CHAPTER FOURTEEN
If God sends out his Sons and future coadjutors in the work of his cosmic enterprise, to be born, bred and adorned summa cum laude with the laurels of wisdom in the lap and the school of his fond Mother Nature, the question for our intelligence arises: Whence did this infallible instructress derive the wisdom and the knowledge to serve as her children’s teacher? If the right answer to this query can be divined, we shall be able to solve a score of the riddles that have perplexed the philosophical genius of the race for ages. If true knowledge is available here, enlightened thinking processes may proceed to build the house of philosophy more beautifully.
The many philosophical citations that have been marshaled in review in the study have openly expressed or implicitly intimated some aspects of fundamental truth. But to a disappointing degree, they have lacked conclusive demonstration. They so vaguely savor of the character of "pretty theory." The grand fact is that Mother Nature has the requisite elements to instruct her man-child in the essential principia of truth, because she is herself the truth, the actuality of the cosmic Father’s mind. And this is so because, as wise ancients have told us, this cosmic divine mind, wishing to behold its archetypal ideas concretely pictured before it, stamped those ideas upon the face and form of the body of nature. There they stand in sculptured forms before our eyes, needing only to be properly read.
If, as our diagram represents, mind and matter both emanated primordially out of the same womb of being, they were both expressions of the same one thing, the one positive, the other negative. The same being was expressed in the one case concretely, in the other ideally. The cosmic mind had stamped its thoughts upon something that would hold their form and image long enough to be contemplated with satisfaction and a workman’s artistic delight in his craftmanship. God, as Sri Aurobindo declared, was free to indulge his fancy in the delights of creative activity. If we put God under bondage of any kind, we surrender our own freedom with it, for we are ourselves, in our place and function, involved in God’s doing. As this will becomes the ordinance of universal life, it is the business of us his children to catch the spirit of his creative impulse; indeed our happiness depends upon our harmonizing our whole effort with it. This necessarily involves the duty of our learning more and more clearly what the will and the spirit of the Father’s Lila is. This objective can be achieved only by our associating ourselves heartily and sympathetically with the actual creative process, as it is enacted before us.
We have, then, the divine mind producing its universe according to the pattern of its wishes and its ideas. Everything generated in the grand procedure bears the stamp of its purpose and its meaning. The naive human sense does not miss the truth of this matter, nor does the most involved sophistication negate this simple judgment. But deepest thought holds that God beholds himself as in a mirror, as he gazes upon the product of his mind and hand. This conception emboldened Kant to say that only God could know the things that he had made. But his children are created in his likeness and image; are they to remain forever incapable of knowing these things also?
Here is the turn or crux of the situation that reflection has not squarely enough faced--or so it would appear. Philosophical speculation has not studiously enough followed the nuances of the problem as it shifted from God’s knowledge to ours. High as the heavens are above the earth are God’s thoughts above ours, the Scriptures admonish us. Nevertheless those same Scriptures
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enjoin upon us the necessity of gaining the wisdom and understanding essential to our basic happiness. They even exhort us to a perfection like unto the Father’s. The certainly of our ability to achieve knowledge is a postulate of our sonship in God’s family. "My Father worketh hitherto, and I work," says the type-figure of our filial relation to God. He has set his children down in the midst of his infinitely diversified creation and made their happiness contingent upon their mastery of its laws, modes and meanings. Hence our task definitely is to gaze upon, to live with, and to absorb into our consciousness the thoughts of the mind of God as revealed in his creation. St. Paul most beautifully says that as we behold the glory of the Lord reflected in his works, we are transformed into the same glory.
But the Western mentality has not caught the benignant glow of God’s reflection in nature because errant theological doctrinism turned his gaze away from the mirror where the glory was reflected and fixed it upon a region where it was not to be found. Ideas of the "malignancy of matter," the evil power of the world, contempt for nature, all thrust their darksome shadows between the mind and nature and cut the mind off from the radiance. Religious percussions prevented the Western mind from holding the mirror up to nature; instead sought to hold it up to the void of imagined heavenly realities. If God looked to nature to catch the reflected glory of his own mind and found delight therein, it is obvious that if his children are to partake of their due measure of that same delight, they must find it in looking steadily upon the same world.
