THE BUILDING OF THE SOUL

At the present time, we use the two words soul and spirit as though they meant the same thing. This is not correct. “The soul that sinneth it shall die” (Ezekiel 18:4). Spirit does not die.

In occult philosophy, spirit is that ever existing essence which is the immortal part of all created things in any of the seven worlds that manifest as a cosmic scheme. Spirit is indestructible, uncreated, and the germ of divinity in all manifesting creations; it is the God in us, the eternal permanence, the triple spirit of being.

Soul is the garment of spirit; the fruitage or essence of all the experience gained by manifestation in the concrete worlds of mind stuff, astral material, and physical substance. In a spiritual sense man can only be clothed in his virtues. Hence the attainment of this golden garment of the soul is the real reason for life. Incident is valueless save for the impression that it leaves upon the nature of the one passing through it. By an occult process, this impression is molded into the soul body as another thread in the seamless robe of the spiritual Bridegroom. In Nature, nothing is lost, and this vehicle, created by the assimilation of experience since the time, millions of years ago, when the consciousness was first differentiated, is called the soul—the molder of destiny—the mentor that must be consulted when important decisions are to be made. The soul measures man’s standard of right and wrong in the scale of things known. It is the basis of judgment and the inspiration behind the voice of conscience. Therefore, we ask with the seer of old, “What shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world and lose his own soul?”

Upon the soul are etched all the various actions and reactions that make up life. Therefore the soul is essentially dual in its nature—that which registers successes and that which registers failures. The things which we have done well become our guardian angels, guiding and inspiring us to further achievement, while those things wherein we have sinned become our menacing accusers, ever confronting us with the responsibility for our own mistakes.

At the doors of the Eastern temples stand two dogs one laughing and the other leering. They represent our own virtues and vices which we all must pass when we seek to enter the path that leads to perfection. These two qualities—the good and the evil within ourselves—are ever with us. One points to heaven, and the other ever stands as the great problem. The beast is still part of our nature, and will remain so until we transmute the strength of the adversary into the inspiration to greater victories over self.

This adversary within, this accumulation of unpaid karma, this body of sin, this ever present obstacle, this spirit of negation, this ever menacing figure of the evil in our own natures, was called by the ancients the dweller on the threshold.