We sat in silence for a while after Sarah had departed with her angel, thinking that our next visit would soon begin, but presently the Ruby Angel pressed upon our minds that he would give us further teaching before this took place. It had no particular bearing, he explained wordlessly, on the visits; and yet he knew we had reached a plane of consciousness where we could understand.
“When a man reaches a state of understanding,” he ended, now speaking aloud in his firm voice, “then we angels regard it as a command. In the early stages of man’s life in Heaven it seems to him that the angels are the masters, however gentle they may be. In reality, this is not so. We angels live to obey the commands of men although these commands are almost always given unconsciously. As soon as man is ready for knowledge, his inmost soul cries aloud to the angels for this to be given to the conscious mind. Hearing this soundless, though piercing cry we hasten to fulfil the command. Thus, man’s needs governs all our intercourse with men in this realm.”
“Have we, then, cried soundlessly to you? ” I asked.
“Yes.” The Ruby Angel sat down, drew up his knees, put his arms on them and his face within his arms. Then he folded his wings as a shield around him and was very still.
Janet and I sat down beside him, leaned our backs against mossy tree trunks and waited. As we looked idly at the beautiful scene before us it seemed to blur and fade as though we were travelling in a slow vehicle at twilight. Presently, another scene came into view, a vista of water and mountains, of trees and of a narrow path leading over the mountains and out of sight upon the distant horizon.
“That pathway leads to the Place of Great Souls,” said the angel.
Now I say that he said this, although I cannot be sure. If he did, then his voice came to us thinly, muffled by his arms and folded wings. I think, however, that in reality he did not speak, but made his words known to us by means of the inner contact which was growing familiar to us now.
“Do you mean that these are very advanced men?” Janet asked. “Some of the Great Ones of whom you have spoken before?”
“I did not use the term ‘Great Ones,’ but ‘ Great Souls,'” said the angel. “There is a vast difference.” He paused, then added slowly:
The Place of Great Souls is that plane of consciousness wherein each dwells while his bodily life is lived on earth. When I say ‘great’ I do not, necessarily, mean ‘ advanced,’ but merely the greater part of the soul.”
We were so surprised at this that Janet and I exchanged a startled glance, then, speaking for both, I asked:
“But does not the whole soul dwell in the body of man? And how can a soul be divided, the greater part remaining in one place while the lesser part is in another?”
“Of course no soul can be divided.” Our angel’s words came firmly. “I said, if you will remember, that the Place of Great Souls is a plane of consciousness, not a place.”
“Then is that mountain-path connected with earth?” Janet asked in puzzled tone.
“Not physically. But that plane of consciousness wherein dwells the greater part of each man’s soul is closely connected with the soul on earth. As you say, soul being composed of spirit-matter, cannot be divided. There is a constant link between the lesser part of man’s soul, dwelling in his body on earth and the greater part dwelling in Heaven. Along this link flows the power and the wisdom-”
He broke off, leaving us to meditate awhile. We were amazed at his words. It seemed to us, then, that a part of man ever dwelt in Heaven and that only a lesser portion of his soul remained in man’s body during his earthly life. It was a stupendous thought.
“Yet what a comforting thought,” our angel pressed upon our minds. “You see, now, that man is not nearly so small, so helpless a being, and so cut off from Heaven as you once imagined.” (As he spoke, I realised that this knowledge had been growing within us for a long time, coming to us in little touches and glimpses, yet not strongly enough to be recognised fully.)
“Man,” said the Ruby Angel solemnly, “is a soul possessing, as it were, hands. He himself, while dwelling in the plane of consciousness of Heaven’s realm, puts forth a lesser part of himself into an earthbody, as though he put forth a finger and gently touched here and there, investigating, seeking, exploring.”
“If the greater part of himself lives in Heaven, how is it, then, that he does not know this while on earth?” Janet asked.
“The hand of a man has no consciousness of its own,” our teacher said. “If it is hurt, it sends a message along the nerve wires to the brain of a man. It has not, however, a consciousness of itself. It does not think, ‘I am a hand’ nor seek to act independently of the man. Although I have used the hands for a simile, the comparison is not as close as that. The lesser part of the soul in man, certainly, has no consciousness of the greater part, but it has consciousness of itself. It acts independently of its greater part, its ‘elder brother.’ The whole purpose of religion is to bring the lesser part into closer relation with the greater part. Much of Christ’s teaching to men of earth referred, not only to their need to follow Him as their Elder Brother, but their need to seek and follow that narrow path within themselves which leads to the greater soul, their own ‘elder brother.’ “Narrow path,” repeated Janet. “That is familiar.”
“‘Enter ye in at the strait gate and the narrow way.'” quoted the angel. “‘Ask and ye shall receive, seek and ye shall find, knock and it shall be opened unto you …. The Kingdom of Heaven is within you.'” Again he paused and then:
“What did all this mean, except that there is a narrow path within man where, following, he may come into contact with his greater self? That when he has found this self, he is ‘born again’? That contact with this greater self confers on him such great powers that they are looked upon as unearthly, miraculous? Consider the gifts of the disciples of Christ, when they spoke with tongues.”
He paused again and I murmured: “It seems almost too wonderful to believe; almost as though it were irreverent to think this.”
“Sons,” said the angel, “Sons of God and co-heirs with Christ, did not the master Himself speak of this truth? When the disciples marvelled at His wondrous works, did He not say: ‘And greater works than these shall ye do.’ Greater works even than the works of Christ Himself! Why? Because He was to go from them, to His Father. Hitherto they had thought of all their power coming through Him, but he taught them to look within themselves where they would find the path to the Kingdom of Heaven. If He did not leave them, they would not seek within themselves. Know this; all initiation into great powers, all possession of great gifts is merely that the initiate or gifted one has found the pathway to the Place of Great Souls. He may not be conscious of it, he may have but brief glimpses of it – but truly he steps for a moment on that path and receives a little of the power from his own greater self, his ‘elder brother.'”
“It seems a stupendous thought still,” I confessed.
“Sometimes,” the Ruby Angel continued, as though I had not spoken, “the greater soul is referred to as ‘the angel in Heaven.’ This does not mean one of us, the guides and teachers and ministers of Heaven’s realm. It means the greater soul of man. In children this hidden pathway in the soul is more open than in man, because as men grow they block the pathway with many obstacles of unbelief. For this cause it was said of children; ‘Their angels in Heaven constantly behold the face of the Father.’ How could it be otherwise? If the angel of a child constantly beheld the Father’s face, would not the angel of a man do likewise? But this ‘angel’ was the greater soul.”
“It is wonderful,” Janet breathed, seeking to make this truth her own.
“The parable of the Prodigal Son had a higher meaning, you see,” our angel-teacher explained. “The son who went forth from the Father was the lesser part of the soul which left the greater part in Heaven and went down the narrow pathway into an earthly body in the process which men call birth. There he forgot that he was a great being, son of God and co-heir with Christ. He forgot that this was his lesser soul and that his greater soul dwelt in Heaven, heir of Heavenly gifts and Heavenly powers. After much pain and anguish he remembered. He went back through the narrow way and found again his greater soul. (This was symbolised by the raiment his father put upon him. And then he once more came face to face with his father; he embraced him and he was received once more into the Kingdom).
“Oh, sons ” Suddenly the Ruby Angel sprang up, throwing up his arms in a wide gesture. “Never forget the Place of the Great Souls! Help men on earth to remember, show them the way to their secret pathway, the way so narrow that they must drop all their burdens of complete absorption in worldly possessions and greed. In this way they ‘sell all they have,’ in effect, and ‘give to the poor’ (those who are not ready, yet, to seek the pathway). And so they step upon the path, they renew their link with their greater souls, they come into their power! For this, for this, man lives on earth, that his lesser soul may send out probing fingers, may know, and grow by knowing; may return as a son who has earned his sonship. We angels are not asked to make this great journey down the narrow way, into forgetfulness on earth. Therefore, we honour men the more. For men are the warriors who go forth to battle and return victorious. We angels are the ones who remain in the heavenly home and wait and pray. Oh sons! Forget not the narrow way! Forget not your great destiny!
