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--- the_white_cross [2026/03/22 06:07] – created iam
+++ the_white_cross [2026/07/27 07:47] (current) – iam
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-====== The Inner Life 1933 ======
+====== The Inner Life ======
-The White Cross
+== THE HERALD OF THE NEW AGE | MARCH 1936 ==
+----
+<WRAP centeralign>
+==== THE WHITE CROSS ====
+</WRAP>
+<WRAP justify>
+A MORNING in mid-May, 1934, found me in my garden working over a flower bed. This garden is in a forest overlooking a stream of water in Northland.
+From childhood the Blessed Ones have taught me to listen to the language of the flowers when I am among them, have taught me consciously to receive the refreshment and nourishment given out by the flowers. Life-long habit has raised my consciousness during the flower-communing periods.
+On this special morning I became conscious of what lacking in a more comprehensive term, I call “overshadowing.” I felt not only in tune with the Heights, but expectant, aware, expectant; yet nothing by way of inspiration came in, as is often the case during such moments of awareness.
+Presently I looked up into the sky noting the blue expanse. All before me above the tree tops across the water was blue, so blue I made a mental note of it; the all blue sky, the beauty of the morning so impressed me and abides with me that the consciousness of it is very distinct even as I now write. I could not continue my activity, so I sat on the ground quietly, scarcely enjoying woods, water and sky.
+Clearly before my eyes formed two long narrow white clouds, one from the East, one from the West. These clouds floated slowly but definitely toward each other in a way that caught my attention and I felt. These two white clouds met, merged, and slowly formed a white cloud Cross in the field of blue; a definite, not to be mistaken White Cross! At this time there was not a trace of another white cloud in my range of vision.
+I remember at this point of my observations being called to the telephone. Reluctantly I answered the bell. When I returned the Cross was in the same position, clear, unchanged. Also I remember the texture of the Cross felt to me soft, like fluffy, embracing, tender clouds, yet it was firm in model and unchanging. I recall that when other clouds later came and passed over the Cross and covered it in the passing, I expected it to be wiped out. But not so. It held its position.
+For some time it conveyed nothing to me in impression or inspiration. Finally I returned to the work of the flower-bed,
+</WRAP>
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