concerning these places. They are actually more closely related to my
world than to yours. There's a lot of strange things in Thoughtformland.
They are created by the thoughts of mortals. You see, as a mortal idly
allows a certain thought or emotion to dominate his consciousness, a
change takes place in his overall vibration. After that thought or
feeling is gone, his body returns to its normal vibration again;
however, his normal vibration is now slightly changed to reflect that
last thought, and it becomes easier to entertain that thought again.
That is why, when someone begins to think of evil-doing or committing a
certain crime, it's usually not too long before he actually commits the
crime. His vibration is a somewhat changed vibration than before the
thought. That thought, in effect, has taken form in his consciousness.
Since the thinker has exercised little control over his thoughts -- or,
let's say, the emotion that accompanies a particular thought -- it
becomes easier for him to yield to that same thought again and again,
and, each time he does, his changed vibration becomes more permanent,
making it easier and easier for that thought to return and take hold.
Before long, the thought is as much a part of him as anything else -- it
is now part of his personality. Carrying out the physical activity that
the thought portrayed is quite a normal thing for him to do. The thought
form which he has created by these constant thoughts attracts to itself
similar thoughtforms created by others. These forms all influence the
thinker so much that he cannot at this point resist. He is now more or
less under the control of a force that he himself, with others, has
created. He is no longer master of himself, but is a slave of his
overall thoughts. So watch your thoughts. Keep them pure and loving;
never allow them to dwell on wrong-doing. And, if one of those W.T.s
does come into your head, sweep him out the door and tell him don't come
back."
"What's a W.T.?" asked the Scarecrow.
"Wrong Thought, my boy, Wrong Thought," said the Elf. "And, if someone
else tries to put one in your head, pay not the slightest attention,
just smile to yourself knowingly and walk away.
"Well, I really must go now," said the Elf. "But, before I do, here's a
little poem on the subject of being careful of your thoughts:"
BE CAREFUL
Be careful of your thoughts
For your thoughts become your words,
Be careful of your words
For your words become your actions.
Be careful of your actions
For your actions become your habits.
Be careful of your habits
For your habits become your character.
Be careful of your character
For your character becomes your destiny.
"That really sums it all up beautifully," said Dorothy. "Who wrote that?
"I'm afraid the author is unknown," replied the Elf.
"Well, he must have been very wise, whoever he was," answered Dorothy.
"And thank you so much for everything. You have helped us a great deal.
Oh!" she exclaimed.
"What's the matter?" asked the Elf.
"You were going to tell us about Americanindianland?" the girl reminded him.
"Oh, yes, of course," replied the Elf. "But before I do, I should tell
you a little story about pets. I think you'll like this, it encompasses
some of what I have told you. The story is called /The Rainbow Bridge/."
There is a bridge connecting heaven and earth.
It is called the Rainbow Bridge because of its many colors. Just
this side of the Rainbow Bridge is a land of meadows, hills and valleys
-- all of it covered with lush green grass.
When a beloved pet dies, the pet goes to this lovely land. There is
always food and water and warm spring weather. There, the old and
frail animals are young again. Those who are maimed are made whole
once again. They play all day with each other, content and comfortable.
There is only one thing missing. They are not with the special
person who loved them on earth. So each day they run and play until the
day comes when one suddenly stops playing and looks up! The nose
twitches! The ears are up! The eyes are staring! You have been seen, and
that one suddenly runs from the group!
You take him or her in your arms and embrace. Your face is kissed
again and again and again. And you look once more into the eyes
of your trusting pet. Then, together, you cross the Rainbow Bridge,
never again to be separated.
As the story came to a close, everyone was crying. "Oh, how beautiful!"
cried Dorothy. "If only all the children of the world who have lost a
pet could hear this. Although their sadness would still be great because
of their loss, they would know that their pet is not really dead, and
that their separation is only for a little while."
"I knew you would enjoy hearing this special tale," replied the Elf.
"Now let's see.... What else were we going to discuss? Oh yes,
Americanindianland." He closed his eyes and smiled happily while shaking
his head slowly. "I haven't been there, but I know all about it."
"Is it dangerous?" asked Dorothy, anxiously.
"Dangerous?" echoed the Elf. "My goodness, no! Just the opposite! You
will be very warmly received in that land. Only good Indians live there,
and most Indians were good, in spite of what the white man believed.
