CREATING CHARACTER/PART 2
HOW TO BUILD CHARACTER
THE
very idea implied in the building of character is a new one to many people.
They usually think and speak of a man as born with a certain character and
practically incapable of changing it. They sometimes think of a man's character
having been altered by great sorrow or suffering, as in truth it often is; but
comparatively few people seem to realize that it is a thing that they can take
in hand and mould for themselves — a thing at which they can steadily work with
the certainty of obtaining good results. Yet it is true that a man may change
himself intelligently and voluntarily, and may make of himself practically what
he will within very wide limits. But naturally this is hard work. The man's
character, as it stands now, is the result of his own previous actions and
thoughts. You who are familiar with the idea of reincarnation, with the thought
that this life is only one day in the far larger life, will recognize that this
day must depend upon all other days, and that the man is now what he has made
himself by antecedent development. But he has lived through many lives, and
that means that he has been many thousands of years in training himself to be
what he is, even though such training has been unconscious on his part and
without any definite aim. He has therefore established within himself many
decided habits. We all know how difficult it is to conquer habit — how almost
impossible it is to get rid of even some small physical trick of manner when
once it has become a part of ourselves. Reasoning from small things to larger
ones, we may readily realize that when a man has certain habits which have been
steadily strengthening themselves for thousands of years, it is a serious task
for him to try to check their momentum and to reverse the currents. These lines
of thought and feeling are welded into the man, and they show as qualities
which seem to be deeply ingrained in him. Now that he has yielded to them
through all that length of time it seems from the worldly point of view
impossible for him to resist them, yet it is by no means impossible from the
point of view of the occultists.
If,
for example, the man has what we call an irritable character, that is because
he has yielded himself to feelings of that nature in previous lives — because
he has not developed within himself the virtue of self-control If a man has a
narrow, mean, and grasping character, it is because he has not learnt the
opposite virtues of generosity and unselfishness. So it is all the way
through; the man of open mind and genial heart has built into himself these
virtues during the ages that have passed over his head. We are exactly what we
have made ourselves. Yet we have become what we are without any special effort
of thought or of intention. In those lives that are past we have grown without
setting any definite object before us, and we have allowed ourselves to be to a
great extent the creatures of our surroundings and circumstances.
In
some cases we may have intentionally formed ourselves upon the model of someone
whom we admired, and that person may have influenced our lives largely for a
time. But obviously this hero of ours, whom we have copied, may have had bad
qualities as well as good ones; and at these earlier stages it is little likely
that we had the discrimination to choose only the good and to refuse the evil.
So we may probably have reproduced in ourselves his undesirable qualities as
well as those which were worthy of imitation. You may see that this is so if
you watch the actions of children in the present day, for from them we may
learn much as to the probable actions of the child-nature of our undeveloped
souls in the past. You may see how sometimes a boy conceives a violent
hero-worship for some older person, and tries to model himself upon him.
Suppose, for example, that the object of his adoration is some old sailor who
can tell him wonderful stories of adventure on stormy seas and in far distant
lands. What the boy admires is the courage and endurance of the man, and he
respects him for the experience and the knowledge which he has acquired in his
wanderings. He cannot immediately reproduce the courage, the endurance, or the
experience; but he can, and he does forthwith, copy the outward traits of his
sailor-friend, and so he will faithfully imitate the curious nautical
expressions, the tobacco-chewing and the rolling gait. Much in the same way we
also may have been hero-worshippers in days and lives gone by, and we may have
set up many an unpleasant habit in mimicry of some savage chieftain whose
boastful bravery extorted our admiration.
It is
probable, however, that this idea (of definitely taking our selves in hand for
the sake of improvement) has occurred to few of us before this life. There is
no question that to uproot old bad habits and to replace them by good ones
means a great deal of trouble and a great deal of arduous self-control. It is a
serious task, and the ordinary man has no knowledge of any motive sufficiently
powerful to induce him to attempt it. In the absence of this adequate motive,
he does not see why he should put himself to so much and such serious trouble.
He probably thinks of himself as a good fellow on the whole, though possibly
with one or two amiable weaknesses; but he reflects that every one has his
weaknesses, and that those of many other people are much worse than any which
he observes in himself. So he lets himself drift along without making any
effort.
Before
such a man can be expected to reverse his old habits, and set to work painfully
to form new ones, he must first realize the necessity of a change of
standpoint, and must obtain a wider view of life as a whole. The ordinary man
of the world is frankly, cynically selfish. I do not mean that he is
intentionally cruel, or that he is devoid of good feelings; on the contrary, he
may often have good and generous impulses. But his life on the whole is
certainly a self-centred life; his own personality is the pivot round which the
majority of his thought revolves; he judges everything instantly and
instinctively by the way in which it happens to affect him personally. Either
he is absorbed in the pursuit of wealth, and blind to the higher side of things
and to the spiritual life, or else his chief object in existence appears to be
the physical enjoyment of the moment.
THE
AVERAGE IRRESPONSIBLE FACULTY
To see
that this is so, we have only to look round us at the men whom we meet every
day, or to listen to the conversations which are going on in the streets or the
railway carriages. In nine cases out of ten we shall notice that the people are
talking either about money, or amusements, or gossip. Their one idea in life
seems to be what they call "having a good time", or, as they
frequently put it in still coarser and more objectionable language,
"having lots of fun" — as though this were the end and the object of
the existence of a reasonable being, a living spark made in the Divine Image! I
have been much struck with this — that the only idea which many people seem to
connect with life is that of the sensuous pleasure of the moment — just amusement
and nothing else. That seems to be all that they are able to comprehend, and it
appears to be a sufficient reason for not having visited a certain place to say
that there is no "fun" to be had there. I have often heard a similar
remark made in France; there also s'amuser bien seems to be the great duty
which is recognized by the majority, and it has passed into a figure of
ordinary speech, so that a man will often write to another, "I hope you
are amusing yourself well" — as though the pleasure of the moment were the
only important business.
