C. S. Lewis

From Sahaja Yoga Encyclopedia


The other day I described to them the procession that was described by one of the English poets in his vision he saw our procession and when I told them they are very happy that already an English poet like Lewis could see these points and written in such details the whole description. But that book has not arrived in India, Vision. It is a beautiful book, and I would request the Australians too, if possible to make some copies of that and handed it over, at least the typed copies, in Southara or in Sangli somehow if you have the book with you and give it to them. (1986-12-27)

When that happens to you, you start growing very much fast. First in your dharma. And you are not afraid of your virtues. You tell people, you talk about Sahaja Yoga, everywhere and it works, it clicks. Once you don’t have any fear, the whole picture will be clear to you because you become a visionary, what we call in Sanskrit drashtas. Like, see how C.S. Lewis could see our position, how could William Blake predict our future, how could Gyaneshwara write about pasaigar, which is a description of all the Sahaja yogis? But all the time He’s saying, “Now you get up and work and do this because you are that, and you have got it.” He is trying to assure people all the time. How could Rabindranath Tagore see our going to Ganapatipule? How could it happen? It happens only when people are of enlightened faith. In enlightened faith your Mother gives you another very great power, is of discretion. Of discretion. (1994-10-09)

It’s so surprising that there’s a poet called Lewis. He has written, I don’t know if you have read it or not, have you brought that? I wish you had. About the procession he saw in India of you people, you haven’t got it? How many of you have read that? That’s very exclusive! Surprising, nobody has that. All right, tomorrow. Remember all that you have to get from there. Mr. Djamel has to bring many things, I think. (1986-08-02)

Excerpt from "The Great Divorce" (1945)


The reason why I asked if there were another river was this. All down one long aisle of the forest the under-sides of the leafy branches had begun to tremble with dancing light; and on earth, I knew nothing so likely to produce this appearance as the reflected lights cast upward by moving water. A few moments later I realized my mistake. Some kind of procession was approaching us, and the light came from the persons who composed it.

First came bright Spirits, not the Spirits of men, who danced and scattered flowers-soundlessly falling, lightly drifting flowers, though by the standards of the ghost-world each petal would have weighed a hundred-weight and their fall would have been like the crashing of boulders. Then, on the left and right, at each side of the forest avenue, came youthful shapes, boys upon one hand, and girls upon the other. If I could remember their singing and write down the notes, no man who read that score would ever grow sick or old. Between them went musicians: and after these a lady in whose honor all this was being done.

I cannot now remember whether she was naked or clothed. If she were naked, then it must have been the almost visible penumbra of her courtesy and joy which produces in my memory the illusion of a great and shining train that followed her across the happy grass. If she were clothed, then the illusion of nakedness is doubtless due to the clarity with which her inmost spirit shone through the clothes. For clothes in that country are not a disguise: the spiritual body lives along each thread and turns them into living organs. A robe or a crown is there as much one of the wearer's features as a lip or an eye.

But I have forgotten. And only partly do I remember the unbearable beauty of her face. "Is it? ... is it?" I whispered to my guide. "Not at all," said he. "It's someone ye'll never have heard of. Her name on earth was Sarah Smith and she lived at Golders Green." "She seems to be ... well, a person of particular importance?" "Aye. She is one of the great ones. Ye have heard that fame in this country and fame on Earth are two quite different things." "And who are these gigantic people . . . look! They're like emeralds . . . who are dancing and throwing flowers before her?" "Haven't ye read your Milton? A thousand livened angels lackey her," "And who are all these young men and women on each side?"

"They are her sons and daughters." "She must have had a very large family, Sir." "Every young man or boy that met her became her son-even if it was only the boy that brought the meat to her back door. Every girl that met her was her daughter."

"Isn't that a bit hard on their own parents?" "No. There are those that steal other people's children. But her motherhood was of a different kind. Those on whom it fell went back to their natural parents loving them more. Few men looked on her without becoming, in a certain fashion, her lovers. But it was the kind of love that made them not less true, but truer, to their own wives."

"And how ... but hullo! What are all these animals? A cat-two cats-dozens of cats. And all those dogs . . . why, I can't count them. And the birds. And the horses." "They are her beasts." "Did she keep a sort of zoo? I mean, this is a bit too much."

"Every beast and bird that came near her had its place in her love. In her they became themselves. And now the abundance of life she has in Christ from the Father flows over into them." I looked at my Teacher in amazement. "Yes," he said. "It is like when you throw a stone into a pool, and the concentric waves spread out further and further. Who knows where it will end? Redeemed humanity is still young, it has hardly come to its full strength.

But already there is joy enough in the little finger of a great saint such as yonder lady to waken all the dead things of the universe into life."


Clive Staples Lewis (29 November 1898 – 22 November 1963) was a British novelist, poet, academic, medievalist, literary critic, essayist, lay theologian, broadcaster, lecturer, and Christian apologist. He held academic positions at both Oxford University (Magdalen College), 1925–1954, and Cambridge University (Magdalene College), 1954–1963. He is best known for his fictional work, especially The Screwtape Letters, The Chronicles of Narnia, and The Space Trilogy, and for his non-fiction Christian apologetics, such as Mere Christianity, Miracles, and The Problem of Pain.