The Ruby Angel ceased. He sat down again, bowed his head on his arms and folded his wings. There followed a great calm.
THE END
]]>“Shall we go on a round of visits now?” suggested our angel. “I would like you to learn more of Heaven-sight.”
“How would a round of visits help us to learn that?” I asked, and Janet said: “We know a little of extended Heaven-sight…”
“Oh, the Ruby Angel intends to take us on the visits with our eyes only ” I cried triumphantly.
“You are quite wrong,” he said, smiling. “I want you to understand how people on different planes see the same scene but, because of their difference in growth, receive an entirely different picture.”
“Are they going to describe to us what they see?” I enquired contentedly, for whatever our angel suggested was always happiness to us.
As we had been speaking, the scene around us had been fading away as though evening had come rapidly upon us. I knew that this was not so, but that we had been winging our way into another hail or plane. Sometimes we moved with such rapidity that it was neither walking nor running – nor was it flying, for then the limbs would be still. In our present progress our feet were moving slightly as though in a slow walk and yet our bodies felt so light that I think they were raised slightly from the ground. With every ‘step,’ however, we were propelled a dozen or more and yet most smoothly and effortlessly. It was a form of travel which we particularly liked for it invigorated us in much the same way as a cyclist is invigorated while coasting down a gentle slope on earth.
Presently, the light began to increase, our bodies felt heavier and our feet once more touched the ground. We found ourselves walking into a wood. It was a typical Autumn scene of earth and a very beautiful one. A wide path, slightly hollowed out, cut its way between shallow banks where thickets drooped their tangled stems. All around, great trees spread their branches. As we walked our feet sank into leaves which formed a carpet everywhere. Around the trunks of the trees they had drifted high in a recent wind. Here and there were patches of bracken mellowed to many flaxen, gold and copper hues and there were ferns, too. Some still green, others withered to a dark brown. A little to the right of the path, the ground sloped to a river where the boughs of the trees leaned down to touch the water as it washed over boulders about five feet below.
We paused as we entered this peaceful wood for Janet and I have always loved a wood at Autumn-time. We saw that some of the trees were already almost bare of leaves, that others had a few, coloured ones still clinging to them. Some were still quite well clothed and others-the evergreens-stood in all their splendour with here and there a bunch of crimson berries to brighten the whole picture.
How lovely it is, “Janet breathed-and then we saw the woman coming towards us.
She came slowly along the path with bent head; a graceful woman of middle age and middle height with lines of sadness in her face. Her arms hung loosely, her shoulders drooped. She was a picture of weariness and woe.
We advanced to meet her for Janet’s tender heart was touched at once. Then she lifted up her eyes and saw us.
“Are you, too, all alone? ” she asked abruptly. “They told me I should see my friends and that there were angels here to help me. Angels-” she broke off scornfully. “There is not one to be seen.”
“But-” I began, glancing instinctively toward the Ruby Angel beside us. He quickly shook his head and I realised that the woman could not see him. At the same moment I caught sight of another figure-an angel robed in silver-grey, hovering close to the woman and looking at her with sad, yearning eyes. “Are you lonely?” Janet asked gently.
“Lonely!” the woman echoed. “I have not met a soul for ages-” She broke off again, laughing harshly. “Did you hear that? A soul. We are all souls here, all souls. No bodies, no food, no company – it is hateful.”
“How long have you been in Heaven’s realm?” I asked, sitting down on a log and motioning to her to sit beside me. Janet sat on the other side of her and the two angels withdrew together into the wood.
“Long enough,” she began. “Oh, I don’t know – a year, perhaps, a month. It has seemed like a lifetime. I never wanted to die but the fever got me and then my husband died. That made me feel a bit better when I knew I was going too. At least we could be together – if there was any hereafter, which I doubted.”
“How many doubt that!” Janet cried. “How could they imagine they could die and cease to be?” “Life is life. It cannot be death,” I added.
“Oh, I have heard all that,” Sarah said. (Of course she had pressed her name upon our minds but she was not aware of it.) “It was true, of course. Just a brief struggle, like slipping under the surface of water and then a kind of lightness, with angels standing near and smiling-” “Oh, you have seen the angels! “Janet cried happily.
“I did see them at first,” Sarah grudgingly admitted. Of course I asked them to take me to my husband, but not they! All they talked about was looking at my sins and going through a term of reparation. Sins! Fancy being bothered with sins in Heaven! For it must be Heaven or the angels would not be there. And if I were already in Heaven, what was the use of thinking about my sins on earth?”
“Perhaps you needed to make reparation before you passed into a deeper awareness,” I ventured.
“The angels said something like that,” she replied angrily. “What nonsense – awareness. I am aware of everything. I can see this wretched wood with its bedraggled trees and soggy leaves, all those thorny bushes and that muddy water over there. Oh, I can see everything – except my husband.”
As she spoke, a change began to steal over the wood and we started up in amazement. Where were all the mellow autumn tints? The leaves had faded to a dull, buff shade, the trunks of the trees were a sombre brown. All the lightness and brightness had gone. No longer did the evergreens display their glossy leaves and crimson berries. They were just dull patches, like dirty green rags tied to sticks. All the many hues of the fallen leaves had merged into a uniform shade, the water had lost its sparkle so that the earth and the river-bed was all that could be seen. A dirty wash of water splashing over drab stones, the ground like a filthy khaki cloth flung carelessly down, the trees like mud-coloured poles and the whole scene as though it were viewed through a smoke-laden fog.
We were almost gasping with amazement when we realised. This was the wood through Sarah’s eyes! We sat down again and each took one of her hands.
“Sarah,” Janet began softly, “I think perhaps you refused to see what the angels wished to show you. Before you could see your husband they wanted you to look at your sins as he is looking at his. They wanted you to enter upon your Term of Reparation and then, when you were purified, you and your husband would go on together to a life happier than you had ever known.”
“How do you know that about my husband?” she demanded. “What he is doing, I mean?”
“I can see.”
“Oh, you can see everything,” she exclaimed angrily. “I can see nothing.”
“That is very true, Sarah,” I said. “You have refused to see what the angels wanted to show you and now you can see very little. You are closing your eyes to truth. If you continue in this way (for thought is creative, you know) you will gradually lose your sense of sight until you will be in complete darkness.”
“Oh no!” she cried in terror, clutching our hands. “Not blind, not blind!”
“You are making yourself blind,” Janet explained. “Blind to your sins, blind to the presence of your angel-”
“Do you mean I can stop going blind if I wish? ” she demanded. “Tell me!”
You can regain your sight by desiring to see truth,” I told her. “As I have said, thought is creative. Think humbly of your angel guide, desire to see him and to see that which he will show you, however unpleasant it may be. See in desire and you will see in reality.”
“Oh, I do desire it!” she cried piteously. “I do desire to see everything – especially my angel-” She broke off, gazing around her. “Why, this wood is not ugly after all. The sun has come out. Oh, how it shines on the water! And look at all those pretty colours. Why, what are those colours between the trees?”
She stood up, gazing, and then out of the trees came the two angels. The Ruby Angel waited, but the grey-robed one came towards her with opened arms. His wings rose up protectingly, his face was smiling in gentleness. Sarah just gave a sob and rushed forward. She ran right into those outstretched arms.
