the story of my heart-第19节

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a　plan　the　thought　in　the　mind。　So　that　it　is　correct　to　say
the　mind　bores　tunnels　through　the　mountains；　bridges　the
rivers；　and　constructs　the　engines　which　are　the　pride　of　the
world。

This　is　a　wonderful　tool；　but　it　is　capable　of　work　yet　more
wonderful　in　the　exploration　of　the　heavens。　Now　the　soul　is
the　mind　of　the　mind。　It　can　build　and　construct　and　look　beyond
and　penetrate　space；　and　create。　It　is　the　keenest；　the
sharpest　tool　possessed　by　man。　But　what　would　be　said　if　a
carpenter　about　to　commence　a　piece　of　work　examined　his　tools
and　deliberately　cast　away　that　with　the　finest　edge？　Such　is
the　conduct　of　those　who　reject　the　inner　mind　or　psyche
altogether。　So　great　is　the　value　of　the　soul　that　it　seems　to
me；　if　the　soul　lived　and　received　its　aspirations　it　would　not
matter　if　the　material　universe　melted　away　as　snow。　Many　turn
aside　the　instant　the　soul　is　mentioned；　and　I　sympathise　with
them　in　one　sense；　they　fear　lest；　if　they　acknowledge　it；　they
will　be　fettered　by　mediaeval　conditions。　My　contention　is　that
the　restrictions　of　the　mediaeval　era　should　entirely　be　cast
into　oblivion；　but　the　soul　recognised　and　employed。　Instead　of
slurring　over　the　soul；　I　desire　to　see　it　at　its　highest
perfection。

CHAPTER　XII

SUBTLE　as　the　mind　is；　it　can　effect　little　without　knowledge。
It　cannot　construct　a　bridge；　or　a　building；　or　make　a　canal；　or
work　a　problem　in　algebra；　unless　it　is　provided　with
information。　This　is　obvious；　and　yet　some　say；　What　can　you
effect　by　the　soul？　I　reply　because　it　has　had　no　employment。　Mediaeval
conditions　kept　it　in　slumber：　science　refuses　to　accept　it。　We　are　taught
to　employ　our　minds；　and　furnished　with　materials。　The　mind　has　its　logic
and　exercise　of　geometry；　and　thus　assisted　brings　a　great　force　to　the
solution　of　problems。　The　soul　remains　untaught；　and　can　effect　little。

I　consider　that　the　highest　purpose　of　study　is　the　education　of　the　soul　or
psyche。　It　is　said　that　there　is　no　proof　of　the　existence　of　the　soul；　but；
arguing　on　the　same　grounds；　there　is　no　proof　of　the　existence　of　the　mind；
which　is　not　a　tangible　thing。　For　myself；　I　feel　convinced　that　there　is　a
soul；　a　mind　of　the　mindand　that　it　really　exists。　Now；　glancing　at　the
state　of　wild　and　uneducated　men；　it　is　evident　that　they　work　with　their
hands　and　make　various　things　almost　instinctively。　But　when　they　arrive　at
the　idea　of　mind；　and　say　to　themselves；　I　possess　a　mind；　then　they　think
and　proceed
farther；　forming　designs　and　constructions　both　tangible　and
mental。

Next　then；　when　we　say；　I　have　a　soul；　we　can　proceed　to　shape
things　yet　further；　and　to　see　deeper；　and　penetrate　the
mystery。　By　denying　the　existence　and　the　power　of　the　soul
refusing　to　employ　itwe　should　go　back　more　than　twelve
thousand　written　years　of　human　history。　But　instead　of　this；
I　contend；　we　should　endeavour　to　go　forward；　and　to　discover　a　fourth　Idea；
and　after　that　a　fifth；　and　onwards　continually。

I　will　not　permit　myself　to　be　taken　captive　by　observing
physical　phenomena；　as　many　evidently　are。　Some　gases　are
mingled　and　produce　a　liquid；　certainly　it　is　worth　careful
investigation；　but　it　is　no　more　than　the　revolution　of　a
wheel；　which　is　so　often　seen　that　it　excites　no　surprise；
though；　in　truth；　as　wonderful。　So　is　all　motion；　and　so　is　a
grain　of　sand；　there　is　nothing　that　is　not　wonderful；　as；　for
instance；　the　fact　of　the　existence　of　things　at　all。　But　the
intense　concentration　of　the　mind　on　mechanical　effects　appears
often　to　render　it　incapable　of　perceiving　anything　that　is　not
mechanical。　Some　compounds　are　observed　to　precipitate　crystals；　all　of
which　contain　known　angles。　Thence　it　is　argued　that　all　is　mechanical；　and
that　action　occurs　in　set　ways　only。　There
is　a　tendency　to　lay　it　down　as　an　infallible　law　that　because
we　see　these　things　therefore　everything　else　that　exists　in
space　must　be　or　move　exactly　in　the　same　manner。　But　I　do　not
think　that　because　crystals　are　precipitated　with　fixed　angles
therefore　the　whole　universe　is　necessarily　mechanical。　I　think
there　are　things　exempt　from　mechanical　rules。　The　restriction
of　thought　to　purely　mechanical　grooves　blocks　progress　in　the
same　way　as　the　restrictions　of　mediaeval　superstition。　Let　the
mind　think；　dream；　imagine：　let　it　have　perfect　freedom。　To
shut　out　the　soul　is　to　put　us　back　more　than　twelve　thousand
years。

