Dear Fellow Travelers,
Time to report from Station Alpha out here on the edge.
We’ve been watching all the stormy weather that folks are going through; the disruptions to “normal” daily life that threaten the security of one’s home and family: the economy, environmental disasters, healthcare inequities, wars, political strife, 24/7 unceasing negative media bombardment. It’s a testament to the human spirit that they haven’t all gone nuts.
It’s a hard thing to watch all the people that are buying into the lies that are out there. So many believe that wealth or fame will make them happy, putting faith in people or things that talk the talk but don’t walk the walk.
If only they knew how much the Creator and the Creation wish to fulfill their desires.
I’m sure it’s all part of the Great Letting Go; of seeking the truth and picking up the tools and asking to be part of and serve the Great Perfection and Beneficence of the Great One.
Thanks for all the beacons you’ve sent out from Headquarters.
I’ll be right back home.
Your fellow traveler,
Mark
“Ye shall know the Truth, and the Truth shall set you free.”
From Father Paul: Renunciation
It is said that Krishna, when he was here, had gone behind the blue veil of renunciation. This is something that is not fully understood, but anyone who has gone through the initiation of God-realization passes beyond, and certainly is behind that blue veil; and this is what they were talking about. But somehow there have been many misunderstandings as to what renunciation really consisted of, and what those things which have to do with action.
Some people feel and believe that renunciation is a state in which we take up absolute isolation, and we are not active in the physical world, or the material world at all. Well, they took it from a thing such as a great Master might have attained. There are many people that have gone behind the veil who are not masters and they have attained considerable spiritual evolvement and are very active in the physical world.
It is considered by the mystics, and those who have passed beyond, that we should understand that action is also a necessity if one is going to attain permanent spiritual development. One of the pronounced things that is of this age specifically, and more so than it was in the last age, by far, and that is the fact that you cannot attain lasting spiritual development without action also.
And they have also said that it was much better, and I know this of my own free will and evidence seeing it worked out, that it is much better to take the Path of action—because you can also attain renunciation once the action has started and you have a very definite pattern and plan of procedure in your spiritual life.
There are too many people in these days that think that the attainment of spiritual ability and spiritual sight and the gifts, is a thing which comes haphazardly just because you want it. And it does not. There is distinct self-discipline in everyone’s life before they ever attain any great amount of spiritual understanding and realization. And this—what we’re talking about is not this picture-book proposition that you get for five dollars a throw in the bookstores. Because you may read books from now till the end of your life, and you would not gain realization through it, no matter how much you read about it, you would still not gain it. Because this is a functional thing, this is a real thing, and it is a thing which requires the cooperation of students and teachers to get it—or they do not get it. Because it is a matter of self-discipline and involvement of the individual.
And it is also built up, in the writing of many people, about what is called by the writer “holiness.” There are things which have to do with holiness which have nothing whatsoever to do with things that are usually attributed to holiness. Holiness is not a thing in which we have a figurehead which sits on a throne. There are many great people that you pass on the street without noticing, and some have greater holiness than those who have portrayed themselves, or perpetrated themselves as spiritual leaders, in many of the churches and many of the other places and groups.
And it is only when we begin to define the Reality, and that the keyword for attainment of anything that is real is “service.” And that we have to do things without expectance of any reward, from the material side of life, (and also spiritual) that the really great attainments and great consciousnesses are developed. You don’t develop consciousness by sitting down in meditation alone; it takes a physical base of action in order for it to be a thing which sticks with you...
Devotion and Truth are two different things...it is necessary to co-relate these two...you may sit quietly and meditate, and you may gain considerable peace. You may gain an understanding of some things, even some things of yourself, if you can get out of the way enough to listen. But the actual attainment of spiritual, lasting quality, that something which changes you, is only existent where your senses have moved among the things of the world, in action, and you still maintain the understanding of those things and those people. This is a functional attainment...
The Future
There is now incontrovertible evidence that mankind has just entered the greatest period of change the world has ever known...The task before us now, if we would not perish, is to build the earth.
Humanity has been sleeping—and still sleeps—lulled within the narrowly confining pleasurers of its little closed loves.
