Ascending Path Quotes

Every day you may make progress. Every step may be fruitful. Yet there will stretch out before you an ever-lengthening, ever-ascending, ever-improving path. You know you will never get to the end of the journey. But this, so far from discouraging, only adds to the joy and glory of the climb.

My soul, where are you? Do you hear me? I speak, I call you - are you there? I have returned, I am here again. I have shaken the dust of all the lands from my feet, and I have come to you, I am with you. After long years of long wandering, I have come to you again. Should I tell you everything I have seen, experienced, and drunk in? Or do you not want to hear about all the noise of life and the world? But one thing you must know: the one thing I have learned is that one must live this life. Do you still know me? How long the separation lasted! Everything has become so different. And how did I find you? How strange my journey was! What words should I use to tell you on what twisted paths a good star has guided me to you? Give me your hand, my almost forgotten soul. How warm the joy at seeing you again, you long disavowed soul. Life has led me back to you. Let us thank the life I have lived for all the happy and all the sad hours, for every joy, for every sadness. My soul, my journey should continue with you. I will wander with you and ascend to my solitude.

After Bajju delivered a few beaming salutations, we walked northward up the makeshift, winding path through protruding brush, not much but a few stones placed here and there for balance and leverage upon ascending or descending. Having advanced about hundred steps from the street below, a sharp left leads to Bajju’s property, which begins with his family’s miniature garden – at the time any signs of fertility were mangled by dried roots which flailed like wheat straw, but within the day Bajju’s children vehemently delivered blows with miniature hoes in preparation for transforming such a plot into a no-longer-neglected vegetable garden. A few steps through the produce, or preferably circumventing all of it by taking a few extra steps around the perimeter, leads to the sky-blue painted home. Twisting left, hundreds of miles of rolling hills and the occasional home peeps out, bound below by demarcated farming steppes. If you’re lucky on a clear day and twist to the right, the monstrous, perpetually snow-capped Chaukhamba mountain monopolizes the distance just fifteen miles toward the direction of Tibet in the north.

The truth was, most people simply weren’t worth one’s attention. *

Paradoxically, in descending into the depths of the unconscious in order to deal with the prima materia of the shadow, we are simultaneously on the path of ascending to the truly real, as we become introduced to the higher-dimensional light worlds of spirit.

Want to see the size of my love?" he invites. "Ascend the winding path outside Jerusalem. Follow the dots of bloody dirt until you crest the hill. Before looking up, pause and hear me whisper, "This is how much i love you.

Xethel laughed again, though rather nervously this time. ‘Then I name you Amman-an-ash. The One Who Would Know Everything.’ She nodded in Dancer’s direction. ‘And you I name Coth-tel-ish-ath. The One Who Watches and Judges.

Take the Cup, Sophia Collins,"she said, and the room was breathlessly silent. The Council chamber was not full, but the row Tessa sat at the end was:Gideon and Gabriel, Cecily and Henry, and her and Will, all leaning forward eagerly, waiting for Sophie to Ascend. At each end of the dais stood a Silent Brother, their heads bent, their parchment robes looking as if they had been carved out of marble. Charlotte lowered the Cup, and held it out to Sophie, who took it carefully. "Do you swear, Sophia Collins, to forsake the mundane world and follow the path of the Shadowhunter? Will you take into yourself the blood of the Angel Raziel and honor that blood? Do you swear to serve the Clave, to follow the Law as set forth by the Covernant, and to obey the word of the Council? Will you defend that which is human and mortal, knowing that for your service there will be no recompense and no thanks but honor?"I swear,"said Sophie, her voice very steady. "Can you be a shield for the weak, a light in the dark, a truth among falsehoods, a tower in the flood, an eye to see when all others are blind?" I can." "And when you are dead, will you give up your body to the Nephilim to be burned, that your ashes may be used to build the City of Bones?" "I will." "The drink,"said Charlotte. Tessa heard Gideon draw in his breath. This was the dangerous part of the ritual. This was the part that would kill the untrained and unworthy. Sophie bent her dark head and set the Cup to her lips. Tessa sat forward, her chest tight with aprehension. She felt Will's hand slide over hers, a warm, comforting weight. Sophie's throat moved as she swallowed. The circle that surrounded her and Charlotte flared up once with a cold, blue-white light, obscuring them both. When it faded, Tessa was left blinking stars from her eyes as the light dwindled. She blinked hastily, and saw Sophie hold up the Cup. there was a glow about the Cup she held as she handed it back to Charlotte, who smiled broadly. "You are Nehilim now,"she said. "I name you Sophia Shadowhunter, of the blood of Jonathan Shadowhunter, child of the Nehilim. Arise, Sophia.

I thought of Dante the Pilgrim, of the words of warning he had received: You will know how hard a path it is for one who goes ascending and descending others’ stairs.

The superstitions of the ignorant are no concern of mine.

From the old and pleasantly situated village of Mayenfeld, a footpath winds through green and shady meadows to the foot of the mountains, which on this side look down from their stern and lofty heights upon the valley below. The land grows gradually wilder as the path ascends, and the climber has not gone far before he begins to inhale the fragrance of the short grass and sturdy mountain plants, for the way is steep and leads directly up to the summits above.

Many spiritual disciplines, especially those oriented toward ascendance, advise us to give up the self, to surrender all to a master, guru, or a particular concept of God. While it is important to give up attachments to the lower egos, what is really called for is to become one with the divine. There is no we without an I. To become one with the divine is not to abandon the Self (as archetype of wholeness) but to realize that divine consciousness of who that Self really is.

I have been able to solve a few problems of mathematical physics on which the greatest mathematicians since Euler have struggled in vain ... But the pride I might have held in my conclusions was perceptibly lessened by the fact that I knew that the solution of these problems had almost always come to me as the gradual generalization of favorable examples, by a series of fortunate conjectures, after many errors. I am fain to compare myself with a wanderer on the mountains who, not knowing the path, climbs slowly and painfully upwards and often has to retrace his steps because he can go no further—then, whether by taking thought or from luck, discovers a new track that leads him on a little till at length when he reaches the summit he finds to his shame that there is a royal road by which he might have ascended, had he only the wits to find the right approach to it. In my works, I naturally said nothing about my mistake to the reader, but only described the made track by which he may now reach the same heights without difficulty.

Most of us understandably start the journey assuming that God is “up there,” and our job is to transcend this world to find “him.” We spend so much time trying to get “up there,” we miss that God’s big leap in Jesus was to come “down here.” So much of our worship and religious effort is the spiritual equivalent of trying to go up what has become the down escalator. I suspect that the “up there” mentality is the way most people’s spiritual search has to start. But once the real inner journey begins—once you come to know that in Christ, God is forever overcoming the gap between human and divine—the Christian path becomes less about climbing and performance, and more about descending, letting go, and unlearning. Knowing and loving Jesus is largely about becoming fully human, wounds and all, instead of ascending spiritually or thinking we can remain unwounded. (The ego does not like this fundamental switch at all, so we keep returning to some kind of performance principle, trying to climb out of this messy incarnation instead of learning from it.

Very well, I shall wait and see. However, I don’t think it’s a good thing for you to ascend too early. Let me ask you, what is The Path?” Xie Lian inclined his head. “As you have said, that which is walked is The Path.

When the Creator banished from his sight Frail man to dark mortality's abode, And granted him a late return to light, Only by treading reason's arduous road,— When each immortal turned his face away, She, the compassionate, alone Took up her dwelling in that house of clay, With the deserted, banished one. With drooping wing she hovers here Around her darling, near the senses' land, And on his prison-walls so drear Elysium paints with fond deceptive hand. While soft humanity still lay at rest, Within her tender arms extended, No flame was stirred by bigots' murderous zest, No guiltless blood on high ascended. The heart that she in gentle fetters binds, Views duty's slavish escort scornfully; Her path of light, though fairer far it winds, Sinks in the sun-track of morality. Those who in her chaste service still remain, No grovelling thought can tempt, no fate affright; The spiritual life, so free from stain, Freedom's sweet birthright, they receive again, Under the mystic sway of holy might.

