From the Editor’s Desk

Printed in the Spring 2018issue of Quest magazine.
Citation: Smoley, Richard,"From the Editor’s Desk" Quest 106:2, pg 2

Theosophical Society - Richard Smoley is editor of Quest: Journal of the Theosophical Society in America and a frequent lecturer for the Theosophical SocietyIt must have been twelve or fourteen years ago that I conducted an evening workshop in ritual magic at the New York Open Center in Manhattan.

It went off pretty well, although its goal was really nothing more than to illustrate certain basic principles. It did occur to me afterward that it may have been rather foolish to conduct a magical ceremony with a bunch of strangers who had walked off the streets of New York, but then perhaps the old saw should be modified to say that the good Lord looks out for little babies, drunken men, and, occasionally, ritual magicians.

In any case, the Theosophical literature is richly endowed with warnings about the dangers of occult magic, so I consider this readership sufficiently cautioned about this matter, and will go on to another subject: does magic work?

On the one hand, if occult magic doesn’t work, why is it found so universally? Superstition? Undoubtedly to a degree. The power of suggestion? Maybe, but maybe not. Max Freedom Long’s classic study of Huna or Hawaiian shamanism, The Secret Science behind Miracles, describes a case involving an Irish cabdriver in Honolulu, a young woman with whom he was up to no good, and her grandmother, who knew a thing or two about such matters. The cabdriver began to wither away from the feet up without knowing why. A doctor figured out what was going on: the young man had been subjected to the Huna death prayer. He intervened with the grandmother, and she let him know that she would put off the curse—on the condition that the cabdriver caught the next boat back to the mainland. “The situation had to be explained over and over again to the unbelieving Irishman,” Long writes, “but when the idea finally hit home, he became terrified and was willing to agree to any terms.” When he did, the symptoms went away. If the Irishman did not know about the curse and did not even understand the concept, it is hard to chalk up this case to suggestion.

On the other hand, if occult magic works, why has it fallen into disfavor, in Western societies at any rate?

Here is one suggestion: occult magic works, or it can work. But it is almost impossible to make it work without unexpected and undesired side-effects.

In his entertaining memoir My Life with the Spirits, magus Lon Milo duQuette describes his evocation of the spirit Orobas, described in the grimoire The Lesser Key of Solomon the King as “a Great and Mighty Prince, appearing at first like a Horse; but after the command of the Exorcist he putteth on the Image of a Man.” His “Office” is, among other things, “to give Dignities, and Prelacies, and the Favour of Friends and Foes.”

DuQuette, down on his financial luck, needed Orobas’s help, and, after invoking him, got it. He gave the spirit a tough assignment: he wanted his fortune to reverse itself—and within an hour.

The ritual worked. Within one hour, a friend of DuQuette’s showed up in a beat-up but functional car and gave it to him unasked. DuQuette was able to use the car to find and keep a job, and things improved from there.

Of course there is always something in these affairs that doesn’t go quite right. According to the principles of Solomonic magic, the magus has to keep the spirit’s sigil, written on a small piece of parchment, in a secret place. No one should touch it or even look at it.

DuQuette hit upon what he thought of as the perfect hiding place: he taped the sigil inside his guitar, which he allowed no one else near. Unfortunately, Kurt, a student of DuQuette’s and a talented woodworker, offered to refurbish the guitar in exchange for lessons. DuQuette agreed, having forgotten about the sigil, which, along with the guitar, left his possession for five days.

Kurt brought back a beautifully refinished guitar, but he told DuQuette he couldn’t stay for his first lesson, because he was off to the racetrack. Kurt had never had any particular interest in horseracing until the previous day, when he and his father went to the track. “I just fell in love with the horses,” he told DuQuette. “They’re so beautiful. They look like gods! When they look at me I feel like a horse!”

