Today’s instructor workshop will also be dedicated to the Laws we spoke about yesterday: 7 Laws, 7 planes. We will look at them from the instructor’s point of view: how they can be applied in order to return once more to the general concept of instructor training, to those points we must keep in mind. This is especially important not only for instructors of the big stage, but for beginning, “zero‑level” instructors. That is, those who do not yet lead small groups or big lectures, but who nevertheless work with people in one way or another within the school, within the zero and first cycles, so that they have at least some inner backbone for relating to people and for transmitting a certain impulse that must constantly be held in mind.
Let’s at least try to keep in mind what corresponds to each Law. I will remind you by planes. We start from above and go down.
For the Atma plane (Will, Law) — the Law of Unity.
Next — the Law of Illumination or Consecration (the Buddhi plane — intuition).
The Manas plane (higher mind) — the Law of Differentiation.
Then — organization (kama‑manas — lower mind).
Next — the Law of Psychism — the astral, the psyche.
The Law of activity, action — prana, energy.
And the last one, everyone remembers — the Law of Periodicity, of cycles — the physical plane.
How do you think we could apply them to instructor training, using the instructor as a model?
If you remember, the Law of Unity is the guiding principle that leads everyone to a single universal Destiny through the path of evolution. As we said: if he asks “how many of you are there?”, you answer: “One.” We said it is connected with an awareness of belonging to an organism, smaller or greater, an awareness that we are part of something greater than ourselves. And we said it is connected with awareness of the chain — the principle of emanations or transmission of fire by which the whole Universe was created. There is the original Absolute — the first fire. It transmits its fire to a second, the second begets a third and transmits its fire, and so on down to the smallest creature in the Universe. In this way, the one who transmits the fire loses nothing, does not change or diminish; he remains the same. And each link in the chain is simultaneously father and son, teacher and disciple: from someone it receives, to someone it gives. That is why yesterday, when we spoke about the general characteristics of the principle of Unity, we said that in each of us lies a particle of all those who are with us in the same chain. That is, a particle of the father, a particle of the parents. In each of us lives a part of the soul of the one who gave us birth. A particle of HAL lives in us, I live, and so on, and so on. How can this be applied to the instructor? First you tell me, and then I will tell you my thoughts. I have given you the basic theses. How would you apply them to yourself? What key points do you see in yourself as an instructor within the principle of Unity?
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We more or less heard several points. In fact, they all come down to the same thing. First of all, when we speak not only about the Law of Unity, but about all the Laws, we need to distinguish two aspects, and then later unite them. Aspects that concern the instructor himself, and aspects that concern the way a lecture or meeting is conducted according to these principles.
If we speak about what concerns the instructor himself, there is a main backbone that you have taken almost for granted: that an instructor, under the Law of Unity, does not transmit anything of his own. He does not transmit “his”, but the essence. A key point. The idea he must transmit is not his. According to the principle of emanations, if we take the Law of Unity into account, the instructor must first and foremost transmit the essence, the idea, the archetype of that organism of which he is a part. The main archetypes, ideas, points of what we call the ideology of New Acropolis. This is the first point. That means our first task at all our meetings — in lectures, in individual conversations — as The Voice of the Silence says, is: “Hast thou attuned thy heart and mind to…?” Have you attuned your assumptions, your key points to the heart, the doctrine and the philosophy of New Acropolis?
Here, as far as the Law is concerned, from the instructor’s standpoint, there are not ten thousand doctrines. There are not ten thousand different understandings of the doctrine. There are ten thousand different forms in which the same ideas are presented. In this context, the first and main task not only of the instructor, but also of the leader — and now we speak specifically in the context of lectures — is not to deviate from the path, not to wander off, not to distort. Not to give free‑form interpretations that have no basis already confirmed within the philosophy of New Acropolis by one or another hypothesis, by the words of HAL, of the classics, of Blavatsky, of myself, and so on. By “classics” I mean those authors who have, from time immemorial, stood within this chain of transmission of wisdom and are already recognized as authorities. Freedom in this sense is allowed only in the context that any assumption, any hypothesis must have confirmation in someone’s words or someone’s authoritative teachings. If no confirmation is found, then we look for it. And until we find it — we do not pass it on. We inform ourselves, ask, think, reflect so that things are digested. That is the first point from the instructor’s point of view.
The second point is the famous principle of emanations we mentioned when speaking about the Law of Unity, which is very relevant for the instructor. When does an instructor transmit? If we imagine a system of torches, where we light one torch from the primordial fire, then the second fire that is created has all the characteristics of the first plus the characteristics contributed by the material that burns. So when we give a lecture or hold a meeting, what are we actually doing? Is the meeting we conduct unique, the very first one? On the one hand, it is unique, but from the standpoint of Unity it is only a link in a chain.
So, if we speak about the principle of emanations, we can apply it both on the horizontal and on the vertical plane. On the horizontal plane, regarding the meeting I prepare — the topic, the approaches — I must always connect to someone. I must always know whose and what continuation I am. This means that each of my lectures, each meeting must have its foundation in previous ones. If I speak about the Stoics, I cannot speak about the Stoics without at least indirectly referring to the previous lecture that was on the Buddha, even if it was given by someone else. Indirectly — that is, by linking them into one chain and referring to the one who taught before me. If before me there was an instructor who is calmer, then I should be more dynamic, as a continuation and complement to what was. Is this clear?
