We have had many astonishing hours in Chapel talking about these "Guardians," the arrangements above, as below, one Plan governing all. We do not care to bandy about the name of God a great deal, for we realise that He is most unseen when embodied in matter; that He is apt to be far from the mind that makes familiar with Him in words. Yet all stands for Him, all reveals Him. The farther we can see beyond mere eyesight, the more we realise that He is not standing exactly in person, just outside of the boundaries of matter.
There are hierarchies, so to speak. There are messengers and couriers and charioteers, saints, pilgrims, angels, courtiers, priests and politicians, grades and authorities represented there, such as we find in Matter and Romance here.... Shuk and Steve and I used to hypothecate the existence of a White Council back of all the religious movements of the world. By humour and analogy and romantic speculation, we arrived at the point of view that the world religions are one at the top, and that initiates, illuminati, masters are stationed at intervals to help humanity up the slopes. We conceived the White Council as a centre of wisdom love and power, holding up the cup continually for revelation, guiding and guarding humanity's soul. We glimpsed the fact that the leaders of the White Council might be beyond embodiment—at least in avoirdupois—the holy of all holy men. Only a most pure and potent messenger, we thought, would be permitted to reach this Inner Temple, this Shamballah, compared to which the Vatican is a salon open to the public and the monasteries of Thibet a concourse for pilgrims.
After religion, we realised that there must be an upper centre for all that is represented here below so diversely in politics and nationalism. It couldn't be God Himself back of the dumas and senates, reichstags, diets and parliaments. One does not pass from elevator-boy to editor in chief in a great commercial office. If there were a White Council back of all the religious movements of the world, there must be a Big Mill back of all world-politics—a gathering of directors, venturing to judge the problems of men because they had risen above them.... These men could want nothing material. We perceived them behind armies and thrones, manipulating kings and diplomats and secret centres, in ways that even the closest agents did not understand.
We concluded there must be another centre made up of the master-artists, bringing through into matter (as the world can stand it and as the little human instruments reach up for them), the great delivering beauties of song and story, paint and verse and tale. And this we called the Shop Itself. Sometimes we fancied that it was all too much, even to dream of going there sometime to see the forms, the marbles, the canvases, the manuscripts—the Artists themselves.... And then we realised that, just as all the arts and all the religions and all the political movements were one at the top, that Politics and Art and Religion were one at the next eminence; that the Inner Council and the Big Mill and the Shop Itself were one at the top, just as Wisdom, Love and Power are; as Goodness, Beauty and Truth are; as Father, Son and Holy Spirit are—three in one at the Top, and that was Himself....
And then we would rise from Chapel and go out and look at the lake—Steve and Shuk and I.
Finally one day we were told that we had done some right good dreaming—that it was all true. We were advised that it was no affair of ours if other people didn't get it right away; that they would get it.... So we began to put these things in stories. They mean Romance to us. Queerly enough the stories are coming through—one long one especially, called Archer, that shows the downhere activities of the Big Mill and the White Council and the Shop Itself.
I have said it often in this book—that our culture consists of the quantity of properties that we have tallied off—the within with the without. The Kingdom is within, also the King; the Sky and the Nest are one; one are the heavens and the homing heart that finds its peace in the deep vales where the adorable humanities come to be. The inmost and the uppermost are one.
We are where the torch of consciousness is.
We are in the body, or in the mind, or in the soul; we are in time or eternity, or we pass back and forth.... First we tally off the far outposts of the kingdoms without and within; first we are mere sentries learning to become clear-eyed and brave to stand alone—almost outsiders, having scarcely heard of the Kingdom, dimly conscious, but learning to become steady-eyed. Then we are called in a little—called in to become couriers on foot, running to and from among the outer provinces of the kingdom; then messengers to the Middle Countries; then Charioteers to the gates of the City; then ministers to the court of the King....