If you corner him there will be bloodshed. And I do not like bloodshed.’ Dorin arched a brow. ‘Really. You don’t like bloodshed.’ ‘No. It’s messy and unsophisticated. There are better ways of doing things.’ ‘Such as?’ Wu brightened, flashed his yellowed crooked teeth. ‘My ways. Lying, trickery, deceit, cheating, or just plain patience. He will come to us.

I’m drinking a glass of water in the empty hotel bar at the Principe di Savoia and staring at the mural behind the bar and in the mural there is a giant mountain, a vast field spread out below it where villagers are celebrating in a field of long grass that blankets the mountain dotted with tall white flowers, and in the sky above the mountain it’s morning and the sun is spreading itself across the mural’s frame, burning over the small cliffs and the low-hanging clouds that encircle the mountain’s peak, and a bridge strung across a path through the mountain will take you to any point beyond that you need to arrive at, because behind that mountain is a highway and along that highway are billboards with answers on them – who, what, where, when, why – and I’m falling forward but also moving up toward the mountain, my shadow looming against its jagged peaks, and I’m surging forward, ascending, sailing through dark clouds, rising up, a fiery wind propelling me, and soon it’s night and stars hang in the sky above the mountain revolving as they burn. The stars are real. The future is that mountain.

Hermes bowed his head in thankfulness to the Great Dragon who had taught him so much, and begged to hear more concerning the ultimate of the human soul. So Poimandres resumed: "At death the material body of man is returned to the elements from which it came, and the invisible divine man ascends to the source from whence he came, namely the Eighth Sphere... "Then, being naked of all the accumulations of the seven Rings, the soul comes to the Eighth Sphere, namely, the ring of the fixed stars. Here, freed of all illusion, it dwells in the Light and sings praises to the Father in a voice which only the pure of spirit may understand. Behold, O Hermes, there is a great mystery in the Eighth Sphere, for the Milky Way is the seed-ground of souls, and from it they drop into the Rings, and to the Milky Way they return again from the wheels of Saturn. But some cannot climb the seven-runged ladder of the Rings. So they wander in darkness below and are swept into eternity with the illusion of sense and earthiness. "The path to immortality is hard, and only a few find it. The rest await the Great Day when the wheels of the universe shall be stopped and the immortal sparks shall escape from the sheaths of substance. Woe unto those who wait, for they must return again, unconscious and unknowing, to the seed-ground of stars, and await a new beginning. Those who are saved by the light of the mystery which I have revealed unto you, O Hermes, and which I now bid you to establish among men, shall return again to the Father who dwelleth in the White Light, and shall deliver themselves up to the Light and shall be absorbed into the Light, and in the Light they shall become Powers in God. This is the Way of Good and is revealed only to them that have wisdom.

As I ascended, I realized I didn’t understand what a mountain was, or even if I was hiking up one mountain or a series of them glommed together. I’d not grown up around mountains. I’d walked on a few, but only on well-trod paths on day hikes. They’d seemed to be nothing more than really big hills. But they were not that. They were, I now realized, layered and complex, inexplicable and analogous to nothing. Each time I reached the place that I thought was the top of the mountain or the series of mountains glommed together, I was wrong. There was still more up to go, even if first there was a tiny slope that went tantalizingly down. So up I went until I reached what really was the top. I knew it was the top because there was snow. Not on the ground, but falling from the sky, in thin flakes that swirled in mad patterns, pushed by the wind.

Messinath of Purge,

All beings begin their lives with hopes and aspirations. Among these aspirations is the desire that there will be a straight path to those goals. It is seldom so. Perhaps never.

However much we wish the soul’s path to be straight, upward, and ascending, it is more likely to be meandering, full of regressions, downward turns, and backward glances.

There were as many paths out of hell as there were people, and the vast majority of them ascended.

Hallaj points out Divine Compassion as another attribute which makes it possible for the personal "I," ana, to enter into a silent and contemplative dialog with God (Tasin 10:24). The unknowability of God is received as Divine Compassion by man. The human cry of isolation is answered by compassion. But the ascending path leading to Divine Compassion begins with man's unconditional yes to the Divine Will.

Upward growth occurs in cycles that build upon each other in an ascending spiral of capacity and understanding. They are often not easy, but they are always beneficial. As you walk the path of righteousness, you will grow in strength, understanding, and self­esteem. You will discover hidden talents and unknown capacities. The whole course of your life may be altered for your happiness and the Lord’s purposes.

I feel we are becoming divergent upon the paths we are walking down. I feel we are becoming distant, as the way we see things becomes more pronounced. I feel I know you less, where once I knew you like I knew myself before. I fear that in the end, we will become no more. When that guillotine descends, friend will be friend no longer. As time ascends, we will move forward on different paths in life's Wonderland.

Now by the Path I Climbed, I Journey Back Now by the path I climbed, I journey back. The oaks have grown; I have been long away. Taking with me your memory and your lack I now descend into a milder day; Stripped of your love, unburdened of my hope, Descend the path I mounted from the plain; Yet steeper than I fancied seems the slope And stonier, now that I go down again. Warm falls the dusk; the clanking of a bell Faintly ascends upon this heavier air; I do recall those grassy pastures well: In early spring they drove the cattle there. And close at hand should be a shelter, too, From which the mountain peaks are not in view.

So he was finished with Dorin. He was not the lad he’d been when he’d entered the city. Not that he’d been some green farmhand, but he’d been untested, unbloodied . . . unready. Not so now. Dorin was done. Hard lessons luckily survived had put an end to that lad and his dreams. A transition from which a good few do not emerge alive. But necessary, if hard. The city had cut away the untried Dorin and trampled his dreams into the mud and the mire. He was Dancer now, and Dancer from now on.

From the old and pleasantly situated village of Mayenfeld, a footpath winds through green and shady meadows to the foot of the mountains, which on this side look down from their stern and lofty heights upon the valley below. The land grows gradually wilder as the path ascends, and the climber has not gone far before he begins to inhale the fragrance of the short grass and sturdy mountain plants, for the way is steep and leads directly up to the summits above. On a clear sunny morning in June two figures might be seen climbing the narrow mountain path; one, a tall strong-looking girl, the other a child whom she was leading by the hand, and whose little checks were so aglow with heat that the crimson color could be seen even through the dark, sunburned skin.

But neither could compare with the gargantuan natural edifice that was the mountain upon which Nachtstürm Castle rose. It was a mountain made of the darkness between two lightning bolts. It was made less of earth than Stygian frost. Whole towns fell away as they ascended, as though the ranks of black and frowning conifers waged war against the humans below. Even the path – rather narrow and rarely straight – seemed less made by centuries of pilgrim feet and more by the trace of some careless demon’s claw. It was, in fact, perfect.

