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Karmic Visions -- summary

Feb 11, 2003 04:46 PM
by dalval14

Feb 11 2003

Dear George:

Lovely hearing from you.

Look at this as an example of the Adept's powers:

NOTE this article was published by H P B under the pseudonym of
"Sanjana" ( The Knower) in Lucifer, 15 June 1888, and this date was
coincidental with the death of Frederick III of Prussia who had cancer
of the throat.

This means that she knew what was happening as it was happening and
wrote concurrently with the illness and death of the sovereign.



Here are some statements I though were of significance:

KARMIC VISIONS H P B Articles I 383 A partial summary

P. 384 Among millions of other Souls, a Soul-Ego is reborn: for weal
or for woe...Captive in its new human Form, it grows with it, and
together they become, at last, conscious of their existence...For them
all is the joyful Present: for the Soul-Ego is unaware that it had
ever lived in other human tabernacles, it knows not that it shall be
again reborn, and it takes no thought of the morrow.

P. 388 Flitting between two eternities, far away from its
birth-place, solitary...the Form is drawn with every day nearer to its
Spirit-Soul. Another light unapproached and unapproachable in days of
joy, softly descends upon the weary prisoner. It sees now that which
it had never perceived before. . .

P. 388 To the grief-furrowed soul those twinkling orbs [the stars]
are the eyes of angels. They look down with ineffable pity on the
suffering of mankind. It is not the night dew that falls on the
sleeping flowers, but sympathetic tears that drop from those orbs, at
the sight of the Great HUMAN SORROW. . . .

P. 389 Swift-winged dreams descend from the laughing stars in motley
crowds...They hover over the sleepers, each attracted by its affinity
and kind; dreams... sensed by the soul; some instilling happiness and
consolation, others causing sobs to heave the sleeping bosom, tears
and mental torture, all and one preparing unconsciously to the
sleepers their waking thoughts of the morrow.

P. 389 Hot and feverish its body tosses about in restless
agony...Through the mental agony of the soul, there lies a transformed
man. Through the physical agony of the frame, there flutters in it a
fully awakened Soul. The veil of illusion has fallen off from the cold
idols of the world...The thoughts of the Soul fall like dark shadows
on the cogitative faculties of the fast disorganizing body, haunting
the thinker daily, nightly, hourly. . . .

P. 389-90 Visions of another kind now haunt his weary days and
long sleepless nights. . . . What he now sees is a throng...thousands
of mangled corpses covering the ground, torn and cut to shreds by the
murderous weapons devised by science and civilization, blessed to
success by the servants of his God. What he now dreams of are
bleeding, wounded and dying men...

P. 390-1 ...he hears a voice--the voice of the Soul-Ego--saying in
"Fame and victory are vainglorious words. . . . Thanksgiving and
prayers for lives destroyed--wicked lies and blasphemy!" . . . .
"What have they brought thee or to thy fatherland, those bloody
victories!" whispers the Soul in him... it replies. "... A people,
henceforth deaf to the peaceful voice of the honest citizen's duty,
averse to a life of peace, blind to the arts and literature,
indifferent to all but lucre and ambition...Oh woe and horror! I
foresee once more for earth the suffering I have already witnessed...
But if I live and have the power, never, oh never shall my country
take part in it again!

P. 391-2 Firmer and firmer grows in the Soul-Ego the feeling of
intense hatred for the terrible butchery called war; deeper and deeper
does it impress its thoughts upon the Form that holds it captive.
Hope awakens at times in the aching breast the moments of dreamy hope
are generally followed by hours of still blacker despair. Why, oh why,
thou mocking Nemesis...kindled the flame of holy brotherly love for
man in the breast of one whose heart already feels the approach of the
icy hand of death and decay, whose strength is steadily deserting him
and whose very life is melting away like foam on the crest of a
breaking wave?

