Six years have gone into the void since the Path was started, and we are still in the middle of eternity. Doubtless other ages have had their magazines, with their articles, their hopes and fears, their subscribers, their complainers, their friends. This journal has had the usual complainers, but can best and most easily remember that its friends are numerous.
The original program has been adhered to, the propelling motive is the same, the guiding object remains in view, the policy outlined has not been departed from. The Path has no party to placate, no ulterior aims to forward. Hence its independence is secured, since it bows the knee to no man, to no authority, although it seeks and will so seek to abide by the rules of the Theosophical Society as well as those prescribed of old for conduct and for intercourse.
In its pages attempt has been made to present the common-sense of theosophy, because it knows that, sadly enough, many theosophists cease to use their natural common-sense when dealing with the movement and its literature. One will say “Theosophy tells me to give up my duties and my family ties, to neglect my friends, and to live in morbid mental condition,” while Theosophy looks sadly on and wonders why men and women will thus misconstrue.
These six years have witnessed the rise and fall of some men and women, but the last year now finished has had to chronicle the departure of our great leader, our friend, our champion, adept in all the noble arts of righteous war—H. P. Blavatsky. It was as if a mighty tower had fallen, causing the whole theosophic body corporate to quiver for a space. That was but momentary, for the great forces that had held the tower in place at once transferred themselves throughout the whole range of the Society, informing it with added energy, new zeal, and greater strength.
So this year, while seeing such a catastrophe, saw also but three short months afterwards the whole Society welded together under one working plan, with a single method, a Constitution in all its sections modeled on brotherhood and following the plan of the American Section which this journal always advocated. To our feelings the death of the body called H.P. Blavatsky was a shock and loss, but for our true progress, for the health of our real nature, it was a gain because it makes us stand alone. Man was born alone, must stand alone, die alone,—so he must needs be strong.
Thanks, then, comrades, for your help, your appreciation, your judgment and suggestions. The year is past in form, ’tis true, but still it is with us. We need no resolves for the future, for we never touch it; we need no regret for the past, for we have not lost anything, but have the gaining eternally of experience. Adieu, twelve months, the path still stretches on and ever upward!