The Silent, Narrow Path

All the esoteric schools have taught, as the very foundation of their existence: "Man, know thyself!" It has always been so, and the key to it lies in many things. It lies in studying the suffering the knot of personality undergoes before it passes beyond the intricate labyrinth of selfishness; and, on a more exoteric (outward, open to all) plane, in reading the magnificent literature of past ages: the works of the brain, the heart and the soul, the works of the seers and sages of every age.

Above all, the key lies in loving others and in working to be able to forget oneself completely. Here too lies the mystery of Buddhahood and Christhood: to forget oneself, to merge into a boundless love that embraces all things.

A Narrow Boundary

In reality there is quite a narrow boundary between ordinary life and the neophyte or chela¹ who follows the path; yet some people imagine that the path of spiritual attainment lies far beyond the mountains of the future, somewhere almost unreachable. The difference, however, is not a metaphysical distance but a point of view. It is the same as the difference between the person who yields to temptation and becomes its slave and the person who successfully resists temptation and becomes its master.

Anyone who turns their will, devotion and aspirations toward greater service to others can enter the path. The only thing that keeps a person from taking this most beautiful of steps is the beliefs, psychological and mental prejudices that distort their point of view. We are all students; we all have illusions at different levels. Even the Mahatmas² and Masters, though they possess an extremely refined and lofty character, have illusions that keep them from rising higher. This is one of the reasons why they are so compassionate toward those who wish to advance along the path they themselves once walked successfully.

The quickest way to overcome these illusions is to cut them at the root, and that root is selfishness in its countless forms. Even the longing for progress for the sake of the self alone rests on selfishness, which produces its own subtle and powerful mayas. Therefore, unless every kind of ambition for achievement is wholly purged from the personality, it will inevitably overpower the wish to serve. For the way of inner growth is to forget oneself, to give up every personal ambition and longing, and to become an impersonal servant of all that lives.

It should be noted, however, that the aim of true occultism is not "to produce disciples," nor to turn people into stubborn individuals preoccupied solely with self-improvement. The aim is to regenerate our imperfect human nature, first toward a noble humanity and finally toward divinity. And this is possible along the ancient and traditional lines of teaching and discipline that have been recognized and followed for centuries.

The Heart of a Child

Chelaship is a vision from which faith and clear-cut actions are born. All the rules of moral conduct that may be read in the lofty sources of the ancient philosophies, as well as in Theosophical writings, are powerful aids that help the candidate cleanse himself of selfishness. The true ethical guides, however, are those that are unwritten. For this reason they are not bound to dogma; they do not easily fall captive to conventional concepts or to the misinterpretations of minds that merely argue over words. In essence they are utterly simple, for the most beautiful and most comprehensive truths are always the simplest.

There are times when I lay down my pen and say to myself: the simple truths that children can grasp with their unspoiled natures and their direct and quick perception are enough. It is hard to deceive a child for long. But when the neophyte is told that he must become a child again, this does not mean childishness or naivety. What we need is the heart of a child: a trusting, intuitive and wakeful heart.

Intellectual training is very valuable and a great help; but to be a child is the hardest lesson humanity has to learn. The brain-mind is a good instrument when it is directed and trained; left to itself and its impulses, it is a tyrant, because it is always selfish. Its vision is inevitably limited to the whirl within the lower and narrow field of consciousness of the personality's Manasic³ knot. Higher understanding belongs to the higher nature, and only that can reach the inner meaning of the teachings.

The lower mind can achieve a certain measure of success at the level of brain-mind comprehension, but only when it receives help from inner understanding. A person may be extremely sincere, very eager to learn, entirely ready to experiment and investigate, and yet be wholly lacking in the splendor of Buddhi⁴. The only test of whether one is worthy of it is the test one gives oneself. If the light of Buddhi shines even as a fleeting gleam, that is enough; then that person has the right to know the esoteric.

Conquering the Self

Self-conquest is the way of growth. The whole truth is hidden in these few simple words. As with all great things, this is a gradual growth; if it is to be attained, it must unfold from within. There is no way other than inner development, and there is no easy way: one who cannot control himself in the affairs of daily life, who does not know who or what he is, cannot control events either. The experiences that inevitably arise around anyone who manages to come even a little closer to "the hardest of all gates" point more or less in this direction.

Here there is a strange paradox: if one is to be master of oneself, one must be entirely selfless and yet entirely oneself. The lower self must be done away with; not killed, but done away with. This means that it is drawn inward and absorbed by the Higher Self. For the Higher Self is our essence, our true being; the lower self is nothing but a ray proceeding from it. This ray, so to speak, has become sullied and distorted because it is bound to the world by countless illusions.

The person most easily deceived is the one most entangled in maya⁵, and such people are usually the so-called worldly wise. You cannot deceive a Master; he sees the attempt at deception instantly. For maya is the illusions in the fields of our personality, and no hooks of personal attachment can be cast into his being. Nothing that can be done or said affects him; if your thought is even slightly selfish, far from universality, you cannot draw him into your thought. The Masters are above these illusions; they have battled them, recognized them and turned them back. Yet the Masters feel the slightest stirring of a true chela's soul before we ourselves are even aware of it. The call such a soul makes to them is immense, and upon it a magnetic affinity is quickly established.

