A TEXTBOOK OF THEOSOPHY

by C.W.Leadbeater

Editions in 1912, 1914, 1918, 1925, 1937

CONTENTS

Chapter ---1- What Theosophy Is

Chapter ---2- From the Absolute to Man

Chapter -- 3- The Formation of a Solar System

Chapter --4- The Evolution of Life

Chapter --5- The Constitution of Man

Chapter --6- After Death

Chapter --7- Reincarnation

Chapter --8- The Purpose of Life

Chapter --9- The Planetary Chains

Chapter -10-The Result of Theosophical Study

CHAPTER 1

WHAT THEOSOPHY IS

(Page 1 ) � There is a school of philosophy stil in existence of which modern culture has lost sight.� In

these words Mr. A. P. Sinnett began his1881 book, The Occult World, the first popular exposition of

Theosophy, published thirty years ago. During the years that have passed since then, many thousands

have learned wisdom in that school, yet to the majority its teachings are stil unknown, and they can give

only the vaguest of replies to the query, �What is Theosophy?�

Two books already exist which answer that question: Mr. Sinnett�s Esoteric Buddhism and Mrs.

Besant�s The Ancient Wisdom. I have no thought of entering into competition with those standard works;

what I desire is to present a statement, as clear and simple as I can make it, which may be regarded as

introductory to them.

We often speak of Theosophy as not in itself a religion, but the truth which lies behind al religions alike.

That is so; yet, from another point of view, we may surely say that it is at once a philosophy, because it

puts plainly before us an explanation of the scheme (Page 2) of evolution of both the souls and the bodies

contained, in our solar system. It is a religion in so far as, having shown us the course of ordinary evolution, it also puts before us and advises a method of shortening that course, so that by conscious

effort we may progress more directly towards the goal. It is a science, because it treats both these

subjects as matters not of theological belief but of direct knowledge obtainable by study and investigation.

It asserts that man has no need to trust to blind faith, because he has within him latent powers which,

when aroused, enable him to see and examine for himself, and it proceeds to prove its case by showing

how those powers may be awakened. It is itself a result of the awakening of such powers by men, for the

teachings which it puts before us are founded upon direct observations made in the past, and rendered

possible only by such development.

As a philosophy, it explains to us that the solar system is a careful y - ordered mechanism, a

manifestation of a magnificent life, of which man is but a smal part. Nevertheless, it takes up that smal

part which immediately concerns us, and treats it exhaustively under three heads � present, past and

future.

It deals with the present by describing what man real y is, as seen by means of developed faculties. It is

customary to speak of man as having a soul. Theosophy, as the result of direct investigation, reverses

that dictum, and states that man is a soul, and has a body � in fact several bodies, which are his vehicles

and instruments in various worlds. These worlds are (Page 3) not separate in space; they are

simultaneously present with us, here and now, and can be examined; they are the divisions of the

material side of Nature � different degrees of density in the aggregation of matter, as wil presently be

explained in detail. Man has an existence in several of these, but is normal y conscious only of the lowest,

though sometimes in dreams and trances he has glimpses of some of the others. What is cal ed death is

the laying aside of the vehicle belonging to this lowest world, but the soul or real man in a higher world is no more changed or affected by this than the physical man is changed or affected when he removes his

overcoat. Al this is a matter, not of speculation, but of observation and experiment.

Theosophy has much to tel us of the past history of man � of how in the course of evolution he has

come to what he now is. This also is a matter of observation, because of the fact that there exists an

indelible record of al that has taken place � a sort of memory of Nature � by examining which the

scenes of earlier evolution may be made to pass before the eyes of the investigator as though they were

happening at this moment. By thus studying the past we learn that man is divine in origin and that he has

a long evolution behind him � a double evolution, that of the life or soul within, and that of the outer form.

We learn, too, that the life of man as a soul is of what to us seems enormous length, and that what we

have been in the habit of cal ing his life is in reality only one day of his real existence. He has already

lived through many such days, and has many more of them yet before him; and if we wish to understand

the (Page 4 ) real life and its object, we must consider it in relation not only to this one day of it, which begins with birth and ends with death, but also to the days which have gone before and those which are

yet to come.

Of those that are yet to come there is also much to be said, and on this subject too a great deal of definite information is available. Such information is obtainable, first, from men who have already passed much

further along the road of evolution than we, and have consequently direct experience of it; and, secondly,

from inferences drawn from the obvious direction of the steps which we seem to have been previously

taken. The goal of this particular cycle, is in sight, though stil far above us but it would seem that, even when that has been attained, an infinity of progress stil lies before everyone who is wil ing to undertake it.

One of the most striking advantages of Theosophy is that the light which it brings to us at once solves

many of our problems, clears away many difficulties, accounts for the apparent injustices of life, and in al

directions brings order out of seeming chaos. Thus while some of its teaching is based upon the

observation of forces whose direct working is somewhat beyond the ken of the ordinary man of the world,

if the latter wil accept it as a hypothesis he wil very soon come to see that it must be a correct one,

because it, and it alone, furnishes a coherent and reasonable explanation of the drama of life which is

being played before him.

The existence of Perfected Men, and the possibility of coming into touch with Them and being taught� by (Page 5) Them, are prominent among the great new truths which Theosophy brings to the Western World.

Another of them is the stupendous fact that the world is not drifting blindly into anarchy, but that its

progress is under the control of a perfectly organized Hierarchy, so that final failure even for the tiniest of its units is of al impossibilities the most impossible. A glimpse of the working of that Hierarchy inevitably engenders the desire to co-operate with it, to serve under it, in however humble a capacity, and some

time in the far-distant future to be worthy to join the outer fringes of its ranks.

This brings us to that aspect of Theosophy which we have cal ed religious. Those who come to know and

to understand these things are dissatisfied with the slow aeons of evolution; they yearn to become more

immediately useful, and so they demand and obtain knowledge of the shorter but steeper Path. There is

no possibility of escaping the amount of work that has to be done. It is like carrying a load up a mountain;

whether one carries it straight up a steep path or more gradual y by a road of gentle slope, precisely the

same number of foot-pounds must be exerted. Therefore to do the same work in a smal fraction of the

time means determined effort. It can be done, however, for it has been done; and those who have done it

agree that it far more than repays the trouble. The limitations of the various vehicles are thereby gradual y transcended, and the liberated man becomes an intel igent co-worker in the mighty plan for the evolution

of al beings.

In its capacity as a religion, too, Theosophy gives (Page 6) its fol owers a rule of life, based not on al eged commands delivered at some remote period of the past, but on plain common sense as indicated by

observed facts. The attitude of the student of Theosophy towards the rules which it prescribes resembles

rather that which we adopt to hygienic regulations than obedience to religious commandments. We may

say, if we wish, that this thing or that is in accordance with the divine Wil , for the divine Wil is expressed in what we know as the laws of nature. Because that Wil wisely ordereth al things, to infringe its laws

means to disturb the smooth working of the scheme, to hold back for a moment that fragment or tiny part

of evolution, and consequently to bring discomfort upon ourselves and others. It is for that reason that the

wise man avoids infringing them � not to escape the imaginary wrath of some offended deity.

But if from a certain point of view we may think of Theosophy as a religion, we must note two great points

of difference between it and what is ordinarily cal ed religion in the West. First, it neither demands belief from its fol owers, nor does it even speak of belief in the sense in which that word is usual y employed.

The student of occult science either knows a thing or suspends his judgment about it; there is no place in

his scheme for blind faith. Natural y, beginners in the study cannot yet know for themselves, so they are

asked to read the results of the various observations and to deal with them as probable hypothesis �

provisional y to accept and act upon them, until such time as they can prove for themselves.

Secondly, Theosophy never endeavours to convert (Page 7) any man from whatever religion he already

holds. On the contrary, it explains his religion to him, and enables him to see in it deeper meanings than

he has ever known before. It teaches him to understand it and live it better than he did, and in many

cases it gives back to him, on a higher and more intel igent level, the faith in it which he had previously al but lost.

Theosophy has its aspect as a science also; it is in very truth a science of life, a science of the soul. It

applies to everything the scientific method of oft-repeated, painstaking observation, and then tabulates

the results and makes deductions from them. In this way it has investigated the various planes of nature,

the conditions of man�s consciousness during life and after what is commonly cal ed death. It cannot be

too often repeated that its statements on al these matters are not vague guesses or tenets of faith, but

are based upon direct and oft-repeated observation of what happens. Its investigators have dealt also to a

certain extent with subjects more in the range of ordinary science, as may be seen by those who read the

recently issued book on Occult Chemistry.

Thus we see that Theosophy combines within itself some of the characteristics of philosophy, religion and

science. What, it might be asked, is its gospel for this weary world? What are the main points which

emerge from its investigations? What are the great facts which it has to lay before humanity?

They have been wel summed up under three main heads.

�There are three truths which are absolute, and (Page 8) which cannot be lost, but yet may remain silent

for lack of speech.

�The soul of man is immortal, and its future is the future of a thing whose growth and splendour has no

limit.

�The principle which gives life dwel s in us and without us, is undying and eternal y beneficent, is not

heard or seen or smelt, but is perceived by the man who desires perception

�Each man is his own absolute lawgiver; the dispenser of glory or gloom to himself; the decreer of his

life, his reward, his punishment.

�These truths, which are as great as is life itself, are as simple as the simplest mind of man�.

Put shortly, and in the language of the man of the street, this means that God is good, that man is

immortal, and that as we sow so we must reap. There is a definite scheme of things; it is under intel igent

direction and works under immutable laws. Man has his place in this scheme and is living under these

laws. If he understands them� and co-operates with them, he wil advance rapidly and wil be happy; if he

does not understand them � if wittingly or unwittingly, he breaks them, he wil delay his progress and be

miserable. These are not theories, but proved facts. Let him who doubts read on, and he wil see. (Page

9)

CHAPTER II

FROM THE ABSOLUTE TO MAN

Of the Absolute, the Infinite, the Al -embracing, we can at our present stage know nothing, except that It

is; we can say nothing that is not a limitation, and therefore inaccurate.

In It are innumerable universes; in each universe countless solar systems. Each solar system is the

expression of a mighty Being, whom we cal the Logos, the Word of God, the Solar Deity. He is to it al

that men mean by God. He permeates it; there is nothing in it which is not He; it is the manifestation of

Him in such matter as we can see. Yet He exists above it and outside it, living a stupendous life of His

own among His Peers. As is said in Eastern Scripture: �Having permeated this whole universe with one

fragment of Myself, I remain�.

Of this higher life of His we can know nothing. But of the fragment of His life which energizes His system

we may know something in the lower levels of its manifestation. We may not see Him, but we may see

His power at work. No one who is clairvoyant can be atheistic; the evidence is too tremendous.

Out of Himself He has cal ed this mighty system into being. We who are in it are evolving fragments of His

life, Sparks of His divine Fire; from Him we al have come; into Him we shal al return.

Many have asked why He as done this; why He (Page 10) has emanated from Himself al this system;

why He has sent us forth to face the storms of life. We cannot know, nor is the question practical; suffice it that we are here, and we must do our best. Yet many philosophers have speculated on this point and

many suggestions have been made. The most beautiful that I know is that of a Gnostic philosopher:

�God is Love, but Love itself cannot be perfect unless it has those upon whom it can be lavished and by

whom it can be returned. Therefore He put forth of Himself into matter, and He limited His glory, in order

that through this natural and slow process of evolution we might come into being; and we in turn

according to His wil are to develop until we reach even His own level, and then the very love of God itself

wil become more perfect, because it wil then be lavished on those, His own children, who wil ful y understand and return it, and so His great scheme wil be realized and His Wil be done�.

At what stupendous elevation His consciousness abides we know not, nor can we know its true nature as

it shows itself there. But when He puts Himself down into such conditions as are within our reach, His

manifestation is ever threefold, and so al religions have imaged Him as a Trinity. Three, yet

fundamental y One; Three Persons (for person means a mask) yet one God, showing Himself in those

Three Aspects. Three to us, looking at Them from below, because Their functions are different; one to

Him, because He knows Them to be but facets of Himself.

Al three of these Aspects are concerned in the evolution of the solar System; al Three are also

concerned (Page 11) in the evolution of man. This evolution is His wil ; the method of it is His plan.

Next below this Solar Deity, yet also in some mysterious manner part of Him, come His seven Ministers,

sometimes cal ed the Planetary Spirits. Using an analogy drawn from the physiology of our own body,

Their relation to Him is like that of the ganglia or the nerve centers of the brain. Al evolution which comes forth from Him comes through one or other of Them.

Under Them in turn come vast hosts or order of spiritual beings, whom we cal angels or devas. We do

not yet know al the functions which They fulfil in different parts of this wonderful scheme, but we find

some of them intimately connected with the building of the system and the unfolding of life within it.

Here in our world there is a great Official who represents the Solar Deity, and is in absolute control of al

the evolution that takes place upon this planet. We may image Him as the true King of this world, and

under Him are ministers in charge of different departments. One of these departments is concerned with

the evolution of the different races of humanity, so that for each great race there is a Head who founds it,

differentiates it from al others, and watches over its development. Another department is that of religion

and education, and it is from this that al the� greatest teachers of history have come � that al religions

have been sent forth. The great Official at the head of this department either comes Himself or sends one

of His pupils to found a new religion when He decides that one is needed.

Therefore al religions, at the time of their first (Page 12) presentation to the world, have contained a

definite statement of the Truth, and in its fundamentals this Truth has been always the same. The

presentations of it have varied because of differences in the races to who it was offered. The condition of

civilization� and the degree of evolution obtained by various races have made it desirable to present this

one Truth in divers forms. But the inner Truth is always the same, and the source from which it comes is

the same, even though the external phases may appear to be different and even contradictory. It is foolish

for men to wrangle over the question of the superiority of one teacher or one form of teaching to another,

for the teacher is always one sent by the Great Brotherhood of Adepts, and in al its important points, in its ethical and moral principles, the teaching has always been the same.

There is in the world a body of Truth which lies at the back of al these religions, and represents the facts of nature as far as they are at present known to man. In the outer world, because of their ignorance of

this, people are always disputing and arguing about whether there is a God; whether man survives death;

whether definite progress is possible for him, and what is his relation to the universe. These questions are

ever present in the mind of man as soon as intel igence is awakened. They are not unanswerable, as is

frequently supposed; the answers to them are within the reach of anyone who wil make proper efforts to

find them. The truth is obtainable, and the conditions of its attainment are possible of achievement by

anyone who wil make the effort. (Page 13)

In the earlier stages of the development of humanity, the great Officials of the Hierarchy are provided from

outside, from other and more highly evolved parts of the system, but as soon as men can be trained to

the necessary level of power and wisdom these offices are held by them. In order to be fit to hold such an

office a man must raise himself to a very high level, and must become what is cal ed an adept � a being

of goodness, power and wisdom so great that He towers above the rest of humanity, for He has already

attained the summit of ordinary human evolution; He has achieved what the plan of the Deity marked out

for Him to achieve during this age or dispensation. But His evolution later on continues beyond that level

� continues to divinity.

A large number of men have attained the Adept level � men not of one nation, but of al the leading

nations of the world � rare souls who with indomitable courage have stormed the fortresses of nature,

and captured her innermost secrets, and so have truly earned the right to be cal ed Adepts. Among Them

there are many degrees and many lines of activity; but always some of Them remain within touch of our

earth as members of this Hierarchy which has in charge the administration of the affairs of our world and

of the spiritual evolution of our humanity.

This august body is often cal ed the Great White Brotherhood, but its members are not a community al

living together. Each of Them, to a large extent, draws Himself apart from the world, and They are in

constant communication with one another and with Their Head; but Their knowledge of higher forces

(Page 14 ) is so great that this is achieved without any necessity for meeting in the physical world. In

many cases They continue to live each in His own country, and Their power remains unsuspected among

those who live near Them. Any man who wil may attract their attention, but he can do it only by showing

himself worthy of Their notice. None need fear that his efforts wil pass unnoticed; such oversight is

impossible, for the man who is devoting himself to service such as this, stands out from the rest of

humanity like a great flame in a dark night. A few of these great Adepts, who are thus working for the

good of the world, are wil ing to take on apprentices those who have resolved to devote themselves

utterly to the services of mankind; such Adepts are cal ed Masters.

One of these apprentices was Helena Petrovna Blavatsky � a great soul who was sent out to offer

knowledge to the world some forty years ago [1875]. With Colonel Henry Steele Olcott she founded the

Theosophical Society for the spread of this knowledge which she had to give. Among those who came

into contact with her in those early days was Mr. A. P. Sinnett, the editor of The Pioneer, and his keen

intel ect at once grasped the magnitude and the importance of the teaching which she put before him.

Although Madame Blavatsky herself had previously written Isis Unveiled, it had attracted but little

attention, and it was Mr. Sinnett who first made the teaching real y available for western readers in his two books, The Occult World and Esoteric Buddhism.

It was through these works that I myself first came to know their author, and afterwards Madame

Blavatsky (Page 15) herself; from both of them I learned much. When I asked Madame Blavatsky how one

could learn stil more, how one could make definite progress along the Path which she pointed out to us,

she told me of the possibility that other students might be accepted as apprentices by the great Masters,

even as she herself had been accepted, and that the only way to gain such acceptance was to show

oneself worthy of it by earnest and altruistic work. She told me that to reach that goal a man must be

absolutely one-pointed in his determination; that no one who tried to serve both God and Mammon could

ever hope to succeed. One of these Masters Himself has said: �In order to succeed, a pupil must leave

his own world and come into ours�.

This means that he must cease to be one of the majority who live for wealth and power, and must join the

tiny majority who care nothing for such things, but live only in order to devote themselves selflessly to the good of the world. She warned us clearly that the way was difficult to tread, that we should be

misunderstood and reviled by those who stil lived in the world, and that we had nothing to look forward to

but the hardest of hard work; and though the result was sure, no one could foretel how long it would take

to arrive at it. Some of us accepted these conditions joyful y, and we have never for a moment regretted

the decision.

After some years of work I had the privilege of coming into contact with these great Masters of the

Wisdom; from Them I learnt many things � among others, how to verify for myself at first hand most

(Page 16) of the teachings which They had given. So that, in this matter, I write of what I know, and what I

have seen for myself. Certain points are mentioned in the teaching, for the verification of which powers

are required far beyond anything which I have gained so far. Of them, I can only say that they are

consistent with what I do know, and in many cases are necessary as hypotheses to account for what I

have seen. They came to me along with the rest of the theosophical system upon the authority of these

mighty Teachers. Since then I have learned to examine for myself by far the greater part of what I was told, and I have found the information given to me to be correct in every particular; therefore I am justified in assuming the probability that that other part, which as yet I cannot verify, wil also prove to be correct when I arrive at its level.

To attain the honour of being accepted as an apprentice of one of the Masters of the Wisdom is the object

set before himself by every earnest Theosophical student. But it means a determined effort. There have

always been men who were wil ing to make the necessary effort, and therefore there have always been

men who knew. The knowledge is so transcendent that when a man grasps it ful y he becomes more than

man, and he passes beyond our ken.

But there are stages in the acquirement of this knowledge, and we may learn much, if we wil , from those

who themselves are stil in process of learning; for al human beings stand on one or other of the rungs of

the ladder of evolution. The primitive stand at its foot; we who are civilized beings have already (Page 17)

climbed part of the way. But though we can look back and see rungs of the ladder below us which we

have already passed, we may also look up and see many rungs above us to which we have not yet

attained. Just as men are standing even now on each of the rungs below us, so that we can see the

stages by which man has mounted, so also are there men standing on each of the rungs above us, so

that from studying them we may see how man shal mount in the future. Precisely because we see men

on every step of this ladder, which leads up to a glory which as yet we have no words to express, we

know that the ascent to that glory is possible for us. Those who stand high above us, so high that They

seem to us as gods in Their marvel ous knowledge and power, tel us that They stood not long since

where we are standing now, and They indicate to us clearly the steps which lie between, which we also

must tread if we would be as They. (Page 18)

CHAPTER III

THE FORMATION OF A SOLAR SYSTEM

The beginning of the universe (if ever it had a beginning) is beyond our ken. At the earliest point of history that we can reach, the two great opposites of Spirit and matter, of life and form, are already in ful activity.

We find that the ordinary conception of matter needs a revision, for what are commonly cal ed force and

matter are in reality only two varieties of Spirit at different stages in evolution, and the real matter or basis of everything lies in the background unperceived. A French scientist has recently said: �There is no

matter; there is nothing but holes in the aether�.

This also agrees with the celebrated theory of Professor Osborne Reynolds. Occult investigation shows

this to be the correct view, and in that way explains what Oriental sacred books mean when they say that

matter is an il usion.

The ultimate root-matter as seen at our level is what scientists cal the aether of space. ( This has been

described in Occult Chemistry under the name of koilon) To every physical sense the space occupied by

it appears empty, yet in reality this aether is far denser than anything of which we can conceive. Its

density is defined by Professor Reynolds as being ten thousand (Page 19) times greater than that of

water, and it means pressure as seven hundred and fifty thousand tons to the square inch.

