Book Two. The Book of the Traveller of the Worlds
Canto I Canto II Canto III Canto IV
Canto V
Canto VI Canto VII Canto VIII
Canto IX
Canto X Canto XI Canto XII
Canto XIII Canto XIV
Canto XV
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Book Two: Canto VI The Kingdoms and Godheads of the Greater Life
Escaping from the anarchic world of lower life, Aswapathy enters the realms of greater life. The world he first steps into is an ineffectual one where there is but an intermittent will to live and no direction at all. He arrives at an indefinite tract where hope dares to be but is uncertain in its tenure. Life is in a strange state; she dreams and imagines but does not actually create yet. Beings are attracted to take birth into life but hold back on the verge. It is a world of enchantment but there is neither base nor goal. A greater creation follows. The will to life is manifested in a more substantial way. The inner Spirit impresses itself on the innumerable forms of life, there is a rhythm and beauty, a light and joy which however incomplete—bespeak a greater glory beyond. This realm exerts great influence upon the earth; the higher movements of life on earth are inspired from here. Here is the pattern to which human seeking points. An endless possibility is seen here climbing high on a ladder of dreams, from height to greater height. An energy is at work perpetually, though its results are transient, putting out forms, larger and larger. She tries by every means to regain the Bliss she has lost in the course of her devolution from her source in the supreme Spirit, but she fails to attain it. Though thus unable to achieve her ends, she strives on and on because she is impelled to do so by the Will of the Creator active in her. Her mission is to manifest the Unmanifest, to express the Eternal in terms of Time. All purposeful work is indeed done behind the veil. With her limited means she strives, fails, attempts again; the will to live persists and the myriad creation is projected. The greater Life is in pursuit of the Unseen, the Light beyond; she feels the Silence and the touch of the Grace from above. She is close to the heavens of the Gods, but also to the worlds of the demons. She hungers for expansion, for elevation, for perfection, and goes on creating to that end. She almost achieves her aim but falls short ultimately. Thus does Life exert herself and create on every plane of existence irrespective of the failures she may meet in the course of her toil. In whatever condition, she is productive in her labour. Even when she is apparently immobile, she works beneath the surface. In the utmost obscurity of Matter, she is still active. There is an Intelligence in her that guides, a Will that goads through darkness, non-sentience and inertia to an irresistible creative movement. Gradually sense, mind, heart, soul come into formation and the world-procession upborne by her assumes a meaning and direction. Life means to recapture her lost eternity. Life moves into action for the delectation of her Purusha. By a hundred means she seeks to hold his interest but he turns to his native state of immutable and formless peace. He is first asleep in her pro-founds; gradually she awakens him to consciousness. The world she builds is a net in which he is held. She is moved by a Knowledge that works under the cloak of Ignorance; she has a might that does the incredible. On the lower levels her workings hide their purpose, on the higher altitudes they are undisguised in their operations. But still, her forms are only tokens; the Truth is not yet concretely built; what is constructed is only a copy, a figure. This is the character of the world that opens before Aswapathy. It is lit by a Truth, but not the Truth manifest. There is a freer space and larger air; life is lived from a deeper level, not from the surface. Life is the leading power, with mind and body following her trail. The dimensions are cosmic and the self of each being embraces the universe. Each is growing larger and taller in consciousness, but there are also many who imprison themselves in the attained greatness. This world lies on the border of our mortal state. It inspires all great movements in the world below on earth and sets the patterns for formations below. In this world of greater Life there is an open confrontation between the true and the false, the good and the evil, and one is forced to make a choice between the hosts. The balance of values is other than that of earth: the inner determines the outer. All derives from the truth within. Sense is no barrier. The Mind, emotion and feeling of one are not divided from those of others, but commune and fuse into each other. There is a live interchange. Still the ultimate oneness is not there. A soul, if it so wishes, can shut itself from others. There is no real identity. The miracle of Inconscience has been indeed over-passed, but the miracle of Superconscience is still a mystery looming overhead. This is a kind of midterm between the two mysteries—an ambiguous life in an uncertain world. Aswapathy follows the trails of the greater Life. At first no aim is visible but only a wide source of all things, pointing to a still wider source. There is a stronger pull from the Unknown above, a mightier and vaster formation of the Life-Force. Yet much remains unrevealed. Aswapathy tries to scan the tangled design spread before him but loses himself repeatedly in the labyrinth of signs and patterns. A thousand faces of the Truth stare at him, voices speak to him, Ideas flash; he watches with amazement the appearance and disappearance of Life's hopes and joys and passions. He takes his poise in the Silence on the heights and sees Life losing herself in Infinity. He identifies himself closely with her so that he might learn the secrets of her soul. He is overpowered by her splendour and display of skill. But he sees also her being within that is disappointed at her failure to seize the truth. The Divine Beloved is still beyond. Aswapathy feels the presence of the Spirit in the forms built by Life, the Spirit from which she derives her strength. But he is unable to decipher the design in her vision, though he catches some hints at that high level of Life-existence. He follows her course towards some infinitude and reads her signs aright by intuitive flashes. All is a play of Life and Spirit, a game of hide and seek, gain and loss. The Spirit hopes to possess Life, but loses himself in her manifold play. Hopes and disappointments, joys and griefs, punctuate her routes. With all the pain and tears, however, it is a joy to live; for there is a Will behind each life; God has created everything on purpose. This element at the core gives meaning to Life, though she has wandered far away from her governing truth in her plunge down from her spiritual home. To manifest the Divine Reality was the mission with which Life was charged. But her performance has lagged behind her objective. She is not permitted to cease from her labours and she must endure, strive and move on. Life and the soul within her have no respite from the march. Each goal points to the next. Behind all effort, there is a memory of the lost glory and beyond all failures, there is a Splendour that beckons. Life is perpetually in toil to realise her dream. There is an abiding faith that a time must come when the Divine will respond to her Call and manifest His Verities of Truth, Beauty, Love and Bliss in Life's creations and restore her to her true immortal state. Till then her labours must continue, however vain, however fruitless they may seem and though her world appear a pointless mistake of the gods.
As one who between
dim receding walls Aswapathy's passage from the kingdoms of little life where everything is unsure, shifting, obscure and dull is like a journey through a dim tunnel. His pace quickens as he sights the distant gleam of the opening at the end and feels the breath of a fresh air. Thus he comes out of the dim, disorderly belt of the little life.
Into an ineffectual
world he came, The world into which he emerges has an air of fruitlessness. Things are trying to come to birth but their attempts succeed only partially. There is a willed effort to be but there is not enough strength to survive long.
Above there gleamed
a pondering brow of sky The air is thick with questionings. Nothing is yet certain. Life is on the move seeking a direction but not knowing where to turn, like souls who in the blindness of their ignorance have lost their identity and wander about looking for the truth of their existence in the strange worlds where they find themselves.
After denial dawned
a dubious hope, From the ubiquitous denial of everything in the worlds of lower life, Aswapathy passes into a realmwhere there is hope however uncertain it be. Here in the kingdoms of higher life there are possibilities of existence for forms, of birth for things which could not come to be so far, of joy for the mind in its probings, of freedom for the heart to choose, of unfailing delight in things, however uncertain they be, of the action of the Grace of God, unexpected and surprising.
To a strange
uncertain tract his journey came Things are still uncertain, though not denied the right to live. There is here a play of consciousness—what is unaware is acted upon to awake into awareness. But things take birth only to pass; they do not last, they can stay only briefly. However, even this birth into brief existence is a gain.
A charm drew near
that could not keep its spell, Here Beauty and Power from the higher regions attempt to enter and remain, but they are unable to do so as conditions are not ready for them to endure. It looks as if all moves by chance though there seems to be a mysterious order in that chance. Forms in their multitude come into endless being but they refuse to be determined. They are in their totality innumerable, but ultimately they amount to less than nothing.
Arriving at a large
and shadowy sense Here all is vague. Life strives under a vast shadow of uncertainty not knowing where she is drifting. The atmosphere is unfamiliar. There is an air of unreality. The bright light that nourishes her other realms is not here.
In worlds imagined,
never yet made true, It is a domain where dreams and imaginations play riot and prepare the ground for some eventual creation. But nothing concrete is achieved. All is at the enchanting stage of pre-formation where anything seems possible; the hard realities of the actual do not disturb this world of enchantment.
The marvels of a
twilight wonderland, In this realm of wonder there is a surge of movements—movements of Beauty and of Glory trying to formulate something of the divine Splendour of the veiled heights above. These powerful movements that attract the eye impart a sense of certainty to the helplessly drawn mind and pull the will towards them, though ultimately they achieve nothing definite.
A magic flowed as if
of moving scenes Things here keep on changing their indefinite contours against a background that is itself uncertain. The light is dim adding to the enchantment of the scene.
An infant glow of
heavens near to morn, It is not yet broad daylight. There is but the glow of dawn in the skies, holding the promise of the outbreak of flaming light, filling the air with expectation.
The perfect longing
for imperfection’s charm, Here come the truths of the Divine Being attracted by the possibilities of adventure into their opposites. What is perfect wishes to experience the novelty of imperfection; Knowledge seeks to sport with Ignorance; subtle existences want to embody themselves in gross forms; the Infinite wants to play the finite. But they are reluctant to go the whole way and pay the price of death for participation in creation.