In the depths of the human multitude, there slumbers an immense spiritual power which will manifest itself only when we have learned how to break through the dividing walls of our egotism and raise ourselves up to an entirely new perspective, so that habitually and in a practical fashion, we fix our gaze on the universal realities.
If man is to come up to his full measure, he must become conscious of his infinite capacity for carrying himself still further. Teilhard de Chardin
SELF RESPECT
"There is a portion of God dwelling within, and the God without recognizes Itself."
The vital core at the center of each being is the true Self, a very spark of the greater Divinity which ever yearns to reunite with the Whole. This vague longing leads man to seek in many directions for That which he knows is true, but cannot quite remember.
Until the conscious part of man yields to the recognition of this reality of the God within him, and pays it heed and listens, he spends life miserably at war with himself, though he usually thinks it is fate or the world that is against him. It would help more to avoid those head-on collisions with oneself.
The only way you can find release from such a state is to stop fighting your very Self, and "you" get to know YOU. Stop resisting and start getting along with your-Self, knowing It as your point of contact with God.
Making peace with God and with your Self is part of the same thing. And then whom shall you fight? It appears there may be something there inside that you don't like.
You have to like and respect yourself. That doesn't imply pride or arrogance. An egotistical person doesn't necessarily like himself. He may be so busy covering-up that he becomes dazzled and enamored by the false image he is projecting.
When you respect your true Self, you lay down in humility all outer personal idiosyncrasies which stand in the way between you and Reality. The false pretender of the personality-actor has had his say too long already, so let him stand aside for the true Lord to take over.
Ever inclined to underestimate our true selves, we may think, "Oh, I'm so nervous, sensitive, quick-tempered", and so forth, and identify our Selves with faulty attributes. But it need not be so. These negative appearances are surface disturbances that operate only as we let them, rather like clouds passing over the face of the sun. The sun is not changed or darkened by the clouds, only momentarily concealed from view. So, our true selves are not spoiled when overcast, just temporarily unseen.
The actual truth is that beneath all the fury, the shouting and the tears, we are gentler beings, loving and peaceful and harmonious in our true nature.
Happiness, beauty and goodwill--these are the real but sometimes forgotten states of our being. That is truly YOU.
From The Golden Nuggets
Rev. Mother Ruth Blighton
The Guardian of the Light
(Continued from last issue)
At last, breathless from his long climb, chilled by the darkness and cold, shrouded in relentless night with even the lights of the village screened from his view by a seething mass of clouds, the pilgrim reached the lonely figure.
Seeing the traveler approaching, the aged man raised his noble head crowned with silver, and his great kindly eyes, second only in their brightness to the Light he carried, were turned upon the pilgrim.
“My son,” he called in a deep mellow voice, “what seekest thou here amid these mountain tops in the darkness of such a night as this?”
The wanderer answered, “I saw the Light you hold while I was down in the valley and have come to ascertain what it was.”
The Old Man, gazing lovingly at his little lamp, replied: “The Light thou seest is the Light that lighteth every man who cometh into the world. The Light I carry is the life of men. In me thou seest one of those who hath dedicated his soul to the Light. I am one of the Silent Watchers who through the darkness of ignorance and the night of men hold aloft this beacon which showeth that God still keepeth His trust with His children. There are but seven sparks which light the whole world. Under many names man worships them, and under many forms he honors them; but know this: they are but Lights held in the hands of the Compassionate Ones. Thou seest them gleaming through the darkness on yonder mountain peaks.”
“What mountains are these that surround us?” asked the pilgrim; “and why stand you here alone?”
“These are the lofty mountains, the high places of the world, which are always concealed from the world below by clouds and mists,” answered the Old Man. “We are the Sleepless Watchers of the destiny of worlds; we stand on these lofty mountains that all the world may have these sparks of life. My torch was lighted on the altar of Cosmos and hath never gone out. I have stood here since the dawn of Time, since these mountains rose from the darkness of Chaos, faithful to these children of men whose eyes have discerned the mountain peaks from whence cometh their Light.”
“Are you not lonely here amid the ice and snow?” “Yes, verily,” answered the Old Man, a strange, sad look in his eyes; “we are ever alone. We are the Seven Watchers through the nights of human ignorance; the Compassionate Sons of humanity are the lords and masters. Here through the ages we stand. We are of the Lonely Ones, and these mountain tops are our homes.”
