Theos-Talk Archives (March 2001 Message tt00120)

Tuesday, March 20, 2001 Spring Equinox


Dear Friends:

This curious story is reprinted from a group of such stories
published originally by M. Wm. Q. Judge in his magazine THE PATH.
They were reprinted in the ULT edition of LETTERS THAT HAVE
HELPED ME [ pp. 207 -- 248 ] in 1946 (50 years after Mr. Judge's
death in 1896).



THE WANDERING EYE



By Bryan Kinnavan (W. Q. Judge)



This is not a tale in which I fable a mythical and impossible
monster such as the Head of Rahu, which the common people of
India believe swallows the moon at every eclipse. Rahu is but a
tale that for the vulgar embodies the fact that the shadow of the
earth eats up the white disk, but I tell you of a veritable human
eye; a wanderer, a seeker, a pleader; an eye that searched you
out and held you, like the bird fascinated by the serpent, while
it sought within your nature for what it never found. Such an
eye as this is sometimes spoken of now by various people, but
they see it on the psychic plane, in the astral light, and it is
not to be seen or felt in the light of day moving about like
other objects.

This wandering eye I write of was always on the strange but
sacred Island where so many things took place long ages ago. Ah!
yes, it is still the sacred Island, now obscured and its power
overthrown--some think forever. But its real power will be
spiritual and though the minds of men today know not the spirit,
caring only for temporal glory, the old virtue of the Island will
once again return. What weird and ghostly shapes still flit
around her shores; what strange. Low, level whisperings sweep
across her mountains; how at the evening's edge just parted from
the day, her fairies suddenly remembering their human rulers--
now sunk to men who partly fear them--gather for a moment about
the spots where mystery is buried, and then sighing speed away.
It was here the wandering eye was first seen..

By day if had simply a grey color, piercing, steady, and always
bent on finding out some certain thing, from which it could not
be diverted; at night it glowed with a light of its own, and
could be seen moving over the Island, now quickly, now slowly, as
it settled to look for that which it did not find.

The people had a fear of this eye, although they were then
accustomed to all sorts of magical occurrences now unknown to
most Western men. At first those who felt themselves annoyed by
it used to destroy or catch it, but never succeeded, because the
moment they made the attempt the eye would disappear. It never
manifested resentment, but seemed filled with a definite purpose
and bent towards a well-settled end. Even those who had essayed
to do away with it were surprised to find no threatening in its
depths when, in the darkness of the night, it floated up by their
bedsides and looked them over again.

If any one else save myself know of the occasion when this
marvelous wanderer first started. To whom it had belonged, I
never heard. I was bound to secrecy and could not reveal it.

In the same old temple and tower to which I have previously
referred, [ A CURIOUS TALE, and THE SERPENT'S BLOOD ( two tales
by Bryan Kinnavan -- Judge ] there was an old man who had always
been on terms of great intimacy with me. He was a disputer and
a doubter, yet terribly in earnest and anxious to know the truths
of nature, but he continually raised the question: "If I could
only know the truth; that is all I wish to know."

Then whenever I suggested solutions received from my teachers, he
would wander away to his eternal doubts. The story was whispered
about the temple that he had entered life in that state of mind,
and was known to the superior as one who, in a preceding life,
had raised doubts and impossibilities merely for the sake of
hearing solutions without desire to prove anything, and had
vowed, after many years of profitless discussion, to seek for
truth alone.

But the Karma accumulated by the lifelong habit had not been
exhausted, and in the incarnation when I met him, although
sincere and earnest, he was hampered by the pernicious habit of
the previous life. Hence the solutions he sought were always near
but ever missed.

But towards the close of the life of which I am speaking he
obtained a certainty that by peculiar practices he could
concentrate in his eye not only the sight but also the other
forces, and wilfully set about the task against my strong
protest.

Gradually his eyes assumed a most extraordinary and piercing
expression which was heightened whenever he indulged in
discussion. He was hugging the one certainty to his breast, and
still suffering from the old Karma of doubt. So he fell sick,
and being old came near to death. One night I visited him at his
request, and on reaching his side I found him approaching
dissolution. We were alone. He spoke freely but very sadly,
for, as death drew near, he saw more clearly, and as the hours
fled but his eyes grew more extraordinarily piercing than ever,
with a pleading, questioning expression.

"Ah," he said, "I have erred again; but it is just Karma. I
have succeeded in but one thing, and that ever will delay me."

"What is that?" I asked.

The expression of his eyes seemed to embrace futurity as he told
me that his peculiar practice would compel him for a long period
to remain chained to his strongest eye--the right one--until the
force of the energy expended in learning that one feat was fully
exhausted. I saw death slowly creeping over his features, and
when I thought him dead he suddenly gained strength to make me
promise not to reveal the secret--and expired.

As he passed away, it was growing dark. After his body had
become cold, there in the darkness I saw a human eye glowing and
gazing at me. It was his, for I recognized the expression. All
his peculiarities and modes of thought seemed fastened into it,
sweeping out over you from it. Then it turned from me, soon
disappearing. His body was buried; none save myself and our
superiors knew of these things. Nut for many years afterwards
the wandering eye was seen in every part of the Island, ever
seeking, ever asking, and never waiting for the answer.

Bryan Kinnavan
(Wm. Q. Judge)

PATH, May 1889

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Best wishes,
Dallas