for their indolence.\n\n\n\n\nVI\n\n\nIndolence is, in fact, the curse of man. As\nthe Irish peasant and the cosmopolitan gypsy\ndwell in dirt and poverty out of sheer idleness,\nso does the man of the world live contented\nin sensuous pleasures for the same reason. The\ndrinking of fine wines, the tasting of delicate\nfood, the love of bright sights and sounds, of\nbeautiful women and admirable surroundings,--these\nare no better for the cultivated man,\nno more satisfactory as a final goal of enjoyment\nfor him, than the coarse amusements and\ngratifications of the boor are for the man\nwithout cultivation. There can be no final\npoint, for life in every form is one vast series\nof fine gradations; and the man who elects to\nstand still at the point of culture he has\nreached, and to avow that he can go no\nfurther, is simply making an arbitrary statement\nfor the excuse of his indolence. Of course\nthere is a possibility of declaring that the gypsy\nis content in his dirt and poverty, and, because\nhe is so, is as great a man as the most highly\ncultured. But he only is so while he is ignorant;\nthe moment light enters the dim mind the\nwhole man turns towards it. So it is on the\nhigher platform; only the difficulty of penetrating\nthe mind, of admitting the light, is even\ngreater. The Irish peasant loves his whiskey,\nand while he can have it cares nothing for the\ngreat laws of morality and religion which are\nsupposed to govern humanity and induce men\nto live temperately. The cultivated gourmand\ncares only for subtle tastes and perfect flavors;\nbut he is as blind as the merest peasant to the\nfact that there is anything beyond such gratifications.\nLike the boor he is deluded by a\nmirage that oppresses his soul; and he fancies,\nhaving once obtained a sensuous joy that\npleases him, to give himself the utmost satisfaction\nby endless repetition, till at last he\nreaches madness. The bouquet of the wine he\nloves enters his soul and poisons it, leaving\nhim with no thoughts but those of sensuous\ndesire; and he is in the same hopeless state\nas the man who dies mad with drink. What\ngood has the drunkard obtained by his\nmadness? None; pain has at last swallowed\nup pleasure utterly, and death steps in to\nterminate the agony. The man suffers the final\npenalty for his persistent ignorance of a law\nof nature as inexorable as that of gravitation,--a\nlaw which forbids a man to stand still.\nNot twice can the same cup of pleasure be\ntasted; the second time it must contain either\na grain of poison or a drop of the elixir of life.\n\nThe same argument holds good with regard\nto intellectual pleasures; the same law operates.\nWe see men who are the flower of their\nage in intellect, who pass beyond their fellows\nand tower over them, entering at last upon a\nfatal treadmill of thought, where they yield\nto the innate indolence of the soul and begin\nto delude themselves by the solace of repetition.\nThen comes the barrenness and lack of\nvitality,--that unhappy and disappointing\nstate into which great men too often enter\nwhen middle life is just passed. The fire of\nyouth, the vigor of the young intellect, conquers\nthe inner inertia and makes the man\nscale heights of thought and fill his mental\nlungs with the free air of the mountains. But\nthen at last the physical reaction sets in; the\nphysical machinery of the brain loses its powerful\nimpetus and begins to relax its efforts,\nsimply because the youth of the body is at an\nend. Now the man is assailed by the great\ntempter of the race who stands forever on the\nladder of life waiting for those who climb so\nfar. He drops the poisoned drop into the ear,\nand from that moment all consciousness takes\non a dulness, and the man becomes terrified\nlest life is losing its possibilities for him. He\nrushes back on to a familiar platform of\nexperience, and there finds comfort in touching\na well-known chord of passion or emotion.\nAnd too many having done this linger on,\nafraid to attempt the unknown, and satisfied to\ntouch continually that chord which responds\nmost readily. By this means they get the assurance\nthat life is still burning within them.\nBut at last their fate is the same as that of the\ngourmand and the drunkard. The power of\nthe spell lessens daily as the machinery which\nfeels loses its vitality; and the man endeavors\nto revive the old excitement and fervor by\nstriking the note more violently, by hugging\nthe thing that makes him feel, by drinking\nthe cup of poison to its fatal dregs. And then\nhe is lost; madness falls on his soul, as it\nfalls on the body of the drunkard. Life has no\nlonger any meaning for him, and he rushes\nwildly into the abysses of intellectual insanity.\nA lesser man who commits this great folly\nwearies the spirits of others by a dull clinging\nto familiar thought, by a persistent hugging of\nthe treadmill which he asserts to be the final\ngoal. The cloud that surrounds him is as fatal\nas death itself, and men who once sat at his\nfeet turn away grieved, and have to look back\nat his early words in order to remember his\ngreatness.\n\n\n\n\nVII\n\n\nWhat is the cure for this misery and waste\nof effort? Is there one? Surely life itself has\na logic in it and a law which makes existence\npossible; otherwise chaos and madness would\nbe the only state which would be attainable.\nWhen a man drinks his first cup of pleasure\nhis soul is filled with the unutterable joy that\ncomes with a first, a fresh sensation. The drop\nof poison that he puts into the second cup, and\nwhich, if he persists in that folly, has to become\ndoubled and trebled till at last the whole cup\nis poison,--that is the ignorant desire for\nrepetition and intensification; this evidently\nmeans death, according to all analogy. The\nchild becomes the man; he cannot retain his\nchildhood and repeat and intensify the pleasures\nof childhood except by paying the\ninevitable price and becoming an idiot. The\nplant strikes its roots into the ground and\nthrows up green leaves; then it blossoms and\nbears fruit. That plant which will only make\nroots or leaves, pausing persistently in its development,\nis regarded by the gardener as a thing\nwhich is useless and must be cast out.\n\nThe man who chooses the way of effort,\nand refuses to allow the sleep of indolence to\ndull his soul, finds in his pleasures a new and\nfiner joy each time he tastes them,--a something\nsubtile and remote which removes them\nmore and more from the state in which mere\nsensuousness is all; this subtile essence is that\nelixir of life which makes man immortal. He\nwho tastes it and who will not drink unless it\nis in the cup finds life enlarge and the world\ngrow great before his eager eyes. He recognises\nthe soul within the woman he loves, and\npassion becomes peace; he sees within his\nthought the finer qualities of spiritual truth,\nwhich is beyond the action of our mental machinery,\nand then instead of entering on the\ntreadmill of intellectualisms he rests on the\nbroad back of the eagle of intuition and soars\ninto the fine air where the great poets found\ntheir insight; he sees within his own power of\nsensation, of pleasure in fresh air and sunshine,\nin food and wine, in motion and rest, the possibilities\nof the subtile man, the thing which\ndies not either with the body or the brain. The\npleasures of art, of music, of light and loveliness,--within\nthese forms, which men repeat\ntill they find only the forms, he sees the glory\nof the Gates of Gold, and passes through to\nfind the new life beyond which intoxicates and\nstrengthens, as the keen mountain air intoxicates\nand strengthens, by its very vigor. But\nif he has been pouring, drop by drop, more\nand more of the elixir of life into his cup, he\nis strong enough to breathe this intense air and\nto live upon it. Then if he die or if he live in\nphysical form, alike he goes on and finds new\nand finer joys, more perfect and satisfying\nexperiences, with every breath he draws in and\ngives out.\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nTHE MYSTERY OF THRESHOLD\n\nI\n\n\nThere is no doubt that at the entrance on\na new phase of life something has to be given\nup. The child, when it has become the man,\nputs away childish things. Saint Paul showed\nin these words, and in many others which he\nhas left us, that he had tasted of the elixir of\nlife, that he was on his way towards the Gates\nof Gold. With each drop of the divine draught\nwhich is put into the cup of pleasure something\nis purged away from that cup to make room\nfor the magic drop. For Nature deals with\nher children generously: man's cup is always\nfull to the brim; and if he chooses to taste\nof the fine and life-giving essence, he must\ncast away something of the grosser and less\nsensitive part of himself. This has to be done\ndaily, hourly, momently, in order that the\ndraught of life may steadily increase. And to\ndo this unflinchingly, a man must be his own\nschoolmaster, must recognise that he is always\nin need of wisdom, must be ready to practise\nany austerities, to use the birch-rod unhesitatingly\nagainst himself, in order to gain his\nend. It becomes evident to any one who regards\nthe subject seriously, that only a man who has\nthe potentialities in him both of the voluptuary\nand the stoic has any chance of entering\nthe Golden Gates. He must be capable of\ntesting and valuing to its most delicate fraction\nevery joy existence has to give; and he must\nbe capable of denying himself all pleasure, and\nthat without suffering from the denial. When\nhe has accomplished the development of this\ndouble possibility, then he is able to begin\nsifting his pleasures and taking away from his\nconsciousness those which belong absolutely to\nthe man of clay. When those are put back,\nthere is the next range of more refined pleasures\nto be dealt with. The dealing with these\nwhich will enable a man to find the essence of\nlife is not the method pursued by the stoic\nphilosopher. The stoic does not allow that\nthere is joy within pleasure, and by denying\nhimself the one loses the other. But the true\nphilosopher, who has studied life itself without\nbeing bound by any system of thought, sees\nthat the kernel is within the shell, and that,\ninstead of crunching up the whole nut like\na gross and indifferent feeder, the essence of\nthe thing is obtained by cracking the shell and\ncasting it away. All emotion, all sensation,\nlends itself to this process, else it could not be\na part of man's development, an essential of\nhis nature. For that there is before him power,\nlife, perfection, and that every portion of his\npassage thitherwards is crowded with the means\nof helping him to his goal, can only be denied\nby those who refuse to acknowledge life as\napart from matter. Their mental position is so\nabsolutely arbitrary that it is useless to encounter\nor combat it. Through all time the unseen\nhas been pressing on the seen, the immaterial\noverpowering the material; through all time\nthe signs and tokens of that which is beyond\nmatter have been waiting for the men of\nmatter to test and weigh them. Those who\nwill not do so have chosen the place of pause\narbitrarily, and there is nothing to be done\nbut let them remain there undisturbed, working\nthat treadmill which they believe to be the\nutmost activity of existence.\n\n\n\n\nII\n\n\nThere is no doubt that a man must educate\nhimself to perceive that which is beyond matter,\njust as he must educate himself to perceive\nthat which is in matter. Every one knows that\nthe early life of a child is one long process\nof adjustment, of learning to understand the\nuse of the senses with regard to their special\nprovinces, and of practice in the exercise of\ndifficult, complex, yet imperfect organs entirely\nin reference to the perception of the world of\nmatter. The child is in earnest and works on\nwithout hesitation if he means to live. Some\ninfants born into the light of earth shrink from\nit, and refuse to attack the immense task which\nis before them, and which must be accomplished\nin order to make life in matter possible.