And now, with so much of the foundation laid, reflection brings us at this point to a conclusion of the most momentous significance, one based solidly on the premises both of nature and of logic. On the basis of the Scriptural doctrine that God’s progeny are made in his own image and likeness, and the validation then of the thesis that both parent and offspring possess similar or at least analogous qualities and attributes, there is every legitimate ground for deducing the truth of the proposition that the laws of nature are the operation of God’s unconscious mind.
If man is an epitome of the cosmos, if he is a seed unit of God’s life, the similarity between Father and Son must prevail throughout, extend to all areas. The inference then that god has a subconscious, as well as a conscious, mind derives from man’s possession of two such minds; otherwise the analogy would fail of truth. For God and man alike the law would operate according to what man has discovered of his own psychic processes. This law prescribes that what the conscious mind thinks often enough is taken over by the mechanism of the subconscious and becomes fixed as what goes by the name of habit. The effective factor here is repetition. An act of consciousness repeated often enough becomes a fixation. It, so to say, causes the first impression upon plastic substance to harden for permanency. Even a single impression of a thought upon consciousness, psychologists assure us, is never forgotten. A fortiori, mentation that is many times repeated or held steadily or vividly in consciousness, becomes established as a fixed operation of the unconscious. God’s archetypal creative thought-forms, then, were stamped upon the plastic protyle of the universe and became the unalterable, the so-called immutable, fixations of the creative will.
Next a corollary of this startling denouement of the rationale leaps into mind with astonishing force for what it implies in the domain of all world religion. It is the realization of the fact that all subconscious operations carry on without the conscious awareness or attention of the conscious mind. This is clearly true for man; it must therefore be true also for God. The staggering conclusion that emerges from this train of logic is that God is
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giving no conscious attention to the running of the natural order of the universe, with the subsidiary implication that human prayers could not possibly alter the course of nature in any special way for man’s behoof. The underlying presupposition of the prayer motive is that God consciously hears and answers petitions.
The alternative question whether God could or would or might or actually does hear his children’s prayers and give his conscious attention to them and might then initiate changes in the order already fixed by habit is something for religious speculation. Proponents of the prayer cultus readily cite the Scripture’s assurance that not a sparrow falls without the Father’s notice. But as it appears that the Deity has arranged to take care of all essential processes and details of the salutary natural order through his fixed laws, the sparrow’s fall could still be a part of his mental action, though subconsciously. Again, that God manages the natural order through his subconscious habitudes, but gives his conscious attention to his dealing with things in the spiritual order, might be argued. And in the theological systematism as formulated by the great Medieval Doctor, Thomas Aquinas, the position taken is that God is free to interpose his conscious mind in the working of the "immutable" natural law, and change it if such is his pleasure or whim.
In one way or another, by logic or in spite of it, the human mind, at least at the "average" level, clings to the belief that Deity hears and answers our prayers, that he can not be deaf to our needs and our pitiable cries. But as far as logic that is grounded on the obvious premises can carry the human mind, it would appear to be futile for man to appeal to God to alter, suspend, redirect his own immutable laws. When the whole question is considered in the context of a larger view, even under the most indulgent concession to the prayer motive, would it not be unconscionably presumptuous on the part of man collectively--and how infinitely more so for one or a few individuals--to beseech God to intervene, to thrust out his mighty arm and hold up, tamper with, switch or juggle with or inhibit the normal established run of his cosmic operation? Even the thought of such a thing shocks any balanced thinker’s sense of fitness and proportion.
Yet the prayer cult can still justify itself on the analogy of the God-Mind with the mental nature of man. For if it is possible for a human to bring the power of his conscious mind, will and resolution to change a long-fixated habit, certainly God could not be denied the same power. The pious posture of the religious mind will never endorse the view that God has become a helpless prisoner of his own laws. If he made those laws, and is omnipotent, surely he can change them, is the attitude of religion. But again the positivist can advance the riposte that the present cosmic order is the one God did ordain as the expression of his mind and will, and it is so vast and so inextricably interwoven in all its stupendous mechanism that the idea of his being entreated to change a single item or detail at the plea of one of his prodigious family of mortals is preposterous beyond all other crazy hallucinations that have in all ages obsessed the religious mind. Then, too, how can our minds conceive of any power of consciousness that could give careful consideration to millions of petitions that, as world religion stands, are being addressed to it at virtually every moment of time? If the God-mind is not supposed to take care justly of all phases of the operation of his cosmic plans by the instrumentality of his subconscious habitudes and ordinances, then, on the supposition that he does consciously hear and answer prayers, it is obvious that this service to his children would consume all his time, leaving him no time for other use of his conscious mind. Unless there is in the case some absolute transcendence that overrides and nullifies all that the word "logic" means for mankind, it is obvious that the prayer addiction runs out into dead ends of the most incredible absurdity and
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illogicality at every turn. Yet despite all this, it is not an infatuation for the human mind to trust that God is in full charge of his universal order, and that justice rules the order. A sane and considerate philosophical attitude of an intelligent mind, it would seem, would be that it is impertinent on our part to presume to remind God of his obligations.