“But surely, father, others will come to relieve your vigil that you may rest, and they will hold aloft your lamp.”
“Alas! My son, for ages we have waited, but none will hold our lights.”
“But surely some come to help you? Some climb these mountains?”
“Yes,” replied the keeper of the lamp, “the path has been worn smooth by many feet but when those who come have felt the cold touch of night on the mountain top, heard the sighs of the wind chilled by the breath of glaciers, they stay but a little while; then they draw the folds of their garments about them and return again to the valleys below. It is too cold, too lonely, too silent. There is not glory in carrying this Light, no honor in the sight of men, no reward but the endless vigil. Few indeed will even try to keep alight this solitary flame.”
The pilgrim thought for a few moments, his heart too full for words. At last he turned to the Old Man, saying: “Father, let me hold your lamp, let me keep aloft your beacon light that those upon the other mountains shall know you have been true to your trust.”
The Lonely One raised his head, and his great eyes gazed long and searchingly at the pilgrim. Then he pointed upward to the skies, where far above the mountain tops the orbs of heaven shone down in silent glory, and the great procession of stars marched on through the night in perpetual pageantry.
The Old Sentinel spoke, his voice thrilling with an eloquence divine: “Yonder, my son, you see the lamps that light the heavens.. Each distant spark that shines forth signifies that the pact between the Creator and His creation has not been broken. When I have found someone to carry my Light, to stand in my place faithful and true, I will journey to the Stars. From the corners of the heavens, from the mystic arches of creation, voices call; the fires upon unnumbered altars must be kept burning through the darkness of Creation’s sleep. When one of earth is found to bear this flame, then indeed the Children of the Heavens rejoice and the one who is freed goes forth to hold a greater Light.”
The pilgrim bowed his head in thought, and at last, walking over to the lonely figure humbly said: “Father, I will carry the Light, my hand shall hold it aloft, for you are old and I am young. Give me the lamp, I swear that I will serve it and feed it with all the love and compassion of my soul.”
The face of the Aged Man lit up for a moment, and he gave the Lamp to the pilgrim.
“My blessings are with you, my son, for while your spirit is willing beware lest the flesh be weak. For ages no one but myself has held the Light. Since first these mountains came, I alone have supported it, watched it, protected it, for if its flickering gleams die out, with them fails the light in the souls of men. We have never broken faith with man, nor with one another, and through the dim ages that have passed, when even our names were used to curse our brothers, we Silent Seven have loved those who have betrayed us, served those who have denied us, and illumined those who have ridiculed us. Do you likewise, for you are no longer one of earth. I go to other works.”
Slowly the white-robed figure turned and walked away over the crunching snow, growing smaller and smaller in the distance.
The watching pilgrim saw the feeble figure, with its flowing beard, leaning heavily upon its staff, reach the very edge of the great cliffs that rose from the valleys below. Then the Old Man glided off into the sky, and with one last wave of the hand passed gradually from sight, amid the stars of the firmament. It seemed that the lights of heaven shone brighter as he vanished among them, while the beacons on the mountains swayed and gleamed with a more glorious splendor.
The pilgrim, filled with the radiance of his ideal, stood holding the lamp, his heart filled with pure sentiments and noble purposes. He felt the majesty and the power that comes to one of the Guardians of Creation. The greatest and grandest in his nature spoke; the unselfish purpose of his labor thrilled him with life and hope.
So he stood, the wind and the snow beating against him. Great rumblings and roarings, as of avalanches shooting down the mountain side, the crackling of glaciers, and the howl of wolves broke the silence of his vigil.
The hours passed, his arm grew weary and he too swayed upon his staff with fatigue; but for reasons unknown he could not lower the Light. His fingers seemed fastened to the Lamp which glowed steadily in spite of his trembling arm. The chill of the snows came upon him, which only those know who have faced death amidst their silent, silvery wastes.
By degrees a great fear invaded the heart of the pilgrim. Must he stand upon that mountain top forever? Would that night ever have an end? Would the sun never shine again?
