(Lecture delivered February 9, 1930)
I have quite a number of questions before me, and I am going to answer them in the order in which I have received them, with the exception of one question which arrived this morning from a friend in Los Angeles who will be here this afternoon, and he asked that this question, which is about a little child two years old, be answered today. I will try to do so. Personally I am a bachelor. I have had no personal experience in the raising of children; but I know human nature. I know what men and women are because I know something of myself; and if you know yourselves — know your own faculties and powers, and something of what is within you — then really you have a key by which to know all other human beings, and, indeed, all things. For you are an inseparable part, each individual of you, of the boundless universe in which you live and move and have your being; and therefore, through your inner self or spiritual nature, you have a road reaching to the very heart of the universe; and therefore all things are open to you, if you travel that road leading ever more withinwards.
So even I, a crusty bachelor, can answer a question about a little child. I was once a little child myself; so were you all once little children; and, do you know, I sometimes think that we grown-ups are but little children in many ways. The little ones are not specifically or radically different from us. We merely have brought out more of what is within us than the little child has; and in treating a little child I think that it is our duty to remember these beautiful theosophical precepts and principles, and to treat a little child as a growing soul, as a human blossom just come into this world, ready to begin its pathway through this particular phase of its long evolutionary journey, this particular schoolroom of life. The child needs help.
Already, I see, I am answering the question about a little child, but out of place; and I will now turn to the other questions before I answer in full this question about the little child.
The first question, then, is:
"Can you tell us something about the special methods used in the Raja-Yoga system of education?"
Of course I can. The Raja-Yoga system of education is a system — not founded, not thought out, not originated, but — introduced by Katherine Tingley, my great-hearted predecessor, whose portrait you see in the Temple this afternoon. The title Raja-Yoga is Sanskrit. It means "royal union." In itself it is but a term, and yet the idea behind this term is that there is, in the human being, at the very core of the core of him, as the heart of the heart of him, a divine entity, a living god, the highest part of his being; and that an appeal can be made to this inner glory at any time and in any place, through the ears of the adult, but likewise, although with more care and with a tenderer love perhaps, through the ears and eyes of a little child.
The idea, then, back of the Raja-Yoga system of education is to bring out this inner, divine splendor, as much as may be: not to develop it, not to stimulate it, for it is always there in its supernal glory, filling us full, even us imperfect creatures, with all that we have that is noble and fine, splendid and gracious, and kind; but to part the veils of the lower selfhood so that this inner glory may shine forth through us.
As you may know, the only difference between the great man and the man who is not great is that in the former this inner splendor, this inner glory, has had some opportunity to come into manifestation in his life. Whereas in the inferior man, this inner splendor has not been able so fully to express its transcendent powers. All inspiration, all that tends to ennoble humanity, all genius, all the streams of illuminating thought — whence spring they forth? From within.
There, then, is the fundamental idea back of the Raja-Yoga system of education: to cooperate with natural laws so that the little child will have less to struggle against, so that it shall be guided with a helping hand, with a kindly and sympathetic understanding — in brief, so that it shall be guided by an understanding heart. That is what our teachers strive to do, and the success that we have had in certain cases has been remarkable.
But not all children are equal. We cannot take impossible human material, obviously, and produce a god walking on earth; but even with very refractory human material we can soften things, we can lead forth the inner splendor, at least to some degree, because our theosophical principles of thought and action are based on the laws springing forth from nature's heart. There is the keynote — nothing unnatural, nothing weird, nothing uncanny; but love, understanding, and the wise philosophy of the ancient wisdom-religion of mankind today called theosophy.
That is all, and it is simple, as you see. Those are the ideals behind the Raja-Yoga system of education which we are striving so earnestly to put into practice; and the methods that we follow are based wholly upon those ideals.
