Theos-Talk Archives (May 2004 Message tt00047)

Tuesday, May 04, 2004

RE: Neuralsurfer wants to know.... 
UNIVERSAL RECORD OF EVERYTHING DONE

Dear Friends and T: 

Knowledge as statement of fact, or as a "picture" of an event
does exist p-- for everything.

Look at this IN THE THEOSOPHICAL GLOSSARY p. 190


"LIPI (Sk.) To write. See “Lipikas” in Vol. I. of the S D, pp.
104-5, 128-9,
 
LIPIKAS (Sk.). The celestial recorders, the “Scribes”, those who
record every word and deed, said or done by man while on this
earth. As Occultism teaches, they are the agents of KARMA—the
retributive Law." T Glos 190

----------------------------------

from the SECRET DOCTRINE Vol. 1 104-5


"The Lipi-ka, from the word lipi, "writing," means literally the
"Scribes."* 

Mystically, these Divine Beings are connected with Karma, the Law
of Retribution, for they are the Recorders or Annalists who
impress on the (to us) invisible tablets of the Astral Light,
"the great picture-gallery of eternity" — a faithful record of
every act, and even thought, of man, of all that was, is, or ever
will be, in the phenomenal Universe. 

As said in "Isis," this divine and unseen canvas is the BOOK OF
LIFE. As it is the Lipika who project into objectivity from the
passive Universal Mind the ideal plan of the universe, upon which
the "Builders" reconstruct the Kosmos after every Pralaya, it is
they who stand parallel to the Seven Angels of the Presence, whom
the Christians recognise in the Seven "Planetary Spirits" or the
"Spirits of the Stars;" for thus it is they who are the direct
amanuenses of the Eternal Ideation — or, as called by Plato, the
"Divine Thought." 

The Eternal Record is no fantastic dream, for we meet with the
same records in the world of gross matter. 

"A shadow never falls upon a wall without leaving thereupon a
permanent trace which might be made visible by resorting to
proper processes," says Dr. Draper. 

. . . "The portraits of our friends or landscape-views may be
hidden on the sensitive surface from the eye, but they are ready
to make their appearance as soon as proper developers are
resorted to. A spectre is concealed on a silver or a glassy
surface, until, by our necromancy, we make it come forth into the
visible world. Upon the walls of our most private apartments,
where we think the eye of intrusion is altogether shut out, and
our retirement can never be profaned, there exist the vestiges of
all our acts, silhouettes of whatever we have done." † 

Drs. Jevons and Babbage believe that every thought, displacing
the particles of the brain and setting them in motion, scatters
them throughout the Universe, and they think that "each particle
of the existing matter must be a register of all that has
happened." (Principles of Science, Vol. II. p. 455.) Thus the
ancient doctrine has begun to acquire rights of citizenship in
the speculations of the scientific world. 

The forty "Assessors" who stand in the region of Amenti as the
accusers of the Soul before Osiris, belong to the same class of
deities as the Lipika, and might stand paralleled, were not the
Egyptian gods so 

------------------------FOOTNOTES--------------------------------
--
 
* These are the four "Immortals" which are mentioned in Atharva
Veda as the "Watchers" or Guardians of the four quarters of the
sky (see ch. lxxvi., 1-4, et seq.). 

† "Conflict between Religion and Science." — Draper, pp. 132 and
133. 
-----------------------------------------------------

little understood in their esoteric meaning. The Hindu
Chitra-Gupta who reads out the account of every Soul's life from
his register, called Agra-Sandhani; the "Assessors" who read
theirs from the heart of the defunct, which becomes an open book
before (whether) Yama, Minos, Osiris, or Karma — are all so many
copies of, and variants from the Lipika, and their Astral
Records. Nevertheless, the Lipi-ka are not deities connected with
Death, but with Life Eternal. 

Connected as the Lipika are with the destiny of every man and the
birth of every child, whose life is already traced in the Astral
Light not fatalistically, but only because the future, like the
PAST, is ever alive in the PRESENT — they may also be said to
exercise an influence on the Science of Horoscopy. We must admit
the truth of the latter whether we will or not. For, as observed
by one of the modern adepts of Astrology, "Now that photography
has revealed to us the chemical influence of the Sidereal system,
by fixing on the sensitized plate of the apparatus milliards of
stars and planets that had hitherto baffled the efforts of the
most powerful telescopes to discover them, it becomes easier to
understand how our solar system can, at the birth of a child,
influence his brain — virgin of any impression — in a definite
manner and according to the presence on the zenith of such or
another zodiacal constellation."† S D I 104-5
 
---------------------------------

Thee is also this illustrative story:

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.

But 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

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


Our ability to see or hear or view such records may be varied.

Best wishes

Dallas

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

-----Original Message-----
From: thal
Sent: Tuesday, May 04, 2004 12:35 PM
To: 
Subject: Neuralsurfer wants to know....

Eye think it's quite probable that Knowledge is there to be Known
and 
to be "registered and utilized" just as "the ideal man of the
future" 
(?, yikes) can/will in all likelyhood both retain his
individuality
(own mind) and network - ie.... that seams to be, how the
progression 
proceeds.
     
The knowledge is not there so much to be known as to be
registered 
and utilized as needed. We are receiving stations and not 
warehouses IMHO. 

Really that is the ideal man of the future will not have a 
mind per se but use his brain as network that will link him up to
any 
idea at any time, just like the internet!
> 
> Netemara