The years rolled on, and ages were counted with the dead; and still the watcher, now old and gray himself, held the Light upon the mountain top. But it was no longer with exaltation in his heart, no longer for love of his task. His eyes were fixed longingly on the valleys below. His mind fashioned again and again pictures of the things he had known; smiling faces of those he had left behind forever kept forming in the reeling mists which eternally surrounded him. He had begun to feel what it was to be apart. He was alone in a great silence broken only by Nature’s sounds. He prayed that he might hear a human voice! His mind reeled, his brain grew hazy; there was but one thought—he must leave that fearful place. He could not, would not, stand there through all eternity; he had not the strength to face the lonely, friendless ages which stretched out before him.
Slowly his agony consumed him until he raved at the very Light he bore. Dying for friendship and love, solitary on the mountain top, he cursed the very hour that brought him into being. Little by little the flame in his hand grew dim as the spark of truth in his own soul died out, until even the friendliness of its warming glow was denied him. Yet he could not escape, he could not move; he must remain with his self-appointed task. He prayed unto God for mercy; he begged that the powers of darkness release him—but still he stood alone in the fields of snow bearing aloft the Light which grew feebler every day.
At last the great despair seized him, the despair that many have felt—the helplessness, the hopelessness without end! He pitied the Lonely Watcher whose place he had taken, he was conscious of the gray beard on his own cheeks, he thought of the years of life he felt were wasted. Then his eyes turned to the other mountains on whose peaks the light still glowed, and in spite of his great anguish his heart went out to them.
Suddenly, after what seemed an eternity, his soul was filled with joy and his life welled up again, for returning through the sky he saw the white-robed form of the Silent Watcher. Life a drifting shadow of night the aged figure walked across the arch of the heaven and finally placed his sandalled foot upon the crunching snow of the mountain and, staff in hand, reached the side of the Lonely One.
from The Ways of the Lonely Ones (to be continued)
The Ghostly Brother
BROTHER, Brother, calling
me Like a distant surfy sea,
Like a wind that moans and grieves All
night long about the eaves:
Let me rest a little span;
Long I've followed, followed fast;
Now I wish to be a man, Disconnected from the Vast!
Let me stop a little while,Feel this snug world's pulses beat,
Glory in a baby's smile,Hear it prattle, round my feet;
Eat and sleep and love and live,Thankful ever for the dawn;
Wanting what the world can give-- With the
cosmic curtains drawn!
Brother, Brother, break
the gyves!
Burst the prison, Son of Power!
Product of forgotten lives,
Seedling of the final flower!
What to you are nights and days,
Drifting snow or rainy flaw,
Love or hate or blame or praise--
Heir unto the Outer Awe?
I am breathless from the flight Through the sped-cleft, awful night!
Panting, let me rest awhile In this pleasant aether-isle.
Here, content with transient things, How the witless dweller sings,
Rears his brood and steers his plow, Nursing at the breasts of Now!
Here the meanest, yea, the slave Claims the heirloom of a grave!
O, this little world is blest—Brother, Brother, let me rest!
I am you and you are I! When the world is cherished most,
You shall hear my haunting cry,
See me rising like a ghost.
I am all that you have been, Are not now, but soon shall be!
Thralled awhile by dust and din—Brother, Brother, follow me!
‘Tis a lonesome, endless quest; I am weary; I would rest.
Though I seek to fly from you, Like a shadow, you pursue.
Do I conquer? You are there, Claiming half the victor’s share.
When the night-shades fray and lift, “Tis your veiled face lights the rift.
In the sighing of the rain, Your voice goads me like a pain.
Happy in a narrow trust, Let me serve the lesser will
One brief hour—and then, to dust!
O, the dead are very still!
Brother, Brother, follow hence!
Ours the wild, unflagging speed!
Through the outer walls of sense,
Follow, follow where I lead!
Love and hate and grief and fear—Tis the geocentric dream!
Only the shadows linger here, Cast by the eternal Gleam!
Follow, follow, follow fast!—Somewhere out of Time and Place,
You shall life the veil at last,
You shall look upon my face;
Look upon my face and die,
Solver of the Mystery!
I am you and you are I—Brother, Brother, follow me!
John Neihardt (author of Black Elk Speaks)