The angel folded his arms and his wings around her with a gesture of infinite tenderness. His strong, calm face bent over hers while she leant, sobbing, on his breast. With his own hair he presently dried her tears and then they walked on, the angel enfolding her with his strong arm. We just caught a glimpse of her radiant face as they turned more deeply into the wood.
“So be it,” said our Ruby Angel solemnly. “And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes and there shall be no more pain, neither sorrow nor crying.”
]]>“Let us go now to the Place of Trees,” the Ruby Angel suggested. “It is time you attained to the Degree of Dignity.”
“Oh, what is that?” I asked, while Janet turned her face to his. Our angel smiled.
“I cannot help seeing the picture in you minds! You think of gowns and mortar-boards and solemn gatherings and massive books-”
“You are right,” Janet laughed, “and I must say the picture somewhat daunted me. I never was very desirous of such things-”
“Nor ever would sit still long enough to study,” our angel interrupted in his turn.
“Where is the Place of Trees?” I asked as we began to move away. “I thought we had been there already.”
“No, you saw some trees, but this is not the same thing at all. This is a place where newcomers receive a definite power.”
Janet and I could not repress a shared smile. Newcomers! It seemed that we had been here for untold ages. Our angel, however, only walked on, saying composedly:
“Yes, newcomers. For if you could glimpse the great ones who have climbed beyond you and who have travelled this way before you, you would be blinded by their glory! One of the strangest things we angels notice in men, and which always excites our wonder is the way in which, no sooner is a little knowledge or power gained, they instantly think themselves progressed and preen themselves as old hands.”
These last two words the Ruby Angel said with much emphasis, twinkling at us the while. He knew his use of this homely phrase would amuse us and would take away from the sternness of his previous words. True, we had begun to feel somewhat humbled and subdued by the gentle rebuke and so we welcomed his tactful way with us all the more. We had often noticed this. Angels were always so gentle in their dealings with men, so courteous and patient, too.
Very soon we found ourselves in a great square smoothly cloaked with velvet lawns. All over this square, growing in orderly rows, were many trees. Some of the trees in the far distance were immense, as though they had stood there for centuries. Others were smaller and younger. Some, near to where we were standing, were very small indeed, hardly more than saplings.
Moving among these trees were little angels. These were not the babies, but little angels about the size of an earth-child of seven or eight. They had curly, silken hair falling to their shoulders and a single robe of a shade of shimmering grey. They were tending small gardens around the base of each tree and after watching them awhile we looked questioningly at our angel.
“Every one of these trees represents a man or woman,” our angel explained. “Each has reached a certain stage of consciousness, or awareness, and as the angels tend these gardens, so do they plant prayer-power into the soul of each man to whom the tree ‘belongs.’ This prayer-power is necessary for when a man begins to be aware of his real self he must be helped toward the Degree of Dignity.”
“What is this Degree of Dignity?” I asked.
“When men saw the Lord walking upon earth,” the angel said solemnly, “and met the loving or stern look in His eyes, how little they realised the veneration in which He held them.”
“Veneration?” Janet and I queried together.
“Yes. For He saw each one as the tabernacle of the Most High, He saw the spirit of His Father within each, He felt the pulsing of the Divine Life deep down in every human heart…. And so, in worshipping His Father, He could do nought else but venerate the God in man also. This realisation – of the God in himself and the God in all others – is the Degree of Dignity. No man is quite the same after having once glimpsed this reality. At first the realisation is faint and so the trees are small, but as it grows in power, so do the trees grow because the growth in man is the direct result of the prayer power of the angels. These little ones love to tend the flower-gardens and to pray, for to them, praying is as happy an expression as singing, dancing or playing upon a flute.”
“What a lovely service,” Janet breathed.
She and I seemed to have grown in stature since we had come here. We were conscious of strength, of an up-springing from within. Our hearts were singing and within us were sounding solemn, intimate, almost caressing words: “My son, thou art always with Me and all that I have is thine.”
We wanted to kneel down, to speak to this Father within us, to commune, to whisper to His Heart, at last as sons… but we knew we would have all of time in which to do it.
“Father, Father, Father!” sang our hearts, and the words of the apostle came back to us, Glorify and bear God in your body.” There was a long silence and then I asked: “Is our tree here? ”
“You have one each,” said the angel, but I will not ask you to look for them. They are so small that you would pass them by.”
He moved a few paces away. There two little angels knelt low, tending gardens so small that we too had to stoop to see them! They surrounded trees scarcely more than four inches high. The flowers blossoming in the gardens were the tiniest we had ever seen, but in perfect detail, fragrance and colouring. As we watched, the little angels looked up smilingly.
“Thank you, thank you, for your prayer-power,” Janet whispered. We are so grateful.” The little ones gave us a soft kiss on the cheek and then, hand in hand, skipped away.
So these are our trees,” I marvelled. “And those-” I pointed mutely to the huge trees growing in the far distance. “Those are the trees of the Great Ones.”
]]>How peaceful was the time that followed! Our dear angel said we had had quite a lot of teaching and had used up a deal of energy in all our visits and so we must be refreshed.
“We shall visit the Garden of Serenity and walk awhile in the Green Pasture,” he said.
“Oh, where is it? ” Janet cried eagerly. “It sounds delightful.”
“It is here,” said the Angel.
“Here?” I echoed. “But we are in a wood. Surely this cannot be the garden of Serenity nor yet the Green Pasture.”
“No. Yet, nevertheless, it is here. Remember, Janet and Bernard, that space does not exist in Heaven’s realm. When you appear to travel on wings from place to place, you do not, in reality, move at all. It is merely that another plane unfolds, as though a veil rolled back. On this very spot there are planes upon planes; scene upon scene is revealed to a million souls. On this very spot where we now stand there are great deserts seemingly empty of all life, there are many Halls thronged with souls upon the social plane of progress, there are towering mountains and swift-running rivers and animals noisy at their play. That is why people of earth are so foolish when they mourn the loss of loved ones, thinking them departed an immeasurable distance from their ken. They are here, for Heaven’s realm is the eternal ‘here’ and the unending ‘now'”.
“Yet, they should not make the mistake of thinking that because the loved one is near, he is bound to earth and the consciousness of earth. He may be far, far removed in consciousness, soaring up to realms of splendour. Yet the lonely one has but to cherish a simple faith in his heart and that faith will act as a link by which his love may reach to the one beyond the veil and the departed one’s love may come down to him.”
“What a long speech,” I commented, smiling at the Ruby Angel.
“I should think so!” Janet echoed, but the angel knew how interested we were. “Let us go to the Garden of Serenity,” he said.
Again we felt that strange sensation of ‘winging’. We seemed to be lifted up and the wood appeared to grow small, gradually fading from our sight. And then we were in the Garden…. “It is all green,” Janet breathed.
And so it was. Smooth, green lawns swept away, far beyond our sight. Green trees, so thickly clothed as to almost hide the trunks, stood in long avenues on either side and the sun, pouring down, sent deeper green shadows over the grass. A tiny stream rippled over mossy stones making, with the sun, a touch of silver and gold among the green. As far as the eye could see (and this is a very great distance in Heaven’s realm) there was nothing else. As we began to walk, the angel said softly:
“‘The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures. He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul.'”
He does indeed,” I murmured, drinking deep of the pure, sweet air. ‘He restoreth my soul; He restoreth my soul.’ The words seemed to float in my mind, to echo in my heart, and I knew that the same thing was happening to Janet. Presently I asked:
“If there is no travelling in Heaven’s realm, how is it that we are able to walk?”
“Ah, that is a different kind of travelling,” our angel explained. “Here, you are travelling over one particular plane, which is immeasurably vast so that you could walk for eternity and never come to the end of it, but when it comes to travelling from one plane to another you have but to stand still, for one plane is superimposed on the other.” “I see,” we both said, dimly understanding.
As we had been walking, the trees had ended, the stream had wound away out of our sight and we had come to a vast meadow.
