Excerpt taken from the book Views From The Real World : Early Talks, Part V 'The Two Rivers':
It will be useful if we compare human life in general to a large river which arises from various sources and flows into two separate streams, that is to say, there occurs in this river a dividing of the waters, and we can compare the life of any one man to one of the drops of water composing this river of life.
On account of the unbecoming life of people, it was established for the purposes of the common actualizing of everything existing that, in general, human life on the Earth should flow in two streams. Great Nature foresaw and gradually fixed in the common presence of humanity a correspond- ing property, so that, before the dividing of the waters, in each drop that has this corresponding inner subjective "struggle with one's own denying part," there might arise that "some- thing," thanks to which certain properties are acquired which give the possibility, at the place of the branching of the waters of life, of entering one or the other stream.
Thus there are two directions in the life of humanity: active and passive. Laws are the same everywhere. These two laws, these two currents, continually meet, now crossing each other, now running parallel. But they never mix; they support each other, they are indispensable for each other. It was always so and so it will remain. Now, the life of all ordinary men taken together can be thought of as one of these rivers in which each life, whether of a man or of any other living being, is represented by a drop in the river, and the river in itself is a link in the cosmic chain.
In accordance with general cosmic laws, the river flows in a fixed direction. All its turns, all its bends, all these changes have a definite purpose. In this purpose every drop plays a part insofar as it is part of the river, but the law of the river as a whole does not extend to the individual drops. The changes of position, movement and direction of the drops are completely accidental. At one moment a drop is here; the next mo- ment it is there; now it is on the surface, now it has gone to the bottom. Accidentally it rises, accidentally it collides with another and descends; now it moves quickly, now slowly. Whether its life is easy or difficult depends on where it happens to be. There is no individual law for it, no personal fate. Only the whole river has a fate, which is common to all the drops. Personal sorrow and joy, happiness and suffering—in that current, all these are accidental.
But the drop has, in principle, a possibility of escaping from this general current and jumping across to the other, the neighboring, stream.
This too is a law of Nature. But, for this, the drop must know how to make use of accidental shocks, and of the momentum of the whole river, so as to come to the surface and be closer to the bank at those places where it is easier to jump across. It must choose not only the right place but also the right time, to make use of winds, currents and storms. Then the drop has a chance to rise with the spray and jump across into the other river.
From the moment it gets into the other river, the drop is in a different world, in a different life, and therefore is under dif- ferent laws. In this second river a law exists for individual drops, the law of alternating progression. A drop comes to the top or goes to the bottom, this time not by accident but by law. On coming to the surface, the drop gradually becomes heavier and sinks; deep down it loses weight and rises again.
To float on the surface is good for it—to be deep down is bad. Much depends here on skill and on effort. In this second river there are different currents and it is necessary to get into the required current. The drop must float on the surface as long as possible in order to prepare itself, to earn the possibility of passing into another current, and so on.
But we are in the first river. As long as we are in this passive current it will carry us wherever it may; as long as we are passive we shall be pushed about and be at the mercy of every accident. We are the slaves of these accidents.
At the same time Nature has given us the possibility of escaping from this slavery. Therefore when we talk about freedom we are talking precisely about crossing over into the other river.
But of course it is not so simple—you cannot cross over merely because you wish. Strong desire and long preparation are necessary. You will have to live through being identified with all the attractions in the first river. You must die to this river. All religions speak about this death: "Unless you die, you cannot be bom again."
This does not mean physical death. From that death there is no necessity to rise again because if there is a soul, and it is immortal, it can get along without the body, the loss of which we call death. And the reason for rising again is not in order to appear before the Lord God on the day of judgment as the fathers of the Church teach us. No, Christ and all the others spoke of the death which can take place in life, the death of the tyrant from whom our slavery comes, that death which is a necessary condition of the first and principal liberation of man.
If a man were deprived of his illusions and all that prevents him from seeing reality—if he were deprived of his interests, his cares, his expectations and hopes—all his strivings would collapse, everything would become empty and there would re- main an empty being, an empty body, only physiologically alive. This would be the death of "I," the death of everything it consisted of, the destruction of everything false collected
through ignorance or inexperience. All this will remain in him merely as material, but subject to selection. Then a man will be able to choose for himself and not have imposed on him what others like. He will have conscious choice.
[…] Now, as to the question. I can put it this way. Suppose you find a teacher with real knowledge who wishes to help you, and you wish to learn: even so, he cannot help you. He can only do so when you wish in the right way. This must be your aim; but this aim is also too far off, it is necessary to find what will bring you to it or at least bring you nearer to it. The aim must be divided. So, we must have as our aim the capacity to wish, and this can only be attained by a man who realizes his nothingness. We must revalue our values, and this must be based on need. Man cannot do this revaluation by himself alone.
I can advise you, but I cannot help you; nor can the Institute help you. It can only help you when you are on the Way —but you are not there.
First you must decide: is the Way necessary for you or not? How are you to begin to find this out? If you are serious, you must change your point of view, you must think in a new way, you must find your possible aim. This you cannot do alone, you must call on a friend who can help you—everyone can help—but especially two friends can help each other to revalue their values.
It is very difficult to be sincere all at once, but, if you try, you will improve gradually. When you can be sincere, I can show you, or help you to see, the things you are afraid of, and you will find what is necessary and useful for yourself. These values really can change. Your mind can change every day, but your essence stays as it is.
But there is a risk. Even this preparation of the mind gives results. Occasionally a man may feel with his essence some- thing which is very bad for him, or at least for his peace of mind. He has already tasted something and, though he forgets, it may return. If it is very strong, your associations will keep reminding you of it and, if it is intense, you will be half in one place and half in another, and you will never be quite comfortable. This is good only if a man has a real possibility of change, and the chance of changing. People can be very un- happy, neither fish nor flesh nor herring. It is a serious risk. Before you think of changing your seat you would be wise to consider very carefully and take a good look at both kinds of chairs. Happy is the man who sits in his ordinary chair. A thousand times happier is the man who sits in the chair of the angels, but miserable is the man who has no chair. You must decide—is it worthwhile? Examine the chairs, revalue your values.
The first aim is to forget all about everything else, talk to your friend, study and examine the chairs. But I warn you, when you start looking you will find much that is bad in your present chair. Next time, if you have made up your mind what you are going to decide about your life, I can talk differently on this subject. Try to see yourself, for you do not know yourself. You must realize this risk; the man who tries to see himself can be very unhappy, for he will see much that is bad, much that he will wish to change—and that change is very difficult. It is easy to start, but, once you have given up your chair, it is very difficult to get another, and it may cause great unhappiness. Everyone knows the gnawings of remorse. Now your conscience is relative, but when you change your values you will have to stop lying to yourself. When you have seen one thing, it is much easier to see another, and it is more difficult to shut your eyes. You must either stop looking or be willing to take risks.
