The vocational histories in the Cayce files raise many questions in the mind of the thoughtful investigator. First of all there is the problem of beginnings—a problem which troubles most reincarnationists as they try to push back to the first emergence of the soul from God. What initially set off one soul in one occupational direction and another soul in another? If the spirits of men originally emanated from Divinity as equal and undifferentiated, why then should one start off in the direction of agriculture, another in trading, a third in textiles, fourth in music, and a fifth in mathematics? Was there some minute element of individuality in each which led to the diversity of human activities that they chose—and if so, what determined that individuality?
Although the Cayce files provide no clear cut answer to this question, they do furnish fairly satisfactory information with respect to another question that suggests itself—namely: what later causes a soul to change from one occupation to another? There are examples of many such changes in the Cayce files, and an analysis of the pertinent data indicates that the transition can be accounted for by either of two basic factors: desire or karmic law.
In several previously cited cases, desire has been seen to be a force equal in strength to karma. It seems clear that a soul can begin to experience desire for a new talent or quality of being through contact with a person who expresses such a talent or quality. According to Cayce, many individuals who witnessed the ministry of Jesus in teaching and helping the sick and afflicted became inspired through a kind of contagion to wish to do likewise. The force of this desire carried them through several successive lifetimes in an effort to acquire a teaching or healing gift. Sometimes the desire takes form not primarily through the influence of an inspiring personality, but rather through an uncomfortable sense of inability in a situation requiring gifts that the person does not have. However aroused, desire would appear to be an important determinant of the soul’s destiny. It gradually gathers momentum and takes more and more specific form and direction; finally, through the choice of suitable parents and a suitable environment, the soul is enabled to begin to perfect a new facet of its nature.
Perhaps it takes several lifetimes, as in the case of introversion and extraversion, fully to achieve a transition from one occupational proficiency to another under the impetus of desire. If this inference is correct, it should be an encouraging thought to people who feel themselves to be mediocre in their profession. Perhaps their mediocrity, by comparison with the excellence of others, is due to the fact that this is only their first or second attempt in an untried field.
In addition to desire, karma seems to be an important factor determining vocational change. It is obvious that the maturation of a crippling physical karma would interrupt the progress, let us say, of a successful career as a dancer, already of several lives’ standing. In impeding the free expression of the one vocation, such an affliction would of necessity induce change to another, and possibly reawaken some other talent long since buried.
The case of the girl lamed with tuberculosis of the hip joint is just such an instance. For a long time after this girl was stricken, she wondered what occupation she should follow to be socially useful. She was told to study the harp; told also that she would have a natural gift for it because she had specialized in stringed instruments in an early Egyptian incarnation. The girl followed this advice, and, in fact, discovered that she had a distinct talent for the instrument, though it had never occurred to her to study it before. She has since given numerous concerts together with her sister, and though she has not achieved fame, she has at least realized a profession that keeps her happy and busy. The immediately preceding lives had been spent in other occupations, so it is clear that a physical karma here acted to interrupt one vocational sequence and to initiate, or revive, another sequence.
Another question that occurs is this: how many different occupations must a soul experience before his evolution (with respect to this planetary system) can be said to be complete? It seems obvious that for a well-rounded development every soul must have worked at many different things; it seems highly unlikely that anyone could graduate from the solar system having reached perfection in art and having total ignorance of mechanics and medicine and sociology. It is conceivable that the Cosmic Board of Regents requires a certain number of credits in all these fields; but by what curricular arrangements all the courses for so large a student body are processed is another question.
Whatever the basic plan may be, this much at least seems clear: that there is a close inter-involvement in many cases between vocational problems and spiritual ones. That is to say, a vocational difficulty in many cases seems to be subordinate to some defect of character which needs to be corrected. A case in point is that of a forty-eight-year-old bachelor who, because of certain personality difficulties, found his profession of real estate agent increasingly distasteful. He obtained a reading from Cayce for the purpose of discovering what change of occupation to make and was told that in the previous life he had been a teacher whose nature was imperious and dictatorial. This harsh rigidity of character had been carried over into the present and formed the basis of his difficulties in making easy social adjustments. The reading counseled him to remain in his occupation even though it was uncongenial; “for, while it is not always easy, you are learning a needed lesson.”