Had not ancient arcane philosophy been forgotten, occult wisdom would have obviated the predicaments involved in the above discussion. The sagacious Greek esotericism declared that "the gods distribute divinity," allotting to each mortal his due share. The enlightening solution to all the questions posed is found in the knowledge that God has implanted a unit portion of his divine consciousness in the heart and soul of every son of man, itself competent to take care of all the individual’s problems. Why bother the central intelligence of the universe with a person’s petty interests and woes, when an accredited agent of that intelligence is already and unfailingly at hand for all needed help? The infinite tragedy of most religion has been that distorted theological conceptions have almost entirely turned the focus of human attention away from the presence of the agent at his post in the consciousness of every mortal and directed it out into the vacancies of an egregious hallucination. The tragedy here springs from the sad fact that for the mortal to pray to the imagined head of the cosmos, while neglecting to deal with the agent duly commissioned to handle all exigencies, breeds neurotic instability, even psychotic derangement, permitting the life to grope helplessly in darkness and confusion. The psychologist Jung has certified these disastrous effects of religious misconceptions.
As has been hinted at herein before, religion has regarded the natural order as at enmity with spiritual evolution. Hence its culture of miracle, its demand on God that he obviate the inexorability of nature and set aside his laws for our benefit. But true religion and undefiled should all along have had the wisdom to realize that infinitely more precious to man than any breach of nature for special blessings is the complete dependability he can put upon natural law. Pietism has even carried minds all the way to the delusion that holiness and surrender to God’s will can lift the righteous devotee above the reach of the natural law, granting him complete absolution from the order of life under nature and absolute freedom to revel in the "liberty of the Sons of God." But this is a fatuity that would prove disastrous, since it would disrupt the harmonious order of human life and lead directly to the chaotic clash and confusion of individual wills disturbing the balance of things. Human wills do clash at all times, it can be argued; but the natural order tends always to readjust the forces and reestablish balance. If the natural law could be superseded by individual wills, there would be chaos indeed. If the harmonious order of the world were to be rendered subject to interference by individual piety, the resulting chaos would soon drive us back to letting nature take its own course. If all individual prayers were answered, the world would be a madhouse. An observation of Hegel’s is of great import here. As he considers all nature as the manifestation of the presence, power and purposes of the divine mind, he says that the divine action in the world is the restoration and expression of the oneness of life, uniting in one association nature, man and God. Hence, he says, "miracle is the supreme disservice." For miracle would break into and disrupt this beneficent relationship.
When thought can be profound enough, it is seen that nearly all questions of epistemology, psychology, indeed of our life as a whole, hinge upon what is the reality behind the common concept of the human soul. The ancient mind postulated the existence of an entity or distinctive unit of conscious being which comprehended in itself the essence, the power and the reality of our existence. The modern mind is by no means certain of this postulation, by tradition
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concedes its existence on the religious side of common thought, but is quite sceptical of it on the side of science. On the basis of the predicated sevenfold physical-psychic-spiritual constitution of man, the ancients could deal with such an entity in a mental schematism that fitted it harmoniously into its place in the seven. As suggested by our diagram, it was a unit of sublimated material composition, that stood at the midpoint of the seven, and became the instrument of egoic consciousness because it equilibrated in itself the forces of both matter and spirit. Only under such conditions could consciousness become objectified to itself.