The Children of the
unembodied Gleam All these are truths that have issued from the being of the Creative Soul in the wake of a perception, a certain possibility, and impelled by desire, kāma, to actualise that possibility. The Truth-vision creates the field for the Truth-perception to shape itself and the whole movement takes place in that developing field.
A will that
unpersisting failed, worked there: Here on this plane of life the will to live is not strong enough to persist against the contrary pulls of nature. It fails. Life is in search of something but she does not succeed in her object. There is no continuity of will.
There nothing
satisfied, but all allured, There is here no certainty, no satisfaction of fulfilment. All is compulsively attractive, seeming to be real but never actually so; images abound but they are only unsubstantial figures; symbols do not reveal but only veil what they stand for. It is a world of vague dreams that appears real to the dreamer.
The souls came there
that vainly strive for birth, Souls that come for embodiment cannot hope to achieve their purpose here. Entities and forces which are attracted to this scheme of life may stay here under its spell and strive for all time but the truth which bases their existence and is the justification of their being will not be found here.
All ran like hopes
that hunt a lurking chance; It seemed a realm of lives that had no base. All forces, all beings here are on the move hoping to catch some opportunity that may come by, as human hopes that persist, expecting chance favours, some time or other. Nothing here is concrete, nothing fulfilled, nothing fully true. All is precarious, more untrue than true; existence itself is a miracle, Lives there are but they have no firm standing-ground.
Then dawned a
greater seeking, broadened sky,
First came the
kingdom of the morning star: As Aswapathy proceeds he enters, under the spell of a gathering Force, into another belt of larger vistas, higher impulsions. First comes a realm of trembling light, beauteous and astir with hints of a wider manifestation of Life.
Then slowly rose a
great and doubting sun
A spirit was there
that sought for its own deep self, Then there breaks a greater and fuller light, which, however, is somewhat unsure of itself. In this light Life seeks to find her own real self and organise a world around it. But all that she succeeds in doing is to throw up fragmentary constructions which are far from the figure of her self, though eventually they could, in their totality, answer to its truth.
Yet something seemed to be achieved at last.
A growing volume of
the will to be, All the same there is here some definite advance towards achievement. There is a stronger impress of the will to exist, a bolder formulation of life and connected action. There is a greater expression of consciousness in forms—though its significances elude the grasp of thought—and an audibly pervading rhythm of the breath of Life.
In an outbreak of
the might of secret Spirit, To the outburst of the Power of the indwelling Spirit, there is a joyous response from Matter and Life, creating thereby an opportunity for a revelation of some aspect of the Beauty of the Eternal. This revelation gives a touch of immortality to the joy of life however momentary it may be. Beauty, Delight, Immortality follow in the wake of the plenary manifestation of the Divine Spirit in Life and Matter.
Some word that could
incarnate highest Truth There is also, in this dynamic situation, a finding of the exact expression in Word by the Truth seeking to manifest itself. It is only when the being is withdrawn from all dispersion and ingathered in concentration that the perfect Word capable of embodying the highest truth—mantra—is prepared and takes shape in the consciousness.
Some hue of the
Absolute could fall on life, Other verities of the Divine Reality also manifest. Some glowing aspect of the Absolute, as an illumination of knowledge, a vision of intuition, an intensity of the power of Love, play on Life, following an outbreak of the might of the secret Spirit.
A hierophant of the
bodiless Secrecy The active Will to manifest what is un-manifested begins to be more effective. It is this Will that forces the limited senses to extend their range beyond their habitual run of the gross and feel something of the subtler light and joy in existence. This unceasing Will finds here something of the peace of the ineffable Reality, something of the sweet longing welling from a. hidden Bliss at the root of things. It manifests partly the Reality behind the veil.
A soul not wrapped
into its cloak of mind It is possible for the soul here as it is not yet covered by the misleading and blinding mind—to perceive the real significance of this world of forms. A luminous vision informs its thought; a direct understanding in the heart rises up and it is able as a result, to grasp and hold in its spiritual poise the divine nature of this universe which is in fact a Figure of the Reality.
This realm inspires
us with our vaster hopes; This realm of greater life has its action on our earth. The larger movements, higher aspirations and strivings in our human world are inspired from there. Things from there cast their moulds here on earth and forces from there communicate their achieving power here. The mighty upsurges of our lives particularly are, as it were, the overflow of the coursings of the Life-movements in that realm above.
All that we seek for
is prefigured there All that we strive for here on earth is there, in that Life-realm, prepared and ready to be precipitated into the material world. There stands prefigured even what we are not aware of or have sought for, but which, nevertheless, has to be realised at some time or other for the fullness of the manifestation here of the Divine Reality.
Incarnate in the
mystery of the days, In the Eternal Being are endless possibilities. One of these possibilities which is sanctioned by theSupreme sets out on its career and this Creation is the result. It is a conscious movement of the Eternal pouring itself in Time, of the Infinite devolving into the finite. This devolution of the Higher into the lower term is one part of the movement; the evolution of the lower into the Higher, the ascent, is the other part of the possibility. The finite ascends into the Infinite up the evolutionary ladder that has no end.
All on that ladder mounts to an unseen end.
An Energy of
perpetual transience makes From the known all climbs to the Unknown. There is in action a mighty Life-Energy whose products may be of temporary duration but whose working is ceaseless in forging the path and effecting the ascent of evolutionary Nature to the summits of Existence that transcend the horizons of the mind. The journey is ever forward.
As if in her ascent
to her lost source This is in fact the ascent of Life to her own Source above, the citśakti, from which she has got separated in the course of the devolution of the Spirit. The ascent is also an unrolling, a manifestation of all that seeks to manifest. This movement proceeds systematically, step by step; from a lower light it climbs to a higher, from a restricted sight to a greater. The process develops from small and simple forms to the building of larger and more intricate forms. The way is strewn with the countless formations of Force and Thought thus created.
Her timeless Power
that lay once on the lap Before this movement of devolution and evolution begins, Life-Power lies at rest in the Being of the Eternal. Once she is released into action and in the course of the descent gets separated from her source in the Eternal's Consciousness-Force that is blissful, she tries to recapture what is lost. She goes on to rebuild, in the conditions of her fall, the pattern of those joys that were once natural to her.
Compelling transient
substance into shape, This Power of Life forces substances to shape into forms and in the very momentum of her creative advance registers certain leaps, saltus, over gulfs that cannot be bridged in the normal way. She attempts in several ways of contact, meeting and union to unite what has been severed. She strives for release into the freer heights of the Spirit from the limitations that have formed around her and curb her actions while they last. She strives also to gain something of the assured freedom of the Eternal even in the uncertainty of the workings of Time in this realm. Each plane of existence has its own Time with its own characteristic Time-action.
Almost she nears
what never can be attained; Almost she achieves the impossible. She imprisons Eternity in the flow of Time and concentrates the Infinite in the tiny soul at the heart of all living forms. In her meet Eternity and Time, the Infinite and the Finite.
The Immobile leans
to the magic of her call; Also meet in her and in her workings, the Immobile and the mobile; what is in movement is supported by the Moveless. Though she needs a boundary for the dynamis of her work, her field extends into the Boundless. She creates forms but is aware of the presence of the Formless Divinity in each form. With all her finite and finitising movements she feels palpably the Infinite upholding her.
Her task no ending
knows, she serves no aim There is no finale as such to the strivings of this labouring Power. She has no conscious, chosen aim before her. She is driven to labour by an undefined Will which is not her own but comes from another source, from a range of Being that breaks away from forms and cannot be known by the normal faculties.
This is her secret
and impossible task And this is the well-nigh impossible task set by the Will, this is the object the Life-Power is driven to achieve: to bind with birth the Reality that is without bounds; to embody the formless Spirit in a form of Matter; to formulate and express the Truth that in its innate nature is beyond formulation by mind and speech—'That from which mind and speech fall back unattaining' (Taittiriya Upanishad, 2.4.1.) In a word, to manifest the Reality that is unmanifest.
Yet by her skill the
impossible has been done: However impossible this task appears to be, it is being fulfilled by the Power at work. Her movements follow a profound plan which human reason cannot fathom or anticipate. She displays an endless skill in providing newer and newer forms to the Formless Infinite Reality that seeks to manifest, in revealing increasingly That which cannot be wholly imaged. She has succinctly captured Eternity in the flow of Time, made the Timeless manifest in terms of Time.
Even now herself she knows not what she has done. For all is wrought beneath a baffling mask: But the Life-Power is not overtly conscious of the significance of her achievement in the total scheme that is being worked out. What appears on the surface of life as a confused action is only a mask; behind that misleading exterior a meaningful work is being done by an Intelligence that directs from within.
A semblance other
than its hidden truth The appearance is that of an illusion; nothing seems to last, all is subject to the process and decay of time; an unreal masquerades as some real. There is ever a gap of incompleteness in this changing creation. But that is not the real truth. The truth of creation is yet hidden.
Insignificant her
means, infinite her work; The work before this Life-Power is vast and endless, but the means wherewith to execute it are paltry and limited in capacity. The ground on which she labours is an amorphous spread of consciousness and her puny instruments are the limited mind and the senses. The truth she is to manifest is endless and so is her work. Through her workings some Truth that is eternal and transcendent reveals itself in the field of Time.