Americanindianland is the happy hunting ground mentioned often by the
Indians. The Indians, as you know, lived very close to nature. The white
man believed them to be savages, but the Indian, in many ways, was far
more advanced than the white man who came to show him the way. And
because of the Indian's closeness to the earth and attunement with
nature, he is well suited to working with and helping mortals. Many of
you have unseen Indian guides who protect you and help you in many
different ways. They enjoy this work, and it helps them with their own
advancement. Haven't you ever lost something, then found it in a place
you've already looked?"
Dorothy nodded. "Yes, that has happened to me. I just assumed that I
only thought I'd looked there before, or just hadn't noticed it there."
"Well, if you're not sure if you have an Indian guide, ask when you are
in a quiet state to be assigned to one, then see if you can pick up his
name and tribe."
"Who assigns the Indian guides?" asked Dorothy.
"Sitting Bull is in charge of that," answered the Elf. "He works with
the High teachers. This work keeps him very busy, as you can imagine. Of
course, he lives in Americanindianland with all the guides. The guides
are made up from every tribe there is. They are wonderful beings and
have a great sense of humor. I hope you get to meet Sitting Bull. He is
a beautiful illumined soul.
"Well, I really must be going this time," said the Elf. "Good luck to
you all," he said as he waved goodbye.
Dorothy said to the others, "I'm looking forward to seeing
Americanindianland, but I'm not so sure about Thoughtformland." They all
nodded in agreement. Suddenly, from out of nowhere, came a loud scream.
As they looked up, a chill ran through them all. It was the Wicked Witch
of the Deep South, swooshing down on them on her broomstick.
"So, my pretty," she screamed at Dorothy. "Are you coming to kill me,
too? Who's going to do it? Your scraggly stuffed friend?" She pointed
her finger at the Scarecrow, and bolts of lightning shot from her
fingers to explode around him. "Or maybe your brave little pussy-cat!"
she said mockingly, as she did the same thing to the Lion and made him
jump. "Or what about your tin-can friend?" she whined, shooting a bolt
of lightning above the Tin Woodman's head and creating a miniature
cloudburst over him, making him jump clear to escape the water. "I'll be
waiting for you, my little pretty," she screamed at Dorothy. "That's if
you ever get through Thoughtformland. All my thoughts live there, you
know. And they just can't wait for your arrival." She burst into squeals
of horrible laughter as she made a final swoop over their heads and
disappeared over the treetops. Everyone was shivering with fright.
"Why-why, th-th-that o-old b-b-biddy," stuttered the Tin Woodman.
"Who-who does she th-think she is?"
"She called me a pussy-cat!" said the Lion angrily. "I'll show her!" he
said, putting up his paw-fists in a mock-fighting stance. He pranced
around, shadow-boxing, making Dorothy laugh. Her laughter eased the
tension somewhat, although they were all rather apprehensive about
continuing their journey toward Thoughtformland.
"If you'd rather not go on, Dorothy," the Tin Woodman said, hesitantly.
"Oh, no!" said Dorothy. "Love is stronger than hate. We will overcome.
If we return now, the witch will have won. Evil will have overcome, and
fear will be a part of your daily lives again. We must talk to the
Wicked Witch. We must reason with her."
"T-t-talk to her?" stammered the Scarecrow.
"Reason with her!" exclaimed the Tin Woodman.
"Do you know what you're saying, Dorothy?" said the Lion. "I knew one of
the Winkies who used to work for her sister, and he told me that when
this one used to come and visit her, she would rant and rave and scream
and yell the whole time she was visiting. Nobody could just talk to her.
Of course, her sister was just as bad. They were quite a pair together.
I don't see how you could talk to her."
"Not only that," interceded the Scarecrow. "This one holds Dorothy
responsible for the death of her sisters."
"But it was an accident!" said Dorothy. "I had no control over where the
cyclone chose to plop my house down, and when I threw the bucket of
water over the other sister I was as surprised as anyone that the water
melted her away. Everyone knows I'm completely innocent"
"Everyone but her," said the Tin Woodman. "She believes that you killed
her sisters on purpose. She wants revenge, there's no question about that."
"Oh, dear," said Dorothy, sitting down on a rock and cupping her head in
her hands. "What are we going to do?"
"There, there. Don't be discouraged," said the Lion, putting his paw on
Dorothy's shoulder. "We must have courage, and trust that somewhere
within the murky depths of her being there is a spark of goodness not
yet dead that can be kindled into a glowing ember."
"You're right," said Dorothy, standing up briskly. "If we give up now,
we would never forgive ourselves; we must give it all we've got and
forget our fears, like Daniel in the lions' den."
