The boy so long delights in his play, the youth so long pursues his beloved, the old so long brood over melancholy thoughts, that no man meditates on the supreme being—Adi Shankaracharya, Bhaja Govindam, verse 7.
It is natural for all men, at some time in the course of their existence, to aspire to better things, to long for lives of merit and usefulness. It matters not what the nature of the ideal may be—whether of art, music, literature or poetry, or whether it be a life of devotion such as that described by Krishna in the Bhagavad-Gita—“Some day,” we say, “we shall take the higher road. Some day, we shall attain.” The inspiration of an ideal held has the power to dispel all present gloom, to kindle the imagination, and to keep one going through the darkest of circumstances. It has the power to fire the enthusiasm and to sustain one’s hope over an indefinite period of time. But ideals, as such, are but possibilities—especially on this plane of physical existence. They are seeds for future growth and realization, which require to be planted, nurtured and sustained. Focalized through Mind, energized through Will, and transformed through Devotion into present realities, they become potent endowments for the common human good.
All long for better things, but few take the steps that lead to their attainment. Some say there is no time to spare, that the press of events is too demanding. Some say their Karma is such that they are in no position to engage in nobler work. Others intend to do so, and are only waiting until their “ship comes in,” when travel on the Path will be unimpeded by irksome financial burdens. Still others are of the opinion that because of Kali-Yuga nobler ideals and aspirations must await the rise of a better age. Thus it is that the boy waits until youth, the youth waits until old age, and the old complain that it is too late—victims all, of the illusion of tomorrow.
One of the greatest delusions of our age is the idea that the higher life requires special conditions, or that it will be easier in the future than it is at the present time. The very conditions in which one finds himself are those most suited to his spiritual growth—if he but views them aright. Outer circumstances are intimately related to the inner nature of the experiencer, and contain in themselves such tests and trials as will exercise the virtues he needs to develop.
The tendency to procrastinate, to put off until tomorrow that which should be done today, is a Karmic heritage of the race that has placed mankind a million years behind in its evolution. Except for the necessary task of earning a livelihood, our time, for the most part, is wasted. We vacillate from trifle to trifle, from one set of demanding circumstances to another, with the result that, at the end of our lives, little of real advance has been achieved. Why is this so? Why is it that, in spite of countless types of labour-saving devices, we are usually behind the event, and always in a hurry to catch up with things and affairs that press themselves upon our attention? Why is it that we have no time for worthy pursuits?
To blame Kali-Yuga is to mistake effect for cause, to shift the onus of responsibility onto something outside, when it belongs upon ourselves. Kali-Yuga, it is true, is an age of psychic and mental unrest. It is an age when greed and ambition are the rule, while divine aspirations are an abnormality. But is this a reason to contend that we must be greedy and ambitious? Is it the teaching of the Masters that, because we are living in an age of darkness, and under difficult circumstances, our lives must be dark and disordered, and our characters blotted with the sins of sloth and indifference? If this were true, man would be but a puppet—a mere pawn, moved by blind forces upon a meaningless chess-board of fate.
Kali is not an omnipotent God external to man, who rules our thoughts and causes our sins and troubles. In days of old, Kali was “a benevolent goddess, a being of light and goodness,” whose work, in the words of H. P. Blavatsky, was “to bring about reconciliation between Brahmā and the gods.” If the “female aspect of Śiva” has become now a dark and blood-thirsty being, it is because it was created such by man. Man himself is the maker and sustainer of all cycles; and he alone can institute the causes for a better age. Kali will change its colour only when the heart of man is changed.
He who blames time for his failure to achieve, likewise mistakes illusion for reality. For what is time, after all? Is it a thing, or a being, or anything whatsoever external to man—or is it inner? According to The Secret Doctrine “Time is only an illusion produced by the succession of our states of consciousness as we travel through eternal duration.” It is man himself who creates the illusion, and he alone determines the length of its duration. One has much time or little for his use—depending upon where he centres his consciousness—that is to say, upon whether it is placed in that part of his being which is eternal, or in his evanescent, changing personality. In the Christian Bible is a verse saying that one day is as a thousand years to the Lord and a thousand years as one day. Such is the concept of time to the Soul. But the man who lives in his body and centres his consciousness entirely on the plane of physical sensation is swallowed up in the swirl of moments. Rushing feverishly from one perishable experience to another, he can think of nothing else, has time for nothing but the gratification of his desires.
To complain of being too young or too old to undertake the life of devotion is to forget what one is as an Eternal Soul. What concern has the Eternal with age? What care the Masters whether one’s body is 20 years old or 100, whether it is male or female, rich or poor, pleasantly surrounded or living in the most sordid circumstances? All such considerations pertain to the purgations of matter, with which the Masters have nothing to do. Their concern is with the welfare of the inner man—that he assume his rightful position of grace and divinity, that he live in the aura of his timeless Self. In the eyes of the Master, a disciple is known by the light of his soul, not by the activity of his body, by purity of mind and heart, not by the fervour of his emotions, by Will and effort, not by promises or intentions.
Few individuals, in their lives, show signs of purpose or design. Few are so ordered in their thinking or living that they are in any way prepared to carry through in the pursuit of their heart’s desire. Where is the man, for example, who meets the programme of a day’s activity with plan or preparation? Where is the individual who takes time out to determine the order of importance in the things he desires or is required to do? Where is the person who takes an inventory of himself, so as to weed out the visionary and unnecessary, to make room for the practical and real? For the most part, we neglect, throughout the whole of our lives, that which we feel most duty-bound to do. We indulge the desires of the flesh while we postpone the opportunities of Soul—awaiting a tomorrow that never comes.
It has been said, if you wish something done, ask a busy man to do it. The truth of this adage traces undoubtedly to the fact that a busy person does not procrastinate or make excuses—but acts. Having established the habit of doing, he is awake and ready for every occasion. It is not that other people do not possess the same power to do, or that their ability is necessarily inferior to that of the Doer—but simply that they have failed to use their power and ability. Victims of materialistic philosophies and religions, they rely too much upon externals, upon the force of circumstances or the whim of a personal saviour.
How is it possible to assume a position of power and confidence so long as one places his moral centre of gravity outside himself? How can he expect to face life and its trials, or to achieve the things he desires to do, if he believes himself to be the victim of the chaotic waves of matter, or the puppet of an arbitrary God? Theosophy teaches man to look up and aspire to the greatness that is his, inside, to assume the position of Divinity, to become master of his fate. There is a power in the soul that can accomplish seeming miracles—if only it is put to use.
He who would reach the goal must at some time make a vow. He must affirm the eminence of his Divine Self—which is above chance or circumstance, and beyond the pressure of time or cycles. It is not enough to sit and wait for Karma to clear away the old before instituting the pattern of the new. The whole order of Nature indicates that the process of life is a becoming— and that it works from within outwards. The withered leaves of the tree’s old growth do not detach themselves from the twig voluntarily. They are pushed off the limb from within, literally forced to depart by an inner impulse that prepares the way for the new. So it is with man, who stands at the front of the great wave of life. He must affirm the position of master in his kingdom. Will-action must precede outer change in condition. The light of the Satya age must dawn in the mind and heart of the race before the darkness of Kali will depart. One must become a disciple before the outer sign is bestowed. “Now is the only time we have!”