This is especially important not only in lectures, but also for meetings that are held at different times by different people. If you lead a zero cycle, for example, it must be a continuation of the Open Day. If you lead a small group, it must be a continuation of the last general formative lecture that people heard, and a complement to the instructor who is leading the group. From the standpoint of instructing, you must always bear in mind that you are not starting the instructional process from scratch; it is like a relay: you only receive the torch and then pass it on to the next. This means you must care not only about what was, but also about what will be.
On the horizontal plane, if you conduct a small group, a meeting, a lecture, you must automatically have in mind what will come afterwards. What topic will be next? What meeting will come next? Even to the point of knowing which instructor will give it. If you do not know, you should note it in your diary — ask the one who knows. If he does not know either, you must push him until he tells you. Why? So that when you conduct your meeting you can draw conclusions and already prepare people for the next one. Not only with words. Prepare the ground for the next instructor, the next impulse, the next topic. And foresee this in your talk.
The point (I am now speaking about the horizontal plane) is that we must succeed in creating such a chain of impulses. You must know that you are responsible not only for yourself and for the specific class you are giving, but that from the standpoint of the Law of Unity you are responsible for the process of transmitting the impulse, as a link in the chain. At the very least, you must receive the impulse from the one who came before you — and he must have prepared the ground for you, so that people receive you properly. And you must prepare the ground so that they will properly receive the next person, the next topic and the next class. This aspect has been hazy for us and will remain hazy for a long time, but we must begin to become aware of it.
Now, from the standpoint of the Law of Emanations as applied on the vertical plane — that is, the chain that goes from above downward. We said yesterday and many times at instructor meetings that each of us carries a particle of the Teacher. And when giving a lecture, leading a class, any formative conversation or talk, each of you is obliged to give a piece of yourself. This may sound abstract and theoretical, but if the meeting is conducted properly, then a part of yourself remains in the person. How it will develop, what direction it will take, what it will give and whether it will give anything at all — is already the problem of the person to whom you transmitted it.
So the first point we must understand is that we carry a particle of HAL. I am not speaking about my own now. Let us speak about the main, central link that connects us with the world of Archetypes. We said that, in reality, to give a good lecture, to conduct a good meeting, small or large, means to do it as if he were in our place. That is, to transmit this part of the primordial fire, with our own additions. The ideal model is to imagine that you are giving his thoughts your own examples, your own color. This is very difficult. But from the standpoint of the Law of Unity, we must begin to bring this into life starting with awareness of its necessity.
You can also take me into account. When I, from the standpoint of the Law of Unity, prepare a lecture, I ask myself: how would HAL explain this? You know HAL well enough; you’ve read the green booklet. Even a few of his phrases are enough to understand his style. Not because we are creating a cult of HAL, but because the particle of the Teacher’s fire through which he gave us other fires, a wisdom still inaccessible to us, has been tried and must be transmitted further. When HAL gave a lecture, led a meeting, spoke or wrote to us, he always wrote, spoke and taught in the image and likeness of the way he himself had been taught, adding his own elements which created his distinctive style.
When we read HAL, when we listen to him, a sensitive person, a refined instructor, can immediately discern the wonderful system of how Sri Ram and other Teachers taught HAL. For a subtle person it is transparent. I really hope that if I sometimes succeed in being a good instructor (and if you have not felt that, then I am a bad one), that through the form, sometimes, when I teach you, you can sense how HAL taught me. It is not my form. Through certain examples, certain moments — not always, unfortunately — through me you can be united with HAL. Now you must become the next link in the chain.
First of all, what people, members, are missing is Lena. She is also a link. And if through the meetings and lectures you give people could sometimes, even for a moment, understand that “this is exactly how she spoke to us, how she taught us”, then they could understand how HAL taught me and how the Teachers taught HAL. This is the important point.
And although the initial preparation for a lecture, for a meeting, and the initial concentration before a meeting usually begins from the first question I ask you at instructor training: “How would you explain this in your own words?”, we must raise the question slightly higher. So that it will be easier for you and so that we can transmit what we officially call the ideology of New Acropolis, the first question we will ask is: how would HAL do it? I assure you: especially for formative meetings, every time I sit down to prepare, after collecting and reading a huge mass of material, I always ask myself first: what would HAL say? That is my backbone. And then: “Right, he would say this, this and this.” Knowing how HAL would explain something, I know he would never go into purely intellectual phrasing. He always explained what was most difficult in a simple way. There are many stable characteristics. Then I sit down and first look for how to be similar to him. And when I catch the backbone of his approach, his style, his key points, his depth, simplicity, strength, dynamism, and so on, when I see all of that, then yes — I add my own.
This is very important so that the lecture, from the standpoint of metaphysics, will be metaphysically alive, from the standpoint of mysteries — mystically alive, from the standpoint of purpose — alive. And the final and not least important reason: so that you can come to a lecture or meeting with full self‑confidence. How does it usually go before a lecture or meeting, especially a first one? We get nervous, and five minutes beforehand, in the metro or while waiting for it to begin, we frantically reread and memorize — and off we go. The notebook under the arm, flipping through it — that gives confidence to the persona. She can be calmed only by human means, and really only after the lecture. But we need a different kind of inner calm that is especially important when, in preparing the lecture, we truly do not know what to say, from where to begin, how to approach it. Sometimes we go like an empty sack: 30 pages in tiny handwriting, and we can’t make sense of them. And what does that give? Sometimes we have no time to prepare at all. “Oh, a small group — that’s not a lecture, just a meeting, only 5 people.” And we go.
