Theos-Talk Archives (January 2004 Message tt00037)

Dallas


-----Original Message-----
From: Nisk9
Sent: Saturday, January 03, 2004 7:31 AM
To: 
Subject: RE: OCCULT TALES on line.


I'd like the one's you have on-line. Thanks

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OCCULT STORIES - JUDGE

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1

OCCULT TALES BY W Q JUDGE


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A CURIOUS TALE [Tale of the Tower & Sacred Fire]

PERSIAN STUDENT'S DOCTRINE

SKIN OF THE EARTH

TELL-TALE PICTURE GALLERY, THE

WANDERING EYE, THE

WHERE THE RISHIS WERE

PAPYRUS



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

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superstition was knowledge that has now been replaced by impudent scorn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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2

THE TELL-TALE PICTURE GALLERY

A Tale by W. Q. Judge


Although the gallery of pictures about which I now write has long ago
been abandoned, and never since its keepers left the spot where it was
has it been seen there, similar galleries are still to be found in
places that one cannot get into until guided to them. They are now
secreted in distant and inaccessible spots--in the Himalaya mountains;
beyond them, in Tibet; in underground India; and such mysterious
locations. The need for such reports by spies or for confessions by
transgressors is not felt by secret fraternities which possess such
strange recorders of the doings, thoughts, and conditions of those whom
they portray. In the brotherhoods of the Roman Catholic Church, or in
Free-masonry, no failure to abide by rules could ever be dealt with
unless some one reported the delinquent or he himself made a confession.
Every day mason after mason breaks both the letter and spirit of the
vows he made, but, no one knowing or making charges, he remains a mason
in good standing. The soldier in camp or field oversteps the strictest
rules of discipline, yet it if done out of sight of those who could
divulge or punish he remains untouched. And in the various religious
bodies, the members continually break, either in act or in thought, all
the commandments, unknown to their fellows and the heads of the Church,
with no loss of standing. But neither the great Roman Church, the
Free-masons, nor any religious sect possesses such a gallery as that of
which I will try to tell you, one in which is registered every smallest
deed and thought.

I do not mean the great Astral Light that retains faithful pictures of
all we do, whether we be Theosophists or Scoffers, Catholics or
Free-masons, but a veritable collection of simulacrae deliberately
constructed so as to specialize one of the many functions of the Astral
Light.

It was during one of my talks with the old man who turned into a
wandering eye that I first heard of this wonderful gallery, and after
his death I was shown the place itself. It was kept on the Sacred
Island where of old many weird and magical things existed and events
occurred. You may ask why these are not now found there, but you might
as well request that I explain why Atlantis sank beneath the wave or why
the great Assyrian Empire has disappeared. They have had their day,
just as our present boasted civilization will come to its end and be
extinguished. Cyclic law cannot be held from its operation, and just as
sure as tides change on the globe and blood flows in the body, so sure
is it that great doings reach their conclusion and powerful nations
disappear.

It was only a few months previous to the old man's death, when
approaching dissolution or superior orders, I know not which, caused him
to reveal many things and let slip hints as to others. He had been
regretting his numerous errors one day, and turning to me said,

"And have you never seen the gallery where your actual spiritual state
records itself?"

Not knowing what he meant I replied: "I did not know they had one
here."

"Oh, yes; it is in the old temple over by the mountain, and the diamond
gives more light there than anywhere else."

Fearing to reveal my dense ignorance, not only of what he meant but also
of the nature of this gallery, I continued the conversation in a way to
elicit more information, and he supposing I had known of others, began
to describe this one. But in the very important part of the description
he turned the subject as quickly as he had introduced it, so that I
remained a prey to curiosity. And until the day of his death he did not
again refer to it. The extraordinary manner of his decease, followed by
the weird wandering eye, drove the thought of the pictures out of my
head.

Nut it would seem that the effect of this floating, lonely, intelligent
eye upon my character was a foretoken of my introduction to the gallery.
His casual question, in connection with his own shortcomings and the
lesson impressed on me by the intensification and concentration of all
his nature into one eye hat ever wandered about the Island, mad me turn
my thoughts inward so as to discover and destroy the seeds of evil in
myself. Meanwhile all duties in the temple where I lived were
assiduously performed.  

One night after attaining to some humility of spirit, I feel quietly
asleep with the white moonlight falling over the floor, and dreamed that
I met the old man again as when alive, and that he asked me if I had yet
seen the picture gallery.

:No," said I in the dream, "I had forgotten it," awakening then at sound
of my own voice.