The greatness she
has dreamed her acts have missed, There is indeed a big gap between what she aims at and what is actually realised. And yet she is seized with a passion to achieve. The intensity of her drive is at once her joy and her pain. She has no choice but to go on striving. The Will in her goads her on.
As long as the world
lasts her failure lives She may have failed to achieve the greatness aimed at, but the failure does not peter away. Whatever is achieved lasts, bewildering the calculations of Reason, indescribable in its beauty, however purposeless it may seem,—an exciting essay of the will to be, a bold phantasy of the delight of Life.
This is her being’s
law, its sole resource; This is the very nature of the Life-Power. She gives in reckless profusion but no contentment is there. She is ever at work to produce and throw up more and more varieties of forms, countless figures of the Reality that is One. The fiction is the sense of separateness in the individual forms, the reality is their underlying oneness.
A world she made
touched by truth’s fleeing hem, The world thus created by Life is not a world of truth but one of fantasy touched by something of the truth which could escape its fantasies. It is more of a dream than an actuality of what is sought for. It is some representation of truth, a form of a living mystery.
It lingered not like
the earth-mind hemmed in Unlike the realm of the physical mind which confines itself to the field and data of the senses that take cognisance only of the physically obvious phenomenon, this world has a larger flight. It extends itself on the wings of the mind that dreams and adventures at the call of the soul.
A hunter of
spiritual verities This Life-world is in search of the higher truths of the Spirit which its thought points to or some intuitive feeling assures. But it does not realise these truths, only imagines them; what it seizes and holds to is only a bright imitation of the living truth that eludes it.
This greater life is
enamoured of the Unseen; This greater Life is attracted to what is beyond it. It always seeks for the Splendour that is above its range. It is capable of touching the Silence in which the striving soul finds its delivering release. It feels the touch of the Divine Grace, receives a ray of the Divine Glory. Its governing Ideals, the truths it seeks to realise, are the True, the Good, the Beautiful, satyam, sivam, sundaram.
It is near to
heavenlier heavens than earth’s eyes see, It has kinship with the demon and the god. If, however, this greater Life is closer to the heavens that are brighter than the heavens of the earth-order—each order of existence, physical, vital, mental, has its own heavens—it is also exposed to hells that are darker and worse than the hells of the earth-life. Greater Life has strong affinities to both good and evil, light and darkness, god and demon.
A strange enthusiasm
has moved its heart;
It hunts for the
perfect word, the perfect shape,
For by the form the
Formless is brought close The fervour that fills the movements of greater Life asks for constant increase, for larger and higher ranges; it desires intensely to reach the supreme Divinity. It strives to attain to the perfect expression, the perfect form, the highest thought, the highest light. It seeks for form because the Reality that is formless can be made tangible only through form. It seeks for perfection because the Absolute that is Full and Perfect can be approached only through increasing perfection.
A child of heaven
who never saw his home, This greater Life though derived from the divine Consciousness-Force, cit-śakti, has not realised its true nature yet. By the force of its drive it comes close to and touches the Higher Existence, but it cannot hold it. It can only strive towards these brighter ends but not arrive. Its special excellence is its capacity to push towards greater things and to try to create them.
On every plane, this Greatness must create.
On earth, in heaven,
in hell she is the same; The might of this greater Life is a force for effectuation on every plane of Existence. She participates in the creative action in all conditions of the manifestation that is in progress, whether of light and joy or darkness and suffering or of both mixed together as on earth. She is there in the building of each destiny.
A guardian of the
fire that lights the suns, Life holds in her bosom the creative urge that fathers the universe; she carries a conquering fervour that breaks down obstructions; she has an irrepressible impulsion to be born and to live. Where there was nothing she affirms and establishes an existence of her force and spirit that withstands all shocks and survives. She may appear inarticulate, but she is always the potent expressive; she may hold herself immobile, but she is ever a dynamis.
Here fallen, a slave
of death and ignorance, Here on earth Life is subject to death and ignorance; she is far removed from her native state. But deep in her is the memory of her origin and that goads her to strive to reach and regain her rightful immortality, to outgrow the ignorance and emerge into a full knowledge of the Reality that remains unknowable in the state of ignorance.
Even nescient, null, her sleep creates a world.
When most unseen,
most mightily she works; Even when this Life-energy is not overtly active, not outwardly perceivable, she works dynamically beneath the surface. Her workings there are more effective because they are less open to interference by contrary elements. She is there pulsating even in an infinitesimal formation like the atom, hidden even in such an inconscient form as the clod. She is ceaselessly vibrant in her creative beat.
Inconscience is her
long gigantic pause, What is called the inconscient is only a stage, a deliberate suspension of her movement, a productive in-gathering. Though immortal in her origin in the Eternal Being, Life has a different appearance in the field of time; her real nature is concealed, she accepts the setting and conditions of death and bides her time to assert her true self.
Even with the Light
denied that sent her forth Life is bereft of the Light of Consciousness from which she has originally issued; she is obliged to work in the darkness of Ignorance with its dim shadows pursuing her everywhere; her guiding lights—however bright they may be—are swallowed up in the dark; obstruction, disaster, pain dog her steps constantly; but she thrives on these very elements of opposition, grows in stature and creates through these pangs of birth. Her creation is born in the stress of suffering and exists in pain.
In chill insentient
depths where joy is none, She is at first confined in the deep gulfs of the Inconscient where there is no sensation, no joy, no movement. All is a black void and nothing can take shape. But Life carries in herself the memory of her origin; she remembers and invokes the skill of formation with which she was endowed by the Creative Spirit of this marvellous manifestation when he first set her forth on her appointed career.
Imparts to drowsy
formlessness a shape,
In realms confined
to a prone circle of death, Where there is no form but only a sleepy existence, she creates form; where there is nothing but an empire of death she creates a living world perceivable even in the reigning darkness of Ignorance; where there is an inconscient mass without any movement, she sets up a throb.
Or imprisoned in
immobilised whorls of Force, Or she holds herself at rest, without motion, in the depths of Matter where her Force is still and inexpressive under the compelling spell of Matter's rule.
Then, for her rebel
waking’s punishment As if in punishment for breaking up the material order of immobility and inconscience, Life is given the most rigid conditions for her working. And yet so great is her skill that even from such crude material as mud she fashions creations that are godlike.
In the plasm she
sets her dumb immortal urge, And what are the godlike wonders that she creates? In the smallest physical cell of the body she plants, the life-urge; promotes the capacity to think in the tissues and to feel and react in the insentient senses; uses the nerve-channel for the communication of impacts of pleasure and pain and the like to the brain; manifests non-physical movements, like the emotion of love in the physical organ of the heart; endows the material body, an inert physical form, with a living soul, a directing will and a voice to express itself.
Ever she summons as
by a sorcerer’s wand
This world is her
long journey through the night, This world-creation is indeed a procession of the caravan of Life through the darkness of Ignorance. Time and Space are her field. Luminaries like the suns and planets light up her pathway. Reason is her collaborator and the senses her active observers. Both reason and senses subserve Life.
There drawing her
signs from things half true, half false, However, the things she draws upon for her creation are neither fully true, nor fully false, with the result that what she is able to effect is of the nature of dreams seeming real enough while they last but proving their unreality when they pass away. This is all that she can create to replace the immortality of her origin of which she has but a haunting memory.
These are her deeds
in this huge world-ignorance: Life keeps up her relentless striving to recreate the Eternal here in this world, and pushes her wayacross the dark or semi-dark passages in this empire of Ignorance. And she will go on doing so till the veil of darkness is cast aside; her path is as endless as Time in which her journey takes place.
One mighty passion motives all her works.
Her eternal Lover is
her action’s cause; Life is in her origin a Power of the creative Divine. She is a Power that has issued forth from His Being to fulfil His will and to manifest His Glory under conditions that are the very reverse of His innate and supreme Consciousness and Bliss. To create and recreate till this object is fulfilled is the passionate endeavour of Life. The Shakti acts for her Lord.
Its acts are her
commerce with her hidden Guest, Life flows according to the impulsions of this Will. Whatever is beautiful in her creation is a reflection of the joy of the Purusha within her.
Ashamed of her rich
cosmic poverty, All is her play for the delectation of her Lord. She is aware of the inadequacy of her cosmic manifestations but she tries to interest him with her paltry gifts. She strives to hold his attention by her varied picturesque scenes and woos him to sanction and indwell her manifold creations.
Only to attract her
veiled companion Her one care is to hold the attention of her Purusha in her world-playings and keep him from turning back to his original status of ineffable and formless Peace. She works to fulfil his Will but she also desires to have him as her partner, participating in her movements.
Yet when he is most near, she feels him far. For contradiction is her nature’s law.
Although she is ever
in him and he in her, Life works through contraries. The conditions in which she is set to work are the very opposite of her own nature. Immortal in her origin, she is given the domain of death as her field; boundless, she is given limited instruments through which to establish herself. At the core she is luminously conscious that her Purusha is always with her, supporting and guiding her movements from behind the veil. But she acts as if she were unaware of this eternal union and the only way in which she can hold him is to relate him to all her acts, confirm his presence in all her movements, and not to allow him to escape her in the field of time. She fears a repetition of the severance of the kind that took place at the origin of the creative movement when Power issued out of the Supreme Being and at some stage in devolution parted from it.
