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Taking Theosophical
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The Skin of the Earth
By
William Q Judge
Published under the pen-name
of Bryan Kinnavan
The cold
materialism of the 19th century paralyzes sentiment and kills mysticism. Thus
it commits a double crime, in robbing man and preventing many classes of
sentient beings from progressing up the ladder that leads from earth to heaven.
So in telling these tales I feel sheltered behind the shield of the editor of
the magazine for which I write, for, were I to be known as believing that any
beings whatever other than man are affected by the mental negations of the
century, my life would soon become a burden.
This age
is so full of ignorance that it sees not and cares nothing for the groans that
are rolling among the caverns of mother earth fathoms deep below its surface.
Nor will it care until its contempt for what it calls superstition shall have
caused its ruin, and then -- another age will have risen and other men have
come.
It was not
so in our Sacred Island cycles ago. Then what we call superstition was
knowledge that has now been replaced by impudent scorn for aught save the
empiric classification of a few facts; a heritage of glory given up for a mere
statement of the limits of our ignorance. But I will plunge into the past and
forget the present hour.
Seven
months had rolled away since the time when, standing in the picture gallery, I
had seen the simulacrum of a dear friend blacken and disappear, and now on the
morning of the day when I was to pass by the mountain of the diamond, the news
was brought to me how head fallen faithless to his trust overcome by vanity
with its dark companion, doubt.
So, at the
appointed hour I waited for the messenger. Once again the white moonbeams shone
into the room and, revealing the monthly dial curiously wrought into the floor
and walls by a chemical art that allowed nothing to be revealed save by
moonlight after the 14th day of her course, told me in a language pale and cold
that this was the 17th day. I stood and watched the dial, fascinated by the
symbols that crept out with the silvery light, although for years I had seen
the same thing every month. But now as I looked some new combination of our
ancient magic was revealed. Every now and then clouds seemed to roll across the
floor, while on them rested the earth itself. This I had never seen before.
Seven
times it rolled by, and then I felt that near me stood the silent messenger.
Turning I saw him just as he stood when he called me to the gallery.
"Do
you not know this picture?" said he. "No. All is dark to me."
"It
is the sign that you are to come to the earth's hall beyond the gallery. Look
again closely at that rolling ball upon the clouds, and tell me what you
see."
These
words seemed to come not from the man's lips, but from all about him, as if the
air was full of sound. But obeying the direction I gazed at the picture and saw
that the surface of the mystic globe was moving, and then that myraids of small
creatures were coming through it.
"It
is time," said the sounds from all about the impassive being. "That
is the signal. We will go;" And he turned away.
I followed
while he led me up to the building and through the gallery of tell-tale
pictures where still in the silence the faces changed and the soft music
sounded. I would have lingered there to see those magic pictures, but a cord
seemed to draw me after my guide. As we approached the other end of the gallery
nothing was visible to the eye save a blank wall, but the messenger passed
through it and disappeared. Afraid to stop, unable to resist the drawing of the
invisible cord, I walked against the wall. One short moment of suspense and
with my breath held I had passed through; it was but a cloud, or a vapour --
and I was on the other side. Turning expecting to still see through that
immaterial wall, I found that it was impervious to the sight, and then the cord
that drew me slackened, for my guide had stopped. Stepping up to the wall, my
outstretched fingers went through it, or rather disappeared within it, for they
felt no sensation. Then the messenger's voice said, "Such is the skin of
the Earth to those who live below it."
With these
words he walked on again through a door of a large room into which I followed.
Here a faint but oppressive smell of earth filled all the space, and, standing
just inside the door-way now closed by a noiselessly moving door, I saw that
the whole place save where we stood was moving, as if the great globe were here
seen revolving upon its axis and all its motions felt.
As I gazed
the surface of the revolving mass was seen to be covered with circling hosts of
small creatures whose movements caused the revolutions, and all at once it
seemed as if the moving body became transparent, and within was filled with the
same creatures. They were constantly coming from the surface and moving to the
centre along well-defined paths. Here was the whole globe represented in
forcible miniature, and these creatures within and upon it of their own nature
moved it, guided by some mysterious Being whose presence was only revealed by
beams of light. Nor could the others see him, but his silent directions were
carried out.