The Choice Lies Within the Individual

Let us take the thought one step further: when a neophyte makes a conscious and genuine choice with the whole force of his being, he kindles a light within himself; this is the splendor of Buddhi. As has been said, this light is felt, watched and heeded by the teachers; and so the person comes to the stage of the "accepted" chela. But how long does this take? No one is chosen because the Magi (wise initiates) traveling the world find him suitable; that is not at all how it is. The choice lies within the individual: the person chooses his path, makes his decision. If the light of Buddhi is seen even as a single spark, at that moment he is accepted into chelaship, even though he himself may not know it. From then on, whether he succeeds or not, everything depends on him.

It is very rare for a person to know at once that he has been accepted. The general rule is that he is tested in a hundred thousand different ways; these tests arise from the ordinary events of life and from the candidate's responses to them. Once he has recognized his teacher, however, the path becomes both easier and harder. Easier, because there is at least a new conviction that a certain success has been achieved, and the courage and self-confidence this brings. Much harder, because he is now under more direct training and guidance; small delays and setbacks that were met with great tolerance at the beginning will from now on have very serious consequences.

Moreover, no teacher makes himself known to a student unless the student has already received many instructive intimations from his own inner being. The reason is plain: no one is ever accepted unless he has truly been accepted by his own inner divine being, that is, unless he has become more or less aware that a wonderful mystery is stirring within him.

Of course a certain level of progress is needed before such a choice; but every normal human being can make it, because in him spirit and matter have reached a more or less stable balance. In other words, anyone who can awaken the Christ light in mind and heart can take up chelaship, whatever stage he is at. What matters is that, when the time comes, he sacrifices his lower self on the altar stone. No human being's call for help goes unheard; but this holds when the call is for more light. When the call concerns personal gain, the opposite is the case. The test is impersonality.

Renunciation Is a Gain

Because the words renunciation and sacrifice are used so often, let us not suppose that they mean the loss of something valuable. On the contrary, this is not a loss but an indescribable gain. To give up the things that make a person small, petty and worse is to cast off our fetters and take on the freedom and richness of the inner life. Above all, it is the conscious recognition of one's essential oneness with all things.

It must be clearly understood that this training, made up of the study and disciplinary practices that arise from the spiritual and intellectual activities of the student's own soul, never interferes with or harms family rights or duties. Chelaship is nothing strange, bizarre or irregular; if it were, there would be no such thing as a brotherhood of chelas. It is the most natural path we should try to follow. For by uniting with what is noblest within ourselves, we gain the chance of entering into partnership with the spiritual forces that oversee and govern the universe. There is much inspiration hidden in this thought.

The life of a neophyte is very beautiful; as he participates in life more broadly, his degree of self-forgetfulness steadily increases. But it is also very sad, and this sadness comes from the fact that he cannot yet forget himself. He realizes that he is very lonely; he finds his heart longing for companionship. In other words, his human side wants to turn in another direction. Yet what makes a person a master of life is the absence of these weaknesses: the ability to stand alone, upright and strong under all conditions. But never think that the human feelings or sympathies of the Mahatmas have dried up and vanished. In reality the very opposite is true.

In them there is a life far swifter than ours; they are subject to a far more powerful, pulsating stream of life. Their sympathies are so vast that, although we shall one day understand them, we find it very hard to grasp them now. Their love embraces all things; it is not personal, it has become universal.

Chelaship is the effort to bring forth the master who lives within our own being, for he is there now. If we advance far enough, a time will one day come when we must leave even family duties behind. But then conditions will be such that this departure will be a blessing both for the person and for the one for whom he was formerly responsible. Still, let no one be deceived by the dangerous doctrine that the higher a person rises, the less he is bound by the moral law. The truth is the very opposite: it is never right to do wrong to another.

The Secret of Progress

At no step of this lofty path is there any compulsion from outside; there is only a sublime compulsion born of the aspiration of one who longs to go ever further. Each step is sealed by leaving behind something of the personal fetters and faults that chain us to these realms of matter. We have been told again and again, insistently, that the greatest rule of life is to cherish an infinite compassion toward everything that exists in one's own being. In this way we acquire altruistic qualities, and this makes it possible for the Monad⁶ continuing on its journey to become at last the self of the cosmic spirit, without any harm coming to its individuality.

Here lies the secret of progress: to be a sublime being, we must be on the way to becoming a sublime being; to be greater, we must abandon the lesser. For a person to embrace a solar system in understanding and in life, he must give up the personality; and this simply means transcending the limits of the human and rising above them. By letting go of our lower selves, by giving up selfishness, we gain the chance to pass into our greater self. No one can take even a single step toward the wider and all-embracing self that is his own higher nature until he learns that "living for the self" means descending into ever more narrowed and limited spheres, while "living for all that is" means expanding in such a way as to become the greater life of his own spirit. All the mysteries, all the secrets of the universe are hidden within us; every advance in esoteric knowledge and wisdom is nothing but the unfolding of what is already within us.

When we allow our minds to dwell on these infinitely consoling truths, we realize how small our human worries, which trouble us so much, really are. Nothing exists outside the knowledge of the divine. Small wonder that a Christian writer said that not even a sparrow falls without heaven's knowledge: even a single hair of our head has been counted and planned for. And how much more than that are we! Even this world of deceptive appearances and shadows is an inner and inseparable part of the Boundless from which we have manifested. One day the wings we have earned through our experiences will carry us back to the divine heart; they will bear us from the valleys to the distant mountain peaks of the Monad.