Looking up, I saw in the moonlight a figure of one I had not seen in any
of the temples. This being gazed at me with clear, cold eyes, and afar
off sounded what I supposed its voice.

"Come with me."

Rising from the bed I went out into the night, following this laconic
guide. The moon was full, high in her course, and all the place was
full of her radiance. In the distance the walls of the temple nearest
the diamond mountain appeared self-luminous. To that the guide walked,
and we reached the door now standing wide open. As I came to the
threshold, suddenly the lonely, grey, wandering eye of my old dead
friend and co-disciple floated past looking deep into my own, and I read
its expression as if it would say,

"The picture-gallery is here."

We entered, and, although some priests were there, no one seemed to
notice me. Through the court, across a hall, down a long corridor we
went, and then into a wide and high roofless place with but one door.
Only the stars in heaven adorned the space above, while streams of more
than moonlight poured into it from the diamond, so that there were no
shadows nor any need for lights. As the noiseless door swung softly
shut behind us, sad music floated down in one spot, but was quickly
swallowed in the light.


"Examine with care, but touch not and fear nothing," said my taciturn
companion. With these words he turned and left me alone.

But how could I say I was alone ! The place was full of faces. They
were ranged up and down the long hall; near the floor, above it;
higher, on the walls; in the air; everywhere except in one aisle; but
not a single one moved from its place, yet each was seemingly alive.
And at intervals strange watchful creatures of the elemental world moved
about from place to place. Were they watching me or the faces? Now I
felt they had me in view, for sudden glances out of the corners of their
eyes shot my way; but in a moments something happened showing they
guarded or watched the faces.

I was standing looking at the face of an old friend about my own age who
had been sent to another part of the island, and it filled me with
sadness unaccountably. One of the curious elemental creatures moved
silently up near it. In amazement I strained my eyes, for the picture
of my friend was apparently discoloring. Its expression altered every
moment. It turned from white to grey and yellow, and back to grey, and
the suddenly if grew all black as if with rapid decomposition.(*) Then
again that same sad music, I had heard on entering floated past me,
while the blackness of the face seemed to cast a shadow, but not for
long. The elemental pounced upon the blackened face, now soulless,
tore it in pieces and by some process unknown to itself dissipated the
atoms and restored the brightness of the spot. But alas ! my of
friend's picture was gone, and I felt within me a heavy, almost
unbearable gloom as of despair. 
[(*) FN: Compare with Mr. Judge's "Culture of Concentration" article,
where the several vices are described. -- W. Q. J Articles Vol. I, p.
319.]

As I grew accustomed to the surroundings, my senses perceived every now
and then sweet but low musical sounds that appeared to emanate from or
around these faces. So, selecting one, I stood in front of it and
watched. It was bright and pure. Its eyes looked into mine with the
half-intelligence of a dream. Yet it grew now and then a little
brighter, and as that that happened I heard the gentle music. This
convinced me that the changes in expression were connected with the
music.

But fearing I would be called away, I began to carefully scan the
collection, and found that all my co-disciples were represented there,
as well as hundreds whom I had never seen, and every priest high or low
whom I had observed about the island. Yet the same saddening music
every now and then reminded me of the scene of the blacking of my
friend's picture. I knew it meant others blackened and were being
destroyed by the watchful elementals who I could vaguely perceive were
pouncing upon something whenever those notes sounded. They were like
the wails of angels when they see another mortal going to moral suicide.

Dimly after a while there grew upon me an explanation of this gallery.
Here were the living pictures of every student or priest of the order
founded by the Adepts of the Diamond Mountain. These vitalized pictures
were connected by invisible cords with the character of those they
represented, and like a telegraph instrument they instantly recorded the
exact state of the disciple's mind; when he made a complete failure,
they grew black and were destroyed; when he progressed in spiritual
life, their degrees of brightness or beauty showed his exact standing.  

As these conclusions were reached, louder and stronger musical tones
filled the hall. Directly before me was a beautiful, peaceful face;
its brilliance outshone the light around, and I knew that some unseen
brother--how far or near was unknown to me--had reached some height or
advancement that corresponded to such tones.

Just then my guide reentered; I found I was near the door; it was
open; and together we passed out, retracing the same course by which we
had entered. Once outside the setting of the moon showed how long I had
been in the gallery. The silence of my guide prevented speech, and he
returned with me to the room I had left. There he stood looking at me,
and once more I heard as it were from afar his voice in inquiry, as if
he said but

"Well ?"

Into my mind came the question, "How are those faces made ?" From all
about him, but not from his lips, came the answer,

"You cannot understand. They are not the persons, and yet they are made
from their minds and bodies."