A sumptuous chamber
of the Spirit’s sleep In Life's first poise this Purusha, the Conscious Being, is asleep, as it were, in the spell of inconscience. He is hidden deep within folds after folds of the tranced Spirit. There is no evidence of his existence at all.
But now she turns to
break the oblivious spell, is felt. Life becomes aware of the purpose of her movements and catches through the mind which at one stage veiled the truth some revelation of the Godhead.
Across a luminous
dream of spirit-space
A net is made of the
mobile universe; This greater Life builds her Creation in the extension of the Spirit like a beautiful and picturesque bridge between the white Silences on the summit of Existence and the dark Void of Nescience below. And this moving universe sufficiently attracts the Conscious Being to dwell in it.
A knowledge is with
her that conceals its steps
A might is with her
that makes wonders true; Life seems to act dumbly and ignorantly though irresistibly; but in fact she is instinct with a knowledge that is dynamic from behind the veil. She is also endowed with a strength and power that achieves impossibles; she goes on to make actual what is unbelievable.
Her purposes, her
workings riddles prove; Life has her own ways of working her purposes. They baffle the human mind. Reason and logic cannot fathom her modes. When they try to probe into them, appearances prove to be misleading and attempts at solving her mysteries only deepen them.
Even in our world a
mystery has reigned Mystery belongs not to the Life-world alone. Even on our physical earth there is a mystery behind the deceptive veil of common phenomena. Inexplicable formations and movements take place in the physical universe too, especially on those levels of its existence that are not too bound by their physicality.
There the enigma
shows its splendid prism, In the Life-world proper, however, the mystery is undisguised, it reigns in all its richness. The apparent alikeness in form and movement which misleads is not there. Everything is marvellous, ever new, superbly miraculous, holding back its truth!
There is a screened
burden, a mysterious touch,
Although no earthen
mask weighs on her face, There is indeed no material covering concealing the truth of things in that world, but still the inner sense is withheld. Life is weighed down by a mystery, overpowered by it.
All forms are tokens
of some veiled idea A form is not just a shape that has somehow come to be. Each form is a self-figuration of the idea that seeks to express itself; the figure corresponds or attempts to correspond to the quality and the stress of the consciousness within that ensouls the idea. The truth of this idea is not easily grasped by the mind. The truth is veiled, but on that account it is not ineffective. It is the seed out of which issues the shaping of the form and its subsequent developments.
There every thought
and feeling is an act, In that life-world even feeling and thinking are dynamic; they instantly produce results. They are not, as in our world here, preparatory to action but action itself. And each act there is a symbol of a veiled truth in movement. Behind the symbol-act pulsates the vibrant power of Life.
A universe she
builds from truths and myths,
All else she finds,
there lacks eternity; With all her dynamism, skill and ambition, all that this Life can succeed in building is a copy, an imitation of Truth, not the Truth itself which alone can make her work immortal. Her creations are manifold, but they do not last; they break down sooner or later; eternity eludes her. She succeeds in building forms but all the forms constitute only a finite; the infinite is beyond.
A consciousness lit
by a Truth above Here in this realm of greater Life Aswapathy feels the presence of a consciousness lighted up by the rays of the Truth above. This consciousness is not face to face with that Truth though it is bathed in its radiance. It perceives something of that Truth as formulated in the Idea and proceeds to build a world upon that basis. But what it is able to so build is only an image of the Truth, though it may call it the Truth.
Yet something true and inward harboured there.
The beings of that
world of greater life, All the same there is something here in the world of greater Life that is true, something that is turned inward. The atmosphere here is freer than that in the lower worlds, the field is larger. And the beings here do not live only on the surface of things, turned always to the external—as they do in the lower worlds. They live from within. Their base is deeper.
In that intense
domain of intimacy There is a strong commonalty, a deep oneness of life in this world. There is no separative demarcation between the inner and the outer; objects are not foreign to oneself, other than oneself, but are associates; the movements and activities of the body are not the main or sole features, they are only translations of a greater life that pulsates within.
All forces are
Life’s retinue in that world Life is the leading Power, the ruling truth of this world. All other forces that operate here are subsidiary to Life. The body and the mind which dominate over life in the material world, are here her understudies; they follow and serve Life who is the master.
The universal
widenesses give her room: Or their own self they make their universe. Here the distinction between the individual movement and the universal is very slender. Each individual being feels the play of the cosmic force in its movements. Everywhere the sweep of Life is unbounded. All function as channels of her flow and instruments of her workings. Each one embraces the whole.
In all who have
risen to a greater Life Whoever comes under the dominion of this greater Life awakes to greater inspirations and brighter illuminations. Creative urges communicate themselves; a living aspiration pulls high goals to reveal themselves. All live and strive to fulfil the purpose of this Life in them, to embody and manifest her glory.
Each is a greatness
growing towards the heights Each being is under pressure to expand, grow upwards to greater and still greater heights or to enlarge itself wider and still wider. This movement of self-enlargement spreads over larger and larger areas till it engulfs the entire environment. Each expansion proceeds in bigger and bigger circles but always from one truth-centre.
Even of that
largeness many a cabin make; Even here there are many who shut themselves in the expansion they have arrived at. They do not keep on progressing. They limit their field and stay contented with the comparative greatness they have achieved. Unless one goes on progressing more and more, the progress achieved itself becomes a limitation, an impediment.
To rule the little
empire of themselves, Such beings who limit themselves to their existing states are satisfied with their little kingdoms in which they can play the king. They identify themselves with the joys and griefs of their environments and exert to fulfil their life-needs. They function in the strength given to them as managers for the real Person for whose emergence the conditions are not yet ready.
This was
transition-line and starting-point, This world of greater Life, above the borders of our mortal world, is the line of transition and the starting-point for entry into the brighter heavens beyond. Its denizens are not totally foreign to our race on earth; in some way they are our kinsmen.
This wider world our
greater movements gives, From this wide world of greater Life flow the impulsions that motivate great movements on earth. Man's growth on earth is shaped by formative actions from there. The originals of the things men seek to build in the material world are there in this Life-world, actual, living. What is begun in the physical world is there complete in the Life-world.
As if thought-out
eternal characters, Beings here in the greater Life-world are not pulled about in contrary directions as humans are in their world below. They are not incomplete, not subject to alien controls. They are full, self-assured, pre-designed, as it were, and they follow their guide within, act according to the law of their inner nature, svabhava.
There is kept
grandeur’s store, the hero’s mould;
A battle is joined
between the true and false, Those who are of this Life-world that is full of grandeur are cast in the mould of heroes. The soul within them is not a mere witness, unmoving and unmoved; it participates in the destiny that is being forged and determines the issue. Beings here are wide awake and choose their host—gods or titans. For here the battle is acutely fought between the gods who form the army of truth and the titans and their brood who oppose with their falsehood. The whole procession of this Life-pageant is a journey to the Light Divine.
For even Ignorance
there aspires to know All here move upward. Even Ignorance is not content to remain what it is, but seeks to acquire Knowledge; its aspiration draws upon its visage a glow of the Knowledge-Light far above. Even in the swoon of sleep there is a waking Knowledge. Nature is not a mechanical energy but a conscious force.
An ideal is their
leader and their king: The beings here have their own ideals which they seek to realise. They aspire for Truth and strive to govern their lives in accordance with it; their actions embody the spirit of the Truth sought for, their thoughts are inspired by it, their lives are moulded in its figure. Thus they seek to grow into the divinity of Truth.
Or to the truth of
Darkness they subscribe; Not all of these vital beings, however, work for the Ideal of the Divine Truth, of Light. There are also those who choose the Ideal of Falsehood, of Darkness. Both kinds serve their respective Ideals with passion and intensity for that is their nature. The vital being is a warrior by nature and whether it puts itself on the side of Good or of Evil, it is an ardent combatant.
For evil and good an
equal tenure keep Both the Good and its opposite the Evil exist here with equal dominion. Both thrive and fight with each other on equal terms. Wherever Knowledge is not supreme and not the sole power but is accompanied by Ignorance to whatever degree, there is bound to be this dual phenomenon of good and evil. Evil proceeds from ignorance as good ensues from knowledge.
All powers of Life
towards their godhead tend In this Life-World, all powers have freedom to develop to their utmost, to speed to their absolutes. The field is vast and adventure is natural. Each power builds its own empire and expands its sway. Even Sin has her own rule and holds the allegiance of her adherents.
Affirming the beauty
and splendour of her law Sin claims the whole of the Life-realm as her rightful domain. She tries to establish her law—bright and beautiful as it appears to her and her host—all over the world. She assumes the role of the high-priest and her right to preach her gospel is blazoned by her retinue.
A red-tiaraed
falsehood they revere, Her crown of regalia is Falsehood. Those who worship her pay homage to this Falsehood, cherish crookedness that is the shadow of sin, admit in their minds dark untruth in the form of the Idea which twists the brain by its crookedness, cherish and indulge in unholy power that corrupts and veils their soul. Falsehood, crookedness, wrong thinking, wrong actions, all lead to destruction, step by step.