For such situations we need a deeper calm of the soul. A soul that leans on the Teacher. That is the only being on whom a person may lean; everything else he must do himself. I tell you this also from my own twenty years of lecturing. Every time — I have told you this ten thousand times at instructor trainings — before important events I get nervous, but am always calmed by the same thought: how would HAL act? And if I cannot even formulate that thought, if in panic I cannot reach it, there is an automatic mechanism: the word, the concept “HAL” — and that’s all. Then I move on. Not “How would he say it? What would he say? How would he explain it? What examples?” Not even “help me” — just: “HAL!” — and forward.
From the standpoint of the Law of Will, Unity, return to origins, this must become for every instructor a state of soul. Besides HAL you also have one small intermediate link — me, Delia. I have Delia and HAL. But as for HAL — that is something truly special. Then we may be calm that our doctrine will not be distorted. Then we will be calm that we will not deviate from the path, and that we will not allow liberties stemming more from our persona than from our true soul.
Now, if we speak about the Law of Unity as it applies to the lecture itself — not about the instructor’s inner state, but about what kind of unification we must create in the lecture or meeting — with whom, and between whom and whom, must we unite? There are three planes of unification that must occur during a lecture or meeting: spiritual, psychological and physical.
As for unification on the spiritual plane and the fact that through every lecture certain doctrinal points, philosophy, archetypes and so on must slip through — that is clear to us. But there is more. Every instructor is an intermediate link between the audience, the listeners, and that Something with which they must be united. And in order to unite them, that is, to convey to listeners these eternal ideas, archetypes, you must first be united with them yourself. And in that context, all listeners, whether they agree with you or not, whether they listen or not, must during the lecture become united with you. And you must make this happen. This does not happen automatically at the start of the lecture, especially at a public lecture, where the audience is very diverse…
…you must foresee certain elements that will predispose people toward you. At the beginning of the lecture you must create the so‑called invisible bonds that will enable you to carry the lecture or meeting through to the end. Your task in this context is that you must, for people, especially if you work with them for a long time as an instructor, become a close and familiar person. Even if they never speak to you — because in big lectures not everyone can reach you. Even if you have no verbal contact or have very little with them. You must do everything in your power to become for them, not so much an authority, but a familiar, “one of us” person. This does not mean just breaking the initial ice, but structuring the lecture — especially its first part, or the first meetings if you are going to conduct them regularly — so that people come to love you. Not for your own sake, but so that, loving you, feeling a certain warmth, respect, admiration for you, they may more easily receive what you will transmit to them.
Because if a scarecrow comes on stage and talks about beauty, seeing him, people will not perceive beauty. Or if a very deep person comes on stage and pours out deep ideas and examples, but lacks this “fluid”, lacks himself as a living being whom people can immediately feel, then they will not receive him. He will transmit and speak completely in vain.
Be careful: winning people’s goodwill does not mean only joking with them, making them laugh, or — as many instinctively do — being pompous, ecstatic, speaking of beautiful, lofty things. No. This is something for which there are no recipes. It is innate in each of us. Each of us, whether or not he ever becomes an instructor, has in himself something attractive, worthy of admiration, worthy of being looked at with affection. Preparation for instructing and for a lecture means revealing this “something”. Not by recipes. Just by starting from the desire to create bonds with those who will listen to you. The rest — form, style, gestures, approach to people — will be suggested by intuition and the soul.
This, too, is a subtle point that we must first learn to recognize. At least to keep it in mind so that little by little it will begin to work. From the standpoint of Unity, keep in mind that people must be united by your personality, your presence, you yourself, in order to understand the lecture. Whether you like it or not, you are the center. And like the sun, everything radiates from this center.
Bearing this in mind, you must also understand that it is one thing to “tell” and another to “transmit”. One can tell for a long time and beautifully, but transmitting is much harder. And in this context, “to transmit” means to sow seeds in the soul of a person. To sow something. To touch the person with something. From the standpoint of the Law of Unity, the most beautiful transmission occurs when you, as center, feel the group as one organism, as one whole. You must not address a specific person, not speak to specific nice people who look at you and smile while the rest sleep; you must touch what is called the collective soul of the group.
I will move at once to unification in the lecture on the physical plane, then we will return to the psychic plane. To unite the group means to create in the lecture or meeting a small collective soul or collective form, a collective “bank”, if you remember. Or to awaken the collective soul. And to address not individual people, but the collective soul of the group. The result is that what you say will be heard by all and will be relevant for each. Preparing the lecture, you will not need to look for examples “for experts”, examples “for beginners”, examples for “average people” and so on. You will simply look for examples. And if you achieve this unity of the group, this collective soul, then this collective unconscious will distribute to each one what is relevant for him. That is, each will understand in your words what is relevant for him. That is what “to transmit” or “to sow” means.
