Very few of us accomplish in life
all that we wish. We propose to ourselves to do much that is noble, we have
high aspirations and hopes. We give much thought to these, laying out plans and
building castles in the air. This of course affects our lives and actions to
some extent. In some cases it very largely affects them.
But in the majority there is some
great obstacle to fulfillment; either the conditions of life are unfavorable,
or our duties to others dependent on us require all our energies. It is but a
dream, a mere dream, to too many.
Does it follow however that our
castle building, our hopes and aspirations, are futile?
We cannot answer this question
unless we know something of the true nature of man and of the planes of being
on which he acts. It will be sufficient for our purpose to consider man as a
threefold being, or to view him under three aspects:
1)
The real man, the soul, the essential nature of man,
the experiencer and actor.
2)
The mind or middle nature of man.
3)
The physical body or external nature, including in
this the passions and desires.
We may look upon (2) and (3) as
being planes of manifestation of the soul, or as being vestures in which the
soul is clothed, or as instruments it uses to gain experience.
If we think seriously on the matter
it is not difficult to understand that the physical body with the passions and
desires does not constitute the real man, for we know that it is possible to
train, control, and use these. This implies an actor above or behind the
physical body to whom the latter is an instrument.
It is more difficult to realize that
the mind is also an instrument, and that it is not the mind itself which
controls the body but that the real man stands even back of the mind and uses
it and can train it for greater and greater use as an instrument.
The mind is an instrument by means
of which man may control his lower external nature. We can understand too that
the physical body is a vesture, vehicle, or sheath for the soul or real man,
but it is more difficult to understand that the mind, using the term in a
general sense, is also a sheath or vesture. It is through these mental and
physical vestures that the soul gains experience on lower planes of being.
We use the physical vesture in all
our relations with external nature and in the ordinary actions in everyday
life; generally speaking, we may say that the physical vesture is that which is
used during life on the physical plane. Many people, not stopping to think
about the matter, imagine that all life, i.e., that between birth and
death, is spent on the physical plane.
But is this really so?
We might ask if they ever used their
minds to such an extent that they forgot, for instance, that it was dinner
time, or that they did not hear some one speak to them. Or, we might ask if
they ever dreamed, or where they were when they were fast asleep, not even
dreaming.
If we consider the matter it becomes
clear that a great part of life is not spent on the physical plane, but on some
other plane, and that the soul uses some other vesture or instrument than the
physical body for gaining experience on this plane. This other plane is the
mental plane, the plane of thought, imagination, will, aspiration, and of
ideals. The vesture that the soul uses on this plane we may call the mental
vesture.
Now let us ask ourselves another
question:
What is it that makes life joyful and
happy or hard and miserable?
Is it the possession of external
things, wealth, position, fame, or does it not rather depend on the mental
attitude?
This question does not require any
detailed discussion and we may answer immediately that it is the mental
attitude that colors and changes the whole of life. The reason of this is that
man is essentially a thinking being, who in the present stage of evolution has
reached that point where his most important and peculiar sphere of action is the
mind.
Man has risen above the animal stage
of evolution, in which he was happy and contented with objects of sense and
with mere externals; by becoming man he became a thinker, a dreamer, and, no
longer satisfied with mere animal existence, he questions himself and nature,
seeking to know the riddle of life.
If on the one hand we were mere
animals or on the other had complete control over our animal nature we would
use all the animal functions of our physical bodies according to nature; we
would eat for instance only when hungry — in order simply to satisfy hunger,
and we would be satisfied always with the simplest kind of food.
But we are no longer animals, and
the great majority of us have not yet conquered our animal natures. The two
natures in us, the physical and the mental, get sadly mixed up, and we do not
eat and drink only to satisfy our needs but take an aesthetic pleasure in our
eating and drinking, i.e. the mind enters into the simplest and most
external things of life.
I do not say this is all wrong, but
it is part of the discipline of life to attain to the right proportion in
regard to these two natures.
