The disciple who has the power of entrance, and is strong enough to pass each barrier, will, when the divine message comes to his spirit, forget himself utterly in the new consciousness which falls on him.  If this lofty contact can really rouse him, he becomes as one of the divine in his desire to give rather than to take, in his wish to help rather than be helped, in his resolution to feed the hungry rather than take manna from Heaven himself.  His nature is transformed, and the selfishness which prompts men’s actions in ordinary life suddenly deserts him.

IV

“BEFORE THE VOICE CAN SPEAK IN THE
PRESENCE OF THE MASTERS, IT MUST HAVE
LOST THE POWER TO WOUND.”

Those who give merely passing and superficial attention to the subject of occultism—­and their name is Legion—­constantly inquire why, if adepts in life exist, they do not appear in the world and show their power.  That the chief body of these wise ones should be understood to dwell beyond the fastnesses of the Himalayas, appears to be a sufficient proof that they are only figures of straw.  Otherwise why place them so far off?

Unfortunately, Nature has done this and not personal choice or arrangement.  There are certain spots on the earth where the advance of “civilization” is unfelt, and the nineteenth century fever is kept at bay.  In these favored places there is always time, always opportunity, for the realities of life; they are not crowded out by the doings of an inchoate, money-loving, pleasure seeking society.  While there are adepts upon the earth, the earth must preserve to them places of seclusion.  This is a fact in nature which is only an external expression of a profound fact in super-nature.

The demand of the neophyte remains unheard until the voice in which it is uttered has lost the power to wound.  This is because the divine-astral life[A] is a place in which order reigns, just as it does in natural life.  There is, of course, always the center and the circumference as there is in nature.  Close to the central heart of life, on any plane, there is knowledge, there order reigns completely; and chaos makes dim and confused the outer margin of the circle.  In fact, life in every form bears a more or less strong resemblance to a philosophic school.  There are always the devotees to knowledge who forget their own lives in their pursuit of it; there are always the flippant crowd who come and go—­of such, Epictetus said that it was [as] easy to teach them philosophy as to eat custard with a fork.  The same state exists in the super-astral life; and the adept has an even deeper and more profound seclusion there in which to dwell.  This place of retreat is so safe, so sheltered, that no sound which has discord in it can reach his ears.  Why should this be, will be asked at once, if he is a being of such great powers as those say who believe in his existence?  The answer seems very apparent.