by Gina Cerminara

Certainly there is nothing new in the thought that balance is important in human life. As long as men have been riding horses they have known that balance—equilibrium—is essential to successful horsemanship. Whether a man have for his sport swimming, bowling, wrestling, tennis, or golf, he knows that balance is necessary for good form and good performance.

Balance in the sense of proportion or symmetry was known to the ancient Greeks; in fact, principles of balance in this sense have been applied consciously or instinctively throughout all the history of art by any artist worthy of the name.

The idea of justice has been symbolized for many centuries by a seated figure holding a pair of scales or of balances; and in the same connotation we speak of being weighed in the balance and found wanting.

So if we say that one of the most significant ideas to emerge from the reincarnation data of the Cayce files is the idea of balance, it might well seem, at first sight, a contribution of little originality or importance.

And yet, though the concept is not original, it appears here in a new, important, and dynamic frame of reference. In fact, the word takes on an almost transformative power if we dwell on its full implications long enough.

The idea first appears in the Cayce readings having to do with physical health, and one of its primary applications has to do with diet. Cayce’s insistent counsel in this regard ran parallel to the growing realization among medical men of the importance of a balanced diet. His concept did not differ radically from those currently held by most authorities in the field: the necessity of a proportionate distribution of necessary elements such as proteins, fats, starches, and carbohydrates to satisfy all the needs of the body. He recognized the importance of an acid-alkali balance, and pointed out that persons leading sedentary lives need more alkali-reacting foods and fewer starches and sweets. He also agreed with the view, more and more widely held, that fried foods, refined sugars and starches, carbonated drinks, and artificial foods generally are to be avoided. The whole question of diet is an interesting one and the Cayce material in this area can be studied with profit; however, it is not our principal interest here, except insofar as it has to do with balance.

Balance is stressed in the physical readings in still another sense: namely the balance between assimilations and eliminations. In one physical reading he says: “This condition has to do with the assimilations and eliminations of the body. This should be a warning to all bodies as to such conditions; for if the eliminations and the assimilations were kept more nearly normal in the human family, the days might be extended to whatever period as was so desired; for the system is built by the assimilation of that which it takes within, and is able to bring resuscitation as long as the eliminations do not hinder. . . . When eliminations are co-ordinating, and assimilations are co-ordinating, the physical body is a normal, healthy body.”

Much disease could be avoided, he makes clear in a number of similar passages, if there were more complete eliminations of waste materials through all the eliminatory systems of the body, and it was to this end that he so frequently recommended colonic irrigations, sweat baths, and the like. Moreover, the life of the body could not only be indefinitely prolonged, as indicated in the above passage, but—what is equally important—could be kept young and beautiful if there were no accumulation of wastes in the cells and tissues.

These ideas are corroborated by the findings of Alexis Carrel in regard to the problem of aging. Carrel points out that if the cells could be kept clean of the accumulation of wastes—if the intake, in short, did not gradually outbalance the outgo—there would be no slowing down or aging process, and no structural changes. The chicken heart which he kept alive over a period of years was kept alive because of the optimum conditions for cell life artificially created, and the perfect balance of the two processes, ingoing and outgoing.

A third application of the idea of balance is seen in Cayce’s repeated allusions, in diagnosing a variety of conditions, to “an imbalance between the sympathetic and cerebro-spinal systems.” To correct this imbalance a variety of methods was recommended in different cases, including physical adjustments by osteopathic or chiropractic physicians, diet, hydrotherapy, electrotherapy, etc. The data in these cases is sometimes of a technical nature and therefore of little practical use to the layman, except suggestively, though it could be very helpful to physicians in both the diagnosis and treatment of disease.

However, the concept of balance in the first two senses—namely, a balance in diet and balance between intake and eliminations—can be a practical guide to all persons in their daily living. Every man can be his own physician in a sense, or rather his own preserver from the need of a physician, if he takes to heart this counsel and devotes some study and attention to the matter.