Some people perhaps might object to the Sanskrit title, and say: Why don't you choose a term more easily understandable, some English term, for instance? Why go to the far Orient and pick out a word that inevitably will make people misunderstand you in the Occident, and therefore cause them to confuse your school and your efforts with those of certain schools of Oriental yoga? Because wisdom dictated this choice. Because these words describe exactly, when you understand them (and they are worth understanding), just what we are striving to do. Our school attempts to inculcate not merely ethical principles of the loftiest type, but to teach the child to respect itself, to teach it self-control; we endeavor to elucidate the child's own innate powers, its own inherent faculties, so that it shall grow up a developed and free man.
In using the word "free," I do not refer to politics at all. I refer to something loftier and more sublime by far: I refer to matters of the spirit and of the mind and of the heart, which, when developed, make a man free, inwardly free — a truly free man. You know, of course, just what I mean.
That is our aim, that is our ideal; that is what we are striving for.
I might add this, that in the Orient there have been from immemorial time (oh, the immortal gods only know how many ages!) four paths, as they are called, which the four classes or types of men, according to this ancient theory of Hindustan, follow. The first is karma-marga, the path of action, which I suppose our psalm-singing Occidentals would translate as "salvation by works," with the idea, implicit in theory, whether right or wrong, that action alone is sufficient for progress.
The second path is called bhakti-marga. Bhakti is a word meaning "affection," "trust," "faith." These two paths, or these two systems of improving the heart and mind of men, are also more or less known in the Occident, and have been respectively called salvation by works, and salvation by faith. But these two paths are not the highest.
The third path is called raja-yoga-marga, the path of raja-yoga, the system of raja-yoga: the path which the striving entity follows in order to attain freedom and light: to attain that real union with the self within by means of self-devised efforts — what Katherine Tingley has called "self-directed evolution."
And the fourth path, considered to be for the choicest of men, was called jnana-marga, the wisdom-path: the path of the great seers and sages, and, generally speaking, of the noblest portion of mankind.
These four pathways correspond very accurately with the four grades, social and political, of the early civilizations of Hindustan in the Vedic period: the sudra, the agriculturist; the vaisya, the commercial man; the kshattriya, the administrator, the warrior, the king, the prince, in short, the world of officialdom, etc.; and fourth, the brahmana, the philosopher, the sage.
Question 2: "What distinguishes the Theosophical University from other universities?"
This is an interesting question. Raja-yoga principles run throughout the work done, the ideals held, and the objects strived for in Theosophical University as they do in the Raja-Yoga Academy and School; but in the University something is aimed at still higher and more appropriate for adults. We have therein our intellectual courses of study, of course, because we seek improvement along all lines, we seek freedom of thought and of the human spirit, as is done in the best of Occidental universities; but we seek something higher. We teach — as a fundamental postulate, not as a religious dogma, for we have no dogmas in The Theosophical Society, but as a fundamental postulate of clear thinking — that the source whence spring forth all the things that make men great (and there have been great men) is within: your own inner god, the living being within you, the fountain of genius and inspiration in your heart, meaning, by "heart," not the physical organ, but the core of you, the loftiest, highest fountain of your being. Our whole work is founded on that sublime thought.
You may ask: Are there not religious schools, sectarian schools, which are also founded upon religious principles? Of course there are. But theosophists have no dogmas either in our philosophy or in our Society. You don't have to believe a thing in The Theosophical Society unless your conscience tells you that it is truth. You don't have to accept any dogma when you apply for membership. The only prerequisite for joining The Theosophical Society is a sincere belief in universal brotherhood.
So, you see, Theosophical University is founded upon the same principles upon which were grounded the sublime Mystery schools of the past, of whatever country and of whatever race of men: the same fundamental ideas, the same fundamental principles of thought. Once that a man realizes what is within him, or perhaps more accurately, realizes what he is in his inner being — that divinity is at the core of each human being — then he begins to sense and to cognize his oneness with universal nature; and whether he will or whether he nil, he feels himself to be an instinctive mystic.