To
listen to the conversation of these men and women of the present age one would
suppose them to be the mere insects of a day, with no sense of duty, of
responsibility, or of seriousness; they have not in the least realized
themselves as immortal souls who are here for a purpose, and have a definite
evolution before them; and so their life is one of shallow ignorance and
giggling vacuity. The only life they seem to know is the life of the moment,
and in this way they lower themselves to the level of the least intelligent of
the animals about them. Man has been defined as a thinking animal, but it seems
evident that as yet that definition applies only to part of the race. I think
we must admit that to one or other of these two classes — the money-hunters, or
the pleasure-hunters — belong the majority of the people of our occidental
races, and that those whose principal thoughts in life are duty and the pursuit
of spiritual development are only a small minority.
There
are many of them who have a recognition of duty in connection with their
business, and they consider that everything else must yield to that — even
their personal pleasure. You will hear a man say, "I should like to do
this, but I have my business which requires attention; I cannot afford to lose
time from my business". So that even the idea of personal pleasure becomes
subsidiary to that of business. This is at least somewhat of an improvement,
though it is often sadly overdone, and you will find many people to whom this
idea of business has in its turn become a kind of god which they worship. They
are in a condition of abject slavery to it, and they never can let themselves
escape from its influence even for a moment. They bring it home with them, they
are wholly involved with it, and they even dream of it at night; so that they
sacrifice everything to this Moloch of business, and they cannot be said to
have time for any true life at all. It will be seen that though there is here a
dawning conception of duty it is still only upon the physical plane, and their
thought is still limited to the affairs of the day. Only in the case of a small
number will it be found that this idea is dominated by a light from higher
planes; rarely indeed has the man a glimpse of wider horizon. This
concentration of attention upon the physical life of the passing day seems to
be a characteristic of our present race, of the great so-called civilization
which at present exists both in Europe and in America. Obviously the man who wishes
to do anything definite in the way of character-building must first of all
change this standpoint, for otherwise he has no adequate motive for undertaking
so severe a task.
CONVERSION
In
religious circles this change of standpoint is called conversion; and if it
were freed from the somewhat unpleasant canting associations with which it is
ordinarily surrounded, this would be a good word to express exactly what
happens to the man. We know that in Latin
verto means "to turn", and con signifies "together
with", so conversion is the point at which the man turns from following
selfish ends and fighting against the great stream of divine evolution, and
henceforth begins to understand his position and to move along with that
stream. In the Hindu religion they call this same change by the name of viveka,
or "discrimination", because when that comes to a man it means that
he has learnt to see the relative value of objects and to distinguish to some
extent between the real and the unreal, so that he is able to perceive that the
higher things only are those which are worthy of his attention. In the Buddhist
religion another name is given to this change — mano-dvaravarjana, or "the
opening of the doors of the mind". The man's mind has in reality opened
its doors; discrimination has awakened within it and its owner has brought it
to bear upon the problems of life. The man who is wrapped up in pleasure has
not yet opened his mind at all; he is not thinking about life in any serious
way, but is immersed in the lower currents. The business man has developed the
desire for.acquisition, and is bending all his energies into action for that
purpose; but his mind also has not yet opened to understand the realities of a
higher life.
This
opening of the doors, this discrimination, this conversion, means the
realization that the things which are seen upon the physical plane are temporal
and of little importance as compared with these other things which are unseen and
eternal. It is precisely that which is spoken of in the Bible, when we are
told: "Set your affection on things above and not on things of the earth
... for the things which are seen are temporal, but the things which are not
seen are eternal". This does not mean that a man must give up his ordinary
daily life, or must abandon his business or his duties in order to become what
is commonly called a pious or a devout man; but it does mean that he should
learn intelligently to appreciate other things besides those which are
immediately obvious upon the physical plane.
We all
of us at different stages have to learn to do this; we have to learn to widen
our horizon. As little children, for example, we appreciate only those things
which are near to us, and we are unable to look far ahead in time, or to plan
much for the future. But as we grow older we learn by experience that it is
sometimes necessary for us to give up the pleasures of the moment in order that
we may gain something in the future which shall be better and greater. In the
first place this is usually to gain something still for ourselves; for it is
only by degrees that the true unselfishness dawns. In many cases the little
child would spend the whole of his time in play if he were allowed to do so,
and it is a matter of regret to him that restrictions are imposed upon him and
that he is compelled to learn. Yet we universally recognize that the child
should learn, because we know what the child as yet does not — that that
learning will fit him to take his place in life, and to have a fuller and more
useful career than would be possible for him if instead of learning he devoted
himself entirely to the joys of the moment.
Yet we
who thus enforce this learning upon the child are ourselves doing the same
thing for which we blame the little one, when we regard the matter from a
somewhat higher standpoint. We also are working for the moment — for the moment
of this one life, and we fail to realize that there is something infinitely
grander and higher and happier within reach if we only understood it. We are
working for this one day only, and not for the future which will be eternal.
The moment a man becomes convinced of this higher life and of the eternal
future — as soon as he realizes that he has his part to play in that, naturally
his common sense asserts itself, and he says to himself: "If that be so,
obviously these material things are of comparatively little account, and
instead of wasting the whole of my time I must be learning to prepare myself for
this greater life in the future. There at once is the adequate motive whose
lack we previously deplored; there is the incentive to learn to build the
character, in order to fit oneself for that other and higher life.
