consciousness whatever remains in it of disparaging, suspicious
judgment of our fellow-men, brings us nearer to the knowledge of higher
things. And we rise rapidly when, in such moments, we fill our
consciousness with only those thoughts that evoke admiration, respect,
and veneration for men and things. He who has experience in these
matters will know that in every such moment powers are awakened in man
which otherwise would remain dormant. In this way the spiritual eyes of
a man are opened. He begins to see things around him which hitherto he
was unable to perceive. He begins to understand that hitherto he had
seen only a part of the world around him. The man with whom he comes in
contact now shows him quite a different aspect from that which he
showed before. Of course, through this single rule of life, he will not
yet be able to see what has elsewhere been described as the human aura,
because, for that, a still higher training is necessary. But he may
rise to that higher development if he has previously had a thorough
training in devotion.[6]
[6] In the last chapter of the book entitled _Theosophie_
(Berlin, C. A. Schwetschke und Sohn), Dr. Rudolf Steiner
fully describes this "Path of Knowledge;" here it is only
intended to give some practical details.
Noiseless and unnoticed by the outer world is the following of the
"Path of Discipleship." It is not necessary that anyone should observe
a change in the disciple. He performs his duties as hitherto; he
attends to his business as usual. The transformation goes on only in
the inner part of the soul, hidden from outward sight. At first the
entire soul-life of a man is flooded by this fundamental spring of
devotion for everything which is truly venerable. His entire soul-life
finds in this devotional mood its pivot. Just as the sun, through its
rays, will vivify everything living, so in the life of the disciple
this reverence vivifies all the perceptions of the soul.
At first it is not easy for people to believe that feelings like
reverence, respect, and so forth, have anything to do with their
perceptions. This comes from the fact that one is inclined to think of
perception as a faculty quite by itself, one that stands in no relation
to what otherwise happens in the soul. In so thinking, we do not
remember that it is the soul which perceives. And feelings are for the
soul what food is for the body. If we give the body stones in place of
bread its activity will cease. It is the same with the soul.
Veneration, homage, devotion, are as nutriment which makes it healthy
and strong, especially strong for the activity of perception.
Disrespect, antipathy, and under-estimation, bring about the starvation
and the withering of this activity. For the occultist this fact is
visible in the aura. A soul which harbors the feelings of devotion and
reverence, brings about a change in its aura. Certain yellowish-red or
brown-red tints will vanish, and tints of bluish-red will replace them.
And then the organ of perception opens. It receives information of
facts in its environment of which it hitherto had no knowledge.
Reverence awakens a sympathetic power in the soul, and through this we
attract similar qualities in the beings which surround us, that would
otherwise remain hidden. More effective still is that power which can
be obtained by devotion when another feeling is added. One learns to
give up oneself less and less to the impressions of the outer world,
and to develop in its place a vivid inward life. He who darts from one
impression of the outer world to another, who constantly seeks
dissipations, cannot find the way to Occultism. Neither should the
disciple blunt himself to the outer world; but let his rich inner life
point out the direction in which he ought to lend himself to its
impressions. When passing through a beautiful mountain district, the
man with depth of soul and richness of emotion has different
experiences from the man with few emotions. Only what we experience
within ourselves reveals the beauties of the outer world. One man sails
across the ocean, and only a few inward experiences pass through his
soul; but another will then hear the eternal language of the
world-spirit, and for him are unveiled the mysteries of creation.
One must have learned to control one's own feelings and ideas if one
wishes to develop any intimate relationship with the outer world. Every
phenomenon in that outer world is full of divine splendor, but one must
have felt the Divine within oneself before one may hope to discover it
without. The disciple is told to set apart certain moments of his daily
life during which to withdraw into himself, quietly and alone. At such
times he ought not to occupy himself with his own personal affairs, for
this would bring about the contrary of that at which he is aiming.
During these moments he ought rather to listen in complete silence to
the echoes of what he has experienced, of what the outward world has
told him. Then, in these periods of quiet, every flower, every animal,
every action will unveil to him secrets undreamed of, and thus will he
prepare himself to receive new impressions of the external world, as if
he viewed it with different eyes. For he who merely desires to enjoy
impression after impression, only stultifies the perceptive faculty,
while he who lets the enjoyment afterwards reveal something to him,
thus enlarges and educates it. He must be careful not merely to let the
enjoyment reverberate, as it were; but, renouncing any further emotions
of joy, begin to work upon his pleasurable experiences with an inward
activity. The danger at this point is very great. Instead of working
within one-self, it is easy to fall into the opposite habit of
afterward trying to completely exhaust the enjoyment. Let us not
undervalue the unforeseen sources of error which here confront the
disciple. He must of necessity pass through a host of temptations, each
of which tends only to harden his Ego and to imprison it within itself.