A mastering virtue
statuesques the pose, Some stay put in a virtue that dominates their life; they do not move further. Some are seized with a powerful passion which always keeps them in a ferment of restlessness. Even in the precincts of wisdom some are too proud of their kingship or sacerdocy to benefit by her. Some pour out their lives in service of a feigned godhead of Power.
Or Beauty shines on
them like a wandering star; Some of these beings of greater Life are attracted by the Ideal of Beauty and they strive with passion to embody it in their lives. They grasp something of the Beauty aspect of the Supreme, sundaram, and express it in their world. Doing so they ennoble even common things and bring into existence a brilliant and wonderful creation. This presence and constant action of the truth of Beauty draws out the joy which is concealed in all forms and movements in Creation. For in all things there is a joy, a delight of creation, ānanda, originating them, sustaining them—whether it is manifest on the surface or lies hidden within waiting for conditions to be ready for its overt play.Beauty is the mould of Delight and where there is beauty there is the flow of delight.
A mighty victory or
a mighty fall, The vital beings in this plane of Life drive to the extreme either way, and either achieve great victories and win thrones of glory or suffer heavy defeats and fall into pits of darkness and suffering. In them is seen the glaring contrasts of the results of the twin-faced Energy at work which turns at one end upwards to Good and at the other downwards to Evil. All that they enjoy or suffer is the result of their own doings. Fate is their own creation.
There Matter is soul’s result and not its cause.
In a contrary
balance to earth’s truth of things In this Life-world the balance of things is quite different from that which obtains on the physical plane. The soul is not the product of Matter as it appears to be in the physical world, but the cause which creates Matter. The soul is anterior. Similarly the subtle is of greater consequence here than the gross, whereas on the earth things have little value unless they have a gross expression palpable to the gross senses. All in this Life-world is determined by its inner significance. According to the inner intention and design, the outer pattern forms itself. The inner is the cause; the outer is the result.
As quivers with the
thought the expressive word, Just as the complete word—the word which fully expresses its content—is astir with the thought that is formulating itself in it and just as right action moves on the impulsion of the soul within, so the perceptible design of this Life-world strongly points to some great Power preparing within.
A Mind not limited
by external sense The physical mind is limited by the nature of its instruments, the gross senses, which take cognisance only of gross objects. But the mind in this vital world is not so limited; it cognises and gives shape to the subtler formulations of the spirit that are beyond the scope of the physical mind. The contacts of the world impinge directly upon the being without the need of sense-channels—and evoke responsive sensations of thrill. The workings from without of the subtle Force which is not embodied in any form are immediately converted into concrete bodily sensations.
Powers here
subliminal that act unseen The forces that act on earth are not all of them patent to the eye. Some of them are stationed in and always act from unseen regions like the subliminal. We know of them only from their results. At times they leap into action unexpectedly and take us by surprise. Such forces come out into the open in this vital world, and function in full view.
The occult grew
there overt, the obvious kept What is hidden and acts from behind the veil on earth stands revealed here in this vital world. And what is considered open and obvious on earth shows here a side that is still concealed and touches the Unknown. In between the seen and visible forms, one feels here the presence of the Unseen.The seen and the unseen meet in this vital world.
In the communion of
two meeting minds Unlike as in the physical world on earth, here in the vital world, there is no need of speech for the communication of thought; mind meets mind directly. So also with emotions. When two hearts come together, there is a spontaneous commingling of their emotions and both expand and merge into each other becoming one. There is no need of outer expression of their respective emotions to form a bridge between them.
Hate grappled hate
and love broke in on love, In this free interchange on the subtler levels there is friction and combat too. Hatred from one meets the hatred of another and there is struggle. So also takes place the engulfing of love by love, the assertion of will against will.
One felt another’s
grief invade the breast, The grief of one is felt by another; one suffers with others. The joy of one thrills another; one delights with others. Distance is of no consequence. Hearts commune with each other and speech is heard irrespective of the distance in between.
There beat a throb
of living interchange: Thus there is a vibrant and constant interchange everywhere in this world of higher Life. Each one is not only aware of others, near or far, there is also a spontaneous response of the consciousness to other consciousnesses.
And yet the ultimate oneness was not there.
There was a
separateness of soul from soul: Identity was not yet nor union’s peace. But with all this living interchange, there is not yet oneness. Soul continues to be divided from soul. It is possible for the soul to erect an unseen wall of no response between itself and others and stay aloof, protecting itself from their impacts by a conscious will. One can live apart, alone in oneself. The natural identity of oneness or the peace of perfect union is not yet.
All was imperfect
still, half-known, half-done: Things are still in the intermediate stage, the progress of evolving Nature is still incomplete; there is much to be known yet, much to be done. The mystery of Inconscience below has indeed been unravelled, but the mystery of the Superconscient above is still to be unveiled. It is yet to be known and experienced. It is there looming on those worlds of Life from above; it is in fact the real source of their existence.
As forms they came
of the formless Infinite, Above is the Infinite, the Eternal. It has no form, but out of that formless Being have issued all these forms; the Formless assumes forms. It has no mark, no name to determine and signify its character, but out of that nameless Being have appeared all these names; the Nameless emerges into names. The Real in itself is formless and nameless. But forms and names are not on that account unreal; for they too are self-determinations of the Real.
The beginning and
the end were there occult; This Life-world represents the middle stage of a long way whose beginning and end, start and finish, are not perceivable here. Looked at in itself it appears abrupt and leaves much to be explained. All here is in the nature of words trying to commune with a Truth that is beyond words, figures strewn about in the process of working out a sum. There is plenty but it is all unfinished.
None truly knew
himself or knew the world None of the beings here knows the truth of himself or of the world of his habitation, much less of the Reality that is embedded in this Creation. His knowl'edge is incomplete, not deep and full enough to grasp the truth. It ranges only to that part which is formulated by the Mind from out of the rich store of the Supermind above which is still veiled. The Mind is only a selective power of the Supermind.
By mysteries they
explained a Mystery, Below, the denizens of this Life-world perceive an outspread darkness of Ignorance and Nescience. Above, they face a luminous Vast which they cannot fathom. In their own expanding and rising world nothing is certain. It is a Mystery on either side and all their attempts to solve it land them into more mysteries. Each riddle of life evokes a further riddle.
As he moved in this
ether of ambiguous life, As Aswapathy moves in this Life-world of uncertainty, he finds that he has become a riddle to himself. HE too is overcome by the prevailing uncertainty and mystery. He regards all forms and movements herE as symbolic and seeks to read through them the truth they signify
Across the leaping
springs of death and birth Eager to know the course of the creative Spirit, Aswapathy follows the great and subtle paths taken by Life across the phenomena of birth and death, through the changing fields of the Soul; he is led on by the concealed but unmistakable delight in the breath of Life and pursues his daring and endless venture.
At first no aim
appeared in these large steps:
For as she drew away
from earthly lines, In the earlier stages Aswapathy does not espy any definite aim in Life's course. He sees only a wide and high source of all things pointing upwards to a still higher source. As Life draws away from the lowly belts of material earth, the pull upwards from the regions that are yet unknown becomes more and more pronounced; a higher and liberative prospect of the Mind above spreads her course towards new vistas of wonder and surprise.
There came a high
release from pettier cares, The petty round of little cares and anxieties that holds life captive on the lower levels of the vital is passed. Here opens the empire of mighty hopes and desires, larger perspectives and processes, a far greater field. Small desires and petty cares are the natural movements of the lower vital; those of the higher vital have a far larger and higher range.
Ever she circled
towards some far-off Light: This mighty movement of Life turns in circles and larger circles but at the same time it advances towards a distant Light that is glimpsed. Though the forms and movements of this Life reveal their purpose somewhat, much remains concealed still. They are all preoccupied in their immediate effort, lost in the enjoyment of the hour and their real significance recedes. Their value as indices of an infinity at work becomes practically nil and their appearance is illusive.
Armed with a magical
and haunted bow Life here is possessed of a wonder-working Power and she is impelled to rush forward even when the prospect is not clear. In the very intensity of her effort she fails to see that the truth she seeks afar is all the while close by her.
As one who spells
illumined characters, Aswapathy laboriously scans the intricate patterns of the movements of Life, follows the clues that he is able to catch and traces the beginnings of those that have developed into gigantic proportions.
Watched her charade
of action for some hint, He watches closely her complicated movements to catch some hint, notes the symbolic gestures of the fleeting figures in her high drama of music and dance, as it were, strives to perceive the design in her fanciful sequences of developing rhythms and follows her disappearing trail on receding grounds.
In the labyrinth
pattern of her thoughts and hopes Ever he met key-words, ignorant of their key. However, the movements of Life are so complex, so profusely crowded and intricately patterned what with her thoughts, hopes, secret desires, dreams—that Aswapathy is lost in bewilderment. He loses hold of the guiding clues and follows guessing, only to find that each guess fails to come true. He comes across solutions but they are in code and he does not have the key to decipher them.
A sun that dazzled
its own eye of sight, The upper limits of thought's horizons are lit up by a dazzling and enigmatic lustre. Thought cannot cope with it. In the silent, dimly showing skies of the night, twinkle the stars. The hberative and guiding Light is seen on the summits.
