PepperFritz said:But as both the C's and the Ra material have explained, one can transition to 4th density via the STS path as well. However, the Ra material suggests that it is far more difficult and rare, as it requires "greater dedication". As I recall, they said that one had to be at least 51% STO-oriented to transition via the STO path, but 95% STS-oriented to transition via the STS path.
Yeah, a lot of people think of spirituality in terms of going only in one direction but I think it’s more like an emotional path we take reinforced by the choices we make. One can move spiritually inwardly (service to self) or outwardly (service to others). Illion spoke of two kinds of spirituality in his book ‘Darkness over Tibet.’
From http://www.cassiopaea.org/cass/tibet2.htm
Back to Illion: he doesn't like the number nine either, and probably for the same, or similar, reasons that I never cared for it. It is the number of the Ennead, the Nine Gods of Egypt, and the product of 666. He gets into a discussion about numerology with Narbu and his ideas are truly interesting in light of the C's material, so I beg the reader's indulgence once more while I share them. Illion tells Narbu:
"I think man ought not to carry numerological speculations beyond the figure five."
"Why that?" asks Narbu.
"Five is the number of man. The higher number lead to complication and perdition, the smaller ones to God."
"But surely the number nine exists!" exclaims Narbu.
"It does, because the conventional system of counting runs up to nine, and then ten quite arbitrarily becomes the higher unit. We could just as well adopt a system in which we should have only four figures, namely one, two, three, four, five being equivalent to the higher unit. Then nine would not exist, nor would six, seven and eight, which in my opinion - arithmosophically - are all numbers of complication, entanglement, and seduction."
"What an original idea!" exclaimed Narbu. "I have studied numerology for several years. Its occult bearing is enormous. Figures have an occult connection with abstract notions with which we co-relate them. In this way figures can be made a kind of medium between the Divine and man."
"Numerology is a highly double-edged affair although it looks quite harmless," observed Illion.
"Suppose we get down to concrete numerological notions, " said Narbu. "Take one: one is the number of oneness - the number of non-manifested Divinity. I think you must agree to this."
"Yes," said Illion, "I do. If we imagine a point in space, it is a mere abstraction, for a point really is immaterial. So one is the number of undivided abstract existence."
"I am surprised that you introduce geometrical notions into the field of numerology. It is a very original idea, "observed Narbu. "Now let us take the figure two. It represents the contrast between spirit and matter."
"I profoundly disagree with you here," said Illion.
"Do you deny that two is the number of contrasts?" asked Narbu, greatly surprised.
"I agree that two is the number of contrasts," Illion answered, "but not the contrast you have just mentioned. If we take two points in space, they determine the position of a straight line, which also is immaterial. But it remains to be seen what abstract contrast is reflected by the figure two. You say it is one between spirit and matter. In my opinion you are wrong. Spirit is an abstraction but matter is not. So the abstract line represented by figure two which connects two point, each of which is immaterial, really is the contrast between two different kinds of spirit and not between spirit and matter. There must be two altogether different types of spirituality which are diametrically opposed to each other. That, in my opinion, is the numerological significance of the number two."
I think there’s a good description of this inward and outwardly directed movement in Sebastian Haffner's Memoirs in the book Defying Hitler, especially in the last two paragraphs of the excerpt below (taken from his book).
From the link:
http://www.cassiopaea.org/forum/index.php?topic=3521.msg23791#msg23791.
There is a third temptation I need to mention. It is the one I had to fight against myself, and again I was certainly not the only one. Its starting point is the recognition of the danger of succumbing to the previous temptation. You do not want to let yourself be morally corrupted by hate and suffering, you want to remain good-natured, peaceful, amiable and 'nice'. But how to avoid hate and suffering if you are daily bombarded with things that cause them? You must ignore everything, look away, block your ears, seal yourself off. That leads to a hardening through softness and finally also to a form of madness: the loss of a sense of reality.
For simplicity's sake, let me talk about my own experiences, not forgetting that my case should be multiplied a hundred thousand or a million-fold.
I have no talent for hate. j have always been convinced that involving oneself too deeply in polemics and arguments with incorrigible opponents, hating the despicable too much, destroys something in oneself - something that is worth preserving and is difficult to rebuild. My natural gesture of rejection is to turn away, not to go on the attack.
I also have a strong sense of the honour one does an opponent by deigning to hate him, and I felt that the Nazis in particular were not worthy of this honour. I did not want to be on such close terms with them as to hate them. The worst affront I suffered from them was not their intrusive demands for me to join in - those were beneath thinking or getting upset about - but the fact that, by being impossible to ignore, they daily caused me to feel hate and disgust, feelings that are so much against my nature.
Could I not find an attitude that avoided being forced to feel anything, even hate or disgust?
Could I not develop a serene, imperturbable disdain, 'taking one look and then moving on'?
What if it cost me half, or if need be all, my external life?
At just this time I read a dangerous, alluringly ambiguous sentence of Stendhal's. He wrote it as a coda after the restoration of 1814, an event that he felt to be a 'descent into the quagmire' just as I viewed the events of 1933.
There was only one thing, he wrote, still worth the toil and trouble, namely 'to hold oneself holy and pure'.
Holy and pure! That meant not only steering clear of all participation, but also of all devastation through pain, and any distortion through hate - in short, from any reaction at all, even that caused by rejection. Turn away - retreat into the smallest corner if you have to, if you can only keep it free of the polluted air, so that you can save undamaged the only thing worth saving, namely (to use the good old theological word) your soul.
I still think that there is some justification for this attitude; and I do not repudiate it. However, simply ignoring everything and retreating into an ivory tower, the way I imagined it then, was not the right thing to do. I thank God that my attempt to do so failed quickly and thoroughly.
Some of my acquaintances' attempts did not fail so quickly, and they had to pay a high price to learn that one can sometimes only save the peace of one's soul by sacrificing and relinquishing it.