Letters That Have Helped Me

by William Quan Judge; Julia Wharton Lewis Campbell Ver Planck Keightley

"Having received, freely give; having once devoted your life in thought, to the great stream of energy in which elementals and souls alike are carried—and which causes the pulse beat of our hearts—you can never claim it back again. Seek, then, that mental devotion which strains to give. For in the law it is written that we must give away all or we lose it: as you need mental help, so do others who are wandering in darkness seeking for light."

XII.

To-day I got your wire, "—— very low." This is a shock to me. I hardly believe it is the end at all. I cannot believe it, there is so much fire there. But I wired you to ask if I was to tell ——. Also to read 2nd ch. Bhag. Gîtâ. That, my dear fellow, solves all these troubles for me though it don't kill out immediate pain. Besides, it is Karma just and wise. Defects are in us all, and if this is the taking off why it means that a lot of obstructive Karma is thus at once and forever worked off, and has left —— free for greater work in better places. I would I were there with you. Tell him how much I love him and that in this era of Kali Yuga no sincere one, such as he, remains long away from the work there is to do. Words are of no use. I have sent thoughts, and those are useful, whether we are in the body or out of it. I sent every night lately all the help I could and continued through the day, not only to ——, but also you. It reached there, I know, but I can't overcome Karma if it is too strong.

Tell —— if it should come to the worst, that no regrets about the work are needed. What has already been accomplished there will last, and seethe and do its work for several years to come. So in that direction there could be nothing to regret. I cannot write —— directly: but if able to hear this—or maybe when it arrives—then head it as if it were to him, and not to you.

So, dear ——, in the presence of your wire this is all I can write. You know my feelings, and I need not say any more

As Ever.

XIII.

You did right to send me that letter. Of course, I am sorry to hear from you in that way, but am glad that you wrote. Let me tell you something—will you believe it? You are not in nearly such a bad way as you think, and your letter, which you sent me unreservedly, shews it. Can you not, from the ordinary standpoint of worldly wisdom, see it so? For your letter shews this; a mind and lower nature in a whirl, not in the ordinary sense, but as though, figuratively speaking, it were whirling in a narrow circle, seemingly dead, kept alive by its own motion. And above it a human soul, not in any hurry, but waiting for its hour to strike. And I tell you that I know it will strike.

If so far as your personal consciousness goes you have lost all desire for progress, for service, for the inner life—what has that to do with it? Do you not think that others have had to go through with all of that and worse; a positive aversion, may be, with everything connected with Theosophy? Do you not know that it takes a nature with some strength in it to sink very low, and that the mere fact of having the power to sink low may mean that the same person in time may rise to a proportionately greater height? That is not the highest path to go but it is one that many have to tread. The highest is that which goes with little variation, but few are strong enough to keep up the never ceasing strain. Time alone can give them that strength and many ages of service. But meanwhile there is that other to be travelled. Travel it bravely.

You have got the ——, which of the hells do you think you are in? Try to find out and look at the corresponding heaven. It is very near. And I do not say this to bolster you up artificially, for that would be of no use and would not last, even if I were to succeed in doing it. I write of facts and I think that somewhere in your nature you are quite well aware that I do so.