The Ninth Vibration | Page 8

Temple at
Vellore. They appeared to spring from the pillars into the gloom urged
by invisible riders, the effect barbarously rich and strange - motion
arrested, struck dumb in a violent gesture, and behind them
impenetrable darkness. I could not see the end of this hall - for the
moon did not reach it, but looking up I beheld the walls fretted in great
panels into the utmost splendour of sculpture, encircling the stories of
the Gods amid a twining and under-weaving of leaves and flowers. It
was more like a temple than a dwelling. Siva, as Nataraja the Cosmic
Dancer, the Rhythm of the Universe, danced before me, flinging out his
arms in the passion of creation. Kama, the Indian Eros, bore his bow
strung with honey-sweet black bees that typify the heart's desire.
Krishna the Beloved smiled above the herd-maidens adoring at his feet.

Ganesha the Elephant-Headed, sat in massive calm, wreathing his wise
trunk about him. And many more. But all these so far as I could see
tended to one centre panel larger than any, representing two life-size
figures of a dim beauty. At first I could scarcely distinguish one from
the other in the upward-reflected light, and then, even as I stood, the
moving moon revealed the two as if floating in vapor. At once I
recognized the subject - I had seen it already in the ruined temple of
Ranipur, though the details differed. Parvati, the Divine Daughter of
the Himalaya, the Emanation of the mighty mountains, seated upon a
throne, listening to a girl who played on a Pan pipe before her. The
goddess sat, her chin leaned upon her hand, her shoulders slightly
inclined in a pose of gentle sweetness, looking down upon the girl at
her feet, absorbed in the music of the hills and lonely places. A band of
jewels, richly wrought, clasped the veil on her brows, and below the
bare bosom a glorious girdle clothed her with loops and strings and
tassels of jewels that fell to her knees - her only garment.
The girl was a lovely image of young womanhood, the proud swell of
the breast tapering to the slim waist and long limbs easily folded as she
half reclined at the divine feet, her lips pressed to the pipe. Its silent
music mysteriously banished fear. The sleep must be sweet indeed that
would come under the guardianship of these two fair creatures - their
gracious influence was dewy in the air. I resolved that I would spend
the night beside them. Now with the march of the moon dim vistas of
the walls beyond sprang into being. Strange mythologies - the
incarnations of Vishnu the Preserver, the Pastoral of Krishna the
Beautiful. I promised myself that next day I would sketch some of the
loveliness about me. But the moon was passing on her way - I folded
the coat I carried into a pillow and lay down at the feet of the goddess
and her nymph. Then a moonlit quiet I slept in a dream of peace.
Sleep annihilates time. Was it long or short when I woke like a man
floating up to the surface from tranquil deeps? That I cannot tell, but
once more I possessed myself and every sense was on guard.
My hearing first. Bare feet were coming, falling softly as leaves, but
unmistakable. There was a dim whispering but I could hear no word. I

rose on my elbow and looked down the long hall. Nothing. The
moonlight lay in pools of light and seas of shadow on the floor, and the
feet drew nearer. Was I afraid? I cannot tell, but a deep expectation
possessed me as the sound grew like the rustle of grasses parted in a
fluttering breeze, and now a girl came swiftly up the steps, irradiate in
the moonlight, and passing up the hall stood beside me. I could see her
robe, her feet bare from the jungle, but her face wavered and changed
and re- united like the face of a dream woman. I could not fix it for one
moment, yet knew this was the messenger for whom I had waited all
my life - for whom one strange experience, not to be told at present,
had prepared me in early manhood. Words came, and I said:
"Is this a dream?"
"No. We meet in the Ninth Vibration. All here is true."
"Is a dream never true?"
"Sometimes it is the echo of the Ninth Vibration and therefore a
harmonic of truth. You are awake now. It is the day-time that is the
sleep of the soul. You are in the Lower Perception, wherein the truth
behind the veil of what men call Reality is perceived."
"Can I ascend?"
"I cannot tell. That is