He ought to open it wide for the whole world. It is necessary that he
should seek enjoyment, for in this way only can the outward world get
at him; and if he blunts himself to enjoyment he becomes as a plant
which cannot longer draw nourishment from its environment. Yet, if he
stops at the enjoyment, he is then shut up within himself, and will
only be something to himself and nothing to the world. However much he
may live within himself, however intensely he may cultivate his Ego,
the world will exclude him. He is dead to the world. The disciple
considers enjoyment only as a means of ennobling himself for the world.
Pleasure to him is as a scout who informs him concerning the world, and
after having been taught by pleasure he passes on to work. He does not
learn in order that he may accumulate wisdom as his own treasure, but
in order that he may put his learning at the service of the world.
In all forms of Occultism there is a fundamental principle which must
not be transgressed, if any goal at all is to be reached. All occult
teachers must impress upon their pupils that, _Every branch of
knowledge which you seek only to enrich your own learning, only to
accumulate treasure for yourself, leads you away from the Path; but all
knowledge which you seek for working in the service of humanity and for
the uplifting of the world brings you a step forward_. This law must be
rigidly observed; nor is one a genuine disciple until he has adopted it
as the guide for his whole life. In many occult schools this truth is
expressed in the following short sentence: _Every idea which does not
become an ideal for you, slays a power within your soul: every idea
which becomes an ideal creates within you a vital force_.
III
THE PATH OF DISCIPLESHIP
At the very beginning of his course the student is directed to the
_Path of Reverence_, and the development of the _inner life_. The
occult teaching also gives practical instructions by the observance of
which he may learn to follow that Path and develop that inner life.
These practical directions have no arbitrary basis. They rest on
ancient experience and ancient wisdom, and wheresoever the ways to
higher knowledge are marked out, they are of the same nature. All
genuine teachers of Occultism agree as to the essential character of
these rules, although they do not always express them in the same
words. This difference of expression is of a minor character, more
seeming than real, and is due to circumstances which need not be
mentioned here.
No teacher wishes, by means of such rules, to establish an ascendency
over other persons. He would not tamper with individual independence.
Indeed, no one respects and cherishes human individuality more than the
teachers of Occultism. It was said, in the first part of this book,
that the order which embraces all Initiates was surrounded by a wall,
and that two laws formed the principles by which it was upheld.
Whenever the Initiate leaves this enclosure and steps forth into the
world, he must submit to a third inviolable law. It is this: Keep watch
over each of your actions and each of your words, in order that you may
not hinder the free-will of any human being. Those who recognize that
genuine occult teachers are thoroughly permeated with this principle
will understand that they can add to their independence by the
practical directions which they are advised to follow.
One of the first of these rules may be thus expressed in our language:
"Provide for yourself moments of inward calm, and in these moments
_learn to distinguish between the real and the unreal_." I say
advisedly "expressed in our language," because originally all rules
and teachings of occult science were expressed in a symbolical
sign-language. Those who desire to master its whole scope and meaning
must first obtain permission to learn this symbolical language, and
before such permission may be obtained, it is necessary to have taken
the first steps in occult knowledge. This may be achieved by the
careful observance of such rules as are here given. The Path is open to
all who earnestly _will_ to enter it.
Simple, in truth and easy to follow, is the rule concerning moments of
inner calm; but it leads to the goal only when the pursuit is as
earnest and strict as the way is simple. It will, therefore, be stated
here, without further preamble, the method in which this rule should be
observed.
The student must mark off a small part of his daily life in which to
occupy himself with something quite different from the avocations of
his ordinary life, and the _way_ in which he occupies himself at such a
time must also differ from the way in which he performs the rest of his
duties. But this does not mean that what he does in the time thus set
apart has no connection with his daily work. On the contrary, the man
who seeks such moments in the right way will soon find that it is just
this which gives him full power to do his daily task. Nor must it be
supposed that the observance of this rule really deprives anyone of
time needed for the performance of his duties. _If any person really
has no more time at his disposal, five minutes a day will suffice._ The
real point is the manner in which these five minutes are spent.