When I close my eyes to see, to hear, to smell, to touch a country I have known, I feel my body shake and fill with joy as if a beloved person had come near me. A rabbi was once asked the following question: ‘When you say that the Jews should return to Palestine, you mean, surely, the heavenly, the immaterial, the spiritual Palestine, our true homeland?’ The rabbi jabbed his staff into the ground in wrath and shouted, ‘No! I want the Palestine down here, the one you can touch with your hands, with its stones, its thorns and its mud!’ Neither am I nourished by fleshless, abstract memories. If I expected my mind to distill from a turbid host of bodily joys and bitternesses an immaterial, crystal-clear thought, I would die of hunger. When I close my eyes in order to enjoy a country again, my five senses, the five mouth-filled tentacles of my body, pounce upon it and bring it to me. Colors, fruits, women. The smells of orchards, of filthy narrow alleys, of armpits. Endless snows with blue, glittering reflections. Scorching, wavy deserts of sand shimmering under the hot sun. Tears, cries, songs, distant bells of mules, camels or troikas. The acrid, nauseating stench of some Mongolian cities will never leave my nostrils. And I will eternally hold in my hands – eternally, that is, until my hands rot – the melons of Bukhara, the watermelons of the Volga, the cool, dainty hand of a Japanese girl… For a time, in my early youth, I struggled to nourish my famished soul by feeding it with abstract concepts. I said that my body was a slave and that its duty was to gather raw material and bring it to the orchard of the mind to flower and bear fruit and become ideas. The more fleshless, odorless, soundless the world was that filtered into me, the more I felt I was ascending the highest peak of human endeavor. And I rejoiced. And Buddha came to be my greatest god, whom I loved and revered as an example. Deny your five senses. Empty your guts. Love nothing, hate nothing, desire nothing, hope for nothing. Breathe out and the world will be extinguished. But one night I had a dream. A hunger, a thirst, the influence of a barbarous race that had not yet become tired of the world had been secretly working within me. My mind pretended to be tired. You felt it had known everything, had become satiated, and was now smiling ironically at the cries of my peasant heart. But my guts – praised be God! – were full of blood and mud and craving. And one night I had a dream. I saw two lips without a face – large, scimitar-shaped woman’s lips. They moved. I heard a voice ask, ‘Who if your God?’ Unhesitatingly I answered, ‘Buddha!’ But the lips moved again and said: ‘No, Epaphus.’ I sprang up out of my sleep. Suddenly a great sense of joy and certainty flooded my heart. What I had been unable to find in the noisy, temptation-filled, confused world of wakefulness I had found now in the primeval, motherly embrace of the night. Since that night I have not strayed. I follow my own path and try to make up for the years of my youth that were lost in the worship of fleshless gods, alien to me and my race. Now I transubstantiate the abstract concepts into flesh and am nourished. I have learned that Epaphus, the god of touch, is my god. All the countries I have known since then I have known with my sense of touch. I feel my memories tingling, not in my head but in my fingertips and my whole skin. And as I bring back Japan to my mind, my hands tremble as if they were touching the breast of a beloved woman.

Quite natural for men, of course, who have worked so hard and put so much into their prized jobs, to want to maintain a balance and not allow new fatherhood to derail a promotion or an ascending career path. But for a woman to voice the same priorities? Cold. Hard. Selfish.

Philosophy is a high mountain road...an isolated road and becomes even more desolate the higher we ascend. Whoever pursues this path should show no fear but must leave everything behind and confidently make his own way in the wintry snow.... He soon sees the world beneath him

[...]They offended Hood,' he stated flatly. 'And How they did that?' Silk enquired. 'They demanded a tithe upon the temple. I demonstrated Hood's tithe.' 'And who are you to judge?' Smokey demanded. The lad's Dark, almost blue-black eyes edged aside to Smokey. 'I am Hood's Sword.

Meanwhile, my soul quietly ascends to a higher plane. I’m gone. Deceased. Dead from too much overwhelming euphoria. My body is sandwiched between three men I love who love me. We all found our path to each other in the most surprising of ways. They’re working together to bring all of us pleasure. A unit. A team.

Banishing them to wild and ferocious brokenness. The possibility that there is a place in them, in everyone, that is unbroken, that has never gained a pound, never been hungry, never been wounded, seems like a myth as far-fetched as the Sumerian goddess Inanna ascending to earth after hanging on a meat hook in hell.

One morning she at last succeeded in helping him to the foot of the steps, trampling down the grass before him with her feet, and clearing a way for him through the briars, whose supple arms barred the last few yards. Then they slowly entered the wood of roses. It was indeed a very wood, with thickets of tall standard roses throwing out leafy clumps as big as trees, and enormous rose bushes impenetrable as copses of young oaks. Here, formerly, there had been a most marvellous collection of plants. But since the flower garden had been left in abandonment, everything had run wild, and a virgin forest had arisen, a forest of roses over-running the paths, crowded with wild offshoots, so mingled, so blended, that roses of every scent and hue seemed to blossom on the same stem. Creeping roses formed mossy carpets on the ground, while climbing roses clung to others like greedy ivy plants, and ascended in spindles of verdure, letting a shower of their loosened petals fall at the lightest breeze. Natural paths coursed through the wood — narrow footways, broad avenues, enchanting covered walks in which one strolled in the shade and scent. These led to glades and clearings, under bowers of small red roses, and between walls hung with tiny yellow ones. Some sunny nooks gleamed like green silken stuff embroidered with bright patterns; other shadier corners offered the seclusion of alcoves and an aroma of love, the balmy warmth, as it were, of a posy languishing on a woman’s bosom. The rose bushes had whispering voices too. And the rose bushes were full of songbirds’ nests. ‘We must take care not to lose ourselves,’ said Albine, as she entered the wood. ‘I did lose myself once, and the sun had set before I was able to free myself from the rose bushes which caught me by the skirt at every step.’ They had barely walked a few minutes, however, before Serge, worn out with fatigue, wished to sit down. He stretched himself upon the ground, and fell into deep slumber. Albine sat musing by his side. They were on the edge of a glade, near a narrow path which stretched away through the wood, streaked with flashes of sunlight, and, through a small round blue gap at its far end, revealed the sky. Other little paths led from the clearing into leafy recesses. The glade was formed of tall rose bushes rising one above the other with such a wealth of branches, such a tangle of thorny shoots, that big patches of foliage were caught aloft, and hung there tent-like, stretching out from bush to bush. Through the tiny apertures in the patches of leaves, which were suggestive of fine lace, the light

All beings begin their lives with hope and aspirations. Among these aspirations is the desire that there will be a straight path to those goals. It is seldom so. Perhaps never. Sometimes the turns are of one's own volition, as one's thoughts and goals change over time. But more often the turns are mandated by outside forces. It was so with me. The memory is vivid, unsullied by age: the five admirals rising from their chairs as I am escorted into the chamber. The decision of the Ascendancy has been made, and they are here to deliver it. None of them is happy with the decision. I can read that in their faces. But they are officers and servants of the Chiss, and they will carry out their orders. Protocol alone demands that. The word is as I expected. Exile. The planet has already been chosen. The Aristocra will assemble the equipment necessary to endure that solitude does not quickly become Death from predators or the elements. I am led away. Once again, my path has turned. Where it will lead, I cannot say.

It is important to understand that, according to Kashmir Shaivism, this analysis of all phenomena into thirty six tattvas is not an absolute truth. It has been worked out by the authors of the philosophy as a tool of understanding for the ever-active and inquiring mind and as a form for contemplative meditation. Through further analysis, the number of tattvas can be increased to any level. Similarly, through synthesis, they can be decreased down to one tattva alone. In fact this has been done in the Tantraloka, where one can find doctrines of contemplation on fifteen, thirteen, eleven, nine, seven, five, and as few as three tattvas as well. The practitioners of the Trika system use only three tattvas in the process of a quick sadhana: Shiva representing the absolute unity, Shakti representing the link between duality and unity, and Nara representing the extreme duality. [Shakti is the path through which Shiva descends to the position of Nara and the latter ascends to the position of Shiva.] Finally, a highly advanced Shiva yogin sees only the Shiva tattva in the whole of creation. However, since the contemplative practice of tattvadhvadharana used in anava upaya includes meditation on all thirty sex tattvas, that is the number commonly accepted by the Shaivas of both northern and southern India. — B. N. Pandit, Specific Principles of Kashmir Shaivism (3rd ed., 2008), p. 79.

For Christ says: 'I am the Way by which one comes to the Father; there is no other way. I and no one else am the Truth and the Life.' You must take this road in order to hold to this Man and to persevere in this faith and confession. You must travel it in suffering and death, saying: 'I know other help or counsel, no salvation or comfort, no way or path, except Christ my Lord alone, who suffered, died, rose, and ascended to heaven for me. I will stay on this road all the way, even though nothing but the devil, death, and hell were under and before me. For this is surely the right road and bridge; it is firmer and safer than any stone or iron structure. And heaven and earth would have to collapse before this road would ever deceive me or lead me astray.

From the old and pleasantly situated village of Mayenfeld, a footpath winds through green and shady meadows to the foot of the mountains, which on this side look down from their stern and lofty heights upon the valley below. The land grows gradually wilder as the path ascends, and the climber has not gone far before he begins to inhale the fragrance of the short grass and sturdy mountain-plants, for the way is steep and leads directly up to the summits above. On a clear sunny morning in June two figures might be seen climbing the narrow mountain path; one, a tall strong-looking girl, the other a child whom she was leading by the hand, and whose little checks were so aglow with heat that the crimson color could be seen even through the dark, sunburnt skin.