Remember that Orobas appears “at first like a horse.” Conceivably the spirit had gotten out (Kurt had handled the sigil while refurbishing the guitar), and despite DuQuette’s best efforts, continued to obsess the ill-fated student for the next fifteen years: “Sadly, his addiction to horseracing and other forms of gambling escalated year by year into self-destructive behavior that eventually rendered him a social cripple. The last time I saw him he was living in a small industrial shop—the walls of his cell surrounded by hundreds of color photographs and posters of racehorses.”

Although DuQuette adds that the sigil could not be blamed entirely for Kurt’s fate—he was undoubtedly an addictive personality to begin with—DuQuette speculates that this predisposition, along with many other factors, may have given birth “to an evil spirit—a demon horse who escaped its wizard just long enough to gallop madly into the weak and vulnerable soul of a weak and tragic human being.” With a bit of help from a grimoire and a magician.

Magic, you see, is unpredictable. You can’t completely control it, and it usually gives you some results that you hadn’t wanted. In a way, I’ve proven it here. Without intending to give you a warning about magic, I seem to have done so after all.

Richard Smoley


Efforts and Awakening: Insights from the Works of Maurice Nicoll

Printed in the  Spring 2018 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Lachman, Gary, "Efforts and Awakening: Insights from the Works of Maurice Nicoll" Quest 106:2, pg 24-28

Pictures of ourselves prevent us from seeing what we are like . . . You have, let us say, a picture of yourself being kind, just, self-sacrificing and full of good will . . . You do not realize that you are often cruel, selfish, unjust and sometimes full of evil will . . . Now in such cases you do not see your evil but project it on to others. That is, what you do not see in yourself you see reflected in the other person. (Psychological Commentaries, 3:964)

Psychological space is not visited by the physical body, but by the mind, the emotions, and the sensations . . . This invisible world is as real as physical space . . . This inner psychological invisible country, in which we really live our lives, has good and bad places. It has in it heaven, hell and an intermediate place. When we are in the negative part of the Emotional Centre, we are, inwardly, in hell. (Psychological Commentaries, 3:978)

The word translated throughout the New Testament as repentance is in the Greek meta-noia which means change of mind . . . The particle meta indicates transference, or transformation, or beyondness. The other part of this word— -noia—is from the Greek word nous, which means mind. The word metanoia therefore has to do with transformation of the mind. (The Mark, 92–93)

The idea of recurrence is ancient. It is an idea that has lurked in the background of man’s speculations about life from the beginning of European thought. But it is an idea that has so much latent content that we cannot expect any clear formulation of it. It is too deep. (Living Time, 160)

All sacred writings contain an outer and an inner meaning. Behind the literal words lie another range of meaning, another form of knowledge. According to an age-old tradition, Man was once in touch with this inner knowledge and inner meaning. There are many stories in the Old Testament which convey another knowledge, a meaning quite different from the literal sense of the words. The story of the Ark, the story of Pharaoh’s butler and baker, the story of the Tower of Babel . . . And in the Gospels the parable is used in a similar way. (The New Man, 1)

The right hand is ordinarily the more conscious. The more conscious side of a man is the external man, the side he makes use of most: the less conscious side is the inner, deeper man . . . The outer man is formed by contact with outer life, to adapt to life . . . A man with only an outer side developed towards life is a half-man—a one-sided man in the sense of a man cut longitudinally in half. He has one leg and arm and half a brain. There are two sides to a man, a right and left, an outer an inner. They have to be joined together to form the entire man. (Psychological Commentaries, 3:1067)

We are taught, as an exercise to increase consciousness, to try sometimes to take consciously the opposite view to the one we mechanically take. This is including the opposite, but not rejecting the other viewpoint. It is bringing the opposites together towards a middle by including both sides in consciousness. (Psychological Commentaries, 5:1566)

Man is given more than he needs, and this is one of the mysteries of life. He only uses part of his brain. He is given more than he needs for just living his natural life. He is given a far larger house than he uses, or needs for the purposes of ordinary life. As said, he has a brain which is bigger than is necessary for him. (Psychological Commentaries, 5:1764)

