(4) Track out among the things in heaven and upon earth that soul of mine, wherever it abideth

(25) "These experiences, when they have come to one, have left him in a new state of mind, and he has never been the same man afterward. Although the keenness of the recollection has worn off, there remains a certain memory which long afterward proves a source of comfort and strength to him, especially when he feels faint of faith and is shaken like a reed by the winds of conflicting opinions and speculations. The memory of such an experience is a source of renewed strength—a haven of refuge to which the weary soul flies for shelter from the outside world which understands it not. From the writings of the ancient philosophers of all races, from the songs of the great poets of all peoples, from the preachings of the prophets of all religions and times we can gather traces of this illumination which has come to them—this unfoldment of spiritual consciousness. One tells the story in one way, the other in other terms, but all tell practically the same essential story. All who have recognized this illumination, even in a faint degree, recognize the like experience in the tale, song, or preaching of another, though centuries may roll between them. It is the song of the Soul, which when once heard is never forgotten. Though it be sounded by the crude instruments of the semi-barbarous races, or the finished instruments of the talented musician of today, its strains are plainly recognized. From Old Egypt comes the song—from India of all ages—from Ancient Greece and Rome—from the early Christian saint—from the Quaker Friend—from the Catholic monasteries —from the Mohammedan Mosque—from the Chinese Philosopher—from the legends of the American Indian hero-prophet—it is always the same strain, and it is swelling louder and louder, as many more are taking it up and adding their voices or the sounds of their instruments to the grand chorus." The student must remember that in the experiences noted above, the individual simply has flashes, or period of dawning consciousness on this Sixth Plane of Consciousness, and is not to be regarded as having entered fully and completely into its manifestations, much less as having evolved into a state in which he functions normally and habitually on this high plane. There are beings—once men—who have evolved into the higher state in which they function normally and habitually on this plane of conscious being; but these individuals are no more than mere men, and have earned the right to be called "Demi-Gods." But, even as they once were men, so all men become as they now are by the unfoldment of this higher region of Self. These flashes of consciousness from this high plane are prophetic signs and messages indicating the awakening of the higher faculties, and giving assurance of further growth and unfoldment.

(4) followed by a thundering peal, without end and without beginning, now dying, now living, now sinking, now rising, on and on without a moment's break. And so you were afraid. "When I played again, it was the harmony of the Yin and Yang, lighted by the glory of sun and moon; now broken, now prolonged, now gentle, now severe, in one unbroken, unfathomable volume of sound. Filling valley and gorge, stopping the ears and dominating the senses, adapting itself to the capacities of things,—the sound whirled around on all sides, with shrill note and clear. The spirits of darkness kept to their domain. Sun, moon, and stars, pursued their appointed course. When the melody was exhausted I stopped; if the melody did not stop, I went on. You would have sympathised, but you could not understand. You would have looked, but you could not see. You would have pursued, but you could not overtake. You stood dazed in the middle of the wilderness, leaning against a tree and crooning, your eye conscious of exhausted vision, your strength failing for the pursuit, and so unable to overtake me. Your frame was but an empty shell. You were completely at a loss, and so you were amazed. "Then I played in sounds which produce no amazement, the melodious law of spontaneity, springing forth like nature's countless buds, in manifold but formless joy, as though poured forth to the dregs, in deep but soundless bass. Beginning nowhere, the melody rested in void; some would say dead, others alive, others real, others ornamental, as it scattered itself on all sides in never to be anticipated chords.

(1) In saying this, the reader shall put his lips close to the ear, and shall repeat it distinctly, clearly impressing it upon the dying person so as to prevent his mind from wandering even for a moment.

(2) At the third watch the disk of the sun sends out shining rays. On the water blows the wind of gentleness. Wandering in Heaven, one eats the spirit-power of the receptive. And the deeper secret within the secret: The land that is nowhere, that is the true home....

(33) I fly up to heaven and I alight upon the earth; and mine eye turneth back there towards the traces of my footsteps

(5) We can in our Misery never know where our Spirit abides when the Body breaks, and comes to be a Carcase, except we be again new-born out of this World, so we may dwell in this World as to our Body, and as to our Mind in another eternal perfect new Life, wherein our Spirit and Mind put on a new Man, wherein it must and shall live eternally; and then we first know what we are, and where our Home is.

(398) our souls’ health the rougher and severer poet or story-teller, who will imitate the style of the virtuous only, and will follow those models which we prescribed at first when we began the education of our soldiers. We certainly will, he said, if we have the power. Then now, my friend, I said, that part of music or literary education which relates to the story or myth may be considered to be finished; for the matter and manner have both been discussed. I think so too, he said. Next in order will follow melody and song. That is obvious. Every one can see already what we ought to say about them, if we are to be consistent with ourselves. I fear, said Glaucon, laughing, that the word ‘every one’ hardly includes me, for I cannot at the moment say what they should be; though I may guess. At any rate you can tell that a song or ode has three parts—the words, the melody, and the rhythm; that degree of knowledge I may presuppose? Yes, he said; so much as that you may. And as for the words, there will surely be no difference between words which are and which are not set to music; both will conform to the same laws, and these have been already determined by us? Yes. And the melody and rhythm will depend upon the words? Certainly. We were saying, when we spoke of the subject-matter, that we had no need of lamentation and strains of sorrow? True.

