Canadian Theosophist XXXIII, September 1952, p.99
THEOSOPHY, THE MOVEMENT, AND THE DWELLER
By Eileen Margaret Walker
In the beginning is the Word of Theosophy, and the Word comes to our ears from a living person. As the Bible says, the Word was with God and the Word was God; so, for a certain type of theosophical student, it is natural that Theosophy should be identified in his mind with the person he regards as his immediate teacher. This unrealized identification may grow until Theosophy and the "guru" are psychologically inseparable in his consciousness.
Now, the literature left by H.P. Blavatsky and William Q. Judge is replete with warnings about this natural misunderstanding, and so the student, as he goes on, obscures the fact of his error by parroting the words of the Great Theosophists. He may, in all sincerity, warn others not to mistake the transmitter for the Message, the bucket-brigade for the Teachings themselves. As he continues firm in his own opinion, sure of his own judgment, and loyal to his little guru, he steadily elevates himself in his own estimation -- and necessarily elevates his preceptor, simultaneously. In practice, of course, he thinks he is merely recognizing greatness more and more, and the little guru might encourage this view of things. On they go -- loyal student, adoring chosen teacher, and chosen teacher praising faithful pupil for his developing intuition and spirituality.
Submerged, apparently forever, is the vision of the Path as first glimpsed, that Path on which one goes forward only by his own "UNHELPED EXERTIONS." Forgotten by pupil and teacher alike, lost in the scrap-heaps of endless intellectualizing, is the knowledge of their own ignorance, the ignorance they set out to conquer and dispel. Uninvited, leftout of daily, waking consciousness, is the actual presence of the true Gurus W.Q.J., H.P.B., and the theosophical Mahatmas.
The pupil, drawn along in the wake of a pupil-teacher, seeks no further. All the hints and directions about the Guru-chela relationship which his eye falls upon in the theosophical writings, he applies merely to his personal relationship with his idol. The chela must obey without question, he says to himself -- and rushes out to do what his mentor does, without understanding why. The chela must have absolute trust and confidence in the guru, says the book -- Aha! says he, I must shut my eyes even tighter, and then my inner eye will see the light! The guru's ways are not the ways of the world, it is written -- and forthwith the chela throws overboard his last shred of discrimination: If I do not interfere with my spiritual evolution by too much independent thinking, I shall be the better able to accept the occult way of looking at things!
The chela must forget his personal nature -- thus runs the teaching. No wonder, muses the chela to himself, that my guru seems so sharp and cutting in his remarks, so forthright in castigating faults and failings, so apparently heartless in judging others! I had thought, smiles the chela to himself, that this was slander and condemnation and unbrotherliness, now I see that these are the subtle signs of the higher life, the life of spirit and compassion absolute, how remarkable that so wise a guru should spend even a moment upon such a simple fool as I!
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The circle of mutual adulation is complete. The chela abases and debases himself more with every new glimmer he obtains of the Path and its pilgrims. The more determined is his devotion, the more it leads him to abrogate his self-reliance; the more sincere his aspiration, the loftier the pedestal upon which he places his personal guru. When he studies the teachings, his guru's face is reflected upon every page; when he fathoms some little portion of the nature of H.P.B. or the Mahatmas, he immediately confers upon his own idol the new virtue, the latest adept-power recognized. He prides himself on not trying and not expecting to understand, where once his burning purpose was to understand all -- the universe and himself. He glories in not asking questions which would reflect a possible lack of faith, while holding himself disdainfully aloof from the mentally lazy and obtuse.
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Where does it end? What will change the course of the descending spiral toward authority and auricular confession? For we must not omit to mention that the little guru has gradually established a pucka confessional; the chela is expected to tell all, to seek advice constantly and about every phase of his life and doings, and to pray for theosophical forgiveness and absolution. If the guru understands and forgives, the chela need not be concerned about those whom his sins have wronged; the guru's occult compassion absolves him from the necessity of making karmic amends (or so he imagines).
