An aus­pi­cious peri­od – the time of ascent. Past the low­est point, past the stand­still. But there are two ways we can determ­ine exactly what the aus­pi­cious peri­od is: by the path of the Sun and by spir­itu­al strength.

Hav­ing lingered at the Trop­ic of Capri­corn, the Sun at last sets out north­wards after the winter sol­stice. In winter it runs its flat­test course across the sky, it stands at its south­ern­most point, it does not even climb above our heads, and even at noon it scat­ters its rays almost from the side, if it is able to pierce the fog and gloom. But after the turn­ing point the angle of the Sun's course begins to rise, the star sets out towards the North, and head­ing North sig­ni­fies the search for per­fec­tion. The light is born anew, and the Sun set­ting out north­wards marks the begin­ning of the aus­pi­cious half-year, which lasts until our star arrives at its highest north­ern reach, the Trop­ic of Can­cer. Oth­ers hold that the spring equi­nox is the begin­ning of the aus­pi­cious peri­od, but whichever way one thinks of it, from spring to mid­sum­mer the peri­od is quite cer­tainly aus­pi­cious, even by the reck­on­ing of the cal­en­dar.

The other way to reck­on aus­pi­cious time is by meas­ur­ing spir­itu­al strength. The begin­ning of the year counts as aus­pi­cious, aus­pi­cious too are the begin­ning of the week and the sun­rise, but in the right state of con­scious­ness every moment is aus­pi­cious. So week­days turn into feast days, grey into sil­ver, cloud into sun­shine. Then what are we wait­ing for? For cal­en­dar time to inch its way onward, or for con­scious­ness to rise, so that bright­ness too may grow along with it?

It is not only the course of the Sun that makes a moment aus­pi­cious, but also the mani­fest­a­tion of divine power, the des­cent of an avatar, or the birth of a great saint. Moments dis­tin­guished by astro­nom­ic­al or spir­itu­al anniversar­ies are aus­pi­cious.

At this time many await the com­ing of the Saviour, that the Prince of Light may tri­umph over dark­ness. But who is the prince of light, what is his nature? As long as we can­not decide wheth­er light is cor­pus­cu­lar mat­ter or rather a fluid energy-stream, how could we answer? The prince of light is the spark, his power is bright­ness… the two are insep­ar­able. Recog­ni­tion of this hal­lows a peri­od that is already dis­tin­guished, and it hal­lows man as well. For the soul is a spark of the ori­gin­al bright­ness, and in truth every man, every being is a little prince of light. If we are wait­ing for any­thing, it is for the recog­ni­tion of this. For through ignor­ance the bright­ness may be over­cast, and wicked­ness can cover the ori­gin­al radi­ance, but it can­not extin­guish it. Memini – I remem­ber. Noth­ing else is needed but remem­brance, the reviv­ing of the ori­gin­al prim­al state.

Wait­ing: for the Sun to roll fur­ther along its course and climb up out of the low­est point; for order to arise once more out of chaos; for the soul to grow bright and escape the dark­ness, for con­scious­ness to open and be freed from ignor­ance.

And since space is noth­ing but pet­ri­fied time, space too must become aus­pi­cious. Space and time are hal­lowed, little by little a subtle inner change begins, you grow more sens­it­ive to pure truths, slowly you are freed from the slavery of licence, and what is more, instead of the bond of arbit­rary rules it is now the spir­it of ever-valid laws that gives you life. You are not run­ning an outer course, which would be easy to com­plete, but set­ting out on an invis­ible inner jour­ney. You wait for that trans­form­a­tion, del­ic­ate as a breath, which does not change your out­ward self but revives your innate light-nature. At enlight­en­ment the tip of the heart begins to glow, and through the gate thus lit the soul rises by the hun­dred and first chan­nel, and when it steps out of its body, it climbs upwards on the rays of the Sun or on the wings of its med­it­a­tion and reaches the Sun, for that is the gate of the world – an entrance for the sage, a closed door to the ignor­ant.