As if sitting near
an open window’s gap, Aswapathy is helped by flashes of illumination descending upon him to view and grasp the significance of all this mighty effort of Life. He sees in its strivings the attempt of the Soul to regain its identity with the Divine Reality. If the forms and names built by Life are transitory and therefore liable to be called fictitious, it is still a fiction based upon the Truth of the Spirit; even her unpredictable turns, her swift and abrupt movements, her mysteries are meaningful episodes in her enterprise.
The magnificent
wrappings of her secrecy Aswapathy is able to observe the various masks—picturesque and splendid—and the disguises behind which Life hides herself and her workings. He glimpses into the truth of things through their forms which are significant of their ensouling verities. He also perceives the misleading nature of appearances which the mind mistakes for realities.
A thousand baffling
faces of the Truth Aswapathy becomes suddenly aware of the innumerable forms around him turning into so many bewildering faces of the Reality and looking at him; he becomes conscious of the various symbols and masks coming alive with vivid expressions; he sees the gaze of the Truth through all her splendid and magnificent garbs.
In sudden
scintillations of the unknown,
Voices that came
from unseen waiting worlds The creative Word, the Womb of the Cosmic rhythms, which carries the seed of manifestation from the vasts of the Unmanifest finds expression here. Lines and figures with occult significance secure firmly an exact underlying harmony; or they serve to re-form and proclaim the advent of new truths to manifest.
In her green
wildernesses and lurking depths, The expanses of Life are lush and vast with unexpected depressions here and there. There are places where the joy of life is specially concentrated in its play with danger a circumstance that heightens the joy of adventure. In these Aswapathy glimpses the soaring flight of Life's aspirations in all their variegated hues.
In her covert lanes,
bordering her chance field-paths Not all the paths of her course are open and straight. There are hidden lanes and bylanes, unexpected short-cuts; there are regions that are vibrant with joyous movements; there are spots where things are quiet and restful. Everywhere Aswapathy finds the bright and rich yield of the bliss of Life, the beauty of her dreams and musings.
As if a miracle of
heart’s change by joy Even as an outburst of joy alters the whole set-up and mood of one's heart, the radiances in the realm of greater Life effect such a miracle. Aswapathy watches the birth on the tree of Life of a passionate, deep red flower that has grown from the seed of the holocaust of the Spirit in its supreme Love.
In the sleepy
splendour of her noons he saw, Aswapathy observes the repetitive movements of the Life-force which affirms herself and makes and remakes things till her object is achieved; he sees the complex and indefinite thought movements that touch only the surfaces of things and fail to probe into their depths which remain unknown; he hears the merry laughter of bright desires that shy away from their objects as they draw near—for they would cease to be in their fruition.
Amidst live symbols
of her occult power In this realm of the workings of the Life-Power, symbols are not mere tokens or pointers. They vibrate with life and Aswapathy feels them to be real, vivid and animate forms. Though the concreteness of materiality is not here, life impinges more solidly than on earth. One feels here the living vibrations of the Reality within. What men on earth can only feel or think, finds ready and just embodiment here. Forms here are shaped by their ensouling truths unlike on earth where they are borrowed from the universal supply.
A comrade of Silence
on her austere heights Aswapathy attunes himself with the profound stillness of the silent summits of Life where all flows in self-giving to the Transcendent Reality. He sees her' veiled and swift Knowledge-powers pass into the Unknowable, the Infinite. Beyond the finite is the Infinite; beyond the realm of Knowledge is the Unknowable.
Identified in
soul-vision and soul-sense, Aswapathy desires to know the inmost truth that moves this greater Life. And for this purpose he identifies himself with her inner sense and vision, dives deep into her profounds and becomes one with her existence and her aspirations; in thinking and in action, in living and in seeing, he functions with the faculties natural to her.
A witness
overmastered by his scene, He stays no more a witness that he was. He turns a captive-admirer of her dazzling splendour and wondrous play; he readily responds to her notes; he exults in and upbears the displays of her strength. He is held by her will the meaning of which he knows not; her hands that forge destiny close on him; her initiating touches and dynamic impulsions pour upon him.
But this too he saw,
her soul that wept within, Aswapathy sees also the negative side of Life. He regards her soul within that is disappointed. Her seekings do not succeed in reaching the truth which is their objective; her hopes are shadowed by despair; the intensity that fills her restless being, the desire that agitates her are unceasing; her mind is never satisfied with the meagre results of its workings; her heart does not succeed in meeting and clasping the Divine Beloved it seeks.
Always he met a
veiled and seeking Force, Wherever he turns, Aswapathy feels her Force that is constantly asearch though concealed. What she builds looks like an attempted imitation of a remembered heaven by a goddess who has been thrust out from it. She is a mystery whose gaze is fixed on a light that is not patent to the eye.
Ever he felt near a
spirit in her forms: All the same, Aswapathy feels the presence of a spirit in the forms of Life. This spirit, though it is not active but present only as a passive witness, is the real strength of the Life-Power. This is so not only on the Life-planes but even upon Earth, the field of Matter. Whatever the appearance, the truth lies within in the indwelling spirit; that explains all outer movements in life. The inner is the real and permanent, the outer is the result and impermanent. However, in the material world the gross form effectively veils the ensouling determinant.
Its stamp on her acts is undiscoverable. A pathos of lost heights is its appeal.
Only sometimes is
caught a shadowy line The movements of life on earth hardly testify to the presence of this spirit within. But the persistence of aspiration for the heights of the Spirit points to the existence of this spark inside; it makes itself felt through this longing. Rarely does its presence reveal itself in outer life-activities; only occasionally is there a vague hint of the reality inside.
Life stared at him
with vague confused outlines
As in a fragmentary
half-lost design Aswapathy is unable to get a clear picture of life. She is vague in form and her workings do not yet reveal a pattern. Things seem to be only partly done; their meaning escapes his sight.
Life’s visage
hides life’s real self from sight;
The thought that
gives it sense lives far beyond;
In vain we hope to
read the baffling signs The real meaning of life lies hidden by her changing appearances. That truth is concealed within and above her. The Idea that inspires Life lies beyond the Life-plane. It cannot be read in Life's half-completed creations. Human attempts to catch the significance through the bewildering masks of her workings, to arrive at her truth through the clues afforded by the incomplete play prove futile.
Only in that greater
life a cryptic thought Some secret clue, some half-revealed idea, however, is found on the planes of the greater Life. In the light of that pregnant idea-form, the activity of life on earth takes on some meaning.
Something was seen at last that looked like truth.
In a half-lit air of
hazardous mystery Gazing at the scene which is only the dark half of the truth—Aswapathy alights upon a seeming truth. In that atmosphere, dim, dangerous and mysterious, confused but led by an inner light, he espies across the haze of melting colours, a half-blind divinity in chains. The divine Spirit that ensouls this world is only half-awake; its sight is not yet fully open; it is bound to the formula of Life.
Attracted to strange
far-off shimmerings, He hears divine notes calling him from afar; bright glows of light beckon to him. He makes his way forward through all the mirth and urge of Life, following her innumerable chaotic steps which, for all their confusing appearance, point to a significant goal,—towards some profound infinitude beyond.
Around crowded the
forest of her signs: His passage is crowded with signs and pointers whose meaning is not clear. Reasoning and logic fail him. He lets his thought intuit and whether by guess or by some higher light appearing as chance, he is able to understand and follow the layout of this domain with all its play of leading ideas, tentative movements, significant shows and definitive demarcations in the medley of paths.
In her mazes of
approach and of retreat Life plays, as it were, hide and seek with the Spirit. She appears to come near to the Spirit but escapes his hold. Life and Spirit are ever on the move, Life leading and the Spirit following.
Allured by the
many-toned marvel of her chant, The Spirit is held captive by the rhythm of Life's movements. He is fascinated by her rapidly changing moods. He reacts with joy or grief to her touches however casual. He is completely lost in her but cannot possess her.
A fugitive paradise
smiles at him from her eyes: He pursues enchanted the elusive promise of paradise in her eyes and dreams of mastering her and possessing her form of beauty. He is lost in the thought of the rapture that awaits him.
In her illumined
script, her fanciful
But the Word of Life
is hidden in its script,
Unseen, a captive in
a house of sound, The Spirit is shut within the walls of sound, forgetting himself in the picturesque imagery of his dream. The notes that he listens to are those sounded by the multi-toned and illusive play of Life.
A delicate weft of
sorcery steals the heart The play of Life is enchanting in the pattern she weaves, in the spell of her notes and the scintillations of her bright colours, but the delight it produces is temporary. It palls after a time or one is lost in the enjoyment of the senses and the sense-mind. In either case the response of the inner soul is not given. The pageant reveals itself as aimless.
A blind heart-throb
that reaches joy through tears, Her great soarings to the infinities above take place on the wings of an irresistible impulsion from within to win joy through whatever suffering it might entail. She is moved by a spirit of adventure to scale the unconquered peaks, by an anticipatory thrill that accompanies the effort to reach the object of her desire.
Transmuted are past
suffering’s memories In the procession of Life, sufferings are quickly forgotten; they pass into memories which when recalled strike only a momentary sad note, sweet and fleeting_ The tears that are shed in the struggle of Life are preserved in precious lessons of experience. Sorrows undergone become themes for inspiring ballads.