“This is the Green Pasture,” said the angel, answering my enquiring look. “Let us sit down on the grass awhile.”
“We shall crush the daisies,” Janet cried regretfully, but the angel reassured her. “They will spring upright when we move.”
For a long time we sat there, breathing deeply and looking at the vast field of tiny white daisies nodding in the breeze. Then, as we gazed, the minute shadows from the setting sun grew longer and each flower slowly closed its petals into a crimson-tipped cup. “I wonder why the daisies close at eventide? “Janet murmured.
“It is to preserve the life of the Father which comes to them from the light,” the angel said. “How truly they are named ‘the day’s eye’ Sweetly, softly, they close their petals, treasuring in their golden hearts the Life-Power which the day’s light has brought. All through the dark hours of night they live upon this power and then, when the eye of the day opens once more, they too open to receive more light.”
Janet and I picked a daisy and regarded it attentively, with renewed interest. Then the angel’s quiet voice came to us again.
“Thus it is when humans sleep and thus it is when the time comes to die. As sweetly, as softly, when the day’s eye closes for another soul, the Father’s life is gathered to that soul’s heart, and when he opens his eyes to another day, lo, the world is beautiful, the sun shines, the Father’s light pours down upon him and all is well. So when you see the daisy remember that sleep and death are one, that sleep and death are but the closing of the day’s eye.”
]]>After the last lesson of the Angel we all walked on for a very long time. At least it seemed a long time afterwards when we came to look back upon it but it may have been a mere flash. Who can tell? We had so many experiences, we met so many people, we saw so many changing scenes – these are the things which mark time on earth. But in Heaven’s realm time has no value. There is all eternity in which to live – does it matter if one hour or one million hours have passed?
How we loved the companionship of the Ruby Angel! He was so exalted a being to our eyes, yet so humble. So advanced, yet so simple. So full of grace and dignity, yet so merry and friendly. We were aware, too, of our opportunities in having the personal teaching of this angel and resolved, between ourselves, to store up all the wisdom we could.
Sometimes he would go away for a while to make contact with other angels or to meet other people. At these times we would talk over his teaching or ponder it silently. Sometimes we would go to visit friends whom we had met when we first came to Heaven’s realm.
These visits were particularly pleasurable, and often surprising. Bertram, whom we had last seen attempting to impress others with his worldly dignity, we found working as a helper in the Hall of Children. He was robed most simply in plain brown with a cord about his waist and he went about smiling and serene, choosing the lowliest tasks he could find. The children loved him, clustering about his knees and calling him “Bertram Brother.” It seemed to us, as we watched his happy service, that he was fulfilling some deep, inward urge in thus humbling himself. It was certain that he could not have been more content had he lived on the highest plane in Heaven’s realm.
Arthur, whom we last saw in the Hall of Books, we found in the Hall of Music. We did not attempt to speak to him for he was absorbed in music played by an orchestra in one of the great rooms overlooking the gardens. A man who was there said that his self-expression had been satisfied in the Hall of Books and that it now took the form of music. The music being played was his own composition and one did not wonder at his absorption when one heard the beauty stealing forth.
We sought Richard everywhere without success and afterwards our angel told us that he had reached a plane beyond us just now, but that he would come to visit us later on.
Of course we went to the Hall of Animals! There we met all our old friends. Rainbow and I met as though we had only been parted for a moment. How good it was to see the animals (many of them enemies on earth) playing together! For a long time we played with them and especially were we thrilled to meet among the newcomers our own little cat whom we had recently lost. What pleasure it gave us to feel his arching back beneath our hands, to hear him purr, to follow as he ran on ahead with tail erect, to see him look back and chirrup in the old, familiar way! He had no sorrow for the parting why should he? It seemed but a moment since he had seen us last. Oh, blessed timelessness of Heaven’s realm.
Presently we again felt the call of the Ruby Angel in our hearts and we instantly winged our way to his side.
“Greetings!” he said, laying a swift hand on our shoulders in the way we knew so well. There was a certain gravity in his face which we recognized instantly and Janet, who would never be awed by anyone, cried out: “You have another lesson for us, Angel. I know!
“Yes,” our angel smiled. “Let us turn off along this path towards the wood.”
“Do you call this a wood? “Janet asked in a little while as we stood in the crisp, golden leaves beneath the trees. ” It seems to me to be only a baby wood.”
“A ‘woodlet,’ perhaps,” I suggested.
“There are only little trees here at the fringe of the wood,” agreed the angel, “but if we went more deeply into the centre we should see trees so big that they would amaze you. Now look at the trees quite near and tell me what you see.”
“Do you mean, what kind of trees they are?” I asked. “I am not very good at that.”
“No, tell me what is you impression,” our angel explained.
We looked silently. “Many of the trees seem to be very straight and well-formed,” Janet said at last.
“Yes?” our angel smiled encouragingly.
“They seem to be quite a distance away from each other” I put in, “as though the wood has been planned.”
“Ah!” The Ruby Angel seemed pleased, but he said no more, so we looked again.
“A few of the trees are very crooked, leaning up against each other – see, Bernard?” Janet turned to me, indicating one tree in particular which leant against another, and, twisting itself round the other’s trunk, was very much mis-shapen.
That is the lesson,” our angel said.
“The lesson?” We were puzzled, but the angel only laughed.
“No – think for yourselves! These trees have their counterparts on earth-men. Did you not say the wood seemed as though it had been planned, Bernard?”
“Yes, because most of the trees were standing alone, having plenty of space to grow in… oh!” I exclaimed, as the truth crept into my mind. “You mean that the Father planned that men should be like that?”
“Yes, men were intended to stand alone, on earth, in their own place where the Divine Gardener planted them. He gave them plenty, of room to expand, to grow, to stretch outwards and upwards.”
“But men often lean upon other men,” Janet put in eagerly, and then they become weak and mis-shapen.”
“That is so,” said the angel gravely. “If men would but stand alone using the gifts which the Father has given them, drawing His ‘life-sap’ from the soil and His ‘life-moisture’ from the air, they would eventually reach the stature of those great trees of which I have spoken.”
“What about two who are one?” I asked.
“They, too, should stand alone,” our angel insisted. “Each must use his own gifts, his own will, his own strength. Each must know the solitude of power and the power of solitude. But see. There are two young saplings growing straight up side by side. Do you not think they enjoy each other’s company, that each sometimes shields the other from strong winds or from the intense heat of the sun? And because the winds of adversity and the heat of impulse do not always come from the same direction, sometimes one acts as a shield and sometimes the other. So both grow strong.”
We stood gazing into the wood, letting the teaching sink into our hearts until the angel said: “When you see trees remember that each man on earth must stand, and grow, alone.”
]]>After the Ruby Angel had given us his blessing he seemed to fade away out of our sight as he had done so many times before. We sat again on the log, silent and awed, yet with that radiant joy within our hearts which we knew so well in Heaven’s realm. The warm touch between our eyes lingered, seeming to sink deep down by a golden channel to some well of strength within.
In the wood the leaves stirred in the slight breeze, revealing their undersides of silver and fawn and gold. The little bird came back, bringing his family of young ones who hopped over our bare feet and made play with the fallen leaves.
We were deeply content as the moments fled by. Sometimes we talked of our angel’s teachings. Sometimes we watched the movement and colour of the wood. Sometimes we talked of earth, so far away, so unreal to us, yet still dear.
Then we rose together and looked into a narrow path just ahead. We both knew that the Ruby Angel was calling and we longed to find him again.
The trees grew quickly here and met overhead so that it was very dim and cool. Here grew shining ferns and little fragile plants which loved to grow in shadow. Here the bright eyes of rabbits looked out from burrows in the hedge while their young played in the long grass with baby squirrels and birds.
