STAR OF
THE MOTHER OF THE WORLD
Toward
that seven-starred constellation known as the Seven Sisters, the Seven Elders
or the Great Bear, the consciousness of humanity has at all times been directed.
The Scriptures extol this celestial sign and Buddhism’s sacred Trepitaka
dedicates an imposing hymn to it. Ancient Magi and Egyptians carved it upon the
stones. And the black faith of Shaman of the wild taiga paid their obeisance to
it.
To
another of heaven’s miracles, the constellation of Orion, which the wisuom of
astronomers has named the “Three Magi,” were dedicated the ancient temples of
mystery in Central Asia.
As
a pair of iridescent wings, these two constellations are spread out across the
firmament. Between them, darting headlong toward earth, is the Star of the
Morning, resplendent abode of the Mother of the World. By its dominating light,
by its unprecedented approach, it foretells the new era of humanity.
The
dates, recorded eons since, are being fulfilled in the starry runes. The
predictions of the Egyptian Heirophants are being invested with reality before
our eyes. Verily, this is a time of wonder for its witnesses. Likewise
predestined and also descending over humanity is that satellite of the Mother
of the World—Beauty, the living raiment. As a garment of purification must the
sign of Beauty glorify each hearth.
Simplicity—Beauty—Fearlessness:
so it is ordained! Fearlessness is our guide. Beauty is the ray of
comprehension and upliftment. Simplicity is the sesame to the gates of the
coming mystery. And not the menial simplicity of hypocrisy, but the great
simplicity of attainment encircled in the folds of love. Simplicity which
unlocks the most sacred and mysterious gates to him who brings his torch of
sincerity and incessant labor. Not the Beauty of conventionality and deceit,
which harbors the worm of decadence, but that Beauty of the spirit of truth which
annihilates all prejudices.
Beauty
alight with the true freedom and attainment and glorious with the miracle of
flowers and of sounds. Not the Fearlessness of artifice, but the Fearlessness
which knows the unsounded depths of creation and discriminates between
self-confidence in action and the presumption of conceit. Fearlessness which
possesses the sword of courage and which smites down vulgarity in all its forms
even though it be adorned in riches.
The
understanding of these three covenants creates faith and support of the spirit.
For within the last decade everything has been endowed with motion. The most
massed clods have become mobile and the greatest dullards have comprehended
that without simplicity, beauty and fearlessness, no construction of the new
life is conceivable. Nor is the regeneration of religion, politics, science or
the revaluation of labor possible. Without Beauty the closely inscribed pages,
like withered and fallen leaves, will be whirled away by the winds of life and
the wail of spiritual famine shall shake the foundations of the cities,
deserted in their populousness.
We
saw revolutions. We saw crowds. We passed through the mobs of insurrection. But
only there did we behold the banner of peace waving overhead, where beauty was
aglow and by the light of its wondrous power evoked united understanding. We saw
in Russia how the apostles of beauty and the collectors—the true collectors,
not those who were the incidental possessors of some inheritance—were singled
out for honor by the crowd. We saw how the most ardent youth stood in
breathless vigilance, in prayer, under the wings of beauty. And the remains of
religion were revivified there where beauty did not perish and where the shield
of Beauty was most firm.
By
practical experience we can affirm that these words are not the Utopia of a
visionary. No, these are the essence of experience gathered on fields of peace
and of battle. And this manifold experience did not bring disillusion. On the
contrary, it strengthened faith in the destined and in the near, in the
resplendence of the possibilities. Verily, it was experience which constructed
confidence in the new ones who hastened to help in the erection of the Temple
and whose joyous voices resounded over the hill.
The
same experience directed our eyes toward the children, who, untaught, but
already permitted to approach, began to unfold like the flowers of a beautiful
garden. And their thoughts became crystal; and their eyes became enlightened
and their spirits strove to proclaim the message of achievement. And all this
was not in nebulous temples but here upon earth—here where we have forgotten so
much that was beautiful.