Brief are her
snatches of felicity There are brief intervals of happiness when some felicity from within wells up, but it soon passes or is smothered by the stresses and griefs of life. There is somewhere in the profounds of Life a memory of her original immortality and she longs for it, in some form or other, constantly. The divine entity within calls her to her innate status. This soul within—deathless and boundless by nature—is encased in her mortal, limited embodiment and subjected to the bitter experiences of Life. She is aware of this suffering of her soul and her deepest articulations are poignant with its pain. And, in a way, Life values this suffering in her breast for it keeps fresh the awareness of her ensouling truth.
A wanderer on
forlorn despairing routes, The Life-being has fallen from its original state of bliss and some memory of it drives it to regain that bliss. It strives for this in varied movements, but finds itself doomed to disappointment and cries out in despair.
Astray in the echo
caverns of Desire, The Life-being is lost in the proliferating terrains of Desire; even when hopes are frustrated and dead, it keeps their memory alive. It follows enchanting and false calls in its search for joy and pleasure in the midst of prevailing grief and pain. Desire eggs on the Life-being to a fruitless venture.
A fateful hand has
touched the cosmic chords Some dire and decisive touch has set astir all this cosmic motion. This disturbance has brought in an element which effectively conceals the rhythm of things whose unheard beat gives meaning to the outer movements.
Yet is it joy to
live and to create In spite of all the pains and shocks, there is a joy in living, in striving, in creating, in loving. Maybe all effort fails in the end, objects of desire disappoint when acquired at long last and trust is betrayed constantly; but truly all has not been in vain. There is some deeper purpose that justifies all the apparently useless effort and hardship. The strong memory of a lost glory goads Life into an intense and joyful effort to regain it.
Even grief has joy
hidden beneath its roots: This to Life’s music gives its anthem swell. Grief does not kill; man survives the worst attacks of grief, for behind grief—which is a surface deformation—there is a joy of existence. All is created by the Divine and nothing created by Him is without purpose; that is why even in the hour of defeat there is a sustaining reserve of strength within. An ultimate victory beckons man to persist and traverse the paths however difficult. Even what appears to be a total cessation of life—death—is converted into a passage to greater and freer planes of existence. This truth, the divine element in creation, is what gives fullness and irresistible power to Life.
To all she lends the
glory of her voice; It is Life that imparts dynamism and effectuation to all urges for expression whether from above or from below. The joys and ecstasies from the higher worlds come close to her and pass; the brief longings of material earth articulate themselves through her and fade away. To both Life lends herself and provides the means and the opportunity for manifestation.
Alone the God-given
hymn escapes her art Life articulates and gives form to many cravings but;; the truth with which she was charged when she issued out of the supreme creative Reality remains unexpressed. That Word of truth was lost in the devolutionary course and it still awaits in the profound ranges of the Unmanifest.
But no breath comes
from the supernal peace: Life is cut off, as it were, from the Word she was ordained to voice. What she is occupied with, in the meanwhile, is some makeshift music attracting the heart and filling and satisfying the soul for the mo-' ment. But it is a fleeting effort that ultimately arrives at nothing.
And the loud strains of the music played by this Life shut out effectively the song that the manifesting Soul came to play on the multiple instrument of its Nature-Power. The Spirit embodies itself in order to play its Harmonies, manifest its truths. Nature provides the needed instruments.
Only a mighty murmur
here and there The lost might and sweetness, however, are not completely forgotten. As if to remind Life of their existence somewhere—and the possibility of actualising them—there is an inarticulate hearing of the deathless Sound, nada, here and there. A soulful strain of Delight, a touch of Beauty captivating the eye and the heart, an errant Glory, a mystic note of Call, all these testify to a Splendour lost by Life but seeking to be born anew.
Here is the gap,
here stops or sinks life’s force; It is this gulf between what sought to manifest and what actually Life has been able to build, that is responsible for the indigent character of this creation. Life, as it is, is unable to rise higher, evoke into manifestation the greater verities and support their pressure of formation.
A half-sight draws
the horizon of her acts: The vision of Life is clipped and naturally her action is correspondingly stunted. Though the knowledge of the mission with which she was charged is there at the core of her being, she has no active memory of it in her mind; her feelings are too mixed to read and be guided aright. Consequently the Soul that has come on the steed of Life is lost in the labyrinthine profusions of the paths and bypaths of Nature.
In knowledge to sum
up omniscience, The fond hope with which Life started her toil was this: to set the supreme omniscience of the Divine Consciousness working spontaneously in the faculty of knowledge here below, to reveal the omnipotence of the Divine Force in all action here below. In a word she desired to manifest in the cosmos the creative Godhead in all his Glory.
Toiling to transform
the still far Absolute She has striven to give full expression to the far-off Absolute and Ineffable Reality here in this creation, to bring down the Supreme's Force here in the cosmos. She has sought to induce the static state of the Supreme to move into a dynamic creative condition, to bring about a fruitful unification between his state of a still calm and his vast motion of creative Bliss.
A fire to call
eternity into Time, Life is astir with an aspiration to invoke the Eternal to pour itself into Time, to bring the material consciousness in tune with the spiritual so that the joy that is natural to the soul could be equally native to the body. She would be the bridge between Earth and Heaven and uplift Earth to the heights and joys of Heaven. She works to heal the gulf between this world here and the Supreme on high, between the abyss of nescience below and the summit of the superconscience above.
Her pragmatism of
the transcendent Truth Life would not leave the Truth that transcends all to remain in its soleness. She seeks to draw it, its Light and Power, into her creation. The Gods, the many aspects and personalities of the Supreme, come into being in answer to her call But amidst this multitude of Gods and their Powers, the One Reality is pushed behind the veil, the one Person is lost behind his various personalities.
For Nature’s vision climbs beyond her acts.
A life of gods in
heaven she sees above,
Here the half-god,
the half-titan are her peak: The actual is never the limit of Nature. She always looks beyond it, for greater possibles ever beckon her. Life sees the order of the gods above her own domain; below, she sees man who has just emerged from the animal stage of evolution, but she perceives that he has the makings of a god in him. In her own realm, the highest that this greater Life has been able to achieve in her search for perfection is the half-god and the half-titan in whom manifest both Light and Darkness, both Good and Evil. Greater Life has moved away from the stage of mortal man but has not reached the state of godhead; she lingers indecisively in the middle.
A poignant paradox
pursues her dreams: A tragic contradiction characterises the movements of this greater Life. What she seeks is in constant variance to what she does. By her hidden force she throws this ignorant world into a ferment in her frantic search for perennial joy, but that joy remains out of her reach because of her very frenzy, her eager clutchings of desire. The world moves helplessly in its never-ending round, unable to turn to the source of Joy within.
Immense her power,
endless her act’s vast drive,
Although she carries
in her secret breast The power of this greater Life is immense and the range of her forceful actions vast; but the direction, the meaning of it all is not evident. It is well-nigh lost. Indeed the purpose, the governing truth and the direction are there in the depths of her being but she is not aware of them on her surface levels. Here her knowledge seems to be but partial and her purpose limited. Underneath there is the seeking, an intense want, but on the surface, Life seems to loll leisurely, abundantly.
A leaden Nescience
weighs the wings of Thought, The weight of Inconscience at the base of this material creation pulls downwards every formation, every movement. In its various forms of ignorance, obscurity, decay and the like, it arrests the free movement of the faculties, thought, sight etc. and limits their range of action.
A sense of limit
haunts her masteries Life is admittedly masterful in her workings, but she is always hedged in by various limitations—limitations of the material on which she works, limitations of the instrument, limitations of the environment. Consequently there is no satisfaction of complete achievement; some inadequacy is always gnawing. There is profundity and there is beauty in her works but there is no real freedom for her spirit; the conscious intelligence that could effect the freedom is lacking.
An old and faded
charm had now her face
Out of her daedal
lines he sought escape; There was no issue from that dreamlike space. Aswapathy is no more held by the novel and picturesque creation of this greater Life. Things begin to pall. His large being looks for a deeper joy than what Life can give. He wants to break away from her intricate and complex hold, but finds no appointed doors of exit; neither does he find any opening of spiritual sight that could help him out. He sees that this enchanting scene leads nowhere.
Our being must move
eternally through Time;
Our life’s repose
is in the Infinite; Cast in this field of Evolution we have to keep moving onward. What appears like cessation in death does not really put a full stop to things. There is no halt because there is a definite goal to be reached: a freedom in the Infinite and a perfect life in the Divine. All along there is a divine Will in the depths of our being compelling us to strive and endure, sustaining us in our labour till the purpose is fulfilled.
Death is a passage,
not the goal of our walk: No silent peak is found where Time can rest. Death is really not the end of our life. We do not have only one life to live, we have several lives across which the soul journeys, gathering experience, growing towards full embodied divinity Death is a passage from one life to another, from this physical world on earth to other worlds above where we repair for rest and assimilation before the next birth is undertaken. Our souls are charged with this mission of divinity at the very start of their career by the Supreme (of whom they are emanations) and this original impulsion goads them on. Besides the Karma done in each life does not end with death. It continues in its consequences and forges further lives to work itself out. There is really no resting place in this journey of the soul.