Senlin loved nothing more in the world than a warm hearth to set his feet upon and a good book to pour his whole mind into. While an evening storm rattled the shutters and a glass of port wine warmed in his hand, Senlin would read into the wee hours of the night. He especially delighted in the old tales, the epics in which heroes set out on some impossible and noble errand, confronting the dangers in their path with fatalistic bravery. Men often died along the way, killed in brutal and unnatural ways; they were gored by war machines, trampled by steeds, and dismembered by their heartless enemies. Their deaths were boastful and lyrical and always, always more romantic than real. Death was not an end. It was an ellipsis. There was no romance in the scene before him. There were no ellipses here. The bodies lay upon the ground like broken exclamation points.

Philosophy is a high mountain road which is reached only by a steep path covered with sharp stones and prickly thorns. It is an isolated road and becomes ever more desolate the higher we ascend. Whoever pursues this path must show no fear, but must leave everything behind and confidently make his own way in the wintry snow. Often he suddenly comes to a precipice and looks down upon the verdant valley. A violent attack of dizziness draws him over the edge, but he must control himself and cling to the rocks with might and main. In return to this, he soon sees the world beneath him; its sandy deserts and morasses vanish from his view, its uneven spots are leveled out, its jarring sounds no longer reach his ear, and its roundness is revealed to him. He himself is always in the pure cool mountain air and now beholds the sun when all below is still engulfed in dead of night.

According to the gospels, Christ healed diseases, cast out devils, rebuked the sea, cured the blind, fed multitudes with five loaves and two fishes, walked on the sea, cursed a fig tree, turned water into wine and raised the dead. How is it possible to substantiate these miracles? The Jews, among whom they were said to have been performed, did not believe them. The diseased, the palsied, the leprous, the blind who were cured, did not become followers of Christ. Those that were raised from the dead were never heard of again. Can we believe that Christ raised the dead? A widow living in Nain is following the body of her son to the tomb. Christ halts the funeral procession and raises the young man from the dead and gives him back to the arms of his mother. This young man disappears. He is never heard of again. No one takes the slightest interest in the man who returned from the realm of death. Luke is the only one who tells the story. Maybe Matthew, Mark and John never heard of it, or did not believe it and so failed to record it. John says that Lazarus was raised from the dead. It was more wonderful than the raising of the widow’s son. He had not been laid in the tomb for days. He was only on his way to the grave, but Lazarus was actually dead. He had begun to decay. Lazarus did not excite the least interest. No one asked him about the other world. No one inquired of him about their dead friends. When he died the second time no one said: “He is not afraid. He has traveled that road twice and knows just where he is going.” We do not believe in the miracles of Mohammed, and yet they are as well attested as this. We have no confidence in the miracles performed by Joseph Smith, and yet the evidence is far greater, far better. If a man should go about now pretending to raise the dead, pretending to cast out devils, we would regard him as insane. What, then, can we say of Christ? If we wish to save his reputation we are compelled to say that he never pretended to raise the dead; that he never claimed to have cast out devils. We must take the ground that these ignorant and impossible things were invented by zealous disciples, who sought to deify their leader. In those ignorant days these falsehoods added to the fame of Christ. But now they put his character in peril and belittle the authors of the gospels. Christianity cannot live in peace with any other form of faith. If that religion be true, there is but one savior, one inspired book, and but one little narrow grass-grown path that leads to heaven. Why did he not again enter the temple and end the old dispute with demonstration? Why did he not confront the Roman soldiers who had taken money to falsely swear that his body had been stolen by his friends? Why did he not make another triumphal entry into Jerusalem? Why did he not say to the multitude: “Here are the wounds in my feet, and in my hands, and in my side. I am the one you endeavored to kill, but death is my slave”? Simply because the resurrection is a myth. The miracle of the resurrection I do not and cannot believe. We know nothing certainly of Jesus Christ. We know nothing of his infancy, nothing of his youth, and we are not sure that such a person ever existed. There was in all probability such a man as Jesus Christ. He may have lived in Jerusalem. He may have been crucified; but that he was the Son of God, or that he was raised from the dead, and ascended bodily to heaven, has never been, and, in the nature of things, can never be, substantiated.

You are allowed to lead, to redefine, to revolutionize, to birth. You are allowed to take the path less traveled, to speak-up while everyone is silent, to take the right action even if you are by yourself, to choose your mission especially when others don’t understand it yet. You are allowed to be free, to leave, to move forward, to start over, to reinvent yourself, to be your higher-self. You are allowed to heal, to outgrow, to raise your consciousness, to ascend, to come home. On a planet full of scared souls, you are allowed to be brave

I am fain to compare myself with a wanderer on the mountains who, not knowing the path, climbs slowly and painfully upwards and often has to retrace his steps because he can go no further—then, whether by taking thought or from luck, discovers a new track that leads him on a little till at length when he reaches the summit he finds to his shame that there is a royal road by which he might have ascended, had he only the wits to find the right approach to it. In my works, I naturally said nothing about my mistake to the reader, but only described the made track by which he may now reach the same heights without difficulty.

They say everything happens for a reason. I can see the truth within that now. If it was not for all the mishaps, all the drama, all the heartache, all the stress that I have endured within the last six months I would not have the book that I have just published, nor the works for the next two books that I am currently working on. If I would have had my cake to eat it as well I may still be stuck where was six months ago. Or worst I may have a regular job. YIKES!!! But in retrospect everything that has happened to me in the last six month I now take with wisdom and a thankful heart for all of the turbulence within my life, as crazy as that sounds. Sometimes it is when you hit rock bottom that you can begin to reach for the stars and beyond. Today I shed the last of my painful tears and I released myself of the countless disappointments within my heart. I am now totally focused on my path. I have already reached many plateaus to meet my ultimate goal of being an accomplished author. I have tried it many times and now it is my time to shine. I have full knowledge of what to do and how to execute my master plan. Within time my words will ascend to the four corners of the universe and I will be on my way to travel the world and see all the great sites this beautiful planet has to offer.

Ciara had shed her boots and thrown herself down on the bed, letting out a quiet moan. The noise, along with the sight of her in the dim light sent his thoughts down a path he’d forced himself not to think on since they’d been running for their lives. “Spirits,” she sighed. “A real bed.” He let out a low chuckle, walking around to the other side of the bed and sitting on the edge so that he could take off him own boots. “Well, if I’d known you’d be this easy to please…” She threw a pillow at him, her laughter flooding his chest with warmth. He’d missed this part of them and he desperately wanted it back, even if it was only for one night.

My mule was brought to the door, and I resolved to ascend to the summit of Montanvert. I remembered the effect that the view of the tremendous and ever-moving glacier had produced upon my mind when I first saw it. It had then filled me with a sublime ecstasy that gave wings to the soul and allowed it to soar from the obscure world to light and joy. The sight of the awful and majestic in nature had indeed always the effect of solemnising my mind and causing me to forget the passing cares of life. I determined to go without a guide, for I was well acquainted with the path, and the presence of another would destroy the solitary grandeur of the scene.

What had become of the singular ascending ambition that had driven young Roosevelt from his earliest days? What explains his willingness, against the counsel of his most trusted friends, to accept seemingly low-level jobs that traced neither a clear-cut nor a reliably ascending career path? The answer lies in probing what Roosevelt gleaned from his crucible experience. His expectation of and belief in a smooth, upward trajectory, either in life or in politics, was gone forever. He questioned if leadership success could be obtained by attaching oneself to a series of titled positions. If a person focused too much on a future that could not be controlled, he would become, Roosevelt acknowledged, too “careful, calculating, cautious in word and act.” Thereafter, he would jettison long-term career calculations and focus simply on whatever job opportunity came his way, assuming it might be his last. “Do what you can, with what you have, where you are,” he liked to say. In a very real way, Roosevelt had come to see political life as a succession of crucibles—good or bad—able to crush or elevate. He would view each position as a test of character, effort, endurance, and will. He would keep nothing in reserve for some will-o-the-wisp future. Rather, he would regard each job as a pivotal test, a manifestation of his leadership skills.