*
Chapter Sixteen:
Thoughtformland
*
"I'm trying to imagine what Thoughtformland is like," said the Tin
Woodman as they continued their journey.
"The Wicked Witch said that all of her thoughts were here," said the
Scarecrow.
"If thoughts have forms, what kind of shape must her thoughts be in?"
said the Lion half to himself.
"What did you say?" said Dorothy.
"I said," repeated the Lion, "If the thoughts have forms, what kind of
shape must her thoughts be in?"
"Which might apply to us all," said Dorothy.
"What?" asked the Lion. "What did you say?"
"I said," replied Dorothy, beginning to sing:
"If thoughts are things that go bump in the night,
what kind of thoughts do you think are right?
What kind of thoughts do you think to yourself?
What kind of thoughts will you think tonight?"
Everyone joined in to repeat the last line:
"What kind of thoughts will you think tonight?"
Dorothy began again:
"If thoughts are things that can give you a fright,
What kind of thoughts will you bring to sight?
What kind of thoughts do you think to yourself?
What kind of thoughts will you think tonight?"
Again everyone joined in:
Ohhh... What kind of thoughts will you think tonight?
The Lion said, "Let me make one up:
If thoughts have wings and can fly away,
what kind of thoughts are you thinking today?"
"Very good!" said Dorothy, as they all chimed in:
"What kind of thoughts are you thinking today?"
"Let me try," said the Scarecrow:
"If thoughts are things that can zip and zoom,
what kind of thoughts do you think in your room?"
They all sang at the top of their voices:
"What kind of thoughts do you think in your room?"
By now, everyone was in rare humor. "I've got a good one," said the
Tin Woodman:
"If the thoughts of witches are jagged and sharp,
what kind of thoughts do they think after dark?"
"Wonderful!" exclaimed Dorothy. "Now everyone," she shouted,
waving her arms:
"Ohhh... What kind of thoughts do they think after dark?"
"How about this for the last verse?" said the Scarecrow:
"If you think a thought that you do not like,
the shape of that thought must be a horrible sight!
What kind of thoughts do you think to yourself?
What kind of thoughts will you think tonight?"
Everyone sang the last line really loud:
"What kind of thoughts will you think tooo-night?"
"Well, we certainly cheered ourselves up, said Dorothy.
Just then, they came upon a clearing. In the middle of the clearing was
a large sign, and beyond the sign, huge iron gates loomed. They were set
within a massive stone wall. As they approached the sign, they could
make out large gothic letters which read:
BEWARE ALL YE WHO ENTER THE LAND OF THOUGHTS
FOR EACH AND EVERY THOUGHT THOU THINKETH,
A THOUSAND LIKE SHALT DESCEND UPON THINE HEAD.
"Oh, my!" Dorothy said. "We'd better think the nicest thoughts we can
think of."
As they approached the gate, the Lion began to chant:
"Better think nice -- sugar and spice."
The others quickly joined in:
"Better think nice -- sugar and spice."
Dorothy gingerly touched the big iron gate. It swung open easily. "Well, here we go," she said. The little group chanted faster and faster:
"Better think nice -- sugar and spice.
Better think nice -- sugar and spice."
They looked about them as they chanted. There were flowers and trees
everywhere -- and, of all things, a yellow brick road. A sign said:
STAY ON THE PATH AND THINK OF
GOLDEN YELLOW DAFFODILS.
"Well, that sounds like sage advice," said Dorothy as she walked towards
the path. To the right of the path were little signs which said things
like:
SHARING AND CARING
ARE WAYS TO BE
DARING
KINDNESS AND LOVE
ARE THINGS FROM ABOVE
LOVE IS ETERNAL
AND NEVER INFERNAL
On the left side of the path were negative signs which read such things as:
JOY AND COMPASSION
ARE OUT OF FASHION
TAKING AND HATING
GET A HIGH RATING
Circling all around the negative signs on the left were ugly blobs of
dirty reds and grays, and dull brownish greens flecked with scarlet.
Some of the blobs were dirty brownish yellow with streaks of orange and
black. All of the blobs had hooks around them. Some of the larger blobs
descended and sat on the edges of the boards. Dorothy could almost see
eyes in them glaring at her hatefully. She turned her head quickly to
the positive signs on her right. Beautiful little forms were dancing and
twinkling around them. The forms were made up of the prettiest, most
delicate colors. Dorothy could feel a tremendous radiation of love
emanating from them.
"Keep your eyes on the right," she told everyone. "And keep your
thoughts pure. I have a feeling that these ugly things are just waiting
for us to think a bad thought so they can attack us."