On Sunday after Sunday from this platform, I recur to the thought of this essential divinity within the human being because it is the very foundation stone of all ethics, of all religion, of all philosophy; and, I venture to say, of all true science. This inner divinity is the cause and source of human genius and inspiration; and this divinity within finds its source in the almighty love which holds the universe true and steady in its courses. Love is the very cement of the Universe, the power binding all things together; and when a man who now is a free man feels this almighty force stirring in his being, then there is an inner transfiguration of him. Indeed he can increase his receptivity of the divine powers in his inmost core so greatly that, I tell you in all solemnity and in all earnestness, his very body will shine with the outpouring of the inner light. The old records of the seers and sages of the past are true.
Question 3: "I have heard that a real Raja-Yoga is a rare product. What was meant by this?"
I might say that of course the proper term to use for a student of raja-yoga is raja-yogi, but we don't use this term. We simply say "a raja-yoga." We do not use the other term because it is so easily confused with Oriental yogis and so-called swamis and fakirs — the modern itinerant representatives of the ancient philosophies and religions of archaic date.
But why is a spiritual genius, or why is a great seer and sage, a human phenomenon? Because such men are the fine flowers of the human race. Were every man a great sage and seer, a Christ, a Buddha, then indeed real raja-yoga students — the true ones —would not be rare products, but everyone would be such. It is all a question of evolution. Give us splendid material — we will produce splendid results; give us poor material and at least we can better it, better it immensely; but you cannot work miracles (in which we theosophists do not believe).
Question 4: "What is the difference between your Theosophical Society and other Theosophical Societies, and what is your attitude towards members of these other societies?"
This question is easily answered. I will not, however, point to the differences, but will merely remark that a tree is known by its fruits. Instead, I want to emphasize the points of union, the points of contact. I love to notice friendliness and kindliness in human hearts, not diversity of opinion, not unkindliness, not criticism.
We adhere strictly to the wisdom-religion of the ancients. We have not wandered therefrom a hair's breadth. That is our sublime ideal which we follow truly, because sincerely. However much as human beings we may fail, we try; we are sincere. The members of other Theosophical Societies I doubt not try to do the same.
But I can tell you this, friends, that in The Theosophical Society the stream of illumination, of inspiration, originating in the Lodge of the great Masters of Wisdom and Compassion, flows as ever today, strong and true. The link is unbroken; and he who desires to drink at this Pierian fount may if he will. We do not ask members of other Theosophical Societies to resign their fellowship in these other societies. We simply say: "Our doors are open. We extend to you the glad hand of fraternal goodwill. Come; come in; drink; prove to yourself that what we say is true."
I want to emphasize the points of union, not the points of difference — those unfortunate and unhappy differences of opinion which in the past have caused the Theosophical Movement to be separated into a number of different branches, societies. I want to gather under the wing of the one protecting spiritual light all true hearts. That is what I live for. I am true to my word and I am willing to take other men as true to their word also.
This does not mean that we abandon our views, our Society, our pledge, nor that we shall wander one hair's breadth from the wisdom-religion of antiquity which H. P. Blavatsky brought anew to the Western world. Oh no! That is not the idea. We simply say: "Our doors are open. We extend to you a cordial welcome."
I have no word of criticism at all. I simply point out one fact: a tree is known by its fruits. If we have erred in the past, we shall remedy our errors; and if these other Theosophical Societies have erred in the past, let them come to us, to the common theosophical banner of truth, light, and freedom, and work with us. Never mind the errors; never mind the diversities and differences of opinion. Learn to forgive; learn to love. Love and forgive: these are the watchwords of the new theosophical era which is opening.
And I make a definite promise to him who comes with a clean heart and an eager intellect: he shall receive the very waters of truth in proportion to his capacity to drink thereof. We should be wretched failures, we fellows of The Theosophical Society, if we did not practice what we preach.
We are so convinced by experience of the truth and regularity of our own standing that we open wide the doors. The test of all who come will take place in time, not by anything that I as Leader of The Theosophical Society shall ever do, but through the workings of the laws of the universe; for if anyone, after joining, does evil, it will find him out; if he be false he lays snares for his own feet.