Through Self-Remembering we come under new influences which otherwise cannot reach us. If you feel the extraordinariness of your own existence, if you feel the miracle of your body, of your consciousness, of the world that surrounds you, if you begin to wonder who you are, then you are in the state necessary for Self-Remembering . . . In all this the sense of mystery is in us, the sense of the miraculous. It is not necessary to go to Tibet to find the miraculous. You can find it here, now, at this moment. (Psychological Commentaries, 2:601)

Man is both in Time and in Eternity. Eternity is vertical to Time—and this is the direction of Self-Remembering—the feeling of oneself now. Every now is eternal. To remember oneself the feeling of now must enter—I here now—I myself now—I distinct from past or future—the newness of myselfI now. And if the act is successful you will know for yourself that Eternity is always in now and can be experienced as a different taste of time. (Psychological Commentaries, 3:945)

The following six quotes are from Nicoll’s diary, found in Maurice Nicoll: A Portrait by Beryl Pogson, 180–211.

Every effort made individually lifts us above the trend of things, the swings of good and evil, which is life.

Taking life as a training for spiritual development—that is indeed the only message. It is beginning to transform it.

Nature invites us to think beyond the senses, which is the only solution to life’s meaning.

Is it not clear that to develop anything in oneself one must isolate oneself from collective influences?

Synchronicity puts us temporarily above the ordinary laws of horizontal time . . . through a special stroke of attunement, causing correspondence between outer life and inner life.

As soon as we begin to observe examples of synchronicity, we seem to attract them.

Emphasis in all quotes is from the original. Selections are by Gary Lachman.

SOURCES

Nicoll, Maurice. Living Time and the Integration of the Life. London: Watkins, 1981.
———. The Mark. London: Watkins, 1981.
———.The New Man. New York: Penguin, 1976.
———. Psychological Commentaries on the Teachings of Gurdjieff and Ouspensky. Five volumes. London: Watkins, 1980.
Pogson, Beryl. Maurice Nicoll: A Portrait. New York: Fourth Way Books, 1987.


The Alchemy of Adaptation

Printed in the  Spring 2018 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Levine, Arlene Gay, "The Alchemy of Adaptation" Quest 106:2, pg 20-21

 

By Arlene Gay Levine

How should we be able to forget about those ancient myths that are at the beginning of all peoples, the myths about dragons that at the last moment turn into princesses; perhaps all the dragons of our lives are princesses who are only waiting to see us once beautiful and brave.
―Rainer Maria Rilke

Theosophical Society - Arlene Gay Levine is the author of Thirty-Nine Ways to Open Your Heart: An Illuminated Meditation.From the instant we first draw breath, freedom is our imperative. This urge, which I like to call joy, sings in our blood even before we are born. It manifests as a goad to escape the bounds of the womb, followed by the constrictions of our nuclear family and on into the world of school, relationships, and work, where yet again we chafe at enforced limits and rules. Are we merely prisoners of the circumstances in our lives, or have we permitted a kind of negative magic to take hold in the form of an inverted comprehension of our true role in the cosmic play?

Did you ever consider what magic really is? There are countless blossoms on this tree, so many versions of the truth. To me, magic is something beyond the ordinary, whether it is in the way we think, see, believe, or live. Always there is the sense of a presence outside of ourselves and of time and space. Nikos Kazantzakis provides an elegantly simple formula in his novel Zorba the Greek: “Since we cannot change reality, let us change the eyes which see reality.” How might this unusual transformation come about?

When I was in my early thirties, I had a numinous encounter. Up until that point, the material, sense-oriented version of life here on earth clouded my thinking. Despite my comprehensive study of sages, saints, poets, philosophers, and esoteric systems, I often felt myself, particularly during difficult times, to be an insignificant piece on Somebody’s chessboard. How exasperating to be tossed about and battered by circumstances over which there appeared to be no control! Yet such irksome situations forced me unwittingly to learn and grow, bringing me by grace to this transformative event.

