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Full text of "A hermit in the Himalayas"

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I have come to the Himalayas to declare further war on these
invisible antagonists. Not that I cannot keep them at bay when I
set out determinedly to do so; not that I am unaware of those
theoretical and practical secrets whose application may give me a
good victory; not that I even lack powerful personal aid in these
undertakings. But I have kept these invaders at bay only for a time,
whilst my victories have never given me more than a temporary
respite. Such is their ancestral power over man. The spiritual
summit of my life has yet to be attained. The time has come, how-
ever, to stage another pitched and continuous battle with them until
one or the other combatant retires from the field.

No better setting for this battle may be found than these remote
and lonely Himalayan wilds. In none of the many countries which I
have visited—for I only feel at home when I am abroad!—have I
found an atmosphere so conducive towards spiritual tranquillization
as in these mountains to which my destiny has finally brought me.
Here, best of all, can one realize, make real, the saying of the
Psalmist, "Be still, and know that I am God."

No better method may be practised—for me, at any rate—than
sitting down and being still. No Government permit is necessary to
enter the divine domain which lies just beyond the Himalayan
barrier of intellect. No greater help is procurable from men than
that which has been promised me by my Master. His power is such,
I know, that the two thousand miles or less between us dwindle to a
mere two feet at his will.

What more can I require?

But the shadows of twilight have crept in the sanctuary like a shy
maiden creeping into her lover's house. Even the pink after-glow of
sunset has disappeared. Day has wearied and soon the starlight will
kiss the summits to sleep.

What, I wonder, is the mysterious quality in dayfall which
makes it so attractive to me? Why, when all the great teachers and
great Yogis of the past counsel men to meditate at daybreak do I
follow my own instinct and select the opposite pole of the day for my
favourite period of mental quiet? Every scientific fact, every esoteric
principle, every rational argument is on their side. Yet dusk is the
hour that helps me most. I must accept the beauteous revelation
which comes at this still hour, and not be a mere copier of others.

The twilight, then, shall one day provide my destined moment
of final liberation. The exile has begun his homeward journey.

I rise, for it is time to return to my forest-embowered bungalow.