From Inner Culture, March 1936
I am a type of human actor necessary for the stage of your Creation. There is no one like me. I cannot play anyone else’s part, no matter how I may wish to. I must play my part assigned by You, Cosmic Stage Manager.
I shed many a tear for what I could not be, but I wiped away my sorrow, finding that it does not matter to you whether one plays a big or a small part as long as that part is played well according to your sovereign whispers within.
By trying everything else, running around many paths, I was driven toward one way, the way that you chose for me. Now I know in which way you want me to traverse. I have learned that, although the trail was pointed by your golden fingers of still command from within, I must use my own willingness to move along the path directed by you.
You fixed the life of a crocodile to be longer than that of useful man, and the redwood tree, although less alive than man and beast, lives longer—standing alone in majestic usefulness.
The stage, set in the Hall of the Blue Sky, lighted by countless lights, scenes of present, past, and future time, keeps changing, revealing the human actors, birds, beasts, and blossoms, appearing in the ever-changing robes of many incarnations. The redwood trees, the planets, and sun and moon, remain constant—whereas the human actors keep changing.
Where are those witty Souls who sparkled on the stage of history? What fleshly or Astral robes do they wear and what parts are thy playing? Where are Shakespeare, Milton, William the Conqueror, Genghis Kahn, and St. Francis roaming? In what land are they oblivious of their former selves, perhaps, or of us, who will play one part with one name, one form, only once in this life and then never again the same. Life is interesting and changeful, and would be insufferable and intolerable if it were the same naked life always, unadorned with ornaments of mystery.
So your life is as important as any other life.