It
would seem incredible that people could want to forget the best
possibilities—but this happens oftener than one can imagine. Man lost his key
to the symbols of the Rig-Vedas. Man forgot the meaning of the Kabbalah. Man
mutilated the glorious word of Buddha. Man, with gold, defiled the divine word
of Christ and forgot, forgot, forgot the keys to the finest gates.
Men
lose easily, but how to regain again?
The
path to recovery permits every one to have hope. Why not, if a soldier of
Napoleon discovered the Rosetta Stone in a trench, key to the understanding of
the complete heiroglyphs of Egypt? Now, verily when the last hour strikes,
men—still too few—begin hurriedly to recall the treasures which were theirs
long since, and again the keys begin to clink on the girdle of faith. And
dreams clearly and vividly recall the abandoned but ever-existing beauty.
Only accept! Only receive!
You
shall discern how transformed shall be your inner life; how the spirit shall
quiver in its realization of unbounded possibilities. And how simply beauty
will envelop the temple, the palace and the hearth, where a human heart is
throbbing. Often one does not know how to approach beauty—where are the worthy
chambers, the worthy raiments, for the festival of color and of sound? “We are
so poor,” is the reply. But beware lest you screen yourselves behind the
specter of poverty. For wherever desire is implanted, there shall bloom
decision.
And how shall we
start to build the Museum?
Simply.
Because all must be simple. Any room may be a museum —and if the wish that
conceived it is worthy, it shall grow in the shortest time into its own
building and into a temple. And from far will come the new ones and knock—only
do not outsleep the knocking.
How shall we commence
our collecting?
Again,
simply—and without riches, only with unconquerable desire. We have known many
very poor persons who were very remarkable collectors, and who although limited
by each penny, gathered art collections full of great inner meaning.
How can we publish?
We
know also that great art publications began with almost negligible means. For
instance, such an idealized work as that tremendous publishing project of art
postcards, Saint Eugenie, began with five thousand dollars, and in ten years
afforded hundreds of thousands of profit yearly.
But
the value of this work was not measured by its financial profits. Rather was it
gaged by the quantity of widely-spread art publications which attracted a
multitude of new, young hearts to the path of beauty. The colored post-cards
which were artistically published, and in a definite method penetrated into new
strata of the people and created young enthusiasts. How many new collectors
were born!
And
measuring their approach to new hearts, the publishers sent into the world,
reproductions of the most progressive creations. Thus, through fearlessness, in
the simplicity of clearness, were created new works of beauty.
How can we open
schools and teach?
Also
simply. Let us not expect great buildings or sigh over the primitive conditions
and lack of material. The smallest room —not larger than the cell of Fra Beato
Angelico in Florence—can contain the most valuable possibilities for art. The
smallest assembly of colors will not diminish the artistic substance of
creation. And the poorest canvas may be the receiver of the most sacred image.
If
there comes the realization of the imminent importance of teaching beauty, it
must be begun without delay. One must know that the means will come, if there
be manifest the enduring enthusiasm. Give knowledge and you will receive
possibilities. And the more liberal the giving, the richer the receiving.
Let
us see what Serge Ernst, director of the Hermitage in Petrograd, writes about
the school which was started by private initiative in one room and which later
grew to an annual enrolment of two thousand:
“On a bright May day, the great hall in
Marskaya conveys to the eye a bright festival. What can be lacking! A whole
wall is covered with austere and shining ikons; whole tables are dazzling with
polychrome rows of majolica vases and figures; finally, here are painted
ornaments for the tea table and further off, luxuriantly embroidered in silk
and gold and wool, lie rugs and pillows and towels and writing pads.
Furniture, cozy and ornamented with intricate
handcraft, stands here. And show-cases are filled with lovely trifles. Upon
walls hang the plans for the most various objects of home decoration, beginning
with architectural plans and ending with the plans for the composition of a
porcelain statue.
Architectural measurements and drawings of
the monuments of ancient art are the interesting illustrations from the class
of graphics; on the windows in colorful and brilliant spots are exhibited the
creations of the class in stained glass. Further off, in front of the
spectator, stands a white company of the productions of the class of sculptors,
of the class of drawings of animals; and on the top awaits a whole gallery
filled with paintings in oil and still life.
