Silence reigned in the dark hall, or rather, not complete silence, for a very soft, deep, delicate murmur filled the air, light as a breath. Half-light prevailed, the distance melted into the darkness, and only a few figures could be clearly made out. I sat cross-legged with gloom all around me, and the few I could see more clearly were likewise sitting on the ground, crouched and yet majestic. Old men, grand masters of mysticism, who come together perhaps once a century, if that, to turn over and weigh the affairs of the world. Their caps and robes are long, their wisdom profound, their silence grave and majestic. How did I come to be here? It was as if they were waiting for something, and suddenly tiny lights splintered the gloom this way and that. Balls of light, tiny pearls of light, lay before the venerable old men. Silent and expectant, they gazed into the universe, though it might just as well have seemed that they were staring into nothingness. I saw nothingness, the gloom, but what did they see? Who but they could tell of it? Yet they were wordless, and sat in dignified stillness. Only the pearls of light glowed before them, tiny living sparks dancing a quivering dance. Now and then they dimmed, at other times they sparkled, as if one were scattering powdered resin on the embers. The old men spoke not a word, and then they rolled a few balls of light before me.
At last the bolt on the darkness shot back, and warm light spilled across the faces. I could see the old men better, and one of them in particular caught my attention. His hair was long and braided at the back, his cap and mantle not showy, yet imposing. Warmth flowed from his gaze, he turned slowly towards me, and without uttering a word he began to speak, and I understood what he said.
‘The time has come for you to set out on your way! I shall furnish you with a few important provisions for the road; listen well! Now you receive knowledge, and it will prove useful to you yet. Self-confidence you have already; in time, dip your self-assurance in the water of humility, and it will be a still more lasting support to you. Knowledge, however, also brings responsibility. We give it to you that you may serve the cause of good. When the trials come, you can no longer leaf through the books; then you must sit your examination. Then it will show what you have drunk in, what has been engraved upon your heart. So take care that your heart stays pure to the end. A good mind and a good heart lead surely to the goal!’
I knew what had long been said, that the good Lord writes a message for life into everyone’s heart. Now it was as if a breath of its wind had brushed against me. Could this be that very message? I listened avidly to the old man who spoke without words, and his counsels were not only engraved on my mind but pervaded the depths of my being. My heart was pounding, every nerve strained taut, and the force of the message all but shook me. I wondered, had I chosen this message, or had the message chosen me? It seemed the latter was true…
‘Two requirements, however, you yourself must fulfil: gird yourself with divine devotion, for it helps you over every obstacle. Should you fall into a trap, devotion gives you wings, and you can escape. If you are full of base qualities, devotion turns them into jewels. If failures befall you and you should lose heart altogether, devotion will release your hidden inner forces, the secret outer forces will resonate with them too, and you will be able to conquer yourself.
The other requirement is harder: beware of the mire, arm yourself with chaste innocence! Moral purity grants inner strength and blamelessness, and all deceit glances off its armour. Bestow your feelings in the noblest place and manner; adoration is the privilege of Beauty and Love!’
– But how? I know nothing of such things! – I cried, but in vain. The scene was fading, I felt I was being left alone, and the wise were already vanishing one by one into the thickening gloom. At the last the old man looked at me once more, and though he said nothing at all, as if a mesmeric current had struck me, something ran through me: ‘Do not worry, providence will always be with you. It will show you which way to go, how to act and what to accomplish! The teaching is yours, but it is you who must live it.’
Then I, a small man, was left there alone, the old men withdrew into the deep darkness, the pearls of light danced on in their places for a few moments more, then their light burned down to ash and their dance withered away…
It may be that today we still play like small children with the pearls of light rolled before us. The light goes out in our hands, the ball rolls away, and in our disappointment we burst into tears. But the wise, summoning all their strength, gaze upon the child, in the hope that the light of their eyes may pass on their knowledge and their will as well. And by the time the child has grown up, in the course of a life broken by a multitude of births and deaths, he too steps into the gloom-shrouded circle of the wise, and looks with hope upon one or another of the generation to come, who still plays, weeping, with the pearls of light rolled before him.