These
little beings were of every colour and form; some wore an appearance similar to
that of man himself, others appeared like star blossoms of the sea, their pure
tints waxing and waning as they throbbed with an interior pulse of light.
Whatever their shapes, these seemed evanescent, translucent, and easily
dissipated; in their real essence the creatures were centres of energy, a nucleolus
around which light condensed, now in this form, now in that, with constant
progression of type and form. Some were more swift and harmonious in their
movements than others, and these I understood were the more progressed in the
scale of Being. Such had a larger orbit, and satellites circled about them.
Of such
systems the place was full, and all owned obedience to the subtle and interior
Power which I could not, discern. Each system existed for the service of all
the rest; each complemented and sustained the others as they swept onward in a
harmony that was labour and love. Their object seemed twofold; they assisted in
maintaining the revolutions of the earth upon its axis and in guiding it in its
orbit. They also grew through the ever-increasing swiftness of their own
motions into greater splendour and brightness, approaching greater
intelligence, coming ever nearer to self-conscious reason and love, and, as
they grew, stimulated the latent spark in the metals and all the underworld
growth as the lambent touch of flame awakens flame.
Guided by
the Unseen Power and in their automatic obedience (for to obey was their
nature), there were some who by the greatness of their own momentum and the
ferment of new forces attracted and gathering about them, seemed upon the point
of bursting into some fuller expansion, some higher state of intelligence and
life, but they were withheld by something that was not the Power guiding them.
Looking closer, I saw that an antagonistic influence was at work in the place.
The orbit
of many of these docile and beautiful creatures included a passage to and fro
through the mystic wall. Their duties were upon the earth as well as beneath
its surface; faithful fulfilment of these functions comprised an evolution into
higher service and a higher form. The malign influence often prevented this. It
seemed like a dark mist full of noxious vapour that deadened while it chilled.
As the clouds rolled into the hall their wreaths assumed now this shape and now
that, changeful and lurid suggestions of hatred, lust, and pride. Many of the
creatures coming in contact with these had that influence stamped upon their
sensitive spheres, giving them the horrid likeness which they were powerless to
shake off, and thus becoming servants of the baleful mist itself with altered
and discordant motions. Others were paralyzed with the chill contact. Others
were so taxed to make up for the partial suspension of their fellows' activity
that their work was unsteady and their orbital revolutions checked. But still
the whole throng swung on like some splendid creation, paling, glowing,
throbbing, pausing, a huge iridescent heart scintillating, singing through the
gloom. Here the mist was beaten back by greater efforts that jarred the
harmony; there it gathered, condensed, and in its vile embrace swept in bright
systems, stifling their motions, then leaving them paralyzed where they fell,
while it crawled on to fresh victims. And all through this strange picture and
wonderful battle I could see the dim cloud-like shapes of cities inhabited by
the men of earth, my fellows, and also the rivers, mountains, and trees of the
globe.
In my mind
the query rose, "Why do the earth's cities look like dreams?"
And there
upon the wall flashed out this sentence, while its meaning sounded in every
letter:
"When
you are being shown the elemental beings, the men of your earth and their
cities appear as clouds because it is not to them that your mind is directed.
Look yet again!”
I saw that
the evil mist had gathered strength in one part of the place, and had destroyed
the harmony and swiftness of so many of the little beings that the great
circling globe was moving off its axis, circling more and more, so that I knew
upon whatever earth this happened great changes would occur, and that in the
path of the mist there would sweep over man epidemics of disease and crime.
Horrified
at such impending calamities I sought for an answer and looked towards my
guide. As I did so he disappeared, and upon the wall his voice seemed to paint
itself in living letters that themselves gave out a sound.
"It
is the thoughts of men." I hid my face, appalled at owning such a
heritage, and when I looked again great jets spurted through the Skin of the
Earth, thoughts spouting and pouring out in miasmatic streams.
I would
have asked much more, but again from some vast distance came the tones of the
deep bronze bell; a shower of earth's blossoms fell about me; I had passed the
wall; my guide was gone; and I was alone in my own room reflecting on what I
had seen.
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