Sarla Klee

A light entered the dense hour of the world, not like a call, not like a sign, but like a breath that does not tear the night apart. It moved unnoticed through the corridors of time, laid down no claim, raised no banner. Yet wherever it went, the measure of things was changed. A deed occurred, a word was spoken, a gaze came to rest – and in secrecy the wheel of the soul began to turn. For coming from the Higher, every action carries within it an invisible sun whose rays are recognized only...

Nicht mehr der Film läuft vor unseren Augen, sondern die Hände, die ihn schneiden. Nicht mehr die Geschichte trägt uns fort, sondern der Moment, der sie erst gebiert. Das Alte eilt, doch das Neue bleibt stehen. Es wartet nicht auf Antworten, sondern auf Gegenwart.

Human beings call free what moves within a web of forces. They choose and believe they guide, yet their steps often follow the ancient track of Nature. Invisible hands lead them: habit speaks, desire urges, fear decides faster than light. Thoughts come and go like waves that call themselves will. Thus they act, yet not from the center of their being. A will works within them, born of the world’s mechanics, an echo of Prakriti, restless, reactive, bound. This is the first master in the house...