Someone started to chant again: /"Better think nice /--/ sugar and
spice.... Better think nice /--/ sugar and spice...."/
"I hope that awful witch doesn't come here," said Dorothy. "I just hate
her."
The minute Dorothy had the hateful thought, hundreds of evil blobs flew
at her screaming the most terrible piercing scream she had ever heard.
Their hooks extended out, trying to grab hold of her and attach
themselves to her. Some hooked onto her sweater and to her hair. Dorothy
squealed hysterically. Her arms were flying about, trying to get them
off of her.
"Dorothy! Dorothy!" said the Tin Woodman. "Don't show fear." But it was
too late. From the sky came hordes of grayish darts, like fragments from
exploding rocks. Everyone raised their arms to try to shield themselves.
Following the darts came the dreaded cackles of the Wicked Witch on her
broomstick. The sky was filled with her piercing screams of horrible
laughter.
"Well, my pretty, what say you now, eh?" She screamed again as she flew
about them. Large jagged crimson red spikes flew from her hands towards
them, also ugly blobs of brownish gray with red spikes sticking out.
From her eyes shot slithering snake-like pointed shapes with colored
stripes of dirty green and yellow and muddy orange. They writhed about,
trying to stick their sharp points into Dorothy's feet.
"Quick now," said the Tin Woodman. "Close your eyes and think nice
thoughts."
Dorothy closed her eyes and thought of Aunt Em and Uncle Henry, and Toto
and the little one-room farmhouse. A great love arose from within her
and poured out to them. The minute this happened, a beautiful white
light appeared around the little group huddled together. All of the
horrible blobs flew back to their signs, while the barbs that had come
from the Wicked Witch turned around and sped like bullets back towards
her. Now it was her turn to scream with fright. She motioned her legs as
if she were riding a bicycle and pedaled as fast as she could to try to
get away. But the blobs caught up with her, hooking onto her clothes.
One hooked her large nose. The snake-like shapes attached themselves to
her behind with their pointed heads. She pedaled furiously off into the
distance, grabbing at them, trying to pull them off. Everyone roared
with laughter.
"Don't forget," the Lion said, when the laughter had subsided, "what
that first sign said: /Think golden yellow daffodils/."
So they all closed their eyes and imagined that they were surrounded by
golden yellow daffodils. When they opened their eyes again, they were
amazed to see miles of golden daffodils all around them.
"I have a feeling we are out of Thoughtformland," said the Tin Woodman.
Everyone heaved a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness," said Dorothy. "That
was too much."
*
Chapter Seventeen:
Americanindianland
*
As they walked through the daffodils, everyone felt immensely cheerful.
They were chatting away about this and that, when the Scarecrow spotted
smoke signals in the distance. "Look," he said, pointing.
"It must be Americanindianland," said the Tin Woodman excitedly.
"Oh, I'm so looking forward to this," said Dorothy, as the beat of the
tom-toms and the chant of the Indians' singing reached her ears. When
they reached the camp, they were not surprised to see the traditional
Indian scene of teepees with skins drying and dogs barking and such. The
squaws and papooses and braves and chiefs were gathered around in a big
circle in which a group of dancers was singing and chanting.
When Dorothy's party arrived, a beautiful majestic chief motioned them
to come and sit by him while the proceedings continued. And what a sight
to behold -- chiefs in full head dress from every tribe: Cherokee,
Shawnee, Apache, Hopi, Navaho -- every single one. Dancers representing
each tribe were performing their ceremonial dances.
"Dis celebration." said the chief in a deep booming voice, and in what
must have been the broken English of his time. "Dis celebration," he
repeated, as he waved his hand slowly over the dancers, "in your honor.
We," he said, placing his fist upon his chest, "know de work dat you do.
Indian not like evil. Indian help good people."
As the celebration drew to a close, the chief motioned everyone to
follow. "We have pow-wow," he said. The Indians formed a circle and
passed the Peace Pipe. The low rhythm beat of a drum could be heard in
the distance. "Not all Indian here in happy hunting ground," said the
chief. "Not all Indian good. Same as not all white man bad to Indian.
"Many t'ousand years, Indian lived free in his land. When white man
come, Indian give hand in friendship. White man look down on Indian,
call him savage, take his land. Torture, murder Indian. Indian suffer
great loss of self-respect -- lose spiritual ways.
"Before white man come, Indian spend many hour each day with Great
Spirit. Indian very close to nature, could cure much disease. White man
call it work of Devil, force Indian into white man's religion. Many
Indians become savages to protect land, women, children. Copy white
man's ways, do bad t'ings."