From the standpoint of Unity, we must be very careful not to over‑adapt to the group. Not to go along with the group. We have spoken about this many times in instructor training. Usually, in order to be understood, we oversimplify, over‑adapt, break everything into tiny steps “so that it will be for everyone and for each”. This interferes with the creation of a collective soul. There are things that must be said as they are. Especially the main, essential things. Regardless of our fear whether they will be understood or not. And it is precisely those things, spoken to all without adaptation, that create the backbone of the group’s collective soul. Then you feel that the group is listening to you as one organism. And when what you give is what the organism “drinks” and distributes to its cells — then you have reached unity.
The last point concerns the psychological plane. Let it be abstract for you — I am sowing now; one day you will understand. From the standpoint of Unity on the psychological plane, we said that we must teach people not just to transmit information and key points, but, when giving a lecture or leading a meeting, to teach people to think and feel, to reason and to feel. That is, not just to ensure that they “understand something”, but to lead the whole group to common approaches in thought and emotion. To work with them on what is called the psychic plane. So that as they absorb information, at the same time they learn to reflect, to feel, to discern and to react accordingly to everything that surrounds them.
In this context we also said — and HAL says — especially for instructors: when you give a lecture and at the same time work with systems of thought, images or feeling, trying to transform them, you must above all teach people to learn from Nature and from Life. That is, as HAL says, so that what you speak about is only a model they can apply, and on the basis of which they can learn from Nature and from Life.
HAL gives a very simple example. If we talk about Plato. Instead of saying: “Plato in his Timaeus speaks about the Law of Cycles, that everything has its beginning and end, everything dies and is reborn”, we can approach Plato differently. We say: “Have you looked at Nature? Have you seen a tree? Have you seen its leaves? At a certain moment they die, fall from the tree, and then in spring they are born again. It is exactly about this, present in Nature, that Plato speaks in his Timaeus through such and such examples.” Another example from HAL: instead of saying “the Stoics said that one must learn to endure”, you say: “Have you seen a drop of water that falls on the same spot for a thousand years?” (I’ve stolen this ten thousand times already.) We then develop the topic from that point: “The Stoics said that yes, patience is…” and so on.
The approach should be the opposite: not beginning with information and ending with examples, but, as far as possible, beginning with examples, so that people learn to analyze what happens, and ending with information, with study as confirmation of these examples from life. Your task, in working with people’s thoughts and emotions, is to ensure that, whatever topic you teach, whatever meeting you lead, people learn that a human being can and must learn everywhere, in any situation, and from everything. That a human being always learns from everything, and that in your lectures he finds the synthesis and confirmation of what he has learned in life.
That is why HAL also draws attention to the need to be careful with examples: they must not all be of the same type. If we want to unite people in one and the same approach to thinking and to feeling, then if we take one or two examples from Nature, the next must be from political and social life, the next from science, then from art, then from some piece of news seen on television, and then from ordinary everyday life. In each lecture, through your examples — whatever the topic you present, whatever you are leading — the person must see this range of different situations united by the same approach to thinking. I will again give an example from HAL: he says one can learn much more by driving a car at 180 km/h than by describing that speed and sensations in a lecture. People must know that Life, everywhere and always, teaches them, and that confirmation of this learning they find in your lecture.
If you can bring people to look at everything around them in such a way that they automatically, as a state of consciousness, draw conclusions, that reflections appear, that impulses of deeper understanding arise, then you unite these people in terms of the second aspect of discipleship — which is called research.
The next Law, the Law of Consecration, Illumination. To burn, to spiritualize, and so on — we spoke about this yesterday. There is no being that is not spiritualized, that does not have its own light; evil and darkness are only distance from the light. In theory, we have assimilated this. From the standpoint of the Law of Consecration, being an instructor means transmitting fire, igniting, burning, inspiring. We have gone through this ten thousand times. We also discussed that, from the standpoint of transmitting light, you yourself must always be a “hot” guy or girl, an instructor. Forty degrees of “temperature” at least. An instructor must always be ill. As an instructor, as a head, as MN, I dislike that you are ill with anything but yourself; from the standpoint of the Law of Illumination, you must be ill with the idea, with the dream of what you will transmit.
In this sense, not only symbolic but very concrete, the instructor really must be a bit ill. From the standpoint of the instructor and the Law of Consecration, he must be ill not only with the topic, not only with the specific information he is giving, but with instructorship itself, with the very fact of being an instructor, with the very fact of transmitting. First, in order for you to become good instructors, despite the fact that, as in my case, fear will always remain, irritation will always remain (“Oh, another lecture again”), deep down you must desire, dream of, and love being an instructor. This is what it means to be “ill with the idea”. To be ill with instructorship itself.
From time to time, to make life easier, you could reflect on how much instructorship is not a terrible responsibility and duty, but something beautiful, something wonderful, an honor. From the standpoint of the Law of Consecration, transmitting fire is a magnificent process. Let no one understand you, let no one accept anything, let no one assimilate anything — so be it. You must be artists of your work, love your art of transmission, live it. I will paraphrase Marcus Aurelius: “Can it be that the potter loves his vessels more, that the smith loves his swords more, that the farmer loves his seeds and his garden more than the instructor loves the very process of transmission and his students?”
This phrase has been heard ten thousand times from every angle: that instructorship is a mission, that one must live it. I am sure that if I woke you at four in the morning, you would recite it all by heart, you’ve been hammered with it so much. But why then, among instructors — both of the zero cycle and of the big stage — do I see so few instructors by vocation, by calling? Who feel this as their purpose, their vocation, as something without which they simply could not live, because there would remain an unfilled void — something they must strive for, fight for, love and hope for.
