Path Stories

Living and practicing the Dhamma as a householder, among family and friends.
Post Reply
User avatar
Nicholas
Posts: 2081
Joined: Tue Jul 05, 2016 8:21 pm
Location: California

Path Stories

Post by Nicholas »

David Pratt wrote this tale of aspirants, Masters, magic, the path and Shambhala:

http://davidpratt.info/warrior0.htm
Last edited by Nicholas on Mon Dec 26, 2016 8:57 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Truth is against the stream of common thought, deep, subtle, difficult, delicate, unseen by passion’s slaves cloaked in the murk of ignorance. Vipassī Buddha
User avatar
Nicholas
Posts: 2081
Joined: Tue Jul 05, 2016 8:21 pm
Location: California

Re: Path Stories

Post by Nicholas »

Here is one of WQ Judge's stories - A Weird Tale - which is not a total fiction.

http://www.theosociety.org/pasadena/wqj ... ales-1.htm
Truth is against the stream of common thought, deep, subtle, difficult, delicate, unseen by passion’s slaves cloaked in the murk of ignorance. Vipassī Buddha
User avatar
Nicholas
Posts: 2081
Joined: Tue Jul 05, 2016 8:21 pm
Location: California

Re: Path Stories

Post by Nicholas »

Kenneth Morris, a Welsh theosophist wrote some full length stories, this one may still be found in print. It is set in ancient America, among the Toltecs:

http://www.theosociety.org/pasadena/dra ... gon-hp.htm
Truth is against the stream of common thought, deep, subtle, difficult, delicate, unseen by passion’s slaves cloaked in the murk of ignorance. Vipassī Buddha
User avatar
Nicholas
Posts: 2081
Joined: Tue Jul 05, 2016 8:21 pm
Location: California

Re: Path Stories

Post by Nicholas »

From about 1920; in two parts:

The Initiate Some Impressions (1932).pdf
(12.62 MiB) Downloaded 1567 times
Truth is against the stream of common thought, deep, subtle, difficult, delicate, unseen by passion’s slaves cloaked in the murk of ignorance. Vipassī Buddha
User avatar
Nicholas
Posts: 2081
Joined: Tue Jul 05, 2016 8:21 pm
Location: California

Re: Path Stories

Post by Nicholas »

Another chiller warning of dangers from our passionate ego...

https://www.teozofija.info/Russell_Tragedy.htm

How it begins...
A Tragedy in the Temple
by George William Russell - A.E.

I have often thought with sadness over the fate of that comrade. That so ardent and heroic a spirit, so much chivalry and generosity should meet such a horrible fate, has often made me wonder if there is any purpose in this tangled being of ours; I have hated life and the gods as I thought of it. What brought him out of those great deserts where his youth was spent, where his soul grew vast knowing only of two changes, the blaze of day and night the purifier, blue, mysterious, ecstatic with starry being Were not these enough for him? Could the fire of the altar inspire more? Could he be initiated deeper in the chambers of the temple than in those great and lonely places where God and man are alone together? This was my doing; resting in his tent when I crossed the desert, I had spoken to him of that old wisdom which the priests of the inner temple keep and hand down from one to the other; I blew to flame the mystic fire which already smouldered within him, and filled with the vast ambition of God, he left his tribe and entered the priesthood as neophyte in the Temple of Isthar, below Ninevah.
Truth is against the stream of common thought, deep, subtle, difficult, delicate, unseen by passion’s slaves cloaked in the murk of ignorance. Vipassī Buddha
User avatar
Nicholas
Posts: 2081
Joined: Tue Jul 05, 2016 8:21 pm
Location: California

Re: Path Stories

Post by Nicholas »

Everything I quote from in this thread is either in public domain or the site makes the story available with no strings attached.

Such as this advice from wise and wonderful Guru Merodach (or was it AE - or both?):

http://www.teozofija.info/Russell_Euphrates.htm
Truth is against the stream of common thought, deep, subtle, difficult, delicate, unseen by passion’s slaves cloaked in the murk of ignorance. Vipassī Buddha
User avatar
Nicholas
Posts: 2081
Joined: Tue Jul 05, 2016 8:21 pm
Location: California

Re: Path Stories

Post by Nicholas »

What to say or do to bring comfort to self & others:

http://www.teozofija.info/Russell_Comfort.htm
Truth is against the stream of common thought, deep, subtle, difficult, delicate, unseen by passion’s slaves cloaked in the murk of ignorance. Vipassī Buddha
User avatar
Nicholas
Posts: 2081
Joined: Tue Jul 05, 2016 8:21 pm
Location: California