Working under the terms of this situation, the deep-prying ancient intelligence was able to arrive at many determinations regarding the facts of psychic life to which the modern mind, laboring without a foundation of this sort, has no clues. Such questions as the tabula rasa, innate ideas, a preestablished harmony between mind and the world and in fact all a priori postulations can be seen to have rational status and explanation under the terms of the ancient arcana of knowledge. If one does not know what the soul is, or whether it is a fresh creation of life at the birth of the present personality, or whether it can exist beyond the demise of the body, one lacks grounds for understanding and premises for thought. If, on the other hand, one accepts the claimed knowledge of the ancient savants and finds that the conclusions to which, on those premises, logic leads the mind comport harmoniously with the living experience of the soul in the world, one at least has in hand a systematism that consistently withstands the pragmatic test. If one has found a schematism that successfully meets the pragmatic test, it is generally considered determinative. We can hardly ask more of any theory than the "practical" demonstration that it "works." And if it works, it must be presumed to have established its validity. Any more finally authoritative criterion that might be demanded would entail an ultimate determination of the terms "it works," and "validity" themselves. This would take us into a regression so deep that all possible question of what constitutes "knowledge" would be well-nigh indeterminable.
If, then, we are discovering that there was extant in what we still regard as "ancient" times of a few thousand years ago a comprehensive system of psycho-spiritual arcana and esoteric knowledge that has in our day at least won the distinction of being acclaimed as the "perennial philosophy," and is definitely seen to have been the primary source of our Scriptures and our most widely accepted religio-philosophical traditions, we are at least challenged to see if the principia of that systematism do not yield to investigation answers and solutions of basic problems more rationally acceptable than those achievable on the grounds of either conventional orthodoxies in religion or the speculations of philosophy or the current predications of science. And in this investigation we are morally challenged to see if, in the context of the great organic structuralism envisaged by the arcane philosophy, the existence and reality of the soul does not receive a plausibility, if not a positive authentication, that would give it a validation in the face of modern scientific scepticism.
The arcana of old embraced a purported knowledge of the cosmos and a bold outline of its history. As to man, it affirmed that he was truly the Son of God, made in God’s image and destined to grow into the likeness of his Father. He is a miniature copy of the cosmos all in himself. That unit fragment of his Father’s life that constituted him what he is, is his soul. God being imperishable and eternal, this Son-soul must be likewise indestructible. But, being a Son, this entity must be generated ab initio by the Father, and sent out into the conditions of existence in which its growth could most propitiously take place. This required its involvement in organic material bodies, its incarnation, its pilgrimage through the cycles of embodiment in all forms and conditions of existence in the gamut of the construction of material universes. It was required
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to traverse the whole distance from unconscious inertia of matter up to the highest pinnacle of cosmic consciousness. And since the fundamental law of all manifested existence was the methodology of alternate cycles of life and death, or repetition of smaller cycles to compose larger ones, souls were destined to undergo their pilgrimage through the grades of matter in a series of cyclical embodiments alternating with release and disembodiment, in a virtually endless progression. If the total cosmos of Brahm sets the rhythm of eternal out-breathing and inhalation, man in his image must advance by rhythmic succession of lives and "deaths." The idea of one life and death of soul in matter becomes thus an unconscionable fatuity. The law of all life is the "eternal renewal."
The soul-character in the Egyptian Book of the Dead exults in the fact that he has come to earth to renew himself by bathing in the pool beneath the two divine sycamores of heaven and earth. "I die and I am born again and I renew myself and I grow young each day." "I am eternity and everlastingness, and I proceed to the confines of heaven." "I am yesterday, today and tomorrow; I am he that was, that is, and that is to be." "All things are in my hand."
Who would not concede that the sweeping majesty, the grand sublimity of such conceptions sink into comparative ignominy and paltry insignificance the barren idea that the soul has a fleeting tenancy of one earthy body and passes into non-existence with that body’s dissolution? Under such terms soul could not be said to have a history; or such a history would be meaningless. So the archaic wisdom postulated for souls a history, and in the light of that history, all questions relative to its life and nature could find intelligible and rational answers.
If it was a young god on a pilgrimage through the stages of evolution to highest divinity, it stood at any given moment of its journey at a point where its present status would be the resultant of all the elements of its past experience. As Christian in Pilgrim’s Progress bore on his back the packet of his weakness and sins, the young deity bore in and on his soul the "karma" of his past. Through weal or woe, this burden of his lot could be reduced and lightened as he, life by life, learned, obeyed and mastered the laws of righteousness and the principles of truth. From wild flinging of his physical energies about in sensuality in the early stages of his progression, he came to dominate these strong forces by the sober control of reason and increasing joy in the delights of rational understanding, as the power and genius of divinity flashed into expression.