I have seen very few instructors who, when I rejoiced with them about their first lecture or first small group, did not perceive it as yet another hard labor, or as a “present”. You need not hide it. There is nothing to hide here. Besides the fact that one must be “presentable”, one must be an instructor in one’s soul. And if during our instructor meetings, whether through my fault (I may be explaining everything very boringly) or not through my fault, you do not come to love and desire to become instructors, then I will have a big problem.
And now, if we return to HAL, to Delia, to my small and modest person — I think we are guilty of all sins, but that we love to transmit — that yes. Perhaps we do not know how — that’s another matter — but heaven forbid they cancel some lecture, some opportunity to transmit, to tell, to ignite — then we ourselves will no longer be ourselves. We will be like dried‑up branches cut off from the roots, that are no longer charged.
I do not keep going back to my spleen just to make you laugh again. Everyone is protecting me, protecting me, and I asked to be given the first cycle precisely so that I could support the first cycle — and not so much the cycle as myself. Because I know that from the moment I stand in front of people and there is nowhere to run — let the stomach rumble, let someone munch in the cafeteria — for me, to hell with all of them — my element has begun. And until it ends, there is no spleen and nothing like that. Is this clear? This is Art. The greatest, the highest. It is not even the art of words, but a higher art. Within it, the art of handicraft and everything else — it is all the same transmission that appears in instructorship and then manifests everywhere.
From the standpoint of the second Law, Consecration, instructors must be supreme masters of giving, the highest class in giving, an example in this. Because what is developed and accumulated throughout life through work, what is received through different forms of existence — in school and in personal life — all that is then given out in a lecture, in a conversation, a meeting: the whole complex of experience, not one, not two, not three elements. Everything you have is given out. It would be foolish for me to say this if it were not already latent somewhere.
All our instructor meetings, small groups and lectures are only a trial, an experiment to discover, over years, priests, masters of giving. From the standpoint of the Law of Consecration, if an instructor reaches such a state, it no longer matters how he prepared, which sources he read, whether he read ten books or only someone else’s lecture. The backbone, the channel — this is what we live for. And when there is a why, when there is something for which we do something, then it is not only we who act: then consecration, illumination, spiritualization takes place.
We should ponder this. As far as heads of departments and so on are concerned, we always say: if you cannot, then try, make an effort. But for instructors there is a term, a period after which they either exist — or they don’t. It is better never to touch this, not to approach it, not to ruin life for yourself or others, than to do it halfway. That is the specificity of instructorship, whatever we call it — the Law of Consecration or something else. In this sense the instructor becomes truly a priest and a magician; and there is no wise man, magician or priest “halfway”. Either he is, whole and complete, or he is not.
If you give a lecture or hold a meeting with such a state of soul from the outset, then the meeting may be more or less successful, it does not matter whether it goes well, whether everyone falls asleep or not. The sacrament of the famous Law of Consecration will still take place from the standpoint of instructorship, because when the instructor transmits power while lecturing, he awakens in people an elementary force that will sustain them for a certain time. This is the moment of Love‑Intuition, the moment of blessing. If true Great Ones bless by transmitting a real inner strength through their touch, then the instructor’s instrument is the sacred word. We spoke about this at the previous marathon. You must understand that in this sense, from the standpoint of the second Law, the instructor really works as a doctor, a therapist; he heals.
We may laugh, but a lecture, a meeting and a small group are a kind of session, which, at the peaks of mastery, is done consciously. At lesser heights it is done thanks to this instructor approach: “I come because this is my vocation.” Keep in mind that this force, which you transmit to a person, to people, to the group, to the collective soul, is a force that must last for a certain time. It initiates that process of catharsis we have also spoken about tens of thousands of times. Then, when people leave your lecture, they not only feel better, cleaner — because the dirt they came with is removed — they also become better. Or at least consciously receive the conditions to become better.
This is the second logos. The result of instructorship from the standpoint of the Law of Consecration: the person must become better after being with you. He must become better, or at least he must find the conditions which you created in the lecture so that he can use them in his outer life. How many “sessions”, lectures, meetings, interactions are needed for this depends on the person. In this context, as far as the lecture is concerned, you must reach such a state (I felt it toward HAL’s lectures, and I think many of you felt it from the very beginning): that you live from lecture to lecture, and that your students, your people, live from one meeting with you to the next. This is called the second logos or principle of consecration, or higher mastery. Still without being attached to you, without being dependent on you — but they come to you like to a spring from which they can drink and then go on living. And when they feel thirst again, they return and live by you. If you do not achieve this, there will be no use at all in instructorship.
We move on to the third principle: the principle of Differentiation. We have mentioned it many times before, in various contexts. It is connected with the higher mind, with Manas, with the ability to grasp archetypes. If you remember, we spoke in Living Forces about how, when light begins to act, it breaks down into a spectrum of colors; this is the principle of Differentiation.