"Was I right in the idea that they were connected with those they
pictured by invisible cords along which the person's condition was
carried?"

"Yes, perfectly. And they never err. From day to day they change for
better or worse. Once the disciple has entered this path his picture
forms there; and we need no spies, no officious fellow disciples to
prefer charges, no reports, no machinery. Everything registers itself.
We have but to inspect the images to know just how the disciple gets on
or goes back."

"And those curious elementals," thought I, "do they feed on the
blackened images?"

"They are our scavengers. They gather up and dissipate the decomposed
and deleterious atoms that formed the image before it grows black--no
longer fit for such good company."
 
"And the music--did it come from the images?"

"Ah, boy, you have much to learn. It came from them, but it belongs
also to every other soul. It is the vibration of the disciple's
thoughts and spiritual life; it is the music of his good deeds and his
brotherly love."

Then came to me a dreadful thought, "How can one--if at all--restore
his image once it has blackened in the gallery?"

But my guide was no longer there. A faint rustling sound was all--and
three deep notes as if upon a large bronze bell.

-- Bryan Kinnevan
(W. Q. Judge)

PATH June 1889

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3






WHERE THE RISHIS WERE


The Rishis were the sacred Bards, the Saints, the great
Adepts
Known to the Hindus, who gave great spiritual impulses
in the
Past and are said to sometimes reincarnate, and who at
one time
lived on the earth among men.


"The world is made of seas and islands. For continents are only great
lands water-encircled. Men must ever live upon sea or land, then,
unless they abide in air, and if they live in the air, they are not men
as we know them."

Thus I thought as the great ship steamed slowly into the port of a small
island, and before the anchor fell the whole scene seemed to change and
the dazzling light of the past blotted out the dark pictures of modern
civilization. Instead of an English ship I was standing on an ancient
vehicle propelled by force unknown today, until the loud noises of
disembarkation roused me once again.

But landed now, I was standing on the hill overlooking the town and bay.
The strange light and the curious vehicle again obtained mastery over
sense and eye, while the whole majesty of forgotten years rolled in from
the Ocean. Vainly did modern education struggle and soar: I let the
curtain drop upon the miserable present.

Now softly sings the water as it rolls against the shore, with the sun
but one hour old shining upon its surface. But, far off, what is that
spot coming nearer from the West, followed by another and another until
over the horizon rise hundreds, and now some are so near that they are
plainly seen? The same strange vehicles as that I saw at first. Like
birds they fly through the air. They come slowly now, and some have
been brought still on the land. They light on the earth with a softness
that seems nearly human, with a skill that is marvelous, without any
shock or rebound. From them alight men of noble mien who address me as
friends, and one more noble than the others seems to say, "Wouldst thou
know of all this? Then come," as he turns again to his vehicle that
stands there like a bird in wait to be off.

"Yes, I will go;" and I felt that the past and the present were but one,
and knew what I should see, yet could not remember it but with a
vagueness that blotted out all the details.

We entered the swift intelligently-moving vehicle, and then it rose up
on the air's wide-spreading arms and flew again fast to the West, where
the water was still softly singing to the beams of the sun. The horizon
slowly rose and the Island behind us was hidden by the sea from our
sight. And still as onward we flew to the Occident, many more birds
made by manlike that we were in flew by us as if in haste for the
soft-singing waters lapping the shore of that peak of the sea mountain
we had left in the Orient. Flying too high at first we heard no sound
from the sea, but soon a damp vapor that blew in my face from the salt
deep showed that we were descending, and then spoke my friend.

"Look below and around and before you!"

Down there were the roar and rush of mad billows that reached toward the
sky, vast hollows that sucked in a world. Black clouds shut out the
great sun, and I saw that the crust of the earth was drawn in to her own
subterranean depths. Turning now to the master, I saw that he heard my
unuttered question. He said,

"A cycle has ended. The great bars that kept back the sea have been
broken down by their weight. From these we have come and are coming."

Then faster sailed our bird, and I saw that a great Island was
perishing. What was left of the shore still crumbled, still entered the
mouth of the sea. And there were cars of the air just the same as that
I was in, only dark and unshining, vainly trying to rise with their
captains; rising slowly, then falling, and then swallowed up. 

But here we have rushed further in where the water has not overflowed,
and now we see that few are the bright cars of air that are waiting
about while their captains are entering and spoiling the mighty cars of
the men whose clothing is red and whose bodies, so huge and amazing, are
sleeping as if from the fumes of a drug.