I was not blinded by the light of my mystical experience; on the contrary, I was finally allowed to see with new eyes, if only for that ecstatic interlude. The Light I knew then as Love offered the gift of freedom from the fallacy of separation. For me, this moment qualified as magic: clear, conscious self-identification with the One Life and thus with everything in existence. Even though this perception-altering event was fleeting, it became a beacon for all further work toward spiritual development. Much like alchemists of old who searched, step by step, in an attempt to turn “metal” (think human personality) into gold, I determined to continue in-depth experiments in this remarkable way of perceiving and participating in reality. I just did not yet know how to proceed.

A few days after this happened, feeling rather deflated and confused, I realized I had very little food in the house. The last thing I wanted to do then was visit the local market, but even newly minted mystics have to eat. The place was crowded and noisy. Being highly sensitive to both these conditions, I hurried to complete my chores. Out of the corner of my eye, a stack of purple leaflets near the checkout caught my attention. Without much thought, I serendipitously picked one up and stuffed it in a bag with the carrots and lettuce.

At home, relaxing with a cup of chamomile tea, I began to read. A woman was offering a yoga class several blocks away from where I lived. This was rather remarkable in my small suburb back in the early ’70s. Little did I know that the purple paper would be my introduction to another step toward enlightenment. Although it escaped me at the time, the English word union is the precise translation of the Sanskrit noun yoga. Soon yoga and all it encompassed became an important part of my process. Daily practice through meditation, breath, and bodywork advanced a slow but steady adaptation toward knowledge of my own true nature.

No longer could I accept old beliefs based on control and fear. I had encountered firsthand something entirely other, and the path of yoga confirmed this. Yes, there would always be trials to overcome. Now, however, I knew I was not alone or being manipulated by some arbitrary taskmaster. The real power that had opened my heart chakra with the golden Light of Love would provide both tests and the help needed to evolve.

Many artists speak of allowing “the brush to paint,” “the fingers to play the notes,” or “the words to arrive.” Is this magic? I believe so. They are really referring to a skill they have developed, through conscious receptivity, to become clear vehicles for Universal Will. Over time, maybe over countless lives, we can gradually learn to let the “little me” step out of the way “for the performance of the miracles of the One Thing,” as the Hermetic text The Emerald Tablet puts it. Only then may we experience the magic of true freedom.

Arlene Gay Levine is the author of Thirty-Nine Ways to Open Your Heart: An Illuminated Meditation (Conari Press) and Movie Life (Finishing Line Press). Her prose and poetry have found homes in an off-Broadway show, on the radio, in The New York Times, and in numerous journals. Visit at http://www.arlenegaylevine.com.

 


Something Is There

not really you and yet . . .
Something exists beyond
all those bits and pieces creating
whom you imagine you are,
more enigmatic than the mortal
looking back at your face
in the mirror every day.
It is the One gazing at you
from the inside, peaceful,
old as forever and younger
even than tomorrow.

When the you that you know,
perhaps falling short of how
you wish you could have been,
is no longer here, something,
that other boundless, soundless
Light made of Love who is and is not you,
will still be waiting,
an open hand inviting you to
the magnificence of its Mystery
once again . . .

 


Facing the Third Object: An Interview with Kurt Leland

Printed in the  Spring 2018  issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Price, Leslie, "Facing the Third Object: An Interview with Kurt Leland" Quest 106:2, pg 17-19

By Leslie Price

Kurt Leland is a familiar figure to members of the Theosophical Society in America. In addition to his work as a national speaker, he has contributed to Quest more than once. An interview with him appeared in our fall 2013 issue, and his article “The Rainbow Body: How the Western Chakra System Came to Be,” based on his book Rainbow Body: A History of the Western Chakra System from Blavatsky to Brennan (Ibis Press, 2016) appeared in our spring 2017 issue.

In the fall of 2017, Leslie Price of the Theosophical Society in England conducted an email interview with Kurt focused on the vexed topic of the Society’s Third Object: “To investigate unexplored laws of nature and the powers latent in humanity.” The interview appeared in part in Insight, the TSE house journal, and in full on the Insight website.