From the instructor’s standpoint, how does the principle of Differentiation work? First, it is connected with the awareness or understanding of what you are speaking about. We spoke about this earlier, when we said that a person, if he speaks about something, must consciously stand behind it. Be careful not to confuse awareness with having found the ultimate truth on the subject. You are teaching others, but you must realize that any information, any formulation, any advice or teaching that reaches you requires a new awareness at your level. Not complete awareness, but a new awareness at your level. That is, it requires that at least in some respect this information ceases to be a pure abstraction for you… You must transmit consciously. And when you transmit consciously, you can pass to the process of differentiation in the lecture; then you can differentiate.
I will explain. What does it mean to differentiate? First, when I prepare and give a lecture, I must first understand for myself, and then transmit to the students, the main essence or primary idea of the topic — or, as it is also called, the archetype of the topic. This is the original core thesis from which I begin and around which the entire lecture is structured.
If, for example, I speak about Plato’s State, I have a main thesis: “As above, so below.” Harmony above — harmony below. The state must be a reflection of the harmony of the universe. This is the main thesis, the only one that includes everything; the main idea, the archetype. I find it and around it I build my talk. After I know the main thesis and idea of the topic, which is usually, like all great things, simple, I must learn to formulate it for myself in one or two phrases that contain everything. After that I move on to differentiation. From the general idea to differentiation, that is, I look for which main key points can help explain this thesis, this main idea.
That is “differentiation”: there is the original light, the idea, and then there is a spectrum of key points, where each key point contains or can lead us back to the original idea. If I speak about the vertical structure of the pyramid in Plato’s state, or about four types of people, or about two worlds — intelligible and sensory, or about four ages, or about the warriors and their types, or about the forms of education — all these key points must in some way confirm the main idea or illustrate one of its aspects. Everything, in reality, speaks of how the cosmic order is reflected on earth within the state.
This is differentiation: in every key point you mention there is a subtext of this idea that, in the mind of the listener, confirms the main idea or allows it to unfold. From the standpoint of differentiation, when you give key points and unfold the main idea, there is a very useful form to employ in lectures. All the philosophers before us used it. It is called dialogue. This does not necessarily mean that you ask a real question and someone from the audience answers; sometimes this is possible, sometimes not. It means building your conception of the lecture — key points, archetypes — on the basis of questions and answers that you yourself pose.
From a certain assumption comes a question, from that question a certain answer is born, and from that answer comes the next question. This is the famous method of Socrates, Plato, and it greatly helps people, on the one hand, to grasp the essence of what you are telling them, and on the other, if you are teaching them to work with pure abstractions or pure ideas (this is precisely Manas), you must develop in them the habit of reflecting by asking themselves questions in a dialogical way. That is, the birth of questions from certain problems and the search for answers to them. You must lead a person to understand that he really grasps and is wise, that he catches the essence only when he knows how to ask the right question. To ask himself, not even someone else. Because a question asked in the right point leads him to new searches.
If you prepare a lecture from the standpoint of differentiation and no questions arise for you within that topic — only statements — then you have prepared it badly. And you must get used to, so that your people will get used to this, after you have a plan of key points and of information, preparing also a list of questions. According to the same system that must become natural to you: when you ask a question, you find an answer, and that answer automatically leads to a new question. Automatically.
According to the same system, under the Law of Differentiation — that is, of working with Manas — the instructor must be, symbolically speaking, the one who, within his class, gives himself and his students the opportunity to remove veils. We constantly said that to open key points is to return repeatedly to one and the same thing and, within that same, always find something new — new revelations, new understandings. This “new”, which is found on the basis of the old, is the removal of another veil; and the veils are endless.
If we take the principle of differentiation into account, the instructor must work — as we already said — with a system of revelations, of removing veils. First for himself, and then during the lecture or conversation trying to ensure that people discover something new in what they have already heard ten thousand times. If in your lecture there are no moments when you feel: “This is a revelation for people, they are truly, at least once, understanding something new for themselves”, then your lecture is unsuccessful from the standpoint of the principle of Differentiation. You must take this into account when you draw your conclusions.
We move on to the principle of Organization, one of the most understandable — kama‑manas. As we said last time, it is logic on the one hand, and on the other — work in time and space. We have said ten thousand times that the instructor must first organize his lecture. In what sense? He must have certain things arranged on the shelves.
We said there is a plan of formative points and a plan of informational points, but we must not forget that there must be an inner logic in all of this, and that after you have reviewed and prepared the entire lecture — regardless of the notebook you may have — you must already have in your head and remember by heart a logical plan of the formative theses and a logical plan of the information, a very simple, short, point‑by‑point model of the lecture’s main sections. They must be logically connected with each other. You must distribute the points so that they are built either according to the Law of Emanations or the Law of Numbers: from one point follows the second, from the second the third, from the third the fourth.
HAL said it is very dangerous to create a lecture’s plan, its organizational model, without linking the points among themselves. For example, we speak of the Buddha as usual: point one — life; point two — the historical era in which he lived; point three — his deeds, what he did; point four — the teaching; point five — death. A very simple model. But it lacks the logical connection: why and how do his deeds follow from his life, or how does his life follow from the era in which he lived; then, if the next point is the form of his work, how do the forms of work follow from the historical epoch? If after that comes the teaching, how does the teaching follow from his work? If death is the last point, in what way does his death follow from his teaching? This we very often omit. Logic — but not purely rational logic, rather thoughtful, formative, key logic.