The subtle world
No action originates on the physical
plane, the seed of all action is on the mental plane; action on the physical
plane is an effect of some cause on the mental plane. But we know that thoughts
do not immediately take effect in action on the physical plane, in fact the
thought energy may remain stored up for years or for a lifetime and never
result in action during the present life.
Because of this and because of
ignorance of the true relation between thought and act the majority of people
have come to consider that, after all, the plane of action, the physical plane,
is the real plane, and the other is a mere illusion; they say it only exists in
thought, in the mind, thus making thought and the mind an illusion. So, too,
they consider the waking life as the only real life.
When they go to sleep and perhaps
dream they know on waking that they have lived through the night because they
are alive today and remember their life of yesterday, but sleeping is not real
life to them, because they do not do anything when they are asleep and the
dreams they have are only dreams; they vanish into thin air as soon as they
awake.
This is no proof however that we do
not really live and gain experience during sleep, it simply is a proof that
such people are not able to coordinate the two states of consciousness, the
waking and the sleeping. It does not prove anything else.
It is not possible here to consider
all the evidence and arguments that during sleep the soul is active on another
plane of consciousness and in a world entirely different from this; not a world
of dream and illusion, but a world of real experience and development.
Our waking life oscillates between
two poles:
a)
physical activity with a minimum of mental activity,
and
b)
a maximum of mental activity, mental abstraction, with
a minimum of physical activity.
Normally, during sleep, the physical
activity is also a minimum, but can we say that the mental activity is a
maximum?
In one sense, yes, but not in the
sense of activity of the merely intellectual and reasoning powers for which the
brain is an instrument.
According to many writers on
Theosophy, ancient and modern, these are only the lower powers of the mind. The
higher powers are very difficult to describe, but some idea may be obtained
from a consideration of the state of pure mental abstraction, sometimes called
"brown study." In such a state the mind ceases to reason, to
cogitate, but passes into what is called contemplation, a state of knowledge of
the attainment of knowledge.
From the standpoint of everyday life
such a state appears to be one of inactivity because the brain is not active,
but it is really a state of higher activity, of finer vibrations, too fine
indeed for the brain in its normal state to respond to.
In the dream state the brain is to
some degree active but generally not under control, the soul having for the
time being partially loosened its hold of the physical body: most dreams are
not due to direct action in the brain but are the result of reflections,
generally very imperfect, from the higher and true thought plane.
In deep, dreamless sleep the soul
loosens its hold still further of the physical organism and may leave it for a
time, although still magnetically connected with it, and hence to some extent
being still influenced by the physical plane.
After death
We can now go a step further. After
death the soul leaves the physical body and the physical plane altogether and —
not considering any intermediate planes — passes into Devachan.
It is impossible to describe states
of consciousness; they must be felt and experienced. But if we try to
understand the relations between those states that we experience in earth-life
we may to some extent infer what the devachanic state is like.
That is, we may make it more real to
us, and in this way attain to a clearer comprehension of the various statements
in regard to Devachan which have been made by theosophical writers and so
accept these statements, not merely on authority, but because of their
reasonableness.
One of the first points to be noted
is that the soul in Devachan is entirely out of the influence of earth-life and
of the physical plane; the soul no longer has a physical vesture or a physical
brain which it may use as an instrument. It is clothed only in a mental vesture
and its plane of consciousness will therefore be a step beyond all those we
have so far considered.
In ordinary and intense thought
activity, in dreaming, and dreamless sleep, the soul is still connected to some
extent with the physical body and therefore liable in varying degree to the
influences of the physical plane. But in Devachan it passes beyond all these,
and, because of its being freed from this lower plane becomes thereby more open
to influences from higher planes.
Devachan is a mental plane, and the
vesture of the soul when in it is a mental vesture. Hence in order to
understand more clearly the nature of Devachan we must study our own minds and
the laws of thought.