PURITANISM
I
think that Puritanism, which has played such a prominent part in the history
both of England and of America, arose chiefly as a reaction against that view
of life of which I was speaking just now — the mere living for the careless
selfish enjoyment of the moment. I believe that Puritanism was in itself
largely a protest against that, and in so far as it emphasizes the reality of
the higher life, and the necessity of paying attention to it, it had good in
it. True, it also did much harm — more harm than good on the whole, because it
did this terrible thing, that it made people identify religion with sourness
and sadness. It made people think that to be good one must be miserable; it
degraded and all but destroyed the idea of the loving Father. It blasphemed
God by telling horrible and wicked falsehoods with regard to Him; it
misrepresented Him as a stern and cruel judge, a monster, instead of a Father
full of love and compassion; and in doing this it warped and distorted
Anglo-Saxon Christianity, and set a stamp upon it from which it has not even
yet recovered.
Perhaps
the reason of this may be that it made a common mistake — that it confused
cause and effect. It is true that a man who has learned to appreciate the
higher joys of the spiritual life cares little for those of the ordinary
physical existence. That is not because he has lost his capacity for joy, but
because he has now realized something so much fuller and wider, that by
comparison with it the lower delight has ceased to seem joy at all. When the
boy comes to be a man he has outgrown his childish toys, yet he is capable of
other and much greater pleasures than those could ever have given him. Just so
the man who rises in evolution, so that instead of mere selfish delights he
comes to appreciate the far greater joy of unselfish work, will find that his
ordinary pleasures are no longer satisfying to him and seem to him no longer
worth the trouble of pursuit. This is because he has reached a higher
standpoint and gained a wider horizon; but the result upon the physical plane
gives the impression that he has ceased to be interested in the lower physical
pleasures.
We
must not, however, confuse the cause with the effect as the unfortunate
Puritans did, and suppose that by turning our backs upon the joys of the
physical plane we therefore instantly become the more highly evolved men with
the wider outlook. It is true that because the young man has developed he no
longer cares for infantile pleasures; it would not be true that the infant by
refusing the delights appropriate to his age would thereby become an adult. It
is well, then, that we should realize clearly that it is emphatically a false
and foolish doctrine that to be good men must be miserable. Exactly; the
reverse is the truth, for God means man to be happy, and it is certainly his
duty to be so; for a man who is unhappy radiates depression all round him, and
thus makes life harder for his fellow men.
THE
AWAKENING
How
then does a man come to make this great effort of trying to build his
character, trying to make something of himself? The safest and the most
satisfactory path is that which we have just indicated. The man comes to wider
knowledge, he comes to understand that there is a grander and higher life; he
sees that there is a great scheme, and that man is part of that scheme. Seeing
that, and appreciating to some extent the splendour and the glory of the plan,
he wishes to become an intelligent part of it — he wishes to take his place in
it, no longer merely as a straw swept along by a storm, but rather as one who
understands and desires to take his share in the mighty divine work that is
being done.
There
are others whose awakening comes along a different line — the line of devotion,
rather than of knowledge. They are strongly attracted either by a high ideal or
by some lofty personality; their love and admiration are excited, and for the
sake of that ideal, for the sake of that personality, they make strenuous
endeavours to develop themselves. When this devotion is inspired by the glimpse
of a splendid ideal it is indeed a glorious thing, and its action is
practically indistinguishable from that of spiritual knowledge. When the
devotion is to a person it is often hardly less beautiful, though then there is
a certain element of danger arising from the fact that the object of this
intense affection is human and must therefore possess imperfections. Sometimes
it happens that the devotee comes suddenly upon one of these imperfections, and
receives therefrom a rude shock which may tend to diminish or divert the devotion.
The high ideal can never fail the man who trusts it; the person may always do
so to some extent or in some respect, and consequently there is less security
in the devotion to a teacher.
We in
The Theosophical Society have had some experience in this direction, for among
our students there are many who approach the truth by this road of devotion.
When the devotion is to Theosophy, all goes well; their enthusiasm grows ever
more and more brilliant as they learn more of the truth; and no matter how far
they penetrate, or which of its many sides they investigate, they can never be
disappointed. But when the devotion has been not to Theosophy or to the great
Masters who gave it to the world, but to some one of their instruments on the
physical plane, we have found that its basis is less secure. Many entered the
Society and took up its studies on the strength of a personal devotion to its
great founder, Madame Blavatsky. Those who knew her most intimately, those who
came nearest to understanding that wonderful many-sided individuality, never
lost their faith in her, nor their deep heartfelt affection and devotion for
her; but others who knew less of her were perturbed when they read or heard of
wild accusations brought against her, or when they saw the unfavourable report
of a learned Society concerning her. Then it often happened that because their
faith had been based upon the personality (and upon one which they did not
understand] they found themselves altogether overthrown, and abandoned the
study of Theosophy for this incarnation. Such action is obviously utterly
irrational, for even if all the absurd stories circulated about Madame
Blavatsky had been true, the mighty doctrines of Theosophy still remain the
same, and its system is still unassailable; but the emotional person does not
reason, and so when the prejudices of these good people were shocked or their
feelings were hurt, they abandoned the Society in a rage, not realizing that
they were themselves the only sufferers through their folly.