As these great red men are slumbering, the light-stepping captains with
sun-colored cloaks are finishing the work of destruction. And now,
swiftly though we came, the waters have rushed on behind us, the salt
breath of the all-devouring deep sweeps over us. The sun-colored
captains enter their light air-cars and rise with a sweep that soon
leaves the sleepers, now waking, behind them. The huge red-coated
giants hear the roar of the waters and feel the cold waves roll about
them. They enter their cars, but only to find all their efforts are
wasted. Soon the crumbling earth no longer supports them, and all by an
inrushing wave are engulfed, drawn into the mouth of the sea, and the
treacherous ocean with roars as of pleasure in conquest has claimed the
last race of that Island.

But one has escaped of all the red giants, and slowly but surely his car
sailed up, up, as if to elude the sun-colored men who were spoilers.

Then, loud, clear, and thrilling swelled out a note of marvelous power
from my captain, and back came a hundred of those brilliant fast cars
that were speeding off eastward. Now they pursue the heavy, vast,
slow-moving car of the giant, surround it, and seem to avoid its
attacks. Then again swells that note from my master as our car hung
still on its wings. It was a signal, obeyed in an instant.

One brilliant, small sharp-pointed car is directed full at the red
giant's vehicle. Propelled by a force that exceeds the swift bullet, it
pierces the other, itself, too, is broken and falls on the waves with
its victim. Trembling I gazed down below, but my captain said kindly,

"He is safe, for he entered another bright car at the signal. All those
red-coated men are now gone, and that last was the worse and the
greatest."

Back eastward once more through the salt spray and the mist until soon
the bright light shone again and the Island rose over the sea with the
soft-singing water murmuring back to the sun. We alighted, and then, as
I turned, the whole fleet of swift sailing cars disappeared, and out in
the sky flashed a bright streak of sun-colored light that formed into
letters which read:

"This is where the Rishis were before the chalk cliffs of Albion rose
out of the wave. They were but are not."

And loud, clear and thrilling rose that note I had heard in the car of
swift pinions. It thrilled me with sadness, for past was the glory and
naught for the future was left but a destiny.

Bryan Kinnavan
(Wm. Q. Judge)
THE PATH, January 1891.

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



THE PERSIAN STUDENT'S DOCTRINE


 
BEFORE the flashing diamond in the mysterious mountain behind the Temple
began to lose its brilliance, many foreigners had visited the Island.
Among them were students who came from Persia. Coming that great
distance they sought more knowledge, as in their own land the truth was
already beginning to be forgotten. It was hidden under a thick crust of
fanciful interpretations of the sayings of their sages which were fast
turning into superstitious notions. And these young men thought that in
the Island, the fame of which had spread over land and sea, they would
find learning and wisdom and the way to power. But yet while in such a
frame of mind, they regarded some things as settled even for sages. What
they said did not have much influence on me until they began to quote
some of the old writings from the prophets of their country, attempting
to prove that men, though god-like and immortal, transmigrated sometimes
backwards into beasts and birds and insects. As some old Buddhist monks
had years before given out the same idea with hints of mystery
underneath, the sayings of these visitors began to trouble me. They
quoted these verses from the prophet the Great Abad:
Those who, in the season of prosperity, experience pain and grief,
suffer them on account of their words or deeds in a former body, for
which the Most Just now punisheth them.
Whosoever is an evil doer, on him He first inflicteth pain under the
human form; for sickness, the sufferings of children while in their
mothers womb, and after they are out of it, and suicide, and being hurt
by ravenous animals, and death, and being subjected to want from birth
till death, are all retributions for past actions; and in like manner as
to goodness.
The lion, the tiger, the leopard, the panther, . . . with all ravenous
animals, whether birds or quadrupeds or creeping things, have once
possessed authority: and every one whom they kill hath been their aider
or abetter, who did evil by supporting, or assisting, or by the orders
of, that exalted class; and having given pain to harmless animals are
now punished by their own masters.
The horse submits to be ridden on, and the ox, the camel, the mule, and
the ass bear burdens. And these in a former life were men who imposed
burdens on others unjustly.
Such persons as are foolish and evil doers, being enclosed in the body
of vegetables, meet with the reward of their stupidity and misdeeds. And
such as possess illaudable knowledge and do evil are enclosed in the
body of minerals until their sins be purified; after which they are
delivered from this suffering, and are once more united to a human body;
and according as they act in it they again meet with retribution.
These young men made such good arguments of these texts, and dwelt so
strongly upon the great attainments of Abad, who was beyond doubt a
prophet of insight, that doubts arose in my mind. While the verses did
not deny the old doctrine of man's reincarnation, they added a new view
to the matter that had never suggested itself to me before. The students
pointed out that there was a very wise and consistent doctrine in those
verses wherein it was declared that murderers, tyrants, and such men
would be condemned to inhabit the bodies of such murderous beasts as
lions and tigers. They made out a strong case on the other verses also,
showing that those weak but vicious men who had aided and abetted the
stronger and more violent murderers should be condemned to precipitation
out of the human cycle into the bodies of defenseless animals, in
company with ferocious beasts, by the strength and ferocity of which
they would at last be destroyed themselves. And thus, said these
visitors, they proceed in each other's company, lower and lower in the
scale of organized life, reaching at last those kingdoms of nature like
the mineral, where differentiation in the direction of man is not yet
visible. And from there the condemned beings would be ground out into
the great mass and slime at the very bottom of nature's ladder.
Not wishing to admit or accept these doctrines from strangers, I engaged
in many arguments with them on the matter, until at last they left the
Island to continue their pilgrimage.

