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Blessed Chelas Climbing the Highest Mountain:
The dribblings of human inadequacy continue to plague mankind. "Enough!" they cry, when it is not enough. The being of man, surfeited by an abundance of mortal excess, in weariness of soul wantonly seeks new and bizarre methods of pleasure-madness. The innkeepers continue to turn away the infant Messiah, and the marketplaces of life are crowded with the afflictions of Babylon. I am reminded of the cry of the ancient Mariner,
And all the boards did shrink;
Nor any drop to drink.1
The words of the Good Shepherd "Feed my lambs,"2 spoken unto Peter, index the great cosmic need of the thirsty souls of the travelers. How shall men escape, save the way of culture of the Spirit? What folly it is to permit entrapment of the soul in the charnel houses of Egypt! What bondage mankind have woven for others, and with what snares do they entrap themselves! We see the pure soul in all of its flaming brilliance neglected while the energies thereof are running as a thousand-legged insect into form density and the beautiful spirals of the Spirit are often untraveled and empty! What is the grief of heaven, and how shall the flood of human tears serve to substitute for the divine yearning beyond the veil?
Woe unto the earth and its inhabitants who preserve every iniquitous thing and draw taut the strings of neglect that hold back the needs of the spirit! The labourers in the Lord's vineyard are few, and many are there without scrip or purse3 while silken garments adorn the unrighteous. Yet the gift of divine abundance stems from the largess of the great heart of God.
The wonders of our retreats, made without hands,4 ever continue to dazzle the eyes of the beholder. There is no substitute for the treasures of heaven; and those who are enamored with the outer achievements of men will do well to pause and remember that the gracious, sustaining strands of the Spirit - the divine connection from the heart of God to the beating hearts of men - ought not to be scorned.
Those who are tempted by the demons of suicide ought to recognize the great price which Life has placed upon their heads and fling defiance in the face of this evil tempter! They must be determined to stand, face, and conquer at all costs. For it is better to fling one's life away in a vain effort to overcome than to do so for the bane of nothingness.
In probing `neath the petty purposes of men, I have often uncovered strands of great aspiration. Men who have sought in the past to rule a nation wisely are today enthroned within a small household. Some who have been content to work for a penny a day are now rulers of men and would sell their position for a penny. The green grass that grows on the other side of the fence can sometimes be attained, as the cattle do, by stretching the neck. Yet often the best pasture is found in the valley of self-discernment.
To know oneself is not always to probe the depths of subconscious memory but to scale the summit of identification with immortality. To preserve one's shadows is not necessary when facing the light. Leave them behind; for while they lengthen as the sun goes down, they diminish each hour from the rising. Remember the zenith, for then the light of the Presence stands directly overhead. It is the Sun of man's being, that luminous orb wherein the precious treasures of heaven are deposited, that releases the correct vibratory action into the world of men.
At times even the myopic ones make the best travelers along the perilous pathway. When they arrive upon the mountaintop to encamp, they sometimes do so with discontentment of spirit. Such as these enjoy the climb and the pursuit of virtue more than they do the finding thereof. Men of normal vision are fortunate, for their perspective is blessed with balance. The spinning wheel of life has turned out the nubbed threads, and the garment cannot be of greater refinement than the thread. When the thread of consciousness is refined, the clean linen can be woven upon the loom.
The wise see our abode as one of Spirit and, in fearlessness, they save their own lives. The worthy masons see in the placing of each brick the shining of celestial spires, raised stone upon stone. Perfidy yawns like a pinching chasm to break the bones; it is the chinks in men's armor that must be guarded. The whirling follies of others seem as nebbishes of ridicule to some, while their own creations pass unnoticed. How shall we scale Olympian heights with the spirit of injustice? The herdsman extended a rough arm, clad with homespun cloth, and it was rejected by the climber, who fell upon the rocks of pride.
The shining of the pure in heart
Is like a light upon the hill -
It illumines the earth with good will,
It is fragrant like the pine upon the hill,
Whose solitary vigil
Through the lonely hours of each night,
Drinks in the mellow tenderness of each day's sun,
And calmly awaits the blowing away
Of the covering clouds.