The Master of Existence, the One Divine and His different powers and aspects — the gods — dwell within the human body, thus declares the seer in a bold affirmative revelation. Yet, for the actualities of life, we still see in the average man the crudeness of a Titan. His thoughts are still bound to petty instincts for self-preservation. His feelings still move inside a narrow fence centred around the ego. His motives are unclean. His body responds much more readily to the lower impulsions of rage and fear, wrath and lust, greed and desire than to the pure touch of delight. Peace turns into inertia and the brain is seldom visited by the lightnings of an intuitive mind.
So where are the gods, some ask? Is the story of life only about a ’struggle for survival’? Is the first and the opening scene of the great drama of earth also its last and closing scene where forms change but not the essential consciousness? Are we no improvement on the reptile and the ape, except being better at survival due to our mental intelligence? Is the seer-vision merely a dream, a wishful thinking to momentarily escape from a hard and painful reality called the world? Or is this world a passing dream in which perchance we wander, only to wake up and rejoice again, in the land of the gods, free from care and grief?
Neither this world nor the Beyond, neither this mortal body nor the immortal soul is a dream, the voice of the seers affirms again and again. Man is more than plasma and genes and chemicals, these are only his first instrumental base. Neither is he merely a polished animal nor a suited-booted brute. This is only his first schooling stage. His battle for survival is only the first labour of nature to reveal the gods hiding within. Moulded and made ready by this hard labour of battle and fury, he grows ready to bear the burden of the delight that comes when the gods manifest. Even now, in his darkness and unconsciousness, nature chisels to create a niche for the veiled deity in his inmost heart. Even in these sombre cloud-laden days, there leaps a ray or two of the morning sun. Dawn fills him with joy, the child smiles in dreams of silver heavens, the hero conquers and triumphs even through his death and fall, aspiration calls him to the Beyond, hopes grow in him for immortality, thoughts from a higher world enter the circuits of his brain, the heart of man falls in love with the heart of an Unseen Beloved.
This is the slow miracle that awaits its triumphant hour, — the miracle when man the brute shall grow into the stature of a god, — the man-divine.