And most importantly — beware of long plans, long lists of theses with ten thousand points. In this model, which you must know by heart, there are the basic points, and everything else is contained within them. So that in the lecture you do not come to that very common mistake we also discussed: half an hour has passed — “I skipped this, I didn’t tell that… and I go further.”
AVG: There is another point. The break comes — and I’ve already told everything.
Exactly. The break comes — and that’s it.
In this context, the topic and the lecture must be organized as follows. This is a matter of experience, and HAL also speaks about it. Usually, in our great conviction that the formative elements in a lecture are most important (and that is true), in a lecture on Plato, on Socrates, on the philosophy of history, on esoteric mathematics, we speak about the same few formative points so that people often never discover who Socrates was, what Plato actually said, or what esoteric mathematics is. Everything is built on formative points, and people hear very little about the subject itself. This is one extreme.
The other extreme is when there is a heap of information, everything is known about the topic, but why and what it is for — only God knows, and science does not. Usually, a lecture is built so that there is an even balance: fifty percent interesting information and fifty percent formative content. And they should be interwoven — but another Law will speak about this — so that each formative point is, if possible, supported by an interesting fact about the topic, and vice versa: every interesting fact is supported by an interesting formative point. And beware of boredom.
The next Law is the Law of Psychism, which from the instructor’s standpoint concerns the creation of collective astral and mental forms. In theory, what does this process consist of? If there are ideas and points a person must not forget, that must be present in his life, becoming a driving force for his awareness and revelations, then we must ensure that certain words, certain terms, become part of our vocabulary, frequent expressions in everyday life, the subject of jokes, skits, congratulations, toasts. This is called a collective astral‑mental form.
Even to the point where it sometimes seems we have overdone it, that there are concepts used everywhere and chewed over everywhere, so that it would be better not to mention them (of course we must be careful not to reach distortion). The concept of “dream”, remember how much; or “Golden City”. All the members will tell you, if you wake them in the middle of the night in any city center: “Dream, Don Quixote, Golden City, hope, HAL, patience, hope is a form of faith” — winged phrases that are important not because they are used, but as evidence, as a sign, as a result that something has already become part of the collective soul, that is, a collective form of thinking and perception.
This is a hard task on the one hand, but when you give a lecture or class, you must find ways to revisit and “feed” these astral‑mental forms — carefully, without provoking protest, without moralizing, without turning it into a sermon. As HAL said, creating collective astral‑mental forms, or banks of charge, which then act on their own like small devas, guardians, lies at the heart of working with emotions during a lecture or class.
First, we must not forget, HAL says, that every class must be emotionally charged. What does “emotionally charged” mean? If there is an emotional charge you transmit, it means that through everything you say you awaken what is called a state of devotion, or that you work on the ray of devotion. Through emotions, you must evoke devotion to the school, to the dream, to the Teacher, to the Beautiful.
Therefore it is said that during a lecture or class — and this is mastery of the highest kind — we should, if possible consciously, plan for moments of emotional shocks. Or, more normally, emotional blows that have a double purpose. Their first function is to awaken or lead to states of dream, aspiration, purity, catharsis — to awaken lofty emotions, a need for the great and the beautiful. Their second function is to evoke catharsis through shame, agitation, anxiety, when speaking of things that must provoke inner re‑evaluation and inner breaks. Naturally, this must be done very delicately. It does not mean screaming at the top of your lungs, tearing your shirt, your back, and so on.
There are two main ways these emotional surges that lead upward or to inner breaks and re‑evaluation are evoked. They may be very soft, beautiful, moving moments, as we discussed at previous marathons — calling forth tears of tenderness or of despair, or not even despair, but a deep awareness of how far you have fallen by a certain criterion. Not outer tears, but when the soul cries. Or they may be strong, highly emotional moments that include your voice, everything; but this is a question of training. They are usually delivered as sudden blows, when the listeners least expect it. This is a subtle but very important point, especially when it comes to the beautiful.
The old members remember Fernand Schwarz. Everyone goes hee‑hee, ha‑ha, “well done, yes‑yes‑yes” — and at the end: AVE!!! But that is for Living Forces instructors, not for big stage instructors. These emotional peaks are very important, especially when dealing with powerful things. When you almost do not feel it yourself — your voice rises, the strength of your words too; there is silence in the hall; everyone is looking at you; you see that you are reaching a climax — before that you must first calm them. Lull them with a nice “la‑la‑la”, and then you feel the moment — bang! Then lull again, relax, make them laugh, and so on.
These emotional moments in a strong, beautiful lecture must be foreseen. Naturally, in meetings and department activities a softer version is recommended. Otherwise Marina will come and shout: “Scalpel!” — and of course no one will stay. Or Lyosha Sidorov: “I’m filming you for history!” Naturally.
And finally, from the standpoint of the Law of Psychism — a lecture, a class is a theatre. Initiatic — as an ideal model; ordinary — as a non‑ideal one. In what sense? Once again, we said that the instructor is an actor. Whatever he conducts — a meeting, a department session, a small group or a lecture — he must make people not just listen, but participate in what he narrates. Why do I say “participate”, and why do I say it is a one‑man theatre?