So one day, being troubled in mind about these sayings of Abad, which,
indeed, I heard from the students were accepted in many countries and
given by several other prophets, I sought out the old man who so often
before had solved problems for me. He was a man of sorrow, for although
possessor of power and able to open up the inner planes of nature, able
to give to a questioner the inner sight for a time so that one could see
for himself the real truth of material things, something ever went with
him that spoke of a sorrow he could not tell about. Perhaps he was
suffering for a fault the magnitude of which no one knew but himself;
perhaps the final truths eluded him; or maybe he had a material belief
at bottom. But he was always kind, and ever ready to give me the help I
needed provided I had tried myself in every way and failed to obtain it.

"Brother," I said, "do we go into animals when we die?"

"Who said that we do?" was his answer.

"It is declared by the old prophet Abad of the Worshippers of Fire that
we thus fall down from our high estate gained with pain and difficulty."
"Do you believe it; have you reasoned it out or accepted the doctrine?"
"No," I said, "I have not accepted it. Much as I may reason on it, there
are defects in my replies, for there seems to be consistency in the
doctrine that the ferocious may go into the ferocious and vicious into
the wild animals; the one destroying the other and man, the hunter,
killing the ferocious. Can you solve it?"

Turning on me the deep and searching gaze he used for those who asked
when he would determine if curiosity alone moved them, he said, "I will
show you the facts and the corrupted doctrine together, on the night of
the next full moon."

Patiently I waited for the moon to grow, wondering, supposing that the
moon must be connected with the question, because we were said to have
come by the way of the moon like a flock of birds who migrated north or
south according to their nature. At last the day came and I went to the
old man. He was ready. Turning from the room he took me to a small cave
near the foot of the Diamond Mountain. The light of the diamond seemed
to illuminate the sky as we paused at the entrance. We went in by the
short passage in front, and here, where I had never been before, soft
footfalls of invisible beings seemed to echo as if they were retreating
before us, and half-heard whispers floated by us out into the night. But
I had no fear. Those footfalls, though strange, had no malice, and such
faint and melodious whispering aroused no alarm. He went to the side of
the cave so that we looked at the other side. The passage had a sharp
turn near the inner entrance, and no light fell around us. Thus we
waited in silence for some time.

"Look quietly toward the opposite wall," said the old man, "and waver
not in thought."

Fixing an unstrained gaze in the direction of the other side, it soon
seemed to quiver, then an even vibration began across it until it looked
like a tumbling mass of clouds. This soon settled into a grey flat
surface like a painter's canvas, that was still as the clear sky and
seemingly transparent. It gave us light and made no reflection.

"Think of your question, of your doubts, and of the young students who
have raised them; think not of Abad, for he is but a name," whispered my
guide.

Then, as I revolved the question, a cloud arose on the surface before
me; it moved, it grew into shapes that were dim at first. They soon
became those of human beings. They were the living pictures of my
student friends. They were conversing, and I too was there but less
plain than they. But instead of atmosphere being around them they were
surrounded with ether, and streams of ether full of what I took to be
corporeal atoms in a state of change continually rushed from one to the
other. After I had accustomed my sight to this, the old man directed me
to look at one of the students in particular. From him the stream of
ether loaded with atoms, very dark in places and red in others, did not
always run to his fellows, but seemed to be absorbed elsewhere. Then
when I had fixed this in my mind all the other students faded from the
space, their place taken by some ferocious beasts that prowled around
the remaining student, though still appearing to be a long distance from
him. And then I saw that the stream of atoms from him was absorbed by
those dreadful beasts, at the same time that a mask fell off, as it
were, from his face, showing me his real ferocious, murderous mind.
"He killed a man on the way, in secret. He is a murderer at heart," said
my guide. "This is the truth that Abad meant to tell. Those atoms fly
from all of us at every instant. They seek their appropriate center;
that which is similar to the character of him who evolves them. We
absorb from our fellows whatever is like unto us. It is thus that man
reincarnates in the lower kingdoms. He is the lord of nature, the key,
the focus, the highest concentrator of nature's laboratory. And the
atoms he condemns to fall thus to beasts will return to him in some
future life for his detriment or his sorrow. But he, as immortal man,
cannot fall. That which falls is the lower, the personal, the atomic. He
is the brother and teacher of all below him. See that you do not hinder
and delay all nature by your failure in virtue."

