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Chapter XIII: Astral Plane Occupation2237<br />

of earth-life—between what we call a reality, and a fictitious or an artificial<br />

counterfeit of the same, in this, our world. The same principle cannot apply<br />

to the two sets of conditions.…The spiritual soul has no substance…nor is<br />

it confined to one place with a limited horizon of perceptions around it.<br />

Therefore, whether in or out of its mortal body, it is ever distinct, and free<br />

from its limitations; and, if we call its Devanchanic experiences ‘acheating of<br />

nature,’ then we should never be allowed to call ‘reality’ any of those purely<br />

abstract feelings that belong entirely to, and are reflected and assimilated by,<br />

our higher soul—such, for instance, as an ideal perception of the beautiful,<br />

profound philanthropy, love, etc., as well as every other purely spiritual<br />

sensation that during life fills our inner being with either immense pain or<br />

joy.”<br />

Surely to the aspiring soul there is a far greater happiness in the thought<br />

of a heaven-world in which shall be worked out the problems of this life—in<br />

which the creative impulse shall be given full opportunity for unfoldment<br />

and development, to the end that in a newer and fuller life to come there<br />

shall be a putting forth of blossom and fruit, of heart’s desires come true,<br />

of ideals made real—than in a heaven of the cessation of unfoldment and<br />

creative endeavor, where all is finished, where there is nothing to be done<br />

or created, where there is no occupation but to fold hands end enjoy the<br />

bliss of eternal idleness. The creative instinct is from the very heart of Nature<br />

herself, the throbbing of her own life-blood, for Nature is ever at work,<br />

creating, doing, performing, becoming, making, achieving—forever, and<br />

ever, and ever, on, and on, and on, without ceasing, rising from greater to<br />

greater achievement, as the aeons of time fly by. Verily this alone is life, and:<br />

“All other life is living death, a land where none but phantoms dwell;<br />

“A wind, a sound, a breath, a voice; the tinkling of the Camel’s bell.”<br />

And yet so grounded in materiality is the world of men, that they would<br />

speak of the heaven-world of the higher Astral Plane as a mirage, a mere

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