The mind
We have called the mind an
instrument of the soul, and like any instrument it may be well or ill-used, it
may be under complete control or be unmanageable. It is very important to
realize that the soul or real man is above the mind and that it has this power
to control it.
The mind has been well compared to a
boat and the soul to the boatman. A good sailor will guide his boat
whithersoever he wishes, but one who does not know how to manage rudder and
sails is at the mercy of every tide and every wind and, drifting hither and
thither, can keep no certain course.
Nearly every thoughtful person
realizes to some extent that the mind is an instrument; yet few fully realize
that it can be completely controlled. Those whose chief object is the
gratification of the senses come to identify themselves with the physical body
and those whose life is centered in the things of the mind often identify
themselves to a greater or less degree with the mind. Entire control of the
mind is impossible so long as there is any identification of the soul with it.
We take hold of physical things with
our hands, i.e., we grasp them physically. We also take hold of things
with our minds and grasp them, metaphysically, with the understanding. It was
held by some of the ancient philosophers that the mind takes on the form of
that to which it is applied and becomes modified thereby, i.e., it becomes
conformed, to a degree depending on the intensity of the thought, to the idea
underlying the object of its attention.
If, therefore, the mind be the
subtile vesture of the soul, its form will correspond in the main to the
general character of the thoughts which occupy it, and will be continually
modified thereby, reacting more slowly on the physical, external vesture until
that also represents and corresponds to the inner character or thought.
The mind may be made to take
conscious hold of a thing, with intent and deliberately, or a thought or idea
may enter and occupy the mind subtilely and almost unnoticed and become firmly
established before we are well aware of its presence.
Every thought is a seed, and once it
has gained entrance to the mind will either begin to grow, or else remain
dormant until favorable conditions shall permit its growth and ripening. If a
bad thought is permitted to enter it will stay as a seed unless immediately
expelled by the conscious thinking of the opposite thought, but if not expelled
it will remain until later it may be aroused into activity by another thought
of kindred nature, and then once again comes the opportunity of expulsion.
So too good thoughts may remain
unconsciously in the mind as seeds ready to give their added strength to new
good thoughts. Whatever thought has been permitted to enter will at some time
present itself either for rejection or to gain further strength. So long
however as our minds are occupied with thoughts which are not allied to one of
these latent seeds of thought and also so long as no awakening suggestion comes
from without the seed will lie dormant.
Now, our actions do not spring from
our occasional thoughts but from our character. We may define character as the
— relatively — permanent mass of thoughts, the involuntary and unconscious bent
of the mind which shows itself throughout the whole life. It is said that when
a man is himself, when he is under no restraint, then his innate character is
most evident.
To some extent character is
expressed externally in the physical form, but could we see the inner form, the
mental vesture, we should find that it exactly represented the character
in every particular. The mental vesture is the exact counterpart, in form, of
the character, and the building up and changing of this vesture goes on step by
step with the building up and changing of character.
But the character is not changed by
a passing thought, it can be changed only by persistent thinking and by the
constant endeavor to express the thought in action. Just as it is with
difficulty that the ordinary child learns to play on a musical instrument or to
draw, every motion requiring a conscious effort of the will; but after long
practice, attention having no longer to be paid to the individual motions, the
hand and the eye become trained and immediately responsive to the mind and
will; so it is with modes of thought and with the practice of ethics.
We may realize, whether
intellectually or intuitionally, that we ought to cultivate a certain habit of
thought or follow a certain line of conduct and yet at the beginning it may be
almost impossible for us to carry this out. It is however a matter of general
experience that by persisting in any certain course of thought or action the
difficulties gradually grow less until conscious effort is no longer needed and
a habit is formed, which becomes a "second nature."
The
realization of our longings in Devachan
But what becomes of the great mass
of thoughts which in any man's life will generally show a tendency in some
particular direction, but which are never persistently and consciously followed
out or cultivated?
What happens in the case of a man
who more or less drifts through life, at least so far as his relation to
his higher nature is concerned?