Leslie Price: You have published a new edition of C.W. Leadbeater’s book The Chakras (Quest, 2013) and edited Invisible Worlds: Annie Besant on Psychic and Spiritual Development (Quest, 2014). Besant was a supporter of Third Object work in the Theosophical Society. How can the Society today take the Third Object—“to investigate unexplained laws of Nature and the powers latent in humanity”—forward today?

Kurt Leland: During the first fifty years of the TS’s existence, Third Object studies focused on learning more about the universe of possibilities for intuition, thought, feeling, and action opened up by Theosophical teachings, such as those concerning subtle bodies and planes. After the deaths of Besant and Leadbeater in the early 1930s, the focus seems to have shifted away from accumulating such knowledge to proving that powers of clairvoyance and healing were latent in humanity and could be developed for the benefit of others and as a contribution to science. These goals were pursued by the Theosophical Research Centre, headquartered for many years in London.

Throughout the entire history of the TS, there have been struggles between experiencers and nonexperiencers of such powers over how to integrate such knowledge into sensible governance of the TS. Numerous schisms have left their scars, including distrust of people in the movement with claims of psychic and spiritual abilities. Nonexperiencers have been somewhat fundamentalistic about interpreting H.P. Blavatsky’s cautions against mediumship as a universal ban on such practices (whereas she actually said, “Subjective, purely spiritual ‘Mediumship’ is the only harmless kind, and is often an elevating gift that might be cultivated by every one”: Collected Writings, 6:329). A climate of fear, distrust, and discouragement of the development of psychic and spiritual abilities has arisen, based on the notion that such abilities are potentially dangerous to oneself and to the well-being of a group (as in cases in which charismatic individuals with claims to such powers try to take over an existing TS group).

In my role as national lecturer for the TSA, I’ve taken the following steps to rehabilitate the Third Object. First, I admit the potential dangers of development of psychic and spiritual powers—but I also point people toward the writings of Blavatsky, Besant, Leadbeater, and others within the movement that indicate how such development may be safely undertaken. There’s much wisdom of this sort in Theosophical writings, and it deserves to be better known, both within the TS and beyond.

Second, I encourage people to share their inner lives with each other within the context of TS gatherings—which may include dreams, out-of-body experiences, near-death experiences, mystical experiences, contact with deceased relatives, and so on. Such sharing deepens our connections with each other and builds lasting communities. There is too little such sharing in our society—and where better to make space for it than in the TS, where so much literature is devoted to understanding such experiences? I’ve been told that when I lead a meeting along these lines, no one wants to leave when the time is up, whereas when a meeting of the same group is engaged in intellectual discussion of Theosophical concepts alone, people run out the door when the hour is over.

I’ve come to realize that nearly everyone who is attracted to the TS has had at least one spiritual or mystical experience of some sort. Honoring that fact and encouraging further study of the theoretical basis of such experiences would go a long way toward encouraging visitors to join and groups to retain members.

Finally, I keep in mind something I learned from my training as a musician, which required many years of study of musical theory. When I was able to see the application of musical theory to a piece I was performing or composing, I experienced a moment of illumination that not only justified such study, but also revealed the composer’s practice in a new light and suggested ways of communicating what I’d learned to an audience.

Why shouldn’t our study of the Third Object do the same? The theory is amply presented in the works of Theosophical writers who were gifted with clairvoyance and other psychic and spiritual powers. TS groups contain members who have had such experiences. The art is to create a safe context for people to share such experiences and then suggest ways in which Theosophical theories, and writings, about subtle bodies and planes explain them. Then the teachings come alive.

Thus my recommendation for exploring the Third Object is not to create groups to try to prove anything about the existence of psychic or spiritual powers, or to lead people directly into the development of such powers, but to create a safe environment for discussing such things. The chief means of creating such safety is to distinguish between selfish and unselfish sharing. Selfish sharing is self-promoting: it tries to impress others with one’s spiritual status and tends to erode the principle of brotherhood. Unselfish sharing is made as a contribution to human knowledge and tends to support the development of brotherhood.