Therefore our attitude towards the associates of other Theosophical Societies is, as said, one of kindly brotherhood and fraternal good feeling. They have their problems; we have ours; and my hope is to gather under the theosophical banner of The Theosophical Society, on our broad platform of universal brotherhood and under the aegis of the constitution of our Society, every true theosophist in the world. I say to them all: "Here is my hand. Come!" That is our attitude.
In conclusion, you may ask: Would it not be better, however, if every theosophist who joined The Theosophical Society resigned his fellowship in other Theosophical Societies? I will tell you truthfully what I think: it would be better, and for one reason only, that thus his energies would not be dissipated by a diversity and variety of interests. Spiritual training, intellectual understanding, run in one single stream, and rather than dissipate one's forces, it is better to concentrate them in the noblest effort that human being ever tried: self-conquest, which ultimately will bring out the inner glory.
Question 5: "What religious teachings are given to the children in the Raja-Yoga School?"
If this question refers to dogmas, sectarian teachings, then we say: None. But if religious teachings means the great fundamental principles which stir the human heart to right action, to live cleanly and truly, to aspire to the best — these we teach. These principles are the cream of the ethics of the world — but no dogmas are taught, nothing that tends to cripple the child's mind. He learns to think for himself, and to control himself; and if he does not, he is a failure. But we do our best.
Question 6: "In the world we hear much about intellectual faculties. I hear theosophists speaking a great deal about the 'doctrine of the heart' and 'soul-wisdom.' Do the heart and the soul think?"
This question is a very understandable one, but it arises, I think, out of a misunderstanding of these two terms: soul-wisdom, and the doctrine of the heart. These are Oriental terms, also used by some of the Greeks in ancient times. They refer not to the physical heart but, as I believe I have before told you this afternoon, to the core of things, to the heart of you, to the central point of consciousness, the inner fountain of being. That is what we mean by the doctrine of the heart, in a general way.
But it also has the meaning of the body of more mystical, more profound, and more definite teaching which theosophists classify under the head of esoteric teachings, because they are hid from view, as the heart in the body is, and also because they form the core of the entire theosophical philosophy. Therefore are these teachings collectively called the heart-doctrine.
We have its contrast in what theosophists call the "doctrine of the eye" — that which the eye sees: the external forms of religion, ritual, ceremonies, formal observances. These theosophists do not have. We do not say, however, that they are wholly bad. We simply say that we have them not. The unfortunate part about them is — these forms and rituals — that they distract the mind away from the essential realities, away from the heart-doctrine or the core of religion. We try to show men what and who they are; we try to show men what is within them, the unspeakable glory of the divinity within, the living god in the core of the core of each one of you. This teaching requires no rituals, no ceremonials, no formal observances.
Oh, the relief, the freedom, the sense of intellectual expansion and spiritual growth, when once you feel stirring within yourself this ineffable mystery which we call the inner god, the immanent Christos, the Buddha within! Every one of you is an incarnate divinity, a spark of the Central Fire of the Universe, because you are an inseparable portion of the universe, each one of you. You cannot leave that universe; you are in it; you are an inseparable part of it.
Therefore, everything that is in the universe is in each one of you, active or inactive as the case may be. The more evolved man has evolved forth more largely the inner splendor. That is also what we mean by soul-wisdom and the doctrine of the heart.
I now take up the question about the child two years of age that I spoke of in the beginning of my talk to you this afternoon. Here it is:
"What method of correction should be applied when a child, two years of age, grasps playthings from his baby sister, and the mother takes some treasured article from him as an object lesson; but the child, rather than yield the object taken, will give up his other most treasured possessions?"
How would you deal with a child like that? The case is quite a common one, and I see nothing unusual about it. Children, in their way, are very alert. They sense very quickly whether their teachers, parents, guardians — those in charge — know how to treat them, and they react accordingly. Do you think that because a child is acquisitive, because it grasps at things that do not belong to it, it is going to help the child to turn away from its fault if you also grasp at something that the child loves and take it away from him? I do not, because the child will conceive the action to be a mere declaration of what it itself does.