This substance is perceptible only to highly developed clairvoyant power. We must assume a time

(though we have no direct knowledge on this point) when this substance fil ed al space. We must also

suppose that some great Being (not the Deity of a solar system, but some Being almost infinitely higher

than that) changed this condition of rest by pouring out His spirit or force into a certain section of this

matter, a section of the size of a whole universe. The effect of the introduction of this force is at that of the blowing of a mighty breath; it has formed within this aether an incalculable number of tiny spherical

bubbles (The bubbles are spoken of in The Secret Doctrine as the holes which Fohat digs in space), and

these bubbles are the ultimate atoms of which what we cal matter is composed. They are not the atoms

of the chemist, nor even the ultimate atoms of the physical world. They stand at a far higher level, and

what are usual y cal ed atoms are composed of vast aggregations of these bubbles, as wil be seen later.

When the Solar Deity begins to make His system, He finds ready to His hand this material � this infinite mass of tiny bubbles which can be built up into various kinds of matter as we know it. He commences by

defining the limit of His field of activity, a vast sphere whose circumference is far larger than the orbit of the outermost of His future planets. Within the limit of that sphere He sets up a kind of (Page 20) gigantic

vortex � a motion which sweeps together al the bubbles into a vast central mass, the material of the

nebula that is to be.

Into this vast revolving sphere He sends forth successive impulses of force, gathering together the

bubbles into ever more and more complex aggregations, and producing in this way seven gigantic

interpenetrating worlds of matter of different degrees of density, al concentric and al occupying the same

space.

Acting through His Third Aspect, He sends forth into this stupendous sphere the first of these impulses. It

sets up al through the sphere a vast number of tiny vortices, each of which draws into itself forty-nine

bubbles and arranges them in a certain shape. These little groupings of bubbles so formed are the atoms

of the second of the interpenetrating worlds. The whole number of the bubbles is not used in this way,

sufficient being left in the dissociated state to act as atoms for the first and highest of these worlds. In due time comes the second impulse, which seizes upon nearly al these forty nine bubble atoms (leaving only

enough to provide atoms for the second world), draws them back into itself and then, throwing them out

again, sets up among them vortices, each of which holds within itself 2,401 bubbles (49 2). These form

the atoms of the third world. Again after a time comes a third impulse, which in the same way seizes upon

nearly al these 2,401 bubble atoms, draws them back again into their original form, and again throws

them outward once more as the atoms of the fourth world � (Page 21) each atom containing this time 49

3 bubbles. This process is repeated until the sixth of these successive impulses has built the atom of the

seventh or lowest world � that atom containing 49 6 of the original bubbles.

This atom of the seventh world is the ultimate atom of the physical world � not any of the atoms of which

chemists speak, but that ultimate out of which al their atoms are made. We have at this stage arrived at

that condition of affairs in which the vast whirling sphere contains within itself seven types of matter, al

one in essence, because al built of the same kind of bubbles, but differing in their degree of density. Al

these types are freely intermingled, so that specimens of each type would be found in a smal portion of

the sphere taken at random in any part of it, with, however, a general tendency of the heavier atoms to

gravitate more and more towards the center.

The seventh impulse sent out from the Third Aspect of the Deity does not, as before, draw back the

physical atoms which were last made into the original dissociated bubbles, but draws them together into

certain aggregations, thus making a number of different kinds of what may be cal ed proto-elements, and

these again are joined together into the various forms which are known to science as chemical elements.

The making of these extends over a period of ages, and they are made in a certain definite order by the

interaction of several forces, as is correctly indicated in Sir Wil iam Crookes� paper on The Genesis of

the Elements. Indeed the process of their making it is not even (Page 22) now concluded; uranium is the

latest and heaviest element so far as we know, but others stil more complicated may perhaps be

produced in the future.

As ages rol on the condensation increased, and presently the stage of a vast glowing nebula was

reached. As it cooled, stil rapidly rotating, it flattened into a huge disc and gradual y broke up into rings surrounding a central body � an arrangement not unlike that which Saturn exhibits at the present day,

though on a far larger scale. As the time drew near when the planets would be required for the purposes

of evolution, the Deity set up somewhere in the thickness of each ring a subsidiary vortex, into which a

great deal of the matter of the ring was by degrees col ected. The col isions of the gathered fragments

caused a revival of the heat, and the resulting planet was for a long time a mass of glowing gas. Little by

little it cooled once more, until it became fit to be the theatre of life such as ours. Thus were al the planets formed.

Almost al the matter of those interpenetrating worlds was by this time concentrated into the newly formed

planets. Each of them was and is composed of al those different kinds of matter. The earth upon which

we are now living is not merely a great bal of physical matter, built of the atoms of that lowest world, but has also attached to it an abundant supply of matter of the sixth, the fifth, the fourth and other worlds. It is wel known to al students of science that particles of matter never actual y touch one another, even in the

hardest of substances. The spaces between (Page 23) them are always far greater in proportion than their

own size � enormously greater. So there is ample room for al the other kinds of atoms of al those other

worlds, not only to lie between the atoms of the denser matter, but to move quite freely among them and

around them. Consequently this globe upon which we live is not one world, but seven interpenetrating

worlds, al occupying the same space, except that the finer types of matter extend further from the center

than does the denser matter.

We have given names to these interpenetrating worlds for convenience in speaking of them. No name is

needed for the first, as man is not yet in direct connection with it; but when it is necessary to mention it, it may be cal ed the divine world. The second is described as the monadic, because in it exist those Sparks

of the divine Life which we cal the human Monads; but neither of these can be touched by the highest

clairvoyant investigations at present possible for us. The third sphere, whose atoms contain 2,401

bubbles, is cal ed the spiritual world, because in it functions the highest Spirit in man as now constituted.

The fourth is the intuitional world (Previously cal ed in theosophical literature the buddhic plane) because

from it come the highest intuitions. The fifth is the mental world, because of its matter is built the mind of man. The sixth is cal ed the emotional or astral world, because the emotions of man cause undulations in

its matter. (The name astral was given to it by mediaeval alchemists, because its matter is starry or

shining as (Page 24) compared to that of the denser world). The seventh world, composed of the type of

matter which we see al around us, is cal ed the physical.

The matter of which al these interpenetrating worlds are built is essential y the same matter, but

differently arranged and of different degrees of density. Therefore the rates at which these various types

of matter normal y vibrate differ also. They may be considered as a vast gamut of undulations consisting

of many octaves. The physical matter uses a certain number of the lowest of these octaves, the astral

matter another group of octaves just above that, the mental matter a stil further group, and so on.

Not only has each of these worlds its own type of matter; it has also its own set of aggregations of that

matter � its own substances. In each world we arrange these substances in seven classes according to

the rate at which their molecules vibrate. Usual y, but not invariably, the slower oscil ation involves also a larger molecule � a molecule, that is built up by a special arrangement of the smal er molecules of the

next higher subdivision. The application of heat increases the size of the molecules and also quickens

and amplifies their undulation, so that they cover more ground, and the object as a whole expands, until

the point is reached where the aggregation of molecules breaks up, and the latter passes from one

condition to that next above it. In the matter of the physical world the seven subdivisions are represented

by seven degrees of density of matter, to which, beginning from below upwards, we give the names solid

liquid, gaseous, etheric, super-etheric, subatomic and atomic.(Page 25)

The atomic subdivision is one in which al forms are built by the compression into certain shapes of the

physical atoms, without any previous col ection of these atoms into blocks or molecules. Typifying the

physical ultimate atom for the moment by a brick, any form in the atomic subdivision would be made by

gathering together some of the bricks, and building them into a certain shape. In order to make matter for

the next lower subdivision, a certain number of the bricks (atoms) would be first gathered together and

cemented into smal blocks of say four bricks each, five bricks each, six bricks or seven bricks; and then

these blocks so made would be used as building-stones. For the next subdivision several of the blocks of

the second subdivision cemented together in certain shapes would form building-stones, and so on to the

lowest.

To transfer any substance from the solid condition to the liquid (that is to say, to melt it) is to increase the vibration of its compound molecules until at last they are shaken apart into the simpler molecules of which

they were built. This process can in al cases be repeated again and again until final y any and every

physical substance can be reduced to the ultimate atoms of the physical world.

Each of these worlds has its inhabitants, whose senses are normal y capable of responding to the undulations of their own world only. A man living (as we are al doing) in the physical world sees, hears,

feels, by vibrations connected with the physical matter around him. He is equal y surrounded by the astral

and mental and other worlds which are interpenetrating his own denser world, but of them he is normal y

(Page 26) unconscious, because his senses cannot respond to the oscil ations of their matter, just as our

physical eyes cannot see by the vibrations of ultraviolet light, although scientific experiments show that

they exist and there are other consciousnesses with differently-formed organs who can see by them. A

being living in the astral world might be occupying the very same space as a being living in the physical

world, yet each would be entirely unconscious of the other and would in no way impede the free

movement of the other. The same is true of al the other worlds. We are at this moment surrounded by

these worlds of finer matter, as close to us as the world we see, and their inhabitants are passing through

us and about us, but we are entirely unconscious of them.

Since our evolution is centered at present upon this globe which we cal the earth, it is in connection with

it only that we shal be speaking of these higher worlds, so in future when I use the term �astral world� I

shal mean by it the astral part of our own globe only, and not (as heretofore) the astral part of the whole

solar system. This astral part of our own world is also a globe, but of astral matter. It occupies the same

place as the globe which we see, but its matter (being so much lighter) extends out into space on al sides

of us further than does the atmosphere of the earth � a great deal further. It stretches to a little less than the mean distance of the moon, so that though the two physical globes, the earth and the moon, are

nearly 240,000 miles apart, the astral globes of these two bodies touch one another when the moon is in

perigee, but not when she is in apogee. I shal apply (Page 27) the term �mental world� to the stil larger

globe of mental matter in the midst of which our physical earth exists. When we come to the stil higher

globes we have spheres large enough to touch the corresponding spheres of other planets in the system,

though their matter also is just as much about us here on the surface of the solid earth as that of the

others. Al these globes of finer matter are a part of us, and are al revolving round the sun with their

visible part. The student wil do wel to accustom himself to think of our earth as the whole of this mass of interpenetrating worlds � not only the comparatively smal physical bal in the center of it. (Page 28)

CHAPTER IV

THE EVOLUTION OF LIFE

Al the impulses of life which I have described as building the interpenetrating worlds came forth from the

Third Aspect of the Deity. Hence in the Christian scheme that Aspect is cal ed �the Giver of Life�, the

Spirit who brooded over the face of the waters of space. In theosophical literature these impulses are

usual y taken as a whole, and cal ed the first outpouring.

When the worlds had been prepared to this extent, and most of the chemical elements already existed,

the second outpouring of life took place, and this came from the Second Aspect of the Deity. It brought

with it the power of combination. In al the worlds it found existing what may be thought of as elements

corresponding to those worlds. It proceeded to combine those elements into organisms which it then

ensouled, and in this way it built up the seven kingdoms of� nature. Theosophy recognizes seven

kingdoms, because it regards man as separate from the animal kingdom, and it takes into account

several stages of evolution which are unseen by the physical eye, and gives to them the mediaeval name

of �elemental kingdoms�.

The divine Life pours itself into matter from above, and its whole course may be thought of in two stages

(Page 29 ) � the gradual assumption of grosser and grosser matter, and then the gradual casting off

again of the vehicles which have been assumed. The earliest level upon which its vehicles can be

scientifical y observed is the mental � the fifth counting from the finer to the grosser, the first on which

there are separated globes. In practical study it is found convenient to divide this mental world into two

parts, which we cal the higher and lower according to the degree of density of their matter. The higher

consists of the three finer subdivisions of mental matter; the lower part of the other four.

When the outpouring reaches the higher mental world it draws together the ethereal elements there, combines them into what at the level correspond to substances, and of these substances builds forms

which it inhabits. We cal this the first elemental kingdom.

After a long period of evolution, through different forms at that level, the wave of life, which is al the time pressing steadily downwards, learns to identify itself so ful y with those forms that, instead of occupying

them and withdrawing from them periodical y, it is able to hold them permanently and make them part of

itself, so that now from that level it can proceed to the temporary occupation of forms at a stil lower level.

When it reaches this stage we cal it the second elemental kingdom, the ensouling life of which resides

upon the higher mental levels, while the vehicles through which it manifests are on the lower.

After another vast period of similar length, it is found that the downward pressure has caused this (Page

30 ) process to repeat itself; once more the life has identified itself with its forms, and has taken up its

residence upon the lower mental levels, so that it is capable of ensouling bodies in the astral world. At this stage we cal it the third elemental kingdom.

We speak of al these forms as finer or grosser relatively to one another, but al of them are almost

infinitely finer than any with which we are acquainted in the physical world. Each of these three is a

kingdom of nature, as varied in the manifestations of its different forms of life as in the animal or

vegetable kingdom which we know. After a long period spent in ensouling the forms of the third of these

elemental kingdoms it identifies itself with them in turn, and so is able to ensoul the etheric part of the

mineral kingdom, and becomes the life which vivifies that � for there is a life in the mineral kingdom just

as much as in the vegetable or the animal, although it is in conditions where it cannot manifest so freely.

In the course of the mineral evolution the downward pressure causes it to identify itself in the same way

with the etheric matter of the physical world, and from that to ensoul the denser matter of such minerals

as are perceptible to our senses.

In the mineral kingdom we include not only what are usual y cal ed minerals, but also liquids, gases and

many etheric substances the existence of which is unknown to western science. Al the matter of which

we know anything is living matter, and the life which it contains is always evolving. When it has reached

the central point of the mineral stage the downward (Page 31) pressure ceases, and is replaced by an

upward tendency; the outbreathing has ceased and the indrawing has begun.

When mineral evolution is completed, the life has withdrawn itself again into the astral world, but bearing

with it al the results obtained through its experiences in the physical. At this stage it ensouls vegetable

forms, and begins to show itself much more clearly as what we commonly cal life � plant life of al kinds;

and at a yet later stage of its development it leaves the vegetable kingdom and ensouls the animal

kingdom. The attainment of this level is the sign that it has withdrawn itself stil further, and is now working from the lower mental world. In order to work in physical matter from that mental world it must operate

through the intervening astral matter; and that astral matter is now no longer part of the garment of the

group soul as a whole, but is the individual astral body of the animal concerned, as wil be later explained.

In each of these kingdoms it not only passes a period of time which is to our ideas almost incredibly long,

but it also goes through a definite course of evolution, beginning from the lower manifestations of that

kingdom and ending with the highest. In the vegetable kingdom, for example, the life-force might

commence its career by occupying grasses or mosses and end it by ensouling magnificent forest trees. In

the animal kingdom it might commence with the mosquitoes or with animalculae, and might end with the

finest specimens of the mammals. (Page 32)

The whole process is one of steady evolution from lower forms to higher, from the simpler to the more

complex. But what is evolving is not primarily the form, but the life within it. The forms also evolve and

grow better as time passes; but this is in order that they may be appropriate vehicles for more and more

advanced waves of life. When the life has reached the highest level possible in the animal kingdom, it

may then pass on into the human kingdom, under conditions which wil presently be explained.

The outpouring leaves one kingdom and passes to another, so that if we had to deal with only one wave

of this outpouring we could have in existence only one kingdom at a time. But the Deity sends out a

constant succession of these waves, so that at any given time we find a number of them simultaneously in operation. We ourselves represent one such wave; but we find evolving alongside us another wave

which ensouls the animal kingdom � a wave which came out from the Deity one stage later than we did.

We find also the vegetable kingdom, which represents a third wave, and the mineral kingdom, which

represents a fourth; and occultists know the existence al round us of three elemental kingdoms, which

represent the fifth, sixth and seventh waves. Al these, however, are successive ripples of the same great

outpouring from the Second Aspect of the Deity.

We have here, then, a scheme of evolution in which the divine Life involves itself more and more deeply

in matter, in order that through that matter it may receive vibrations which could not otherwise affect it

(Page 33) � impacts from without, which by degrees arouse within it rates of undulation corresponding to

their own, so that it learns to respond to them. Later on it learns of itself to generate these rates of

undulation, and so becomes a being possessed of spiritual powers.

We may presume that when this outpouring of life original y came forth from the Deity, at some level

altogether beyond our power of cognition, it may perhaps have been homogeneous; but when it first

comes within practical cognizance, when it is itself in the intuitional world, but is ensouling bodies made of the matter of the higher mental world, it is already not one huge world-soul, but many souls. Let us

suppose a homogeneous outpouring, which may be considered as one vast soul at one end of the scale;

at the other, when humanity is reached, we find that one vast soul broken up into mil ions of the

comparatively little souls of individual men. At any stage between these two extremes we find an

intermediate condition, the immense world-soul already subdivided, but not to the utmost limit of possible

subdivision.

Each man is a soul, but not each animal or each plant. Man, as a soul, can manifest through only one

body at a time in the physical world, whereas one animal soul manifests simultaneously through a number

of animal bodies, one plant-soul through, a number of separate plants. A lion, for example, is not a

permanently separate entity in the same way as a man is. When the man dies � that is, when he as a

soul lays aside his physical body � he remains himself exactly as he was before, an entity separate from

(Page 34) al other entities. When the lion dies, that which has been the separate soul of him is poured

back into the mass from which it came � a mass which is at the same time providing the souls for many

other lions. To such a mass we give the name of �group-soul�.

To such a group-soul is attached a considerable number of lion bodies � let us say a hundred. Each of

those bodies while it lives has its hundredth part of the group-soul attached to it, and for the time being

this is apparently quite separate, so that the lion is as much an individual during his physical life as the

man; but he is not a permanent individual. When he dies the soul of him flows back into the group-soul to

which it belongs, and that identical soul-lion cannot be separated from the group.

A useful analogy may help comprehension. Imagine the group-soul to be represented by the water in a

bucket, and the hundred lion bodies by a hundred tumblers. As each tumbler is dipped into the bucket it

takes out from it a tumblerful of water (the separate soul). That water for the time being takes the shape of the vehicle which it fil s, and is temporarily separate from the water which remains in the bucket, and from

the water in the other tumblers.

Now put into each of the hundred tumblers some kind of coloring matter or some kind of flavoring. That

wil represent the qualities developed by its experiences in the separate soul of the lion during its lifetime.

Pour back the water from the tumbler into the bucket; that represents the death of the lion. The coloring

matter or the flavoring wil be distributed (Page 35) through the whole of the water in the bucket, but wil

be a much fainter coloring, a much less pronounced flavor when thus distributed than it was when

confined in one tumbler. The qualities developed by the experience of one lion attached to that group-soul

are therefore shared by the entire group-soul but in a much lower degree.

We may take out another tumblerful of water from that bucket, but we can never again get exactly the

same tumblerful after it has once been mingled with the rest. Every tumblerful taken from that bucket in

the future wil contain some traces of the coloring or flavoring put into each tumbler whose contents have

been returned to the bucket. Just so the qualities developed by the experience of a single lion wil become the common property of al lions who are in the future to be born from that group-soul, though in a lesser

degree than that in which they existed in the individual lion who developed them.

That is the explanation of inherited instincts; that is why the duckling which has been hatched by a hen

takes to the water instantly without needing to be shown, how to swim; why the chicken just out of its shel

wil cower at the shadow of a hawk; why a bird which has been artificial y hatched, and has never seen a

nest, nevertheless knows how to make one, and makes it according to the traditions of its kind.

Lower down the scale of animal life enormous numbers of bodies are attached to a single group-soul �

countless mil ions, for example, in the case of some of the smal er insects; but as we rise in the animal

kingdom (Page 36) the number of bodies attached to a single group-soul becomes smal er and smal er,

and therefore the differences between individuals become greater.

Thus the group-souls, gradual y break up. Returning to the symbol of the bucket, as tumbler after tumbler

of water is withdrawn from it, tinted with some sort of coloring matter and returned to it, the whole

bucketful of water gradual y becomes richer in color. Suppose that by imperceptible degrees a kind of

vertical film forms itself across the center of the bucket, and gradual y solidifies itself into a division, so that we have now a right half and a left half to the bucket, and each tumblerful of water which is taken out

is returned always to the same half from which it came.

Then presently a difference wil be set up, and the liquid in one half of the bucket wil no longer be the

same as that in the other. We have then practical y two buckets, and when this stage is reached in a

group-soul it splits into two, as a cel separates by fission. In this way, as the experience grows ever

richer, the group-souls grow smal er but more numerous, until at the highest point we arrive at man with

his single individual soul, which no longer returns into a group but remains always separate.

One of the life-waves is vivifying the whole of a kingdom; but not every group-soul in that life-wave wil

pass through the whole of that kingdom from the bottom to the top. If in the vegetable kingdom a certain

group-soul has ensouled forest trees, when it passes on into the animal kingdom it wil omit al (Page 37)

the lower stages � that is, it wil never inhabit insects or reptiles, but wil begin at once at the level of the lower mammals. The insects and reptiles wil be vivified by group-souls which have for some reason left

the vegetable kingdom at a much lower level than the forest tree. In the same way the group-soul which

has reached the highest levels of the animal kingdom, wil not individualize into primitive savages but into

men of somewhat higher type, the primitive savage being recruited from group-souls which have left the

animal kingdom at a lower level.