\nThese go back to the ranks of the unborn;\nwe see them lay down their manifold instrument,\nthe body, and fade into sleep. So it is\nwith the great crowd of humanity when it has\ntriumphed and conquered and enjoyed in the\nworld of matter. The individuals in that\ncrowd, which seems so powerful and confident\nin its familiar demesne, are infants in the\npresence of the immaterial universe. And we\nsee them, on all sides, daily and hourly, refusing\nto enter it, sinking back into the ranks of\nthe dwellers in physical life, clinging to the\nconsciousnesses they have experienced and\nunderstand. The intellectual rejection of all\npurely spiritual knowledge is the most marked\nindication of this indolence, of which thinkers\nof every standing are certainly guilty.\n\nThat the initial effort is a heavy one is\nevident, and it is clearly a question of strength,\nas well as of willing activity. But there is\nno way of acquiring this strength, or of using\nit when acquired, except by the exercise of the\nwill. It is vain to expect to be born into great\npossessions. In the kingdom of life there is no\nheredity except from the man's own past. He\nhas to accumulate that which is his. This is\nevident to any observer of life who uses his\neyes without blinding them by prejudice; and\neven when prejudice is present, it is impossible\nfor a man of sense not to perceive the fact. It\nis from this that we get the doctrine of punishment\nand salvation, either lasting through great\nages after death, or eternal. This doctrine is a\nnarrow and unintelligent mode of stating the\nfact in Nature that what a man sows that shall\nhe reap. Swedenborg's great mind saw the fact\nso clearly that he hardened it into a finality in\nreference to this particular existence, his prejudices\nmaking it impossible for him to perceive\nthe possibility of new action when there is no\nlonger the sensuous world to act in. He was too\ndogmatic for scientific observation, and would\nnot see that, as the spring follows the autumn,\nand the day the night, so birth must follow\ndeath. He went very near the threshold of the\nGates of Gold, and passed beyond mere intellectualism,\nonly to pause at a point but one\nstep farther. The glimpse of the life beyond\nwhich he had obtained appeared to him to\ncontain the universe; and on his fragment of\nexperience he built up a theory to include all\nlife, and refused progress beyond that state\nor any possibility outside it. This is only\nanother form of the weary treadmill. But\nSwedenborg stands foremost in the crowd of\nwitnesses to the fact that the Golden Gates\nexist and can be seen from the heights of\nthought, and he has cast us a faint surge of\nsensation from their threshold.\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\n\nWhen once one has considered the meaning\nof those Gates, it is evident that there is\nno other way out of this form of life except\nthrough them. They only can admit man to\nthe place where he becomes the fruit of which\nmanhood is the blossom. Nature is the kindest\nof mothers to those who need her; she never\nwearies of her children or desires them to lessen\nin multitude. Her friendly arms open wide to\nthe vast throng who desire birth and to dwell\nin forms; and while they continue to desire\nit, she continues to smile a welcome. Why,\nthen, should she shut her doors on any? When\none life in her heart has not worn out a hundredth\npart of the soul's longing for sensation\nsuch as it finds there, what reason can there\nbe for its departure to any other place? Surely\nthe seeds of desire spring up where the sower\nhas sown them. This seems but reasonable; and\non this apparently self-evident fact the Indian\nmind has based its theory of re-incarnation, of\nbirth and re-birth in matter, which has become\nso familiar a part of Eastern thought as no\nlonger to need demonstration. The Indian\nknows it as the Western knows that the day\nhe is living through is but one of many days\nwhich make up the span of a man's life. This\ncertainty which is possessed by the Eastern with\nregard to natural laws that control the great\nsweep of the soul's existence is simply acquired\nby habits of thought. The mind of many is\nfixed on subjects which in the West are considered\nunthinkable. Thus it is that the East\nhas produced the great flowers of the spiritual\ngrowth of humanity. On the mental steps of a\nmillion men Buddha passed through the Gates\nof Gold; and because a great crowd pressed\nabout the threshold he was able to leave behind\nhim words which prove that those Gates\nwill open.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nTHE INITIAL EFFORT\n\nI\n\n\nIt is very easily seen that there is no one\npoint in a man's life or experience where he\nis nearer the soul of things than at any other.\nThat soul, the sublime essence, which fills the\nair with a burnished glow, is there, behind the\nGates it colors with itself. But that there is no\none pathway to it is immediately perceived\nfrom the fact that this soul must from its very\nnature be universal. The Gates of Gold do\nnot admit to any special place; what they do\nis to open for egress from a special place.\nMan passes through them when he casts off\nhis limitation. He may burst the shell that\nholds him in darkness, tear the veil that hides\nhim from the eternal, at any point where it is\neasiest for him to do so, and most often this\npoint will be where he least expects to find it.\nMen go in search of escape with the help of\ntheir minds, and lay down arbitrary and limited\nlaws as to how to attain the, to them, unattainable.\nMany, indeed, have hoped to pass\nthrough by the way of religion, and instead they\nhave formed a place of thought and feeling so\nmarked and fixed that it seems as though long\nages would be insufficient to enable them to\nget out of the rut! Some have believed that\nby the aid of pure intellect a way was to be\nfound; and to such men we owe the philosophy\nand metaphysics which have prevented the race\nfrom sinking into utter sensuousness. But the\nend of the man who endeavors to live by\nthought alone is that he dwells in fantasies,\nand insists on giving them to other men as\nsubstantial food. Great is our debt to the meta-physicians\nand transcendentalists; but he who\nfollows them to the bitter end, forgetting that\nthe brain is only one organ of use, will find\nhimself dwelling in a place where a dull\nwheel of argument seems to turn forever on\nits axis, yet goes nowhither and carries no\nburden.\n\nVirtue (or what seems to each man to be\nvirtue, his own special standard of morality\nand purity) is held by those who practise it to\nbe a way to heaven. Perhaps it is, to the heaven\nof the modern sybarite, the ethical voluptuary.\nIt is as easy to become a gourmand in pure\nliving and high thinking as in the pleasures of\ntaste or sight or sound. Gratification is the\naim of the virtuous man as well as of the drunkard;\neven if his life be a miracle of abstinence\nand self-sacrifice, a moment's thought shows\nthat in pursuing this apparently heroic path he\ndoes but pursue pleasure. With him pleasure\ntakes on a lovely form because his gratifications\nare those of a sweet savor, and it pleases him\nto give gladness to others rather than to enjoy\nhimself at their expense. But the pure life and\nhigh thoughts are no more finalities in themselves\nthan any other mode of enjoyment; and\nthe man who endeavors to find contentment\nin them must intensify his effort and continually\nrepeat it,--all in vain. He is a green\nplant indeed, and the leaves are beautiful; but\nmore is wanted than leaves. If he persists in\nhis endeavor blindly, believing that he has\nreached his goal when he has not even perceived\nit, then he finds himself in that dreary\nplace where good is done perforce, and the\ndeed of virtue is without the love that should\nshine through it. It is well for a man to lead\na pure life, as it is well for him to have clean\nhands,--else he becomes repugnant. But\nvirtue as we understand it now can no more\nhave any special relation to the state beyond\nthat to which we are limited than any other\npart of our constitution. Spirit is not a gas\ncreated by matter, and we cannot create our\nfuture by forcibly using one material agent\nand leaving out the rest. Spirit is the great life\non which matter rests, as does the rocky world\non the free and fluid ether; whenever we can\nbreak our limitations we find ourselves on that\nmarvellous shore where Wordsworth once saw\nthe gleam of the gold. When we enter there\nall the present must disappear alike,--virtue\nand vice, thought and sense. That a man reaps\nwhat he has sown must of course be true also;\nhe has no power to carry virtue, which is of the\nmaterial life, with him; yet the aroma of his\ngood deeds is a far sweeter sacrifice than the\nodor of crime and cruelty. Yet it may be,\nhowever, that by the practice of virtue he will\nfetter himself into one groove, one changeless\nfashion of life in matter, so firmly that it is\nimpossible for the mind to conceive that death\nis a sufficient power to free him, and cast him\nupon the broad and glorious ocean,--a sufficient\npower to undo for him the inexorable\nand heavy latch of the Golden Gate. And\nsometimes the man who has sinned so deeply\nthat his whole nature is scarred and blackened\nby the fierce fire of selfish gratification is at\nlast so utterly burned out and charred that\nfrom the very vigor of the passion light leaps\nforth. It would seem more possible for such\na man at least to reach the threshold of the\nGates than for the mere ascetic or philosopher.\n\nBut it is little use to reach the threshold of\nthe Gates without the power to pass through.\nAnd that is all that the sinner can hope to\ndo by the dissolution of himself which comes\nfrom seeing his own soul. At least this appears\nto be so, inevitably because his condition is\nnegative. The man who lifts the latch of the\nGolden Gate must do so with his own strong\nhand, must be absolutely positive. This we can\nsee by analogy. In everything else in life, in\nevery new step or development, it is necessary\nfor a man to exercise his most dominant will\nin order to obtain it fully. Indeed in many\ncases, though he has every advantage and\nthough he use his will to some extent, he will\nfail utterly of obtaining what he desires from\nlack of the final and unconquerable resolution.\nNo education in the world will make a man\nan intellectual glory to his age, even if his\npowers are great; for unless he positively\ndesires to seize the flower of perfection, he will\nbe but a dry scholar, a dealer in words, a proficient\nin mechanical thought, and a mere wheel\nof memory. And the man who has this positive\nquality in him will rise in spite of adverse circumstances,\nwill recognise and seize upon the\ntide of thought which is his natural food, and\nwill stand as a giant at last in the place he\nwilled to reach. We see this practically every\nday in all walks of life. Wherefore it does not\nseem possible that the man who has simply\nsucceeded through the passions in wrecking the\ndogmatic and narrow part of his nature should\npass through those great Gates. But as he is\nnot blinded by prejudice, nor has fastened\nhimself to any treadmill of thought, nor\ncaught the wheel of his soul in any deep rut\nof life, it would seem that if once the positive\nwill might be born within him, he could at\nsome time not hopelessly far distant lift his\nhand to the latch.\n\nUndoubtedly it is the hardest task we have\nyet seen set us in life, that which we are now\ntalking of,--to free a man of all prejudice,\nof all crystallized thought or feeling, of all\nlimitations, yet develop within him the positive\nwill. It seems too much of a miracle; for in\nordinary life positive will is always associated\nwith crystallized ideas. But many things which\nhave appeared to be too much of a miracle for\naccomplishment have yet been done, even in\nthe narrow experience of life given to our\npresent humanity. All the past shows us that\ndifficulty is no excuse for dejection, much less\nfor despair; else the world would have been\nwithout the many wonders of civilization. Let\nus consider the thing more seriously, therefore,\nhaving once used our minds to the idea\nthat it is not impossible.