As we went further along the path we began to glimpse many lovely colourings in the distance and we knew that angels were there. However lovely the robes of the people of Heaven’s realm, those of the angels are more beautiful still. They have a luminous, ethereal quality which cannot be described. This wonderful shining reached us between the close-packed trunks of the trees and as we approached the rays of light pierced the dimness of the path and dazzled our eyes.
As we drew near, also, we heard the wondrous music of angels’ speech. Sometimes, the words of angels cannot be heard at all by man. Sometimes when they are talking to newcomers to Heaven’s realm their tones are almost human except that they are always sweet and clear. But when a group of angels are gathered together of many degrees they have a special language which each one can understand but which is as a foreign tongue to the ears of man. From a distance this speech sounds like music. Once, our angel told us that it is like this with birds. Their lesser language is also unknown to man but it sounds like music to him.
A few more steps brought us into a little clearing and there we had perforce to pause and veil our eyes with a drooping bough of vine-leaves because we were dazzled with the light and colour pouring forth from so many angels. Some were sitting beneath the trees on the edge of the clearing, obviously lost in contemplation. Some were walking up and down, speaking together. Then, growing accustomed to the light, we saw the babies.
The baby angels wore the lightest of gauze tunics in pastel shades and their wings were pearly, folded down so that the tips reached barely to their waists. They were running hither and thither, picking flowers. Some of them had such large bunches that their little fingers could hold no more and they were forced to put them on the grass to await collection later. Others were trying to reach up to tall blossoms far above their heads so that smiling angels came to lift them.
As we watched, the Ruby Angel came to us and put a hand softly upon our shoulders in greeting. “Would you, too, pick some flowers?”
There was something thrilling in his voice which caught our attention at once. His eyes looked long into ours until at last Janet faltered: “For -”
“For the visit of the King,” the angel finished for her.
How our hearts leapt with joy!
“Oh, let us pick some quickly!” I exclaimed, starting to enter the clearing. “Shall we be in time?”
“There is plenty of time,” our angel said firmly. “Always remember that in Heaven’s realm there is always time.”
He turned and led the way down another pathway so that, to follow him we had to leave the angels, but were we not to gather flowers for our Beloved?
“Bless the Lord, O my soul,” sang Janet, lifting up her voice for joy. “Bless the Lord, O my soul and all that is within me, bless His holy Name.”
We all joined in as we walked down the path. The angel added many more praises of his own: “Bless our King who reigns for ever; bless Him to eternity” And to each was added the first verse which Janet had begun.
“Bless the Lord of Love and Truth; may He live in all our hearts.”
“Bless the Lord, 0 my soul, and all that is within me bless His holy Name.”
No doubt we would have continued our singing for much longer than this had we not reached our destination. The angel suddenly paused and throwing wide his arms, cried: “Now pick your flowers!”
We both gave an involuntary gasp as we gazed at the scene before us. Field after field of blossoms stretched away to the horizon. Not only were there flowers of all colours, but all seasons too. There were masses of tall flowers bowing to the breeze and thousands of short, sturdy blossoms lifting up their brilliant hues to the sun. There were flowering bushes and trees, gay vines and creepers, tiny plants of fragile stem such as we had seen in the shadowed pathway-everywhere, as far as the eye could see they grew and the air was filled with their perfume.
Here and there people walked about, bending lovingly over the plants. There were young and old, I noticed. Men and women, and all wore flowers in their hair or girdling their waists and wrists.
“Who are these people?” Janet asked. Her voice was lightly muffled, for she is always awed by the beauty of flowers.
“These are the gardeners who tend the Gardens of the King.” our angel explained. It is their chosen Heaven. Now” he added, “pick your flowers.” “Any of them?” I asked. “Will the gardeners mind? The Ruby Angel laughed. It is their joy to see people come for the flowers.”
For a long time, it seemed, we wandered there. Then the angel helped us pick and we soon had as many as we could carry. Janet chose tall flowers; lilies, lupins, golden-rod, daisies and many others. I chose little flowers; pansies, primroses, violets, marigolds – because I thought the baby angels would like them.
When at last we returned to the clearing we found the angels working busily in a wide avenue of trees close by. They had bound great bunches of flowers to the tree trunks so that they looked like the decorated pillars of a cathedral when a festival was near. The babies had lined either side of the avenue with their massed blossoms, leaving a broad, green pavement in the centre. We offered our flowers to one of the workers and watched as the work progressed.
“What a pity they will fade,” Janet said. Our angel looked at her in surprise. “Have you ever seen dead flowers here?” “No,” we said together.
“Flowers do not die,” he explained. “They return to their natural element and become part of the tree-trunks or grass or soil in time. Flowers only fade from sight, you see.”
Gradually, as we watched the completion of the decorations, people had been gathering in a group at one end of the avenue. Janet and I began to feel very thrilled, with that silent awe we had experienced so many times before. Everyone seemed to share it for all at once the angels stood silent too, and all seemed to listen for a familiar sound.
It came at last. The silver notes of trumpets! Our King was on His way. . .
And then a brilliant light flooded the opposite end of the avenue and we fell upon our knees. He came slowly toward us – but so unlike an earthly king! He was robed in creamy-white and there was no covering of any kind upon His head. When He drew near, the baby angels ran to Him and He knelt to gather them into His arms. They touched His cheek with their tiny fingers and He smiled upon them. Then He greeted the tall angels, walking among them as brother to brother until He reached the waiting group among which we stood.
How gracious He was! How familiarly we dared to touch His hand, to press against His shoulder, to smile into His eyes. We were all “Johns” whom He loved in that wondrous hour. Oh, if men of earth could but see His lowliness, His nearness to the heart of man, how willingly they would follow Him! For He is not an august and terrible Personage – He is but the Manger-Babe grown to Manhood…
When at last He had passed from our midst the Ruby Angel took us to walk down the avenue where He had set His feet. Many of the baby angels were picking up a flower and putting it in the girdles of their tunics. They offered one each to us and we knelt to receive them. They tucked ours into our golden sashes.
“What beauty! “Janet breathed, gazing at the brilliant array.
“Yet every one of those blossoms has a flaw,” our angel said.
“A flaw!” I gazed at him in astonishment. “A flaw in Heaven’s realm?”
“I refer to the judgement of earth,” he said. “To earth-eyes they would be flaws.”
“But how is that? “Janet asked in a wondering tone.
“Look.” The angel took a blossom and held it before us. “Do you see that tiny cut in the petal’s edge? And this one-do you see that ragged leaf? Do you notice that cleft in the stalk where another branch should be?”
“But they are not flaws,” I protested.
“What then?”
“An accident of growth. Perhaps these are not fully developed and would grow to perfection if left long enough.”
“Exactly.” The Ruby Angel was smiling. “Flowers and people are very much alike. Yet when a person on earth is imperfectly grown (as all are) others say, ‘See those flaws, see those faults, see those sins! ‘But we angels see the people of earth as flowers. We see their beauty, we know they were created by the Father. We do not look for their flaws, but only see, at times, an undeveloped growth.”
“Is that how you see us?” Janet’s eyes were shining.
“Yes. We know that all men will be given time to come to their full development. And that is how you should see each other while you live on earth. Oh children!” and his voice rang out entreatingly,” Cease to see each other as full of flaws, full of weaknesses, errors, faults and sins. See one another as undeveloped. Know that time and love will bring a cure and Time and Love are the very gifts of God. When you see flowers remember that thus we angels see the men of earth. So let the beauty of flowers remind you of this lesson and give you tolerance.”
]]>The wood was green and cool and silent. Janet and I sat on a fallen log, enjoying the softness of the vine twining so thickly over its surface.