Group-souls at any level or at al levels arrange themselves into seven great types, according to the

Minister of the Deity through whom� their life has poured forth. These types are clearly distinguishable in

al the kingdoms, and the successive forms taken by any one of them form a connected series, so that

animals, vegetables, minerals and the varieties of the elemental creatures may al be arranged into seven

groups, and the life coming along one of those lines wil not diverge into any of the others.

No detailed list has yet been made of the animals, plants or minerals from this point of view; but it is

certain that the life which is found ensouling a mineral of a particular type wil never vivify a mineral of any other type than its own, though within that type it may vary. When it passes on to the vegetable and

animal kingdoms it wil inhabit vegetables and animals of that type and of no other, and when it eventual y

reaches humanity it wil individualize into men of that type and of no other.(Page 38)

The method of individualization is the raising of the soul of a particular animal to a level so much higher

than that attained by its group-soul that it can no longer return to the latter. This cannot be done with any animal, but only with those whose brain is developed to a certain level, and the method usual y adopted to

acquire such mental development is to bring the animal into close contact with man. Individualization,

therefore, is possible only for domestic animals, and only for certain kinds even of those. At the head of

each of the seven types stands one kind of domestic animal � the dog for one, the cat for another, the

elephant for a third, the monkey for a fourth, and so on. The wild animals can al be arranged on seven

lines leading up to the domestic animals; for example, the fox and the wolf are obviously on the same line

with the dog, while the lion, the tiger and the leopard equal y obviously lead up to the domestic cat; so that the group-soul animating a hundred lions mentioned some time ago might at a later stage of its evolution

have divided into, let us say, five group-souls each animating twenty cats.

The life-wave spends a long period of time in each kingdom; we are now only a little past the middle of

such an aeon, and consequently the conditions are not favourable for the achievement of that

individualization which normal y comes only at the end of a period. Rare instances of such attainment

may occasional y be observed on the part of some animal much in advance of the average. Close

association with man is necessary to produce this result. The animal if (Page 39) kindly treated develops

devoted affection for his human friend, and also unfolds his intel ectual powers in trying to understand that friend and to anticipate his wishes. In addition to this, the emotions and the thoughts of man act

constantly upon those of the animal, and tend to raise him to a higher level both emotional y and

intel ectual y. Under favourable circumstances this development may proceed so far as to raise the animal

altogether out of touch with the group to which he belongs, so that his fragment of a group-soul becomes

capable of responding to the outpouring which comes from the First Aspect of the Deity.

For this final outpouring is not like the others, a mighty outrush affecting thousands or mil ions

simultaneously; it comes to each one individual y as that one is ready to receive it. This outpouring has

already descended as far as the intuitional world; but it comes no farther than that until this upward leap is made by the soul of the animal from below; but when that happens this Third Outpouring leaps down to

meet it, and in the higher mental world is formed an ego, a permanent individuality � permanent, that is,

until, far later in his evolution, the man transcends it and reaches back to the divine unity from which he

came. To make this ego, the fragment of the group-soul (which has hitherto played the part always of

ensouling force) becomes in its turn a vehicle, and is itself ensouled by that divine Spark which has fal en

into it from on high. That Spark may be said to have been hovering in the monadic world over the group-

soul (Page 40) through the whole of its previous evolution, unable to effect a junction with it until its

corresponding fragment in the group-soul had developed sufficiently to permit it. It is this breaking away

from the rest of the group-soul and developing a separate ego which marks the distinction between the

highest animal and the lowest man. (Page 41)

CHAPTER V

THE CONSTITUTION OF MAN

Man is therefore in essence a Spark of the divine Fire, belonging to the monadic world. (The President

has now decided upon a set of names for the planes, so for the future these wil be used instead of those

previously employed. A table of them is given below for reference) To that Spark, dwel ing al the time in

that world, we give the name �Monad�. For the purpose of human evolution Monad manifests itself in

lower worlds. When it descends one stage and enters the spiritual world, it shows itself there as the triple

Spirit, having itself three aspects (just as in worlds infinitely higher the Deity has His three Aspects.) Of those three - one remains always in that world, and we cal that the Spirit in man. The second aspect

manifests itself in the intuitional world, and we speak of it as the Intuition in man. The third shows itself in the higher mental world, and we cal it the Intel igence in man. These three aspects taken together

constitute the ego which ensouls the fragment from the group-soul. Thus man as we know him, though in

(Page 42)

New Names

Old Names

1

Divine World

Âdi Plane

2

Monadic World

Anupâdaka

3

Spiritual World

Âtmic or Nirvânic Plane

4

Intuitional World

Buddhic Plane

5

Mental World

Mental Plane

6

Emotional or Astral World

Astral Plane

7

Physical World

Physical Plane

These wil supersede the names given in Vol. -II- of The Inner Life.

reality a Monad residing in the monadic world, shows himself as an ego in the higher mental world,

manifesting these three aspects of himself (Spirit, Intuition and Intel igence) through that vehicle of higher mental matter which we name the casual body.

This ego is the man during the human stage of evolution; he is the nearest correspondence, in fact, to the

ordinary unscientific conception of the soul. He lives unchanged (except for his growth) from the moment

of individualization until humanity is transcended and merged into divinity. He is in no way affected by

what we cal birth and death; what we commonly consider as his life is only a day in his life. The body

which we can see, the body which is born and dies, is a garment which he puts on for the purposes of a

certain part of his evolution.

Nor is it the only body which he assumes. Before he, the ego in the higher mental world, can take a

vehicle belonging to the physical world, he must make a connection with it through the lower mental and

astral worlds. When he wishes to descend he draws around himself a veil of the matter of the lower

mental world, which we cal his mental body. This is the instrument by means of which he thinks al his

concrete thoughts � abstract thought being a power of the ego himself in the higher mental world.

Next he draws round himself a veil of astral matter, which we cal his astral body; and that is the

instrument of his passions and emotions, and also (in conjunction with the lower part of his mental body)

(Page 43) the instrument of al such thought as is tinged by selfishness and personal feeling. Only after

having assumed these intermediate vehicles can he come into touch with a baby physical body, and be

born into the world which we know. He lives through what we cal his life, gaining certain qualities as the

result of its experiences; and at its end, when the physical body is worn out, he reverses the process of

descent and lays aside one by one the temporary vehicles which he has assumed. The first to go is the

physical body, and when that is dropped, his life is centered in the astral world and he lives in his astral

body.

The length of his stay in that world depends upon the amount of passion and emotion which he has

developed within himself in his physical life. If there is much of these the astral body is strongly vitalized, and wil persist for a long time; if there is but little, the astral body has less vitality, and he wil soon be able to cast that vehicle aside in turn. When that is done he finds himself living in his mental body. The

strength of that depends upon the nature of the thoughts to which he had habituated himself, and usual y

his stay at this level is a long one. At last it comes to an end, he casts aside the mental body in turn, and is once more the ego in his own world.

Owing to lack of development, he is as yet but partial y conscious in that world; the vibrations of its matter are too rapid to make any impression upon him, just as the ultraviolet rays are too rapid to make any

impression upon our eyes. After a rest there, he feels the desire to descend to a level where the

undulations (Page 44) are perceptible to him, in order that he may feel himself to be ful y alive; so he

repeats the process of descent into denser matter, and assumes once more a mental, an astral and a

physical body. As his previous bodies have al disintegrated, each in its turn, these new vehicles are

entirely distinct from them, and thus it happens that in his physical life he has no recol ection whatever of other similar lives which have preceded it.

When functioning in this physical world he remembers by means of his mental body; but since that is a

new one, assumed only for this birth, it natural y cannot contain the memory of previous births in which it

had no part. The man himself, the ego, does remember them al when in his own world, and occasional y

some partial recol ection of them or influence from them filters through into his lower vehicles. He does

not usual y, in his physical life, remember the experiences of earlier lives, but he does manifest in physical life the qualities which those experiences have developed in him. Each man is therefore exactly what he

has made himself during those past lives; if he has in them developed good qualities in himself, he

possesses the good qualities now; if he neglected to train himself, and consequently left himself weak and of evil disposition, he finds himself precisely in that condition now. The qualities, good or evil, with which he is born are those which he has made for himself.

This development of the ego is the object of the whole process of materialization;� he assumes those

veils of matter precisely because through them he is able (Page 45) to receive vibrations to which he can

respond, so that his latent faculties may thereby be unfolded. Though man descends from on high into

these lower worlds, it is only through that descent that a ful cognizance of the higher worlds is developed

in him. Ful consciousness in any given world involves the power to perceive and respond to al the

undulations of that world; therefore the ordinary man has not yet perfect consciousness at any level � not

even in this physical world which he thinks he knows. It is possible for him to unfold his percipience in al

these worlds, and it is by means of such developed consciousness that we observe al these facts which I

am now describing.

The causal body is the permanent vehicle of the ego in the higher mental world. It consists of matter of

the first, second and third subdivisions of that world. In ordinary people it is not yet ful y active, only that matter which belongs to the third subdivision being vivified. As the ego unfolds his latent possibilities

through the long course of his evolution, the higher matter is gradual y brought into action, but it is only in the perfected man whom we cal the Adept that it is developed to its ful est extent. Such matter can be

discerned by clairvoyant sight, but only by a seer who knows how to use the sight of the ego.

It is difficult to describe a causal body ful y, because the senses belonging to its world are altogether

different from and higher than ours at this level. Such memory of the appearance of a causal body as it is

possible for a clairvoyant to bring into his physical brain represents it as ovoid, and as surrounding the

(Page 46) physical body of the man, extending to a distance of about eighteen inches from the normal

surface of that body. In the case of primitive man it resembles a bubble, and gives the impression of being

empty. It is in reality fil ed with higher mental matter, but as this is not yet brought into activity it remains colorless and transparent. As advancement continues it is gradual y stirred into alertness by vibrations

which reach it from the lower bodies. This comes but slowly, because the activities of man in the earlier

stages of his evolution are not of a character to obtain expression in matter so fine as that of the higher

mental body; but when a man reaches the stage where he is capable either of abstract thought or of

unselfish emotion the matter of the causal body is aroused into response.

When these rates of undulation are awakened within him they show themselves in his causal body as

colors, so that instead of being a mere transparent bubble it gradual y becomes a sphere fil ed with matter

of the most lovely and delicate hues � an object beautiful beyond al conception. It is found by

experience that these colors are significant. The vibration which denotes the power of unselfish affection

shows itself as a pale rose-color; that which indicates high intel ectual power is yel ow; that which

expresses sympathy is green, while blue betokens devotional feeling, and a luminous lilac-blue typifies

the higher spirituality. The same scheme of color significance applies to the bodies which are built of

denser matter, but as we approach the physical world the hues are in every case by comparison grosser

� not only less delicate but also less living.(Page 47)

In the course of evolution in the lower worlds man often introduces into his vehicles qualities which are

undesirable and entirely inappropriate for his life as an ego � such, for example, as pride, irritability,

sensuality. These, like the rest, are reducible to vibrations, but they are in al cases vibrations of the lower subdivisions of their respective worlds, and therefore they cannot reproduce themselves in the casual

body, which is built exclusively of the matter of the three higher subdivisions of its world. For each section of the astral body acts strongly upon the corresponding section of the mental body, but only upon the

corresponding section; it cannot influence any other part. So the casual body can be affected only by the

three higher portions of the astral� body; and the oscil ations of those represent only good qualities.

The practical effect of this is that the man can build into the ego (that is, into his true self) nothing but good qualities; the evil qualities which he develops are in their nature transitory and must be thrown aside

as he advances, because he has no longer within him matter which can express them. The difference

between the causal bodies of the savage and the saint is that the first is empty and colorless, while the

second is ful of bril iant coruscating tints. As the man passes beyond even sainthood and becomes a great spiritual power, his causal body increases in size, because it has so much more to express, and it

also begins to pour out from itself in al directions powerful rays of living light. In one who has attained

Adeptship this body is of enormous dimensions.

The mental body is built of matter of the four lower (Page 48) subdivisions of the mental world, and

expresses the concrete thoughts of the man. Here also we find the same color scheme as in the casual

body. The hues are somewhat less delicate, and we notice one or two additions. For example, a thought

of pride shows itself as orange, while irritability is manifested by a bril iant scarlet. We may see here

sometimes the bright brown of avarice, the grey-brown of selfishness, and grey-green of deceit. Here also

we perceive the possibility of a mixture of colors; the affection, the intel ect, the devotion may be tinged by selfishness, and in that case their distinctive colors are mingled with the brown of selfishness, and so we

have an impure and muddy appearance. Although its particles are always in intensely rapid motion

among themselves, this body has at the same time a kind of loose organization.

The size and shape of the mental body are determined by those of the causal vehicle. There are in it

certain striations which divide it more or less irregularly into segments, each of these corresponding to a

certain department of the physical brain, so that every type of thought should function through its duly

assigned portion. The mental body is as yet so imperfectly developed in ordinary men that there are many

in whom a great number of special departments are not yet in activity, and any attempt at thought

belonging to those departments has to travel round through some inappropriate channel which happens

to be ful y open. The result is that thought on those subjects is for those people clumsy and

uncomprehending. (Page 49) This is why some people have a head for mathematics and others are

unable to add correctly � why some people instinctively understand, appreciate and enjoy music, while

others do not know one tune from another.

Al the matter of the mental body should be circulating freely, but sometimes a man al ows his thought

upon� a certain subject to set and solidify, and then the circulation is impeded, and there is congestion

which presently hardens into a kind of wart on the mental body. Such a wart appears to us down here as

a prejudice; and until it is absorbed and free circulation restored, it is impossible for man to think truly or to see clearly with regard to that particular department of his mind, as the congestion checks the free

passage of undulations both outward and inward.

When a man uses any part of his mental body it not only vibrates for the time more rapidly, but it also

temporarily swel s out and increases in size. If there is prolonged thought upon a subject this increase

becomes permanent, and it is thus open to any man to increase the size of his mental body either along

desirable or undesirable lines.

Good thoughts produce vibrations of the finer matter of the body, which by its specific gravity tends to

float in the upper part of the ovoid; whereas bad thoughts, such as selfishness and avarice, are always

oscil ations of the grosser matter, which tends to gravitate towards the lower part of the ovoid.

Consequently the ordinary man, who yields himself not infrequently to selfish thoughts to various kinds,

usual y (Page 50) expands the lower part of his mental body, and presents roughly the appearance of an

egg with its larger end downwards. The man who has repressed those lower thoughts, and devoted

himself to higher ones, tends to expand the upper part of his mental body and therefore presents the

appearance of an egg standing on its smal er end. From a study of the colors and striations of a man�s

mental body the clairvoyant can perceive his character and the progress he has made in his present life.

From similar features of the causal body he can see what progress the ego has made since its original

formation, when the man left the animal kingdom.

When a man thinks of any concrete object � a book, a house, a landscape � he builds a tiny image of

the object in the matter of his mental body. This image floats in the upper part of that body, usual y in front of the face of the man and at about the level of the eyes. It remains there as long as the man is

contemplating the object, and usual y for a little time afterwards, the length of time depending upon the

intensity and the clearness of the thought. This form is quite objective, and can be seen by another

person, if that other has developed the sight of his own mental body. If a man thinks of another, he

creates a tiny portrait in just the same way. If his thought is merely contemplative and involves no feeling (such as affection or dislike) or desires (such as a wish to see the person) the thought does not usual y

perceptibly affect the man of whom he thinks.

If coupled with the thought of the person there is a (Page 51) feeling, as for example of affection, another

phenomenon occurs besides the forming of the image. The thought of affection takes a definite form,

which it builds out of the matter of the thinker�s mental body. Because of the emotion involved, it draws

round it also matter of his astral body, and thus we have an astro-mental form which leaps out of the body

in which it has been generated, and moves through space towards the object of the feeling of affection. If

the thought is sufficiently strong, distance makes absolutely no difference to it; but the thought of an

ordinary person is usual y weak and diffused, and is therefore not effective outside a limited area.

When this thought-form reaches its object it discharges itself into his astral and mental bodies,

communicating to them its own rate of vibration. Putting this in another way, a thought of love sent from

one person to another involves the actual transference of a certain amount both of force and of matter

from the sender to the recipient, and its effect upon the recipient is to arouse the feeling of affection in

him, and slightly but permanently to increase his power of loving. But such a thought also strengthens the

power of affection in the thinker, and therefore it does good simultaneously to both.

Every thought builds a form; if the thought be directed to another person it travels to him; if it be distinctly selfish it remains in the immediate neighbourhood of the thinker; if it belongs to neither of these

categories it floats for awhile in space and then slowly disintegrates. Every man therefore is leaving

behind (Page 52) him wherever he goes a trail of thought-forms; as we go along the street we are walking

al the same amidst a sea of other men�s thoughts. If a man leaves his mind blank for a time, these

residual thoughts of others drifts through it, making in most cases but little impression upon him.

Sometimes one arrives which attracts his attention, so that his mind seizes upon it and makes it its own,

strengthens it by the addition of its force, and then casts it out again to affect somebody else. A man,

therefore, is not responsible for a thought which floats into his mind, because it may be not his, but

someone else�s, but he is responsible if he takes it up, dwel s upon it and then sends it out

strengthened.

Self-centered thought of any kind hangs about the thinker, and most men surround their mental bodies

with a shel of such thoughts. Such a shel obscures the mental vision and facilitates the formation of

prejudice.

Each thought-form is a temporary entity. It resembles a charged battery, awaiting an opportunity to

discharge itself. Its tendency is always to reproduce its own rate of vibration in the mental body upon

which it fastens itself, and so to arouse in it a like thought. If the person at whom it is aimed happens to be busy, or already engaged in some definite train of thought, the particles of his mental body are already

swinging at a certain determinate rate, and cannot for the moment be affected from without. In that case

the thought-form bides its time, hanging about its object until he is sufficiently at rest to permit its

entrance; (Page 53) then it discharges itself upon him, and in the act ceases to exist.

The self-centered thought behaves in exactly the same way with regard to its generator, and discharges

itself upon him when opportunity offers. If it be an evil thought he general y regards it as the suggestion of a tempting demon, whereas in truth he tempts himself. Usual y each definite thought creates a new

thought-form; but if a thought-form of the same nature is already hovering round the thinker, under certain

circumstances a new thought on the same subject, instead of creating a new form, coalesces with and

strengthens the old one, so that by long brooding over the same subject a man may sometimes create a

thought-form of tremendous power. If the thought be a wicked one, such a thought-form may become a

veritable evil influence, lasting perhaps for many years, and having for a time al the appearance and

powers of a real living entity.

Al these which have been described are the ordinary unpremeditated thoughts of man. A man can make

a thought-form intentional y, and aim it at another with the object of helping him. This is one of the lines of activity adopted by those who desire to serve humanity. A steady stream of powerful thought directed

intel igently upon another person may be of the greatest assistance to him. A strong thought-form may be a real guardian angel, and protect its object from impurity, from irritability or from fear.

An interesting branch of the subject is the study of the various shapes and colors taken by thought-forms

(Page 54) of different kinds. The colors indicate the nature of the thought, and are in agreement with those

which we have already described as existing in the bodies. The shapes are of infinite variety, but are

often in some way typical of the kind of thought which they express.

Every thought of definite character, such as a thought of affection or hatred, of devotion or suspicion, of

anger or fear, of pride or jealousy, not only creates a form but also radiates an undulation. The fact that

each one of these thoughts is expressed by a certain color indicates that the thought expresses itself as

an oscil ation of the matter of a certain part of the mental body. This rate of oscil ation communicates itself to the surrounding mental matter precisely in the same way as the vibration of a bel communicates itself

to the surrounding air.

This radiation travels out in al directions, and whenever it impinges upon another mental body in a

passive or receptive condition it communicates to it something of its own vibration. This does not convey

a definite complete idea, as does the thought-form, but it tends to produce a thought of the same

character as itself. For example, if the thought be devotional its undulations wil excite devotion, but the

object of worship may be different in the case of each person upon whose mental body they impinge. The

thought-form, on the other hand, can reach only one person, but wil convey to that person (if receptive)

not only a general devotional feeling, but also a precise image of the Being for whom the adoration was

original y felt.(Page 55)

Any person who habitual y thinks pure, good and strong thoughts is utilizing for that purpose the higher

part of his mental body � a part which is not used at al by the ordinary man, and is entirely undeveloped

in him. Such an one is therefore a power for good in the world, and is being of great use to al those of his neighbours who are capable of any sort of response. For the vibration which he sends out tends to arouse

a new and higher part of their mental bodies, and consequently to open before them altogether new fields

of thought.

It may not be exactly the same thought as that sent out, but it is of the same nature. The undulations

generated by a man thinking of Theosophy do not necessarily communicate theosophical ideas to al

those around him; but they do awaken in them more liberal and higher thought than that to which they

have before been accustomed. On the other hand, the thought-forms generated under such

circumstances, though more limited in their action than the radiation, are also more precise; they can

affect only those who are to some extent open to them, but to them they wil convey definite Theosophical

ideas.

