Theos-Talk Archives (May 2002 Message tt00004)

Thursday, May 02, 2002

Dear Friends:

I send here an interesting story concerning the theosophical view of
the elemental forces that work around us and in particular those
concerned with the earth.

It might be interesting to see if there are any comments or questions
that could be brought forward on this.

==============================


THE SKIN OF THE EARTH

A tale by W. Q. Judge


The cold materialism of th 19th century paralyzes sentiment and kills
mysticism. Thus it commits a double crime, in robbing man and
preventing many classes of sentient beings from progressing up the
ladder that leads from earth to heaven.

So in telling these tales I feel sheltered behind the shield of the
editors of the magazine for which I write, for, were I to be known as
believing that any beings whatever other than man are affected by the
mental negations of the century, my life would soon become a burden.

This age is so full of ignorance that it sees not and cares nothing
for the groans that are rolling among the caverns of mother earth
fathoms deep below its surface. Nor will it care until its contempt
for what it calls superstition shall have caused its ruin, and
then--another age will have risen and other men have come.

It was not so in our Sacred Island cycles ago. Then what we call
superstition was knowledge that has now been replaced by impudent
scorn for aught save the empiric classification of a few facts; a
heritage of glory given up for a mere statement of the limits of our
ignorance. But I will plunge into the past and forget the present
jour.

Seven months had rolled away since the time when, standing in the
picture gallery, I had seen the simulacrum of a dear friend blacken
and disappear, and now on the morning of the day when I was to pass by
the mountain of the diamond, the news was brought to me how he had
fallen faithless to his trust, overcome by vanity with its dark
companion, doubt.

So, at the appointed hour, I waited for the messenger. Once again the
white moonbeams shone into the room and, revealing the monthly dial
curiously wrought into the floor and walls by a chemical art that
allowed nothing to be revealed save by moonlight after the 14th day of
her course, told me in a language pale and cold that this was the 17th
day. I stood and watched the dial, fascinated by the symbols that
crept out with the silvery light, although for years I had seen the
same thing every month. But now as I looked some new combination of
our ancient magic was revealed. Every now and then clouds seemed to
roll across the floor, while on them rested the earth itself. This I
had never seen before. Seven times it rolled by, and then I felt next
t me the silent messenger. Turning I saw him just as he stood when he
called me to the gallery,

"Do you know this picture?" said he.

"No. All is dark to me."

"It is the sign that you are to come to the earth's hall beyond the
gallery. Look again closely at that rolling ball upon the clouds, and
tell me what you see."

These words seemed to float not from the man's lips, but from all
about him, as it the air was full of sound. But observing the
direction I gazed at the picture and saw that the surface of the
mystic globe was moving, and then that myriads of small creatures were
coming through it.

"It is time" said the sounds from all about the impassive being.
"That is the signal. We will go." And he turned away.

I followed while he led me up to the building and through the gallery
of tell-tale pictures where still in the silence the faces changed and
the soft music sounded. I would have lingered there to see those magic
pictures, but a cord seemed to draw me after my guide. As we
approached the other end of the gallery soothing was visible to the
eye save a blank wall, but the messenger passed through it an
disappeared. Afraid to stop, unable to resist the drawing of the
invisible cord, I walked against the wall. One short moment of
suspense and with my breath held I had passed through; it was but a
cloud, or a vapor--and I was on the other side. Turing, expecting to
still see though that immaterial wall, I found it was impervious to
the sight and then the cord that drew me slackened, for my guide had
stopped. Stepping up to the wall, my outstretched fingers went through
it, or rather disappeared within it, for they felt no sensation. Then
the messenger's voice said.

"Such is the skin of the Earth to those who live below it." With
these words he walked on again through a door in a large room into
which I followed. Here a faint but oppressive smell of earth filled
all the space, and, standing just inside the door-way now closed by a
noiselessly moving door, I saw the whole place save where we stood was
moving, as if the great globe were here seen revolving upon its axis
and all its motions felt.

As I gazed the surface of the revolving mass was seen to be covered
with circling hosts of small creatures whose movements caused the
revolutions, and all at once it seemed as it the moving body became
transparent, and within was filled with the same creatures. They were
constantly coming from the surface and moving to the center along
well-defined paths. Here was the whole globe represented in forcible
miniature , and these creatures within and upon it of their own nature
moved it, guided by some mysterious Being whose presence was only
revealed by beams of light. Nor could the others see him, but his
silent directions were carried out.