At these periods a man should raise himself completely above his
work-a-day life. His thoughts and feelings must take on a different
coloring. His joys and sorrows, his cares, experiences, and actions,
must pass in review before his soul. And he must cultivate a frame of
mind which enables him to regard all his other experiences from a
higher point of view. We need only bear in mind how different is the
point of view from which in ordinary life we regard the experiences and
actions of another, and that from which we judge our own. This is
inevitable, for we are interwoven with our own actions and experiences,
while we only contemplate those of another. Our aim, in moments of
retirement, must be to contemplate and judge our own experiences and
actions, as though it were not ourselves but some other person to whom
they applied. Suppose, for example, that a certain misfortune has
befallen someone. What a different attitude that person takes towards
it as compared with an identical misfortune that has befallen his
neighbor! No one can blame this attitude as unjustifiable; it is a part
of human nature. And just as it is in exceptional circumstances, so it
is also in the daily affairs of life. The student must endeavor to
attain the power of regarding himself at certain times as he would
regard a stranger. He must contemplate himself with the inward calm of
the critic. When this is attained, our own experiences present
themselves in a new light. As long as we are interwoven with them and
are, as it were, within them, we are as closely connected with the
unreal as with the real. When we attain to a calm survey, the real is
separated from the unreal. Sorrow and joy, every thought, every
resolve, appear changed when we contemplate ourselves in this way. It
is as though we had spent the whole day in a place where we saw the
smallest objects at the same range of vision as the largest ones, and
in the evening climbed a neighboring hill and surveyed the whole scene
at once. Then the parts of the place take on proportions different from
those they bore when seen from within. The value of such calm inward
contemplation depends less on the actual thing we contemplate than on
the power which such inward calm develops in us.
For in every human being there is, besides what we call the work-a-day
man, a higher being. This higher being remains concealed until it is
awakened. And each of us can only awaken it for himself. But as long as
this higher being is not awakened, the higher faculties that might lead
to supersensual knowledge, must lie dormant or remain hidden in every
man. This power which leads to inward calm is a magic force that sets
free certain higher faculties. Until a seeker feels this magic force
within him, he must continue to follow strictly and earnestly the rules
given. To every man who thus perseveres, the day will come when a
spiritual light is revealed to him, and a whole new world, whose
existence was hitherto unsuspected, is discerned by an eye within him.
Because he begins to follow this rule, there is no need for any outward
change in the life of the student. He performs his duties as before,
and at first he endures the same sorrows and experiences the same joys
as of old. In no way does it estrange him from life, rather is he
enabled to devote himself to it the more completely, because in the
moments set apart he has a Higher Life of his own. Gradually this
Higher Life will make its influence felt on the ordinary life. The calm
of the moments set apart will influence his ordinary existence as well.
The whole man will grow calmer, will attain serenity in all his
actions, and will cease to be perturbed by all manner of incidents.
Gradually a student who thus advances will guide himself more and more,
and be less governed by circumstances and external influences. Such a
man will soon discover how great a source of strength lies for him in
these periods of contemplation. He will cease to be annoyed by things
that formerly worried him; and countless matters that once filled him
with fear will now cease to alarm him. He acquires a new outlook on
life. Formerly he may have taken up this or that task with a sense of
timidity. He would say: "I lack the power to do this as well as I could
wish." Now he no longer admits such a thought but, instead forms one
quite different. He says to himself: "I will summon all my strength in
order to do my work as well as I possibly can." And he suppresses the
thought which encourages timidity; for he knows that this very timidity
might spoil his undertaking, and that in any event it can contribute
nothing to the improvement of his labor. And thus one thought after
another, each fraught with advantage to his whole life, begins to
penetrate the student's outlook. They take the place of those which
gave a hampering and weakening effect. He begins to steer his own ship,
on a firm, secure course, among the waves of life, which formerly
tossed it helplessly to and fro.
And this calm and serenity react on the whole being. They assist the
growth of the inner man, and of those inner faculties which lead to
higher knowledge. For it is by his progress in this direction that the
student gradually attains to a state in which he himself determines the
manner in which the impressions of the external world shall affect him.
Thus, he may hear a word, spoken with the object of wounding or vexing
him. Before he began his occult studies it would indeed have been
painful or irritating. But now that he is in the Path of Discipleship,
he is able to take from it the sting or the power to hurt, even before
it enters his consciousness. Take another example: we naturally grow
impatient when we are kept waiting, but the student is so permeated, in
his moments of calm, with the realization of the uselessness of
impatience, that this calmness is present with him on every occasion.
The impatience which would naturally overcome him vanishes, and an
interval which would otherwise have been wasted in the expression of
impatience may be utilized by making some profitable observation during
the period of waiting.
Now we must realize the significance of these facts. We must remember
that the "Higher Being" in a man is in constant development, and only
the state of calm and serenity here described renders an orderly
development possible. The waves of outward life press in upon the inner
man from all sides, if, instead of controlling this outward life, he is
controlled by it. Such a man is like a plant which tries to expand in a
cleft in the rock, and is stunted in its growth until new space is
given it. No outward forces can supply space for the inner man; it can
only be supplied by the inner calm which he may give to his soul.