In a reading taken once on spiritual healing, Cayce said: “The physical body is an atomic structure subject to the laws of its environment, its heredity, and its soul development. . . . If in the atomic forces there comes an overbalancing, an injury, an accident, there are certain atomic forces destroyed or others increased. . . . Then it becomes necessary to bring a balance about each of the atomic centers. . . .” He goes on to say that no matter what method of healing is used, a resuscitation of the atomic centers and thus the restoration of balance must be achieved.

On the basis of this and numerous other comparable passages, one might well conclude that balance is the cornerstone of a philosophy of health and of healing.

But health is not only a physical problem; it is also psychological. And on the psychological level, too, balance is important, not only in one but in many senses of the word.

For one thing, it soon becomes clear that no psychological extreme is healthy. The Greeks knew this long ago; Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides all wrote tragic dramas on this very theme. Buddha discovered it also; neither excess of pleasure nor excess of asceticism led him to the peace and enlightenment he sought. The middle path, the way of moderation, seems to be truly the way of wisdom.

Most thoughtful and relatively mature people will agree that this is a reasonable idea; but even those people who recognize its reasonability can consciously or unconsciously violate it in their own lives. It usually takes repeated painful experiences even to realize the folly of excess in so obvious a thing as overeating. Many people have suffered more than half a lifetime of painful indigestions and nauseas before they have learned, once and for all, not to eat too much fudge or too much potato salad. Many other people pay for the learning of temperance with chronic or acute disease.

How much more difficult is it then for people to learn moderation with respect to intangibles of the mind and spirit, where extremes do not always punish us so immediately! What makes the matter all the more difficult is that even those qualities that are commonly regarded as virtues can be practiced to excess also. And, partly because we have been taught for so long that they are virtues, partly because of a strongly entrenched self-discipline or habit, we become obtuse to the fact that we have carried them to excess. Sometimes, in fact, entire lifetimes must pass before the sin of our virtue carried to excess becomes apparent to us.

Independence, for example, is commonly regarded as a desirable state of being and a goal to be achieved by all self-respecting countries and individuals. To be “self-determined” is one of the aims of Scientologists and, in the sense in which they are using it, there is no doubt that theirs is a valid concept. But too much independence and too much self-determinism can be just as bad as too much dependence or other-determinism—especially if selfishness or the ego becomes involved.

An interesting case in point is that of a woman whose past-life history includes two experiences in which the attitude of independence became more and more deeply ingrained. The first one was in England at the time of Cromwell when she was a spinster school teacher; the second, and more recent, was in Jamestown and Williamsburg when, again as a woman, she was “among those that helped in establishing the tenets of self-government.” Cayce goes on to say that the entity “gained in the experience—gained until there arose self-indulgence in the activity . . . and the feeling that there should be the rule of self irrespective of another.”

He then comments that wherever there is individual activity there must also be thought taken of the other people involved, and continues by saying: “In the present we find an influence of independency in this entity, and the tendency for this to make for experiences of consternation and disturbances. For one may become too independent as well as too dependent upon others, situations, conditions—whether these pertain to the material, the mental, or the spiritual.”

The woman acknowledged to the present writer that this was one of the most revealing and helpful sentences of the entire reading; that for the first time she became aware of this tendency within herself and of the fact that it was this, in fact, that had alienated people from her, both in conversation and in several basic life situations.

She began to correct it, making an almost painful effort to accept favors where before she had refused them, or to receive assistance in situations where before she had regarded it as a point of honor to be sternly self-sufficient. Her relations with people and especially with men became much more easy and happy as a result.

Another interesting case is that of a man who once must have ardently desired complete independence of action—and had achieved it, as an Egyptian ruler of almost unlimited power. He had absolute control not only over his subjects but also over the spiritual leaders of the time. The total independence which becomes the lot of the rich and the powerful was his; but, as so often happens, it was abused, which is to say, it was used by the ego rather than impersonally.

In the present lifetime this same entity is the director of a benevolent organization which is not privately endowed and which must rely on the good will, the financial donations, and the personal help of many persons all over the country. He finds himself in the situation of having to avail himself of volunteer help whenever he can, without offending by refusal those who are willing but inept; having to accept hospitality and assistance from some who might wish to dictate policies or procedure; and adjust the demands of many varying personalities to the best needs of the organization as a whole. His position, in short, despite the fact that he is a leader in a position of authority, is largely one of dependence; it requires the utmost of diplomacy and tact and the selfless consideration of the long-range interests of many other people besides himself.

