William T S Thackara

Writing was never part of my career plan, which originally was to train for law.  My real education, however, began in a decisive way in the spring of 1968 when I read Plato’s account of Socrates’ trial, the Apology.  I was agnostic in most every sense of the word: college educated, book learned, filled with the thoughts of others, short on intuition and experience, and generally buying into the “you-only-live-once” theory.  The disparities, cruelties, and unfairness of life had drained belief in a benevolent and omnipotent Deity — after all, scripture and dogma were hearsay, just as were (for me) the ever-evolving theories of science.  Cosmic and biological evolution made sense but, given the staggering complexity of even a single cell, I wondered if anyone really knew how things evolved.  Or what really happens when we die.  I certainly didn’t, but these seemed important to know if possible.
    At the high point of his defense, Socrates uttered the words that changed my life: “the unexamined life is not worth living.”  So began the dialog and the journey.  I was unconcerned about outcome, which would have prejudiced it.  The goal was to find truth.  The method was to empty presumption and false belief, ask questions, follow the trail of evidence, challenge accepted theories and truth claims, learn, give, contribute, and let the results reveal themselves naturally in the progress of time. 
    I returned to UCLA in 1969 as a philosophy major, only to discover that logical positivism was dominant and questions of ultimate concern were rarely of concern, at least in the classroom.  Science was well represented, but courses in religious studies were then practically nil, which led to a grass-roots campaign to establish a departmental program in the field.  Universities are supposed to study the universe; so how, with religion a major part of human life, could its comprehensive study be avoided?  I became involved and was appointed to the faculty religious studies committee, serving first as a student member and, after graduation in 1970, as an administrative assistant dean of students. 
    After two years of research and deliberation, the committee made its recommendation to the university (budget constraints dictated that an interdepartmental major be founded), leaving me once again at a crossroads.  But the choice was by then obvious: it was time to leave UCLA and join the Theosophical Society’s international headquarters in Pasadena, California, where I’ve worked ever since in various capacities, including lecturing and occasional writing.
    But why theosophy?  The simplest answer is that the trail of evidence led there.  Its bona fides are inherent, as serious and persevering study will disclose.  One theosophical leader, James A. Long, put it this way: “A philosophy that doesn’t work is no good.”  Over 50 years later, I have yet to be shown a more comprehensive, intellectually consistent, sensible, and practical worldview that speaks better to heart and mind.