Devotion
is a splendid force; yet without an intelligent comprehension of that to which
the devotion is felt, it has often led people terribly wrong. But if the man
clearly grasps the mighty divine scheme of evolution, and feels his devotion
called forth by that, then all is well with him, for that cannot fail him, and
the more he knows of it the deeper his devotion will become and the more
thoroughly will he identify himself with it. There is no fear of close
investigation there, for fuller knowledge means deeper adoration, greater
wonder, profounder love. For these reasons it is best for the man to feel his
devotion for the ideals rather than for personalities, however lofty these may
be. Best of all is it that he should base himself upon reason and fact, and
argue from what is well known scientifically to the things not yet known in the
outer world. His inferences may sometimes be wrong, but he realizes that
possibility, and is always ready to change them if good reason can be shown to
him. Any such alterations in detail cannot affect the basis upon which his
system rests, since that is not accepted upon blind faith, but stands on the
secure platform of reason and of common sense. He knows that the mighty scheme
of evolution exists, although as yet our knowledge of it is imperfect; he
knows that he is put here for a purpose, and that he ought to be trying to do
his share in the work of the world. How then can he begin to fit himself to
take that share ?
There
comes in the question of the building of character. A man sees himself to be
fit or unfit as the case may be; to be fit in certain ways perhaps, but much
hampered in others by characteristics which he possesses. There at once is an
adequate motive for him to take himself in hand, when he realizes that his life
is not for this short and fleeting period only, but for all eternity, when he
sees that the conditions of the future days of this wider life will be modified
by his actions now. He recognizes that he must so train himself as to be able
to do this noble work which he sees opening up before him — that he must not
waste his time in idleness or folly, because if he does he cannot sustain the
part destined for him. He must learn, he must educate and develop himself in
various ways in order that he may not fail in his ability to bear his share in
the future that awaits us, in the glory that shall be revealed.
As to
the stages in which this can be done, perhaps, we can hardly do better than
listen to the words of one of the mightiest of the earth's Teachers. You will
remember that men asked the Lord Buddha to state the whole of his marvellous
doctrine in one single verse; and that he replied in these memorable words:
"Cease to do evil; learn to do well; cleanse your own heart; this is the
teaching of the Buddhas". Let us take up the building of character along
the lines indicated by the golden words of the great Indian Prince, and see how
thoroughly his single sentence covers the work of many lives.
SABBA
PAPASSA AKARANAM
"Cease
to do evil."Let us look at ourselves carefully and thoughtfully, examine
ourselves and see what there is in us that stands in our way, that prevents us
from being perfect characters. We know the goal that is set before us; we who
have read the Theosophical books know what is written there of the great
Masters of Wisdom — of those men who are almost more than men, and of their
glory, power, compassion, and wisdom. There is no mystery as to the
qualifications of the adept; the steps of the path of holiness are fully described
in our books, with the qualities which belong to each of them.
What
the Masters are, what the Buddha was, what the Christ was, that we must all
some day become; we may therefore set before ourselves what is known of these
exalted characters, and putting ourselves in comparison with them we shall see
at once in how many ways we fall lamentably short of that grand ideal.
Lamentably, yet not hopelessly, for these great Masters assure us that they
have risen from the ranks in which we are now toiling, and that as they are now
so we shall be in the future; and whether that future be near or distant is a
matter which is entirely in our own hands, and rests upon our own exertions.
The
attempt to compare ourselves with these perfect men will at once reveal to us
the existence of many faults and failings in ourselves which have long ago
disappeared from them. Thus we commence our effort to obey the command of the
Buddha, "Cease to do evil", by setting to work to eradicate these
undesirable qualities. We have not far to look for them. Let us take, for
example, the quality of irritability — a very common failing in a civilization
such as ours, in which there is such a constant rush and whirl, and so much of
nervous overstrain. Here is a prominent evil which must certainly be cast out.
A man often thinks of himself as having been born with a highly-strung nervous
organism, and therefore unable to help feeling things more keenly than other
people; and so he expresses this additional sensitiveness by irritability. That
is the mistake which he makes. It may be true that he is keenly sensitive; as
the race develops many people are becoming so. Yet the fact remains that the
man himself should remain master of his vehicles and not allow himself to be
swept away by the storm of passion.
ASTRAL
DISTURBANCE
This
irritability is seen by the clairvoyant as liability to disturbance in the
astral body. This astral body is a vehicle with which the man has clothed
himself in order that he may learn through it and act through it. It cannot
therefore fulfil its purpose unless he has it thoroughly under control. As the
Indian books tell us, these passions and desires are like horses — in order to
be useful to us they must be under the control of the mind who is the driver;
and this driver himself must also be ready to obey the slightest order which
comes from the true man who sits in the chariot directing the movement of these
his servants. For the man to allow himself to be swayed or swept from his base
by his passions and emotions, is to allow his horses to run away with him and
to carry him whither they will instead of whither he will. It is for us to say
whether we will allow ourselves to be mastered in this undignified manner by
these feelings which should be our servants. We have the right and the power to
say that this shall not be, and that these unruly horses shall be brought under
control. It may be true that for a long time we have allowed them to have their
own way until to yield to them instead of dominating them has become a fixed
habit. Yet to learn to manage them is the first step in the upward path; there
can be no question that it will have to be taken, and the sooner it is taken
the easier it will be.
It can
never be too late to begin, and it is obvious that each time that the man
yields himself makes it a little more difficult for him to resume the control
later. The irritable man constantly finds himself succumbing to small
annoyances, and under their influence saying and doing what afterwards he
bitterly regrets. Strong though his resolve may be, again and again the old
habit asserts itself, and he finds that he has said or done something under its
influence before (as he would put it) he has had time to think. Still if he
continues to make a determined effort at control, he will eventually reach a
stage when he is able to check himself in the very utterance of a hasty word,
and to turn aside the current of his annoyance when it is at its strongest.