\n\nThe great initial difficulty is that of fastening\nthe interest on that which is unseen. Yet,\nthis is done every day, and we have only to\nobserve how it is done in order to guide our\nown conduct. Every inventor fastens his interest\nfirmly on the unseen; and it entirely\ndepends on the firmness of that attachment\nwhether he is successful or whether he fails.\nThe poet who looks on to his moment of\ncreation as that for which he lives, sees that\nwhich is invisible and hears that which is\nsoundless.\n\nProbably in this last analogy there is a\nclew as to the mode by which success in this\nvoyage to the unknown bourn (\"whence,\"\nindeed, \"no traveller returns\") is attained. It\napplies also to the inventor and to all who\nreach out beyond the ordinary mental and\npsychical level of humanity. The clew lies in\nthat word \"creation.\"\n\n\n\n\nII\n\n\nThe words \"to create\" are often understood\nby the ordinary mind to convey the idea of\nevolving something out of nothing. This is\nclearly not its meaning; we are mentally obliged\nto provide our Creator with chaos from which\nto produce the worlds. The tiller of the soil,\nwho is the typical producer of social life, must\nhave his material, his earth, his sky, rain, and\nsun, and the seeds to place within the earth.\nOut of nothing he can produce nothing. Out\nof a void Nature cannot arise; there is that\nmaterial beyond, behind, or within, from which\nshe is shaped by our desire for a universe. It\nis an evident fact that the seeds and the earth,\nair, and water which cause them to germinate\nexist on every plane of action. If you talk to\nan inventor, you will find that far ahead of\nwhat he is now doing he can always perceive\nsome other thing to be done which he cannot\nexpress in words because as yet he has not\ndrawn it into our present world of objects.\nThat knowledge of the unseen is even more\ndefinite in the poet, and more inexpressible\nuntil he has touched it with some part of that\nconsciousness which he shares with other men.\nBut in strict proportion to his greatness he\nlives in the consciousness which the ordinary\nman does not even believe can exist,--the\nconsciousness which dwells in the greater\nuniverse, which breathes in the vaster air, which\nbeholds a wider earth and sky, and snatches\nseeds from plants of giant growth.\n\nIt is this place of consciousness that we\nneed to reach out to. That it is not reserved\nonly for men of genius is shown by the fact\nthat martyrs and heroes have found it and\ndwelt in it. It is not reserved for men of genius\nonly, but it can only be found by men of\ngreat soul.\n\nIn this fact there is no need for discouragement.\nGreatness in man is popularly supposed\nto be a thing inborn. This belief must be a\nresult of want of thought, of blindness to facts\nof nature. Greatness can only be attained by\ngrowth; that is continually demonstrated to us.\nEven the mountains, even the firm globe itself,\nthese are great by dint of the mode of growth\npeculiar to that state of materiality,--accumulation\nof atoms. As the consciousness inherent\nin all existing forms passes into more\nadvanced forms of life it becomes more active,\nand in proportion it acquires the power\nof growth by assimilation instead of accumulation.\nLooking at existence from this special\npoint of view (which indeed is a difficult one\nto maintain for long, as we habitually look\nat life in planes and forget the great lines\nwhich connect and run through these), we\nimmediately perceive it to be reasonable to\nsuppose that as we advance beyond our present\nstandpoint the power of growth by assimilation\nwill become greater and probably change into\na method yet more rapid, easy, and unconscious.\nThe universe is, in fact, full of magnificent\npromise for us, if we will but lift our\neyes and see. It is that lifting of the eyes\nwhich is the first need and the first difficulty;\nwe are so apt readily to be content with\nwhat we see within touch of our hands. It is\nthe essential characteristic of the man of genius\nthat he is comparatively indifferent to that\nfruit which is just within touch, and hungers\nfor that which is afar on the hills. In fact\nhe does not need the sense of contact to arouse\nlonging. He knows that this distant fruit,\nwhich he perceives without the aid of the\nphysical senses, is a subtler and a stronger\nfood than any which appeals to them. And\nhow is he rewarded! When he tastes that\nfruit, how strong and sweet is its flavor, and\nwhat a new sense of life rushes upon him!\nFor in recognising that flavor he has recognised\nthe existence of the subtile senses, those\nwhich feed the life of the inner man; and it is\nby the strength of that inner man, and by his\nstrength only, that the latch of the Golden\nGates can be lifted.\n\nIn fact it is only by the development and\ngrowth of the inner man that the existence\nof these Gates, and of that to which they\nadmit, can be even perceived. While man is\ncontent with his gross senses and cares nothing\nfor his subtile ones, the Gates remain literally\ninvisible. As to the boor the gateway of the\nintellectual life is as a thing uncreate and\nnon-existent, so to the man of the gross senses,\neven if his intellectual life is active, that which\nlies beyond is uncreate and non-existent, only\nbecause he does not open the book.\n\nTo the servant who dusts the scholar's\nlibrary the closed volumes are meaningless;\nthey do not even appear to contain a promise\nunless he also is a scholar, not merely a servant.\nIt is possible to gaze throughout eternity\nupon a shut exterior from sheer indolence,--mental\nindolence, which is incredulity, and\nwhich at last men learn to pride themselves\non; they call it scepticism, and talk of the reign\nof reason. It is no more a state to justify pride\nthan that of the Eastern sybarite who will not\neven lift his food to his mouth; he is \"reasonable\"\nalso in that he sees no value in activity,\nand therefore does not exercise it. So with the\nsceptic; decay follows the condition of inaction,\nwhether it be mental, psychic, or physical.\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\n\nAnd now let us consider how the initial\ndifficulty of fastening the interest on that\nwhich is unseen is to be overcome. Our gross\nsenses refer only to that which is objective in\nthe ordinary sense of the word; but just beyond\nthis field of life there are finer sensations\nwhich appeal to finer senses. Here we find\nthe first clew to the stepping-stones we need.\nMan looks from this point of view like a point\nwhere many rays or lines centre; and if he\nhas the courage or the interest to detach himself\nfrom the simplest form of life, the point, and\nexplore but a little way along these lines or\nrays, his whole being at once inevitably widens\nand expands, the man begins to grow in greatness.\nBut it is evident, if we accept this illustration\nas a fairly true one, that the chief\npoint of importance is to explore no more\npersistently on one line than another: else the\nresult must be a deformity. We all know how\npowerful is the majesty and personal dignity\nof a forest tree which has had air enough to\nbreathe, and room for its widening roots, and\ninner vitality with which to accomplish its\nunceasing task. It obeys the perfect natural\nlaw of growth, and the peculiar awe it inspires\narises from this fact.\n\nHow is it possible to obtain recognition of\nthe inner man, to observe its growth and\nfoster it?\n\nLet us try to follow a little way the clew\nwe have obtained, though words will probably\nsoon be useless.\n\nWe must each travel alone and without\naids, as the traveller has to climb alone when\nhe nears the summit of the mountain. No beast\nof burden can help him there; neither can the\ngross senses or anything that touches the gross\nsenses help him here. But for a little distance\nwords may go with us.\n\nThe tongue recognises the value of sweetness\nor piquancy in food. To the man whose\nsenses are of the simplest order there is no\nother idea of sweetness than this. But a finer\nessence, a more highly placed sensation of the\nsame order, is reached by another perception.\nThe sweetness on the face of a lovely woman,\nor in the smile of a friend, is recognised by\nthe man whose inner senses have even a little--a\nmere stirring of--vitality. To the one\nwho has lifted the golden latch the spring of\nsweet waters, the fountain itself whence all\nsoftness arises, is opened and becomes part of\nhis heritage.\n\nBut before this fountain can be tasted, or\nany other spring reached, any source found, a\nheavy weight has to be lifted from the heart,\nan iron bar which holds it down and prevents\nit from arising in its strength.\n\nThe man who recognises the flow of sweetness\nfrom its source through Nature, through\nall forms of life, he has lifted this, he has\nraised himself into that state in which there is\nno bondage. He knows that he is a part of\nthe great whole, and it is this knowledge which\nis his heritage. It is through the breaking\nasunder of the arbitrary bond which holds him\nto his personal centre that he comes of age\nand becomes ruler of his kingdom. As he\nwidens out, reaching by manifold experience\nalong those lines which centre at the point\nwhere he stands embodied, he discovers that\nhe has touch with all life, that he contains\nwithin himself the whole. And then he has\nbut to yield himself to the great force which\nwe call good, to clasp it tightly with the grasp\nof his soul, and he is carried swiftly on to the\ngreat, wide waters of real living. What are\nthose waters? In our present life we have but\nthe shadow of the substance. No man loves\nwithout satiety, no man drinks wine without\nreturn of thirst. Hunger and longing darken\nthe sky and make the earth unfriendly. What\nwe need is an earth that will bear living fruit,\na sky that will be always full of light.\nNeeding this positively, we shall surely find it.\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nTHE MEANING OF PAIN\n\nI\n\n\nLook into the deep heart of life, whence\npain comes to darken men's lives. She is always\non the threshold, and behind her stands\ndespair.\n\nWhat are these two gaunt figures, and\nwhy are they permitted to be our constant\nfollowers?\n\nIt is we who permit them, we who order\nthem, as we permit and order the action of our\nbodies; and we do so as unconsciously. But\nby scientific experiment and investigation we\nhave learned much about our physical life, and\nit would seem as if we can obtain at least as\nmuch result with regard to our inner life by\nadopting similar methods.\n\nPain arouses, softens, breaks, and destroys.\nRegarded from a sufficiently removed standpoint,\nit appears as medicine, as a knife, as a\nweapon, as a poison, in turn. It is an implement,\na thing which is used, evidently. What\nwe desire to discover is, who is the user; what\npart of ourselves is it that demands the\npresence of this thing so hateful to the rest?\n\nMedicine is used by the physician, the knife\nby the surgeon; but the weapon of destruction\nis used by the enemy, the hater.\n\nIs it, then, that we do not only use means,\nor desire to use means, for the benefit of our\nsouls, but that also we wage warfare within\nourselves, and do battle in the inner sanctuary?\nIt would seem so; for it is certain that if man's\nwill relaxed with regard to it he would no\nlonger retain life in that state in which pain\nexists. Why does he desire his own hurt?\n\nThe answer may at first sight seem to be\nthat he primarily desires pleasure, and so is\nwilling to continue on that battlefield where\nit wages war with pain for the possession of\nhim, hoping always that pleasure will win the\nvictory and take him home to herself. This is\nbut the external aspect of the man's state. In\nhimself he knows well that pain is co-ruler\nwith pleasure, and that though the war wages\nalways it never will be won. The superficial\nobserver concludes that man submits to the\ninevitable. But that is a fallacy not worthy\nof discussion. A little serious thought shows\nus that man does not exist at all except by\nexercise of his positive qualities; it is but\nlogical to suppose that he chooses the state\nhe will live in by the exercise of those same\nqualities.