The long face of sanctity, self-conscious and taut, is losing place on the new spiritual path. Today's true pilgrim seems to be finding his progress without the benefit of black hat, black coat and black shoes balancing their gloom on the razor's edge. For Love is being discovered — and Love's ebullient youngster, Joy.
No longer need the dedicated one pocket his spirit and creep around in solemn mystery, clothed in the drab hues of frayed centuries; nor frown his way through life under a heavy burden of duty, locked in the embrace of fear. The times are against it; and God has forever been against it.
With half a look around this orderly — if troubled — planet, it is plain to see that its Informer breathed joy into every nook and atom — and took considerable delight, Himself, in doing it. The obedient sub-human kingdoms spill over with joy, just as the cup runneth over for all earnest men who have made their irrevocable commitment to assist in the work of evolution. Not for nothing does the far star in the winter sky spin his gladness into your heart as you crunch along in the snow; nor springtime, long patient, finally burst her seams and adorn hill and valley with her colors. It is the divine way of showing love to the myriad children who are looking for it. For love, whose chief attribute is that it cannot be contained, ever radiates. It is love at the center and joy all along the circumference.
It was a Master who once said to the brother he sought to train, "Endow thyself with joy"; for He knew it was all too easy to become tense on the path of initiation, to favor the intellect and conscience, and neglect the heart's throbbing need to escape to another with its essence. He might have pointed anywhere to Nature in operation: to our friend, the brook, which ripples out its song all the way to the sea; to the slender birch rejoicing in its resiliency in the wind; to the first days of the light green leaf finding the sun, or to the expectant puppy on the schoolhouse steps, tail thumping. Beauty and joy exist wherever the all-pervading spirit is free.
What a blessing it is that mankind, rounding the low corner, is moving daily toward this expression of love, that the downflow of buddhic content is automatic with growth — a gift that goes with height. Perhaps we are lamps with green shades, very close to the table: raised, we shall spread the light in ever-widening areas.
Higher we climb in good time — as we care enough to will it. But, meanwhile, can we not sing a bit to get used to it?
It is more than likely that — this moment — the sprayed energies of joy are seeking channel into our lives and lodges, and only await the removal of debris to manifest. If we have dust and rust in either place, dead intentions, dead furniture and darkness, it is time to clear the way for the new and rejoicing. If the windows stick when we raise them, and the dust filters through our hair when we let the curtains up with a bang to the top, let us not be dismayed. The old budges slowly — although it shrinks pretty steadily before sunlight and fresh air.
It is a matter of whose side we are on. The colors and music of divinity, of gladness, belong to us and not to the Forces of Evil whose initials spell FOE. It is a fact that our one world is wounded and bleeding in these days, that traces of subjective enemy action are visible on every front. But there is no evidence that man is retreating. From his stance in sensuality and ignorance, and their results, he battles with what he has got, and tries and tries. What the gentlemen of confusion need is help — a shipment of light and joy to smoke and smile out the insidious foe. These are available to us, and available increasingly for distribution.
It may be a Dark Age that we chose to get ourselves born into, but we did it because it provides such a magnificent background for the light. These are the times of opportunity, and our job's joy.
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