How long had we rested there? It was difficult to say. For a long time we had not spoken. Before that we had been sleeping on a couch of crisp, golden leaves. Before that? Our memories failed. A mist seemed to hang before our minds as we sought to measure the time.
As usual, our minds revolved together, without the spoken word, sinking more deeply into those hidden places so little understood by men. As we thought, sitting quietly with hands linked, a bird came to hop over the hem of Janet’s robe. Its warm brown contrasted exquisitely with the translucent green of the material and my eyes followed it absently. From Janet’s robe it hopped to mine and then it fluttered to my knee and stood gazing at its reflection in the silver seal on my breast.
“I think we have been here for half of eternity,” Janet said dreamily, stretching out a hand to touch the feathers of the bird. “I wonder why our angel is so long?”
“Our angel?” I queried in surprise, and then, receiving her thought, “Why, of course! He went to meet some travellers on the fringe of the wood and to guide them on their way. I wonder if he has really been absent long?”
“Many years have rolled away on the earth-plane,” Janet replied, “and even in this realm time has passed. Do you remember that when we came here first we looked up at the trees from our couch of leaves and watched this bird learning to fly?”
“And now he is fully grown, with a nest in the branches,” I marvelled. “Imagine the activity that has taken place on earth, yet this long time has passed away in a flash to us.”
“How comforting it would be if people knew this when they lose their dear ones on earth.” Janet had taken the bird into her lap now and was fondling it softly. “If people knew that years of separation seemed but a moment here, so that memory and love-ties are always fresh.”
We fell silent again and my eyes wandered over the scene. Here and there the sun filtered through the leaves, dappling the ground, and paths wound among the tall trunks. The music of birdsong came and went entrancingly.
Presently the sound of voices came to us. We looked up expectantly and then sprang to our feet to greet our Ruby Angel. He came swiftly into the little clearing, his robe splashing the brown trees and fallen leaves with brilliant colour. Behind him came a tall young man robed in golden brown, whose shoulders were crossed with purple bands and sealed on the breast with bronze. His skin was smooth and creamy, his hair long and curling under at the nape of the neck, his eyes were deeply blue, the gaze clear and straight. “This is Derek,” said our angel.
He came and took our hands, bowing slightly and smiling. His touch was firm and cool. “I am very glad to be here,” he told us when we welcomed him.
“It has seemed a long journey but now the Ruby Angel has guided me and my path is clear.” “Which way do you go now? “Janet asked.
“Between those two great trees,” said Derek, “and down the hill into the valley. Th
ere,” and his eyes were bright with joy, “I have a friend waiting.” “The golden sash?” I queried softly.
“Yes.” He stooped and touched the fringe of mine to his lips and did the same to Janet’s. Then, with a long, smiling look towards the angel, he was gone.
“Angel,” Janet said, as we all sat down on the log again, “I thought there were a number of people you had to guide?”
“Nearly a hundred,” the Ruby Angel replied soberly.
“But where are they?
“I met them all and they all agreed to come,” he explained. “First of all they started off gladly for the way led over a meadow where the grass was springy to the feet and flowers grew everywhere. Then a few of the party wanted to pause and gather the flowers.”
“You could not wait?” I asked as the angel paused.
“No, there was a long way to go. But some of them stayed, and we left them in the meadow. Then our path led up a hillside and the stones were sharp and loose. They stumbled as they went and some of the people grew tired. They asked to rest but again I had to insist on going on. So more of them fell back and by the time we reached the hill-top only half the number were with me.”
“Then our path led by a winding way through long grasses and one of them suggested we should scramble straight down for the sake of speed. When I went on, he took this ‘short cut’ as he thought it, and many followed him. Others fell back at different points all the way until only Derek was left. He knew.”
“What did Derek know? “Janet asked sadly.
“He knew that the way I led him was the only sure path,” the angel explained.
“What will happen to the others?” I asked.
“They will lose their way and wander for a long time until they find their way back to the starting-point again. There they will wait until another angel is sent to lead them.”
“Then they will all follow,” Janet finished happily.
“No-even then some of them will turn aside from the path,” our angel said. “You see, it depends on the first intention.”
“The first intention?” I echoed when he paused. “What is that?”
“It governs all the ways of life, even to eternity,” the Ruby Angel said solemnly. “The first intention is the most important of all. A man may set forth upon a wise path in life and say to himself, ‘I hope to tread this path until the end.’ Another man may start and say, ‘I would like to be able to tread this path always.’ Still another may falter almost at the beginning, saying, ‘I wish I could follow, but I am so weak.’ Only the man who thinks it all out beforehand and states firmly to himself, ‘ I intend to walk this path’ reaches his destination. You see, the first intention is all important.”
I thought of Derek with his firm mouth and steady eyes. “Derek had the first intention.” ”Yes.”
“What of the others?” Janet asked. “Will they acquire the right intention eventually?”
“Oh yes,” and our angel smiled. “One day they will all reach this clearing in the wood and will all rejoice in the peace of it. But before this they have many wanderings, many tears, many strivings.”
“How sad,” Janet and I said together as our eyes rested on the beauty of the scene before us.
“Yet almost all sadness is that of turning from the way,” said our angel. “There is so much joy, even on earth, for those who walk in the way intended for them. There is always an angel waiting, unseen by earth-eyes, to guide their steps, but they have not the first intention you see. Children,” he turned to us and smiled, “always have the first intention. Say to yourselves, ‘I intend to walk this way’ and your way shall be a way of joy. Joy is the heritage of man; it is his natural way. It is only when man lacks the first intention that he walks the way of sorrow.”
Janet stretched out and took my hand, pressing it firmly. “We will remember, dear Angel.”
Then the Ruby Angel stood up and raised his hands, palms towards us. We stood, too, and from his fingers there came rays of golden light, pouring upon us. The points of the rays touched our foreheads between the eyes and we felt the warmth of them. Almost in a dream the angel’s deep voice came to us. May your wills be strengthened!” he said solemnly.
]]>“How still it is,” Janet murmured. “And how shining bright,” I added.
“So still, so bright, so clear,” said our angel, “that it might be the beginning of time itself.” We sat for a while in deep content, and then the angel said: “I am going to tell you a story.” Janet and I exchanged a glad look, and she asked: “Does it begin with ‘Once upon a time’?”
“It begins, ‘Once, when time began,'” said our dear teacher, looking at us to see if we were comfortable (for he knew that if the body rested, the mind worked more actively and surely). “Once, when time began there was a great king who had one son, a fine, handsome prince who was the joy of his father’s heart. All the people expected this prince to become their ruler when he attained his majority (for it was the custom of that land) and so they watched his growth with the warmest interest.
“All the time the young prince was growing he had every advantage in his father’s palace. Heir to the throne and greatly beloved, he was given every honour and privilege. Judge, then, of the people’s astonishment when they heard that the prince had been sent away! None saw him leave. No-one knew the circumstances of his going. All was shrouded in mystery and darkness.”
“At first the people were angry, but the king sent out a proclamation into the land, asking all his subjects to trust him, and saying that if they would have faith in him now, later they would rejoice with him. So the people were content, and returned to their daily tasks.”
“But what of the prince?” I asked, when the angel paused.
“The prince went out alone, disguised as a peasant. He went out in the lonely midnight, but before that he had an interview with his father. It must be confessed that he was amazed, and somewhat in awe of the adventure when his father first proposed it. He, too, loved his father deeply, and besides, he had a beautiful and happy home at the palace at his parent’s side. However, his father said that he must go. He desired greatly that his son should ascend the throne on the attainment of his majority, but first there was something he had to do.”
“‘I give to you this shining lamp,’ said the king. ‘Travel throughout the length and the breadth of the land with it, and if, when you reach your majority, you return with it still untarnished, you shall be crowned king.’