When you tell about some event, about a character, you must make the listeners live through it with that character, live with him, transport themselves as if watching a film, a soap opera. Do not tell about anything — especially if it concerns the lives of people, of living events — as an outside observer. That is the worst thing. You must tell by drawing, embellishing. If you speak of Giordano Bruno burning at the stake, you yourself must be horrified, so that the listeners feel the flames, feel pity for the man. They must feel what his disciples felt while watching him depart, feel what it means to go to another world while remaining below; so that it is not a story, but a scene. This is very important. From the standpoint of emotions, this gives you the possibility to carry them with you into the situation you describe, and to have them live it with you.
Keep in mind — a small addition — that your listeners, no matter how smart they are and no matter how many times they have heard it, are like children who came and are waiting for the curtain to rise. You are not just telling them a fairy tale. They are waiting for the curtain. And to avoid ending up with scholarly reports of “such‑and‑such facts”, to avoid boredom, you must bring the story to life. So that the characters and events come alive before you and before them. So that people see, as if with their own eyes, without seeing anything. And for that, you yourself must see it.
The next principle is the Law of Activity, of Action. As we said — this is the famous dynamism. To overcome inertia. Naturally, it defines the roles and functions of the instructor in the class. Under the previous Law he is an actor; under this Law he is a fighter, a warrior. I will explain.
Keep in mind that when you step onto the stage — oh, how many times I have experienced this with you, even today — when you come with your small flame, your small impulse, all prepared, and you see faces in front of you — in a subtle sense they become your beloved enemies. Because when you come with something new and they are still sitting in their old ways, in their immobility, their blindness, their little quirks and stupidities, the first state that arises is to arm yourself with helmet and shield like Don Quixote against the windmills — that is the Law of Action. Don Quixote attacks the mills: for others they are mills, but for him they are beloved enemies; each of them must be shaken, pierced.
You must ensure that the fire you bring, the advice, the teaching, is stronger than the general inertia of those present. How difficult this is. This defines the dynamics of the class. This defines the dynamics of a class which, in a certain sense, must be felt by you as a struggle. Not a struggle to explain better, or to recall something and give more information, but a struggle between light and darkness. Relatively. Because they still do not see the new fire you must give them.
I say “not enemies, but beloved enemies”, because when you come onto the stage — we’ve said that the instructor must love his students — but as he steps onto the stage, depending on the atmosphere, he must, in a very healthy, positive way, get a little angry. Not exactly angry, but rebellious. Rebel against the same inertia he sees in himself and cannot overcome, because he drags words out of himself like chewing gum, barely, in order to overcome the inertia of others.
He must know that the class or meeting is only the first stage or first step in the great process of action he starts inside the person. To overcome inertia means to bring a person, who sits still and only looks at you, to a state of inner boiling, fermentation. Bring him to a parallel state where, with one ear he listens to you, and with the other he automatically and simultaneously reflects, applies things to himself, experiences, worries or rejoices. You must cause the inner storm you start — in a beautiful or in another way — to become the first step in a chain of actions he will take later, when he goes home. The dynamism of your lecture will determine how he will act in the outer world after it. Not only how you “hooked him”, but how you set him into motion. Prana. But not bio‑energy — the energy that accumulates in a person and gives him the ability, after leaving you, to take steps based on what he heard.
That is why I say this is Don Quixote’s battle with the windmills, which far from always ends successfully. The mills remain as they were. But sometimes in instructorship there are moments — and then later a person feels peaceful — when “the moment you dare attack the monster, it instantly turns into a windmill”: moments when you disarm people, when thanks to those steps they take after your impulse, after the dynamics of your lecture, after your struggle with them — noble or fierce — they become not only better but less harmful, less destructive.
This struggle, which for great masters — like Delia, HAL, great Teachers — is conscious, very mysterious and fairly complex (they come and immediately know what is in the atmosphere, what must be attacked, what must be stopped, what must be developed), for us, at our level, happens more or less unconsciously, helped by whatever inspires and guides us. But it begins from the moment we speak about it at least a little, or prepare for it at least a little.
And the last Law — the Law of Periodicity, of Cycles. Very briefly. We have also spoken about it at different instructor marathons: our lecture must be built in cycles. That is, in periods, in phases. You cannot beat on one and the same thing through the entire lecture, keeping one and the same level of understanding, inspiration, burning and so on. For you this is practically impossible. So the lecture — in terms of content, preparation and emotional peaks — must be structured like a sine wave, with climactic moments.
During the two hours of your lecture, you must choose certain beautiful climactic points that will be like pearls for you — and you keep another trump card hidden up your sleeve. Each time people’s attention relaxes, you lead them to one of these peaks. First you bring attention to one climactic moment. You see that people are hooked… then you let them not listen for a while. Afterwards, after other theoretical points that are important but not so exciting, you again approach a new moment when their attention is dulled, and then again allow them to not listen. And so on until the end of the lecture.
But the most important part of these cycles of climactic moments — at which alone the attention of the entire audience is fully focused — is that the lecture must begin and end with the main beautiful idea. You must ensure that the strongest climax is at the end. Do not place it in the middle, because then, by speaking afterwards about less important things, you will divert attention from the main point. You must tell everything before the end — not in the very last minutes when everyone is already tired and understands nothing — and then people will come and ask: “Why do you leave the most interesting part for the end?” You must send people home with a living imprint, with something through which their own work will continue.
Another important point, although we spoke about this earlier: besides those climactic emotional shots, you must always allow for release. A lecture without humor, without anecdotes, without moments of laughter is not a lecture.