PSALM 139 O LORD, you have  p searched me and known me! 2    You  q know when I sit down and when I rise up;         you  r discern my thoughts from afar. 3    You search out my path and my lying down         and are acquainted with all my ways. 4    Even before a word is on my tongue,         behold, O LORD,  s you know it altogether. 5    You  t hem me in, behind and before,         and  u lay your hand upon me. 6     v Such knowledge is  w too wonderful for me;         it is high; I cannot attain it.     7  x Where shall I go from your Spirit?         Or where  y shall I flee from your presence? 8     z If I ascend to heaven, you are there!          a If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there! 9    If I take the wings of the morning         and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, 10    even there your hand shall  b lead me,         and your right hand shall hold me. 11    If I say,  c “Surely the darkness shall cover me,         and the light about me be night,” 12     d even the darkness is not dark to you;         the night is bright as the day,         for darkness is as light with you.     13 For you  e formed my inward parts;         you  f knitted me together in my mother’s womb. 14    I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. [1]      g Wonderful are your works;         my soul knows it very well. 15     h My frame was not hidden from you,     when I was being made in secret,         intricately woven in  i the depths of the earth. 16    Your eyes saw my unformed substance;     in your  j book were written, every one of them,         the days that were formed for me,         when as yet there was none of them.

Evolutionary scientists Michael McGuire and Michael Raleigh conducted experiments on vervet monkeys and found that males with high social rank had almost twice as much serotonin in their blood as did the low-ranking monkeys (McGuire & Troisi, 1998). As with T, however, the causal paths can run in both directions. When alpha males were overthrown, their serotonin levels plummeted. When a lower-ranking male ascended to power, his serotonin levels rose. McGuire and Raleigh discovered that they could dramatically reduce the serotonin levels of an alpha male simply by keeping him behind a one-way mirror so that the other monkeys could not see him and thus they did not perform the submissive displays. Apparently, the alpha males interpret the failure of others to submit as a sign of lost status, so their serotonin levels plummet.

I am bought, she thinks. I am paid for. I am bought. When she first arrived at the Environment Ministry as Akkarat's mole, it was a surprise to discover that the little privileges of the Environment Ministry were always enough. The weekly take from street stalls to burn something other than expensive approved-source methane. The pleasure of a night patrol spent sleeping well. It was an easy existence. Even under Jaidee, it was easy. And now by ill-luck she must work, and the work is important, and she has had two masters for so long that she cannot remember which one should be ascendant. Someone else should have replaced you, Jaidee. Someone worthy. The Kingdom falls because we are not strong. We are not virtuous, we do not follow the eightfold path and now the sicknesses come again. And she is the one who must stand against them, like Phra Seub—but without the strength or moral compass.

Nine is the number of the feast without limits, where all that’s possible waxes probable and whatever may be, might be. Nine is the symbol seized in sleep and seeded into forever, freed by dreams and fervent screams of what should be. Nine kindles the imagination unbound by reason, risen to conceive without surcease or subjection to objective truth. Nine quickens the flesh to breach the formulas of fell, fallacious form and reach beyond the lines that bind and blind. Nine hails ambition unbowed by reality, driven to roam and remake the world without submission to sense or tangibility. Nine heralds the Angel Ascendant and the Architect Infernal alike, a phoenix and a many-headed serpent entwined. Nine is the beginning in the end, coiled and convoluted to create and devour until the difference is none. Nine marks the most wondrous and treacherous of paths, and thus the only one worth walking, for enlightenment lies in waking. Nine is nought but itself and one and all.

Give All to Love Give all to love; Obey thy heart; Friends, kindred, days, Estate, good-fame, Plans, credit and the Muse,— Nothing refuse. ’T is a brave master; Let it have scope: Follow it utterly, Hope beyond hope: High and more high It dives into noon, With wing unspent, Untold intent: But it is a god, Knows its own path And the outlets of the sky. It was never for the mean; It requireth courage stout. Souls above doubt, Valor unbending, It will reward,— They shall return More than they were, And ever ascending. Leave all for love; Yet, hear me, yet, One word more thy heart behoved, One pulse more of firm endeavor,— Keep thee to-day, To-morrow, forever, Free as an Arab Of thy beloved. Cling with life to the maid; But when the surprise, First vague shadow of surmise Flits across her bosom young, Of a joy apart from thee, Free be she, fancy-free; Nor thou detain her vesture’s hem, Nor the palest rose she flung From her summer diadem. Though thou loved her as thyself, As a self of purer clay, Though her parting dims the day, Stealing grace from all alive; Heartily know, When half-gods go, The gods arrive.

Self-denial is common to the holy along with the unholy, the pure and the impure. The impure person denies all "better feelings;' all shame, even natural timidity, and follows only the desire that rules him. The pure person denies his natural relationship to the world ("denies the world") and follows only the "aspiration" that rules him. Driven by the thirst for money, the greedy person denies all warnings of the conscience, all feelings of honor, all gentleness and all compassion : he puts every consideration out of sight: the desire carries him away. The holy person desires in the same way. He makes himself the "laughing-stock of the world;' is hard-hearted and "strictly righteous"; because the aspiration carries him away. As the unholy person denies himself before Mammon, so the holy person denies himself before God and the divine laws. [...] The self-deniers must take the same path as holy people as they do as unholy people; and as the latter sink little by little to the fullest measure of self denying meanness and lowness, so the former must ascend to the most humiliating loftiness. The earthly Mammon and the heavenly God both demand exactly the same degree of-self-denial. The lowly, like the lofty, reach out for a "good;' the former for the material good, the latter for the ideal, the so-called "highest good"; and in the end, both also complete each other again, since the "materially minded" person sacrifices everything to an ideal specter, his vanity, and the "spiritually minded" person to a material enjoyment, good living.

Question: What is it, to walk with God? Answer: Walking with God imports five things: 1. Walking as under God's eye. Noah reverenced God. A godly man sets himself as in God's presence, knowing that his judge is looking on: "I have set the Lord always before me" (Psalm 16:8). David's eyes were here. 2. The familiarity and intimacy which the soul has with God. Friends walk together and console themselves with one another. The godly make known their requests to God and he makes known his love to them. There is a sweet fellowship between God and his people: "Our fellowship (koinonia) is with the Father, and with his Son Jesus Christ" (1 John 1:3). 3. Walking above the earth. A godly man is elevated above all sublunary objects. The person who walks with God must ascend very high. A dwarf cannot walk among the stars, nor can a dwarfish, earthly soul walk with God. 4. Visible piety. Walking is a visible posture. Grace must be conspicuous to the onlookers. He who reveals something of God in his behavior, walks with God. He shines forth in biblical conduct. 5. Continued progress in grace. It is not only a step but a walk. There is a going on towards maturity. A godly man does not sit down in the middle of the way but goes on until he comes to the "end of his faith" (1 Pet. 1:9). Though a good man may be out of the path, he is not out of the way. He may through infirmity step aside (as Peter did)—but he recovers by repentance and goes on in progressive holiness: "The righteous will hold to their ways, and those with clean hands will grow stronger" (Job 17:9).