From that to the stage where he will check himself before he utters that word
is not a long step, and when that has been gained he is near the final victory.
Then he has conquered the outward expression of the feeling of irritation; and
after that he will not find it difficult to avoid the feeling altogether. When
that has been once done a definite step has been gained, for the quality of
irritability has been weeded out, and it has been replaced by the quality of
patience as a permanent possession, which the man will carry on with him into
all his future births.
CONCEIT
AND PREJUDICE
Men
have many failings which they hardly notice, yet if they carefully examine and
judge themselves by sufficiently high standards they cannot help perceiving
where they fall short. One of the commonest of all failings is self-conceit. It
is so natural for a man to wish to think well of himself, to emphasize in his
mind those points in which he considers he excels, and to attach undue
importance to them, and at the same time to slur over almost without thought
the many other points in which he falls short of other men. This self-conceit
is a quality which needs to be carefully watched and steadily suppressed
whenever it shows its head, for it is not only one of the commonest of all, but
it is one of the most difficult to master; when conquered in one direction it
reappears under some new guise in another. It is subtle and far-reaching, and
it disguises itself with great success; yet until it is eradicated but little
progress is possible.
Another
weed which must be relentlessly torn up is prejudice. So often we are
exceedingly intolerant of any new idea, of any other belief than our own; we
are set and firm and dogmatic along certain lines, and unwilling to listen to
truth. For example, we have our prejudices as to what we call morality, based exclusively
upon conventional ideas; any suggestion which contravenes these, no matter how
reasonable it may be, gives us such a shock that we lose our heads altogether,
and become rabid and full of hatred, bitter and persecuting in our opposition
to it. Many a man who thinks himself free from intolerance because he has no
special religious belief is just as dogmatic along his own materialistic lines
as the worst religious fanatic could be. Often a scientific man regards
religion of all kinds with easy tolerance, considering it as something only fit
for women and children. He looks down with amused superiority upon the horror
with which one religious sect regards the opinions of another, and wonders why
they should make so much fuss about a matter which can hardly be of serious
importance one way or the other; and yet at the same time he has certain fixed
ideas with regard to science, about which he is just as bigoted as are his
religious friends in their dogmas. It does not occur to him that there is a
bigotry outside of religion, and that in science, as well as in faith, a man's
mind must always remain open to the advent of new truth, even though that truth
may overthrow many of his own preconceived ideas.
Often
this vice or prejudice is a subtle manifestation of that self-conceit to which
I previously referred; the set of ideas which the man has adopted are his ideas
and for that reason they must be treated with respect, and anything which tends
to conflict with them cannot be entertained for a moment, because to receive it
would be to admit that he may have been mistaken. Many a man has within him
pettinesses, meanness, narrowness of mind, the existence of which he has not
suspected; yet these qualities will manifest themselves when circumstances
arise which call them into action.
Often,
even when a man sees the manifestation of some such undesirable quality within
himself, he to some extent excuses it by saying that it is after all natural.
But what do we mean by this word natural ? Simply that the majority of mankind
would be likely under similar circumstances to display such a quality, and so
the man in whom it manifests is an average man. Yet we should remember that if
we are trying to take ourselves in hand and to build our character towards the
high ideal which we have set before us, we are aiming to raise ourselves above
the average man, so that what is natural for him will not be sufficient in the
higher life which we are now endeavouring to live. We must rise above that
which is natural for the average of the race, and we must bring ourselves into
a condition in which only that which is right and good and true shall be the
natural course for us. We must eradicate the evil, and replace it by good, so
that it is the expression of the latter which will instinctively show itself
when we act without premeditation. If we are trying to realize the higher life,
trying to make ourselves a channel through which the divine force may pour out
upon our fellow men, then that which is natural as yet for the majority will be
unworthy of our higher aspirations. Therefore we must not excuse faults and
failings in ourselves because they are natural, but we must set to work to make
that natural to us which we desire to have within us; and this development also
is entirely within our own hands.
KUSALASSA
UPASAMPADA
Sometimes
the easiest way to carry out the first command "Cease to do evil" is
to commence by trying to obey the second one "Learn to do well". If
we wish to conquer an evil habit, it is sometimes easier and better for us to
make strenuous efforts to develop within ourselves the opposite virtue. What
are the qualities which are most necessary for us ? If we can examine the
matter without prejudice we shall find that very many of those which go to make
the perfect man are as yet sadly lacking in us. Take first the very important
quality of self-control. The majority of us are certainly deficient in this
respect, and this fact shows itself in a dozen ways. The irritability of which
I spoke previously is one of the commonest forms in which lack of self-control
shows itself. There are other and coarser passions, such as the desire of the
drunkard or of the sensualist, which most of us have already learned to
control, or perhaps we have eliminated them from our natures in previous lives.
But if any relics of such coarser passions still remain with us in the form of
gluttony or sensuality, our first step must be to bring such desires under the
dominion of the will.
In
such cases as this the necessity is obvious to every one; but our lack of
self-control may show itself in other ways which we do not so readily perceive.
When some trouble, some sorrow or suffering comes to a man, he often allows
himself to be greatly worried or profoundly depressed by it. Instead of maintaining
his attitude of calmness and serenity, he identifies himself with the lower
vehicle, and allows himself to be swept away. He must learn to take a firm
stand — to say to himself: "These forces from without are playing upon my
lower vehicles, affecting perhaps my physical body or my astral body, but I,
the Soul, the true Man, stand above all these things; I remain untroubled, and
I will not allow myself to be disturbed or moved by them."