Re: Path Stories

Post by Nicholas »

Long, long ago and yet, Apollo's timeless presence:

http://www.teozofija.info/Russell_Mask.htm
Truth is against the stream of common thought, deep, subtle, difficult, delicate, unseen by passion’s slaves cloaked in the murk of ignorance. Vipassī Buddha
User avatar
Nicholas
Posts: 2081
Joined: Tue Jul 05, 2016 8:21 pm
Location: California

Re: Path Stories

Post by Nicholas »

One of young Russell's dream-visions:
The nebulous mid-region between waking and unconsciousness was the haunt of many strange figures, reflections perhaps from that true life led during sleep by the immortal man. Among these figures two awoke the strangest feelings of interest. One was an old man with long grey hair and beard, whose grey-blue eyes had an expression of secret and inscrutable wisdom; I felt an instinctive reverence for this figure, so expressive of spiritual nobility, and it became associated in my mind with all aspiration and mystical thought.

The other figure was that of a young girl. These two appeared again and again in my visions; the old man always as instructor, the girl always as companion. I have here written down one of these adventures, leaving it to the reader to judge whether it is purely symbolical, or whether the incidents related actually took place, and were out-realized from latency by the power of the Master within.

With the girl as my companion I left an inland valley and walked towards the sea. It was evening when we reached it and the tide was far out. The sands glimmered away for miles on each side of us; we walked outwards through the dim coloured twilight, I was silent; a strange ecstasy slowly took possession of me, as if drop by drop an unutterable life was falling within; the fever grew intense, then unbearable as it communicated itself to the body; with a wild cry I began to spin about, whirling round and round in ever increasing delirium; Some secretness was in the air; I was called forth by the powers of invisible nature and in a swoon I fell. I rose again with sudden memory, but my body was lying upon the sands; with a curious indifference I saw that the tide was on the turn and the child was unable to remove the insensible form beyond its reach; I saw her sit down beside it and place the head upon her lap; she sat there quietly waiting, while all about her little by little the wave of the Indian sea began to ripple inwards, and overhead the early stars began softly to glow.

After this I forgot completely the child and the peril of the waters, I began to be conscious of the presence of a new world. All around me currents were flowing, in whose waves dance innumerable lives; diaphanous forms glided about, a nebulous sparkle was everywhere apparent; faces as of men in dreams glimmered on me, or unconsciously their forms drifted past, and now and then a face looked sternly upon me with a questioning glance. I was not to remain long in this misty region, again I felt the internal impulse and internally

I was translated into a sphere of more pervading beauty and light; and here with more majesty and clearness than I had observed before was the old man of my dreams.

I had though of him as old but there was an indescribable youth pervading the face with its ancient beauty, and then I knew it was neither age nor youth, it was eternalness. The calm light of thought played over features clear cut as a statue's, and an inner luminousness shone through the rose of his face and his silver hair.

There were others about but of them I had no distinct vision.

He said, "You who have lived and wandered through our own peculiar valleys look backwards now and learn the alchemy of thought." He touched me with his hand and I became aware of the power of these strange beings. I felt how they had waited in patience, how they had worked and willed in silence; from them as from a fountain went forth peace; to them as to the stars rose up unconsciously the aspirations of men, the dumb animal cravings, the tendrils of the flowers. I saw how in the valley where I lived, where naught had hindered, their presence had drawn forth in luxuriance all dim and hidden beauty; a rarer and pure atmosphere recalled the radiant life of men in the golden dawn of the earth.

With wider vision I saw how far withdrawn from strife they had stilled the tumults of nations; I saw how hearing far within the voices, spiritual, remote, which called, the mighty princes of the earth descended from their thrones becoming greater than princes; under this silent influence the terrible chieftains flung open the doors of their dungeons that they themselves might become free, and all these joined in that hymn which the quietude of earth makes to sound in the ears of the gods. Overpowered I turned round; the eyes of light were fixed upon me.

"Do you now understand?"

"I do not understand," I replied. I see that the light and the beauty and the power that enters the darkness of the world come from these high regions; but I do not know how the light enters, no how beauty is born, I do not know the secret of power."

"You must become as one of us," he answered.