Then the ugly picture faded out and a holy man, named in the air in gold
"Abad," took his place. From him the stream of atoms, full of his
virtue, his hopes, aspirations, and the impression of his knowledge and
power, flowed out to other Sages, to disciples, to the good in every
land. They even fell upon the unjust and the ferocious, and then
thoughts of virtue, of peace, of harmony grew up where those streams
flowed. The picture faded, the cloudy screen vibrated and rolled away.
We were again in the lonely cave. Faint footfalls echoed round the
walls, and soft whispers as of peace and hope trembled through the air.

BRYAN KINNAVAN

Path, October, 1892 



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5




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 tried 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 toward 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,
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 the 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 such 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 all the other forces, and wilfully set about the
task against my strong protest. Gradually his eye 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 by 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 will ever 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 had 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. But 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 Kinnevan
(W. Q. Judge)

PATH, May, 1889


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



6



A CURIOUS TALE

[The Tale of the Tower and the Sacred Eternal Fire ]

A Tale by W. Q. Judge



Some years ago I ran down to the lakes of Killarney, but not for the
purpose merely of seeing them as any other traveller. During my
boyhood the idea of going there had always been before me, and in dreams
I would often find myself on the water or wandering nearby. After this
had occurred many times, I procured photographs of the scenery and was
quite surprised to find that the dreams were accurate enough to seem
like recollections. But various vicissitudes took me to other parts of
the world, so that I had passed my majority without having visited the
place, and, indeed the decision to go there at last was not made until
one day, whole looking into a shop window in Dublin, my eye fell upon a
picture of Killarney, and in an instant I was filled with a strong
desire to see them. So I went on the first train and was very soon
there, quartered with an old man who from the first seemed like an old
friend.

The next day or two were devoted to wandering about with no purpose nor
with very great satisfaction, for the place as a bit of country, did not
interest me after all my wanderings in many different climes. But on
the third day I went off into a field not far from the shores of one of
the sheets of water, and sat down near an old well. It was still early
in the afternoon, and unusually pleasant. My mind had no particular
object before it, and I noticed an inability, quite unusual, to follow
long a definite train of thought. As I sat thus, drowsiness came over
my senses, the field and the well grew grey but still remained in sight,
yet I seemed to be changing into another man, and, as the minutes flew
by, I saw the shadowy form or picture of a tall round tower rising, some
fifty feet high, just beyond the well. shaking myself, this disappeared
and I thought I had fought off the sleepy feeling, but only for a
moment. It returned with new intensity.

The well had disappeared and a building occupied its place, while the
tall tower had grown solid; and then all desire to remain myself
disappeared. I rose with a mechanical feeling that my duty, somehow or
other, called me to the tower, and walked over into the building through
which I knew it was necessary to go in order to reach the tower. As I
passed inside the wall, there was the old well I had seen upon first
coming into the field, but the strange incident did not attract my
attention, for I knew the well as an old landmark. Reaching the tower,
the steps wound up before me to the top, and as I mounted them a voice
quite familiar called my name--a name not the same that I owned to upon
sitting down near the well, but that did not attract my attention any
more than the old well inside the wall. At last I emerged upon the top
of the tower, and there was an old man keeping up a fire. It was the
eternal fire never yet known to have gone out, and I, out of all the
other young disciples, alone was permitted to help the old man.

As my head rose above the level of the low rim of the tower, I saw a
calm and beautiful mountain not far away, and other towers nearer to it
than mine.

"You are late," said the old man. I made no reply, as there was none to
make; but I approached and showed by my attitude that I was ready to go
on watching in his place. As I did this it flashed across me that the
sun was nearing the horizon, and for an instant the memory of the old
man with who I had lodged came before me, as well as the express train
to be reached by cart, but that faded out as the old watcher looked into
my brain with his piercing eyes.

"I fear to leave you in charge," was his first remark. "There is a
shadow, dark and silent, near you."