The colors of the astral body bear the same meaning as those of the higher vehicles, but are several

octaves of color below them, and much more nearly approaching to such hues as we see in the physical

world. It is the vehicle of passion and emotion and consequently it may exhibit additional colors,

expressing man�s less desirable feelings, which cannot show themselves at higher levels; for example, a

lurid brownish red indicates the presence of sensuality, while black (Page 56) clouds show malice and

hatred. A curious livid grey betokens the presence of fear, and a much darker grey, usual y arranged in

heavy rings around the ovoid, indicates a condition of depression. Irritability is shown by the presence of a number of smal scarlet flecks in the astral body, each representing a smal angry impulse. Jealousy is

shown by a peculiar brownish-green, general y studded with the same scarlet flecks. The astral body is in

size and shape like those just described, and in the ordinary man its outline is usual y clearly marked; but

in the case of primitive man it is often exceedingly irregular, and resembles a rol ing cloud composed of al

the more unpleasant colors.

When the astral body is comparatively quiet (it is never actual y at rest) the colors which are to be seen in it indicate those emotions to which the man is most in the habit of yielding himself. When the man

experiences a rush of any particular feeling, the rate of vibration which expresses that feeling dominates

for a time the entire astral body. If, for example, it be devotion, the whole of his astral body is flushed with blue, and while the emotion remains at its strongest the normal colors do little more than modify the blue,

or appear faintly through a veil of it; but presently the vehemence of the sentiment dies away, and the normal colors reassert themselves. But because of that spasm of emotion the part of the astral body

which is normal y blue has been increased in size. Thus a man who frequently feels high devotion soon

comes to have a large area of blue permanently existing in his astral body.(Page 57)

When the rush of devotional feeling comes over him it is usual y accompanied by thoughts of devotion.

Although primarily formed in the mental body, these draw round themselves a large amount of astral

matter as wel , so that their action is in both worlds. In both worlds also is the radiation which was

previously described, so that devotional man is a center of devotion, and wil influence other people to

share both his thoughts and his feelings. The same is true in the case of affection, anger, depression �

and, indeed, of al other feelings.

The flood of emotion does not itself greatly affect the mental body, although for a time it may render it

almost impossible for any activity from that mental body to come through into the physical brain. That is

not because that body itself is affected, but because the astral body, which acts as a bridge between it

and the physical brain, is vibrating so entirely at one rate as to be incapable of conveying any undulation

which is not in harmony with that.

The permanent colors of the astral body reacts upon the mental. They produce in it their

correspondences, several octaves higher, in the same manner as a musical note produces overtones.

The mental body in its turn reacts upon the causal in the same way, and thus al the good qualities

expressed in the lower vehicles by degrees establish themselves permanently in the ego. The evil

qualities cannot do so, as the rates of vibration which express them are impossible for the higher mental

matter of which the causal body is constructed.(Page 58)

So far, we have described vehicles which are the expression of the ego in their respective worlds �

vehicles which he provides for himself; in the physical world we come to a vehicle which is provided for

him by nature under laws which wil be explained later � which , though also in some sense an

expression of him, is by no means a perfect manifestation. In ordinary life we see only a smal part of this

physical body � only that which is built of the solid and liquid subdivisions of physical matter. The body

contains matter of al the seven subdivisions, and al of them play their part in its life and are of equal

importance to it.

We usual y speak of the invisible part of the physical body as the etheric double; �double� because it

exactly reproduces the size and shape of the part of the body that we can see, and �etheric� because it

is built of that finer kind of matter by the vibrations of which light is conveyed to the retina of the eye. (This must not be confused with the true aether of space � that of which matter is the negation.) This invisible

part of the physical body is of great importance to us, since it is the vehicle through which flow the

streams of vitality which keeps the body alive, and without it, as a bridge to convey undulations of thought

and feeling from the astral to the visible denser physical matter, the ego could make no use of the cel s of

his brain.

The life of a physical body is one of perpetual change and in order that it shal live, it needs constantly to be supplied from three distinct sources. It must have food for its digestion, air for its breathing, (Page 59) and vitality for its absorption. This vitality is essential y a force, but when clothed in matter it appears to us a definite element, which exists in al the worlds of which we have spoken. At the moment we are

concerned with that manifestation of it which we find in the highest subdivision of the physical world. Just

as the blood circulates through the veins, so does the vitality circulate along the nerves; and precisely as

any abnormality in the flow of the blood at once affects the physical body so does the slightest irregularity in the absorption or flow of the vitality affect this higher part of the physical body.

Vitality is a force which comes original y from the sun. When an ultimate physical atom is charged with it,

it draws round itself six other atoms and makes itself into an etheric element. The original force of vitality is then subdivided into seven, each of the atoms carrying a separate charge. The element thus made is

absorbed into the human body through the etheric part of the spleen. It is there split up into its component

parts, which at once flow to the various parts of the body assigned to them. The spleen is one of the

seven force-centers in the etheric part of the physical body. In each of our vehicles seven such centers should be in activity, and when they are thus active they are visible to clairvoyant sight. They appear

usual y as shal ow vortices, for they are the points at which the force from the higher bodies enters the

lower. In the physical body these centers are: (1) at the base of the spine, (2) at the solar plexus, (3) at

the spleen, (4) over the heart, (5) at the throat, (Page 60 ) (6) between the eyebrows, and (7) at the top of the head. There are other dormant centers, but their awakening is undesirable.

The shape of al the higher bodies as seen by the clairvoyant is ovoid, but the matter composing them is

not equal y distributed throughout the egg. In the midst of this ovoid is the physical body. The physical

body strongly attracts astral matter, and in its turn the astral matter strongly attracts mental matter.

Therefore by far the greater part of the matter of the astral body is gathered within the physical frame; and the same is true of the mental vehicle. If we see the astral body of a man in its own world, apart from the

physical body, we shal stil perceive the astral matter aggregated in exactly the shape of the physical,

although, as the matter is more fluidic in its nature, what we see is a body built of dense mist, in the midst of an ovoid of much finer mist. The same is true for the mental body. Therefore, if in the astral or the

mental world we should meet an acquaintance, we should recognize him by his appearance just as

instantly as in the physical world.

This, then, is the true constitution of man. In the first place he is a Monad, a Spark of the Divine. Of that Monad the ego is a partial expression, formed in order that he may enter evolution, and may return to the

Monad with joy, bringing his sheaves with him in the shape of qualities developed by garnered

experience. The ego in his turn puts down part of himself for the same purpose into lower worlds, and we

cal that part a personality, because the Latin word persona (Page 61) means a mask, and this personality

is the mask which the ego puts upon himself when he manifests in worlds lower than his own. Just as the

ego is a smal part and an imperfect expression of the Monad, so is the personality a smal part and an

imperfect expression of the ego; so that what we usual y think of as the man is only in truth a fragment of

a fragment.

The personality wears three bodies or vehicles, the mental, the astral and the physical. While the man is

what we cal alive and awake on the physical earth he is limited by his physical body, for he uses the

astral and mental bodies only as bridges to connect himself with his lowest vehicle. One of the limitations

of the physical body is that it quickly becomes fatigued and needs periodical rest. Each night the man

leaves it to sleep, and withdraws into his astral vehicle, which does not become fatigued, and therefore

needs no sleep. During this sleep of the physical body the man is free to move about the astral world; but

the extent to which he does this depends upon his development. The primitive savage usual y does not

move more than a few miles away from his sleeping physical form � often not as much as that; and he

has only the vaguest consciousness.

The educated man is general y able to travel in his astral vehicle wherever he wil , and has much more

consciousness in the astral world, though he has not often the faculty of bringing into his waking life any

memory of what he has seen and done while his physical body was asleep. Sometimes he does

remember some incident which he has seen, some experience (Page 62) which he has had, and then he

cal s it a vivid dream. More often his recol ections are hopelessly entangled with vague memories of

waking life, and with impressions made from without upon the etheric part of his brain. Thus we arrive at

the confused and often absurd dreams of ordinary life. The developed man becomes as ful y conscious

and active in the astral world as in the physical, and brings through into the latter ful remembrance of

what he has been doing in the former � that is, he has a continuous life without any loss of

consciousness throughout the whole twenty-four hours, and thus throughout the whole of his physical life,

and even through death itself.(Page 63)

CHAPTER VI

AFTER DEATH

Death is the laying aside of the physical body; but it makes no more difference to the ego than does the

laying aside of an overcoat to the physical man. Having put off his physical body, the ego continues to live

in his astral body until the force has become exhausted which has been generated by such emotions and passions as he has al owed himself to feel during earth life. When that has happened, the second death

takes place; the astral body also fal s away from him, and he finds himself living in the mental body and in

the lower mental world. In that condition he remains until the thought forces generated during his physical

and astral lives have worn themselves out; then he drops the third vehicle in its turn and remains once

more an ego in his own world, inhabiting his causal body.

There is, then, no such thing as death as it is ordinarily understood. There is only a succession of stages

in a continuous life � stages lived in the three worlds one after another. The apportionment of time

between these three worlds varies much as man advances. The primitive man lives almost exclusively in

the physical world, spending only a few years in the astral at the end of each of his physical lives. As he

develops, the astral life becomes longer, and as intel ect (Page 64) unfolds in him, and he becomes able

to think, he begins to spend a little time in the mental world as wel . The ordinary man of civilized races

remains longer in the mental world than in the physical and astral; indeed, the more a man evolves the

longer becomes his mental life and the shorter his life in the astral world.

The astral life is the result of al feelings which have in them the element of self. If they have been directly selfish, they bring him into conditions of great unpleasantness in the astral world; if, though tinged with

thoughts of self, they have been good and kindly they bring him a comparatively pleasant though stil

limited astral life. Such of his thoughts and feelings as have been entirely unselfish produce their result in his life in the mental world; therefore that life in the mental world cannot be other than blissful. The astral life, which the man has made for himself either miserable or comparatively joyous, corresponds to what

Christians cal purgatory; the lower mental life, which is always entirely happy, is what is cal ed heaven.

Man makes for himself his own purgatory and heaven, and these are not planes, but states of

consciousness. Hel does not exist; it is only a figment of the theological imagination; but a man who lives

foolishly may make for himself a very unpleasant and long-enduring purgatory. Neither purgatory nor

heaven can ever be eternal, for a finite cause cannot produce an infinite result. The variations in individual cases are so wide that to give actual figures is somewhat misleading. If we take the average man of

(Page 65) what is cal ed the lower middle class, the typical specimen of which would be a smal

shopkeeper or shop-assistant, his average life in the astral world would be perhaps about forty years, and

the life in the mental world about two hundred. The man of spirituality and culture, on the other hand, may

have perhaps twenty years of life in the astral world and a thousand in the heaven life. One who is

special y developed may reduce the astral life to a few days or hours and spend fifteen hundred years in

heaven.

Not only does the length of these periods vary greatly, but the conditions in both worlds also differ widely.

The matter of which al these bodies are built is not dead matter but living, and that fact has to be taken

into consideration. The physical body is built up of cel s, each of which is a tiny separate life animated by the Second Outpouring, which comes forth from the Second Aspect of the Deity. These cel s are of

varying kinds and fulfil various functions, and al these facts must be taken into account if the man wishes to understand the work of his physical body and to live a healthy life in it.

The same thing applies to the astral and mental bodies. In the cel life which permeates them there is as

yet nothing in the way of intel igence, but there is a strong instinct always pressing in the direction of what is for its development. The life animating the matter of which such bodies are built is upon the outward arc

of evolution, moving downwards or outwards into matter, so that progress for it means to descend into

denser forms of matter, and to learn to express itself (Page 66) through them. Unfoldment for the man is

just the opposite of this; he has already sunk deeply into matter and is now rising out of that towards his

source. There is consequently a constant conflict of interests between the man within and the life

inhabiting the matter of his vehicles, inasmuch as its tendency is downward, while his is upward.

The matter of the astral body (or rather the life animating its molecules) desires for its evolution such

undulations as it can get, of as many different kinds as possible, and as coarse as possible. The next step

in its evolution wil be to ensoul physical matter and become used to its stil slower oscil ations; and as a step on the way to that, it desires the grossest of the astral vibrations. It has not the intel igence definitely to plan for these; but its instinct helps it to discover how most easily to procure them.

The molecules of the astral body are constantly changing, as are those of the physical body, but nevertheless the life in the mass of those astral molecules has a sense, though a very vague sense, of

itself as a whole � as a kind of temporary entity. It does not know that it is part of a man�s astral body; it is quite capable of understanding what a man is; but it realizes in a blind way that under its present

conditions it receives many more waves, and much stronger ones, than it would receive if floating at large

in the atmosphere. It would then only occasional y catch, as from a distance, the radiation of man�s

passions and emotions; now it is in the very heart of them, it can miss none, and it gets them at their

strongest. Therefore it (Page 67) feels itself in a good position, and it makes an effort to retain that

position. It finds itself in contact with something finer than itself � the matter of the man�s mental body;

and it comes to feel that if it can contrive to involve that finer something in its own undulations, they wil be greatly intensified and prolonged.

Since astral matter is the vehicle of desire and mental matter is the vehicle of thought, this instinct, when translated into our language, means that if the astral body can induce us to think that we want what it

wants, it is much more likely to get it. Thus it exercises a slow steady pressure upon the man � a kind of

hunger on its side, but for him a temptation to what is coarse and undesirable. If he be a passionate man

there is a gentle but ceaseless pressure in the direction of irritability; if he be a sensual man, an equal y steady pressure in the direction of impurity.

A man who does not understand this usual y makes one of two mistakes with regard to it: either he

supposes it to be the prompting of his own nature, and therefore regards that nature as inherently evil; or

he thinks of the pressure as coming from outside � as temptation of an imaginary devil. The truth lies

between the two. The pressure is natural, not to the man but to the vehicle which he is using; its desire is

natural and right for it, but harmful to the man, and therefore it is necessary that he should resist it. If he does so resist, if he declines to yield himself to the feelings suggested to him, the particles within him

which need those vibrations become apathetic for lack of nourishment, and eventual y atrophy and fal out

(Page 68) from his astral body, and are replaced by other particles, whose natural wave rate is more

nearly in accordance with that which the man habitual y permits within his astral body.

This gives the reason for what are cal ed promptings of the lower nature during life. If the man yields

himself to them, such promptings grow stronger and stronger until at least he feels as though he could not

resist them, and identifies himself with them � which is exactly what this curious half-life in the particles of the astral body wants him to do.

At the death of the physical body this vague astral consciousness is alarmed. It realizes that its existence

as a separated mass is menaced, and it takes instinctive steps to defend itself and to maintain its position

as long as possible. The matter of the astral body is far more fluidic than that of the physical, and this

consciousness seizes upon its particles and disposes them so as to resist encroachment. It puts the

grossest and densest upon the outside as a kind of shel , and arranges the others in concentric layers, so

that the body as a whole may become as resistant to friction as its constitution permits, and may therefore

retain its shape as long as possible.

For the man this produces various unpleasant effects. The physiology of the astral body is quite different

from that of the physical; the latter acquires its information from without by means of certain organs which

are specialized as the instruments of its senses, but the astral body has no separated senses in our

meaning of the word. That which for the astral body (Page 69) corresponds to sight is the power of its

molecules to respond to impacts from without, which come to them by means of similar molecules. For

example, a man has within his astral body matter belonging to al the subdivisions of the astral world, and

it is because of that that he is capable of �seeing� objects built of the matter of any of these

subdivisions.

Supposing an astral object to be made of the matter of the second and third subdivisions mixed, a man

living in the astral world could perceive that object only if on the surface of his astral body there were

particles belonging to the second and third subdivisions of that world which were capable of receiving and

recording the vibrations which that object set up. A man who from the arrangement of his body by the

vague consciousness of which we have spoken, had on the outside of that vehicle only the denser matter

of the lowest subdivision, could no more be conscious of the object which we have mentioned than we are ourselves conscious in the physical body of the gases which move about us in the atmosphere or of

objects built exclusively of etheric matter.

During physical life the matter of the man�s astral body is in constant motion, and its particles pass

among one another much as do those of boiling water. Consequently at any given moment it is practical y

certain that particles of al varieties wil be represented on the surface of his astral body, and that

therefore when he is using his astral body during sleep he wil be able to �see� by its means any astral

object which approaches him.(Page 70)

After death, if he has al owed the rearrangement to be made (as from ignorance, al ordinary persons do)

his condition in this respect wil be different. Having on the surface of his astral body only the lowest and grossest particles, he can receive impressions only from corresponding particles outside; so that instead

of seeing the whole of the astral world about him, he wil see only one-seventh of it, and that the densest

and most impure. The vibrations of this heavier matter are the expressions only of objectionable feelings

and emotions, and of the least refined class of astral entities. Therefore it emerges that a man in this

condition can see only the undesirable inhabitants of the astral world, and can feel only its most

unpleasant and vulgar influences.

He is surrounded by other men, whose astral bodies are probably of quite ordinary character; but since he

can see and feel only what is lowest and coarsest in them, they appear to him to be monsters of vice with

no redeeming features. Even his friends seem not at al what they used to be, because he is now

incapable of appreciating any of their better qualities. Under these circumstances it is little wonder that he considers the astral world a hel ; yet the fault is in no way with the astral world, but with himself � first, for al owing himself so much of that ruder type of matter, and secondly, for letting that vague astral

consciousness dominate him and dispose it in that particular way.

The man who has studied these matters declines absolutely to yield to the pressure during life or to

permit the rearrangement after death, and consequently he retains his power of seeing the astral world as

a (Page 71) whole, and not merely the cruder and baser part of it.

The astral world has many points in common with the physical; just like the physical, it presents different

appearances to different people, and even to the same person at different periods of his career. It is the

home of emotion and of lower thoughts; and emotions are much stronger in that world than in this. When

a person is awake we cannot see that larger part of his emotion at al ; its strength goes in setting in

motion the gross physical matter of the brain. So if we see a man show affection here, what we can see is

not the whole of his affection, but only such part of it as is left after al this other work has been done.

Emotions therefore bulk far more largely in the astral life than in the physical. They in no way exclude

higher thought if they are control ed, so in the astral world as in the physical a man may devote himself to

study and to helping his fel ows, or he may waste his time and drift about aimlessly.

The astral world extends nearly to the mean distance of the orbit of the moon; but though the whole of this

realm is open to any of its inhabitants who have not permitted the redistribution of their matter, the great

majority remain much nearer to the surface of the earth. The matter of the different subdivisions of that

world interpenetrates with perfect freedom, but there is on the whole a general tendency for the denser

matter to settle towards the center. The conditions are much like� those which obtain in a bucket of water

which contains in suspension a number of kinds of matter of different degrees of density. Since the water

is kept in perpetual motion, the different kinds of matter (Page 72) are diffused through it; but in spite of that, the densest matter is found in greatest quantity nearest to the bottom. So that though we must not at

al think of the various subdivisions of the astral world as lying above one another as do the coats of an

onion, it is nevertheless true that the average arrangement of the matter of those subdivisions partakes

somewhat of that general character.

Astral matter interpenetrates physical matter precisely as though it were not there, but each subdivision of

physical matter has a strong attraction for astral matter of the corresponding subdivision. Hence it arises

that every physical body has its astral counterpart. If I have a glass of water standing upon a table, the

glass and the table, being of physical matter in the solid state, are interpenetrated by astral matter of the lowest subdivision. The water in the glass, being liquid, is interpenetrated by astral matter of the sixth

subdivision; whereas the air surrounding both, being� physical matter in the gaseous condition, is

entirely interpenetrated by astral gaseous matter � that is, astral matter of the fifth subdivision.

But just as air, water, glass and table are alike interpenetrated al the time by the finer physical matter

which we have cal ed etheric, so are al the astral counterparts interpenetrated by the finer astral matter of the higher subdivisions which correspond to the etheric. But even the astral solid is less dense than the

finest of the physical ethers.

The man who finds himself in the astral world after (Page 73) death, if he has not submitted to the

rearrangement of the matter of his body, wil notice but little difference from physical life. He can float

about in any direction at wil , but in actual fact he usual y stays in the neighbourhood to which he is

accustomed. He is stil able to perceive his house, his room, his furniture, his relations, his friends. The

living, when ignorant of the higher worlds, suppose themselves to have �lost� those who have laid aside

their physical bodies; but the dead are never for a moment under the impression that they have lost the

living.

Functioning as they are in the astral body, the dead can no longer see the physical bodies of those whom

they have left behind; but they do see their astral bodies, and as those are exactly the same in outline as

the physical, they are perfectly aware of the presence of their friends. They see each one surrounded by

a faint ovoid of luminous mist, and if they happen to be observant, they may notice various other smal

changes in the surroundings; but it is at least quite clear to them that they have not gone away to some

distant heaven or hel , but stil remain in touch with the world which they know, although they see it at a

somewhat different angle.

The dead man has the astral body of his living friends obviously before him, so he cannot think of him as

lost; but while the friend is awake, the dead man wil not be able to make any impression upon him, for

the consciousness of the friend is then in the physical world, and his astral body is being used only as a

bridge. The dead man cannot therefore communicate (Page 74) with his friend, nor can he read his

friend�s higher thoughts; but he wil see by the change in color in the astral body any emotion which that

friend may feel, and with a little practice and observation he may easily learn to read al those thoughts of his friend which have in them anything of self or of desire.

When the friend fal s asleep the whole position is changed. He is then also conscious in the astral world

side by side with the dead man, and they can communicate in every respect as freely as they could

during physical life. The emotions felt by the living react strongly upon the dead who love them. If the

former give way to grief, the latter cannot but suffer severely.