Lacking scientific grounds and therefore rational certitude as to the existence of souls as imperishable entities, modern philosophy prolongs its tenancy of the anomalous position of postulating progression for the creature man without either positive or rational assurance of continuity of the entity that progresses. This is its weakness, and it spells futility and dubiety for speculation until it is corrected. How can life progress if the organic beings that carry its values and gains do not themselves persist in perpetuity? Modern concept of progress rests almost entirely on the thesis that values and gains are preserved and enlarged by their transmission from one generation to the next in a chain. The following generation inherits the accruements won by the present one. But this predicates that the entities that win the higher values do not hold them, or carry them on as their permanent possession; each generation labors under the heavy stresses and pressures of polarity, wins some precarious advance, only to see its grasp on the hard-won treasure wrenched loose by death. The theorization fails on two distinct counts to accredit itself to reason: cosmic injustice is suggested, yes, specifically implied, by the reflection that neither is the egoic unit of life that struggles to expand
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the stream and the glory of existence in his tiny cycle rewarded even to the point of being permitted to retain and enjoy the fruits of its effort, nor has the successor to whom it transmits its accrued blessedness and advantage earned this benison through its own exertions. The first worker in the vineyard is robbed of what he justly earned; his successor inherits and enjoys what he has not himself earned, but the fruits of another’s stressful labors.
Ancient "occult" science of the soul lifted the mind clear of the fogs and dialectical blankness of this thought predicament by positing, on both natural and rational grounds, the perpetual existence of the egoic unit of consciousness that advanced through the scale of graduated levels of being from lowest to highest and carried all its gains with it. Life itself could make no advance or retain its gains if the units that through rough experience added the gains could not hold them. Philosophy and religion must struggle on in irremediable poverty of rationality as long as they can not fill the vast dialectical gap and vacuum left in their systems by want of a fully rational science that gives both existence and continuity to the soul. If religion comes forward with its pitiable bleating cry that there is a soul and that it carries the values on in a realm of wholly spiritual existence for all eternity, to that rash gesture of despair reason replies that then the human mind has no possible resource that enables it to rationalize one incarnation of soul in earthly body. On the theory of continuity of soul and its progressive advance through successive swings between polarity with matter and rest and recuperation in a return to its primal unity, human life gains rationality and meaning leading on to a transcendent glory as the goal of divinity is neared.
Since, then, the soul is known to be this invincible hero advancing upward through the grades of evolution’s curriculum, all fundamental queries of philosophy receive at least elementary answers. If his potential of an eventual godlike order of consciousness was an unwritten slate at the start, each life in embodiment inscribed the record of its experience upon it. Life after life added its scribble, but at any time in the progression accrued insights and wisdom could erase the old scribble and writer a clearer and more legible diary. If the entity started out with innate ideas, they were but potential until experience imprinted them boldly on consciousness. They were innate only in the sense that at each succeeding incarnation they were there subconsciously as the remembered impressions brought over from the past. If there was an established harmony between the soul’s mental life and the perceived order of nature, it had been built up by deeper and deeper reflection over many lives. And if any elements of rationality, any categories of thought, could be described as "a priori," it could be only in the sense that they were from the beginning there potentially. They were there from the outset seminally. Once experience divulged them to consciousness, they became a posteriori.
The postulation of the soul’s real existence and continuity puts the needed substantial pillars under the porticos of the temple of philosophy, not to add that it both strengthens and beautifies the temple of human life itself. Symmetry, proportion, balance, the rudiments of beauty and the happiness that accrues from the mind’s sense of the fitness of things, all embellish the daily run of human life by their gracious influence. If the present life is understood to be the current episode in the soul’s peregrination up the ladder of continuous progression to a glorious goal, the science of psychology becomes the charter of prospective, if not presently actualized, happiness. And a philosophy that fills the yawning abysses left by unintelligent faith and unrationalized hope with a reasonable certitude as to rewards of obedience to known laws will tend to lift the humdrummery as well as the anguish of life up to the plane of real beatitude.