“‘Oh, that is easy! ‘ said the young prince, smiling. ‘I will hide it beneath my cloak and then it will always be bright.’
“Father and son embraced fondly, and then the prince set off bravely, swinging through the outer gates of the palace and onto the dark, stony road beyond.”
“At first, all went well. From time to time the young man drew the lamp forth to look at it, and its brilliance, shining like a sun in the darkness, delighted him. But with the coming of dawn, he grew tired and his eyes were heavy. ‘This bank will make me a downy couch,’ he mused, pausing by a stream, and he rolled up, drawing his cloak more closely about him, and fell asleep.”
“When he awoke, the sun had risen. He lay basking in its warmth for a while, watching the rays dancing on the surface of the stream. Then suddenly, he was wide awake! For just beneath the water he glimpsed his lamp, which had evidently rolled down the bank while he slept. Leaping up, he hastened to retrieve it. He found it had sunk into the mud, and part of its surface was clouded and stained. Swiftly he plunged it into the water, washing it thoroughly, but his hardest rubbing failed to restore its shining. Here and there it glowed still, but the stains spread across the shining, turning the beautiful object into an ugly one.”
“Sadly, the young prince climbed the bank and sat down in his former place. ‘So soon, so soon!’ he mourned. ‘And I thought it would be an easy matter to bring my lamp untarnished to my father. Oh, why was I so careless? A little thought would have made me guard the lamp more securely. What if it had been stolen from me! Even this would have been possible.’ For a long time he sat, holding the stained lamp between his hands, and then a great cry burst from him.”
“‘My father, my father, do not forsake me! I want to return. I most heartily regret my carelessness! ‘and tears brimmed over, raining down on the clouded lamp.”
“When his contrition had been wept over until his eyes were dry again, he could scarcely believe what he saw. The lamp was clean! Once more it shone like the sun on that water, and his heart was filled with gratitude.”
“Did he reach his father with the untarnished lamp in the end?” Janet asked, when the angel had been silent for a while.
“He had many adventures first. Once he was met by a beautiful young girl who induced him to tarry on the way. She lured him with smiles and sweet music, and gradually his protests died. That day he did not journey at all and his father, watching and praying in the palace, knew, and was deeply grieved. While she held his eyes, this beautiful girl reached out for the shining lamp, but ere her fingers closed upon it, the prince became aware of his danger. Grasping his precious burden, he flung away from her, plunging up a rocky hillside (for she blocked his rightful way). When he had almost reached the top, exhausted by his unnecessary climb, his numbed fingers let fall his treasure and the lamp fell into some cactus bushes. Painfully he retrieved it, only to find it deeply scratched.”
“Another time, some young men accosted him and invited him to row with them in their boat. He was very tired, and when he told them his destination they said theirs was an easier and quicker way.”
“‘Rest,’ they invited. ‘There is no need for you to work all the time, nor carry your lamp all the way. Give it into our hands and we will return it when you reach the further bank.'”
“‘Very well,’ said the prince. The young men helped him into the boat, making him comfortable on soft cushions. ‘See, I will hold your lamp while you sleep, and when you awake will return it to you,’ said one.”
“But when the prince awoke the boat was moored and the young men were hurrying away over the marshes, carrying his lamp.”
“Springing up, he gave chase, crying to them to stop, but they only ran the faster. Plunging into the mud, gasping for breath, and with terror in his heart, he continued his chase, and at last overtook them. Even then, his troubles were not over, for he had to wrestle with them for the lamp, and in the process became bruised and cut so that when he finally regained his treasure, both he and the lamp were stained.”
“Did his tears of contrition cleanse the lamp always?” I asked soberly.
“When they really were tears of contrition,” said the Ruby Angel. “Sometimes they were tears of weariness, sometimes of rebellion, sometimes of hurt pride, sometimes of anger. Then, no matter how they flowed over the lamp, all its scratches and stains remained. For a long time he lost heart, and sat about, brooding, while his father, watching and praying unceasingly, yearned over his son. He longed to send out servants from the palace, to seek him, remind him of his mission and help him, but he could not. For then, would the prince be worthy to ascend the throne as ruler?”
“After this time of despair, the young prince began to see everything much more clearly.”
“It is useless for me to remain here,’ he reasoned with himself, ‘for then I shall never reach my father again, nor see the palace that is my home. It is useless to weep tears of anger or hurt pride, or rebellion or weariness, for these will not cleanse my lamp. But how can I weep tears of contrition if I do not feel contrite?'”
“He pondered for a while and then an inspiration came. He decided to think of other princes sent forth on a similar mission. In his mind’s eye he saw them overcoming all temptations and returning at last with an untarnished lamp. In imagination he saw the delight of the father, the jubilant welcome, the tumultuous joy of the people over whom he was to rule. He visualised the fond embrace of the father’s arms and the loving greetings of the mother-and suddenly the truly contrite tears were flowing down, cleansing the lamp from every smallest stain.”
“So the prince continued his way, and now his journey was one of gladness, for, although his lamp sometimes became stained through lack of watchfulness, he was so grieved that the tears of contrition flowed instantly, making his treasure bright again.”
“And at last his journey ended. He was a man, and his lamp was untarnished. He stood at the palace gates. How his heart beat with joy as the servants ran to open them, how swiftly he strode within and how warm was the welcome he received! Kneeling humbly, he delivered the untarnished lamp into his father’s hands, and the countenance of his father-king shone with pride and joy.”
“‘My son, you have returned to me!’ he whispered, and so the father and the son were re-united.”
There was a long silence when the story ended, and then Janet murmured: “I think I understand. But you tell us, dear Angel.”
“My children,” our teacher said solemnly, “when you see the sun, always remember the shining lamp – for this is the symbol of the soul.”
]]>Janet and I sat beside the Ruby Angel, looking out toward the snowy hills. There was a tang in the air. The wind whistled among the bare branches of the trees at our feet, and then, rushing up the hillside, swirled icily about us. The grass on which we were sitting was crisp to the touch. Here and there, green patches broke through the crust of snow. I took up a handful of the sparkling crystals, pressing them between my fingers and then letting them drop to the ground.
“Why is it,” Janet asked suddenly, “that although there is this wintry scene all around us, we are not cold?”
“That is queer!” I broke in surprisedly. “Why, I am absolutely glowing – and we have on the same robes, too.”
Our angel-teacher smiled, making no reply, and in a sudden inspiration, I cried:
“Why, that is the question you wanted us to ask!” He turned to us, then, with the absorbed, glad expression of countenance I recognised as his prelude to a lesson in Truth.
“Yes, this is the illustration I have chosen from Mother Nature’s book.”
Janet moved nearer to me, leaning her shoulder against mine so that she could watch our teacher’s face.
“You do not feel the cold,” he continued, “because you are on a higher plane. If some travellers passed this way they would be unable to see us although the scenery would be perfectly clear. You yourselves can touch the snowy grass, yet you are raised to a slightly higher vibration so that, while feeling the chill of its touch, you are not chilled.”
Once more Janet and I ran the snowy crystals through our fingers. We did not speak, for we knew our teacher had more to say, and presently he went on:
“This is a symbol of the life of freedom that is possible for a man on earth. While he lives among the crowd, unthinking and careless, he is attuned to all that is lowest in the physical realm. The sensations of earth-life sweep him here and there, first delighting him, then angering him; again, soothing him or paining him. His feelings of the moment, his circumstances and the moods of those around him are all-important to him. His happiness is wholly rooted in these things. But the man who withdraws from the crowd, who reasons for himself and looks for wisdom in the simplest examples of life, begins to learn mastery over himself. He learns to say ‘No’ to the demands of his lower nature, to school himself by reason instead of being led by feeling. Gradually, he rises above his lower nature so that his circumstances, the moods of others and the sensations of life no longer have their sway over them. He begins to free himself!
