W ITH this issue the Book Causerie appears under another signature; for I am preparing to turn my face Eastward once more and explore the less frequented haunts of the Himalayas and China in quest of the faqueers, yogis, magicians, and sages whom white men seldom contact. I hope also to spend a period of training in advanced meditation with the Maharshi, whose mysterious personality is portrayed to some extent in my book.
In the pages of a magazine like this it is possible to express oneself more freely upon occult subjects than could be done in a work that was written largely for the general reader. My book attempted to make clear to the man in the street subtle and recondite matters which are usually difficult enough to make clear even to specialized students. Nevertheless, there is something for the latter in its pages also, some new information which has been drawn out of the taciturn lips of those reclusive men, the yogis. Such students will probably realize that I have been compelled to withhold from print certain items which would be out of place except in a specialized thesis.
The roots of the story behind my book go back to boyhood, when I found myself taking a keen interest in the subject of Spiritualism. From the very first I quickly developed mediumistic powers, particularly clairvoyance and clairaudience, and thus obtained the best kind of proof of the existence of a psychic world, i.e. by first-hand personal experience, without resort to paid mediums. After I had completely established the truth of survival for myself, I turned to the study of Theosophy and joined the Theosophical Society.
I am grateful for what I learned during this second phase; but after two years’ membership I resigned from the Society. I felt that the adepts who had sponsored its foundation had now withdrawn and left the Society to its own devices. But theosophical study provided my first introduction to Oriental thought, and set me off upon a line of investigation which has become more fascinating still with the passage of time.
I moved among some of the occult groups and compared their teachings for awhile. From time to time I came into contact with advanced students of Indian, Burmese, and Chinese nationality, and they helped me to a clearer understanding of their own doctrines.
I was fortunate enough to become a close friend of the Bhikkhu Ananda Metteya, who was undoubtedly the first great authority on Buddhism to step out of the cloistered retreat of an Eastern monastery and come to Western shores. He taught me something of the inner side of his faith; he initiated me into Buddhist methods of meditation; and he provided an unforgettable lesson in ethics by the beauty of his own personality. He lived the doctrine of love for all beings to its fullest extent; none was exempt from the sweep of his compassion. Let me relate one anecdote.
When he was living in the interior of Ceylon, he went out for a walk one day. In the middle of his path he came across a krait (this is a venomous and dangerous little snake), but the Bhikkhu made no attempt to kill it with the sun umbrella he was carrying; he greeted it instead with the words, “Good day, brother krait!” and then presently strolled away. I know that Ananda possessed extraordinary yogic powers. He could influence animals to an amazing degree. He could take poisons without injury, and on one occasion he took enough hemlock to kill several men, yet suffered no inconvenience. He had developed a breath control which enabled him at times to alter the specific gravity of his body, so that while sitting in Yoga posture he could rise a foot or two into the air and then float gently down to the floor again a little distance from the spot where he first sat. Our friendship endured until his death, and the latter was in fit consonance with the whole tenor of his life, because he sacrificed his body in an effort to extricate me from a dangerous position-a secret I am now making public for the first time. He too, stirred up anew my interest in the East.
The years passed. For various reasons I dropped my mystic studies and concentrated upon professional work in journalism and editing. I made an intense effort to try to understand and fit in with the busy, active material world around me; this was probably a counterpoise to my earlier and strenuous efforts to abstract myself from it! Yet through all those years of ambitious striving I still felt, however dimly, a secondary desire to go out one day to the Orient and to find those yogis, faqueers, and wonder-workers about whom I had heard so much.
When, however, my ambitions were on the point of being realized, a strong inner voice suddenly interposed and persistently urged me not to take the culminating step had I done so, the next few years would have been contracted away to still more strenuous professional activity. Naturally there was a struggle, but in response to this strange spiritual monitor I let slide the most attractive opportunity of my professional career, withdrew from all activities for a time, and took up the old studies once more.