"Do not fear, father," said I; "I will not leave the fire nor permit it
to go out."

"If you do, then our doom is sealed and the destiny of Innisfallen
delayed."

With those words he turned and left me; and soon I heard his foot-fall
no more on the winding stairs that led below.

The fire seemed bewitched. it would hardly burn, and once or twice it
almost paralyzed me with fear, so nearly did it expire. When the old
man had left me, it was burning brightly. At last it seemed that my
efforts and prayers were successful; the blaze sprang up and all seemed
well. Just then a noise on the stairs caused me to turn around, and to
my surprise a complete stranger came upon the platform where none but
the guardians were allowed.

"Look." he aid; "those fires beyond are dying out."

I looked and was filled with fear to see that the smoke from the towers
near the mountain had died out., and in my sudden amazement rushed to
the parapet to get a nearer view. Satisfied that what the stranger said
was true, I turned to resume my watch, and there, O horror ! my own
fire was just expiring. No lights or tinder were permitted there; the
watcher had to renew the fire by means of the fire. In a frenzy of fear
I leaped to new fuel and put it on the fire, fanned it, laid my face to
it and strove with maddened gasps to blow the flame up, but all my
efforts were vain -- it was dead.

A sickening dread seized me, succeeded by a paralysis of every nerve
except those that aid the hearing. I heard the stranger move towards
me, and then I recognized his voice as he spoke. No other noises were
about, all was dead and cold, and I seemed to know that the ancient
guardian of the fire would return no more, that no one would return,
that some calamity had fallen.

"It is the past," the stranger began. "You have just reached a point
where you failed to feed the fire ages ago. It is done. Do you want to
hear of those things? The old man has gone long ago, and can trouble
you no more. Very soon you will be again in the whirl of the nineteenth
century."

Speech then returned to me and I said, "Yes, tell me what this is, or
has been."

"This is an old tower used by the immediate descendants of the white
Magicians who settled on Ireland when England's Isle had not yet risen
from the sea. When the great Masters had to go away, strict injunctions
were left that no fires on these towers were to go out. and the warning
was also given that, if the duties of life were neglected, if charity,
duty, and virtue were forgotten, the power to keep these fires alive
would gradually disappear. The decadence of the virtues would coincide
with the failure of the fires, and this, the last tower, guarded by an
old and a young man, would be the last to fail, and that even it could
save the rest if its watchers were faithful.

"Many years elapsed, and the brilliant gem placed upon the mount of
Innisfallen blazed forth both by day and night until at last it seemed
to fade a little. The curious sounding-stones, now found in Ireland,
were not so easily blown; only when a pure and faithful servant came
down from the White Tower did the long, strange, and moving sounds float
over the mountains from the stone placed near the mount on which was the
gem. Those stones had been used by the great magicians, and when the
largest of them all, lying near the great White Tower, was sounded, the
fairies of the lakes appeared; when the stone of the mount was blown
together with that at the White Tower, the spirits of the air and the
water ranged themselves obediently around.

"But all this altered, and unbelief crept in while the fires were kept
up as a form.

"You were relied on with the old man. But vain dreams detained you one
hour beyond your appointed time on this fatal day, now in the past, but
shown to you by my special favor. You came, but late. The old man was
compelled to wait, but still feared to leave you, for he saw with
prescient eye the dark finger of fate. He descended the stairs, and at
its foot fell down and died. Your curiosity then drew you at the exact
fatal moment to look at yonder tower, although you knew the prophecy and
believed it. That moment decided all -- and, poor boy, you could not
hold back the iron hand of destiny.

"The fire had gone out. You returned to the floors below; at the foot
of the stairs you saw them carrying away the old man and --- .."

At that point I saw the shadowy, waving shape of the tower; the
building had disappeared, the well was beside me, and I was in the field
again. Oh !

-- Bryan Kinnavan

(W . Q. Judge) PATH, Vol. 3, December 1888, p. 284

Innisfallen -- see W Q J Articles II 97-8, 133; LUCIFER, Vol. 4, p.
347.
Round towers -- ISIS UNVEILED II 290 fn.