“Do you mean that he no longer feels these things?” Janet asked. Our angel turned swiftly toward us, his face kindling.
“No. That is a mistake so many, many make. They see a man, calm and controlled, refusing to be swayed by every sensation of life, and they think he has become frozen, wooden, unfeeling They know no other state than that of being led by every emotion and swept by every sensation. They think the mastery of the lower state means the killing of all the powers of feeling. Foolish ones! Did they but know it, such a man feels more keenly, both in joy and in sorrow.”
“I think I knew this,” Janet said, and I added: “But we like to hear you make it quite clear.”
“Yes,” he said, smiling, “and it is such an important lesson that it can bear repetition…. What has happened, is this. The man, by schooling his desires, is no longer living wholly in the lower world. Instead of being led by the emotions, he is guiding himself by reason. Even his reason has made its submission to the dictates of the soul, and this in turn prostrates itself before the shining spirit that is in him. ‘Know you not that you are the temple of the living God, and that the Spirit of God dwelleth within you?
“How does he begin to acquire this blessed freedom?” I asked, pressing my foot absently into the snow.
“Look,” said the Ruby Angel, “you have answered yourself. See how you have pressed out the snow under your foot so that it bears the imprint you have made upon it. Man does this with his emotions. He puts them under his feet, pressing out those he does not desire and shaping those that he sees to be pure and good. You see, his whole view-point has changed. He no longer thinks that ‘I like this’ is his creed and his rule of life. He comes to measure all things by the will of his spirit. When he says’ I like this,’ it now means, ‘the spirit within me likes this.’ He has come to be identified with it, to live in that higher consciousness.” “Yet he still feels the lower impulses,” Janet mused.
“He still feels them,” our teacher agreed. “Think for a moment of a baby who sees for the first time the golden, dancing flame of a candle. The child is fascinated by it and fervently desires to touch the attractive object. He straightaway stretches out his hand – and then draws back with a cry of pain. Now, what happens? Gradually, the child learns to curb this desire, to put it beneath his feet. He still thinks the flame is pretty, but his desire to touch it no longer moves him, for he associates it with pain. Instead of being led by his desire, he guides himself by his reason. This is true of every lesson of life.”
“How very clear that is!” I exclaimed gratefully.
“Yet how blind the worldlings are,” sighed the angel. “Instead of letting a few such lessons teach them the way to freedom, they go waveringly on, drawing from life countless pains and persisting in learning every separate lesson by the bitterness of experience. They argue that if they want to do a thing it is sufficient reason for doing it, and so they live blindly, the slave of every desire, reaping in bitter pain and disillusion what they sow with so much carelessness. The man on the road to freedom, however, is not insensible to the allurements of the world. He knows the pleasures of the senses, but he will no more submit to their mastery of him than the child will again put his hand into the candle’s flame. Around him the world beckons and calls! Dispassionately he looks on, serene and steadfast in his mind, of fixed resolve in his heart. Why should he turn and plunge once more into the mire, to languish in exile, eating the food of swine, when he has found the bliss of his Father’s home?”
Our teacher smiled tenderly upon us. “When you see snow, my children, remember the bliss of the man on freedom’s road.”
]]>“Look at that swiftly-flowing stream,” our angel said. He leant against the trunk of a tree, his ruby gown glowing against the shadowed bark.
But how is this?” I demanded surprisedly. “Where is the high field and the mountain-range of a moment ago?”
Janet, too, was gazing round in astonishment and our angel smiled.
“A moment ago!” he scoffed good-humouredly. “A great span has rolled by upon earth since last you sat with me. As for time here – it has no beginning and no end. It is a circle.”
“And we stand within it,” said Janet, remembering a past lesson. The angel nodded approvingly.
“Yes, we stand at the hub of the eternal wheel. Who knows how near or how far two separate episodes lie, the one from the other? Your talks with me in the high field is one episode on the circumference of the wheel. This talk is another. Standing at the hub we are an equal distance from each. We have but to reach out our hands to them, if we will.”
“Is that how past, present and future are said to be all one?” I asked.
“Yes! Now you will see that we will talk together amid many scenes, and from each I will teach you of life. Look, then, at that swiftly-flowing stream.”
Janet and I gazed at the view before us contentedly. All around us the ground was clothed with grass, freshly green and dewy. Here and there a tree rose up, giving cool shade from the dazzling sunlight. Before us, a stream rushed and gurgled over glossy stones and in the distance was a mountain, remote in its shroud of mist.
It is a lovely prospect, “Janet mused aloud. Her robe (and mine too) was paler than the grass, but it shone with the same dewy brightness. It had not the hard brilliance of silk, but clung in glowing, mysterious folds, revealing here and there, an intricate pattern at the borders. Across her shoulders, and across mine, were two bands of silver and these were secured on the breast with a large seal of the same material. Round our waists we wore matching golden sashes which is the sign that we are two who walk as one through all eternity.
“See how swiftly flows the stream,” the Ruby Angel continued. “Yet the scene does not change! For all its movement, its rushing onward, its plunging over the stones, it looks as unchanging as yonder mountain, does it not?”
“There is a lesson here!” Janet cried, laughing. “Out with it, Angel!”
Our teacher, who was so wise and so exalted a being, did not take exception to this familiarity. He merely smiled at us.
“Yes, there is a lesson to be learned. I want to teach you through the pictures in Mother Nature’s book, so that, in your earthlife you may be reminded of the wisdom of angels with every changing scene.”
“How wise that is!” I was musing delightedly about the ‘armour’ the angel was to give us, and quite looking forward to using it on earth.
“Men are so eager for activity while they live in the world,” continued our teacher. “They rush here and there, doing this task or that, seeking first one distraction and then another, engaging in endless talk – oh, how they talk!” He broke off to share a smile with us.” If the words of men were recorded, and could be reproduced at the end of even one day, what triviality would be revealed! So men live, constantly engaging their senses, never pausing a moment to ask why they are living, or for what cause these same senses are given them. Apart from the necessary tasks, their time is wholly taken up with action. And the result? They are as unchanged as the scene before us; as unchanged as this stream despite all its movement-as unchanged as this mountain despite all its stillness.”
“So you want to turn us from ‘streams’ into ‘mountains,'” I chuckled.
“Something like that! I want you to realise how useless much of the activity of earth-life is. As I said just now, some of it is necessary, but the majority of life is wasted in action that has a dual purpose – to distract the mind and to attract the admiration of others.”
“It does sound empty,” Janet admitted.
“It is!” said our angel, adding emphatically, “Oh, my children, learn to be still. Learn to value time and earth so that activity can result in inner growth. Do not seek always for outward distractions. Look within and judge your soul-growth; see if you have gained something eternal from your day’s activity. Every little action of earth, if performed consciously for this purpose, can result in growth within. Look again at the scene before you. You can see no change, but you know there is change. The trees and grass grow, the stones of the stream are worn away by the action of the water, the clouds drift over the face of the sky or cover and uncover the mountain-peak. Seasons come and go, bringing their own changes. Learn from this Let all the little actions that are necessary each day of earth-life be used consciously to attain to inward growth. In time, that inward change will reveal itself, as when the seasons change. Remember Do not engage in earth-actions blindly. Use them for soul-growth.” The angel fell silent, and I said:
“That reminds me of some wise words I read once. ‘Abstain from all action, except to acquire merit.’ Our teacher turned quickly.
“Yes. It is wisdom. At first sight, this teaching appears to encourage laziness, but not so! It simply means that it is better to abstain from an action altogether rather than that an action should be performed unthinkingly, blindly, or merely to distract the mind. Now, look again at the flowing stream and the still mountain. Though outwardly, you must act like the flowing stream while in the world, inwardly you must remain still and aware, like the mountain!”
]]>