\n\nGranted, then, for the sake of our argument,\nthat he desires pain, why is it that he\ndesires anything so annoying to himself?\n\n\nII\n\nIf we carefully consider the constitution of\nman and its tendencies, it would seem as if\nthere were two definite directions in which he\ngrows. He is like a tree which strikes its roots\ninto the ground while it throws up young\nbranches towards the heavens. These two lines\nwhich go outward from the central personal\npoint are to him clear, definite, and intelligible.\nHe calls one good and the other evil. But\nman is not, according to any analogy, observation,\nor experience, a straight line. Would\nthat he were, and that life, or progress, or\ndevelopment, or whatever we choose to call it,\nmeant merely following one straight road or\nanother, as the religionists pretend it does.\nThe whole question, the mighty problem,\nwould be very easily solved then. But it is not\nso easy to go to hell as preachers declare it\nto be. It is as hard a task as to find one's\nway to the Golden Gate! A man may wreck\nhimself utterly in sense-pleasure,--may debase\nhis whole nature, as it seems,--yet he fails\nof becoming the perfect devil, for there is still\nthe spark of divine light within him. He tries\nto choose the broad road which leads to\ndestruction, and enters bravely on his headlong\ncareer. But very soon he is checked and\nstartled by some unthought-of tendency in\nhimself,--some of the many other radiations\nwhich go forth from his centre of self. He\nsuffers as the body suffers when it develops\nmonstrosities which impede its healthy action.\nHe has created pain, and encountered his own\ncreation. It may seem as if this argument is\ndifficult of application with regard to physical\npain. Not so, if man is regarded from a loftier\nstandpoint than that we generally occupy. If\nhe is looked upon as a powerful consciousness\nwhich forms its external manifestations according\nto its desires, then it is evident that physical\npain results from deformity in those desires.\nNo doubt it will appear to many minds that\nthis conception of man is too gratuitous, and\ninvolves too large a mental leap into unknown\nplaces where proof is unobtainable. But if the\nmind is accustomed to look upon life from\nthis standpoint, then very soon none other is\nacceptable; the threads of existence, which\nto the purely materialistic observer appear\nhopelessly entangled, become separated and\nstraightened, so that a new intelligibleness\nillumines the universe. The arbitrary and cruel\nCreator who inflicts pain and pleasure at will\nthen disappears from the stage; and it is well,\nfor he is indeed an unnecessary character, and,\nworse still, is a mere creature of straw, who\ncannot even strut upon the boards without\nbeing upheld on all sides by dogmatists. Man\ncomes into this world, surely, on the same\nprinciple that he lives in one city of the earth\nor another; at all events, if it is too much to\nsay that this is so, one may safely ask, why is\nit not so? There is neither for nor against\nwhich will appeal to the materialist, or which\nwould weigh in a court of justice; but I aver\nthis in favor of the argument,--that no man\nhaving once seriously considered it can go back\nto the formal theories of the sceptics. It is\nlike putting on swaddling-clothes again.\n\nGranting, then, for the sake of this argument,\nthat man is a powerful consciousness\nwho is his own creator, his own judge, and\nwithin whom lies all life in potentiality, even\nthe ultimate goal, then let us consider why he\ncauses himself to suffer.\n\nIf pain is the result of uneven development,\nof monstrous growths, of defective\nadvance at different points, why does man not\nlearn the lesson which this should teach him,\nand take pains to develop equally?\n\nIt would seem to me as if the answer to\nthis question is that this is the very lesson\nwhich the human race is engaged in learning.\nPerhaps this may seem too bold a statement\nto make in the face of ordinary thinking,\nwhich either regards man as a creature of\nchance dwelling in chaos, or as a soul bound\nto the inexorable wheel of a tyrant's chariot\nand hurried on either to heaven or to hell. But\nsuch a mode of thought is after all but the\nsame as that of the child who regards his\nparents as the final arbiters of his destinies,\nand in fact the gods or demons of his universe.\nAs he grows he casts aside this idea, finding\nthat it is simply a question of coming of age,\nand that he is himself the king of life like any\nother man.\n\nSo it is with the human race. It is king of\nits world, arbiter of its own destiny, and there\nis none to say it nay. Who talk of Providence\nand chance have not paused to think.\n\nDestiny, the inevitable, does indeed exist\nfor the race and for the individual; but who\ncan ordain this save the man himself? There\nis no clew in heaven or earth to the existence\nof any ordainer other than the man who suffers\nor enjoys that which is ordained. We know\nso little of our own constitution, we are so\nignorant of our divine functions, that it is\nimpossible for us yet to know how much or\nhow little we are actually fate itself. But this\nat all events we know,--that so far as any\nprovable perception goes, no clew to the\nexistence of an ordainer has yet been discovered;\nwhereas if we give but a very little\nattention to the life about us in order to\nobserve the action of the man upon his own\nfuture, we soon perceive this power as an\nactual force in operation. It is visible, although\nour range of vision is so very limited.\n\nThe man of the world, pure and simple,\nis by far the best practical observer and\nphilosopher with regard to life, because he is\nnot blinded by any prejudices. He will be\nfound always to believe that as a man sows so\nshall he reap. And this is so evidently true\nwhen it is considered, that if one takes the\nlarger view, including all human life, it makes\nintelligible the awful Nemesis which seems\nconsciously to pursue the human race,--that\ninexorable appearance of pain in the midst of\npleasure. The great Greek poets saw this\napparition so plainly that their recorded observation\nhas given to us younger and blinder\nobservers the idea of it. It is unlikely that so\nmaterialistic a race as that which has grown\nup all over the West would have discovered for\nitself the existence of this terrible factor in\nhuman life without the assistance of the older\npoets,--the poets of the past. And in this we\nmay notice, by the way, one distinct value of\nthe study of the classics,--that the great ideas\nand facts about human life which the superb\nancients put into their poetry shall not be\nabsolutely lost as are their arts. No doubt\nthe world will flower again, and greater\nthoughts and more profound discoveries than\nthose of the past will be the glory of the men\nof the future efflorescence; but until that\nfar-off day comes we cannot prize too dearly\nthe treasures left us.\n\nThere is one aspect of the question which\nseems at first sight positively to negative this\nmode of thought; and that is the suffering in\nthe apparently purely physical body of the\ndumb beings,--young children, idiots, animals,--and\ntheir desperate need of the power\nwhich comes of any sort of knowledge to help\nthem through their sufferings.\n\nThe difficulty which will arise in the mind\nwith regard to this comes from the untenable\nidea of the separation of the soul from the\nbody. It is supposed by all those who look\nonly at material life (and especially by the\nphysicians of the flesh) that the body and the\nbrain are a pair of partners who live together\nhand in hand and react one upon another.\nBeyond that they recognise no cause and\ntherefore allow of none. They forget that the\nbrain and the body are as evidently mere mechanism\nas the hand or the foot. There is the\ninner man--the soul--behind, using all these\nmechanisms; and this is as evidently the truth\nwith regard to all the existences we know of as\nwith regard to man himself. We cannot find\nany point in the scale of being at which soul-causation\nceases or can cease. The dull oyster\nmust have that in him which makes him choose\nthe inactive life he leads; none else can choose\nit for him but the soul behind, which makes\nhim be. How else can he be where he is, or be\nat all? Only by the intervention of an impossible\ncreator called by some name or other.\n\nIt is because man is so idle, so indisposed\nto assume or accept responsibility, that he falls\nback upon this temporary makeshift of a\ncreator. It is temporary indeed, for it can only\nlast during the activity of the particular brain\npower which finds its place among us. When\nthe man drops this mental life behind him,\nhe of necessity leaves with it its magic lantern\nand the pleasant illusions he has conjured up\nby its aid. That must be a very uncomfortable\nmoment, and must produce a sense of nakedness\nnot to be approached by any other sensation.\nIt would seem as well to save one's\nself this disagreeable experience by refusing to\naccept unreal phantasms as things of flesh\nand blood and power. Upon the shoulders of\nthe Creator man likes to thrust the responsibility\nnot only of his capacity for sinning and\nthe possibility of his salvation, but of his very\nlife itself, his very consciousness. It is a poor\nCreator that he thus contents himself with,--one\nwho is pleased with a universe of puppets,\nand amused by pulling their strings. If he is\ncapable of such enjoyment, he must yet be in\nhis infancy. Perhaps that is so, after all; the\nGod within us is in his infancy, and refuses\nto recognise his high estate. If indeed the soul\nof man is subject to the laws of growth, of\ndecay, and of re-birth as to its body, then there\nis no wonder at its blindness. But this is\nevidently not so; for the soul of man is of that\norder of life which causes shape and form,\nand is unaffected itself by these things,--of\nthat order of life which like the pure, the\nabstract flame burns wherever it is lit. This\ncannot be changed or affected by time, and is\nof its very nature superior to growth and\ndecay. It stands in that primeval place which\nis the only throne of God,--that place whence\nforms of life emerge and to which they return.\nThat place is the central point of existence,\nwhere there is a permanent spot of life as\nthere is in the midst of the heart of man. It\nis by the equal development of that,--first\nby the recognition of it, and then by its equal\ndevelopment upon the many radiating lines of\nexperience,--that man is at last enabled to\nreach the Golden Gate and lift the latch. The\nprocess is the gradual recognition of the god\nin himself; the goal is reached when that\ngodhood is consciously restored to its\nright glory.\n\n\nIII\n\nThe first thing which it is necessary for the\nsoul of man to do in order to engage in this\ngreat endeavor of discovering true life is the\nsame thing that the child first does in its desire\nfor activity in the body,--he must be able to\nstand. It is clear that the power of standing,\nof equilibrium, of concentration, of uprightness,\nin the soul, is a quality of a marked character.\nThe word that presents itself most\nreadily as descriptive of this quality is\n\"confidence.\"\n\nTo remain still amid life and its changes,\nand stand firmly on the chosen spot, is a feat\nwhich can only be accomplished by the man\nwho has confidence in himself and in his\ndestiny. Otherwise the hurrying forms of life,\nthe rushing tide of men, the great floods of\nthought, must inevitably carry him with them,\nand then he will lose that place of consciousness\nwhence it was possible to start on the\ngreat enterprise. For it _must_ be done knowingly,\nand without pressure from without,--this\nact of the new-born man. All the great\nones of the earth have possessed this confidence,\nand have stood firmly on that place\nwhich was to them the one solid spot in the\nuniverse. To each man this place is of necessity\ndifferent. Each man must find his\nearth and his own heaven.