There is, perhaps, no spiritual authority, no little guru, who does not claim the power of absolution, and who does not insist upon auricular confession. Absolution is a prerogative the guru seizes for himself; confession is a power conferred by the misguided devotion of the would-be chela, who thereby gives up his own prerogative of free choice and integrity. Together, these two -- absolution and auricular confession -- indicate the presence of what may be called the Dweller of the Threshold of the Theosophical Movement . . . . .
Many hints have been given, throughout the literature of Theosophy, about the Dweller of the Threshold -- a phrase introduced by Bulwer-Lytton in his novel, Zanoni. Here, it may be well to review several key statements. For example, speaking of the ripening of good and evil seeds by the study of occultism, William Q. Judge takes occasion to remark: "The dweller of the threshold in Zanoni is no fiction. It is ever with each student, for it is the baser part of humanity that he begins in real earnest as never before to fight. At the same time, the brightly shining Adonai is also there to help and save if we will let that be done." Again, in "A Weird Tale," Mr. Judge has the guru say:
You have read Zanoni, and perhaps have an exaggerated idea of the horrible Dweller of the Threshold, making of her a real person or thing. But the reality is much worse. When you get into what you have called the 'peaceful places,' this power becomes tenfold stronger than it is found to be on the plane in which we now live in London . . . .
On that plane it is found that, although from the spiritual sun there falls upon us the benign influence of those great sages who, entering para-nirvana, throw off their accumulated goodness for our benefit, the evil influence that is focussed by the dark side of the moon falls as well, and with its power undiminished. The little temptations and difficulties of your life are as nothing compared to that struggle, for then it is realized that the self is the enemy of the self, as well as its friend.
But it is in "Living the Higher Life" that the fullest explanation of the Dweller appears, Mr. Judge stating that the form it assumes in individual cases depends upon several factors, among them: "which form, more or less monstrous or incongruous, would be the most frightful and overpowering to him at the critical period." The Dweller, writes Mr. Judge, differs only in degree from the ordeals of chelaship, and both appear in the student's life "as often as the stock of his karmic stamina falls below the minimum limit."
We are concerned, however, with the "Dweller of the Movement," and in this connection we shall revert to H.P. Blavatsky's signal article, "Theosophy or Jesuitism?" Jesuitism, H.P.B. once wrote, is "an enemy common to all . . . . and that only because of auricular confession." Tracing the fortunes of the Jesuits, their undercover work in and through various organizations, she leaves the reader more prepared to distinguish between the essence of Theosophy and the "dry rot" represented by jesuitism, in whatever form it appears. Particularly significant is the prophecy that climaxes the article: "When the conquerors of all the ancient nations are in their turn conquered by an army of black dragons begotten by their sins and born of decay, then the hour of liberation for the former will strike." (Italics are H.P.B.'s) What the "black dragons" would be is not precisely explained by H.P.B., but they may stand, in one sense, for the false gods -- either Christian or theosophical -- created in man's own image by untutored faith and blind devotion.
H.P.B.'s last line in "Theosophy or Jesuitism?" is: "This [the conquest by the army of black dragons] will be the result of the work of the Jesuits, who will be its first victims, let us hope." The reason for this hope -- a strange one, we may think, for H.P.B. to voice, even about an enemy common to all -- may appear as we realize that the first victims are rarely the jesuits themselves, but are, instead, their betrayed devotees . . . . .
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Returning now to our little chela and his little guru, let us see if we can detect the approach of the Dweller; for if the pupil is sincere, devoted, persistent, and aspiring, he reaches what is by comparison with the world of material life -- a peaceful place, and there, awaiting him, is not only the accumulated goodness cast off by great sages, but also the shadow of the dark side of the moon (the eighth sphere?). In the struggle, to use W.Q.J.'s words, "it is realized that the self is the enemy of the self, as well as its friend."