On the other hand, in the way in which you train a little child — that is the way in which he will grow. In the way you train a sapling, thus will grow the tree. It is a heavy responsibility, this bringing up of a little child.
It seems to me, in answer to this question, that two main things are required in the parent or the guardian or the teacher: inflexible firmness which no tears nor screaming will change, and great gentleness. If this child were mine, at every instant where I saw it grasp at things belonging to others, I should interpose, and gently but firmly restore the thing that was grasped at to its owner, and should do this regularly. Finally the child will learn; it will begin to wonder at your action; then it will begin to think; finally it will copy what it sees its parent or guardian do, because children are very imitative.
However, when the child grows to be a little older, then watch yourself, for if there is one thing that a child is, it is imitative; and if it sees papa take the paper or something else from mama's hand, and begin to read it, do you think that it will ever forget that object lesson? You have taught it a lesson to do likewise. Or perhaps it is mama in this case who is at fault, and takes something from father; and the child will imitate that action.
Firmness, inflexible firmness, is required; and in this way you discipline your child. Correct it, but never coarsely or brutally. Treat a child brutally, and it will grow up to be a brute. You can form a child in very large measure to be what it finally becomes; and if you want it to be a weakling, then treat it weakly. If you want it to be strong, then inculcate lessons of firmness, of right, of cleanliness, during the plastic period of childhood; and that child will live to bless you.
I marvel sometimes that men and women do as well as they do as adults, when I see how mothers and fathers so often treat their children! Indulgence follows upon indulgence; a whimper is gratified, and then the next whimper of the child is louder than the first. It is again gratified, and then, instead of a whimper, you will one day be greeted with a scream. It is again gratified in order to have peace in the household. Then the next step is that some day you will be greeted with a yell; and the child is again gratified in order to have peace in the house. Then finally comes a spasm of hysteria! All this could have been, and should have been, prevented in the beginning of the training.
Don't think that a child does not think. It does think in its own way. Just throw yourself back in thought as far as you can to your own childhood. I do not say that the child two years old would reason, after the fashion of infantile reasoning, in the manner according to which a child of five would reason, nor after the manner in which a boy or girl of ten or fifteen would reason. But don't deceive yourselves. A child feels and thinks in its own way almost from the very earliest years of babyhood, and this is the exact reason why you can train it. If it did not think, and had no feeling, it would be an unconscious lump of flesh.
Therefore use discipline, but no harshness — the discipline of firmness, and of clairvoyant love when you train your child. Look ahead into its future.
"Emerson says: 'It is the finite that suffers, the infinite lies in smiling repose.' Does this mean that the infinite smiles at suffering?"
I cannot imagine a smiling infinite. Emerson had drunken of the Eastern wisdom as it had filtered through the English translations which he had read; and therefore much of Emerson's thought is akin to the theosophical thought. But I am pretty certain that here is a little point where Emerson slipped in language, because to talk of a smiling infinite is, at the very best, a paradoxical way of speaking. But Emerson's meaning is clear. The infinite is utter peace, all-embracing love. It is no person, it is not even conscious. It is not even unconscious. These words signify human attributes. It is beyond consciousness, just as it is beyond unconsciousness. To put it in another way: it is consciousness to the nth degree, cosmic consciousness.
Would you have the infinite think and feel and have the consciousness of a man, or of a god, or of a super-god? What kind of an infinite is it which has finite attributes? Because all these — man, god, super-god, and you may ascend the scale or ladder of life as high as you like — are all finite by contrast with boundless, frontierless, infinitude: without beginning, without end, whether inwards, whether outwards.
It is the finite which suffers. It is the finite which loves. It is the finite which does these, because it learns. It is learning, growing — no matter how small it may be, no matter how great, insect and god, super-god and atom of earth — all are learning and growing, therefore passing through stages of happiness and bliss, and of suffering and pain.