The conditions of life after death are almost infinite in their variety, but they can be calculated without

difficulty by any one who wil take the trouble to understand the astral world and to consider the character

of the person concerned. That character is not in the slightest degree changed by death; the man�s

thoughts, emotions and desires are exactly the same as before. He is in every way the same man, minus

his physical body, and his happiness or misery depends upon the extent to which this loss of the physical

body affects him.

If his longings have been such as need a physical body for their gratification, he is likely to suffer

considerably. Such a craving manifests itself as a vibration in the astral body, and while we are stil in this world most of its strength is employed in setting in motion the heavy physical particles. Desire is therefore (Page 75) a far greater force in the astral life than in the physical, and if the man has not been in the habit of control ing it, and if in this new life it cannot be satisfied, it may cause him great and long-continued

trouble.

Take as an il ustration the extreme case of a drunkard or a sensualist. Here we have a lust which has

been strong enough during physical life to overpower reason, common-sense and al the feelings of

decency and of family affection. After death the man finds himself in the astral world feeling the appetite

perhaps a hundred times more strongly, yet absolutely unable to satisfy it because he has lost the physical body. Such a life is a very real hel � the only hel there is; yet no one is punishing him; he is

reaping the perfectly natural result of his own action. Gradual y as time passes this force of desire wears

out, but only at the cost of terrible suffering for the man, because to him every day seems as a thousand

years. He has no measure of time such as we have in the physical world. He can measure it only by his

sensations. From a distortion of this fact has come the blasphemous idea of eternal damnation.

Many other cases less extreme than this wil readily suggest themselves, in which a hankering which

cannot be fulfil ed may prove itself a torture. A more ordinary case is that of a man who has no particular

vices, such as drink or sensuality, but yet has been attached entirely to things of the physical world, and

has lived a life devoted to business or to aimless social functions. For him the astral world is a place of

(Page 76) weariness; the only things for which he craves are no longer possible for him, for in the astral

world there is no business to be done, and, though he may have as much companionship as he wishes,

society is now for him a very different matter, because al the pretences upon which it is usual y based in

this world are no longer possible.

These cases, however, are only the few, and for most people the state after death is much happier than

life upon earth. The first feeling of which the dead man is usual y conscious is one of the most wonderful

and delightful freedom. He has absolutely nothing to worry about, and no duties rest upon him, except

those which he chooses to impose upon himself. For al but a very smal minority, physical life is spent in

doing what the man would much rather not do; but he has to do it in order to support himself or his wife

and family. In the astral world no support is necessary; food is no longer needed, shelter is not required,

since he is entirely unaffected by heat or cold; and each man by the mere exercise of his thought clothes

himself as he wishes. For the first time since early childhood the man is entirely free to spend the whole of his time in doing exactly just what he likes.

His capacity for every kind of enjoyment is greatly enhanced, if only that enjoyment does not need a

physical body for expression. If he loves the beauties of Nature, it is now within his power to travel with

great rapidity and without fatigue over the whole world, to contemplate al its loveliest spots, and to

explore its most secret recesses. If he delights in art, (Page 77) al the world�s masterpieces are at his

disposal. If he loves music, he can go where he wil to hear it, and it wil now mean much more to him

than it has ever meant before; for though he can no longer hear the physical sounds, he can receive the

whole effect of the music into himself in far ful er measure than in this lower world. If he is a student of

science, he not only can visit the great scientific men of the world, and catch from them such thoughts

and ideas as may be within his comprehension, but also he can undertake the researches of his own into

the science of this higher world, seeing much more of what he is doing than has ever before been

possible to him. Best of al , he whose great delight in this world has been to help his fel ow men wil stil

find ample scope for his philanthropic efforts.

Men are no longer hungry, cold, or suffering from disease in this astral world; but there are vast numbers

who, being ignorant, desire knowledge � who, being stil in the grip of desire for earthly things, need the

explanation which wil turn their thought to higher levels � who have entangled themselves in a web of

their own imaginings, and can be set free only by one who understands these new surroundings and can

help them distinguish the facts of the world from their own ignorant misrepresentation of them. Al these

can be helped by the man of intel igence and of kindly heart. Many men arrive in the astral world in utter

ignorance of its conditions, not realizing at first that they are dead, and when they do realize it fearing the fate that may be in store for them, because of false (Page 78) and wicked theological teaching. Al of

these need the cheer and comfort which can only be given to them by a man of common sense who

possesses some knowledge of the facts of nature.

There is thus no lack of the most profitable occupation for any man whose interests during his physical life

have been rational; nor is there any lack of companionship. Men whose tastes and pursuits are similar

drift natural y together there just as they do here; and many realms of Nature, which during our physical

life are concealed by the dense veil of matter, now lie open for the detailed study of those who care to

examine them.

To a large extent people make their own surroundings. We have already referred to the seven

subdivisions of this astral world. Numbering these from the highest and least material downwards, we find

that they fal natural y into three classes � division one, two and three forming one such class, and four,

five and six another; while the seventh and lowest of al stands alone. As I have said, although they al

interpenetrate, their substance has a general tendency to arrange itself according to its specific gravity, so that most of the matter belonging to the higher subdivisions is found at a greater elevation above the

surface of the earth than the bulk of the matter of the lower portions.

Hence, although any person inhabiting the astral world can move into any part of it, his natural tendency

is to float at the level which corresponds with the specific gravity of the heaviest matter in his astral (Page 79) body. The man who has not permitted the rearrangement of the matter of his astral body after death is

entirely free of the whole astral world; but the majority, who do permit it, are not equal y free � not

because there is anything to prevent them from rising to the highest level or sinking to the lowest, but

because they are able to sense clearly only a certain part of that world.

I have described something of the fate of a man who is on the lowest level, shut in by a strong shel of

coarse matter. Because of the extreme comparative density of that matter he is conscious of less outside

of his own subdivision than a man at any other level. The general specific gravity of his own astral body

tends to make him float below the surface of the earth. The physical matter of the earth is absolutely non-

existent to his astral senses, and his natural attraction is to that least delicate form of astral matter which is the counterpart of that solid earth. A man who has confined himself to that lowest subdivision wil

therefore usual y find himself floating in darkness and cut off to a great extent from others of the dead,

whose lives have been such as to keep them on a higher level.

Divisions four, and six of the astral world (to which most people are attracted) have for their background

the astral counterpart of the physical world in which we live, and al its familiar accessories. Life in the

sixth subdivision is simply like our ordinary life on this earth minus the physical body and its necessities

while as it ascends through the fifth and (Page 80) fourth divisions it becomes less and less material and

is more and more withdrawn from our lower world and its interests.

The first, second and third sections, though occupying the same space, yet give the impression of being

much further removed from the physical, and correspondingly less material. Men who inhabit these levels

lose sight of the earth and its belongings; they are usual y deeply self-absorbed, and to a large extent

create their own surroundings, though these are sufficiently objective to be perceptible to other men of

their level, and also to clairvoyant vision.

This region is the summerland of which we hear in spiritualistic circles � the world in which, by the

exercise of their thought, the dead cal into temporary existence their houses and schools and cities.

These surroundings, though fanciful from our point of view, are to the dead as real as houses, temples or

churches built of stone are to us, and many people live very contentedly there for a number of years in the

midst of al these thought creations.

Some of the scenery thus produced is very beautiful; it includes lovely lakes, magnificent mountains,

pleasant gardens, decidedly superior to anything in the physical world; though on the other hand it also

contains much which to the trained clairvoyant (who has learned to see things as they are) appears

ridiculous � as, for example, the endeavors of the unlearned to make a thought form of some of the

curious symbolic descriptions contained in their various scriptures. An ignorant peasant�s thought image

of a beast ful of (Page 81) eyes within, or of a sea of glass mingled with fire, is natural y often grotesque, although to its maker it is perfectly satisfactory. This astral world is ful of thought-created figures and

landscapes. Men of al religions image here their deities and their respective conceptions of paradise, and

enjoy themselves greatly among these dream forms until they pass into the mental world and come into

touch with something nearer to reality.

Every one after death � any ordinary person, that is, in whose case the rearrangement of the matter of

the astral body has been made � has to pass through al these subdivisions in turn. It does not fol ow that

every one is conscious in al of them. The ordinary decent person has in his astral body but little of the

matter of its lowest portion � by no means enough to construct a heavy shel . The redistribution puts on the outside of the body its densest matter; in the ordinary man this is usual y matter of the sixth

subdivision, mixed with a little of the seventh, and so he finds himself viewing the counterpart of the

physical world.

The ego is steadily withdrawing into himself, and as he withdraws he leaves behind him level after level of

this astral matter. So the length of the man�s detention in any section of the astral world is precisely in

proportion to the amount of its matter which is found in his astral body, and that in turn depends upon the

life he has lived, the desires he has indulged, and the class of matter which by so doing he has attracted

towards him and built into himself. Finding (Page 82) himself then in the sixth section, stil hovering about the places and persons with which he was most closely connected while on earth, the average man as

time passes on finds the earthly surroundings gradual y growing dimmer and becoming of less and less

importance to him, and he tends more and more to mould his entourage into agreement with the more

persistent of his thoughts. By the time that he reaches the third level he finds that this characteristic has entirely superseded the vision of the realities of the astral world.

The second subdivision is a shade less material than the third, for if the latter is the summerland of the

spiritualists, the former is the material heaven of the more ignorant orthodox; while the first or highest

level appears to be the special home of those who during life have devoted themselves to materialistic but

intel ectual pursuits, fol owing them not for the sake of benefiting their fel ow men, but either from motives of selfish ambition or simply for the sake of intel ectual exercise. Al these people are perfectly happy.

Later on they wil reach a stage when they can appreciate something much higher, and when that stage

comes they wil find the higher ready for them.

In this astral life people of the same nation and of the same interests tend to keep together, precisely as

they do here. The religious people, for example, who imagine for themselves a material heaven, do not at

al interfere with men of other faiths whose ideas of celestial joy are different. There is nothing to prevent a Christian from drifting into the heaven of the Hindu (Page 83) or the Mohammedan, but he is little likely

to do so, because his interests and attractions are al in the heaven of his own faith, along with friends

who have shared that faith with him. This is by no means the true heaven described by any of the

religions, but only a gross and material misrepresentation of it; the real thing wil be found when we come

to consider the mental world.

The dead man who has not permitted the rearrangement of the matter of his astral body is free of the

entire world, and can wander al over it at wil , seeing the whole of whatever he examines, instead of only

a part of it as the others do. He does not find it inconveniently crowded, for the astral world is much larger than the surface of the physical earth, while its population is somewhat smal er, because the average life

of humanity in the astral world is shorter than the average of the physical.

Not only the dead, however, are the inhabitants of this astral world, but always about one third of the

living as wel , who have temporarily left their physical bodies behind them in sleep. The astral world has

also a great number of non-human inhabitants, some of them far below the level of man, and some

considerably above him. The nature spirits form an enormous kingdom, some of whose members exist in

the astral world, and make a large part of its population. This vast kingdom exists in the physical world

also, for many of its orders wear etheric bodies, and are only just beyond the range of ordinary physical

sight. Indeed, circumstances not infrequently occur under (Page 84) which they can be seen, and in many

lonely mountain districts these appearances are traditional among the peasants, by whom they are

commonly spoken of as fairies, good people, pixies or brownies.

They are protéan, but usual y prefer to wear a miniature human form. Since they are not yet

individualized, they may be thought of almost as etheric and astral animals; yet many of them are

intel ectual y quite equal to average humanity. They have their nations and types just as we have, and

they are often grouped into four great classes, and cal ed the spirits of earth, water, fire and air. Only the members of the last of these four divisions normal y reside in the astral world, but their numbers as so

prodigious that they are everywhere present in it.

Another great kingdom has its representatives here � the kingdom of the angels (cal ed in India the devas). This is a body of beings who stand far higher in evolution than man, and only the lowest fringe of

their hosts touches the astral world � a fringe whose constituent members are perhaps at about the level

of development of what we should cal a distinctly good man.

We are neither the only nor even the principal inhabitants of our solar system; there are other lines of

evolution running paral el with our own which do not pass through humanity at al , though they must al

pass through a level corresponding to that of humanity. On one of these other lines of evolution are the

nature spirits above described, and at a higher level of that line comes this great kingdom of the angels.

(Page 85 ) At our present level of evolution they come into obvious contact with us only very rarely, but as

we develop we shal be likely to see more of them - especial y as the cyclic progress of the world is now

bringing it more and more under the influence of the Seventh Ray. This Seventh Ray has ceremonial for

one of its characteristics, and it is through ceremonial such as that of the Church or of Free-masonry that

we come most easily into touch with the angelic kingdom.

When al the man�s lower emotions have worn themselves out � al emotions, I mean, which have in

them any thought of self � his life in the astral world is over, and the ego passes on into the mental world.

This is not in any sense a movement in space; it is simply that the steady process of withdrawal has now

passed beyond even the finest kind of astral matter; so that the man�s consciousness is focused in the

mental world. His astral body has not entirely disintegrated, though it is in process of doing so, and he

leaves behind him an astral corpse, just as at a previous stage of the withdrawal he left behind him a

physical corpse. There is a certain difference between the two which should be noticed, because of the

consequences which ensue from it.

When the man leaves his physical body his separation from it should be complete, and general y is so;

but this is not the case with the much finer matter of the astral body. In the course of his physical life the ordinary man usual y entangles himself so much in astral matter (which, from another point of view,

means that he identifies himself so closely with his lower desires) that the indrawing force of the ego

cannot entirely separate him from it again. Consequently, when he final y breaks away from the astral

body and transfers his activities to the mental, he loses a little of himself, he leaves some of himself

behind imprisoned in the matter of the astral body. Page 86)

( This gives a certain remnant of vitality to the astral corpse, so that it stil moves freely in the astral world, and may easily be mistaken by the ignorant for the man himself � the more so as such fragmentary

consciousness as stil remains to it is part of the man, and therefore it natural y regards itself and speaks of itself as the man. It retains his memories but is only a partial and unsatisfactory representation of him.

Sometimes in spiritualistic s�ances one comes into contact with an entity of this description, and

wonders how it is that one�s friend has deteriorated so much since his death. To this fragmentary entity

we give the name �shade�.

At a later stage even this fragment of consciousness dies out of the astral body, but does not return to the

ego to whom it original y belonged. Even then the astral corpse stil remains, but when it is quite without

any trace of its former life we cal it a �shel �. Of itself a shel cannot communicate at a s�ance, or take

any action of any sort; but such shel s are frequently seized upon by sportive nature spirits and used as

temporary habitations. A shel so occupied can communicate at a s�ance and masquerade as its original

owner, since some of his characteristics and certain portions of his memory can be evoked by the nature

spirit from his astral corpse.

When a man fal s asleep, he withdraws in his astral body, leaving the whole of the physical vehicle behind

him. When he dies, he draws out with him the etheric part of the physical body, and consequently has

usual y at least a moment of unconsciousness (Page 87) while he is freeing himself from it. The etheric

double is not a vehicle, and cannot be used as such; so when the man is surrounded by it, he is for the

moment able to function neither in the physical world nor the astral. Some men succeed in shaking

themselves free of this etheric envelope in a few minutes; other rest within it for hours, days or even

weeks.

Nor is it certain that, when the man is free from this, he wil at once become conscious of the astral world.

For there is in him a good deal of the lowest kind of astral matter, so that a shel of this may be made

around him. But he may be quite unable to use that matter. If he had lived a reasonably decent life he is

little in the habit of employing it or responding to its vibrations, and he cannot instantly acquire this habit.

For that reason, he may remain unconscious until that matter gradual y wears away, and some matter

which he is in the habit of using comes on the surface. Such an occlusion, however, is scarcely ever

complete, for even in the most careful y made shel some particles of the finer matter occasional y find

their way to the surface and give him fleeting glimpses of his surroundings.

There are some men who cling so desperately to their physical vehicles that they wil not relax their hold

upon the etheric double, but strive with al their might to retain it. They may be successful in doing so for a considerable time, but only at the cost of great discomfort to themselves. They are shut out from both

worlds, to find themselves surrounded by a dense grey mist, through which they see very (Page 88) dimly

the things of the physical world, but with al the color gone from them. It is a terrible struggle to them to maintain their position in this miserable condition, and yet they wil not relax their hold upon the etheric

double, feeling that that is at least some sort of link with the only world that they know. Thus they drift

about in a condition of loneliness and misery until from sheer fatigue their hold fails them, and they slip

into the comparative happiness of astral life. Sometimes in their desperation they grasp blindly at other

bodies, and try to enter into them, and occasional y they are successful in such an attempt. They may

seize upon a baby body, ousting the feeble personality for whom it was intended, or sometimes they

grasp even the body of an animal. Al this trouble arises entirely from ignorance, and it can never happen

to anyone who understands the laws of life and death.

When the astral life is over, the man dies to that world in turn, and awakens in the mental world. With him

it is not at al what it is to the trained clairvoyant, who ranges through it and lives amidst the surroundings which he finds there, precisely as he would in the physical or astral worlds. The ordinary man has al

through his life been encompassing himself with a mass of thought-forms. Some which are transitory, to

which he pays little attention, have fal en away from his long ago, but those which represent the main

interests of his life are always with him, and grow ever stronger and stronger. If some of these have been

selfish, their force pours down into astral matter, and he has exhausted (Page 89) them during his life in

the astral world. But those which are entirely unselfish belong purely to his mental body, and so when he

finds himself in the mental world it is through these special thoughts that he is able to appreciate it.

His mental body is by no means ful y developed; only those parts of it are real y in action to their ful est

extent which he has used in this altruistic manner. When he awakens again after the second death his

first sense is one of indescribable bliss and vitality � a feeling of such utter joy in living that he needs for the time nothing but just to live. Such bliss is of the essence of life in al the higher worlds of the system.

Even astral life has possibilities of happiness far greater than anything that we can know in the dense

body; but the heaven life in the mental world is out of al proportions more blissful than the astral. In each higher world the same experience is repeated. Merely to live in any one them seems the uttermost

conceivable bliss; and yet, when the next one is reached, it is seen that it far surpasses the last.

Just as the bliss increases, so does the wisdom and the breadth of view. A man fusses about in the

physical world and thinks himself so busy and so wise; but when he touches even the astral, he realizes

at once that he has been al the time only a caterpil ar crawling about and seeing nothing but his own leaf,

whereas now he has spread his wings like the butterfly and flown away into the sunshine of a wider world.

Yet, impossible as it may seem, the same experience is repeated when he passes into the (Page 90)

mental world, for this life is in turn so much ful er and wider and more intense than the astral that once

more no comparison is possible. And yet beyond al these there is stil another life, that of the intuitional world, unto which even this is but as moonlight unto sunlight.

The man�s position in the mental world differs widely from that in the astral. There he was using a body

to which he was thoroughly accustomed, a body which he had been in the habit of employing every night

during sleep. Here he finds himself living in a vehicle which he has never used before � a vehicle

furthermore which is very far from being ful y developed � a vehicle which shuts him out to a great extent

from the world about him, instead of enabling him to see it. The lower part of his nature burnt itself away

during his purgatorial life, and now there remains to him only his higher and more refined thoughts, the noble and unselfish aspirations which he poured out during earth life. These cluster round him, and make

a sort of shel about him, through the medium of which he is able to respond to certain types of vibrations

in this refined matter.

These thoughts which surround him are the powers by which he draws upon the wealth of the heaven-

world, and he finds it to be a storehouse of infinite extent, upon which he is able to draw just according to the power of those thoughts and aspirations; for in this world is existing the infinite ful ness of the Divine Mind, open in al its limitless affluence to every soul, just in proportion as that soul has qualified itself to receive. A man who has already completed (Page 91) his human evolution, who has ful y realized and

unfolded the divinity whose germ is within him, finds the whole of this glory within his reach; but since

none of us has yet done that, since we are only gradual y rising toward that splendid consummation, it

fol ows that none of us as yet can grasp that entirety.

But each draws from it and cognizes so much of it as he has by previous effort prepared himself to take.

Different individuals bring different capacities; they tel us in the East that each man brings his own cup,

and some of the cups are large and some are smal , but smal or large every cup is fil ed to its utmost

capacity; the sea of bliss holds far more than enough for al .

A man can look out upon this glory and beauty only through the windows which he himself has made.

Every one of these thought-forms is such a window, through which response may come to him from the

forces without. If during his earth life he has chiefly regarded physical things, then he has made for

himself but few windows through which this higher glory can shine in upon him. Yet every man who is

above the lowest savage must have had some touch of pure unselfish feeling, even if it were but once in

al his life, and that wil be a window for him now.

The ordinary man is not capable of any great activity in this mental world; his condition is chiefly

receptive, and his vision of anything outside his own shel of thought is of the most limited character. He is surrounded by living forces, mighty angelic inhabitants of this glorious world, and many of their (Page 92)

orders are very sensitive to certain aspirations of man and readily respond to them. But a man can take

advantage of these only in so far as he has already prepared himself to profit by them, for his thoughts

and aspirations are only along certain lines, and he cannot suddenly form new lines. There are many

directions which the higher thought may take � some of them personal and some impersonal. Among the

latter are art, music and philosophy; and a man whose interest lay along any one of these lines finds both

measureless enjoyment and unlimited instruction waiting for him � that is, the amount of enjoyment and

instruction is limited only by his power of perception.