There are many similar cases in the files and a reading of them recalls a reflection of Tolstoi. He remarked that the circumstances of life are very much like the scaffolding of a building. The purpose of these wooden platforms is merely to serve as an external skeleton through which the labor of inner construction can be carried on. But the outer framework has no ultimate importance in itself and no permanence. As soon as the building is completed, the scaffolding is removed. Perhaps vocations can be understood in this light—as the matrix through which some aspect of man’s spiritual growth takes place.
Perhaps, on the other hand, vocations are not always subservient to the growth of some moral quality. Perhaps they are in themselves intrinsically necessary as realms of matter which need to be mastered by the spirit. Perhaps in each realm of activity man is learning to understand and master matter in one area of manifestation, learning to understand and work with the principles of life as they express themselves in one circle of the cosmic concentric circles. Perhaps this mastery—of medicine, music, agriculture, art—is essential to his becoming ultimately a co-creator with God, a poised, pure, and potent spirit, a harmless, radiant, loving and creative center of expression, capable himself of generating forms and lives and worlds.
Such a cosmic perspective as this is exciting. When we return to the tangible exigencies of daily life, however, we are still faced with the very practical question: How can persons who do not know their vocational past, and who have no clairvoyant insight into the central spiritual lesson of their lives make a wise vocational choice? An individual professionally interested in this problem once requested a research reading from Cayce on the subject. The question was asked whether a psychological test could be devised that would serve to make systematic exploration into the past life urges and thus give vocational guidance to persons whose previous incarnations were not specifically known. The answer indicated that an astrological chart would be helpful in many cases, but that since astrology as now generally practiced does not take into account previous earth incarnations, interspersed between astrological sojourns, the data would be to a large degree unreliable. “For,” says the reading, “in much of the populace, the proper vocation is dependent upon what the individuals have done with their astrological urges during the earth incarnations. In some cases it is in keeping with the horoscope, in others it is only partially so, in others still it is diametrically opposed, because of the earth activities.”
This information is of considerable interest and, if taken seriously, could lead to fruitful scrutiny of certain unexplored areas of astrological science. But until these areas have been charted we are left facing the same basic problem: i.e., our inability, without clairvoyant sight, to know each individual’s past incarnations, and our consequent inability to steer him to a vocational choice appropriate to his latent abilities.
Bewilderment with respect to vocational choice is extremely widespread. Like an actual physical handicap, however, this indecision may have an educative purpose; it may be necessary for the closer scrutiny of the meaning of life and of work, and a more spiritual grasp upon the meaning of selfhood in relation to other selfhoods. While some entities seem to enter the earth plane with so clear cut a vocational purpose as to manifest itself at an early age, others may be in some transitional stage which requires reformulation of concepts. Therefore they need to undergo a period of doubt and confusion, for these are always the necessary preludes to clarity and strength. This explanation for vocational bewilderment seems highly presumable from all the available evidence; though the Cayce readings here, as elsewhere, are not explicit.
In one respect, however, the information gleaned from the Cayce data has an unmistakable value: It is suggestive both of new directions for psychological research and of new attitudes in the approach to a vocational problem. Somebody once asked an Irishman if he knew how to play the violin. “I don’t know,” was the Irishman’s reply, “I’ve never tried it.” This brash answer is not so absurd as it may appear. It was made out of pure untutored wit, but a study of the Cayce readings would seem to show that it contains at the same time the distilled essence of unconscious wisdom. For no man knows what gifts lie dormant in the secret storerooms of his mind.
It is a curious fact that in banks all over the country there are millions of dollars in saving accounts whose owners in most cases have forgotten their existence. After accounts have been inactive for a certain period of time, the bank authorities make an effort to trace the depositors through their last known address. If this effort fails, the bank is obliged to place the amount of deposit in what is known as a “dormant ledger.” This is perhaps a startling fact, especially in a nation of people whose interest in money is notorious, and yet it is a true one. These dormant accounts represent a situation which is apparently comparable to the life situation of man.