(14) But now, what this is, my Pen cannot describe. I rather long after it, to comprehend it more in Perfection, and to live therein; which we here in the Light of Nature (in the Gate of the Deep) hknow and behold; but we cannot raise our threefold Mind into it, till our i rough Garment be put off, and then we shall behold it without Molestation.

(13) "I am singing a song in myself. While you rest, praise. You have found what you seek."

(172) Explore the River of the Soul, whence, or in what order you have come: so that although you have become a servant to the body, you may again rise to the Order from which you descended, joining works to sacred reason.

(31) I journeyed years and months for love of that Moon, Heedless of the way, absorbed in God. With bare feet I trod upon thorns and flints, Seeing I was bewildered, and beside myself, and senseless. Think not my feet touched the earth, What knows the heart of road and stages? What of distant and near, while it is drunk with love? Distance and nearness are attributes of bodies, You journeyed from the embryo state to rationality Without footsteps or stages or change of place,

(1) MY beloved Reader, we tell thee this, that all Things from the Original of the Essence of all Essences (every Thing from its Originality) has its Driving [or Impulse] in its own Form; and it always makes that very Thing, with which the Spirit is impregnated; the Body must always labour in that wherein the Spirit is kindled. When I consider and think, why I write thus [many Wonders,] and leave them not for other sharper Wits, I find that my Spirit is kindled in this Matter, whereof I write; for there is a living running Fire of these Things in my Spirit, and thereupon (let me purpose what I will) yet this Thing continually moves and swims on the Top, and so I am captivated therewith in my Spirit; and it is laid upon me as a Work which I must exercise. Therefore seeing it is my Work that my Spirit drives, I will write it down for a Memorial, in such a Manner, as I know it in my Spirit, and in such a Manner as I attained to it, and I will set down no strange Thing, which myself have not tried [and known,] that I be not found a liar concerning myself before God.

(1) The heart of man has been so constituted by the Almighty that, like a flint, it contains a hidden fire which is evoked by music and harmony, and renders man beside himself with ecstasy. These harmonies are echoes of that higher world of beauty which we call the world of spirits; they remind man of his relationship to that world, and produce in him an emotion so deep and strange that he himself is powerless to explain it. The effect of music and dancing is deeper in proportion as the natures on which they act are simple and prone to motion; they fan into a flame whatever love is already dormant in the heart, whether It be earthly and sensual, or divine and spiritual.

(7) We paused immovable and in suspense, Even as the shepherds who first heard that song, Until the trembling ceased, and it was finished. Then we resumed again our holy path, Watching the shades that lay upon the ground, Already turned to their accustomed plaint. No ignorance ever with so great a strife Had rendered me importunate to know, If erreth not in this my memory, As meditating then I seemed to have; Nor out of haste to question did I dare, Nor of myself I there could aught perceive; So I went onward timorous and thoughtful.

(2) I am Seta at the confines of the earth. I lay myself down [in death], I restore myself and I renew myself daily

(43) When, through illusion, I and others are wandering in the Sangsara, Along the bright light-path of undistracted listening, reflection, and meditation, May the Gurus of the Inspired Line lead us, May the bands of Mothers be our rear-guard, May we be saved from the fearful narrow passage-way of the Bardo, May we be placed in the state of the perfect Buddhahood.

(1) Broke the deep lethargy within my head A heavy thunder, so that I upstarted, Like to a person who by force is wakened; And round about I moved my rested eyes, Uprisen erect, and steadfastly I gazed, To recognise the place wherein I was. True is it, that upon the verge I found me Of the abysmal valley dolorous, That gathers thunder of infinite ululations. Obscure, profound it was, and nebulous, So that by fixing on its depths my sight Nothing whatever I discerned therein. "Let us descend now into the blind world," Began the Poet, pallid utterly; "I will be first, and thou shalt second be." And I, who of his colour was aware, Said: "How shall I come, if thou art afraid, Who'rt wont to be a comfort to my fears?" And he to me: "The anguish of the people Who are below here in my face depicts That pity which for terror thou hast taken. Let us go on, for the long way impels us." Thus he went in, and thus he made me enter The foremost circle that surrounds the abyss.

(348) Give up what is before, give up what is behind, give up what is in the middle, when thou goest to the other shore of existence; if thy mind is altogether free, thou wilt not again enter into birth and decay.

(2) For as the sun the sight that trembles most, Even so the memory of that sweet smile My mind depriveth of its very self. From the first day that I beheld her face In this life, to the moment of this look, The sequence of my song has ne'er been severed; But now perforce this sequence must desist From following her beauty with my verse, As every artist at his uttermost. Such as I leave her to a greater fame Than any of my trumpet, which is bringing Its arduous matter to a final close, With voice and gesture of a perfect leader She recommenced: "We from the greatest body Have issued to the heaven that is pure light; Light intellectual replete with love, Love of true good replete with ecstasy, Ecstasy that transcendeth every sweetness. Here shalt thou see the one host and the other Of Paradise, and one in the same aspects Which at the final judgment thou shalt see." Even as a sudden lightning that disperses The visual spirits, so that it deprives The eye of impress from the strongest objects,