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The science of soul progression could of course stand on valid grounds only if it be found true that the entity called soul possessed the capability of registering and retaining forever the impression of all its experiences consciously imprinted upon its constituent essence. If the soul could not remember its experiences, it could neither make nor hold any gains. Only by comparison of present experience with past can we make a choice for the better. Without memory life would have no pedagogical power. It could not educate us.
The fact, then, that the subconscious mind never forgets an impression is an item of the utmost value for knowledge. It is the guarantee that soul is the ultimate and essential substance of our being, underlying and pervading the whole area of life. While it is permissible to say that we are the body and have a soul, it is doubtless more accurate to say that we are the soul and it has or wears a body. If the body is perennial, it is also true to say that soul dons and doffs bodies as it would a garment. Science is hedging close to the concept that ultimate being itself is mind; and back of mind, it is averred, is soul; and back of soul is spirit. We have the testimony of our revered Scriptures that God, the total, is spirit. Modern science has made us acquainted with the existence of matter in an endless variety of forms, many of which are so tenuous, volatile and ethereal that it is inappropriate to apply to them the term material at all. We now face the reality of such terms as "spiritual." We find the atom composed of many interior bodies of sublimated matter; no longer dare we scorn as puerile superstition old Egypt’s asseveration of the human being’s constitution of seven bodies.
Deeper reflection on the question of Leibnitz’ "preestablished harmony" may take us into the deepest heart of the major thesis of this work, namely the fundamental relation of the three elements, God’s mind, man’s mind and the mind of nature. On the premises that nature is God’s mind objectified in matter, and that man’s mind is a seed-atom or unit of God’s mind and therefore potentially identical with it, the logical conclusion is incontrovertible that all three minds are akin. On the same grounds it is equally determinable that there is but one Mind in and behind the universe. If we insist upon segregating it into three minds, it is simply that it has presented itself to us under three aspects or manifestations, due to its power to split itself polarity-wise into subjective and objective aspects and to generate seeds of its own nature for the infinite dissemination of its consciousness throughout its objective manifestation. Having effected its own objectification in nature and having generated its infinite progeny of seed-sons, and having set these seed-units of its own being down in the midst of its material objectification, the situation simply requires that the sons of God, standing face to face with God’s objectified thought, turn their own thought potential into the realization of its essential identity with that of the Father expressed in nature. As it has been expressed epigrammatically, man is confronted with the necessity of reading God’s thoughts after him. And the only book from which he can read them is the open book of nature. Mysticism has egregiously assumed that somehow our minds can galvanize themselves into a vibrational rapport with God’s mind and synchronize the activities of the greater with those of the lesser, so to say, in the thin air of pure ideation without the intermediary offices of any objective representations of the divine thought. This presupposes that our minds can "tune in" with the radiations of God’s thoughts and pick them up in midair, thus bringing them within the range of our consciousness. This is what mystical religion has ever based its claims upon, a telepathic communion of our minds with the mind of God. It is the basis of most Hindu religionism. Given a sufficiently intensive effort, it is believed that man can sink his consciousness into that of God and become one with God. This is supposed to be the function of the much-extolled "intuition," the capability of which the mystical
philosophy always denies to intellect. Our refutation of that claim has already been succinctly outlined.
But how does this "tuning in" theory stand when one scrutinizes it "scientifically"? Our veridical knowledge of the science of vibrations, which seem to be the undersupport of all existences, is quite thorough. We know definitely of the vibrational scale spanning the gamut from a few hundred oscillations a second to incalculable frequencies. Every creature at its station in the order has the capability of responding to its own limited range, whatever it may be. Above and beyond that range it cannot go. The idea, then, that the mind of man, with its specific span of capability of response, can synchronize with the mind of God at its level and rate, must be seen as the grossest misconception. And this is the stupendous possibility that mystical infatuation postulates.
But a conception that is quite scientific and legitimate puts the matter in more acceptable form. If the total of God’s creation is the concretion of vibrational forces projected by the Father, why are not all rates and frequencies equally eligible to the divine rating? Are lower frequencies to be put in one category and the higher ones in another? Even if it be that the lower ones give us matter and the higher ones spirit, is it legitimate for us to attribute different moral values to the differential? If it be the bent of our minds to attribute evil to material rates and good to spiritual rates, let it at least be understood that this differentiation is but a whimsy of our minds. Our experience with the two rates may justify our figment of thought and feeling. But it can not exist intrinsically in the actual order.
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