\n\nWe have the instinctive desire to relieve\npain, but we work in externals in this as in\neverything else. We simply alleviate it; and\nif we do more, and drive it from its first chosen\nstronghold, it reappears in some other place\nwith reinforced vigor. If it is eventually driven\noff the physical plane by persistent and successful\neffort, it reappears on the mental or\nemotional planes where no man can touch it.\nThat this is so is easily seen by those who\nconnect the various planes of sensation, and\nwho observe life with that additional illumination.\nMen habitually regard these different\nforms of feeling as actually separate, whereas\nin fact they are evidently only different sides\nof one centre,--the point of personality. If\nthat which arises in the centre, the fount of\nlife, demands some hindered action, and consequently\ncauses pain, the force thus created\nbeing driven from one stronghold must find\nanother; it cannot be driven out. And all the\nblendings of human life which cause emotion\nand distress exist for its use and purposes as\nwell as for those of pleasure. Both have their\nhome in man; both demand their expression of\nright. The marvellously delicate mechanism of\nthe human frame is constructed to answer to\ntheir lightest touch; the extraordinary intricacies\nof human relations evolve themselves, as\nit were, for the satisfaction of these two great\nopposites of the soul.\n\nPain and pleasure stand apart and separate,\nas do the two sexes; and it is in the merging,\nthe making the two into one, that joy and deep\nsensation and profound peace are obtained.\nWhere there is neither male nor female\nneither pain nor pleasure, there is the god in\nman dominant, and then is life real.\n\nTo state the matter in this way may savor\ntoo much of the dogmatist who utters his\nassertions uncontradicted from a safe pulpit;\nbut it is dogmatism only as a scientist's record\nof effort in a new direction is dogmatism.\nUnless the existence of the Gates of Gold can\nbe proved to be real, and not the mere phantasmagoria\nof fanciful visionaries, then they\nare not worth talking about at all. In the\nnineteenth century hard facts or legitimate\narguments alone appeal to men's minds; and\nso much the better. For unless the life we\nadvance towards is increasingly real and\nactual, it is worthless, and time is wasted in\ngoing after it. Reality is man's greatest need,\nand he demands to have it at all hazards, at\nany price. Be it so. No one doubts he is right.\nLet us then go in search of reality.\n\n\n\n\nIV\n\n\nOne definite lesson learned by all acute\nsufferers will be of the greatest service to us\nin this consideration. In intense pain a point is\nreached where it is indistinguishable from its\nopposite, pleasure. This is indeed so, but few\nhave the heroism or the strength to suffer to\nsuch a far point. It is as difficult to reach\nit by the other road. Only a chosen few have\nthe gigantic capacity for pleasure which will\nenable them to travel to its other side. Most\nhave but enough strength to enjoy and to\nbecome the slave of the enjoyment. Yet man\nhas undoubtedly within himself the heroism\nneeded for the great journey; else how is it\nmartyrs have smiled amid the torture?\nHow is it that the profound sinner who lives\nfor pleasure can at last feel stir within himself\nthe divine afflatus?\n\nIn both these cases the possibility has arisen\nof finding the way; but too often that\npossibility is killed by the overbalance of the\nstartled nature. The martyr has acquired a\npassion for pain and lives in the idea of heroic\nsuffering; the sinner becomes blinded by the\nthought of virtue and worships it as an end,\nan object, a thing divine in itself; whereas it\ncan only be divine as it is part of that infinite\nwhole which includes vice as well as virtue.\nHow is it possible to divide the infinite,--that\nwhich is one? It is as reasonable to lend\ndivinity to any object as to take a cup of water\nfrom the sea and declare that in that is contained\nthe ocean. You cannot separate the\nocean; the salt water is part of the great sea\nand must be so; but nevertheless you do not\nhold the sea in your hand. Men so longingly\ndesire personal power that they are ready to\nput infinity into a cup, the divine idea into a\nformula, in order that they may fancy themselves\nin possession of it. These only are those\nwho cannot rise and approach the Gates of\nGold, for the great breath of life confuses\nthem; they are struck with horror to find how\ngreat it is. The idol-worshipper keeps an\nimage of his idol in his heart and burns a\ncandle always before it. It is his own, and he\nis pleased at that thought, even if he bow in\nreverence before it. In how many virtuous and\nreligious men does not this same state exist?\nIn the recesses of the soul the lamp is burning\nbefore a household god,--a thing possessed\nby its worshipper and subject to him. Men\ncling with desperate tenacity to these dogmas,\nthese moral laws, these principles and modes\nof faith which are their household gods, their\npersonal idols. Bid them burn the unceasing\nflame in reverence only to the infinite, and\nthey turn from you. Whatever their manner\nof scorning your protest may be, within themselves\nit leaves a sense of aching void. For\nthe noble soul of the man, that potential king\nwhich is within us all, knows full well that\nthis household idol may be cast down and\ndestroyed at any moment,--that it is without\nfinality in itself, without any real and absolute\nlife. And he has been content in his possession,\nforgetting that anything possessed can only by\nthe immutable laws of life be held temporarily.\nHe has forgotten that the infinite is\nhis only friend; he has forgotten that in its\nglory is his only home,--that it alone can be\nhis god. There he feels as if he is homeless;\nbut that amid the sacrifices he offers to\nhis own especial idol there is for him a brief\nresting-place; and for this he clings passionately\nto it.\n\nFew have the courage even slowly to face\nthe great desolateness which lies outside themselves,\nand must lie there so long as they cling\nto the person which they represent, the \"I\"\nwhich is to them the centre of the world, the\ncause of all life. In their longing for a God\nthey find the reason for the existence of one;\nin their desire for a sense-body and a world to\nenjoy in, lies to them the cause of the universe.\nThese beliefs may be hidden very deep beneath\nthe surface, and be indeed scarcely accessible;\nbut in the fact that they are there is the reason\nwhy the man holds himself upright. To himself\nhe is himself the infinite and the God; he\nholds the ocean in a cup. In this delusion he\nnurtures the egoism which makes life pleasure\nand makes pain pleasant. In this profound\negoism is the very cause and source of the\nexistence of pleasure and of pain. For unless\nman vacillated between these two, and ceaselessly\nreminded himself by sensation that he\nexists, he would forget it. And in this fact lies\nthe whole answer to the question, \"Why does\nman create pain for his own discomfort?\"\n\nThe strange and mysterious fact remains\nunexplained as yet, that man in so deluding\nhimself is merely interpreting Nature backwards\nand putting into the words of death the\nmeaning of life. For that man does indeed\nhold within him the infinite, and that the ocean\nis really in the cup, is an incontestable truth;\nbut it is only so because the cup is absolutely\nnon-existent. It is merely an experience of the\ninfinite, having no permanence, liable to be\nshattered at any instant. It is in the claiming\nof reality and permanence for the four walls of\nhis personality, that man makes the vast\nblunder which plunges him into a prolonged\nseries of unfortunate incidents, and intensifies\ncontinually the existence of his favorite forms\nof sensation. Pleasure and pain become to him\nmore real than the great ocean of which he is\na part and where his home is; he perpetually\nknocks himself painfully against these walls\nwhere he feels, and his tiny self oscillates\nwithin his chosen prison.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nTHE SECRET OF STRENGTH\n\nI\n\n\nStrength to step forward is the primary\nneed of him who has chosen his path. Where\nis this to be found? Looking round, it is not\nhard to see where other men find their strength.\nIts source is profound conviction. Through this\ngreat moral power is brought to birth in the\nnatural life of the man that which enables him,\nhowever frail he may be, to go on and conquer.\nConquer what? Not continents, not worlds, but\nhimself. Through that supreme victory is\nobtained the entrance to the whole, where all\nthat might be conquered and obtained by effort\nbecomes at once not his, but himself.\n\nTo put on armor and go forth to war,\ntaking the chances of death in the hurry of the\nfight, is an easy thing; to stand still amid\nthe jangle of the world, to preserve stillness\nwithin the turmoil of the body, to hold silence\namid the thousand cries of the senses and\ndesires, and then, stripped of all armor and\nwithout hurry or excitement take the deadly\nserpent of self and kill it, is no easy thing.\nYet that is what has to be done; and it can\nonly be done in the moment of equilibrium\nwhen the enemy is disconcerted by the silence.\n\nBut there is needed for this supreme\nmoment a strength such as no hero of the\nbattlefield needs. A great soldier must be filled\nwith the profound convictions of the justness\nof his cause and the rightness of his method.\nThe man who wars against himself and wins\nthe battle can do it only when he knows that\nin that war he is doing the one thing which\nis worth doing, and when he knows that in\ndoing it he is winning heaven and hell as his\nservitors. Yes, he stands on both. He needs\nno heaven where pleasure comes as a long-promised\nreward; he fears no hell where pain\nwaits to punish him for his sins. For he has\nconquered once for all that shifting serpent\nin himself which turns from side to side in\nits constant desire of contact, in its perpetual\nsearch after pleasure and pain. Never again\n(the victory once really won) can he tremble\nor grow exultant at any thought of that which\nthe future holds. Those burning sensations\nwhich seemed to him to be the only proofs\nof his existence are his no longer. How, then,\ncan he know that he lives? He knows it only\nby argument. And in time he does not care to\nargue about it. For him there is then peace;\nand he will find in that peace the power he\nhas coveted. Then he will know what is that\nfaith which can remove mountains.\n\n\nII\n\nReligion holds a man back from the path,\nprevents his stepping forward, for various very\nplain reasons. First it makes the vital mistake\nof distinguishing between good and evil.\nNature knows no such distinction; and the\nmoral and social laws set us by our religions\nare as temporary, as much a thing of our own\nspecial mode and form of existence, as are the\nmoral and social laws of the ants or the bees.\nWe pass out of that state in which these things\nappear to be final, and we forget them forever.\nThis is easily shown, because a man of broad\nhabits of thought and of intelligence must\nmodify his code of life when he dwells among\nanother people. These people among whom\nhe is an alien have their own deep-rooted\nreligions and hereditary convictions, against\nwhich he cannot offend. Unless his is an\nabjectly narrow and unthinking mind, he sees\nthat their form of law and order is as good as\nhis own. What then can he do but reconcile\nhis conduct gradually to their rules? And then\nif he dwells among them many years the sharp\nedge of difference is worn away, and he forgets\nat last where their faith ends and his commences.\nYet is it for his own people to say he\nhas done wrong, if he has injured no man and\nremained just?\n\nI am not attacking law and order; I do not\nspeak of these things with rash dislike. In\ntheir place they are as vital and necessary as\nthe code which governs the life of a beehive\nis to its successful conduct. What I wish to\npoint out is that law and order in themselves\nare quite temporary and unsatisfactory.\na man's soul passes away from its brief\ndwelling-place, thoughts of law and order do\nnot accompany it. If it is strong, it is the\necstasy of true being and real life which it\nbecomes possessed of, as all know who have\nwatched by the dying. If the soul is weak, it\nfaints and fades away, overcome by the first\nflush of the new life.