And don't mistake the matter. What we men in our ignorance call suffering and pain are better teachers than are happiness and smug contentment. The latter is almost spiritually suicidal — to be so smugly content with yourself and what you are that you sleep. But nature will not have it thus always: finally there comes the karmic impulse, the karmic stimulus, and then you suffer a little; but in doing so you awaken and begin to grow. Bless the karmic stimulus; be not afraid of it. Look to the essential divinity within. Remember that everything that happens is transient, and that you can learn from everything, and in learning you will grow — grow great, and from greatness pass to a larger sphere of greatness.
Everything that is is an opportunity to the percipient eye and the understanding heart to learn, which means to grow; and I will tell you in this connection a little secret. There is pleasure in pain, so much so that when this curious phenomenon manifests in an ordinary man, the physicians give a name to it, referring to a person who deliberately inflicts pain upon himself or others in order to derive pleasure from it. It is a degenerate act, but it manifests the truth of what I have said; and when you realize that suffering and pain are two of the means by which we grow, then comes peace to the heart and rest to the mind.
What is it that makes the majestic oak such as it is? Is it the gentle zephyr and the soft-pattering rain? The oak might be weak and yielding as a willow to the blast if that were the truth. No, the tempest and the storm have their way with the oak, and the oak reacts in robustness and strength; battling the storm and tempest it grows strong.
Human beings learn far more quickly than does the so-called insensate plant. There is nothing that learns so quickly and easily as does the human heart. Therefore shrink not from suffering and pain. Remember that the human heart and the human mind must be tried in the fire, even as gold is purified in the cleansing flame.
These are facts. Therefore, when pain and suffering come upon you, remember these truths. Stand up! Be a man! Face the storm; and before you know it, you will see the blue sky ahead, and success and prosperity, because you have acted like a man. You have passed through the test, and it has made you stronger.
"How do you account for the fact that genius is often accompanied by a lack of self-control? For instance, the French poet Alfred de Musset wrote his best works when intoxicated; the Italian musician Donizetti was said to be unable to receive inspiration for his compositions except when drinking cup after cup of black coffee; Coleridge wrote his immortal works when under the influence of opium — or so I have read — and many other instances of this could be mentioned."
I will tell you why genius is so often accompanied by a lack of self-control. Because genius is unsymmetrical evolution, unsymmetrical development, one-sided. This unsymmetrical development is usually reflected in the human body, for the human soul molds the body in which it lives. But do not mistake genius for spiritual grandeur. Genius is, as theosophists say, the karmic fruitage of intense efforts in other lives along one line, and it manifests as cause and effect. In life after life the instinct has been to concentrate on one line of thought and action only. After a while such a man becomes a master on that line as compared with his fellows, and they say: Behold, a genius. Yes, but an unsymmetrically developed being. He is one-sided, he is both weak and strong. To use the old English joke, it is like the curate's egg at the morning meal: "A most excellent egg, sir — in spots!"
Whereas real growth, steady development of all parts of the inner being of man, such as the Raja-Yoga system of education tries to bring about — symmetrical growth, a harmonious development — finally will bring forth the sage and seer, the manifested Christ, the Buddha, who is a genius in every line because fully and wholly and completely a man — spiritually, intellectually, psychically, astrally, vitally, physically — manifesting and expressing in more or less perfect measure the powers and faculties of the immortal god within.
"The following question is one which I have often puzzled over; can you please enlighten me? Which is the more highly evolved — the man or woman who is sensitive to beauty (whether in nature, in music, art, poetry, or any other form) even though his character may be unbalanced to a degree; or the steady plodder, who is good-hearted and does his duty, but sees nothing but the plain outer facts of everyday life about him?"
