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Updated: June 12, 2025
My place upon this dividing barrier was as a man’s puzzling station in eternity, between the birthless past and the future that has no end. Behind me I left an old, decrepit world; religions dead and dying; calm tyrannies expiring in silence; women hushed and swathed, and turned into waxen dolls; love flown, and in its stead mere royal and “paradise” pleasures.
All systems; all creeds; all methods that are formulated and upheld by altruism are righteous, and that the Real is the spiritual the external is a dream from which the world is awakening to the consciousness of the spiritual man the atman the Self that is ageless; birthless; deathless divine. On all sides are evidences that the race is entering upon this new consciousness.
And there came to me this thought: What is this Universe that never had beginning and will never have an end but a myriad striving to perfect pictures never the same, so blending and fading one into another, that all form one great perfected picture? And what are we ripples on the tides of a birthless, deathless, equipoised Creative-Purpose but little works of Art?
The same thing applies to the spirit of man. Though death destroy his body, it has no power over his spirit—this is eternal, everlasting, both birthless and deathless. As to the soul of man after death, it remains in the degree of purity to which it has evolved during life in the physical body, and after it is freed from the body it remains plunged in the ocean of God’s Mercy.
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