The path of what was to come was awful. It was the enormous dying, a sea of blood. From it the new sun arose, awful and a reversal of that which we call day. We have seized the darkness and its sun will shine above us, bloody and burning like a great downfall. When I comprehended my darkness, a truly magnificent night came over me and my dream plunged me into the depths of the millennia, and from it my phoenix ascended. But what happened to my day? Torches were kindled, bloody anger and disputes erupted. As darkness seized the world, the terrible war arose and the darkness destroyed the light of the world, since it was incomprehensible to the darkness and good for nothing anymore. And so we had to taste Hell. I saw which vices the virtues of this time changed into, how your mildness became hard, your goodness became brutality; your love became hate, and your understanding became madness. Why did you want to comprehend the darkness! But you had to or else it would have seized you. Happy the man who anticipates this grasp. Did you ever think of the evil in you? Oh, you spoke of it, you mentioned it, and you confessed it smilingly; as a generally human vice, or a recurring misunderstanding. But did you know 1 what evil is, and that it stands precisely right behind your virtues, that it is also your virtues themselves, as their inevitable substance?7! You locked Satan in the abyss for a millennium, and when the millennium had passed, you laughed at him, since he had become a children's fairy tale.72 But if the dreadful great one raises his head, the world winces. The most extreme coldness draws near. With horror you see that you are defenseless, and that the army of your vices falls powerless to its knees. With the power of daimons, you seize the evil, and your virtues cross over to him. You are completely alone in this struggle, since your Gods have become deaf You do not know which devils are greater, your vices, or your virtues. But ofone thing you are certain, that virtues and vices are brothers. 73We need the coldness of death to see clearly. Life wants to live and to die, to begin and to end.74 You are not forced to live eternally; but you can also die, since there is a will in you for both. Life and death must strike a balance in your existence.75 Today's men need a large slice of death, since too much incorrectness lives in them, and too much correctness died in them. What stays in balance is correct, what disturbs balance is incorrect. But if balance has been attained, then that which preserves it is incorrect and that which disturbs it is correct. Balance is at once life and death. For the completion of life a balance with death is fitting. If I accept death, then my tree greens, since dying increases life. If I plunge into the death encompassing the world, then my buds break open. How much our life needs death!

By the authority of God Almighty, the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, and of the holy canons, and of the undefiled Virgin Mary, mother and patroness of our Saviour, and of all the celestial virtues, angels, archangels, thrones, dominions, powers, cherubins and seraphins, and of all the holy patriarchs, prophets, and of all the apostles and evangelists, and of the holy innocents, who in the sight of the Holy Lamb, are found worthy to sing the new song of the holy martyrs and holy confessors, and of the holy virgins, and of all the saints together, with the holy and elect of God, may he be damn'd. We excommunicate, and anathematize him, and from the thresholds of the holy church of God Almighty we sequester him, that he may be tormented, disposed, and delivered over with Dathan and Abiram, and with those who say unto the Lord God, Depart from us, we desire none of thy ways. And as fire is quenched with water, so let the light of him be put out for evermore, unless it shall repent him' and make satisfaction. Amen. May the Father who created man, curse him. May the Son who suffered for us curse him. May the Holy Ghost, who was given to us in baptism, curse him May the holy cross which Christ, for our salvation triumphing over his enemies, ascended, curse him. May the holy and eternal Virgin Mary, mother of God, curse him. May St. Michael, the advocate of holy souls, curse him. May all the angels and archangels, principalities and powers, and all the heavenly armies, curse him. [Our armies swore terribly in Flanders, cried my uncle Toby,---but nothing to this.---For my own part I could not have a heart to curse my dog so.] May St. John the Pre-cursor, and St. John the Baptist, and St. Peter and St. Paul, and St. Andrew, and all other Christ's apostles, together curse him. And may the rest of his disciples and four evangelists, who by their preaching converted the universal world, and may the holy and wonderful company of martyrs and confessors who by their holy works are found pleasing to God Almighty, curse him. May the holy choir of the holy virgins, who for the honor of Christ have despised the things of the world, damn him May all the saints, who from the beginning of the world to everlasting ages are found to be beloved of God, damn him May the heavens and earth, and all the holy things remaining therein, damn him. May he be damn'd wherever he be---whether in the house or the stables, the garden or the field, or the highway, or in the path, or in the wood, or in the water, or in the church. May he be cursed in living, in dying. May he be cursed in eating and drinking, in being hungry, in being thirsty, in fasting, in sleeping, in slumbering, in walking, in standing, in sitting, in lying, in working, in resting, in pissing, in shitting, and in blood-letting! May he be cursed in all the faculties of his body! May he be cursed inwardly and outwardly! May he be cursed in the hair of his head! May he be cursed in his brains, and in his vertex, in his temples, in his forehead, in his ears, in his eye-brows, in his cheeks, in his jaw-bones, in his nostrils, in his fore-teeth and grinders, in his lips, in his throat, in his shoulders, in his wrists, in his arms, in his hands, in his fingers! May he be damn'd in his mouth, in his breast, in his heart and purtenance, down to the very stomach! May he be cursed in his reins, and in his groin, in his thighs, in his genitals, and in his hips, and in his knees, his legs, and feet, and toe-nails! May he be cursed in all the joints and articulations of the members, from the top of his head to the sole of his foot! May there be no soundness in him! May the son of the living God, with all the glory of his Majesty and may heaven, with all the powers which move therein, rise up against him, curse and damn him, unless he repent and make satisfaction! Amen. I declare, quoth my uncle Toby, my heart would not let me curse the devil himself with so much bitterness!

A growing child is presented with one of two paths, survival or development. If a child is abused, neglected, abandoned, ignored, or made to assume adult responsibilities, she must focus her attention and energy on survival. Whatever relief she gets from insuring survival, she gets to use on development. If all her energy goes toward surviving, development will get short shrift. A child whose basic physical needs are met ascends to another level of needs. A baby who gets enough sleep, food, and diaper changing also needs to be held and spoken to. He needs the stimulation of colors and sounds. A toddler who gets enough food and rest also needs to move around, to explore in safety, and to be held. A young child who gets nutritious meals and sufficient rest and exercise also needs to ask a lot of questions, to take things apart, and to explore his own body. A ten-year-old child who is safe and sufficiently fed and clothed also needs mental stimulation, an appropriate level of responsibility, social activities, skill training, interpretation of complicated events, help being safely alone, conversation, communication, and listening.

Back in 1990, the futurist George Gilder demonstrated his prescience when he wrote in his book Microcosm, “The central event of the twentieth century is the overthrow of matter. In technology, economics, and the politics of nations, wealth in the form of physical resources is steadily declining in value and significance. The powers of mind are everywhere ascendant over the brute force of things.” Just over twenty years later, in 2011, the venture capitalist (and Netscape cofounder) Marc Andreessen validated Gilder’s thesis in his Wall Street Journal op-ed “Why Software Is Eating the World.” Andreessen pointed out that the world’s largest bookstore (Amazon), video provider (Netflix), recruiter (LinkedIn), and music companies (Apple/ Spotify/ Pandora) were software companies, and that even “old economy” stalwarts like Walmart and FedEx used software (rather than “things”) to drive their businesses. Despite—or perhaps because of—the growing dominance of bits, the power of software has also made it easier to scale up atom-based businesses as well. Amazon’s retail business is heavily based in atoms—just think of all those Amazon shipping boxes piled up in your recycling bin! Amazon originally outsourced its logistics to Ingram Book Company, but its heavy investment in inventory management systems and warehouses as it grew turned infrastructure

These descending sensory pathways originate in the cortex, and their influence can either inhibit or facilitate the sensory input from any area of the body, greatly amplify or suppress altogether any given sensation. Sensory activity within the central nervous system is a Janus head, a two-way stream; signals originating in the brain have just as much to do with conscious sensation as do actual stimulations of the peripheral nerve endings. In fact, it is the descending paths which determine the sensitivity of any particular ascending pathway. The wide varieties of sexual response—among different individuals and within the same individual at different times—provide us with a clear example of this centrifugal influence upon incoming sensations: Depending upon past experiences and the present situation, the same stimulation of the genitals can produce intense ecstasy, bland and neutral sensations, or extreme discomfort. Orgasm can be immediate, or deferred indefinitely. And the imagination alone can produce constant engorgement, utter impotence, and all the degrees of arousal in between. The descending paths can color all kinds of sensory input to this degree. These pathways allow the mind to determine the active threshold for different sensory signals, and make it possible to focus attention upon a single source of input in the midst of many. It is difficult to imagine what practical use our sensory apparatus would be to us without such a mechanism. We would have no way of selecting a voice from all the other sounds around us, of locating specific objects within the swirl of visual impressions, or of retiring from our senses for contemplation and sleep. This centrifugal principle of selectivity is as vital to our appropriate responses to the world as is stimulation itself.

Every doctrine contains its own inherent contradiction, with which it struggles. For this reason, doctrine is never the way to wisdom. Only when one recognizes that a thing constitutes a whole only when combined with its opposite is one on the path to wisdom. Nor can one ascend to a state of wisdom by one's own efforts. Rather, one is raised up to it (or abased, which amounts to the same thing), and if one becomes party to wisdom, one cannot count that as a personal success. Instead, it is a gift that one must prove oneself worthy of.