Dorothy said, "I really feel bad for all this. My people; my race; they
did these terrible things."
"Do not feel bad, Dorot'y," the chief said. "All t'ings in order. We do
not feel revenge. Dis not way of Great Spirit. De Great One do not
punish evil ones, only bring dem to greater understanding. Dey dat do
evil to other, do same t'ing to self. Not know it at time, must suffer,
before can learn better way. When sick of suffering, will turn face to
Great One. De great sun shine on all de same. When face turn to great
sun, feel warmth from great light. When man listen to heartbeat of Great
Spirit, life energy from Great Spirit make heart strong. Man become
strong in all t'ings, and de Great Spirit make path for moccasins to
follow. But, if man turn face away from Great Spirit and not listen to
heartbeat of Great One, own heart become weak -- moccasins walk in
circle. De Great Spirit not want man be lost or to suffer. When man fret
and worry, have fears; feel hatred of peoples, his environment; dis
cause much sickness of body and mind. Must learn harmony and inner peace
through communication with Great One. World is great big schoolroom; all
peoples equal but have different lessons to learn. Do not rebel or run
away from lesson -- will not learn, only make harder. Must be like de
corn and bend wit' de wind. Be brave; look for lesson in all
experiences. Learn lesson well; one day you graduate. Much happiness and
rejoicing. You become master and teacher. No more suffering, ever.
"Now I take you to Sitting Bull. He find big chief to be your guide. My
name is White Spirit."
"I feel very privileged to know you, White Spirit," said Dorothy.
"T'ank you, my child," said the chief. "But de privilege all mine."
Everyone stood. "Sitting Bull come now," White Spirit said.
Everyone turned to see a most majestic being in their midst. He seemed
to come from nowhere. Sitting Bull walked over to Dorothy. He motioned
everyone to be seated again. "I'm sorry I couldn't be here to welcome
you, Dorothy. But I was required to attend a rather important conference
on the seventh level of the ANIM world with the master teachers." Seeing
the quizzical look on Dorothy's face, the chief explained, "Where you
are now is only one level of our world. There are levels both below and
above the level, and within each level are many divisions -- as you may
already know. Each level of the ANIM world is made up by the collective
minds of the inhabitants."
"You mean it's not real?" asked Dorothy with some surprise.
"On the contrary," said Sitting Bull kindly. "Don't you know that mind
is all there is? One's present environment is brought into manifestation
by mind. Even your dreamworld is very real and solid to you while you
are dreaming: It is only when you awake from your dream that you realize
it wasn't your normal reality. But while you are there, it's as real as
anywhere; in fact, while you are dreaming you usually have no
recollection of your normal waking life, so that dreamworld appears to
be your normal existence. It is only when you awaken that it becomes a
vague shadow of fragmented memories and experiences which usually don't
make much sense. After your so-called normal life is over, it too will
seem like some vague dream to you. Your real life is yet to be lived;
your present mortal world may be likened unto a shadow. The reality of
the ANIM world is unmistakable in comparison. Look around you on this
present level." The chief waved his hand. "Every detail is ten times
more alive than in your world.
"You're so right," said Dorothy. "Kansas is so drab and gray. "But
Kansas can be very pretty, especially in the spring."
"Yes, indeed," said Sitting Bull. "It only becomes so drab and gray to
you when compared to the intensity of Oz, for example. Everything is
relative, you see. If you had lived in Oz all your life and, unknown to
you, there was another land ten times as pretty, Oz would look just fine
to you until you visited that other land."
"I see what you mean," said Dorothy.
"Now for the business at hand," said Sitting Bull. "The assignment of
your guide: Let me see," he said, thumbing through a little black book.
"Ah, yes. I have a fine guide for you. His name is White Feather. He is
a Cherokee chief. He will join us soon. Now, young lady," continued
Sitting Bull, "I want you to know that I've been aware of you for some
time."
"You have?" replied Dorothy.
"Yes, indeed," said the Chief. "Do you remember studying my life at
school in your history lessons?"
"Yes, I do," replied Dorothy. "I remember very well."
"Well, when you were reading about my murder at the hands of the
soldiers, tears came into your eyes. The great love and compassion you
felt at that moment, I felt immediately and came at once to you. I put
my arms around you to comfort you, and you began to feel better. Of
course, you couldn't see or hear me, but nevertheless I was there."
"I did feel something, I did," said Dorothy. "It was like an electric
current around me. A sort of vibration."