Life has placed him in an inescapable position where he must be dependent upon some of those same people whom he “pushed around,” as the expressive colloquialism has it, in the past. In this way a just balance between independence and dependence is gradually being achieved.

To be sure, all of us need ultimately to become self-sufficient and complete within ourselves—having the full attributes of God and needing nothing outside ourselves. But as long as we are in human form it is well to remember that mutual interdependence is a fact of nature, the honest and willing acknowledgment of which is the only sensible and gracious approach. Trees breathe in the noxious atmosphere that we breathe out; for our very breathing the trees and we are mutually interdependent. The whole earth planet exhibits this same kind of mutual interaction and usefulness; and so, no doubt, does the entire cosmos. We are members of one another, as Paul puts it; the eyes may perform their seeing with beautiful rectitude and independence; but is it only a seeming independence, because without the mouth and the stomach they could not function at all. In the same way do human occupations and talents supplement each other; and at one point or another all of us must acknowledge our dependence, even as instruments in a great symphonic orchestra.

Balance in the sense of equipoise, then, is necessary between too great independence and too great dependence. It is necessary, in fact, between any of the opposite polarities of quality, between which we must walk as warily as a tightrope walker upon his high-stretched rope.

“Do not be over-democratic; neither too self-sufficient,” Cayce counsels one individual. “There is a medium ground on which all may meet.”

To another he says: “Never think too highly of yourself, and never belittle yourself too much.”

Even selflessness, it seems, can be overdone. Selflessness, like independence, is generally regarded as a virtue to be striven for—especially among those who are spiritually rather than psychologically oriented. In fact, to become selfless is one of the principal messages of the Cayce readings. So it is almost surprising to find that Cayce himself remarking in a number of instances that selflessness can be excessive. An examination of some of these cases shows that there are varying psychological reasons for this.

In one case, a woman was told that in a past life she was the wife of a distinguished man whom everybody praised and admired; her own gifts and influence went largely unappreciated. This caused in her a sense of self-belittlement which persisted into the present. “This is what must be overcome,” Cayce says. “For while selflessness is the law, to belittle oneself is actually a form of selfishness, and not selflessness.”

In another similar case the danger of the tendency for self-belittlement is explained more explicitly. “You are one,” he tells the woman, “that is prone to belittle its own abilities—and this is seldom found. But there should be a greater desire in you for the expression of yourself and your undertakings and your knowledge. True, one must become selfless; but to have knowledge and withhold it from others is not always best.”

It becomes clear from cases like this that the basic attitude of humility and selflessness which could be formulated by the phrase I am not important can lead to negativity—and hence to sins of omission, to the failure to make a positive contribution to the lives of others when one has the knowledge and the insight to do so. This may be related to the fear of being rejected or the fear of not being highly thought of; and whatever is tinged with fear shows the absence of love. Hence such a selflessness is not perfect.

A totally different picture is found in the case of a woman osteopath who asked at the end of her reading: “How may I be of more service to my patients and human beings in general?”

Cayce’s answer ran as follows:

“This may not sound just right. It may sound like a selfish approach. But when the abilities and activities of this entity are deeply considered, this counsel will be seen to be proper. For in all spiritual activities, there must be first the individual and then the group. There must be first service to oneself; then there is a better flow of the coordinating activities of life and vitality, and thus a better fitting of the body for service to patients and mankind in general.”

In this case the formulation of selflessness, I am not important, had led in turn to the formulation, I must help others, not myself. But neglect of oneself can lead not only to diminished vitality and helpfulness to others, but also to the thwarting of one’s own evolution. To neglect oneself and one’s own progress in the name of helping others may thus be a dodging of responsibility; a form of inertia, perhaps. Or it may be related to neurotic compulsions, guilt feelings, or overcompensation of one kind or another.

To be self-regarding, it seems, is just as important as to be other-regarding; an excess in either direction may be symptomatic of other defects of character, and may lead to serious imbalances that will require painful correction sooner or later in the soul’s long education.

Excerpt from The World Within