THE
FOOLISHNESS OF TAKING OFFENCE
Another
instance which is painfully common is the way in which a man takes offence at
something which another says or does. If you think of it this also shows a
strange lack, not only of self-control, but of common sense. What the other man
says or does cannot make any difference to you. If he has said something that
has hurt your feelings, you may be sure that in nine cases out of ten he has
not meant it to be offensive; why then should you allow yourself to be
disturbed about the matter ? Even in the rare cases where a, remark is intentionally
rude or spiteful — where a man has said something purposely to wound another —
how foolish it is for that other to allow himself to feel hurt! If the man had
an evil intention in what he said, he is much to be pitied, since we know that
under the law of divine justice he will certainly suffer for his foolishness.
What he has said need in no way affect you; if a man strikes a blow on the
physical plane, it is no doubt desirable for you to defend yourself against its
repetition, because there is a definite injury; but in the case of the
irritating word no effect whatever is really produced. A blow which strikes
your physical body is a perceptible impact from outside; the irritating word
does not in any way injure you, except in so far as you may choose to take it
up and injure yourself by brooding over it or allowing yourself to be wounded
in your feelings. What are the words of another, that you should let your
serenity be disturbed by them? They are merely a vibration in the atmosphere;
if it had not happened that you heard them, or heard of them, would they have
affected you ? If not, then it is obviously not the words that have injured
you, but the fact that you heard them. So if you allow yourself to care about
what a man has said, it is you who are responsible for the disturbance created
in your astral body, and not he. The man has done and can do nothing that can
harm you; if you feel hurt and injured and thereby make yourself a great deal
of trouble, you have only yourself to thank for it. If a disturbance arises
within your astral body in reference to what he has said, that is merely
because you have not yet gained control over that body; you have not yet
developed the calmness which enables you to look down as a soul upon all this
and go on your way and attend to your own work without taking the slightest
notice of foolish or spiteful remarks made by other men.
If you
will attain this calmness and serenity, you will find that your life is
infinitely happier than before. I do not put that before you as the reason for
which you should seek this development; it is a good reason truly, yet there is
another and higher reason in the fact that we have work to do for our fellow
men and that we cannot be fit to do it unless we are calm and serene. It is
always best that we should keep before ourselves this highest of all reasons
for self-development — that unless we evolve ourselves we cannot be a fit and
perfect channel for the divine power and strength. That should be our motive in
our effort; yet the fact remains that the result of this effort will be greatly
increased happiness in our work. The man who cultivates calmness and serenity
soon finds the joyousness of the divine life pervading the whole of his
existence. To the clairvoyant who can observe the higher bodies the change in
such a man is remarkable and beautiful to see.
THE
EVIL OF UNNECESSARY AGITATION
The
average man is usually a centre of agitated vibration; he is constantly in a
condition of worry or trouble about something, or in a condition of deep
depression, or else he is unduly excited in the endeavour to grasp something.
For one reason or another he is always in a state of unnecessary agitation,
generally about the merest trifle. Although he never thinks of it, he is all
the while influencing other people around him by this condition of his astral
body. He is communicating these vibrations and this agitation to the
unfortunate people who are near him; and it is just because millions of people
are thus unnecessarily agitated by all sorts of foolish desires and feelings
that it is so difficult for the sensitive person to live in a great city or to
go into any large crowd of his fellow men. An examination of the illustration
of the effect of the various emotions as shown in Man Visible and Invisible
will at once enable us to realize that a man in such a condition of agitation
must be causing great disturbance in the astral world about him, and we shall
see that others who happen to be in his neighbourhood cannot remain unaffected
by the influence which pours out from him. The man who gives way to passion is
sending out waves of passion; the man who allows himself to fall into a
condition of deep depression is radiating in all directions waves of
depression; so that each of these men is making life harder for all those who
are so unfortunate as to be near him.
In
modern life every man has little circumstances which worry him, which tend to
stir up irritability within him; every man has sooner or later some cause for
worry and for depression; and whenever any one of us yields to either of these
feelings the vibrations which we send out assuredly tend to accentuate the
difficulties of all our neighbours. Such vibrations make it harder for those
about us to resist the next accession of irritability or depression which may
come to them; if there are germs of these qualities in them, the vibrations
which we have so wrongly allowed ourselves to send forth may awaken these germs
when otherwise they would have lain dormant. No man has a right to commit this
crime of throwing obstacles in the way of his fellow men; no man has a right to
yield himself to depression or to give way to anger — not only because these
things are evil for him and wrong in themselves, but because they do harm to
those around him.
On the
other hand, if we cultivate within ourselves serenity, calmness, and
joyousness, we make life lighter instead of darker for all those into whose
presence we come; we spread about us soothing vibrations, we make it easier for
our neighbours to resist worry or trouble or annoyance, and thus we help to
lift the burdens from all those who are about us, although we may say never a
word to them! Every one is the better because we are calm and strong, because
we have realized the duty of the soul. Here, then, are some useful qualities
which we may seek to build into ourselves — the qualities of self-control,
happiness, and calmness. Let us learn that it is our duty to be happy, because
God means man to be happy. Therefore it is that the man must not let himself be
swept off his feet by the waves of thought and feeling about him, but must
stand firm as a tower to which others may cling who are still affected by these
waves. So shall divine strength flow through him to those others, and they too
shall be rescued from the stormy ocean of life, and brought into the haven
where they would be.
COURAGE
AND RESOLUTION
Other
virtues which we should build into ourselves are courage and determination.
There are many men in the world who have an iron determination within them
about certain things — a resolution that nothing can shake. They have resolved
to make money, and they will do it — honestly, if possible, but at any rate
they will make it; and these men usually succeed to a greater or less extent.