Outward circumstances can only alter the course of his outward life;
they can never awaken the spiritual inner man. The student must himself
give birth to the new and higher man within him.
The higher man becomes the "inner Ruler," who directs the circumstances
of the outer man with sure guidance. As long as the latter has the
upper hand, this inner man is enslaved, and cannot therefore develop
his powers. _If another than myself has the power to make me angry, I
am not master of myself_, or, to put it better, I have not yet found
"the Ruler within me." I must develop the power within, of letting the
impressions of the outer world approach me only in the way in which I
myself choose; then only do I really become an occult student. And only
by earnestly striving after this power can a student reach the goal. It
is not of so much importance to achieve a great deal in a given time,
as to be earnest in the search. Many have striven for years without
noticing any marked advance; but many of those who did not despair, and
struggled on undaunted, have sometimes quite suddenly achieved the
"inner victory."
In many situations it requires a good deal of effort to achieve these
moments of inward calm. But the greater the effort needed, the more
important is the achievement. In esoteric studies, everything depends
on the energy, inward truthfulness, and uncompromising sincerity with
which we contemplate ourselves and our actions from the standpoint of
complete strangers.
But only one side of the student's inner activity is characterized by
this birth of his own higher being. Something else in addition is
needed. Even if a man regards himself as a stranger, it is only himself
that he contemplates; he looks at those experiences and actions, with
which he is connected, through his particular mode of life, while it is
necessary for him to rise above this, and attain to a purely human
point of view, to be no longer connected with his own individual
circumstances. He must pass on to the contemplation of those things
which concern him as a human being, even though he dwell in a different
condition and different circumstances. In this way something is brought
to birth within him which rises beyond the personal point of view. Thus
his gaze is directed to higher worlds than those he knows in every-day
life. And then he begins to feel and realize that he belongs to these
higher worlds about which his senses and his daily occupations can tell
him nothing. In this way he shifts the central point of his being to
the inner part of his nature. He listens to the voices within him which
speak to him in his moments of calm; and inwardly he cultivates an
intercourse with the spiritual world, which removes him from the
every-day world, whose voices he no longer hears. Around him there is
silence. He puts away from him all his external surroundings, and
everything which even reminds him of such external impressions. His
entire soul is filled with calm, inward contemplation and converse with
the purely spiritual world. This calm contemplation must become a
necessity to the student. He is plunged completely into a world of
thought, and must develop an earnest desire for calm thinking. He must
learn to love the in-pouring of the spirit. Then he will learn to
regard this thought-world and its thought-forms as more real than the
every-day things which surround him, and he begins to deal with
thoughts as with things existing in space. And then the moment is at
hand when the revelations of his quiet thinking begin to seem much
higher and more real than the things existing in space. He discovers
that this thought-world is an expression of life, and realizes that
thoughts are not mere phantoms, but that through them, beings, who were
hidden before, now speak to him. He begins to hear voices through the
silence. Formerly his ear was the only organ of hearing; now he can
listen with his soul. An inner language and an inner voice are revealed
to him. It is a moment of supremest ecstasy to the student when this
experience first comes to him. An inner light floods the whole external
world for him, and he is "born anew." Through his being passes a
current from a divine world, bringing with it divine bliss.
This thought-life of the soul, which is gradually widened into a life
of spiritual being, is designated by the Gnosis and by Theosophy as
meditation (contemplative thought). This meditation is the means by
which supersensual knowledge is attained. But during such moments the
student must not be content to give himself up to the luxury of
sensation. He must not permit undefined feelings to take possession of
his soul. That would only hinder him from attaining true spiritual
knowledge. His thoughts must be clearly and sharply defined, and he
will be helped in this by not allowing himself to be carried away
blindly by the thoughts that spring up within him. Rather must he
permeate his mind with the lofty ideas which originated with advanced
students to whom inspiration has already come. Let him first of all
study the wisdom which originated in such moments of meditation. The
student will find such in the mystical, gnostic, and theosophical
literature of our time, and will there gain the material for his
meditation. Wise men have inscribed in these books the thoughts of
divine science, or have proclaimed them to the world through their
agents.
Such meditation produces a complete transformation in the student. He
begins to form entirely new conceptions of Reality. All things acquire
fresh values in his eyes. And it cannot be declared too often that this
transformation does not estrange him from the world nor keep him from
his daily round of duties. For he begins to realize that his most
insignificant actions or experiences are in close connection with the
great cosmic beings and events. When once this connection is revealed
to him in his moments of contemplation, he is endowed with fresher and
fuller power for his daily duties. For then he knows that his labor and
his suffering are given and endured for the sake of a great spiritual
cosmic whole. Thus, instead of weariness, his meditation gives him
strength to live.