What also happens in the case of a
man with an intense love of art, or an intense desire to help humanity or to
follow some ideal, but who is unable to carry out his desires or to accomplish
save in very slight degree that which he has set his heart upon, though he may
give his whole life to the work?
Surely in the latter case the life
is not wasted. The mind of the man who drifts is like a field into which all
kinds of seeds, good and bad, flowers and weeds, are blown by the wind, but the
ground of which is not cultivated or tilled. The mind of the other is like a
field the soil of which needs breaking up before the seed can grow. Other parts
of the field may be well tilled and other seeds be grown to flowers and fruit
but in this one corner the field is barren.
In the Bhagavad-Gita occurs
this passage:
-
"Whoso in
consequence of constant meditation on any particular form thinketh upon it when
quitting his mortal shape, even to that doth he go."
This gives us the key-note to the
whole matter, for a man at the moment of death reviews the whole of his past
life and that "particular form" which he "thinketh upon" is
the dominant form of the past life, is the trend and aim — unconscious perhaps —
of all his thoughts and acts. A man is forced to think at the moment of
death that which he thought during life, he has no choice in the matter and
cannot will it otherwise.
According to this philosophy then,
the earth-life strikes the key-note to the life after death, that is, to the
devachanic life. The devachanic state is essentially one for the assimilation
of all those thoughts and aspirations of the preceding state that relate in any
way to the higher nature, and is for the transforming of these into character.
Those thoughts which had been ours
in earth-life and which may have remained little more than dormant seeds, or
which on the other hand we may have tended carefully but yet could never bring
to full perfection — all these will take root and grow in the devachanic state.
They may not take deep root, or grow luxuriantly, for this depends on the intensity
of the thought and the effort exerted in its direction at the moment of death.
But every thought-seed which relates to the soul will there blossom forth.
For the devachanic plane is the
plane of thought, of dream — but remember such dreams are real experiences,
they are not mere dreams or idle visions — and there the soul is clothed
only in the mental vesture, the garment of thought, and is no more hampered and
confined in the physical vesture — it is entirely freed for the time from the
earth plane.
In earth-life we spin the threads of
thought and aspiration which in Devachan are woven into the inner vesture of
the soul; we prepare the bricks and mortar in earth-life and in Devachan these
are fitted into place and used in the edifice of thought which the soul is
building for itself. So we go on spinning and weaving and building, often
undoing what we have done and so having to weave and build again and again
until a perfect vesture without seam, a perfect dwelling-place, is prepared for
the true man, the soul.
One purpose of earth-life is to
express the inner nature in the outer external act; this we cannot help doing,
it is the law of our being, and as said in the Bhagavad-Gita:
-
"All
creatures act according to their natures; what then will restraint effect?"
The purpose of Devachan is to build
up this inner nature — the character. Let us consider again the cases above
mentioned; of the man ever striving to express himself in art or music, or to
reach his ideal in whatever direction it may lie, but who apparently fails
because his external nature and his environments are not suited to the carrying
out of his ideals.
In Devachan when freed entirely from
the limitations of external physical life, the thought has free scope and can
express itself in the thought vesture which responds immediately and
coincidently with the thought. So it is said that man in Devachan achieves to
the full all that he desires.
This must be so. It is not
unreasonable that it should be so, nor is it illusionary. Man simply rises to
the plane of his ideal and has a foretaste of what he will in part some day
accomplish in earth-life. I say he will accomplish it, maybe at first
only in part, but ultimately in its perfection; for he builds this ideal into
his character and nature and will act according to his nature, and if we accept
the doctrine of the perfectibility of man all powers must ultimately be his.
That which may now prevent the full
exercise of his powers in their perfection is the other side of his nature, the
lower nature which wars ever against the higher and according to which man is
also constrained to act until by self-restraint and devotion to the
higher nature he entirely subdues the lower.
In the next earth-life the devotee
who has given his life to music or art will, it is held, come back with the
power to express his ideal in its completeness, all other things being equal.