\n\nAm I speaking too positively? Only those\nwho live in the active life of the moment, who\nhave not watched beside the dead and dying,\nwho have not walked the battlefield and\nlooked in the faces of men in their last agony,\nwill say so. The strong man goes forth from\nhis body exultant.\n\nWhy? Because he is no longer held back\nand made to quiver by hesitation. In the\nstrange moment of death he has had release\ngiven him; and with a sudden passion of\ndelight he recognises that it is release. Had;\nhe been sure of this before, he would have\nbeen a great sage, a man to rule the world,\nfor he would have had the power to rule\nhimself and his own body. That release from\nthe chains of ordinary life can be obtained as\neasily during life as by death. It only needs a\nsufficiently profound conviction to enable the\nman to look on his body with the same emotions\nas he would look on the body of another\nman, or on the bodies of a thousand men. In\ncontemplating a battlefield it is impossible to\nrealize the agony of every sufferer; why, then,\nrealize your own pain more keenly than\nanother's? Mass the whole together, and look\nat it all from a wider standpoint than that\nof the individual life. That you actually feel\nyour own physical wound is a weakness of\nyour limitation. The man who is developed\npsychically feels the wound of another as\nkeenly as his own, and does not feel his own\nat all if he is strong enough to will it so.\nEvery one who has examined at all seriously\ninto psychic conditions knows this to be a fact,\nmore or less marked, according to the psychic\ndevelopment. In many instances, the psychic is\nmore keenly and selfishly aware of his own\npain than of any other person's; but that is\nwhen the development, marked perhaps so far\nas it has gone, only reaches a certain point.\nIt is the power which carries the man to the\nmargin of that consciousness which is profound\npeace and vital activity. It can carry him no\nfurther. But if he has reached its margin he\nis freed from the paltry dominion of his own\nself. That is the first great release. Look at\nthe sufferings which come upon us from our\nnarrow and limited experience and sympathy.\nWe each stand quite alone, a solitary unit, a\npygmy in the world. What good fortune can\nwe expect? The great life of the world rushes\nby, and we are in danger each instant that\nit will overwhelm us or even utterly destroy us.\nThere is no defence to be offered to it; no\nopposition army can be set up, because in this\nlife every man fights his own battle against\nevery other man, and no two can be united\nunder the same banner. There is only one way\nof escape from this terrible danger which we\nbattle against every hour. Turn round, and\ninstead of standing against the forces, join\nthem; become one with Nature, and go easily\nupon her path. Do not resist or resent the\ncircumstances of life any more than the plants\npresent the rain and the wind. Then suddenly,\nto your own amazement, you find you have\ntime and strength to spare, to use in the great\nbattle which it is inevitable every man must\nfight,--that in himself, that which leads to\nhis own conquest.\n\nSome might say, to his own destruction.\nAnd why? Because from the hour when he\nfirst tastes the splendid reality of living he\nforgets more and more his individual self. No\nlonger does he fight for it, or pit its strength\nagainst the strength of others. No longer does\nhe care to defend or to feed it. Yet when\nhe is thus indifferent to its welfare, the individual\nself grows more stalwart and robust,\nlike the prairie grasses and the trees of untrodden\nforests. It is a matter of indifference to\nhim whether this is so or not. Only, if it is so,\nhe has a fine instrument ready to his hand; and\nin due proportion to the completeness of his\nindifference to it is the strength and beauty\nof his personal self. This is readily seen; a\ngarden flower becomes a mere degenerate copy\nof itself if it is simply neglected; a plant must\nbe cultivated to the highest pitch, and benefit\nby the whole of the gardener's skill, or else it\nmust be a pure savage, wild, and fed only by\nthe earth and sky. Who cares for any intermediate\nstates? What value or strength is\nthere in the neglected garden rose which has\nthe canker in every bud? For diseased or\ndwarfed blossoms are sure to result from an\narbitrary change of condition, resulting from\nthe neglect of the man who has hitherto been\nthe providence of the plant in its unnatural\nlife. But there are wind-blown plains where\nthe daisies grow tall, with moon faces such\nas no cultivation can produce in them. Cultivate,\nthen, to the very utmost; forget no inch\nof your garden ground, no smallest plant that\ngrows in it; make no foolish pretence nor fond\nmistake in the fancy that you are ready to\nforget it, and so subject it to the frightful consequences\nof half-measures. The plant that is\nwatered to-day and forgotten to-morrow must\ndwindle or decay. The plant that looks for no\nhelp but from Nature itself measures its\nstrength at once, and either dies and is\nre-created or grows into a great tree whose\nboughs fill the sky. But make no mistake like\nthe religionists and some philosophers; leave\nno part of yourself neglected while you know\nit to be yourself. While the ground is the\ngardener's it is his business to tend it; but\nsome day a call may come to him from another\ncountry or from death itself, and in a moment\nhe is no longer the gardener, his business is at\nan end, he has no more duty of that kind\nat all. Then his favorite plants suffer and die,\nand the delicate ones become one with the\nearth. But soon fierce Nature claims the place\nfor her own, and covers it with thick grass or\ngiant weeds, or nurses some sapling in it\ntill its branches shade the ground. Be warned,\nand tend your garden to the utmost, till you can\npass away utterly and let it return to Nature\nand become the wind-blown plain where the\nwild-flowers grow. Then, if you pass that way\nand look at it, whatever has happened will\nneither grieve nor elate you. For you will be\nable to say, \"I am the rocky ground, I am the\ngreat tree, I am the strong daisies,\" indifferent\nwhich it is that flourishes where once your rose-trees\ngrew. But you must have learned to study\nthe stars to some purpose before you dare to\nneglect your roses, and omit to fill the air\nwith their cultivated fragrance. You must\nknow your way through the trackless air, and\nfrom thence to the pure ether; you must be\nready to lift the bar of the Golden Gate.\n\nCultivate, I say, and neglect nothing. Only\nremember, all the while you tend and water,\nthat you are impudently usurping the tasks of\nNature herself. Having usurped her work,\nyou must carry it through until you have\nreached a point when she has no power to\npunish you, when you are not afraid of her,\nbut can with a bold front return her her own.\nShe laughs in her sleeve, the mighty mother,\nwatching you with covert, laughing eye, ready\nrelentlessly to cast the whole of your work\ninto the dust if you do but give her the chance,\nif you turn idler and grow careless. The idler\nis father of the madman in the sense that the\nchild is the father of the.man. Nature has\nput her vast hand on him and crushed the\nwhole edifice. The gardener and his rose-trees\nare alike broken and stricken by the great\nstorm which her movement has created; they\nlie helpless till the sand is swept over them\nand they are buried in a weary wilderness.\nFrom this desert spot Nature herself will\nre-create, and will use the ashes of the man\nwho dared to face her as indifferently as the\nwithered leaves of his plants. His body, soul,\nand spirit are all alike claimed by her.\n\n\nIII\n\nThe man who is strong, who has resolved\nto find the unknown path, takes with the\nutmost care every step. He utters no idle word,\nhe does no unconsidered action, he neglects no\nduty or office however homely or however\ndifficult. But while his eyes and hands and\nfeet are thus fulfilling their tasks, new eyes\nand hands and feet are being born within\nhim. For his passionate and unceasing desire\nis to go that way on which the subtile organs\nonly can guide him. The physical world he has\nlearned, and knows how to use; gradually his\npower is passing on, and he recognises the\npsychic world. But he has to learn this world\nand know how to use it, and he dare not lose\nhold of the life he is familiar with till he has\ntaken hold of that with which he is unfamiliar.\nWhen he has acquired such power\nwith his psychic organs as the infant has with\nits physical organs when it first opens its lungs,\nthen is the hour for the great adventure. How\nlittle is needed--yet how much that is! The\nman does but need the psychic body to be\nformed in all parts, as is an infant's; he does\nbut need the profound and unshakable conviction\nwhich impels the infant, that the new\nlife is desirable. Once those conditions gained\nand he may let himself live in the new atmosphere\nand look up to the new sun. But then\nhis must remember to check his new experience\nby the old. He is breathing still, though differently;\nhe draws air into his lungs, and takes\nlife from the sun. He has been born into the\npsychic world, and depends now on the\npsychic air and light. His goal is not here: this\nis but a subtile repetition of physical life; he\nhas to pass through it according to similar\nlaws. He must study, learn, grow, and conquer;\nnever forgetting the while that his goal is that\nplace where there is no air nor any sun or\nmoon.\n\nDo not imagine that in this line of progress\nthe man himself is being moved or changing\nhis place. Not so. The truest illustration of the\nprocess is that of cutting through layers of crust\nor skin. The man, having learned his lesson\nfully, casts off the physical life; having learned\nhis lesson fully, casts off the psychic life; having\nlearned his lesson fully, casts off the contemplative\nlife, or life of adoration.\n\nAll are cast aside at last, and he enters the\ngreat temple where any memory of self or sensation\nis left outside as the shoes are cast from\nthe feet of the worshipper. That temple is the\nplace of his own pure divinity, the central flame\nwhich, however obscured, has animated him\nthrough all these struggles. And having found\nthis sublime home he is sure as the heavens\nthemselves. He remains still, filled with all\nknowledge and power. The outer man, the\nadoring, the acting, the living personification,\ngoes its own way hand in hand with Nature,\nand shows all the superb strength of the savage\ngrowth of the earth, lit by that instinct which\ncontains knowledge. For in the inmost sanctuary,\nin the actual temple, the man has found\nthe subtile essence of Nature herself. No\nlonger can there be any difference between\nthem or any half-measures. And now comes\nthe hour of action and power. In that inmost\nsanctuary all is to be found: God and his creatures,\nthe fiends who prey on them, those\namong men who have been loved, those who\nhave been hated. Difference between them exists\nno longer. Then the soul of man laughs in\nits strength and fearlessness, and goes forth\ninto the world in which its actions are needed,\nand causes these actions to take place without\napprehension, alarm, fear, regret, or joy.\n\nThis state is possible to man while yet he\nlives in the physical; for men have attained it\nwhile living. It alone can make actions in the\nphysical divine and true.\n\nLife among objects of sense must forever\nbe an outer shape to the sublime soul,--it can\nonly become powerful life, the life of accomplishment,\nwhen it is animated by the crowned\nand indifferent god that sits in the sanctuary.\n\nThe obtaining of this condition is so supremely\ndesirable because from the moment it\nis entered there is no more trouble, no more\nanxiety, no more doubt or hesitation. As a\ngreat artist paints his picture fearlessly and\nnever committing any error which causes him\nregret, so the man who has formed his inner\nself deals with his life.