This excerpt is from a dictation by El Morya published in the 1965 Pearl of Wisdom Vol. 8 No. 28.

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To know oneself is not always to probe the depths of subconscious memory but to scale the summit of identification with immortality. To preserve one’s shadows is not necessary when facing the light. Leave them behind; for while they lengthen as the sun goes down, they diminish each hour from the rising. Remember the zenith, for then the light of the Presence stands directly overhead. It is the Sun of man’s being, that luminous orb wherein the precious treasures of heaven are deposited, that releases the correct vibratory action into the world of men.

At times even the myopic ones make the best travelers along the perilous pathway. When they arrive upon the mountaintop to encamp, they sometimes do so with discontentment of spirit. Such as these enjoy the climb and the pursuit of virtue more than they do the finding thereof. Men of normal vision are fortunate, for their perspective is blessed with balance. The spinning wheel of life has turned out the nubbed threads*, and the garment cannot be of greater refinement than the thread. When the thread of consciousness is refined, the clean linen can be woven upon the loom.

The wise see our abode as one of Spirit and, in fearlessness, they save their own lives. The worthy masons see in the placing of each brick the shining of celestial spires, raised stone upon stone. Perfidy yawns like a pinching chasm to break the bones; it is the chinks in men’s armor that must be guarded. The whirling follies of others seem as nebbishes** of ridicule to some, while their own creations pass unnoticed. How shall we scale Olympian heights with the spirit of injustice? The herdsman extended a rough arm, clad with homespun cloth, and it was rejected by the climber, who fell upon the rocks of pride.

The shining of the pure in heart
Is like a light upon the hill—
It illumines the earth with good will,
It is fragrant like the pine upon the hill,
Whose solitary vigil
Through the lonely hours of each night,
Drinks in the mellow tenderness of each day’s sun,
And calmly awaits the blowing away
Of the covering clouds.

Let us journey on!

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*nubbed thread is a rough thread that causes variations in the feel of a fabric, versus a smooth thread.
**From the Yiddish word “nebech,” colloquially used for an ineffectual, timid, unlucky or hapless person.