P. 393 The Soul-Ego takes its flight into Dreamland. . . into
Helheim, the Kingdom of the Dead, where a Black-Elf reveals to him a
series of its lives and their mysterious concatenation. "Why does man
suffer?" enquires the Soul-Ego. "Because he would become one," is the
mocking answer.

P. 393 Forthwith, the Soul-Ego stands in the presence of the holy
goddess, Saga...She shows the soul the mighty warriors fallen by the
hands of many of its past Forms, on battlefield, as also in the sacred
security of home...In each case the mists of death are dispersed, and
pass from the eyes of the Soul-Ego... In every instance the beliefs of
the Mortal take objective life and shape for the Immortal, as soon as
it spans the Bridge. Then they begin to fade, and disappear. . . .

P. 393-4 "What is my Past?" enquires the Soul-Ego of Urd, the
eldest of the Norn sisters. "Why do I suffer?" A long parchment is
unrolled in her hand, and reveals a long series of mortal beings, in
each of whom the Soul-Ego recognises one of its dwellings. When it
comes to the last but one, it sees a blood-stained hand doing endless
deeds of cruelty. "What is my Future?" asks despairingly of Skuld,
the third Norn sister, the Soul-Ego. "Is it to be for ever with tears,
and bereaved of Hope?" . . .

But the Dreamer feels whirled through space, and suddenly ...the soft
mellow voice of the incessant ripple of the light waves now assumes
human speech, and reminds the Soul-Ego of the vows formed more than
once on that spot. And the Dreamer repeats with enthusiasm the words
pronounced before.

"Never, oh, never shall I, henceforth, sacrifice for vainglorious fame
or ambition a single son of my motherland! Our world is so full of
unavoidable misery, so poor with joys and bliss, and shall I add to
its cup of bitterness the fathomless ocean of woe and blood, called
WAR? Avaunt, such thought! . . . Oh, never more. . . ."

P. 394-5 Strange sight and change. . . . Still greater bliss,
the Soul-Ego finds himself as strong and as healthy as he ever was. In
a stentorian voice he sings to the four winds a loud and a joyous
song. He feels a wave of joy and bliss in him, and seems to know why
he is happy.

He is suddenly transported into what looks a fairy-like Hall, lit with
most glowing lights and built of materials, the like of which he had
never seen before. He perceives the heirs and descendants of all the
monarchs of the globe gathered in that Hall in one happy family. They
wear no longer the insignia of royalty, but, as he seems to know,
those who are the reigning Princes, reign by virtue of their personal
merits. It is the greatness of heart, the nobility of character, their
superior qualities of observation, wisdom, love of Truth and Justice,
that have raised them to the dignity of heirs to the Thrones, of Kings
and Queens. The crowns, by authority and the grace of God, have been
thrown off, and they now rule by "the grace of divine humanity,"
chosen unanimously by recognition of their fitness to rule, and the
reverential love of their voluntary subjects.

All around seems strangely changed. Ambition, grasping greediness or
envy--miscalled Patriotism--exist no longer. Cruel selfishness has
made room for just altruism, and cold indifference to the wants of the
millions no longer finds favour in the sight of the favoured few.
Useless luxury, sham pretences--social and religious--all has
disappeared. No more wars are possible, for the armies are abolished.
Soldiers have turned into diligent, hard-working tillers of the
ground, and the whole globe echoes his song in rapturous joy. Kingdoms
and countries around him live like brothers. The great, the glorious
hour has come at last! That which he hardly dared to hope and think
about in the stillness of his long, suffering nights, is now realized.
The great curse is taken off, and the world stands absolved and
redeemed in its regeneration! . . . .

Trembling with rapturous feelings, his heart overflowing with love and
philanthropy, he rises to pour out a fiery speech that would become
historic, when suddenly he finds his body gone, or, rather, it is
replaced by another body. . . . Yes, it is no longer the tall, noble
Form with which he is familiar, but the body of somebody else, of whom
he as yet knows nothing.

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