At times, you may find you are revisiting the same issue, lesson, or opportunity you experienced before. However, each time we come to the same crossroads, it is different. Life is not linear. I see it as an ascending spiral. Issues or challenges we face run vertically alongside the spiral. We move along the path of the spiral, and we will see reoccurring challenges and issues, but they really are different each time because we are different.

It is easy to become caught up in what is wrong in your world. Yes, there is much that needs changing. Yes, there is much suffering and cruelty and negativity present here still. Know that your inner state of being is mirrored by the world outside and around you. And so your ascension work is fundamental in shifting that which is in physical reality, which is on the lower-vibrational scale. And your work in consciousness prepares you for your high-vibration work as an ascended physical being, for meditating and self-release and prayer and preparation are essential but are not all-inclusive for those spiritual beings who walk the ascension path in physical form. Action in a physical sense is required, indeed. But through your meditation and preparation you are able to know your course of action and you are able to remain in love while engaging and changing the harsh or negative aspects present within physical reality. Remember that your choice makes all the difference ‒ your choice in every moment, the grand choice, the ultimate choice.

If you're struggling uphill; carrying your heavy load; fighting to stay afloat or battling your demons, know that you are definitely on the right path, and ascending to the place where you will one day embody the legend you seek to become.

In the end, Vasile knew he couldn’t take any other path. He knew he needed a purpose to his life, one that justified all the hardships he’d endured in the past. Redemption was a strong motive. His talent had propelled him to great heights only to cause him to be cast down. He couldn’t dispose of it. It was part of him. It made him who he was. He too craved salvation.

Blessed are the poor, for theirs is the kingdom of God (Luke 6:20). I'm learning what it means to descend, which is so revolutionary it often leaves me gasping. I have been trying to ascend my entire life. Up, up, next level, a notch higher, the top is better, top of the food chain, all for God's work and glory, of course. The pursuit of ascension is crippling and has stunted my faith more than any other evil I've battled. It has saddled me with so much to defend, and it doesn't deliver. I need more and more of what doesn't work. I'm insatiable, and ironically, the more I accumulate, the less I enjoy any of it. Instead of satisfaction, it produces toxic fear in me; I'm always one slip away from losing it all. Consequently, my love for others is tainted because they unwittingly become articles for consumption. How is this person making me feel better? How is she making me stronger? How is he contributing to my agenda? What can this group do for me? I am an addict, addicted to the ascent and thus positioning myself above people who can propel my upward momentum and below those who are also longing for a higher rank and might pull me up with them. It feels desperate and frantic, and I'm so done being enslaved to the elusive top rung. When Jesus told us to 'take the lowest place' (Luke 14:10), it was more than just a strategy for social justice. It was even more than wooing us to the bottom for communion, since that is where He is always found. The path of descent becomes our own liberation. We are freed from the exhausting stance of defense. We are no longer compelled to be right and are thus relieved from the burden of maintaining some reputation. We are released from the idols of greed, control, and status. The pressure to protect the house of cards is alleviated when we take the lowest place. The ascent is so ingrained in my thought patterns that it has been physically painful to experience reformation at the bottom. The compulsion to defend myself against misrepresentation nearly put me in the grave recently. I was tormented with chaotic inner dialogues, and there were days I was so plagued with protecting my rung that I couldn't get out of bed. With every step lower, the stripping-away process was more excruciating. I had no idea how tightly I clung to reputation and approval or how selfishly I behaved to maintain it. Getting to the top requires someone else to be on the bottom; being right means someone else must be wrong. It is the nature of the beast.

Till now the evening had been calm, but suddenly the forest grew restless. As I ascended the path out of the river bottom, I could hear branches tossing overhead, and leaves thrashing. When I emerged into fields a brisk breeze pressed my cheek. Ragged herds of dragon-clouds galloped past the moon. I reached the narrow blacktopped road that ran between the inn and Mortestow. Suddenly a compulsion came upon me, despite the wildness of the night, to continue up on to the cliffs.

A brief examination of the gray bluff revealed a narrow cleft leading to the top of the precipice. Joe, ascending first, found himself on another path which seemed to rim the island from the top of the bluffs. “Here’s the trail the hermit used to keep us in sight yesterday,” he told the others. After scrambling up, Frank, Tony, and Jerry paused for a look about. Below them sparkled the bright ocean, extending to the mainland a few miles away. Behind lay a little plateau, overgrown with small pines and scrub oaks. In the center of the flat area rose a steep, rocky hill which gave the island its humping silhouette. “A hut would be easy to camouflage among those trees,” Frank remarked. “We’ll have to spread out and comb every foot of the woods.” Though the youths worked carefully around the plateau, they found no sign of any shelter. On the island’s seaward side, where the growth was sparse, the boys checked the sides of the steep hill for caves. They saw none.

The manner of this is the following: When the soul becomes assured, gains mastery over the two attributes of passion and anger, and experiences the taste of the summons “return,”²⁶ it will cause passion and anger to turn away from the lower to the higher world, so that the object of their desire will be nearness to God Almighty, not the pleasures of the animal and bestial world. When passion desires to ascend, it becomes all love and affection; and when anger strives upward, it be- comes all zeal and high aspiration. The soul turns to the Divine Presence with love and affection, and in its zeal and high aspiration refuses to stop at any station or to pay attention to aught but the Almighty Presence. These two instruments, passion and anger, thus become the most complete means for the spirit’s union with the Presence.

We travel through many wildernesses in life, be they real like Jacob’s Bethel, or wildernesses of the soul. Broken dreams, loss, grief. Sometimes there is nothing to comfort us but the hard stones of a lonely path. In those places, God seems so far away and distant. The way He does to Naomi right now. Yet, there is a ladder that touches down into the soil of our loneliest wilderness. The angels of the Lord ascend and descend upon it, and He is Himself watchful to give us aid.

...in all asanas, ascend to descend and descend to ascend.

You know a lot, Ash. You’ve outlived everyone who remembers your time... You even defeated the mage who could turn illusions into reality... You are the strongest and the oldest of the Immortals… You could easily become a god and ascend to the Seventh Heaven if you wanted to, but... you still live in the mortal world. Why?” The wizard shrugged, “I like it when the stars are above my head, not under my feet. Besides, mortal girls are more compliant than goddesses.” “Come on! That’s no excuse! You managed to get with the Goddess of Love, and her daughter…. at the same time!” “In my defense, I didn’t know they were related.

If I’m working to ascend anything—a steep piece of trail, my own personal or spiritual growth, or an ambitious goal—I’ve learned not to keep looking up. It would only remind me what a daunting task I have in front of me. It would only help me be daunted. I found a way that works much better for me. Here’s what I learned to do, and it helped. A lot. I focused on the step I was taking. The current one. The now step. I did that over and over. And over. And over. And over. Until I’d taken many more steps than I thought I had in me. Then I turned around and looked back down the trail. Wow, I thought. Wow! I’ve come a long way.

The cultivation world did not care about wedding attendants, and would not have the female cultivator wear a veil. Supposedly, a thousand years ago, a male cultivator from the mortal world wanted the female cultivator he was marrying to wear a veil. The female cultivator then beat him up. After the beating, the female cultivator said, what bad habit was this? Other men could not look at a woman’s face at the wedding banquet but a man’s face could be seen by other women? Their path union ceremony was cancelled because of this. The male cultivator’s tragic and true experience helped speed up the equality between genders in the cultivation world. At least, not many male cultivators dared to have female cultivators do things that they themselves were not willing to do.

After that, he never saw Spirit Master Kong Hou and her path companion again. Maybe the two had ascended, or maybe the two were still roaming the world. But no matter where the pair was, Yan Shou thought, as long as the two were together, they were happier than the immortals. People cultivated their minds, their bodies, and their own path. What was the path? Just a path to happiness.