The Cayce files reveal many instances where a faculty or talent had apparently lain, long forgotten, in the subconscious vaults of memory. The reading served to draw the person’s attention to that faculty; the individual’s effort to reawaken it resulted, in a surprising number of cases, in a genuine vocational competence. The facility of acquisition here constitutes an inferential argument for previous life experience along those lines. The knowledge of this fact can give all of us a sense of having a reserve force in our subconscious, much as if we had been told of a forgotten savings account in the town of our childhood. Even in a general sort of way this should be a helpful idea; to be of any practical value, however, for the choice of a vocation, the information needs to be more particularized. If clairvoyant help such as Cayce’s is available to us, we are fortunate; if not, it should be possible for us to tap the deeper layers of memory, through suggestion, hypnosis, or meditation, in order to discover in what fields our previous abilities lay.
Another mode of discovering and releasing our unknown faculties would seem to be through the practice of pursuing hobbies. Any impelling interest very probably streams from activity in a previous lifetime: an extravagant interest in things Spanish argues an incarnation in Spain; in things Chinese, an incarnation in China. The cultivation of such interests through a class in the Spanish language or a lecture course on China might serve to stir the deep unconscious memory and reawaken faculties acquired in that lifetime. It might also lead us to people with whom we have had previous connections in the same lifetime from which our common nostalgic interest springs. It is through people, principally, that the course of our life is changed. The meeting with persons with whom we have had ancient karmic ties may completely revolutionize our lives by opening up spheres of activity which otherwise would have been closed to us.
Bewilderment with respect to vocational choice can be occasioned not only by paucity of gifts, but also by versatility. It appears that some people have had so many incarnations in so many fields, and have through intense application acquired so great a competence in each, that they are torn between one and the other. Many a gifted young man or woman is tortured by the sense of indecision and aimlessness, despite the wealth of his gifts.
The logical first step in vocational choice is, of course, to take inventory of one’s abilities, be they many or few, and make a choice among the strongest of them. This is the very sensible answer of psychologists, who have devised exact measuring scales by which to gauge human talents. The Cayce readings, though they do not speak with numerical precision in such matters, subscribe to the same view as vocational psychologists, and usually indicate in highlighted form the individual’s outstanding abilities.
In cases of vocational uncertainty, however, or in cases where a special admonition seemed necessary, the readings’ underlying philosophy of vocational choice becomes apparent. Three concepts are repeated so frequently as to suggest themselves as the core of this philosophy. The first of these concepts is this: Determine your ideal, your inner life goal, and seek to accomplish it.
The formulation of ideals is an integral part of the whole Cayce philosophy of adjustment; it has special pertinence, however, with respect to vocational self-direction. The readings are insistent that one should be explicit about one’s ideals; as an aid to concrete thinking they repeatedly suggest taking a piece of paper, making three columns headed Physical, Mental, and Spiritual, and writing beneath them the highest goal to which one aspires in that department of being. Here are some typical quotations:
In analyzing yourself and your ideal, do not merely carry them in your mind, but put them down on paper. Write “Physical,” draw a line, write “Mental,” draw a line, write “Spiritual.” Put under each, beginning with the spiritual (for all that is in mind must first come from a spiritual concept), what is your spiritual concept of the ideal, whether it be Jesus, Buddha, mind, material, God or whatever is the word which indicates to you your spiritual ideals.
Then under the mental heading write the ideal mental attitude which arises from your spiritual concept, in relationship to your self, your home, your friends, your neighbors, your enemies, to things and conditions.
What is your material ideal then? . . . In this way an individual analyzes himself. Then set about to apply the knowledge you have attained.
The beginning is to determine your ideals. Set them down in black and white. Take yourself in hand and draw a picture. You’re a pretty good engineer and good at drawing pictures of other things. Did you ever try a picture of yourself? How far do you actually span from what you would like to be, or from what you would like others to think you are? What is your mental ideal? Remember that in the material plane, mind is the builder.
In short, the readings recognize that our ideals must of necessity be various, by that true integrity of being and true self-direction are possible only through the clear cut formulation of goals. From this conceptual realm our vocational choice should stem.
