drop from that reservoir--a drop indeed which is also pure
and perfect (though the phial in which it is contained may not always
be so). When we, each of us, descend into the world and meet the great
Ocean of Life which dwells there behind all mortal forms, it is like the
little phial being poured into the great reservoir. If the tiny canful
which is our selves is pure and unsoiled, then when it meets the
world it will blend with the Spirit which informs the world perfectly
harmoniously, without distress or dislocation. It will pass through and
be at one with it. How can one describe such a state of affairs? You
will have the key to every person that you meet, because indeed you are
conscious that the real essence of that person is the same as your own.
You will have the solution of every event which happens. For every event
is (and is felt to be) the touch of the great Spirit on yours. Can any
description of Rest be more perfect than that? Pure water poured into
pure water.... There is no need to hurry, for everything will come in
its good time. There is no need to leave your place, for all you desire
is close at hand.

Here is another verse (from the Vagasaneyi-Samhita Upanishad) embodying
the same idea: "And he who beholds all beings in the Self, and the
Self in all beings, he never turns away from It. When, to a man who
understands, the Self has become all things, what sorrow, what trouble,
can there be to him--having once beheld that Unity?"--What trouble,
what sorrow, indeed, when the universe has become transparent with the
presences of all we love, held firm in the One enfolding Presence?

But it will be said: "Our minds are NOT pure and transparent. More often
they are muddy and soiled--soiled, if not in their real essence, yet by
reason of the mortal phial in which they are contained." And that alas!
is true. If you pour a phial of muddy water into that reservoir which
we described--what will you see? You will see a queer and ugly cloud
formed. And to how many of us, in our dealings with the world, does life
take on just such a form--of a queer and ugly cloud?

Now not so very long after those Upanishads were written there lived
in China that great Teacher, Lao-tze; and he too had considered these
things. And he wrote--in the Tao-Teh-King--"Who is there who can make
muddy water clear?" The question sounds like a conundrum. For a moment
one hesitates to answer it. Lao-tze, however, has an answer ready. He
sa