The failure of the TS to support Third Object studies in recent decades may have been the result of a loss of understanding of how these studies contribute to practice of the First Object of the TS, universal brotherhood. Even if we go no further in the development of our psychic and spiritual abilities than to empathize with the suffering of animals and our fellow human beings, we have taken an important step in linking the basis of all psychic and spiritual powers—the unity consciousness associated with the principle of buddhi, which Besant and Leadbeater called spiritual intuition—with the principle of universal brotherhood.

It is not perhaps a large step beyond that to realize there may be other, less tangible realms and beings who may also experience suffering as a result of human ignorance, to feel empathy and brotherhood with them, and perhaps through that fellow feeling, to embolden them to show themselves to our inner vision. It’s my belief that the emphasis on universal brotherhood in the TS encourages the development of unity consciousness and the principle of buddhi, and that there’s no safer way for our psychic and spiritual abilities to unfold than through constant immersion in unity consciousness in our thoughts, feelings, and actions.

Leslie: C.W. Leadbeater remains a controversial figure in the TS. As one of the few persons to produce a scholarly edition of one of his books (the best-selling The Chakras), can you see how we can come to a balanced appreciation of his contribution?

Kurt : I’ve come to see Leadbeater neither as a saint (an often encountered assessment in certain TS circles) nor as a “monster of depravity” (to use his own words to sum up reactions in some sections of the TS and beyond), but as a flawed human being trying to master socially and spiritually pernicious motivations—allegedly including pedophilic tendencies—and not always succeeding. Let me be clear that it is the pedophilia and not necessarily the homosexuality that I consider pernicious, and that I use the word pernicious only with regard to behaviors that were damaging to himself, others, and the Theosophical movement. The various exposures and scandals helped to keep him in check and could be seen as karmic interventions, perhaps even motivated by the Masters, to make sure that a valuable worker did not wander too far astray and to remind him that too much was at stake to be sacrificed for mere personal pleasure, especially when the psychological and spiritual well-being of his young male charges and the reputation of the TS were at stake.

As a society, we have learned since his time that it is always wise to make sure that there is more than one adult about whenever adults are supervising children. And with regard to persons of spiritual authority, we have also learned the detrimental effects of creating an air of superior knowledge and a charisma that bewitches people’s common sense and allows them to be manipulated or abused. Certainly unmerited claims of social or intellectual status or of wonderful if not miraculous physical or spiritual adventures—for example, the many untruths Leadbeater told to enhance his position in the eyes of others—have accompanied the establishment of spiritual movements preceding, contemporaneous with, and following Leadbeater’s involvement with the TS. Such things are important considerations for understanding the development of spiritual and religious movements within academia.

When we have set aside these personal and historical elements, what we have left is the value of Leadbeater’s teachings. I believe we are unwise if we accept them without acknowledging the personality flaws, but equally unwise if we reject them wholesale because of these flaws. Through studying various other movements, I’ve come to the conclusion that the clearer the information that is available to a teacher, the more likely it is that that teacher will fall as a result of personality flaws. They fall so that their followers are forced to take back the spiritual authority they gave up by joining such movements. This is a natural evolutionary process, and Leadbeater simply represents an expression of it within the TS. The larger teaching is that it isn’t safe or helpful for us to accept what any spiritual teacher says without examining its validity and usefulness for ourselves. We must develop discernment as well as reliance on our own internal spiritual authority.

Much of what Leadbeater taught has passed into New Age lore without question or challenge—though the people who pass it on are often unaware of its origins and may have developed or improved upon it. I think current scholarship should make those origins clear. Much of what has not been perceived as useful in Leadbeater’s teachings—for example, the voluminous information on the past lives of various TS members—has been forgotten, and probably rightly so. In general, I think the principles he taught are often valid and useful, but the details used to illustrate them may be subject to personal and cultural limitations. They can’t be taken literally, but they shouldn’t be entirely dismissed. Thus rehabilitation of Leadbeater would require extracting the principles from the historical and personal context in which they’re embedded. I’ve sometimes thought that a reader’s guide to Leadbeater’s writings might demonstrate how that sorting could be done, not only as a lesson in the development of discernment, but also as a means of assessing his legacy and influence on later developments in spiritualist, Theosophical, and New Age thought.