The philanthropist, unable to carry out his plans for the good of his fellowmen
though devoting all his energies to the work, will come back into conditions
where his energies will find full play.
This is because in Devachan the
thoughts, desires and efforts of the past life have woven themselves into his
character, and become part of his own nature, so that the artist, the musician
or the philanthropist cannot help but express this nature in outward act. But
then comes a test, the test that all who have genius, all who have great
powers, must meet.
Will they use these powers for self
or for others, will ambition find entrance into their hearts, or will each be
able to say: "When the Master reads my heart He shall find it clean
utterly"?
And the man who drifts, who has no
definite purpose in life, who has good thoughts at times and high resolves but
does not persist in them; his Devachan will correspond to his life. His
good thoughts and resolves will blossom and bear fruit and will mould and
transform his inner vesture, but only to the extent of the thought energy and
the endeavor to express them in act during life.
Still his character will be to this
extent modified and strengthened so that in the succeeding life there will be a
greater ability to give them outer expression.
This assimilation and transformation
of thought into character form, in the writer's opinion, the great purpose of
Devachan. For the great majority of people, Devachan is necessary, and if the
above view be a correct one it is not a state of selfishness as has been held
by some, any more than it is a form of selfishness for us to digest our food so
that it may give us strength to continue our work, — it is a necessity in
nature.
The points we have yet to consider
in connection with this subject are the so-called illusion of Devachan and the
possibility of rising above the necessity of Devachan or shortening its period.
Is
Devachan an illusion state?
It is very generally held that
Devachan is mostly a state of illusion and of the imagination and that the soul
is simply surrounded by pictures of its own making. It is said, for instance,
that in Devachan we are not really with our friends or those whom we love but
that we only imagine this to be the case.
Let us consider what constitutes
nearness and recognition. There are the nearness and recognition that are due
to physical sense perception and those that are due to inner perceptions. They
may belong to the outer or the inner planes of being.
Usually we say we are near another
when we can see, hear and touch that other. But our physical senses reveal to
us only the external physical man, and a little thought will show that
something else is needed to constitute nearness and recognition in any true
sense.
Take the case of one we have loved
becoming insane, or simply falling asleep or being absorbed in a train of
thought in which we have no part. We may see, hear and touch but because of the
absence of soul-response are not in any true sense near that one.
In normal cases, however, we infer
from the outward manifestations what the inner nature may be, but unfortunately
the latter is too often concealed by the former instead of shining through it.
We live so much on the outer plane,
and place so much confidence in our sense perceptions that the inner
perceptions have become dull, and we persuade ourselves into believing that
what we see, hear and touch is the real man. We known inwardly that the real
man is not to be known in this way, but yet, to a very large extent, we govern
our lives according to outward seemings instead of making them conform to inner
verities.
A very slight consideration forces
us to a belief in the illusory nature of physical, sensuous life, but it needs
a strong purpose to turn away from it and make it wholly subservient to the
higher life. Instead of this we cling to it as the real life and the thought of
physical separation and physical death is the one we shrink from the most.
If we hold to the idea that sensuous
life is the true one then it is inevitable that Devachan will appear as a state
of illusion, but once we begin to realize the inner life then it becomes
possible to take a new view of the life after death.
All true love and friendship have
their roots in the inner planes and belong, in the measure that they are true,
to the soul and to the inner nature. It is however possible for the strongest
ties of love and friendship to exist on the soul plane without being manifested
in this or any earth life.
It is also possible where there is
this inner friendship between two persons for it to be obscured in the case of
one but not in that of the other. It depends upon the person's Karma and his
will whether the personal life is able to faithfully reflect and work harmoniously
with the inner life. This view affords an explanation of cases in which there
is the desire for love and friendship on one side only, which is not
reciprocated.
Ultimately we are all linked
together by the same ties which have their basis in the essential unity and
divinity of man. But we do not at all attain to the full realization of this,
though it is not ultimately unattainable; we only realize it in part and too
often only as a theory or as a philosophical proposition.