And all this variety of creation lives, is
vital with full young enthusiasm. All the happy field of art of our day
receives here its due consideration, in close relation with the artistic
questions of the present. And what is finer, what can recommend more highly the
art school, than this precious and rare contact?”
In
these contacts of enthusiasm and in the economy of all precious achievements,
the school work quickly progresses and yearly new forces are gathered as the
most worthy guardians of the future culture of the spirit.
How to recruit these
new ones?
This
is most simple. If over the work shall glow the sign of simplicity, beauty and
fearlessness, new forces will readily assemble. Young heads, long deprived and
long expecting the wonderful miracle, will come. Only, let us not permit these
seekers to pass us by! Only, not to let one of them pass by in the twilight!
And how to approach
beauty ourselves?
This
is the most difficult. We can reproduce paintings; we can make exhibitions; we
can open a studio; but where will the paintings of the exhibitions find an
outlet? To what parts shall the products of the studio penetrate? It is easy to
discourse, but more difficult to admit beauty into life’s household. But while
we ourselves deny entrance to beauty in our life, what value will all these
affirmations possess?
They
shall be meaningless banners at an empty hearth. Admitting beauty into our
home, we must determine the unquestionable rejection of vulgarity and
pompousness, and all which opposes beautiful simplicity. Verily, the hour of
the affirming of beauty in life is come! It came in the travail of the spirits
of the peoples. It came in storm and in the lightning. Came that hour before
the coming of Him Whose steps already are sounding.
Each
man bears “a balance within his breast”; each weighs for himself his karma. And
so now liberally, the living raiment of beauty is offered to all. And each
living rational being, may receive from it a garment, and cast away from him
that ridiculous fear which whispers, “This is not for you.” One must be rid of
that gray fear, mediocrity. Because all is for you if you manifest the wish
from a pure source. But remember, flowers do not blossom on ice. Yet how many
icicles do we strew, benumbing our worthiest striving through menial cowardice.
Some
coward hearts inwardly determine that beauty cannot be reconciled with the gray
dross of our day. But only faint-heartedness has whispered to them, the
faint-heartedness of stagnation. Still among us are those who repeat that
electricity is blinding us; that the telephone is enfeebling our hearing; that
automobiles are not practical for our roads. Just so timorous and ignorant is
the fear of the non-reconciliation of beauty.
Expel
at once from our household this absurd unsounding “no” and transform it, by the
gift of friendship and by the jewel of spirit, into “Yes.” How much turbid
stagnation there is in “No” and how much of openness to attainment in “Yes”!
One has but to pronounce “Yes” and the stone is withdrawn and what yesterday
still seemed unattainable, today comes nearer and within reach. We remember a
touching incident: a little fellow not knowing how to help his dying mother,
wrote a letter as best he could to St. Nicholas, the Miracle Maker. He went to
put it in the letter box, when a “Casual Passer-by” approached to help him
reach it, and perceived the unusual address. And verily the aid of Nicholas the
Miracle Maker came to this poor heart.
Thus
through the work of heaven and earth, consciously and in living practise, will
the raiment of beauty again be enfolded about humanity.
Those
who have met the Teachers in life, know how simple and harmonious and beautiful
They are. The same atmosphere of beauty must pervade all that approaches Their
region. The sparks of Their Flame must penetrate into the lives of those who
await the Soon-Coming! How to meet Them? Only with the worthiest. How to await?
Merging into Beauty. How to embrace and to retain? By being filled with that
Fearlessness bestowed by the consciousness of beauty. How to worship? As in the
presence of beauty which enchants even its enemies.
In
the deep twilight, bright with a glory unequaled, shines the Star of the Mother
of the World. From below, is reborn the wave of a sacred harmony. A Tibetan
ikon painter plays his lay upon a bamboo flute before the unfinished image of
Buddha-Maitreya. By adorning the image with all the symbols of blessed power,
this man, with the long black braid, in his way, brings his utmost gift to Him
Who is Expected. Thus shall we bring beauty to the people: Simply, beautifully,
fearlessly!
Talai-Pho-Brang,
1924.
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