Theos-Talk Archives (December 2007 Message tt00039)

Hi Anton,

Your comments make sense to me.

> I sincerely hope and believe that we have evolved to the point where 
> we can use our intelligence and learn by observation not only by 
> experience. Do we really have to suffer enough before we decide to do 
> something? Do we really have to be as children and touch the fire and 
> burn ourselves over and over again to learn something or we can 
> intelligently observe the situation and decide to change our 
> behavior? 

Hope is a good thing, and certainly it seems reasonable to think that 
humanity must have evolved to the point by now when we wouldn't have 
to keep repeating the same old mistakes over and over. Viewed from 
the point of one lifetime, it may be interesting to look back and see 
how that idea might apply. Who among us could say that we learn from
intelligent observation? Or do we find that we have been addressing 
the same problem over and over in slightly adjusted guise? The result 
of that investigation might suggest the answer to the question. After 
all, we can't expect others to be better than we are. As above, so 
below, so everywhere. On the other hand, if we carry on 
fatalistically, assuming that we will never learn, then we surely 
never will. It might be a case of that eternal paradox, that two 
diametrically opposed opinions could both be true. It's all a matter 
of point of view. I, like you, prefer to believe that humanity can 
learn, is learning, has learned, and that the long dark tunnel of 
Kali Yuga is drawing to a close. How long? Who knows? What difference 
does it make? It is always darker just before the dawn. 
>> 
> So, we are obliged to do it! We know that we can make a difference. 
> So, why not to start at once? And I believe that very many are doing 
> just that. I do believe that the world is not as that shown on the 
> television. That it is already quite different but not yet on the 
> surface.

It is quite likely, in fact, that the surface appearance of modern 
culture, that popularly represented in the media etc., belongs more 
to the past than to the future. In fact, we might say that anything 
that tends toward producing fear, anxiety, selfishness, hatred, or 
greed belongs to the dark age passing on. That which represents hope, 
compassion, joy, courage, selflessness, and peace of mind and heart 
belongs to the Golden Age of Brotherhood dawning even now for those 
who have eyes to see. Indeed, as you say, let us start now to live in 
the Light and to reflect that Light of Love and Truth in our every 
conscious thought, word and deed. If it is true, as it was told at 
the turn of the 20th Century, that humanity had one short century to 
choose whether to work on the side of the Light or the side of the 
darkness, then it seems that at least a majority have chosen the 
Light. The war of the ages is already won on inner planes, we are 
told. It is our job to make it a reality on outer planes.

Thank you for the wonderful story. A perfect example of what we are 
talking about.

All the best, 
Adelasie

 There is a nice little story by Hans Christian Andersen, The 
> Snowdrop. It goes like that:
> 
> The snow lay deep, for it was winter-time. The winter winds blew 
> cold, but there was one house where all was snug and warm. And in the 
> house lay a little flower; in its bulb it lay, under the earth and 
> the snow. One day the rain fell and it trickled through the ice and 
> snow down into the ground. And presently a sunbeam, pointed and 
> slender, pierced down through the earth, and tapped on the bulb. 
> "Come in," said the flower. 
> "I can't do that," said the sunbeam; "I'm not strong enough to lift 
> the latch. I shall be stronger when springtime comes." 
> "When will it be spring?" asked the flower of every little sunbeam 
> that rapped on its door. But for a long time it was winter. The 
> ground was still covered with snow, and every night there was ice in 
> the water. The flower grew quite tired of waiting. 
> "How long it is!" it said. "I feel quite cramped. I must stretch 
> myself and rise up a little. I must lift the latch, and look out, and 
> say `good-morning' to the spring." 
> So the flower pushed and pushed. The walls were softened by the rain 
> and warmed by the little sunbeams, so the flower shot up from under 
> the snow, with a pale green bud on its stalk and some long narrow 
> leaves on either side. It was biting cold. 
> "You are a little too early," said the wind and the weather; but 
> every sunbeam sang: "Welcome" and the flower raised its head from the 
> snow and unfolded itself - pure and white, and decked with green 
> stripes. It was weather to freeze it to pieces, - such a delicate 
> little flower - but it was stronger than any one knew. It stood in 
> its white dress in the white snow, bowing its head when the snow- 
> flakes fell, and raising it again to smile at the sunbeams, and every 
> day it grew sweeter. 
> "Oh!" shouted the children, as they ran into the garden, "see the 
> snowdrop! There it stands so pretty, so beautiful - the first one!"