I bowed my head until it touched his breast; I felt my life was being drawn from me, but before consciousness utterly departed and was swallowed up in that larger life, I learned something of the secret of their being; I lived within the minds of men, but their thoughts were not my thoughts; I hung like a crown over everything, yet age was no nearer than childhood to the grasp of my sceptre and sorrow was far away when it wept for my going, and very far was joy when it woke at my light; yet I was the lure that led them on; I was at the end of all ways, and I was also in the sweet voice that cried "return;" and I had learned how spiritual life is one in all things, when infinite vistas and greater depths received me, and I went into that darkness out of which no memory can ever return.
From The Hour of Twilight
Truth is against the stream of common thought, deep, subtle, difficult, delicate, unseen by passion’s slaves cloaked in the murk of ignorance. Vipassī Buddha
User avatar
Nicholas
Posts: 2081
Joined: Tue Jul 05, 2016 8:21 pm
Location: California

Re: Path Stories

Post by Nicholas »

Choosing path of evil or good...

http://www.teozofija.info/Russell_Power.htm
Truth is against the stream of common thought, deep, subtle, difficult, delicate, unseen by passion’s slaves cloaked in the murk of ignorance. Vipassī Buddha
User avatar
Nicholas
Posts: 2081
Joined: Tue Jul 05, 2016 8:21 pm
Location: California

Re: Path Stories

Post by Nicholas »

HP Blavatsky wrote occult stories, with some help from a Sage. Here is a book of them, probably still in print.

https://www.theosociety.org/pasadena/ni ... ght-hp.htm
Truth is against the stream of common thought, deep, subtle, difficult, delicate, unseen by passion’s slaves cloaked in the murk of ignorance. Vipassī Buddha
User avatar
Nicholas
Posts: 2081
Joined: Tue Jul 05, 2016 8:21 pm
Location: California

Re: Path Stories

Post by Nicholas »

An occult mystery tale - Idyll of the White Lotus - set in ancient Egypt with comments by a theosophist:

http://www.philaletheians.co.uk/study-n ... -lotus.pdf
Truth is against the stream of common thought, deep, subtle, difficult, delicate, unseen by passion’s slaves cloaked in the murk of ignorance. Vipassī Buddha
User avatar
Nicholas
Posts: 2081
Joined: Tue Jul 05, 2016 8:21 pm
Location: California

Re: Path Stories

Post by Nicholas »

A new edition of a Mable Collins tale, which Blavatsky helped her with:

https://www.amazon.com/Blossom-Fruit-Lu ... 203&sr=1-1
Truth is against the stream of common thought, deep, subtle, difficult, delicate, unseen by passion’s slaves cloaked in the murk of ignorance. Vipassī Buddha
User avatar
Nicholas
Posts: 2081
Joined: Tue Jul 05, 2016 8:21 pm
Location: California

Re: Path Stories

Post by Nicholas »

Amazing story based on the life of Franz Bardon, a magician that the Nazis wanted, but he worked against them:

https://videostream1.heartscenter.org/l ... gician.pdf
Truth is against the stream of common thought, deep, subtle, difficult, delicate, unseen by passion’s slaves cloaked in the murk of ignorance. Vipassī Buddha
User avatar
Nicholas
Posts: 2081
Joined: Tue Jul 05, 2016 8:21 pm
Location: California

Re: Path Stories

Post by Nicholas »

Nicholas wrote: Wed Apr 21, 2021 9:01 pm A new edition of a Mabel Collins tale, which Blavatsky helped her with:

https://www.amazon.com/Blossom-Fruit-Lu ... 203&sr=1-1
Here is Collins' Preface:
The great contending forces of good and evil we see battling in the world on
every plane. This book is called the story of a black magician because it
shows the struggles and mistakes of one who has been an adept in black
magic, and who is endeavoring with great force, but very blindly, to reach
towards the White Brotherhood and learn good instead of evil. Fleta, who, in
her earlier incarnation, took power selfishly into her own hands, became by
virtue of that power a black magician: one who has knowledge and uses it
for selfish ends.
We see her at the masked ball, in the first chapter, endeavoring
by her arts to attract the companion of many of her past lives;
but her object in doing this is to bring him directly under the influence of
Ivan, that one of the White Brotherhood who, in his divine pity, has
stretched his hand out towards her. Her aim is to being the occultists' great
work of saving others, especially those whom she has formerly injured. But
through what terrible experiences she passes, and those about her, in this
endeavour! We see her falling back instinctively on her old rites and using
her old powers; we see Hilary deceived by his senses and passions. Fleta
forgets that the Lotus flower can only bloom within one's own soul; but oh
reader, do not judge of Fleta, nor of her relation to the White Brotherhood,
till you have seen her fierce career to its end and read the words in which, at
last, Ivan says, "Enter."
Truth is against the stream of common thought, deep, subtle, difficult, delicate, unseen by passion’s slaves cloaked in the murk of ignorance. Vipassī Buddha
Post Reply

Who is online

Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 5 guests