In the Sushupti state, one might or might not find the object of his earnest search, and as soon as it is found, the moment the desire to bring it back to normal consciousness arises; that moment Sushupti state is at an end for the time being. But one might often find himself in an awkward position, when he has left that state. The doors for the descent of the truth into the lower nature are closed. Then his position is beautifully described in an Indian proverb: “The bran in the mouth and the fire are both lost.” This is an allusion to a poor girl who is eating bran, and at the same time wants to kindle the fire just going out before her. She blows it with the bran in her mouth; the bran falls on the dying ashes, extinguishing them completely; she is thus a double loser. In the Sushupti state, the anxiety which is felt to bring back the experience to consciousness, acts as the bran with the fire. Anxiety to have or to do, instead of being a help as some imagine, is a direct injury, and if permitted to grow in our waking moments, will act with all the greater force on the plane of Sushupti. The result of these failures is clearly set forth by Patanjali.[9]
Even where the doors to the lower consciousness are open, the knowledge brought back from Sushupti state, might, owing to the distractions and difficulties of the direct and indirect routes of ascent and descent, be lost on the way either partially or wholly, or become mixed up with misconceptions and falsehood.
But in this search for knowledge in Sushupti, there must not remain a spark of indifference or idle inquisitiveness in the higher consciousness. Not even a jot of lurking hesitation about entering into the state, nor doubt about its desirability, nor about the usefulness or accuracy of the knowledge gleaned on former occasions, or to be presently gleaned. If there is any such doubt or hesitancy, his progress is retarded. Nor can there be any cheating or hypocrisy, nor any laughing in the sleeve. In our normal wakeful state it always happens that when we believe we are earnestly aspiring, some one or more of the elements of one or more of our lower consciousnesses belie us, make us feel deluded and laugh at us, for such is the self-inconsistent nature of desire.
In this state, which we are considering there are subjective and objective states, or classes of knowledge and experience, even as there are the same in Yagrata. So, therefore, great care should be taken to make your aims and aspirations as high as possible while in your normal condition. Woe to him who would dare to trifle with the means placed at his disposal in the shape of Sushupti. One of the most effectual ways in which western mystics could trifle with this, is to seek for the missing links of evolution, so as to bring that knowledge to the normal consciousness, and then with it to extend the domain of “scientific” knowledge. Of course, from the moment such a desire is entertained, the one who has it is shut out from Sushupti.[10]
The mystic might be interested in analyzing the real nature of the objective world, or in soaring up to the feet of Manus,[11] to the spheres where Manava intellect is busy shaping the mould for a future religion, or had been shaping that of a past religion. But here the maximum and minimum limits by which nature controls, are again to be taken account of. One essential feature of Sushupti is, as far as can now be understood, that the mystic must get at all truths through but one source, or path, viz: through the divine world pertaining to his own lodge (or teacher), and through this path he might soar as high as he can, though how much knowledge he can get is an open question.
Let us now inquire what state is the seership of the author of our poem “The Seer,” and try to discover the “hare’s horns” in it. Later on we may try to peep into the states of Swedenborg, P. B. Randolph, and a few of the “trained, untrained, natural born, self-taught, crystal, and magic mirror seers.”
I look at this poem solely to point out mistakes so as to obtain materials for our study. There are beauties and truths in it which all can enjoy.
In ancient days it was all very well for mystics to write figuratively so as to keep sacred things from the profane. Then symbolism was rife in the air with mysticism, and all the allegories were understood at once by those for whom they were intended. But times have changed. In this materialistic age it is known that the wildest misconceptions exist in the minds of many who are mystically and spiritually inclined. The generality of mystics and their followers are not free from the superstitions and prejudices which have in church and science their counterpart. Therefore in my humble opinion there can be no justification for writing allegorically on mysticism, and by publication, placing such writings within reach of all. To do so is positively mischievous. If allegorical writings, and misleading novels are intended to popularize mysticism by removing existing prejudices, then the writers ought to express their motives. It is an open question whether the benefit resulting from such popularization is not more than counterbalanced by the injury worked to helpless votaries of mysticism, who are misled. And there is less justification for our present allegorical writers than there was for those of Lytton’s time. Moreover, in the present quarter of our century, veils are thrown by symbolical or misleading utterances, over much that can be safely given out in plain words. With these general remarks let us turn to “The Seer.”
In the Invocation, addressed evidently to the Seer’s guru,[12] we find these words:
“When in delicious dreams I leave this life,