These little beings were of every color and form; some wore an
appearance similar to that of man himself, others appeared like star
blossoms of the sea, their pure tints waxing and waning as they
throbbed with an interior pulse of light. Whatever their shapes,
these seemed evanescent, translucent, and easily dissipated; in their
real essence the creatures were centers of energy, a nucleolus around
which light condensed, now if this form, now in that, with constant
progression of type and form. Some were swift and [more] harmonious
in their movements than others, and these I understood were the more
progressed in the scale of Being. Such had a larger orbit, and
satellites circled about them. Of such systems the place was full,
and all owed obedience to the subtle and interior Power which I could
not discern. Each system existed for the service of all the rest;
each; each complemented and sustained the others as they swept onward
in a harmony that was labor and love. Their object seemed twofold:
they assisted in maintaining the revolutions of the earth upon its
axis and in guiding it in its orbit. They also grew through the
ever-increasing swiftness of their own motions into greater splendor
and brightness, approaching greater intelligence, coming ever nearer
to self-conscious reason and love, and, as they grew, stimulated the
latent spark in the metals and all the underworld growth as the
lambent touch of flame awakens flame.

Guided by the Unseen Power and in their automatic obedience (for to
obey was their nature), there were some who, by the greatness of their
own momentum and the ferment of new forces attracted and gathering
about them, seemed upon the point of bursting into some fuller
expression, some higher state of intelligence and life but they were
withheld by something that was not the Power guiding them. Looking
closer I saw that an antagonistic influence was at work in the place.

The orbit of many of those docile and beautiful creatures included a
passage to and fro the mystic wall. Their duties were upon the earth
as well as beneath it surface; faithful fulfillment of these
functions comprised an evolution into higher service and a higher
form. The malign influence often prevented this. It seemed like a
dark mist full of noxious vapor that deadened while it chilled. As
the clouds rolled into the hall their wreaths assumed now this shape
and now that, changeful and lurid suggestions of hatred, lust and
pride. Many of the creatures coming in contact with these had that
influence stamped upon their sensitive spheres giving them the horrid
likeness which they were powerless to shake off, thus becoming
servants of the baleful mist itself with altered and discordant
motions. Others were paralyzed with the chill contact. Others were
so taxed to make up for the partial suspension of their fellows'
activity that their work was unsteady and their orbital revolutions
checked. But still the hole throng swung on like some splendid
creation, paling, glowing, throbbing, pausing, a huge iridescent heart
scintillating, singing through the gloom. Here the mist was beaten
back by greater efforts that jarred the harmony; there it gathered,
condensed, and in its vile embrace swept in bright systems, stifling
their motions, then leaving them. And all through this strange
picture and wonderful battle I could see the dim cloud-like shapes of
cities inhabited by the men of the globe.

In my mind the query rose, "Why do the earth's cities look like
dreams?"

And there upon the wall flashed out this sentence, while its meaning
sounded in every letter:

"When you are being shown the elemental beings, the men of your earth
and their cities appear as clouds because it is not to them that your
mind is directed. Look yet again!"

I saw that the evil mist had gathered strength in one part of the
place, and had destroyed the harmony and swiftness of so many of the
little beings that the great circling globe was moving off its axis,
circling more and more. So I knew that upon whatever earth this
happened great changes would occur, and that in the path of the mist
there would sweep over man epidemics of disease and crime. Horrified
at such impending calamities, I sought for an answer and looked
towards my guide. As I did so he disappeared, and upon the wall his
voice seemed to paint itself in living letters that themselves gave
out a sound.

"It is the thoughts of men." I hid my face, appalled at owning such a
heritage, and when I looked again great jets spurted through the Skin
of the Earth, thoughts spouting and pouring out in miasmic streams.

I would have asked more, but again from some vast distance came the
tones of the deep bronze bell; as shower of earth's blossoms fell
abut me; I had passed the wall; my guide was gone; and I was alone
in my own room reflecting on what I has seen..

Bryan Kinnavan ( W. Q. Judge)

PATH, October 1889

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Best wishes as always,




Dallas