\n\nBut that is when the condition is entered.\nThat which we who look towards the mountains\nhunger to know is the mode of entrance and\nthe way to the Gate. The Gate is that Gate of\nGold barred by a heavy bar of iron. The way\nto the threshold of it turns a man giddy and\nsick. It seems no path, it seems to end perpetually,\nits way lies along hideous precipices,\nit loses itself in deep waters.\n\nOnce crossed and the way found it appears\nwonderful that the difficulty should have looked;\nso great. For the path where it disappears does\nbut turn abruptly, its line upon the precipice\nedge is wide enough for the feet, and across\nthe deep waters that look so treacherous there,\nis always a ford and a ferry. So it happens in\nall profound experiences of human nature.\nWhen the first grief tears the heart asunder it\nseems that the path has ended and a blank\ndarkness taken the place of the sky. And yet by\ngroping the soul passes on, and that difficult\nand seemingly hopeless turn in the road is\npassed.\n\nSo with many another form or human torture.\nSometimes throughout a long period or\na whole lifetime the path of existence is perpetually\nchecked by what seem like insurmountable\nobstacles. Grief, pain, suffering, the loss\nof all that is beloved or valued, rise up before\nthe terrified soul and check it at every turn.\nWho places those obstacles there? The reason\nshrinks at the childish dramatic picture which\nthe religionists place before it,--God permitting\nthe Devil to torment His creatures for their\nultimate good! When will that ultimate good\nbe attained? The idea involved in this picture\nsupposes an end, a goal. There is none. We\ncan any one of us safely assent to that; for as\nfar as human observation, reason, thought, intellect,\nor instinct can reach towards grasping\nthe mystery of life, all data obtained show that\nthe path is endless and that eternity cannot be\nblinked and converted by the idling soul into\na million years.\n\nIn man, taken individually or as a whole,\nthere clearly exists a double constitution. I am\nspeaking roughly now, being well aware that\nthe various schools of philosophy cut him up\nand subdivide him according to their several\ntheories. What I mean is this: that two great\ntides of emotion sweep through his nature, two\ngreat forces guide his life; the one makes him\nan animal, and the other makes him a god. No\nbrute of the earth is so brutal as the man who\nsubjects his godly power to his animal power.\nThis is a matter of course, because the whole\nforce of the double nature is then used in one\ndirection. The animal pure and simple obeys\nhis instincts only and desires no more than to\ngratify his love of pleasure; he pays but little\nregard to the existence of other beings except\nin so far as they offer him pleasure or pain; he\nknows nothing of the abstract love of cruelty or\nof any of those vicious tendencies of the human\nbeing which have in themselves their own\ngratification. Thus the man who becomes a\nbeast has a million times the grasp of life over\nthe natural beast, and that which in the pure\nanimal is sufficiently innocent enjoyment, uninterrupted\nby an arbitrary moral standard, becomes\nin him vice, because it is gratified on\nprinciple. Moreover he turns all the divine\npowers of his being into this channel, and degrades\nhis soul by making it the slave of his\nsenses. The god, deformed and disguised,\nwaits on the animal and feeds it.\n\nConsider then whether it is not possible to\nchange the situation. The man himself is king\nof the country in which this strange spectacle\nis seen. He allows the beast to usurp the place\nof the god because for the moment the beast\npleases his capricious royal fancy the most. This\ncannot last always; why let it last any longer?\nSo long as the animal rules there will be the\nkeenest sufferings in consequence of change,\nof the vibration between pleasure and pain,\nof the desire for prolonged and pleasant\nphysical life. And the god in his capacity of\nservant adds a thousand-fold to all this, by\nmaking physical life so much more filled with\nkeenness of pleasure,--rare, voluptuous,\naesthetic pleasure,--and by intensity of pain\nso passionate that one knows not where it\nends and where pleasure commences. So\nlong as the god serves, so long the life of\nthe animal will be enriched and increasingly\nvaluable. But let the king resolve to change\nthe face of his court and forcibly evict the animal\nfrom the chair of state, restoring the god\nto the place of divinity.\n\nAh, the profound peace that falls upon the\npalace! All is indeed changed. No longer is\nthere the fever of personal longings or desires,\nno longer is there any rebellion or distress, no\nlonger any hunger for pleasure or dread of\npain. It is like a great calm descending on a\nstormy ocean; it is like the soft rain of summer\nfalling on parched ground; it is like the\ndeep pool found amidst the weary, thirsty\nlabyrinths of the unfriendly forest.\n\nBut there is much more than this. Not only\nis man more than an animal because there is\nthe god in him, but he is more than a god because\nthere is the animal in him.\n\nOnce force the animal into his rightful\nplace, that of the inferior, and you find yourself\nin possession of a great force hitherto unsuspected\nand unknown. The god as servant\nadds a thousand-fold to the pleasures of the\nanimal; the animal as servant adds a thousand-fold\nto the powers of the god. And it is upon\nthe union, the right relation of these two forces\nin himself, that man stands as a strong king,\nand is enabled to raise his hand and lift the\nbar of the Golden Gate. When these forces\nare unfitly related, then the king is but a\ncrowned voluptuary, without power, and whose\ndignity does but mock him; for the animals,\nundivine, at least know peace and are not torn\nby vice and despair.\n\nThat is the whole secret. That is what\nmakes man strong, powerful, able to grasp\nheaven and earth in his hands. Do not fancy\nit is easily done. Do not be deluded into the\nidea that the religious or the virtuous man does\nit! Not so. They do no more than fix a standard,\na routine, a law, by which they hold the\nanimal in check. The god is compelled to\nserve him in a certain way, and does so, pleasing\nhim with the beliefs and cherished fantasies\nof the religious, with the lofty sense of personal\npride which makes the joy of the virtuous.\nThese special and canonized vices are\nthings too low and base to be possible to the\npure animal, whose only inspirer is Nature herself,\nalways fresh as the dawn. The god in\nman, degraded, is a thing unspeakable in its infamous\npower of production.\n\nThe animal in man, elevated, is a thing unimaginable\nin its great powers of service and\nof strength.\n\nYou forget, you who let your animal self\nlive on, merely checked and held within certain\nbounds, that it is a great force, an integral\nportion of the animal life of the world you\nlive in. With it you can sway men, and influence\nthe very world itself, more or less perceptibly\naccording to your strength. The god,\ngiven his right place, will so inspire and guide\nthis extraordinary creature, so educate and\ndevelope it, so force it into action and recognition\nof its kind, that it will make you tremble\nwhen you recognise the power that has awakened\nwithin you. The animal in yourself will\nthen be a king among the animals of the world.\n\nThis is the secret of the old-world magicians\nwho made Nature serve them and work\nmiracles every day for their convenience. This\nis the secret of the coming race which Lord\nLytton foreshadowed for us.\n\nBut this power can only be attained by giving\nthe god the sovereignty. Make your animal\nruler over yourself, and he will never rule\nothers.\n\n\n\n\nEPILOGUE\n\n\nSecreted and hidden in the heart of the\nworld and in the heart of man is the light\nwhich can illumine all life, the future and the\npast. Shall we not search for it? Surely some\nmust do so. And then perhaps those will add\nwhat is needed to this poor fragment of\nthought.\n\n\n\n\nTHROUGH THE GATES OF GOLD\n\nFrom _The Path_, March, 1887\n\n\nThe most notable book for guidance in Mysticism\nwhich has appeared since _Light on the Path_\nwas written has just been published under the\nsignificant title of _Through the Gates of Gold_.\nThough the author's name is withheld, the occult\nstudent will quickly discern that it must proceed\nfrom a very high source. In certain respects the\nbook may be regarded as a commentary on _Light\non the Path_. The reader would do well to bear\nthis in mind. Many things in that book will be\nmade clear by the reading of this one, and one will\nbe constantly reminded of that work, which has\nalready become a classic in our literature. _Through\nthe Gates of Gold_ is a work to be kept constantly\nat hand for reference and study. It will surely take\nrank as one of the standard books of Theosophy.\n\nThe \"Gates of Gold\" represent the entrance to\nthat realm of the soul unknowable through the\nphysical perceptions, and the purpose of this work\nis to indicate some of the steps necessary to reach\ntheir threshold. Through its extraordinary beauty\nof style and the clearness of its statement it will\nappeal to a wider portion of the public than most\nworks of a Theosophical character. It speaks to the\nWestern World in its own language, and in this\nfact lies much of its value.\n\nThose of us who have been longing for something\n\"practical\" will find it here, while it will\nprobably come into the hands of thousands who\nknow little or nothing of Theosophy, and thus meet\nwants deeply felt though unexpressed. There are\nalso doubtless many, we fancy, who will be carried\nfar along in its pages by its resistless logic until\nthey encounter something which will give a rude\nshock to some of their old conceptions, which they\nhave imagined as firmly based as upon a rock--a\nshock which may cause them to draw back in alarm,\nbut from which they will not find it so easy to\nrecover, and which will be likely to set them\nthinking seriously.\n\nThe titles of the five chapters of the book are,\nrespectively, \"The Search for Pleasure,\" \"The\nMystery of Threshold,\" \"The Initial Effort,\" \"The\nMeaning of Pain,\" and \"The Secret of Strength.\"\nInstead of speculating upon mysteries that lie at the\nvery end of man's destiny, and which cannot be\napproached by any manner of conjecture, the work\nvery sensibly takes up that which lies next at hand,\nthat which constitutes the first step to be taken if\nwe are ever to take a second one, and teaches us its\nsignificance. At the outset we must cope with\nsensation and learn its nature and meaning. An\nimportant teaching of _Light on the Path_ has been\nmisread by many. We are not enjoined to kill out\nsensation, but to \"kill out _desire_ for sensation,\"\nwhich is something quite different. \"Sensation, as\nwe obtain it through the physical body, affords us\nall that induces us to live in that shape,\" says this\nwork. The problem is, to extract the meaning which\nit holds for us. That is what existence is for. \"If\nmen will but pause and consider what lessons they\nhave learned from pleasure and pain, much might\nbe guessed of that strange thing which causes these\neffects.\"\n\n\"The question concerning results seemingly\nunknowable, that concerning the life beyond the\nGates,\" is presented as one that has been asked\nthroughout the ages, coming at the hour \"when the\nflower of civilization had blown to its full, and when\nits petals are but slackly held together,\" the period\nwhen man reaches the greatest physical development\nof his cycle. It is then that in the distance a great\nglittering is seen, before which many drop their\neyes bewildered and dazzled, though now and then\none is found brave enough to gaze fixedly on this\nglittering, and to decipher something of the shape\nwithin it. \"Poets and philosophers, thinkers and\nteachers, all those who are the 'elder brothers of the\nrace'--have beheld this sight from time to time,\nand some among them have recognized in the bewildering\nglitter the outlines of the Gates of Gold.\"\n\nThose Gates admit us to the sanctuary of man's\nown nature, to the place whence his life-power\ncomes, and where he is priest of the shrine of life.