We find a large number of people whose only higher thoughts are those connected with affection and

devotion. If a man loves another deeply or if he feels strong devotion to a personal deity, he makes a

strong mental image of that friend or the deity, and the object of his feeling is often present in his mind.

Inevitably he takes that mental image into the heaven world with him, because it is to that level of matter

that it natural y belongs.

Take first the feeling of affection. The love which forms and retains such an image is very powerful force

� a force which is strong enough to reach and to act upon the ego of his friend in the higher part of the

mental world. It is that ego that is the real man whom he loves � not the physical body which is so partial

a representation of him. The ego of the friend, feeling this vibration, at once and eagerly responds to it,

and pours himself into the thought (Page 93) form which has been made for him; so that the man�s

friend is truly present with him more vividly than ever before. To this result it makes no difference

whatever whether the friend is what we cal living or dead; the appeal is made not to the fragment of the

friend which is sometimes imprisoned in a physical body, but to the man himself on his own true level;

and he always responds. A man who has a hundred friends can simultaneously and ful y respond to the

affection of every one of them, for no number of representations on a lower level can exhaust the infinity

of the ego.

Thus every man in his heaven life has around him al the friends for whose company he wishes, and they are for him always at their best, because he himself makes for them in the thought-form through which

they manifest to him. In our limited physical world we are so accustomed to thinking of our friend as only

the limited manifestation which we know in the physical world, that it is at first difficult for us to realize the grandeur of the conception; when we can realize it, we shal see how much nearer we are in truth to our

friends in the heaven life than we ever were on earth. The same is true in the case of devotion. The man

in the heaven world is two great stages nearer to the object of his devotion than he was during physical

life, and so his experiences are of a far more transcendent character.

In this mental world, as in the astral, there are seven subdivisions. The first, second and third are the

habitat of the ego in his causal body, so the mental body contains matter of the remaining four only, (Page

94) and it is in those sections that his heaven life is passed. Man does not, however, pass from one to the

other of these, as in the case in the astral world, for there is nothing in this life corresponding to the

rearrangement. Rather is the man drawn to the level which best corresponds to the degree of his

development, and on that level he spends the whole of his life in the mental body. Each man makes his

own conditions, so that the number of varieties is infinite.

Speaking broadly, we may say that the dominant characteristic observed in the lowest portion is unselfish

family affection. Unselfish it must be, or it would find no place here; al selfish tinges, if there were any, worked out their results in the astral world. The dominant characteristic of the sixth level may be said to

be anthropomorphical religious devotion; whilst that of the fifth section is devotion expressing itself in

active work of some sort. Al these � the fifth, sixth and seventh subdivisions � are concerned with the

working out of devotion to personalities (either to one�s family and friends or to a personal deity) rather

than the wider devotion to humanity for its own sake, which finds its expression in the next section. The

activities of this fourth stage are varied. They can best be arranged in four main divisions: unselfish

pursuit of spiritual knowledge; high philosophy or scientific thought; literary or artistic ability exercised for unselfish purposes; and service for the sake of service.

Even to this glorious heaven life there comes an (Page 95) end, and then the mental body in its turn drops

away as the others have done, and the man�s life in his causal body begins. Here the man needs no

windows, for this is his true home and al his wal s have fal en away. The majority of men have as yet but

very little consciousness at such a height as this; they rest dreamily unobservant and scarcely awake, but

such vision as they have is true, however limited it may be by their lack of development. Stil , every time

they return, these limitations wil be smal er, and they themselves wil be greater; so that this truest life wil be wider and ful er for them.

As this improvement continues, this casual life grows longer and longer, assuming an ever larger

proportion as compared to the existence at lower levels. And as he grows, the man becomes capable not

only of receiving but also of giving. Then indeed is his triumph approaching, for he is learning the lesson

of the Christ, learning the crowning glory of sacrifice, the supreme delight of pouring out al his life for the helping of his fel ow-men, the devotion of the self to the al , of celestial strength to human service, of al those splendid heavenly forces to the aid of the struggling sons of earth. That is part of the life that lies before us; these are some of the steps which even we who are stil so near the bottom of the golden

ladder may see rising above us, so that we may report them to those who have not seen as yet, in order

that they too may open their eyes to the unimaginable splendor which surrounds them here and now in

this dul daily life. This is a part of the (Page 96) gospel of Theosophy � the certainty of this sublime

future for al . It is certain because it is here already; because to inherit it we have only to fit ourselves for it.����(Page 97)

CHAPTER VII

REINCARNATION

This life of the ego in his own world, which is so glorious and so ful y satisfying for the developed man,

plays but a very smal part in the life of the ordinary person, for in his case the ego has not yet reached a

sufficient stage of development to be awake in his causal body. In obedience to the law of nature he has withdrawn into it, but in doing so he has lost the sensation of vivid life, and restless desire to feel this once more pushes him in the direction of another descent into matter.

This is the scheme of evolution appointed for man at the present stage � that he shal develop by

descending into grosser matter, and then ascend to carry back into himself the result of the experiences

so obtained. His real life, therefore, covers mil ions of years, and what we are in the habit of cal ing a life is only one day of this greater existence. Indeed, it is in reality only a smal part of one day; for a life of seventy years in the physical world is often succeeded by a period of twenty times that length spent in

higher spheres.

Every one of us has a long line of these physical lives behind him, and the ordinary man has a fairly long

line stil in front of him. Each of such lives is a day at school. The ego puts upon himself his garment of

flesh and goes forth into the school of (Page 98) the physical world to learn certain lessons. He learns

them, or does not learn them, or partial y learns them, as the case may be, during his school day of earth

life; then he lays aside the vesture of the flesh and returns home to his own level for rest and refreshment.

In the morning of each new life he takes up again his lesson at the point where he left it the night before.

Some lessons he may be able to learn in one day, while others may take him many days.

If he is an apt pupil and learns quickly what is needed, if he obtains an intel igent grasp of the rules of the school, and takes the trouble to adapt his conduct to them, his school life is comparatively short, and

when it is over he goes forth ful y equipped into the real life of the higher worlds for which al this is only a preparation. Other egos are dul er boys who do not learn so quickly; some of them do not understand the

rules of the school, and through that ignorance are constantly breaking them; others are wayward, and

even when they see the rules they cannot at once bring themselves to act in harmony with them. Al of

these have a longer school life, and by their own actions they delay their entry upon the real life of the

higher worlds.

For this is a school in which no pupil ever fails; every one must go on to the end. He has no choice as to

that; but the length of time which he wil take in qualifying himself for the higher examinations is left

entirely to his own discretion. The wise pupil, seeing that school life is not a thing in itself, but (Page 99) only a preparation for a more glorious and far wider life, endeavors to comprehend as ful y as possible the

rules of his school, and shapes his life in accordance with them as closely as he can, so that no time may

be lost in the learning of whatever lessons are necessary. He co-operates intel igently with the Teachers,

and sets himself to do the maximum of work which is possible for him, in order that as soon as he can he

may come of age and enter into his kingdom as a glorified ego.

Theosophy explains to us the laws under which this school life must be lived, and in that way gives a

great advantage to its students. The first great law is that of evolution. Every man has to become a

perfect man, to unfold to the ful est degree the divine possibilities which lie latent within him, for that

unfoldment is the object of the entire scheme so far as he is concerned. This law of evolution steadily

presses him onward to higher and higher achievements. The wise man tries to anticipate its demands �

to run ahead of the necessary curriculum, for in that way he not only avoids al col ision with it, but he

obtains the maximum of assistance from its action. The man who lags behind in the race of life finds its

steady pressure constantly constraining him � a pressure which, if resisted, rapidly becomes painful.

Thus the laggard on the path of evolution has always the sense of being hunted and driven by fate, while

the man who intel igently co-operates is left perfectly free to choose the direction in which he shal move,

so long as it is onward and upward. (Page 100)

The second great law under which this evolution is taking place is the law of cause and effect. There can

be no effect without its cause, and every cause must produce its effect. They are in fact not two but one,

for the effect is real y part of the cause, and he who sets one in motion� sets the other also. There is in

Nature no such idea as that of reward or punishment, but only of cause and effect. Any one can see this

in connection with mechanics or chemistry; the clairvoyant sees it equal y clearly with regard to the

problems of evolution. The same law obtains in the higher as in the lower worlds; there, as here, the

angle of reflection is always equal to the angle of incidence. It is a law of mechanics that action and

reaction are equal and opposite. In the almost infinitely finer matter of the higher worlds the reaction is by no means always instantaneous; it may sometimes be spread over long periods of time, but it returns

inevitably and exactly.

Just as certain in its working as the mechanical law in the physical world is the higher law, according to

which the man who sends out a good thought or does a good action receives good in return, while the

man who sends out an evil thought or does an evil action receives evil in return with equal accuracy �

once more, not in the least as a reward or punishment administered by some external wil , but simply as

the definite and mechanical result of his own activity. Man has learnt to appreciate a mechanical result in

the physical world, because the reaction is usual y almost immediate and can be seen by him. (Page101)

He does not invariably understand the reaction in the higher worlds because that takes a wider sweep,

and often returns not in this physical life, but in some future one.

The action of this law affords the explanation of a number of the problems of ordinary life. It accounts for

the different destinies imposed upon people, and also for the differences in the people themselves. If one

man is clever in a certain direction and another is stupid, it is because in a previous life the clever man

has devoted much effort to practice in that particular direction, while the stupid man is trying it for the first time. The genius and the precocious child are examples not of the favoritism of some deity but of the

result produced by previous lives of application. Al the varied circumstances which surround us are the

result of our own actions in the past, precisely as are the qualities of which we find ourselves in

possession. We are what we have made ourselves, and our circumstances are such as we have

deserved.

There is, however, a certain adjustment or apportionment of these effects. Though the law is a natural law

and mechanical in its operation, there are nevertheless certain great Angels who are concerned with its

administration. They cannot change by one feather weight the amount of the result which fol ows upon

any given thought or act, but they can within certain limits expedite or delay its action, and decide what

form it shal take.

If this were not done there would be at least a (Page 102) possibility that in his earlier stages the man

might blunder so seriously that the results of his blundering might be more than he could bear. The plan

of the Deity is to give man a limited amount of freewil ; if he uses that smal amount wel , he earns the

right to a little more next time; if he used it badly, suffering comes upon him as the result of such evil use, and he finds himself restrained by the result of his previous actions. As the man learns how to use his free

wil , more and more of it is entrusted to him, so that he can acquire for himself practical y unbounded

freedom in the direction of good, but his power to do wrong is strictly restricted. He can progress as

rapidly as he wil , but he cannot wreck his life in his ignorance. In the earlier stages of the savage life of primitive man it is natural that there should be on the whole more of evil than of good, and if the entire

result of his actions came at once upon a man as yet so little developed, it might wel crush the newly

evolved powers which are stil so feeble.

Besides this, the effects of his actions are varied in character. While some of them produce immediate

results, others need much more time for their action, and so it comes to pass that as the man develops he

has above him a hovering cloud of undischarged results, some of them good, some of them bad. Out of

this mass (which we may regard for the purposes of analogy much as though it were a debt owing to the

powers of nature) a certain amount fal s due in each of his successive births; and that amount, so (Page

103) assigned, may be thought of as the man�s destiny for that particular life.

Al that it means is that a certain amount of joy and a certain amount of suffering are due to him, and wil

unavoidably happen to him; how he wil meet this destiny and what use he wil make of it, that is left

entirely to his own option. It is a certain amount of force which has to work itself out. Nothing can prevent the action of that force, but its action may always be modified by the application of a new force in another

direction, just as is the case in mechanics. The result of past evil is like any other debt; it may be paid in one large check upon the bank of life � by some one supreme catastrophe; or it may be paid in a number

of smal er notes, in minor troubles and worries; in some cases it may even be paid in the smal change of

a vast number of petty annoyances. But one thing is quite certain � that, in some form or other, paid it wil have to be.

The conditions of our present life, then, are absolutely the result of our own action in the past; and the

other side of that statement is that our actions in this life are building up conditions for the next one. A

man who finds himself limited either in powers or in outer circumstances may not always be able to make

himself or his conditions al that he would wish in this life; but he can certainly secure for the next one

whatever he chooses.

Man�s every action ends not with himself, but invariably affects others around him. In some cases this

effect may be comparatively trivial, while in (Page 104) others it may be of the most serious character. The

trivial results, whether good or bad are simply smal debits or credits in our account with Nature; but the

greater effects, whether good or bad, make a personal account which is to be settled with the individual

concerned.

A man who gives a meal to a hungry beggar, or cheers him by a kindly word, wil receive the result of his

good action as part of a kind of general fund of Nature�s benefits; but one who by some good action

changes the whole current of another man�s life wil assuredly have to meet that same man again in a

future life, in order that he who has been benefited may have the opportunity of repaying the kindness

that has been done to him. One who causes annoyance to another wil suffer proportionately for it

somewhere, somehow, in the future, though he may never meet again the man whom he has troubled;

but one who does serious harm to another, one who wrecks his life or retards his evolution, must certainly

meet his victim again at some later point in the course of their lives, so that he may have the opportunity,

by kindly and self-sacrificing service, of counterbalancing the wrong which he has done. In short, large

debts must be paid personal y, but smal ones go into the general fund.

These then are the principal factors which determine the next birth of the man. First acts the great law of

evolution, and its tendency is to press the man into that position in which he can most easily develop the

qualities which he most needs. For the purposes of the general scheme, humanity is divided (Page 105)

into great races, cal ed root-races, which rule and occupy the world successively. The great Aryan or

Indo-Caucasian race, which at the present moment includes the most advanced ofEearth�s inhabitants,

is one of these. That which came before it in the order of evolution was the Mongolian race, usual y cal ed

in Theosophical books Atlantean, because the continent from which it ruled the world lay where now rol

the waters of the Atlantic ocean. Before that came the Negroid race, some of whose descendants stil

exist, though by this time much mingled with offshoots of later races. From each of these great root-races

there are many offshoots which we cal sub-races � such, for example, as the Romance races or the

Teutonic; and each of these sub-races in turn divides itself into branch races, such as the French and the

Italians, the English and the Germans.

These arrangements are made in order that for each ego there may be a wide choice of varying

conditions and surroundings. Each race is especial y adapted to develop within its people one or other of

the qualities which are needed in the course of evolution. In every nation there exist an almost infinite

number of diverse conditions, riches and poverty, a wide field of opportunities or a total lack of them,

facilities for development or conditions under which development is difficult or wel -nigh impossible.

Amidst al these infinite possibilities the pressure of the law of evolution tends to guide the man to

precisely those which best suit his needs at the stage at which he happens to be.

But the action of this law is limited by that other (Page 106) law of which we spoke, the law of cause and

effect. The man�s actions in the past may not have been such as to deserve (if we may put it so) the

best possible opportunities; he may have set in motion in his past certain forces the inevitable result of

which wil be to produce limitations; and these limitations may operate to prevent his receiving that best

possible of opportunities, and so as the result of his own actions in the past he may have to put up with

the second-best. So we may say that the action of the law of evolution, which if left to itself would do the

very best possible for every man, is restrained by the man�s own previous actions.

An important feature in that limitation � one which may act most powerful y for good or for evil � is the influence of the group of egos with which the man has made definite links in the past � those with whom

he has formed strong ties of love or hate, of helping or of injury � those souls whom he must meet again

because of connections made with them in days of long ago. His relation with them is a factor which must

be taken into consideration before it can be determined where and how he shal be reborn.

The wil of the Deity is man�s evolution. The effort of that nature which is an expression of the Deity is to give the man whatever is most suitable for that evolution; but this is conditioned by the man�s deserts in

the past and by the links which he has already formed. It may be assumed that a man descending into

incarnation could learn the lessons necessary for that life in any one of a hundred positions. (Page 107)

From half of these or more than half he may be debarred by the consequences of some of his many and

varied actions in the past. Among the few possibilities which remain open to him, the choice of one

possibility in particular may be determined by the presence in that family or in that neighborhood of other

egos upon whom he has a claim for services rendered, or to whom he in his turn owes a debt of love.

(Page 108)

CHAPTER VIII

THE PURPOSE OF LIFE

To fulfil our duty in the divine scheme we must try to understand not only that scheme as a whole, but the

special part that man is intended to play in it. The divine outbreathing reaches its deepest immersion in

matter in the mineral kingdom, but it reaches its ultimate point of differentiation not at the lowest level of materiality, but at the entrance into the human kingdom on the upward arc of evolution. We have thus to

realize three stages in the course of this evolution:

(a) The downward arc in which the tendency is toward differentiation and also toward greater materiality. In this stage spirit is involving itself in matter, in order that it may learn to receive impressions through it.

(b) The earlier part of the upward arc, in which the tendency is stil toward greater differentiation, but at the same time toward spiritualization and escape from materiality. In this stage the spirit is learning to dominate matter and to see it as an expression of itself.

(c) The later part of the upward arc, when differentiation has been final y accomplished, and the tendency is toward unity as wel as toward greater spirituality. In this stage the spirit, having learnt (Page109) perfectly how to receive impressions through matter and how to express itself through it, and

having awakened its dormant powers, learns to use these powers rightly in the service of the Deity.

The object of the whole previous evolution has been to produce the ego as a manifestation of the Monad.

Then the ego in its turn evolves by putting itself down into a succession of personalities. Men who do not

understand this look upon the personality as the self, and consequently live for it alone, and try to regulate their lives for what appears to be its temporary advantage. The man who understands realizes that the

only important thing is the life of the ego, and that its progress is the object for which the temporary

personality must be used. Therefore when he has to decide between two possible courses he thinks not,

as the ordinary man might: �Which wil bring the greater pleasure and profit to me as a personality?�

but �Which wil bring greater progress to me as an ego?� Experience soon teaches him that nothing

can ever be real y good for him, or for any one, which is not good for al , and so presently he learns to

forget himself altogether, and to ask only what wil be best for humanity as a whole.

Clearly then at this stage of evolution whatever tends to unity, whatever tends to spirituality, is in accord with the plan of the Deity for us, and is therefore right for us, while whatever tends to separateness or to

materiality is certainly equal y wrong for us. There are thoughts and emotions which tend to unity, such as

love, sympathy, reverence, benevolence; (Page 110) there are others which tend to disunion, such as

hatred, jealousy, envy, pride, cruelty, fear. Obviously the former group are for us the right, the latter group are for us the wrong.

In al these thoughts and feelings which are clearly wrong, we recognize one dominant note, the thought

of self; while in al those which are clearly right we recognize that the thought is turned toward others, and that the personal self is forgotten. Wherefore we see that selfishness is the one great wrong, and that

perfect unselfishness is the crown of al virtue. This gives us at once a rule of life. The man who wishes

intel igently to co-operate with the Divine Wil must lay aside al thought of the advantage or pleasure of

the personal self, and must devote himself exclusively to carrying out that Wil by working for the welfare

and happiness of others.

This is a high ideal, and difficult of attainment, because there lies behind us such a long history of

selfishness. Most of us are as yet far from the purely altruistic attitude; how are we to go to work to attain it, lacking as we do the necessary intensity in so many of the good qualities, and possessing so many

which are undesirable?

Here comes into operation the great law of cause and effect to which I have already referred. Just as we

can confidently appeal to the laws of nature in the physical world, so may we also appeal to these laws of

the higher world. If we find evil qualities within us, they have grown up by slow degrees through ignorance

and through self-indulgence. Now (Page 111) that the ignorance is dispel ed by knowledge, now that in

consequence we recognize the quality as an evil, the method of getting rid of it lies obviously before us.

For each of these vices there is a contrary virtue; if we find one of them rearing its head within us, let us immediately determine deliberately to develop within ourselves the contrary virtue. If a man realizes that

in the past he has been selfish, that means that he has set up within himself the habit of thinking of

himself first and pleasing himself, of consulting his own convenience or his pleasure without due thought

of the effect upon others; let him set to work purposeful y to form the exactly opposite habit, to make a

practice before doing anything of thinking how it wil affect al those around him; let him set himself

habitual y to please others, even though it be at the cost of trouble or privation for himself. This also in

time wil become a habit, and by developing it he wil have kil ed out the other.

If a man finds himself ful of suspicion, ready always to assign evil motives to the actions of those about

him, let him set himself steadily to cultivate trust in his fel ows, to give them credit always for the highest possible motives. It may be said that a man who does this wil lay himself open to be deceived, and that in

many cases his confidence wil be misplaced. That is a smal matter; it is far better for him that he should

sometimes be deceived as a result of his trust in his fel ows than that he should save himself from such

deception by maintaining a (Page 112) constant attitude of suspicion. Besides, confidence begets

faithfulness. A man who is trusted wil general y prove himself worthy of the trust, whereas a man who is

suspected is likely presently to justify that suspicion.