In other words, the candidate realizes that he has seriously confused the lower self with the Higher Self, the voice of the blind personality for the voice of the silence. The struggle, the trial, is within his own heart and head; the reverberating question is, Which voice is true? Over and over, in and out of all the convolutions of brain and mind, the ego circles the field, trying to find a place to land, a steady spot whereon to stand, a clear view upon which to rest his nightmare-haunted eyes. "The self is the enemy of the self; but how do I know which is truth and which is falsehood? The self is the friend of self but how can I trust any friend in this darkness?"
The reality of the Dweller is worse than if it were a real person or thing, we are told. Why? Because persons and things we have coped with before, even evil ones, and we know that no matter how evil they are, there is always a redeeming feature if only for the sake of life's eternal law of contrast. Then, too, a person or a thing that does or causes evil to come to us may be unconscious of the harm wrought, the tragedy accomplished. The Dweller, however, is evil incarnate, the baser part of humanity isolated, unmodified, and consciously propelled. It makes the form most calculated to terrify and overpower the chela at the critical period when his karmic stamina is temporarily diminished, that is, when his forces are insufficient. The form may be like none other that has ever been imagined or feared; or it may be no form at all -- and the more horrible for being invisible, intangible, and unrecognizable.
A state of sudden nervous exhaustion in which life seems too much to bear, and the peace of death the only possible salvation; a feeling of depression so complete that the mind does not even wonder at it, but sinks gradually into a stupor of idiocy, as if into quicksand; a dream experience so coldly gruesome as to be doubly unreal; a strangle-tension in the solar plexus, on the heart or the lungs, or at the pit of the throat; a literally blinding headache, sense of smell and taste cut off, or strange shooting pains in vital centers; showers of grief or tears that rage fiercely and briefly, coming without warning and leaving for no apparent reason. The list is endless, the phases infinite, the planes of action and influence unnumbered, because the Dweller of the Threshold, like the Path whereon it is encountered, varies with the pilgrim.
The Dweller may be associated with a person or a thing; it may accompany one who knows naught of its presence -- or it may be the ruling principle in a shattered mind, a "lost soul," or in one of the "living dead." As in insanity, the power of discrimination waxes and wanes, now present, now absent, so the Dweller may overshadow its human medium or vehicle only occasionally, in certain situations, in particular moods, and with special persons. Or, it may dwell constantly in its human shell, simply being unnoticed, unknown, or unadmitted by most of those who come within its radius.
A routine conversation is in progress between two people, when one feels a sudden and peculiar psychic shock, perhaps goes "dead," except for a thread of life and will by which consciousness precariously continues. One sits by, watching a tissue of deliberate lies being woven before his eyes -- seeing a trusted associate accept the dreadful maya as the unvarnished truth. One sees crimes of slander -- "murder in cold blood" -- committed against upright fellow-disciples; crimes of lust and possession inflicted upon the innocent, the childlike, and the simple of heart; crimes of greed and ambition perpetrated under cover of sacred names and holy causes; crimes of hate and fear frantically multiplied to shut an honest mouth, close a wise eye, deaden a sharp ear, and obliterate all but devotees blinded by unreasoning faith.
Of such are the signs of the Dweller of the Threshold for the Theosophical Movement: "an army of black dragons begotten by sins and born of decay." Again and again, on this plane, the Movement has been abandoned, as its recruits allowed the Dweller to sweep the field.
Periodically, throughout the cycles, brave servants of the Lodge of Masters have made "clean places" in which to plant the great ideas, have faced the Dweller formed by the reflex of the Spiritual Will, have poured out Light for mankind, while measuring the "dark shadow that follows all innovations." For a while, the Witness, the Messenger, the Teacher acts as a lightning-rod for the company of disciples, staving off the mental woe unspeakable that befalls the candidate-on-trial, protecting with the Guardian Wall those who have not yet prepared themselves for "future and far greater miseries and sorrow."