The second concept of the Cayce philosophy of vocational choice is this: Strive to be of service to others. How can I best be of service to humanity? should be, finally, the guiding principle of all persons as they make their vocational choice. Ultimately all of us must learn to see ourselves as cells in the body, not of a militant State, but of humanity itself. “Service to others is the highest service to God,” is a frequent refrain of the readings. “He that would be the greatest among you will be the servant of all,” is another.
That the readings consider this to be the final ideal, toward which all our temporary ideals must tend, erasure after erasure, is very explicitly seen in the following statement:
For there is only one ideal, and that is to make the Creative Energy of the Universe (called by many names) your ideal; and to make your body, your mind, and your soul an active force for service to that Energy and to your fellowmen.
As a necessary corollary to this theorem is the proposition that financial security, fame, and success in the worldly sense should be secondary to the goal of service, and that they will follow it as the wheel follows the ox. A thirteen-year-old boy who had a variety of gifts from which to select, asked: “Which of my aptitudes should I follow for the greatest success in adult life, financially?” He was told: “Forget the financial angle and consider rather which is the best outlet for the greatest contribution you can make toward making the world a better place in which to live. Efforts should never be expended purely for mercenary reasons. Pecuniary gains should come as a result of the entity’s using his abilities in the direction of being helpful.”
Another individual asked: “In what field of endeavor am I most likely to succeed financially?” He was given this reply: “Leave off the ‘financially.” Let the financial be the result of honest, sincere desire to be and live so that others may know the way also. Good gives the increase.” An exporter and importer was told: “Then let your watchword be: service to my fellowman, that those whom I contact may use my steps as a ladder to assist them, and I not using them as stepping-stones. Let fame and fortune (for both are sure to come as results) be a result of a life well spent and service well rendered, rather than using others as stepping stones to fame and fortune.”
One is reminded of the story told of the great architect, Sir Christopher Wren. It is said that one day he was passing the site of the great new cathedral of London for which he had made the design. Building was already in progress, and, curious to know how the workers regarded the task in which they were engaged, he stopped several of them in turn and asked them all the same question: “What are you doing?” The first man looked up and remarked, shortly, “I’m laying bricks.” The second said, “I’m earning a few shillings.” The third replied, “I’m helping to build a great cathedral.” It is toward the attitude of the third man, who had in view not the physical task nor the monetary reward, but the conceptual goal of beauty and well-being for all men, that the Cayce readings seek to lead those who are attempting to make a vocational choice.
The third basic concept in the Cayce vocational philosophy is this: Use that in hand; start where you are. This may seem like advice so obvious as to be unnecessary; and yet, like many other obvious truth, it is under the necessity of being restated because of the human tendency to disregard simple, nearby facts when complex and distant ones are so much more intriguing.
Many people, once they have caught the vision of service to humanity, become enveloped either in a haze of vague idealism or in a flurry of anxious zeal. Their new perspective on life’s purpose may catch them in the middle of a worldly career from which there is no practicable way of extricating themselves; their responsibilities to a family or financial barriers which prohibit the acquisition of specialized training seemingly exclude them from fulfilling their newly conceived sense of mission. It is people such as these that the readings frequently find it necessary to remind of the fact that one can only use what one has at hand. A journey of a thousand miles begins with one step; that step must be taken from the point at which one now stands.
The following illustrative extracts are typical. A woman of forty-nine asks: “What is my true life work?” and is told: “Encouraging the weak and the faint; giving strength and courage to those who have faltered.” “How may I get into this work?” she asks next. “Do today the things your hand find to do!” she is told. “What do you see in store for me and where would it be best for me to fulfill my destiny?” she persists. “What have you in hand today?” the reading reiterates. “Use that which you have where you are. Let Him guide your ways. Put yourself into His hands. You be the channel; don’t tell Him where you would like to work or labor or serve or be served! Say, rather, “Lord, I am yours. Use me as you see fit.’”
