Every spring I watch with anticipation the rose bushes and trees in my garden bud, leaf out, and then miraculously burst into breathtaking beauty. It never fails, and delights me. It is as if these bushes and trees follow invisible patterns, and that makes me wonder if the thoughts that flower into the poems, stories, and music that inspire us, also come forth from invisible realms and follow definite patterns?
Could it be that they, and great religious and scientific thoughts, have previously existed, and come into our consciousness like protean beings in response to a need? If they do, cannot any one of us tap into this unseen storehouse of knowledge — if our credit is good — and bring forth a thought that will, like a deciduous tree, bring forth its particular abundance?
Thoughts, we have been told, are living things. They pass from mind to mind instantaneously, unhampered by the limitations of time and space. Some arrive like a gigantic swarm, fire thousands into action, and then disappear. I have had thoughts so persistent they demanded examination of their potential. Others approach hesitantly awaiting a welcome. If encouraged they reveal truths I'd formerly ignored.
The Greeks had a saying: "Never turn away a guest who knocks at your door. He may be a god in disguise." Indeed, a thought that "knocks at our door" may be bringing a message from on high, or a friend from the past returning to comfort, inspire, and lead us to wonders like those we behold in the springtime.
(From Sunrise magazine, February/March 2005; copyright © 2005 Theosophical University Press)
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