15. From this poisoned source of indifferentism flows that false and absurd, or rather extravagant, maxim that liberty of conscience should be established and guaranteed to each man - a most contagious error, to which leads that absolute and unbridled liberty of opinion which for the ruin of Church and State spreads over the world, and which some men, by unbridled impudence, fear not to represent and advantageous to the Church. "And what more certain death for souls," says Saint Augustine, "than the liberty of error!" On beholding them thus, indeed, take away from men every rein able to restrain them in the paths of truth, hurried us they already to ruin by a nature inclined to evil, we may say in truth that there yawns that pit of the abyss, from which Saint John beheld ascending a smoke that obscured the sun, and locusts to lay waste the earth. Thence, in fact, the instability of minds; thence, the ever increasing corruption of the young; thence, in the people, the contempt of sacred rights and holiest laws and things; thence, in a word, the saddest scourge that can ravage States, since experiences attests, and the remotest antiquity teaches, that cities powerful in wealth, dominion, and glory perished by this sole evil - the unbridled liberty of opinions, the license of public discourse, the passion for changes.

To ascend to the pinnacle of wisdom, you must first recognize and shed the burden of your ignorance. Knowledge is the flame that illuminates your path. ~ Peter Ojo

Overall, when an aspirant on the spiritual path, reaches a level of consciousness where he or she no longer is blinded by the circumstances of this third dimensional world, but in control, he or she ascends to higher levels of awareness while keeping their physical form. They could continue ascending to finer realities of light or stay behind in a higher octave on the earth plane to help guide and direct the spiritual evolution of the rest of humanity

And everyone in Quon Tali knew Malaz Island was nothing more than a pirates’ nest;

What killed them?’ The youth shook his head again. ‘Oh, no. Most of them are still alive.’ He pointed to the grounds. ‘They lie imprisoned below. The structure is holding them there – perhaps using their might to defend itself.

For if the Azathani were regarded as strange and alien by the humans they now walked among, the Azath structures constituted an order far beyond even them.

whisper came to her then. A story she’d heard long ago from a fellow Azathani. That Edgewalker had tired of his guardianship and had been searching for a worthy inheritor all this time.

And infuriating as Kellanved was, he had to grudgingly admit, with some surprise, that he was the best friend he had ever had. Perhaps the only, barring Illara.

You are standing for admiral of Malaz, are you?’ Kellanved inclined his head. ‘I am.

Two figures dressed in dark walk an empty street at night. Ice crystals of sleet swirl about them. One is short, his walk a side to side duck-like waddle, the other tall and slim, his walk smooth and gliding, utterly silent. The short one taps a walking stick as he goes; the other holds his arms hidden within his cloak.

Emurlahn is broken, shattered. Perhaps one may think of it as a repository of all the shadows of everything past and future, now spilling over and jumbled.

It struck Dancer that Shadow seemed nothing more than a gigantic mausoleum or trash heap of time and history. As if all the moments hidden by time in the world he’d left behind were all naked here, exposed and visible.

Geffen waved him down, as if he wasn’t worth his time. ‘I’m taking it, arsehole.’ He marched off. Cowl watched him go, murmuring, ‘I’m not talking about the Hold, fool.’ Lee hesitated. ‘The house, you mean … you gonna try to enter it?’ The mage’s gaze remained aside, following Geffen. ‘Someone will, and soon. It’s in the air.

Footsteps in the Sand I’m journeying the path of Truth Not knowing where it leads Walking with my head bowed And counting prayers with beads . On a course, well worn by time From the first man to the last, I’m wearied by the distance And wearied by the fast . I paid the toll of charity To walk down wisdom’s way But will I have the discipline To stay the course today . Fleeing a field of falsehood Holding Proverbs for my flight I sacrificed illusion On an altar made of Light . Will I find the Philosopher’s Stone, The Ark or the Holy Grail, Or stumble upon a desolate place, Of brimstone, fire and hail . Are Ancient Mysteries up ahead To heal the blind, the sick, the lame A Phoenix in the ashes Or a tempest I must tame . Maybe i’ll walk on water, Turn base metal into gold Maybe i’ll write the future And watch it all unfold . I drink the waters of Elijah Pool On the Father’s reality Hoping to ascend like Enoch, The bonds of mortality . I’m walking towards the Light of Truth With God holding my right hand Following the path of Prophets Who left Footsteps in the Sand

In occult terms, a man’s path was viewed as a spiritual road, leading ever upward. Manifest destiny of the rational soul: he ascended. But woman? A lesser species, primitive and bound to the savage earth by umbilical cycles, her road spiraled downward, and any man who strayed onto her path might become lost. It was her function after all – the function of her debased and debasing nature – to tempt him away from salvation. The girl can’t help it. Here, have an apple.

He turned to the startled king, still kneeling on the floor stunned. He threw the sword clanging onto the floor by Saul. “That is what you should have done.” Saul was speechless. Samuel said, “I am going to Ramah. Our paths shall never cross again — this side of Sheol.” Samuel left.

MARCH 19 YOU WILL COMMAND MOUNTAINS TO BE REMOVED IF YOU HAVE faith in My power at work in your life, you will be able to command any mountain that rises up against Me or My power in you to fall into the sea. Stand firm in your faith, for many will say in their hearts that they want to ascend to heaven. They will try to establish their throne above the tops of the clouds so that they may be like the Most High. But with My power at work in you, you will bring them down to the depths of the pit. In the last days the mountain of My holy temple will be established as chief among the mountains; it will be raised above the hills, and all nations will stream to it. Many peoples will come and say, “Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord. He will teach us His ways, so that we may walk in His paths.” PSALM 65; MATTHEW 21:21–22 Prayer Declaration I speak to every mountain in my life and command it to be removed and cast into the sea. I speak to every financial mountain to be removed from my life in Jesus’s name. Let every evil mountain hear the voice of the Lord and be removed. Let the mountains tremble at the presence of God. Lord, You are against every destroying mountain. Make waste the evil mountains in my life, O Lord.

What makes the Wesak celebration so unique is that you get to experience the direct intervention of hundreds of inner plane Ascended masters as well as the overlighting presence of over a million ascended masters, archangels, angels, Christed Extraterrestrials, and Elohim masters. The same goes for the people attending the event, for they come from all over the world and from every religion, spiritual path, spiritual teacher, and guru.

The Negative Ego, caught in the delusion of needing to feel superior or inferior, will tell you that you mastered this material in the “Spring of ’72.” Alternatively, it will tell you that you can’t allow yourself to admit a mistake, for that makes you inferior which, of course, is delusion also. The Negative Ego will also tell you that it is more interested in other celestial and esoteric matters dealing with the Ascended Masters and such a book is not necessary for you to read. I am here to tell you myself and on behalf of the inner plane Ascended Masters of the Spiritual Hierarchy, that there is no subject on planet Earth in dealing with your spiritual life more important than this. The transcendence of Negative Ego is the core foundation of Ascension and all spiritual development no matter what spiritual path you are on.

One of the most important Spiritual practices of the Spiritual Path is prayer. I am actually amazed at how many lightworkers forget to do this! Not only do they forget to take advantage of the incredible love/wisdom/power of GOD, they also do not ask for help from Christ and the Holy Spirit! They don’t ask for help from their own Mighty I Am Presence and their own Higher Self! They don’t ask for help from the Archangels and Angels! They don’t ask for help from the inner plane Ascended Masters and the Saints and Sages of all religions! They don’t ask for help from the 14 Mighty Elohim and/or Elohim Councils, also known as the Creator Gods! They don’t ask for help from the Christed Extraterrestrials such as the Arcturians and Ashtar Command, to name just a few!

I would compare myself to a mountain climber who, not knowing the way, ascends slowly and toilsomely and is often compelled to retrace his steps because his progress is blocked; who, sometimes by reasoning and sometimes by accident, hits upon signs of a fresh path, which leads him a little farther; and who finally, when he has reached his goal, discovers to his annoyance a royal road on which he might have ridden up if he had been clever enough to find the right starting point at the beginning. In my papers and memoirs I have not, of course, given the reader an account of my wanderings, but have only described the beaten path along which one may reach the summit without trouble.

is a marker on the road to greener pastures, a path chiseled against the steep sides of the mount of God. We dare not try to by-pass it if we would follow on in this holy pursuit. We must ascend a step at a time. If we refuse one step we bring our progress to an end.