But the cycle runs its course, and the Great Guru retires where only thoughts can reach, where only high aspirations can climb, where those of eager, guileless soul alone can follow. The Dweller is left behind, together with the company -- or the handful of half-taught disciples. Now the second half of the chela's lesson is to be completed, the part that must be learned by himself, in himself. The pupil must match his confidence in his teacher's power to teach with an equal confidence in his own power to learn. He goes forth alone, to test the strength of his will and determination. The time of trial may find him surrounded by friends -- turned enemies, brothers -- turned betrayers, and a teacher turned into a "golden idol on feet of clay." He can expect to be wildly misjudged, fanatically feared and hated, and thoroughly be-slavered by vicious tongues and slimy minds.
Every inducement will be offered him to give up the fight (and let the Dweller win!), to cease taking things so seriously, to plod along placidly once more behind a theosophical bandwagon. Ostracism is promised, and a goodly portion delivered in advance. Defeat -- utter and inglorious -- is confidently prophesied, albeit the prophets are not aware of precisely what the battle is about.
Yet, for all the splendid isolation in which the disciple endeavors to stand his ground, he is not without the sympathy and assistance of allies who, all unbeknownst to himself, "sit in the chariot" with him and mark carefully the progress of the battle. The Master wrote Col. Olcott in March, 1875, about H.P.B.: "The Dweller is watching closely, and will never lose an opportunity, if our Sister's courage fails." And in May, Olcott received instructions as to how he and another of H.P.B.'s associates, Elbridge Brown, might help their "sister" in her hour of trial:
She must encounter once more and face to face the dreaded one she thought she would behold no more. She must either conquer -- or die herself his victim . . . . How solitary, unprotected, but still dauntless, she will have to face all the great perils and unknown mysterious dangers she must encounter... Brother mine, I can do naught for our poor Sister. She has placed herself under the stern law of the Lodge and these laws can be softened for none. As an Ellorian she must win her right . . . . . The final result of the dreaded ordeal depends on her and her alone, and on the amount of sympathy for her from her two brothers, Henry and Elbridge, on the strength and power of their will sent out by both to her wherever she may be. Know, O Brother, that such will-power, strengthened by a sincere affection, will surround her with an impenetrable shield, a strong protecting shield, formed of the combined pure good wishes of two immortal souls -- and powerful in proportion to the intensity of their desires to see her triumphant . . . .
- Personal Memoirs of H. P. Blavatsky, Neff, pp. 236-37.
Again, in June, Olcott was advised: "Brother Henry must have the Wisdom of the Serpent and the gentleness of a lamb, for he who hopes to solve in time the great problems of the Macrocosmal World and conquer face to face the Dweller, taking thus by violence the thresholds on which lie buried nature's most mysterious secrets, must Try first the energy of his Will power, the indomitable resolution to succeed, and bringing to light all the hidden mental faculties of his Atma and highest intelligence, get at the problems of Man's Nature and solve first the mysteries of his heart . . . . ."
Thus, the Doctrine of the Eye is easily acquired, but he who seeks to master the Doctrine of the Heart treads a "weary Path of woe." He must leave behind the comfortable hypocrisy of auricular confession, the cherished cant of absolution, and, the poisonous pablum dished out by spiritual authorities, apostolic successors, and false gurus of every stripe and pretension. With his own highest mental faculties -- which remain hidden until he arouses an unconquerable will to succeed -- he must look human nature in the face and understand why self, undiscriminated from Self, makes his own heart a mystery; an enemy and a friend. Firm in will, dauntless in courage, strong in moral power, he stares out of countenance the Dweller of the Threshold, and enters the mystery of his own heart -- the indwelling Spirit, the Voice of the Silence for him who has ears to hear.
The consummation is afar off, it seems. The student theosophist does not face H.P.B.'s tremendous ordeal. But, who knows when the first trials may begin? At the first shadow, and all along the way, the disciple will need to remind himself of the words of his living, human Guru, H.P.B., the lion-hearted: "Self-confidence is the first step to that kind of WILL which will make a mountain move: 'To thine own self be true, and it must follow, as the night the day, thou can'st not then be false to any man'."
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Dost thou not comprehend, at last, that it needs a soul tempered, and purified, and raised, not by external spells, but by its own sublimity and valor, to pass the threshold, and disdain the foe? - E. Bulwer Lytton, in Zanoni.
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