Why suppose, friends, that either the one or the other of the two cases suggested in the question is the more evolved? Either might be the more evolved; but as it so happens, the lover of beauty is passing through that especial phase of his evolutionary growth; and the other, the steady, good-hearted plodder, is likewise passing through that phase of his evolutionary growth; but the reincarnating ego passes from life to life to life to life, learning each time lessons appropriate to the respective lives, and thus growing stronger and wiser and better, and manifesting more fully the transcendent powers in the core of its being.
Therefore, either of the two cases suggested might be the more evolved. Of course the sense of beauty is, in itself, a beautiful thing. It shows that there is an inner harmony of a certain kind. All geniuses are keenly alive to beauty, but only on one side of their being. They do not see the larger and more supernal beauty which comes from a symmetrical development.
The man who is a genius and sees beauty in sculpture or poetry or music, for instance, and follows these, and produces masterpieces along one of these lines, may be the very man who will commit some vile and ugly action; but if his heart were fully attuned to beauty he could not do so, for what men call evildoing is vile, it is unsymmetrical, it is unclean, it is offensive, it is ugly. No man who has the full sense of beauty in his heart guiding his footsteps through life will ever do ugly acts.
Here is an odd question:
"'He that is greatest among you, let him be servant.' Why is there such a mad rush for servant positions?"
It seems to me that this question answers itself, because men want to be great, or to be thought great, before they truly are great. I suppose that this is the answer. But let me add just one thought to what I have said. I don't like to condemn a man because he aspires high. I rather admire him for it. It is true that a man who wants to be a king when he has no kingly character would probably make a fool of himself on the throne; but nevertheless he has the hunger for betterment within himself: he wants to be, to become, to grow. He sees the higher man, socially speaking or politically speaking, and the greater chances that that man has to live a free man's life and to do good, and he wants to go and do likewise.
So there is another side to it, do you see?
I will close our study this afternoon by reading the following: It is a beautiful thing. I don't know where it comes from. The question is prefaced with a long preamble, and the question itself contains only eight words. Here, then, is the preamble:
THE PEACE OF GOD
Gather up in one bouquet as thou wouldst gather roses rare, the loves of all the creatures of all worlds, of man, of animal, of plant, of whirling planet, sun, and nebula — the love that rises as perfume to the skies. Add to these all shades, and combinations of all shades, that light hath flashed to color. Then bind them with the force of every note and tone which ever gushed from throat of man, and bird, and beast, in song and praise; the chords of that sweet song the morning-stars have sung since dawn of life: the rustle of the winds, the moaning of the waves; and if thou hast no name for such a marvel, thou mayest call it God.
Then, if thou canst see and know the spirit of those loves, those rays of color, perfumes, notes, and chords, and feel it fold thee close when one short day of time is closed as, at the setting of the sun, the mother folds her little one and hushes it to sleep and only lays herself to rest when the great Bird of Life hath folded close its wings: then and only then, shalt thou — the offspring of that God — feel and know the PEACE of God. (Excerpt from The Mountain Top)
"Question: Does the above concept conflict with theosophical teachings?"
In spirit there is no conflict. In form of expression, theosophists would probably differ. The ideas imbodied in this preamble and question are beautiful, however. The kindliness of thought and the loftiness of inspiration behind it would strike a responsive chord, I am sure, in every theosophical heart. But why ascribe all things that are good and beautiful to "God"? Why make yourself a mental and spiritual idol? Be free! Remember that you yourself are a god, a spark of the universal life, inseparable in your own inmost being from that universal life, and that within you is a living Christ, an awakened Buddha.
Why look without, except to see the glory and splendor in other things like unto you? Look within. Find peace, happiness, wisdom, inspiration, and love, within! See and understand the great beauty and love in your inmost parts, and express that almighty love to all that lives.
Then, following this pathway to your own inner god, you will reach all the mysteries and wonders of boundless infinitude through infinite time; and such happiness and peace and bliss and beauty and love and inspiration will fill your whole being that every breath will be a blessing, and every thought a sublime inspiration.
O men, be yourselves! Take your spiritual heritage. Awake! Be the god which you are in the core of the core of your being. Ye are gods. Try to realize it!