If a man finds in himself the tendency toward avarice, let him go out of his way to be especial y generous;

if he finds himself irritable, let him definitely train himself in calmness; if he finds himself devoured by

curiosity, let him deliberately refuse again and again to gratify that curiosity; if he is liable to fits of

depression, let him persistently cultivate cheerfulness, even under the most adverse circumstances.

In every case the existence of an evil quality in the personality means a lack of the corresponding good

quality in the ego. The shortest way to get rid of that evil and to prevent its reappearance is to fil the gap in the ego, and the good quality which is thus developed wil show itself as an integral part of the man�s

character through al his future lives. An ego cannot be evil, but he can be imperfect. The qualities which

he develops cannot be other than good qualities, and when they are wel defined they show themselves in

each of al his numerous personalities, and consequently those personalities can never be guilty of the

vices opposite to these qualities; but where there is a gap in the ego, where there is a quality

undeveloped, there is nothing inherent in the personality to check the growth of the opposite vice; and

since others in the world about him already possess (Page 113) that vice, and man is an imitative animal,

it is quite probable that it wil speedily manifest itself in him. This vice, however, belongs to the vehicles only and not to the man inside. In these vehicles its repetition may set up a momentum which is hard to

conquer; but if the ego bestirs himself to create in himself the opposite virtue, the vice is cut off at its root, and can no longer exist � neither in this life nor in al the lives that are to come.

A man who is trying to evolve these qualities in himself wil find certain obstacles in his way � obstacles

which he must learn to surmount. One of these is the critical spirit of the age � the disposition to find fault with a thing, to belittle everything, to look for faults in everything, and in everyone. The exact opposite of this is what is needed for progress. He who wishes to move rapidly along the path of evolution must learn

to see good in everything � to see the latent Deity in everything and in every one. Only so can he help

those other people � only so can he get the best out of those other things.

Another obstacle is the lack of perseverance. We tend in these days to be impatient; if we try any plan we

expect immediate results from it, and if we do not get them, we give up that plan and try something else.

That is not the way to make progress in occultism. The effort which we are making is to compress into

one or two lives the evolution which would natural y take perhaps a hundred lives. That is not the sort of

undertaking in which immediate results are to be expected. We attempt to uproot an (Page114) evil habit,

and we find it hard work; why? Because we have indulged in that practice for, perhaps, twenty thousand

years; one cannot shake off the custom of twenty thousand years in a day or two. We have al owed that

habit to gain an enormous momentum, and before we can set up a force in the opposite direction we have

to overcome that momentum. That cannot be done in a moment, but it is absolutely certain that it wil be

done eventual y, if we persevere, because the momentum, however strong it may be, is a finite quality,

whereas the power that we can bring to bear against it is the infinite power of the human wil , which can

make renewed efforts day after day, year after year, even life after life if necessary.

Another great difficulty in our way is the lack of clearness in our thought. People in the West are little used to clear thought with regard to religious matters. Everything is vague and nebulous. For occult

development vagueness and nebulosity wil not do. Our conceptions must be clear cut and our thought

images definite. Other necessary characteristics are calmness and cheerfulness; these are rare in

modern life, but are absolute essentials for the work which we are here undertaking.

The process of building a character is as scientific as that of developing one�s muscles. Many a man,

finding himself with certain muscles flabby and powerless takes that as his natural condition, and regards

their weakness as a kind of destiny imposed upon him; but anyone who understands a little of the human

body is aware that by continued exercise (Page 115) those muscles can be brought into a state of health

and the whole body eventual y put in order. In exactly the same way, many a man finds himself

possessed of a bad tamper or a tendency to avarice or suspicion or self-indulgence, and when in

consequence of any of these vices he commits some great mistake or does some great harm he offers it

as an excuse that he is a hasty-tempered man, or that he possesses this or that quality by nature �

implying that therefore he cannot help it.

In this case just as in the other the remedy is in his own hands. Regular exercise of the right kind wil

develop a certain muscle, and regular mental exercise of the right kind wil develop a missing quality in a

man�s character. The ordinary man does not realize that he can do this, and even if he sees that he can

do it, he does not see why he should, for it means much effort and much self-repression. He knows of no

adequate motive for undertaking a task so laborious and painful.

The motive is supplied by the knowledge of the truth. One who gains an intel igent comprehension of the

direction of evolution feels it not only his interest but his privilege and his delight to co-operate with it. One who wil s the end wil s also the means; in order to be able to do good work for the world he must develop

within himself the necessary strength and the necessary qualities. Therefore he who wishes to reform the

world must first of al reform himself. He must learn to give up altogether the attitude of insisting upon

rights, and must devote himself utterly (Page 116) to the most earnest performance of his duties. He must

learn to regard every connection with his fel owman as an opportunity to help that fel owman, or in some

way to do him good.

One who studies these subjects intel igently cannot but realize the tremendous power of thought, and the

necessity for its efficient control. Al action springs from thought, for even when it is done (as we say)

without thought, it is the instinctive expression of the thoughts, desires and feelings which the man has al owed to grow luxuriantly within himself in earlier days.

The wise man, therefore, wil watch his thought with the greatest of care, for in it he possesses a powerful

instrument, for the right use of which he is responsible. It is his duty to govern his thought, lest it should be al owed to run riot and to do evil to himself and to others; it is his duty also to develop his thought

power, because by means of it a vast amount of actual and active good can be done. Thus control ing his

thought and his action, thus eliminating from himself al evil and unfolding in himself al good qualities, the man presently raises himself far above the level of his fel ows, and stands out conspicuously among them

as one who is working on the side of good as against evil, of evolution as against stagnation.

The members of the great Hierarchy in whose hands is the evolution of the world are watching always for

such men in order that They may train them to help in the greater work. Such a man inevitably attracts

Their attention and They begin to (Page 117) use him as an instrument in Their work. If he proves himself

a good and efficient instrument, presently They wil offer him definite training as an apprentice, that by

helping Them in the world-business which They have to do he may some day become even as They are,

and join the might Brotherhood to which They belong.

But for an honor so great as this mere ordinary goodness wil not suffice. True, a man must be good first

of al , or it would be hopeless to think of using him, but in addition to being good he must be wise and

strong. What is needed is not merely a good man, but a great spiritual power. Not only must the candidate

have cast aside al ordinary weaknesses but he must have acquired strong positive qualities before he

can offer himself to Them with any hope that he wil be accepted. He must live no longer as a blundering

and selfish personality, but as an intel igent ego who comprehends the part which he has to play in the

great scheme of the universe. He must have forgotten himself utterly; he must have resigned al thought

of worldly profit or pleasure or advancement; he must be wil ing to sacrifice everything, and himself first of al , for the sake of the work that has to be done. He may be in the world, but he must not be of the world.

He must be careless utterly of its opinion. For the sake of helping man he must make himself something

more than man. Radiant, rejoicing, strong, he must live but for the sake of others and to be an expression

of the love of God in the world. A high ideal, yet not too high; possible, because there are men who have

achieved it.(Page 118)

When a man has succeeded in unfolding his latent possibilities so far that he attracts the attention of the

Masters of the Wisdom, one of Them wil probably receive him as an apprentice upon probation. The

period of probation is usual y seven years, but may be either shortened or lengthened at the discretion of

the Master. At the end of that time, if his work has been satisfactory, he becomes what is commonly

cal ed the accepted pupil. This brings him into close relations with his Master, so that the vibrations of the latter constantly play upon him, and he gradual y learns to look at everything as the Master looks at it.

After yet another interval, if he proves himself entirely worthy, he may be drawn into a stil closer

relationship, when he is cal ed the son of the Master.

These three stages mark his relationship to his own Master only, not to the Brotherhood as a whole. The

Brotherhood admits a man to its ranks only when he has fitted himself to pass the first of the great

Initiations.

This entry into the Brotherhood of Those who rule the world may be thought of as the third of the great

critical points in man�s evolution. The first of these is when he becomes man � when he individualizes

out of the animal kingdom and obtains a causal body. The second is what is cal ed by the Christian

�conversion�, and by the Hindu �the acquirement of discrimination�, and by the Buddhist �the

opening of the doors of the mind�. That is the point at which he realizes the great facts of life, and turns

away from the pursuit of selfish ends in order to move intentional y (Page 119) along with the great current

of evolution in obedience to the divine Wil . The third point is the most important of al , for the Initiation which admits him to the ranks of the Brotherhood also insures him against the possibility of failure to fulfil the divine purpose in the time appointed for it. Hence those who have reached this point are cal ed in the

Christian system the �elect�, the �saved� or the �safe,� and in the Buddhist scheme �those who

have entered on the stream.�For those who have reached this point have made themselves absolutely

certain of reaching a further point also � that of Adeptship, at which they pass into a type of evolution which is definitely superhuman.

The man who has become an Adept has fulfil ed the divine Wil so far as this chain of worlds is

concerned. He has reached, even already the midmost point of the aeon of evolution, the stage

prescribed for man�s attainment at the end of it. Therefore he is at liberty to spend the remainder of that

time either in helping his fel ow-men or in even more splendid work in connection with other and higher

evolutions. He who has not yet been initiated is stil in danger of being left behind by our present wave of

evolution, and dropping into the next one � the �aeonian condemnation� of which the Christ spoke,

which has been mistranslated �eternal damnation�. It is from this fate of possible aeonian failure � that

is, failure for this age, or dispensation, or life-wave � that the man who attains Initiation is �safe�.� He

has �entered upon the stream" which now must bear him on to Adeptship in this present (Page 120) age,

though it is stil possible for him by his actions to hasten or delay his progress along the Path which he is treading.

That first Initiation corresponds to the matriculation which admits a man to a University, and the

attainment of Adeptship to the taking of a degree at the end of the course. Continuing the simile, there are

three intermediate examinations, which are usual y spoken of as the second, third and fourth Initiations,

Adeptship being the fifth. A general idea of the line of this higher evolution may be obtained by studying

the list of what are cal ed in Buddhist books �the fetters� which must be cast off � the qualities of which

a man must rid himself as he treads this Path. These are: the delusion of separateness; doubt or

uncertainty; superstition; attachment to enjoyment; the possibility of hatred; desire for life, either in this or the higher worlds; pride; agitation or irritability; and ignorance. The man who reaches the Adept level has

exhausted al the possibilities of moral development, and so the future evolution which stil lies before him can only mean stil wider knowledge and stil more wonderful spiritual powers. (Page 121)

CHAPTER IX

THE PLANETARY CHAINS

The scheme of evolution of which our Earth forms a part is not the only one in our solar system, for ten

separate chains of globes exist in that system which are al of them theatres of somewhat similar

progress. Each of these schemes of evolution is taking place upon a chain of globes, and in the course of

each scheme its chain of globes goes through seven incarnations. The plan, alike of each scheme as a

whole and of the successive incarnations of its chain of globes, is to dip step by step more deeply into

matter, and then to rise step by step out of it again.

Each chain consists of seven globes, and both globes and chains observe the rule of descending into

matter and then rising out of it again. In order to make this comprehensible let us take as an example the

chain to which our Earth belongs. At the present time it is in its fourth or most material incarnation, and

therefore three of its globes belong to the physical world, two to the astral world and two to the lower part of the mental world. The wave of Divine Life passes in succession from globe to globe of this chain,

beginning with one of the highest, descending gradual y to the lowest and then climbing again to the

same level as that at which it began.

Let us for convenience of reference label the seven (Page 122) globes by the earlier letters of the

alphabet, and number the incarnations in order. Thus, as this is the fourth incarnation of our chain, the

first globe in this incarnation wil be 4A, the second 4B, the third 4C, the fourth (which is our Earth) 4D,

and so on.

These globes are not al composed of physical matter. 4A contains no matter lower than that of the

mental world; it has its counterpart in al the worlds higher than that, but nothing below it. 4B exists in the astral world; but 4C is a physical globe, visible to our telescope, and is in fact the planet which we know

as Mars. Globe 4D is our own Earth, on which the life-wave of the chain is at present in action. Globe 4E

is the planet which we cal Mercury � also in the physical world. Globe 4F is in the astral world,

corresponding on the ascending arc to globe 4B in the descent; while globe 4G corresponds to globe 4A in having its lowest manifestation in the lower part of the mental world. Thus it wil be seen that we have a scheme of globes starting in the lower mental world, dipping through the astral into the physical and then

rising into the lower mental through the astral again.

Just as the succession of the globes in a chain constitutes a descent into matter and an ascent from it

again, so do the successive incarnations of a chain. We have described the condition of affairs in the

fourth incarnation; looking back at the third, we find that that commences not on the lower level of the

mental world but on the higher. Globes 3A and 3G, then, are both of higher mental matter, while globes

(Page123) 3B and 3F are at the lower mental level. Globes 3C and 3E belong to the astral world, and only

globe 3D is visible in the physical world. Although this third incarnation of our chain is long past, the

corpse of this physical globe 3D is stil visible to us in the shape of that dead planet the Moon, whence

that third incarnation is usual y cal ed the lunar chain.

The fifth incarnation of our chain, which stil lies very far in the future, wil correspond to the third. In that, globes 5A and 5G wil be built of higher mental matter, globes 5B and 5F of lower mental matter, globes

5C and 5E of astral matter, and only globe 5D wil be in the physical world. This planet 5D is of course not

yet in existence.

The other incarnations of the chain fol ow the same general rule of gradual y decreasing materiality; 2A,

2G, 6A and 6G are al in the intuitional world; 2B, 2F, 6B and 6F are al in the higher part of the mental

world; 2C, 2E, 6C and 6E are in the lower part of the mental world; 2D and 6D are in the astral world. In

the same way 1A, 1G, 7A and 7G belong to the spiritual world; 1B, 1F, 7B and 7F are in the intuitional

world; 1C, 1E, 7C and 7E are in the higher part of the mental world; 1D and 7D are in the lower part of the

mental world.

Thus it wil be seen that not only does the life-wave in passing through one chain of globes dip down into

matter and rise out of it again, but the chain itself in its successive incarnations does exactly the same

thing.

There are ten schemes of evolution at present existing in our solar system, but only seven of them (Page

124) are at the stage where they have planets in the physical world. These are: (1) that of an

unrecognized planet Vulcan, very near the sun, about which we have very little definite information. It was

seen by the astronomer Hersche, but is now said to have disappeared. We at first understood that it was

in its third incarnation; but it is now regarded as possible that it has recently passed from its fifth to its sixth chain, which would account for its al eged disappearance; (2) that of Venus, which is in its fifth

incarnation, and also therefore has only one visible globe; (3) that of the Earth, Mars and Mercury, which

has three visible planets because it is in its fourth incarnation; (4) that of Jupiter, (5) that of Saturn, (6) that of Uranus, al in their third incarnations; and (7) that of Neptune and the two unnamed planets beyond his

orbit, which is in its fourth incarnation, and therefore has three physical planets as we have.

In each incarnation of a chain (commonly cal ed a chain-period) the wave of Divine Life moves seven

times round the chain of seven planets, and each such movement is spoken of as a round. The time that

the life-wave stays upon each planet, is known as a world-period, and in the course of a world-period

there are seven great root-races. As has been previously explained, these are subdivided into sub-races,

and those again into branch races. For convenience of reference we may state this in tabular form: (Page

125)

Make

7

Branch-Races

1- Sub-Race

7

Sub-Races

1-Root-Race

7

Root-Races

1-World-Period

7

World-Periods

1-Round

7

Rounds

1-Chain-Period

7

Chain-Periods

1-Scheme of Evolution

10

Schemes of Evolution

Our System Evolution

It is clear that the fourth root-race of the fourth globe of the fourth round of a fourth chain-period would be the central point of a whole scheme of evolution, and we find ourselves at the present moment only a little

past the point. The Aryan race, to which we belong, is the fifth root-race of the fourth globe, so that the

actual middle point fel in the time of the last great root-race, the Atlantean. Consequently the human race

as a whole is very little more than halfway through its evolution, and those few souls who are already

nearing Adeptship, which is the end and crown of this evolution, are very far in advance of their fel ows.

How do they come to be so far in advance? Partly and in some cases because they have worked harder,

but usual y because they are older egos � because they were individualized out of the animal kingdom at

an earlier date, and so have had more time for the human part of their evolution.

Any given wave of life sent forth from the Deity usual y spends a chain-period in each of the great

kingdoms of nature. That which in our first chain was ensouling the first elemental kingdom must have

ensouled in the second of those kingdoms in the second chain, the third of them in the Moon-chain, and is

now in the mineral kingdom in the fourth chain. In the future fifth chain it wil ensoul the vegetable

kingdom, in the sixth the animal, and in the seventh it wil attain humanity.

From this it fol ows that we ourselves represented the mineral kingdom on the first chain, the vegetable on

the second, and the animal on the lunar chain. (Page 126) There some of us attained our individualization,

and so we were enabled to enter this Earth-chain as men. Others who were a little more backward did not

succeed in attaining it, and so had to be born into this chain as animals for a while before they could

reach humanity.

Not al of mankind, however, entered this chain together. When the lunar chain came to its end the

humanity upon it stood at various levels. Not Adeptship, but what is now for us the fourth step on the

Path, was the goal appointed for that chain. Those who had attained it (commonly cal ed in theosophical

literature the Lords of the Moon) had, as is usual, seven choices before them as to the way in which they

would serve. Only one of those choices brought them, or rather a few of them, over into this Earth-chain,

to act as guides and teachers to the earlier races. A considerable proportion � a vast proportion, indeed

� of the Moon-men had not attained that level, and consequently had to appear in this Earth-chain as

humanity. Besides this, a great mass of the animal kingdom of the Moon-chain was surging up to the level

of individualization, and some of its members had already reached it, while many others had not. These

latter needed further animal incarnations upon the Earth-chain, and for the moment may be put aside.

There were many classes even among humanity, and the manner in which these distributed themselves

over the Earth-chain needs some explanation. It is the general rule that those who have attained the

highest possible in any chain, on any globe, in (Page 127) any root-race, are not born into the beginning

of the next chain, globe or race, respectively. The earlier stages are always for the backward entities, and

only when they have already passed through a good deal of evolution and are beginning to approach the

level of those others who had done better, do the latter descend into incarnation and join them once

more. That is to say, almost the earlier half of any period of evolution, whether it be a race, a globe or a

chain, seems to be devoted to bringing the backward people up to nearly the level of those who have got

on better; then these latter also (who, in the meantime, have been resting in great enjoyment in the

mental world) descend into incarnation along with the others, and they press on together until the end of

the period.

Thus the first of the egos from the Moon who entered the Earth-chain were by no means the most

advanced. Indeed they may be described as the least advanced of those who had succeeded in attaining

humanity � the animal-men. Coming as they did into a chain of new globes, freshly aggregated, they had

to establish the forms in al the different kingdoms of Nature. This needs to be done at the beginning of

the first round in a new chain, but never after that; for though the life-wave is centered only upon one of

the seven globes of a chain at any given time, yet life has not entirely departed from the other globes. At

the present moment, for example, the life-wave of our chain is centered in this Earth, but on the other two

physical globes of our chain, Mars and Mercury, life stil exists. There is stil a (Page128) population, human, animal and vegetable, and consequently when the life-wave goes round again to either of those

planets there wil be no necessity for the creation of new forms. The old types are already there, and al

that wil happen� wil be a sudden marvel ous fecundity, so that the various kingdoms wil quickly

increase and multiply, and make a rapidly increasing population instead of a stationary one.

It was, then, the animal-men, the lowest class of human beings of the Moon-chain, who established the

forms in the first round of the Earth-chain. Pressing closely after them were the highest of the lunar animal kingdom, who were soon ready to occupy the forms which had just been made. In the second journey

round the seven globes of the Earth-chain, the animal-men who had been the most backward of the lunar

humanity were leaders of this terrene humanity, the highest of the moon-animals making its less

developed grades. The same thing went on in the third round of the Earth-chain, more and more of the

lunar animals attaining individualization and joining the human ranks, until in the middle of that round on

this very globe D which we cal the Earth, a higher class of human beings � the Second Order of moon-

men � descended into incarnation and at once took the lead.

When we come to the fourth, our present round, we find the First Order of the moon-men pouring in upon

us � al the highest and the best of the lunar humanity who had only just fal en short of success. (Page

129) Some of those who had already, even on the Moon, entered upon the Path soon attained its end,

became Adepts and passed away from the Earth. Some few others who had not been quite so far

advanced have attained Adeptship only comparatively recently � that is, within the last few thousand

years, and these are the Adepts of the present day. We, who find ourselves in the higher races of

humanity now, were several stages behind Them, but the opportunity lies before us of fol owing in Their

steps if we wil .

The evolution of which we have been speaking is that of the ego himself, of what might be cal ed the soul

of man; but at the same time there has been also an evolution of the body. The forms built in the first

round were very different from any of which we know anything now. Properly speaking, those which were

made on our physical earth can scarcely be cal ed forms at al , for they were constructed of etheric matter

only, and resembled vague, drifting and almost shapeless clouds. In the second round they were

definitely physical, but stil shapeless and light enough to float about in currents of wind.

Only in the third round did they begin to bear any kind of resemblance to man as we know him today. The

very methods of reproduction of those primitive forms differed from those of humanity today, and far more

resembled those which we now find only in very much lower types of life. Man in those early days was

androgynous, and a definite separation into the sexes took place only about the middle of (Page 130) the

third round. From that time onward until now the shape of man has been steadily evolving along definitely

human lines, becoming smal er and more compact than it was, learning to stand upright instead of

stooping and crawling, and general y differentiating itself from the animal forms out of which it had been

evolved.