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



7


PAPYRUS



 
PAPYRUS
The Tale-teller, shading his gentle eyes from the evening sun, paused a
moment while he listened to the soft strains of the music as it floated
out from the open Temple. The joyous crowd swept by unheeding except for
one or two who dropped out of the current and were left stranded among
those who had gathered at his feet. Presently he came back from the
realm of harmony whither he had drifted, and as the world-light once
more stole over his face he told the tale of:
THREE WHO SOUGHT OUT THE WAY
Word has gone forth over all lands "that all who sought earnestly and in
the true manner should find the way to the mysterious Temple of the
Veiled Goddess."
Three kings of the land, moved by the power of the words, determined
that they also would become students and reach the goal.
Intu, the Illustrious, making ready for the search, deemed nothing else
could be more potent in his quest than the seal of his kingdom.
Thereupon he bound on his forehead the Great Seal, a hawk.
Kour, the Magnificent, making ready for the way thought nothing could be
more powerful in his searching than the seal of his kingdom. Making
ready he bound upon his breast the Great Seal, a golden heart.
Kadmon, the Sorrowful -a king only by sufferance, for his kingdom
consisted only of that which the others did not value -Kadmon deemed it
wise also, inasmuch as they would all journey together, to take his
seal; which was the two others in union; but furthermore, he blindfolded
his eyes.
The three passing onward encountered many strange and unfamiliar things,
for the road was new, and no wayfarer could know more than one step
onward, which was the one he was taking. Upon each side, and frequently
in front, barring the way, were curious objects, sometimes pleasant and
agreeable, but more often quite the reverse. The foliage of the trees
was new and strange, while the fruits grew on different sort of trees,
while at others the same sort of trees bore entirely dissimilar fruits.
The path which they were pursuing was quite the opposite of an ordinary
one, for before them it was visible but one step, while it stretched Far
into the distance behind them. Intu, however, had already made all plain
to himself by a process of reasoning entirely his own. It was, that
these things being the direct opposite of all in his own country which
he ruled, therefore they could only be caused by some one different from
himself -a superior being, that being must be the Goddess- therefore
they were upon the right path, at least he was.
Kour thought these things delightful, they were so strange, so new. In
fact they were phenomenal and he love phenomena. They gave him such
queer sensations, and anything which did that or made him feel other
than when in his own hand-must be caused by the Goddess -oh yes, there
were on the right path, at least he was. As for Kadmon, he seeing none
of these things, could only judge by that which he remembered of his own
country. Each of the others, told him of their existence in their own
way. This was confusing. He determined, therefore to walk onward as if
he were in his own land, but to press steadily on. They were thus, in
reality treading three separate paths, and in their several ways they
passed many persons who had stopped to rest -to eat or sleep- or because
the way was dark and difficult; some because they were too poor, others
because they were ill, footsore or blind. Intu lost some time, for he
stopped to argue with many on the peculiarities of the way and the
logical reasonableness of it, but he had no time to pause for aught
else.
Kour felt for the wayfarers, he was sorry for and loved them. If they
would only feel as he did they could go on easily, but he had no time to
stop to make them feel that way. 
Both Intu and he had all such people in their own lands. There was no
time to waste on natural things. It was the supernatural in a
metaphysical or soul-stirring way they sought.
And Kadmon, the Sorrowful, paused. In his land these were to be found
also. He too realized the reasonableness of the way. He too loved it and
was exalted by it. He too felt for and loved the other wayfarers. He did
more-he sorrowed for them. What mattered it if he did not find the
temple immediately, he was young, the others growing old and blind,
there were sorrowful and weary. So he stopped and gave this thoughts and
help to the ill, cheering the weary, helping the poor, and blindfolded
as he was, led the blind over the step he had just passed. So interested
did he become in these labors he forgot he was himself seeking the
Goddess.
It was but a little distance farther on that they caught up with Intu,
which was not surprising as he had reached the end of his path. It had
ended at a stone wall. As he could not scale the wall, he sat down to
reason "why an ordinary stone wall should obstruct such an extraordinary
path?" Being a very perplexing intellectual problem -there he remained.
A little farther and Kour was passed. He had encountered a radiant
maiden, partially veiled, who told him wondrous tales of strange
happenings. Her manner was very mysterious, and he felt she was the
Goddess. Taking her hand in his and leaning his head upon her bosom, he
was so happy that he knew she was the Goddess and there he remained to
dream.
And Kadmon, tarrying with the sorrowful and weary, felt the bandage slip
from his eyes, as the light from the rising sun streaming in red and
gold over the path fell upon and glorified the ragged wayfarers. In the
brilliance over their heads he read the words: "This way lies the path
to the Temple" while a soft voice breathed into his soul: "By the way of
Intu alone, the path is not found. By that of Kour alone, it is not
gained. Both wisely used in unison are guides, while on the road. By
something, which is greater than either, only, is the Temple reached.
Work on!:
And the sorrowful, taking in his own, the hands of the weary and weak,
passed on.
Rameses

Path, September, 1887

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