This was a magic stream that reached no sea.
However far he went,
wherever turned, Aswapathy finds that all here is a constant movement that has no issue. However far he goes, in whichever direction he turns, he finds that activity goes on and on. There is no completion. Each act leads to the next.
A beat of action and
a cry of search All was contrivance and unceasing stir. In this world of greater Life there is everywhere and always a ceaseless activity, a note of search, a pervading restlessness. Things are somehow managed, but there is no satisfaction of fulfilment.
A hundred ways to
live were tried in vain: A constant experiment goes on in this world of greater Life. There is an urge for variety, for novelty. Multiple movements take shape. But very soon the newness wears out and all sinks back into stale routine.
A curious decoration
lured the eye
A different picture
that was still the same There is an attractive ornamentation of things. Old movements are placed in new settings. In every way there is an attempt to impress with the appearance of change even though there is no real change. It looks as if a diferent pattern has been formed but in truth it is the same old one.
Only another
labyrinthine house This world turns out to be yet another crowded, hectic, criss-crossed realm where there is no worthwhile achievement, no freedom. All the labour of the creation and the questing spirit comes to little more than a hubbub of forms and movements.
A circuit ending
where it first began In this world of Ignorance most movements are in circles; they turn round and round. There is an appearance of forward movement, a constant progression, but very often things come back to where they started from. (It is only meaningful movements that register an upward direction even when they move in circles; such movements are really spiral and not merely circular.)
Each final scheme leads to a sequel plan.
Yet every new
departure seems the last, Nothing really meets the situation in this world. Each plan seems to be the final, all-sufficient remedy, but as it is worked, its inadequacies reveal themselves and a subsequent plan becomes necessary. And so it goes on. At the time each scheme is launched, it is taken as the all-time solution of all the ills that beset man, the very acme of planning, but ultimately it turns out to be only one more ineffective attempt that must inevitably be followed by another.
Each brief idea, a
structure perishable, Each idea that comes fathering such schemes, though it is only a temporary construction of the mind, claims to be an everlasting verity, and demands allegiance as the most perfect, the best formulation of the truth.
But nothing has been
achieved of infinite worth: Aswapathy sees that in spite of all the hectic doings and goings on, nothing of lasting value has been achieved in this world of greater Life. Things are being constantly made and remade but never completed; failures are followed by reluctant attempts again and again; parts are mistaken for the whole.
In the aimless
mounting total of things done There is here a mounting activity, but it is aimless and the very existence of things seems to be a result of some purposeless necessity. There is a ceaseless combat of the opposites of Light and Darkness, Good and Evil. The whole scene strikes as a drama without any intelligent issue, a stampeded march of things into a nowhere.
Or, written on a
bare black board of Space, It is a picture of futility, repetition without issue, unfulfilled hope, failing light; there is only the ceaseless and helpless toil of a Force that never arrives at its objective.
There is no end or
none can yet be seen: Really there is no end to the labours of life, at any rate it is not yet perceivable. Whatever the failures, life is obliged to continue her struggle. She is constantly drawn by some prospect of glory that she glimpses but which always eludes her. Her vision looks beyond her present state of fall.
There quivers still
within her breast and ours In the breast of man, in the bosom of life, there is still the remembrance of a glorious state that has been lost. There is also a call of some greatness from a realm beyond awaiting fulfilment, a greatness that is not yet attained by this world of chequered movements.
In a memory behind
our mortal sense Behind the exterior awareness of man, there is a persistent sense of the certainty of a freer and happier existence in which joy and love are spontaneous. It is a kind of memory of a state that the soul has lost in its adventure, but which is there waiting to be recovered.
A ghost of bliss
pursues her haunted depths; Life has a strong memory of her original state of will, power and bliss before she got completely separated from her source in the Truth-Consciousness in the course of her descent from the profound peaks of Superconscience to the depths of Nescience. This memory haunts her and she strives to regain that state of unfettered and unvitiated play.
This knowledge in
our hidden parts we keep; Man has these memories stored in the deeper parts of his being which are behind the veil of the exterior. That is why he responds to the call of the Mysterious and somewhere his being comes into contact with a Reality that is not seen but is nevertheless more real, more full than the incomplete and fragmented truth of the present state of the universe. Man has forgotten his true self but that self drives him on the quest for self-recovery. He is impelled by the Spirit that seeks embodiment in him.
As one who has lost
the kingdom of his soul, Man has some recollection somewhere in his being of a happier and more elevated godly state that he has enjoyed before he forfeited it and fell to his present state of imperfection. He misses it and hopes and strives to regain that forgotten condition either here while on earth or in diviner worlds after death.
Our being’s
natural felicity, clings to grief instead. The joyous thrill that was natural to the body has been displaced by pain. But his nature remembers its rightful bliss and longs for it even though in its present unpurified and untransformed condition it would not be able to bear it.
Our life is a march to a victory never won.
This wave of being
longing for delight, Man strives for fulfilment but is not able to achieve it. His being seeks for delight, his powers of effectuation are ever striving but without success, his hopes are continual in their forward leap. He conceives of a Heaven that can give him what he wants and supplicates the gods of that paradise. He looks vainly for the delivering hand of Grace, awaits the advent of a new Dawn, the birth of the Immortal in this world of mortality.
Yet still to
ourselves we say rekindling faith, Though thus disappointed and frustrated, man repeatedly affirms to himself his inborn faith in the certainty of the divine response to his call. He affirms his confidence that the Divine will manifest one day and recreate his failing life, bring peace to the strife-torn world and recast the present pattern of imperfection into perfection.
One day he shall
descend to life and earth, Man has the confident faith that one day the Divine will come down from his transcendent spheres to this world that cries out to him for succour and uplift—for only then can the world be redeemed; that he will bring the truth that liberates—for only truth can free the soul imprisoned in ignorance; that he will come with the bliss that regenerates—for only the divine bliss can bathe and purify the being, giving it a new birth; that he will bring the strength of Love that is irresistible—for it is only the flawless power of divine Love that can shatter all obstacles and build a new creation.
One day he shall
lift his beauty’s dreadful veil, He has faith that one day the Divine will freely manifest himself in this world, reveal his Beauty rending the veil of ugliness that has covered it in this field of Ignorance, cast his Delight on the aching heart of life, and show his real form of Light and Bliss on this scene of darkness and suffering.
But now we strain to
reach an unknown goal: All must be done for which life and death were made. That glorious manifestation, however, is still far-off. In the meanwhile man must go on striving towards a goal which is yet not clear. There is no respite allowed. He is born, he seeks, he dies only to return to the scene of his toils. If he succeeds in achieving his immediate aim, a greater aim arises before him; if he fails, he must try anew—in the present birth or the next. He cannot cease till he finds the truth of his being. Life is given to man and death imposed on purpose. They are the processes through which he is to work out his self-discovery and win the truth of his existence.
But who shall say that even then is rest?
Or there repose and
action are the same Even after man finds the truth that he seeks, is it certain that he will rest? In that state of being and consciousness, there is really no difference between action and repose. For all is upheld by the Being of Delight; and in that supreme Delight of Existence, activity and rest are but the forward and backward flowings of the same wave of Bliss. They are not two different and exclusive movements.
In a high state
where ignorance is no more, In that high state of consciousness where the last shadows of Ignorance are overpassed, every movement is a wave of peace and bliss. Ignorance being no more, there is no strife, no pain. Rest is a state without motion of the creative force, but is fully potent all the same; action is a local stir in the waters of the Infinite hardly disturbing the ocean; appearance in Time is a willed movement of the Timeless, not something fortuitous and momentary.
A sun of
transfiguration still can shine The glorious prospect is there, and is confidently awaited, when the supreme Light can radiate and change all and the Darkness dissolve revealing the light of the Spirit concealed in its bosom, when the apparently self-defeating paradox of life may show its profound character as a purposive formulation of consciousness and all hopeless confusion yield to a joyous order.
Then God could be
visible here, here take a shape; Then can be the plenary manifestation of the Divine, the formless Spirit revealed in form. That the Divine Spirit is omnipresent and within all that is here will be openly seen. Life will put off her present mask of limitation and death and reveal her true visage as a Power of the Immortal.
But now a termless
labour is her fate: Meanwhile, Life has to go on with her endless labour, repetitive, mechanical, incondusive, with birth and death as signal points on her interminable journey. Each task completed raises the question, has it been worthwhile?
A limping Yes
through the aeons journeys still All seems in vain, yet endless is the game.
Impassive turns the
ever-circling Wheel, Every affirmation of Life, however halting, brings a negation in its wake—birth is followed by death, success by failure and so on. And so the journey goes on and on, apparently in vain. The Wheel of Life turns on its course indifferent to what ensues from its movement. The relentless effort of Life achieves no result, and death brings no release either.
A prisoner of itself
the being lives An error of the gods has made the world. Or indifferent the Eternal watches Time. The soul is a prisoner shut up in its encasement. Its innate immortality is of little practical consequence in this mechanical round of life and death. It cannot end itself and thus escape. It looks as if the whole world were the result of some error of the creating Gods, or that the Eternal were indifferent to what takes place in Time. |