We who are students of a higher life think of them as narrow in their outlook,
as understanding but little of what life really is. That is true, yet we
should remember that they are at least living up in practice to what they
understand. The one thing of which they feel certain is that money is a great
good, and that they intend to have plenty of it; and they are throwing their
whole strength into that effort. We have convinced ourselves that there is
something higher in the world than the gaining of money, that there is a vaster
and a grander life, the smallest glimpse of which is worth more than all mere
earthly gain. If we are as thoroughly convinced of the beauty of the higher
life as is the worldly man of the desirability of making money, we shall throw
ourselves into the pursuit of that higher life with exactly the same resolution
and enthusiasm with which he throws himself into the pursuit of gold. He
neglects no possibility, he will take infinite pains to qualify himself to
pursue his object better; may not we often learn a lesson from him as to the
one-pointedness and the untiring energy with which he devotes himself to his
object ? True, the object itself is an illusion, and when he gains it he often
finds it to be of but little value after all; yet the qualities which he has
developed in that struggle cannot but be valuable to him when the higher light
dawns upon him and he is able to turn his talents to a better use.
In
this development of resolution the study of Theosophy greatly helps us. The
Theosophist realizes profoundly the infinity of work in the direction of
self-development which lies before him; yet he can never be depressed, as the
wordly man sometimes is, by the feeling that he is now growing old, that his
time is short, and that he cannot hope to attain his end before death puts a
period to his effort. The student of occultism recognizes that he has eternity
before him for his work, and that in that eternity he can make himself exactly
what he desires to be. There is nothing that can prevent him. He finds around
him many limitations which he has made for himself in previous lives; yet with
eternity before him all these limitations will be transcended, his end will be
accomplished, his goal will be attained.
There
are many people who are anxious to know what the future has in store for them —
so many that large numbers of swindlers live upon this desire. Any astrologer
or clairvoyant who thinks he can predict the future is certain to have immense
numbers of clients; even the veriest charlatan seems to be able to make a
living by a mere pretence to the occult arts or to prevision. Yet in truth no
one need trouble himself in the slightest degree about his future, for it will
be exactly what he intends that it shall be. The student of occultism does not
seek to know what the future has in store for him; he says rather: "I
intend to do this or that; I know what my future development will be, because I
know what I intend to make it. There may be many obstacles in my way, put there
by my own previous actions; I do not know how many there are, or in what form
they may come; I do not even care to know. Whatever they may be, my resolution
is unshaken; whether it be in this life or in future lives, I shall mould my
existence as I like; and in knowing that, I know all that I care to know of
that which lies before me." When the man realizes the divine power which
resides within him he cares little for outward circumstances; he decides upon
what he will do; he devotes his energy to it and he carries it through; he says
to himself: "This shall be done; how long it will take matters nothing,
but I will do it." It will be seen therefore that courage and
determination are virtues which are emphatically necessary for the student of
occultism.
THE
GREATEST NEED OF ALL
Most
of all man needs to develop the quality of unselfishness; for man as we find
him at present is by nature terribly selfish. In saying that, we are not
casting blame upon him for his past; we are trying to remind him that there
lies before him a future. The Theosophist understands why this fault of
selfishness should be so common among men, for he realizes what has been the
birth and the growth of the soul in man. He knows that the individual was
slowly, gradually formed through ages of evolution, and consequently that the
individuality is very strongly marked in man. The soul as a centre of strength
has grown up within the walls of self, and without these protecting walls the
man could not have been what he now is. But now he has reached the stage where
the powerful centre is definitely established, and consequently he has to break
down this scaffolding of selfish thought which surrounds him. This shell was a
necessity, no doubt, for the formation of the centre; but now that the centre
is formed the shell must be broken away, because while it exists it prevents
the centre from doing its duty, and from carrying out the work for which it was
formed. The man has become a sun, from which the divine power should radiate
upon all those around him, and this radiation cannot be until the walls of
selfishness have been broken down.
It is
not wonderful that it should be hard for man to do this, for in getting rid of
selfishness he is conquering a habit which he has spent many ages in forming.
It had its use and its place in these earlier stages; as one of the Masters of
Wisdom once put it: "The law of the survival of the fittest is the law of
evolution for the brute; but the law of intelligent self-sacrifice is the law
of development for man." So it comes that man needs to transcend what was
formerly his nature and to build into himself the quality of unselfishness, the
quality of love, so that he may learn gladly to sacrifice what seems his
personal interest for the good of humanity as a whole.
Let us
beware that we do not misunderstand this. I do not mean by that any development
of cheap sentimentalism. Men who are new to this study sometimes think that it
is expected of them that they shall attain to the level of loving all their
brethren alike. That is an impossibility even if it were desirable; and to see
that this is so we have only to turn to the example of the highest of men.
Remember that it is related of Jesus himself that he had his beloved disciple
St. John, and of the Buddha that he was more closely attached to the disciple
Ananda than to many others who possessed greater powers and higher advancement.
It is not demanded of us, it is not intended, that we should have the same
feeling of affection towards all. It is true that such affection as we now feel
towards those who are nearest and dearest to us, we shall presently come to
feel for all our brother-men; but when that time comes our affection for those
whom we love best will have become something infinitely greater than it is now.
It will mean that our power of affection has grown enormously, but not that it
has ceased to be stronger in one case than it is in another — not that all the
world has become the same to us,
What
is important for us now is that we should regard all mankind, not with hostility,
but in that friendly attitude which is watching for an opportunity to serve.