\nIt needs but a strong hand to push them open, we\nare told. \"The courage to enter them is the courage\nto search the recesses of one's own nature without\nfear and without shame. In the fine part, the\nessence, the flavor of the man, is found the key\nwhich unlocks those great Gates.\"\n\nThe necessity of killing out the sense of separateness\nis profoundly emphasized as one of the most\nimportant factors in this process. We must divest\nourselves of the illusions of the material life. \"When\nwe desire to speak with those who have tried the\nGolden Gates and pushed them open, then it is very\nnecessary--in fact it is essential--to discriminate,\nand not bring into our life the confusions of our\nsleep. If we do, we are reckoned as madmen, and\nfall back into the darkness where there is no friend\nbut chaos. This chaos has followed every effort of\nman that is written in history; after civilization has\nflowered, the flower falls and dies, and winter and\ndarkness destroy it.\" In this last sentence is indicated\nthe purpose of civilization. It is the blossoming\nof a race, with the purpose of producing a certain\nspiritual fruit; this fruit having ripened, then the\ndegeneration of the great residuum begins, to be\nworked over and over again in the grand fermenting\nprocesses of reincarnation. Our great civilization\nis now flowering and in this fact we may read the\nreason for the extraordinary efforts to sow the seed\nof the Mystic Teachings wherever the mind of man\nmay be ready to receive it.\n\nIn the \"Mystery of Threshold,\" we are told that\n\"only a man who has the potentialities in him both\nof the voluptuary and the stoic has any chance of\nentering the Golden Gates. He must be capable of\ntesting and valuing to its most delicate fraction every\njoy existence has to give; and he must be capable of\ndenying himself all pleasure, and that without\nsuffering from the denial.\"\n\nThe fact that the way is different for each individual\nis finely set forth in \"The Initial Effort,\" in\nthe words that man \"may burst the shell that holds\nhim in darkness, tear the veil that hides him from\nthe eternal, at any moment where it is easiest for\nhim to do so; and most often this point will be\nwhere he least expects to find it.\" By this we may\nsee the uselessness of laying down arbitrary laws\nin the matter.\n\nThe meaning of those important words, \"All\nsteps are necessary to make up the ladder,\" finds a\nwealth of illustration here. These sentences are particularly\npregnant: \"Spirit is not a gas created by\nmatter, and we cannot create our future by forcibly\nusing one material agent and leaving out the rest.\nSpirit is the great life on which matter rests, as\ndoes the rocky world on the free and fluid ether;\nwhenever we can break our limitations we find ourselves\non that marvellous shore where Wordsworth\nonce saw the gleam of the gold.\" Virtue, being of\nthe material life, man has not the power to carry\nit with him, \"yet the aroma of his good deeds is a\nfar sweeter sacrifice than the odor of crime and\ncruelty.\"\n\n\"To the one who has lifted the golden latch\nthe spring of sweet waters, the fountain itself whence\nall softness arises, is opened and becomes part of\nhis heritage. But before this can be reached a heavy\nweight has to be lifted from the heart, an iron bar\nwhich holds it down and prevents it from arising\nin its strength.\"\n\nThe author here wishes to show that there is\nsweetness and light in occultism, and not merely a\nwide dry level of dreadful Karma, such as some\nTheosophists are prone to dwell on. And this sweetness\nand light may be reached when we discover\nthe iron bar and raising it shall permit the heart\nto be free. This iron bar is what the Hindus call\n\"the knot of the heart\"! In their scriptures they\ntalk of unloosing this knot, and say that when that\nis accomplished freedom is near. But what is the\niron bar and the knot? is the question we must\nanswer. It is the astringent power of self--of\negotism--of the idea of separateness. This idea has\nmany strongholds. It holds its most secret court and\ndeepest counsels near the far removed depths and\ncentre of the heart. But it manifests itself first, in\nthat place which is nearest to our ignorant perceptions,\nwhere we see it first after beginning the search.\nWhen we assault and conquer it there it disappears.\nIt has only retreated to the next row of outworks\nwhere for a time it appears not to our sight, and\nwe imagine it killed, while it is laughing at our\nimaginary conquests and security. Soon again we\nfind it and conquer again, only to have it again\nretreat. So we must follow it up if we wish to\ngrasp it at last in its final stand just near the \"kernel\nof the heart.\" There it has become \"an iron bar\nthat holds down the heart,\" and there only can\nthe fight be really won. That disciple is fortunate\nwho is able to sink past all the pretended outer\ncitadels and seize at once this _personal devil_ who\nholds the bar of iron, and there wage the battle.\nIf won there, it is easy to return to the outermost\nplaces and take them by capitulation. This is very\ndifficult, for many reasons. It is not a mere juggle of\nwords to speak of this trial. It is a living tangible\nthing that can be met by any real student. The\ngreat difficulty of rushing at once to the centre lies\nin the unimaginable terrors which assault the soul\non its short journey there. This being so it is better\nto begin the battle on the outside in just the way\npointed out in this book and _Light on the Path_,\nby testing experience and learning from it.\n\nIn the lines quoted the author attempts to direct\nthe eyes of a very materialistic age to the fact which\nis an accepted one by all true students of occultism,\nthat the true heart of a man--which is visibly represented\nby the muscular heart--is the focus point\nfor spirit, for knowledge, for power; and that from\nthat point the converged rays begin to spread out\nfan-like, until they embrace the Universe. So it is\nthe Gate. And it is just at that neutral spot of\nconcentration that the pillars and the doors are fixed.\nIt is beyond it that the glorious golden light burns,\nand throws up a \"burnished glow.\" We find in\nthis the same teachings as in the Upanishads. The\nlatter speaks of \"the ether which is within the\nheart,\" and also says that we must pass across\nthat ether.\n\n\"The Meaning of Pain\" is considered in a way\nwhich throws a great light on the existence of that\nwhich for ages has puzzled many learned men.\n\"Pain arouses, softens, breaks, and destroys. Regarded\nfrom a sufficiently removed standpoint, it\nappears as a medicine, as a knife, as a weapon, as a\npoison, in turn. It is an implement, a thing which\nis used, evidently. What we desire to discover is,\nwho is the user; what part of ourselves is it that\ndemands the presence of this thing so hateful to\nthe rest?\"\n\nThe task is, to rise above both pain and pleasure\nand unite them to our service. \"Pain and pleasure\nstand apart and separate, as do the two sexes; and\nit is in the merging, the making the two into one,\nthat joy and deep sensation and profound peace are\nobtained. Where there is neither male nor female,\nneither pain nor pleasure, there is the god in man\ndominant, and then is life real.\"\n\nThe following passage can hardly fail to startle\nmany good people: \"Destiny, the inevitable, does\nindeed exist for the race and for the individual;\nbut who can ordain this save the man himself?\nThere is no clew in heaven or earth to the existence\nof any ordainer other than the man who suffers or\nenjoys that which is ordained.\" But can any earnest\nstudent of Theosophy deny, or object to this? Is it\nnot a pure statement of the law of Karma? Does it\nnot agree perfectly with the teaching of the Bhagavat-Gita?\nThere is surely no power which sits apart\nlike a judge in court, and fines us or rewards us\nfor this misstep or that merit; it is we who shape,\nor ordain, our own future.\n\nGod is not denied. The seeming paradox that a\nGod exists within each man is made clear when we\nperceive that our separate existence is an illusion;\nthe physical, which makes us separate individuals,\nmust eventually fall away, leaving each man one\nwith all men, and with God, who is the Infinite.\n\nAnd the passage which will surely be widely\nmisunderstood is that in \"The Secret of Strength.\"\n\"Religion holds a man back from the path, prevents\nhis stepping forward, for various very plain reasons.\nFirst, it makes the vital mistake of distinguishing\nbetween good and evil. Nature knows no such distinctions.\"\nReligion is always man-made. It cannot\ntherefore be the whole truth. It is a good thing for\nthe ordinary and outside man, but surely it will\nnever bring him to the Gates of Gold. If religion\nbe of God how is it that we find that same God\nin his own works and acts violating the precepts\nof religion? He kills each man once in life; every\nday the fierce elements and strange circumstances\nwhich he is said to be the author of, bring on\nfamine, cold and innumerable untimely deaths;\nwhere then, in The True, can there be any room\nfor such distinctions as right and wrong? The disciple,\nmust as he walks on the path, abide by law\nand order, but if he pins his faith on any religion\nwhatever he will stop at once, and it makes no\nmatter whether he sets up Mahatmas, Gods, Krishna,\nVedas or mysterious acts of grace, each of these\nwill stop him and throw him into a rut from which\neven heavenly death will not release him. Religion\ncan only teach morals and ethics. It cannot answer\nthe question \"what am I?\" The Buddhist ascetic\nholds a fan before his eyes to keep away the sight\nof objects condemned by his religion. But he thereby\ngains no knowledge, for that part of him which is\naffected by the improper sights has to be known by\nthe man himself, and it is by experience alone that\nthe knowledge can be possessed and assimilated.\n\nThe book closes gloriously, with some hints that\nhave been much needed. Too many, even of the\nsincerest students of occultism, have sought to ignore\nthat one-half of their nature, which is here taught\nto be necessary. Instead of crushing out the animal\nnature, we have here the high and wise teaching\nthat we must learn to fully understand the animal\nand subordinate it to the spiritual. \"The god in\nman, degraded, is a thing unspeakable in its\ninfamous power of production. The animal in man,\nelevated, is a thing unimaginable in its great powers\nof service and of strength,\" and we [are] told that\nour animal self is a great force, the secret of the\nold-world magicians, and of the coming race which\nLord Lytton foreshadowed. \"But this power can\nonly be attained by giving the god the sovereignty.\nMake your animal ruler over your self, and he will\nnever rule others.\"\n\nThis teaching will be seen to be identical with\nthat of the closing words of _The Idyll of the White\nLotus_: \"He will learn how to expound spiritual\ntruths, and to enter into the life of his highest self,\nand he can learn also to hold within him the glory\nof that higher self, and yet to retain life upon this\nplanet so long as it shall last, if need be; to retain\nlife in the vigor of manhood, till his entire work is\ncompleted, and he has taught the three truths to all\nwho look for light.\"\n\nThere are three sentences in the book which\nought to be imprinted in the reader's mind, and we\npresent them inversely:\n\n\"Secreted and hidden in the heart of the world\nand the heart of man is the light which can illumine\nall life, the future and the past.\"\n\n\"On the mental steps of a million men Buddha\npassed through the Gates of Gold; and because a\ngreat crowd pressed about the threshold he was able\nto leave behind him words which prove that those\ngates will open.\"\n\n\"This is one of the most important factors in\nthe development of man, the recognition--profound\nand complete recognition--of the law of\nuniversal unity and coherence.\"","title":"Light on the Path and Through the Gates of Gold","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":37761}