Another woman is preoccupied with the same matter. She is sixty-one, the wife of a former consul to one of the north European countries, with a long and varied life of travel in the Orient and much artistic and religious study behind her. “Please give a detailed account as to how I can best serve humanity,” she asks. The answer given her is substantially the same. “In those ways that open to you day by day. It isn’t always the individual that plans to accomplish some great deed that does the most. It is the one who meets the opportunities and privileges which are accorded it day by day. As such opportunities are used, there are better ways opened. For what we use in the way of helpfulness to others, increases in itself.” “Begin where you are!” another person is told. “Be what you should be where you are! And when you have proven yourself, He will give you better ways!”
This philosophy of practical economy—known to every capable housewife who must make the most of what she has to work with—is applicable not only to persons who suddenly have discovered that they wish to be of service to humanity; it is applicable also to all persons who long for great achievement of any kind. It seems, in fact, that the readings’ endless insistence on using that in hand and starting where you are is an effort to counteract two tendencies in human nature: the paralysis of short-view ignorance, and the paralysis of long-view knowledge.
Many a man knows exactly what accomplishment in art or science of politics he would like to achieve, but—because of a mistaken, materialistic myopia—becomes discouraged and inactive; his goal seems impossible of attainment. Out of his ignorance of the continuity of life and of effort, he does not realize that time is unimportant and that what is begun in one life often finds fruition in the next. By the illusory restrictions of time, it may be admittedly impossible for him to become a great musician in the present lifetime; but if he permits this thought to paralyze his will to such an extent that he drops music completely, he thereby puts himself at a standstill and leaves just that much undone for other incarnations. If, however, he applied that long-view wisdom compressed into the admonition, use that in hand; start where you are, his paralysis is dissolved and his energies liberated in the proper direction.
On the other hand there are many persons who become intellectually excited at the tremendous vista of progress opened up to them by the reincarnation principle, yet do not translate this mental enthusiasm into daily practical conduct. Many Theosophists and Anthroposophists become so engrossed in the study of the cosmic laws under which spiritual evolution operates that they forget that their own spiritual progress is not automatically taken care of through the knowledge of the laws thereof. They are much like a man who is so engrossed in studying a road map that he never starts on a trip. Abstractions have become so much their life blood that when it comes to performing some actual transmutation of character of some useful service to mankind, they are conspicuous by their intellectual absence. It is not only Theosophists and Anthroposophists who are guilty of this frailty, of course; even before the time of Hamlet, inaction has notoriously been the sin of philosophers.
In the three principles which seem to be the core of the Cayce vocational philosophy, we find that the unobstructed cosmic outlook on human destiny of the readings is completely balanced by down-to-earth common sense. There is, of course, no reason why the knowledge of reincarnation should unhinge anyone’s mental equilibrium; on the contrary, there is every reason why it should render his every decision saner and sounder because it is made in accordance with an ethical and cosmic frame of reference. It is true that the first acquaintance with the reincarnation idea and its vast expansion of horizons is sometimes so inflating that it leads people to begin soaring without the necessary ballast of common sense. A study of the Cayce philosophy of vocations should correct any misconception on this score, and demonstrate that no matter how all-embracing one’s concept of human destiny becomes, the fact still remains that self-perfection is a slow, daily, inch-by-inch progress.
Moreover, one is constantly reminded by the Cayce readings that whatever one’s circumstances may be, they are completely appropriate to one’s inner stage of unfoldment. Even though they may seem to be an obstacle to the practice of one’s true vocation in life, one must recognize them as stepping stones rather than stumbling stones. The only way to change outer circumstances is through the patient alteration of one’s self upon the resistant material of those circumstances, such as to be worthy of better ones. Says one reading:
Know this: that whatever situation you find yourself in, it is what is necessary for your development. An entity must apply in its associations from day to day a word here and a word there, one today, another tomorrow and the next day, with the understanding that from such activities in word and deed, self-development will come.
Little by little, brick upon brick, is the structure built. By words of mouth, by little acts day by day, an individual gives expression to its discernment and builds surely towards a complete expression of its knowledge, of its latent abilities, and of its true purpose. When an entity has prepared itself through constant forward movement towards service, the necessary circumstances for change will come about so that he may see the next step, the next opportunity.
Build, then, with that in hand, little by little, line upon line. Haste not and be not over-anxious; for is not the whole of the building of His making? . . .
Excerpt from Many Mansions