When we feel deep affection or gratitude towards some person we watch
constantly for an opportunity to do some little thing for him to show our
gratitude, our respect, our affection, or our reverence. Let us adopt that
attitude of ready helpfulness towards all mankind; let us be always prepared to
do whatever comes to our hand — ever watching for an opportunity to serve our
fellow men, and let us regard every contact with another man as an opportunity
of being useful to him in some way or other. In that way we shall learn to
build into our character these important virtues of love and unselfishness.
SlNGLE-MINDEDNESS
Another
necessary quality is that of single-mindedness. We must learn that the great
object of our lives is to make ourselves a channel for the divine force, and
that that object therefore must always be the determining factor in any
decision that we make. When two paths open before us, instead of stopping to consider
which of these two would be best for us individually, we must learn to think
rather which is the noblest, which is the most useful, which will bring most
good to other men. When in business or in social life we take some step which
appears advantageous for us we should ask ourselves in all sincerity, "Can
this thing, which seems as though it would bring good to me, do some harm to
some one else ? Am I making an apparent gain at the cost of a loss to some
other man ? If that be so I will have none of it; I will not enter upon any
such course of action. For that cannot be right for me which brings harm to my
brothers; I must never raise myself by trampling down others." Thus we
must learn in everything to make the highest our criterion, and steadily little
by little to build these virtues into ourselves. The process may be a slow one,
but the result is sure.
SACHITTA
PARIYODAPANAM
Nor
must we forget the third line of the Buddha's verse: "Cleanse your own
heart". Begin with your thoughts; keep them high and unselfish, and your
actions will follow along the same line. What is required is intelligent
adaptation to the conditions of the true life. Here on the physical plane we
have to live in accordance with the laws of the plane. For example, there are
certain laws of hygiene, and the intelligent man adapts himself carefully to
them, knowing that if he does not his life will be an imperfect one and full of
physical suffering. Every cultured man knows that to be the merest common
sense; yet we see daily how difficult it is to induce the ignorant and
uneducated to comply with these natural laws. We who have learnt them adapt
ourselves to them as a matter of course, and we realize that if we did not do
so we should be acting foolishly, and if we suffered from such action we should
have only ourselves to blame.
We who
are students of occultism have through our studies learnt much of the
conditions of a higher and grander life. We have learnt that just as there are
certain physical laws which must be obeyed if the physical life is to be lived
healthily and happily, so there are the moral laws of this higher and wider
life, which it is also necessary to obey if we wish to make that life happy and
useful. Having learnt these Jaws, we must use intelligence and common sense in
living according to them. It is with a view of adapting ourselves to them that
we watch, ourselves with reference to these qualities of which we have spoken.
The wise man takes them one at a time, and examines himself carefully with
reference to the quality which he has chosen, to see where he is lacking in it.
He thinks beforehand of opportunities for displaying that quality, yet he is
always ready to take other unexpected opportunities when he finds them opening
up before him. He keeps that quality, as it were, in the back of his mind
always, and tries perseveringly from day to day, and every moment of the day,
to live up to his highest conception of it. If he thus keeps it steadily before
him, he will soon find a great change coming over him; and when he feels that
he has thoroughly grounded himself in that, so that its practice has become a
habit and a matter of instinct with him, he takes up another quality and works
in the same way with that.
NO
MORBID INTROSPECTION
That
is the method of procedure, yet we must be careful in adopting it not to fall
into a common error. We may remember
that the Buddha advises his disciples to follow the middle path in everything,
warning them that extremes in either direction are invariably dangerous. That
is true in this case also. The ordinary man of the world is asleep in regard to
the whole of this question of the cultivation of character; its necessity has
never dawned above his horizon, and he is blankly ignorant with regard to it.
That is one extreme, and the worst of all. The other extreme is to be found in
the constant morbid introspection in which some of the best people indulge.
They are so constantly mourning over their faults and failings that they have
no time to be useful to their fellow men; and so they cause themselves
unnecessary sorrow and waste much strength and effort while making but little
real progress. A little child who has a piece of garden for himself is
sometimes so eager to see how his seeds are growing that he digs them up before
they have really started in order to examine them again, and so effectually
prevents them from springing at all. Some good people seem to be just as
impatient as is such a child; they are constantly pulling themselves up by the
roots to see how they are growing spiritually, and in this way they hinder all
real advancement.
Self-examination
and self-knowledge are necessary; but morbid introspection is above all things
to be avoided. Often it has its root in a subtle form of self-conceit — an
exaggerated opinion of one's importance. A man should set his face in the right
direction; he should note his faults and failings, and strive to get rid of
them; he should note the good qualities in which he is lacking, and endeavour
to develop them within himself. But when he has formed this firm resolve, and
in doing his best to carry it into effect, he can well afford to forget himself
for the time in the service of his fellow men. If he will but throw himself
into earnest unselfish work, in the very act of doing that work he will develop
many useful qualities. Having controlled the mind and the senses, let him think
often of the highest ideals that he knows; let him think what the Masters are,
what the Buddha is, what the Christ is, and let him try to mould his life
towards theirs; let him work always with this end in view, and let him try to
raise himself towards "the measure of the stature of the fullness of the
Christ". Remember that he told us, "Be ye perfect, as your Father in
heaven is perfect." Remember also that he would never have uttered those
words if it had not been possible for man to fulfil that command. Perfection is
possible for us because immortality is a fact; we have all eternity before us
in which to work, and yet we have no time to lose; for the sooner we begin to
live the life of the Christ, the sooner we shall be in a position to do the
work of the Christ, and to range ourselves among the saviours and the helpers
of the world.
C. W.
LEADBEATER
END OF
THIS BOOK
CREATED
BY WISDOM DRAGONS
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