All that we are capable of, so long
as we do not rise above this sphere of limitation, is to experience in some
small degree one or other of the varied manifestations of the essential unity.
We fail to see the pure white light and catch only a faint glimmer of one or
other of the prismatic rays into which it is divided on this plane of illusion.
Both the mental vesture and the physical vesture act as the prisms which
separate the colored rays one from another, and according to the nature of the
prisms will the rays be transmitted more or less faithfully or some perhaps not
transmitted at all.
It is evident therefore that if we
place our reliance on the physical senses for the discovery of truth we lay
ourselves open to error and delusion. In earth life we use both the physical
and the mental prisms — though we rarely use either in the best way possible —
and these are the instruments through which shines the light of our own souls,
and through which also we perceive the light which shines through the mental
and physical vestures of others.
In Devachan we use only the mental
vesture or prism and because of its being freed from all connection with the
physical vesture it transmits more easily and faithfully the rays of light
which have their source in the soul. There may still be barriers to the passage
of the light owing to one's development and Karma but the barriers of merely
personal life are removed.
We do not necessarily experience in
Devachan that which the personality desires but only to the extent that
the desires of the personality are in conformity with those of the soul. We
touch more nearly the soul plane and all the things which belong only to the
personal life are left behind.
If many of those barriers which
prevent us from knowing our true relations to others are in Devachan broken
down, we cannot call it an illusion. On earth we interchange with those whom we
love the vibrations of sight, hearing and touch and also of thought, but it is
only the last named that make true recognition and nearness possible; it is the
others, the sense vibrations, that deceive and mislead us.
In Devachan these sense vibrations
do not exist, but the higher vibrations and the perceptions that belong thereto
have fuller scope and wider range, and we enter into a realm of truer
recognition and knowledge.
There is nothing really lost by our
leaving behind the physical sense perceptions, for the soul has its own powers
of sight which far transcend anything that can be experienced on the physical
plane. Whatever true love and recognition there may have been on earth, whether
between friend and friend, lover and loved one, mother and child, that love and
recognition will be increased a hundredfold in Devachan.
Our conceptions of Devachan and of
this life would be much clearer if we could view these as related to
consciousness and not to place, time, and matter. We may, if we will, rise to
the Devachanic plane while on earth and may even rise above the necessity of a
Devachan between earth lives.
The duration in Devachan
To the extent that we assimilate the
experiences of our lives and put into action our ideals and resolves, to that
extent do we shorten the Devachanic period. In the case of the mass of men,
their stay in Devachan is of such long duration because they do not put into
practice their ideals or live according to inner convictions.
We dream so much that is noble and
high and pure but are not able to put it into practice. No doubt external
conditions have much to do with this but the will is a much more important
factor. The fact is that we do not use our wills and have not the courage to
live according to the light of our inner nature.
We know we are tied down by
conventionality but lack the will and the courage to break loose from it. Yet
the will is ours if we but knew it and would use it. The mere desire to escape
Devachan is not enough to cause us to reincarnate immediately. The Devachanic
state is a necessity, the assimilation of experiences and the building up of
character are essentials to progress, and also life on the soul plane is
necessary.
We cannot escape from these if we
are to progress along the line of evolution; but nature gives us a choice and a
power in the matter. It is not a choice to escape Devachan but either to have
our Devachan while on earth or after earth life. It is only in regard to those
who know of this power but refuse to exercise it by not living a spiritual life
and not making their Devachan here that we can speak of the Devachan after
earth life as selfish.
For the ordinary man Devachan is not
a selfish but a necessary state. Yet we have little need to concern ourselves
with shortening the period of or escaping Devachan if we but act up to the
highest within us. Our part is to do our duty now, to live the highest life
possible; Nature and the Law take care of the rest, and they always give to
each the greatest opportunity that is possible and place each in those
conditions which are most favorable to progress.
(The
Path – August, September,
October 1895)
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