Donating = Life Energy
Universal Theosophy is run by volunteers and is Dedicated to the spread of theosophical ideas in the service of human solidarity and harmony. Your monthly donations, no matter how small Help us to finance this effort. Go here to read about our programs for the year and our Secret Doctrine project.

Donate Here

Quote for the Month:

Calmness is the one thing necessary for the spirit to be heard.

-Willian Quan Judge

Up Coming Events

All from 10:00-11:30 am
Saturdays Pacific Time

Register

Fall Lecture Series

Wisdom of the Ages II
Oct. 4, 11, 18

International Great  Teachers Day and Theosophical Movement 150th Anniversary Celebration
Nov. 15

What Reincarnates?

D IOGENES LAERTIUS has preserved the story that Plato, after meeting Socrates, burned the poetic tragedies of his youth and determined to devote the rest of his life to philosophy and to the regeneration of human society. Some may think, as a recent critic has said, that after this decision Plato allowed his imagination to wither, but we prefer the view that Plato’s literary genius, instead of drying up, made him the most readable of all philosophers. That he was also the greatest is an opinion that will probably evoke criticism, but express it we must, for caution in such matters is hardly appropriate. “Out of Plato,” said Emerson, “come all things that are still written and debated among men of thought.” The late Alfred North Whitehead, most eminent of contemporary thinkers, remarked that the entire European philosophical tradition consists of “footnotes to Plato.” In recent years, however, Plato has been more attacked than admired. Shortly before the war, a Moscow professor, departing somewhat from the official Soviet line, claimed that Plato was the Founder and Father of Fascism, with Menshevist tendencies as well—in short, a Trotskyite. At about the same time, an English socialist had similar difficulties, but expressed them with greater intelligence. In the concluding chapter of his Plato Today, Mr. R. H. S. Crossman wrote: . . . I still find the Republic the greatest book on political philosophy which I have read. The more I read it, the more I hate it: and yet I cannot help returning to it time after time. For it is philosophy. It tries to reach truth by rational discussion and is itself a pattern of the disinterested research which it extols. It never bullies or deceives its reader or beguiles him with appeals to sentiment, but treats him as a fellow philosopher for whom only the truth is worth having. So Mr. Crossman, who in one place in his book whisks Plato into Nazi Germany and has him listen admiringly to one of Herr Goebbels’ speeches, becomes, as he admits, the Devil’s Disciple, recommending Plato, not because he wants to, but because he cannot help it. The integrity of Plato’s thought is for his severest critics a magnet more powerful than the repulsion of Plato’s “aristocratic” social system. This is something to ponder.

 

   Read More  

Story – The Brave Little Parrot

Once, long ago, the Buddha was born as a little parrot. One day a storm fell upon his forest home. Lightning flashed, thunder crashed, and a dead tree, struck by lightning, burst into flames. Sparks leapt on the wind and soon the forest was ablaze. Terrified animals ran wildly in every direction, seeking safety from the flames and smoke.

“Fire! Fire!” cried the little parrot. “To the river!” Flapping his wings, he flung himself out into the fury of the storm and, rising higher, flew towards the safety of the river. But as he flew he could see that many animals were trapped, surrounded by the flames below, with no chance of escape.
 
Suddenly a desperate idea, a way to save them, came to him.
He darted to the river, dipped himself in the water, and flew back over the now raging fire.
The heat rising up from the burning forest was like the heat of an oven. The thick smoke made breathing almost unbearable. A wall of flames shot up on one side, and then the other. Crackling flames leapt before him. Twisting and turning through the mad maze of fire, the little parrot flew bravely on. At last, when he was over the center of the forest, he shook his wings and released the few drops of water which still clung to his feathers. 

Poetry or Prose: Castles in the Air 

I learned this, at least, by my experiment: that if one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours. He will put some things behind, will pass an invisible boundary; new, universal, and more liberal laws will begin to establish themselves around and within him; or the old laws be expanded, and interpreted in his favor in a more liberal sense, and he will live with the license of a higher order of beings. In proportion as he simplifies his life, the laws of the universe will appear less complex, and solitude will not be solitude, nor poverty poverty, nor weakness weakness. If you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost; that is where they should be. Now put the foundations under them.

— Henry David Thoreau, from the Conclusion of Walden