Leslie: At 50 Gloucester Place in London (the headquarters of the English Section) we have just had an international conference devoted to Annie Besant, with papers from several countries and the launch of a new biography: Annie Besant: Struggles and Quest by Muriel Pécastaing-Boissière. What research is now most needed into Annie Besant’s work?

Kurt : I’ve noticed as I travel to various TS groups around the United States that Theosophical lecturers and discussion groups focus on certain texts, such as The Secret Doctrine or The Mahatma Letters, or on certain ideas, such as karma or reincarnation. There is little historical consciousness, except with respect to those works. There is also perhaps a tendency to choose texts accepted by most Theosophists as authoritative. The result seems to me to be an unacknowledged leaning toward fundamentalism.

Given the vast scope of Theosophical literature produced after the death of Mme. Blavatsky in 1891, especially by Besant and Leadbeater, much of what it contains of personal and perhaps global value (especially in consideration of Besant’s powerful writings on universal brotherhood) is being passed over. Thus, within the TS itself, I would like to see an emphasis not merely on Theosophical teachings, but also on historical context within the movement—and especially on the development of skills of discernment in reading controversial works or writers to discover what may be of value, what may be outdated and require rethinking, and what may be questionable and require further investigation or should be set aside as unhelpful or pernicious.

In reading Blavatsky’s Collected Writings, I came to the conclusion that she was as much if not more interested in presenting Theosophy as a method of intellectual and spiritual inquiry than as a body of spiritual beliefs. The TS no longer seems to emphasize this method, though it would be of great help in evaluating problematic works and authors, and would perhaps be one of the most useful traits, besides universal brotherhood, for Theosophists to carry with them into the outside world, where religious and political fundamentalism is flourishing.

As far as academic scholarship is concerned, my wish is that equal attention be placed on Besant’s involvement with the TS and with Indian politics as has already been placed on her pre-Theosophical work for the free-thought movement, and laborers’, women’s, children’s, and animals’ rights. The latter subjects are academically fashionable and have led to a skewed perspective on Besant’s motivations and an implication that she went off the deep end when she joined the TS, rather than that she saw in Theosophical teachings a broader and more integrated platform (“the synthesis of science, religion, and philosophy,” as Blavatsky put it) from which to do the same work, not only in England, but in India.

Both within academia and the TS, I believe that researchers are limited in perceiving the full scope of Besant’s work by the large amount of material she produced, not only her 600 or more books and pamphlets, but also many presently unknown lectures, articles, editorials, and journals. Though a Collected Writings seems in order, the initial work of collecting her writings has not been done. There are enormous gaps in our understanding of her political work in India because the daily and weekly papers she produced there from 1914, New India and the Commonweal, are largely unknown. There are also many lectures and articles produced for the Esoteric School of Theosophy that are unavailable to nonmembers. This policy makes it difficult for historians to assess the development and scope of Besant’s clairvoyant abilities and activities.

Finally, I must admit to a personal bias against Besant’s World Teacher agenda on behalf of J. Krishnamurti. I have little confidence in most of her work produced after 1914, when she devoted herself so entirely to that agenda. And I think there are some Theosophists who dismiss her entire oeuvre on such a basis. However, I have recently been researching this phase of her life in depth and have begun to better understand her motivations. Such study has allowed me to bring a modicum of tolerance to my view of what she did. I no longer see her as simply mistaken, but as providing an object lesson in the dangers to spiritual organizations of certain beliefs and certain styles of leadership. We could all learn valuable lessons from her case.


 

Leslie Price is secretary of the Theosophical history conferences, held regularly at the Theosophical Lodge in England since 1986. He is also associate editor of the journal Theosophical History.

 


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