One curious break in the regularity of this evolution deserves mention. On this globe, in this fourth round,

there was a departure from the straightforward scheme of evolution. This being the middle globe of a

middle round, the midmost point of evolution upon it marked the last movement at which it was possible

for members of what had been the lunar animal kingdom to attain individualization. Consequently a sort of

strong effort was made � a special scheme was arranged to give a final chance to as many as possible.

The conditions of the first and second rounds were special y reproduced in place of the first and second

races � conditions of which in the earlier rounds these backward egos had not been able ful y to take

advantage. Now, with the additional evolution which they had undergone during the third round, some of

them were able to take such advantage, and so they rushed in at the very last moment before the door

was shut, and became just human. Natural y they wil not reach any high level of human development, but

at least when they try again in some future chain it wil be some advantage to them to have had even this

slight experience of human life.

Our terrestrial evolution received a most valuable (Page 131) stimulus from the assistance given to us by

our sister globe, Venus. Venus is at present in the fifth incarnation of its chain, and in the seventh round

of that incarnation, so that its inhabitants are a whole chain and a half in front of us in evolution. Since, therefore, its people are so much more developed than ours, it was thought desirable that certain Adepts

from the Venus evolution should be transferred to our Earth in order to assist in the special y busy time

just before the closing of the door, in the middle of the fourth root-race.

These august Beings have been cal ed the Lords of the Flame and the Children of the Fire-mist, and They

have produced a wonderful effect upon our evolution. The intel ect of which we are so proud is almost

entirely due to Their presence, for in the natural course of events the next round, the fifth, should be that of intel ectual advancement, and in this our present fourth round we should be devoting ourselves chiefly

to the cultivation of the emotions. We are therefore in reality a long way in advance of the program

marked out for us; and such advance is entirely due to the assistance given by these great Lords of the

Flame. Most of Them stayed with us only through that critical period of our history; a few stil remain to

hold the highest offices of the Great White Brotherhood until the time when men of our own evolution shal

have risen to such a height as to be capable of relieving their august Visitors.

The evolution lying before us in both of the life (Page 132) and of the form; for in future rounds, while the egos wil be steadily growing in power, wisdom and love, the physical forms also wil be more beautiful

and more perfect than they have ever yet been. We have in this world at the present time men at widely

differing stages of evolution, and it is clear that there are vast hosts of savages who are far behind the

great civilized races of the world � so far behind that it is quite impossible that they can overtake them.

Later on in the course of our evolution a point wil be reached at which it is no longer possible for those

undeveloped souls to advance side by side with the others, so that it wil be necessary that a division

should be made.

The proceeding is exactly analogous to the sorting out by a schoolmaster of the boys in his class. During

the school year he has to prepare his boys for a certain examination, and by perhaps the middle of that

school year he knows quite wel which of them wil pass it. If he should have in his class some who are

hopelessly behind the rest, he might reasonably say to them when the middle period was reached:

�It is quite useless for you to continue with your fel ows, for the more difficult lessons which I shal now

have to give wil be entirely unintel igible to you. It is impossible that you can learn enough in the time to pass the examination, so that the effort would only be a useless strain for you, and meantime you would

be a hindrance to the rest of the class. It is therefore far better for you to give up striving after the

impossible, and to take up again (Page 133) the work of the lower class which you did not do perfectly,

and then to offer yourselves for this examination along with next year�s class, for what is now impossible

for you wil then be easy�.

This is in effect exactly what is said at a certain stage in our future evolution, to the most backward egos.

They drop out of this year�s class and come along with the next one. This is the �aeonian

condemnation� to which reference was made a little while ago. It is computed that about two fifths of

humanity wil drop out of the class in this way, leaving the remaining three fifths to go on with far greater rapidity to the glorious destinies which lie before them. (Page 134)

CHAPTER X

THE RESULT OF THEOSOPHICAL STUDY

�Members of the Theosophical Society study these truths and Theosophists endeavor to live them�.

What manner of men then is the true Theosophist in consequence of his knowledge? What is the result in

his daily life of al this study?

Finding that there is a Supreme Power who is directing the course of evolution, and that He is al -wise

and al -loving, the Theosophist sees that everything which exists within this scheme must be intended to

further its progress. He realizes that the scripture which tel s us that al things are working together for

good, is not indulging in a flight of poetic fancy or voicing a pious hope, but stating a scientific fact. The

final attainment of unspeakable glory is an absolute certainty for every son of man, whatever may be his present condition; but that is by no means al . Here and at this present moment he is on his way toward

the glory; and al the circumstances surrounding him are intended to help and not to hinder him, if only

they are rightly understood. It is sadly true that in the world there is much of evil and of sorrow and of

suffering; yet from the higher point of view the Theosophist sees that, terrible though this be, it is only

temporary and superficial, and is al being utilized as a factor in the progress.(Page 135)

When in the days of his ignorance he looked at it from its own level it was almost impossible to see this;

while he looked from beneath at the under side of life, with his eyes fixed al the time upon some apparent

evil, he could never gain a true grasp of its meaning. Now he raises himself above it to the higher levels of thought and consciousness, and looks down upon it with the eye of the spirit and understands it in its

entirety, so he can see that in very truth al is wel � not that al wil be wel at some remote period, but that even now at this moment, in the midst of incessant striving and apparent evil, the mighty current of

evolution is stil flowing, and so al is wel because al is moving on in perfect order toward the final goal.

Raising his consciousness thus above the storm and stress of worldly life, he recognizes what used to

seem to be evil, and notes how it is apparently pressing backwards against the great stream of progress;

but he also sees that the onward sweep of the divine law of evolution bears the same relation to this

superficial evil as does the tremendous torrent of Niagara to the fleckings of foam upon its surface. So

while he sympathizes deeply with al who suffer, he yet realizes what wil be the end of that suffering, and

so for him despair or hopelessness is impossible. He applies this consideration to his own sorrows and

troubles, as wel as to those of the world, and therefore one great result of his Theosophy is a perfect

serenity � even more than that, a perpetual cheerfulness and joy.

For him there is an utter absence of worry, because (Page 136) in truth there is nothing left to worry about, since he knows that al must be wel . His higher Science makes him a confirmed optimist, for it shows him

that whatever of evil there may be in any person or in any movement, it is of necessity temporary,

because it is opposed to the resistless stream of evolution; whereas whatever is good in any person or in

any movement must necessarily be persistent and useful, because it has behind it the omnipotence of

that current, and therefore it must abide and it must prevail.

Yet it must not for a moment be supposed that because he is so ful y assured of the final triumph of good

he remains careless or unmoved by the evils which exist in the world around him. He knows that it is his

duty to combat these to the utmost of his power, because in doing this he is working upon the side of the

great evolutionary force, and is bringing nearer the time of its ultimate victory. None wil be more active

than he in labouring for the good, even though he is absolutely free from the feeling of helplessness and

hopelessness which so often oppresses those who are striving to help their fel owmen.

Another most valuable result of his theosophical study is the absence of fear. Many people are constantly

anxious or worried about something or other; they are fearing lest this or that should happen to them, lest

this or that combination may fail, and so al the while they are in a condition of unrest; and most serious of al for many is the fear of death. For the Theosophist the whole of this feeling is entirely (Page 137) swept away. He realizes that great truth of reincarnation. He knows that he has often before laid aside physical

bodies, and so he sees that death is no more than sleep � that just as sleep comes in between our days

of work and gives us rest and refreshment, so between these days of labor here on earth, which we cal

lives, there comes a long night of astral and heavenly life to give us rest and refreshment and to help us

on our way.

To the Theosophist death is simply the laying aside for a time of this robe of flesh. He knows that it is his duty to preserve the bodily vesture as long as possible, and gain through it al the experience he can; but

when the time comes for him to lay it down he wil do so thankful y, because he knows that the next stage

wil be a much pleasanter one than this. Thus he wil have no fear of death, although he realizes that he

must live his life to the appointed end, because he is here for the purpose of progress, and that progress

is the one truly momentous matter. His whole conception of life is different; the object is not to earn so

much money, not to obtain such and such a position; the one important thing is to carry out the Divine

Plan. He knows that for this he is here, and that everything else must give way to it.

Utterly free also is he from any religious fears or worries or troubles. Al such things are swept aside for him, because he sees clearly that progress toward the highest is the Divine Wil for us, that we cannot

escape from that progress, and that whatever comes in our way and whatever happens to us is (Page

138) meant to help us along that line; that we ourselves are absolutely the only people who can delay our

advance. No longer does he trouble and fear about himself. He simply goes on and does the duty which

comes nearest in the best way that he can, confident that if he does this al wil be wel for him without his perpetual worrying. He is satisfied quietly to do his work and to try to help his fel ows in the race, knowing that the great divine Power behind wil press him onward slowly and steadily, and do for him al that can

be done, so long as his face is set steadfastly in the right direction, so long as he does al he reasonably

can.

Since he knows that we are al part of one great evolution and al literal y the children of one father, he

sees that the universal brotherhood of humanity is no mere poetical conception, but a definite fact; not a

dream of something which is to be in the dim distance of Utopia, but a condition existing here and now.

The certainty of this al -embracing fraternity gives him a wider outlook upon life and a broad impersonal

point of view from which to regard everything. He realizes that the true interests of al are in fact identical, and that no man can ever make real gain for himself at the cost of loss or suffering to some one else. This

is not to him an article of religious belief, but a scientific fact proved to him by his study. He sees that

since humanity is literal y a whole, nothing which injures one man can ever be real y for the good of any

other, for the harm done influences not only the doer but also those who are about him.(Page 139)

He knows that the only true advantage for him is that benefit which he shares with al . He sees that any

advance which he is able to make in the way of spiritual progress or development is something secured

not for himself alone but for others. If he gains knowledge or self-control, he assuredly acquires much for

himself, yet he takes nothing away from any one else, but on the contrary he helps and strengthen others.

Cognizant as he is of the absolute spiritual unity of humanity, he knows that, even in this lower world, no

true profit can be made by one man which is not made in the name of and for the sake of humanity; that

one man�s progress must be a lifting of the burden of al others; that one man�s advance in spiritual

things means a very slight yet not imperceptible advance to humanity as a whole; that every one who

bears suffering and sorrow nobly in his struggle toward the light is lifting a little of the heavy load of the sorrow and suffering of his brothers as wel .

Because he recognizes this brotherhood not merely as a hope cherished by despairing men, but as a

definite fact fol owing in scientific series from al other facts; because he sees this as an absolute

certainty, his attitude towards al those around him changes radical y. It becomes a posture ever of

helpfulness, ever of the deepest sympathy, for he sees that nothing which clashes with their higher

interests can be the right thing for him to do, or can be good for him in any way.

It natural y fol ows that he becomes fil ed with the widest possible tolerance and charity. He cannot but

(Page 140) be always tolerant, because his philosophy shows him that it matters little what man believes,

so long as he is a good man and true. Charitable also he must be, because his wider knowledge enables

him to make al owances for many things which the ordinary man does not understand. The standard of

the Theosophist as to right and wrong is always higher than that of the less instructed man, yet he is far

gentler than the latter in his feeling towards the sinner, because he comprehends more of human nature.

He realizes how the sin appeared to the sinner at the moment of its commission, and so he makes more

al owance than is ever made by the man who is ignorant of al this.

He goes further than tolerance, charity, sympathy; he feels positive love towards mankind, and that leads

him to adopt a position� of watchful helpfulness. He feels that every contact with others is for him an

opportunity, and the additional knowledge which his study has brought to him enables him to give advice

or help in almost any case which comes before him. Not that he is perpetual y thrusting his opinions upon

other people. On the contrary, he observes that to do this is one of the commonest mistakes made by the

uninstructed. He knows that argument is foolish waste of energy, and therefore he declines to argue. If

anyone desires from him explanation or advice he is more than wil ing to give it, yet he has no sort of wish

to convert anyone else to his own way of thinking.

In every relation of life this idea of helpfulness comes into play, not only with regard to his fel owmen (Page 141) but also in connection with the vast animal kingdom which surrounds him. Units of this

kingdom are often brought into close relation with man, and this is for him an opportunity of doing

something for them. The Theosophist recognizes that these are also his brothers, even though they may

be younger brothers, and that he owes a fraternal duty to them also � so to act and so to think that his

relation with them shal be always for their good and never for their harm.

Pre-eminently and above al , this Theosophy is to him a doctrine of common sense. It puts before him, as

far as he can at present know them, the facts about God and man and the relations between them; then

he proceeds to take these facts into account and to act in relation to them with ordinary reason and

common sense. He regulates his life according to the laws of evolution which it has taught him, and this

gives him a total y different standpoint, and a touchstone by which to try everything � his own thoughts

and feelings, and his own actions first of al , and then those things which come before him in the world

outside himself.

Always he applies this criterion: Is the thing right or wrong, does it help evolution or does it hinder it? If a thought or a feeling arises within himself, he sees at once by this test whether it is one he ought to

encourage. If it be for the greatest good of the greatest number then al is wel ; if it may hinder or cause

harm to any being in its progress, then it is evil and to be avoided. Exactly the same reason holds good if

he is cal ed upon to decide (Page 142) with regard to anything outside himself. If from that point of view a

thing be a good thing, then he can consciously support it; if not, then it is not for him.

For him the question of personal interest does not come into the case at al . He thinks simply of the good

of evolution as a whole. This gives him a definite foothold and clear criterion, and removes from him

altogether the pain of indecision and hesitation. The Wil of the Deity is man�s evolution; whatever

therefore helps on that evolution must be good; whatever stands in the way of it and delays it, that thing

must be wrong, even though it may have on its side al the weight of public opinion and immemorial

tradition.

Knowing that the true man is the ego and not the body, he sees that it is the life of the ego only which is

real y of moment, and that everything connected with the body must unhesitatingly be subordinated to

those higher interests. He recognizes that this earth life is given to him for the purpose of progress, and

that that progress is the one important thing. The real purpose of his life is the unfoldment of his powers

as an ego, the development of his character. He knows that there must be evolvement not only of the

physical body but also of the mental nature, of the mind, and of the spiritual perceptions. He sees that

nothing short of absolute perfection is expected of him in connection with this development; that al power

with regard to it is in his own hands; that he has everlasting time before him in which to attain (Page 143)

this perfection, but the sooner it is gained the happier and more useful wil he be.

He recognizes his life as nothing but a day at school, and his physical body as a temporary vesture

assumed for the purpose of learning through it. He knows at once that this purpose of learning lessons is

the only one of any real importance, and that the man who al ows himself to be diverted from that purpose

by any consideration whatever is acting with inconceivable stupidity. To him the life devoted exclusively to

physical objects, to the acquisition of wealth or fame, appears the merest child�s play � a senseless

sacrifice of al that is real y worth having for the sake of a few moment�s gratification of the lower part of his nature. He �sets his affection on things above and not on things of the earth�, not only because he

sees this to be the right course of action, but because he realizes so clearly the valuelessness of these

things of earth. He always tries to take the higher point of view, for he knows that the lower is utterly

unreliable � that the lower desires and feelings gather round him like a dense fog, and make it impossible

for him to see anything clearly from that level.

Whenever he finds a struggle going on within him he remembers that he himself is the higher, and that

this which is the lower is not the real self, but merely an uncontrol ed part of one of its vehicles. He knows that though he may fal a thousand times on the way toward his goal, his reason for trying to reach it

remains just as strong after the thousandth fal (Page 144) as it was in the beginning, so that it would not

only be useless but unwise and wrong to give way to despondency and hopelessness.

He begins his journey upon the road of progress at once � not only because he knows that it is far easier for him now than it wil be if he leaves the effort until later, but chiefly because if he makes the endeavor now and succeeds in achieving some progress, if he rises thereby to some higher level, he is in a position

to hold out a helping hand to those who have not yet reached even that step on the ladder which he has

gained. In that way he takes part, however humble it may be, in the great divine work of evolution.

He knows that he has arrived at his present position only by a slow process of growth, and so he does not

expect instantaneous attainments of perfection. He sees how inevitable is the great law of cause and

effect, and that when he once grasps the working of that law he can use it intel igently, in regard to mental and moral development, just as in the physical world we can employ for our own assistance those laws of

nature the action of which we have learnt to understand.

Understanding what death is, he knows that there can be no need to fear it or to mourn over it, whether it

comes to himself or to those whom he loves. It has come to them al often before, so there is nothing

unfamiliar about it. He sees death simply as a promotion from a life which is more than half physical to

one which is whol y superior, so for himself he unfeignedly welcomes it; and even when it comes (Page

145) to those whom he loves, he recognizes at once the advantage for them, even though he cannot but

feel a pang of regret that he should be temporarily separated from them so far as the physical world is

concerned. But he knows that the so-cal ed dead are near him stil , and that he has only to cast off for a

time his physical body in sleep in order to stand side by side with them as before.

He sees clearly that the world is one, and that the same divine laws rule the whole of it, whether it be

visible or invisible to physical sight. So he has no feeling of nervousness or strangeness in passing from

one part of it to another, and no feeling of uncertainty as to what he wil find on the other side of the veil.

He knows that in that higher life there opens before him a splendid vista of opportunities both for acquiring fresh knowledge and for doing useful work; that life away from this dense body has a vividness and a

bril iancy to which al earthly enjoyment is as nothing; and so through his clear knowledge and calm

confidence the power of the endless life shines out upon al those around him.

Doubt as to his future is for him impossible, for just as by looking back on the savage he realizes that

which he was in the past, so by looking to the greatest and wisest of mankind he knows what he wil be in

the future. He sees an unbroken chain of development, a ladder of perfection rising steadily before him,

yet with human beings upon every step of it, so that he knows that those steps are possible for him to

climb. It is just because of the unchangeableness of the great law of cause and effect that (Page 146) he

finds himself able to climb that ladder, because, since the law works always in the same way, he can

depend upon it and he can use it, just as he uses the laws of Nature in the physical worlds. His

knowledge of this law brings to him a sense of perspective, and shows him that if something comes to

him, it comes because he has deserved it as a consequence of action which he has committed, of words

which he has spoken, of thought to which he has given harbor in previous days or in earlier lives. He

comprehends that al affliction is of the nature of the payment of a debt, and therefore when he has to

meet with the troubles of life he takes them and uses them as a lesson, because he understands why

they have come and is glad of the opportunity which they give him to pay off something of his obligations.

Again, and yet another way, does he take them as an opportunity, for he sees that there is another side to

them if he meets them in the right way. He spends no time in bearing prospective burdens. When trouble

comes to him he does not aggravate it by foolish repining but sets himself to endure so much of it as is

inevitable, with patience and fortitude. Not that he submits himself to it as a fatalist might, for he takes

adverse circumstances as an incentive to such development as may enable him to transcend them, and

thus out of long-past evil he brings forth a seed of future growth. For in the very act of paying the

outstanding debt he develops qualities of courage and resolution that wil stand him in good stead through

al the ages that are to come.

He is distinguishable from the rest of the world (Page 147) by his perennial cheerfulness, his undaunted

courage under difficulties, and his ready sympathy and helpfulness; yet he is at the same time

emphatical y a man who takes life seriously, who recognizes that there is much for everyone to do in the

world, and that there is no time to waste. He knows with utter certainty that he not only makes his own

destiny but also gravely affects that of others around him, and thus he perceives how weighty a responsibility attends the use of his power.

He knows that thoughts are things and that it is easily possible to do great harm or great good by their

means. He knows that no man liveth to himself, for his every thought acts upon others as wel ; that the

vibrations which he sends forth from his mind and from his mental nature are reproducing themselves in

the minds and the mental natures of other men, so that he is a source either of mental health or of mental

il to al with whom he comes in contact.

This at once imposes upon him a far higher code of social ethics than that which is known to the outer

world, for he knows that he must control not only his acts and his words, but also his thoughts, since they

may produce effects more serious and more far-reaching than their outward expression in the physical

world. He knows that even when a man is not in the least thinking of others, he yet inevitably affects them

for good or evil. In addition to this unconscious action of his thought upon others he also employs it

consciously for good. He sets currents in motion to carry mental help and comfort to many a (Page 148)

friend, and in this way he finds a whole new world of usefulness opening before him.

He ranges himself ever on the side of the higher rather than the lower thought, the nobler rather than the

baser. He deliberately takes the optimistic rather than the pessimistic view of everything, the helpful rather than the cynical, because he knows that to be fundamental y the true view. By looking continual y for the

good in everything that he may endeavour to strengthen it, by striving always to help and never to hinder,

he becomes ever of greater use to his fel ow-men, and is thus in his smal way a co-worker with the

splendid scheme of evolution. He forgets himself utterly and lives but for the sake of others, realizing

himself as a part of that scheme; he also realizes the God within him, and learns to become ever a truer

expression of Him, and thus in fulfil ing God�s wil he is not only blessed himself, but becomes a blessing

to al .

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Table of Contents

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER II

CHAPTER III

CHAPTER IV

CHAPTER V

CHAPTER VI

CHAPTER VII

CHAPTER VIII

CHAPTER IX

CHAPTER X