Just　as　outside　light；　and　the　knowledge　gained　from　light；
there　are；　I　think；　other　mediums　from　which；　in　times　to　come；
intelligence　will　be　obtained；　so　outside　the　mental　and　the　spiritual　ideas
we　now　possess　I　believe　there　exists　a　whole　circle　of　ideas。　In　the
conception　of　the　idea　that　there　are　others；　I　lay　claim　to　another　idea。

The　mind　is　infinite　and　able　to　understand　everything　that　is
brought　before　it；　there　is　no　limit　to　its　understanding。　The
limit　is　in　the　littleness　of　the　things　and　the　narrowness　of
the　ideas　which　have　been　put　for　it　to　consider。　For　the
philosophies　of　old　time　past　and　the　discoveries　of　modern
research　are　as　nothing　to　it。　They　do　not　fill　it。　When　they
have　been　read；　the　mind　passes　on；　and　asks　for　more。　The
utmost　of　them；　the　whole　together；　make　a　mere　nothing。　These
things　have　been　gathered　together　by　immense　labour；　labour
so　great　that　it　is　a　weariness　to　think　of　it；　but　yet；　when
all　is　summed　up　and　written；　the　mind　receives　it　all　as
easily　as　the　hand　picks　flowers。　It　is　like　one　sentence
read　and　gone。

The　mind　requires　more；　and　more；　and　more。　It　is　so　strong
that　all　that　can　be　put　before　it　is　devoured　in　a　moment。
Left　to　itself　it　will　not　be　satisfied　with　an　invisible
idol　any　more　than　with　a　wooden　one。　An　idol　whose　attributes　are
omnipresence；　omnipotence；　and　so　on；　is　no　greater　than　light　or
electricity；　which　are　present　everywhere　and　all…powerful；　and　from　which
perhaps　the　thought　arose。　Prayer　which　receives　no　reply　must　be　pronounced
in　vain。　The　mind　goes　on　and　requires　more　than　these；　something　higher
than　prayer；　something　higher　than　a　god。

I　have　been　obliged　to　write　these　things　by　an　irresistible
impulse　which　has　worked　in　me　since　early　youth。　They　have　not
been　written　for　the　sake　of　argument；　still　less　for　any　thought　of　profit；
rather　indeed　the　reverse。　They　have　been　forced　from　me　by　earnestness　of
heart；　and　they　express　my　most　serious　convictions。　　For　seventeen　years
they　have　been　lying　in　my　mind；　continually　thought　of　and　pondered　over。　I
was　not　more　than　eighteen　when　an　inner　and　esoteric　meaning　began　to　come
to　me　from　all　the　visible　universe；　and　indefinable　aspirations　filled　me。
I　found　them　in　the　grass　fields；　under　the　trees；　on　the　hill…tops；　at
sunrise；　and　in　the　night。　There　was　a　deeper　meaning　everywhere。　The　sun
burned　with　it；　the　broad　front　of　morning　beamed　with　it；　a　deep　feeling
entered　me　while　gazing　at　the　sky　in　the　azure　noon；　and　in　the　star…lit
evening。

I　was　sensitive　to　all　things；　to　the　earth　under；　and　the
star…hollow　round　about；　to　the　least　blade　of　grass；　to　the
largest　oak。　They　seemed　like　exterior　nerves　and　veins
for　the　conveyance　of　feeling　to　me。　Sometimes　a　very　ecstasy
of　exquisite　enjoyment　of　the　entire　visible　universe　filled
me。　I　was　aware　that　in　reality　the　feeling　and　the　thought　were
in　me；　and　not　in　the　earth　or　sun；　yet　I　was　more　conscious　of
it　when　in　company　with　these。　A　visit　to　the　sea　increased
the　strength　of　the　original　impulse。　I　began　to　make　efforts
to　express　these　thoughts　in　writing；　but　could　not　succeed　to
my　own　liking。　Time　went　on；　and　harder　experiences；　and　the
pressure　of　labour　came；　but　in　no　degree　abated　the　fire　of
first　thought。　Again　and　again　I　made　resolutions　that　I　would
write　it；　in　some　way　or　other；　and　as　often　failed。　I　could
express　any　other　idea　with　ease；　but　not　this。　Once　especially　I　remember；
in　a　short　interval　of　distasteful　labour；　walking　away　to　a　spot　by　a　brook
which　skirts　an　ancient　Roman　wall；　and　there　trying　to　determine　and　really
commence　to　work。　Again　I　failed。　More　time；　more　changes；　and　still　the
same　thought　running　beneath　everything。　At　last；　in　1880；　in　the　old　castle
of　Pevensey；　under　happy　circumstances；　once　more　I　resolved；　and　actually
did　write　down　a　few　notes。　Even　then　I　could　not　go　on；　but　I　kept　the
notes（I　had　destroyed　all　former　begin…
nings）；　and　in　the　end；　two　years　afterwards；　commenced　this　book。

After　all　this　time　and　thought　it　is　only　a　fragment；　and　a　fragment
scarcely　hewn。　Had　I　not　made　it　personal　I　could　scarcely　have　put　it　into
any　shape　at　all。　But　I　felt　that　I　could　no　longer　delay；　and　that　it　must
be　done；　however　imperfectly。　I　am　only　too　conscious　of　its　imperfections；
for　I　have　as　it　were　seventeen　years　of　consciousness　of　my　own　inability
to　express　this　the　idea　of　my　life。　I　can　only　say　that　many　of　these　short
sentences　are　the　result　of　long…continued　thought。　One　of　the　greatest
difficulties　I　have　encountered　is　the　lack　of　words　to　express　ideas。　By
the　word　soul；　or　psyche；　I　mean　that　inner　consciousness　which　aspires。　By
prayer　I　do　not　me