CHAPTER XXII

SPIRITUALISM AND THE DEEPENING OF SPIRITUAL LIFE.

This great topic immediately invites two important questions: First, what are we to understand by Spiritualism? Second, what is meant by the deepening of our spiritual life?

In reply to the first inquiry it seems safe to say that the irreducible minimum of agreement among Spiritualists is the simple declaration that we are here and now spiritual entities, and being such survive the change commonly called death. Though this direct and widely inclusive statement is common to all who call themselves Spiritualists, it by no means covers the entire ground of spiritual philosophy. It is, indeed, little more than an introduction to it, for Spiritualism is so immensely wide in its ever-extending ramifications that there is scarcely a topic engaging human attention which does not come legitimately within the embrace of its implications.

There can be but three systems of philosophy appealing to thinkers: Spiritualism, Materialism, and Agnosticism. Materialism is practically dead in scientific circles; the ground is, therefore, virtually left to Spiritualists and Agnostics, who are now pretty evenly dividing intellectual territory. Of these two philosophical systems, one (Spiritualism) is decidedly affirmative, the other (Agnosticism) avowedly indefinite; and because of the incontrovertible fact that all human knowledge is only relative, there must always remain some place for a confession of ignorance on some questions, together with a most positive enunciation of knowledge concerning other matters. No intelligent man or woman can be exclusively either gnostic or agnostic, but there are many thoughtful persons whose intellectual position is one of wise caution, who do not hesitate to avow their positive conviction that the fundamental propositions of Spiritualism are fully demonstrable.

By reason of the exceeding wideness of the ground which must be traversed, many eminent men of science, including Sir William Crookes, are indisposed to speak as fervently on the side of pronounced Spiritualism as the no less famous Dr. Alfred Russel Wallace, a circumstance which may be jointly attributed to varying degrees of first-hand evidence and to difference in natural mental predilection in the case of these equally distinguished scientists. We should always keep before us, in every discussion, the important fact that phenomena appealing strongly in the most favorable manner to one type of mind may prove actually distasteful to another type; this alone suffices to account for those diametrically opposed statements which we constantly encounter over illustrious signatures. To some people the thought of physical manifestations, ranging from “raps” to “materializations,” is far from acceptable. They have no hope or desire that such phenomena may genuinely occur, while to many others, equally intelligent, these manifestations carry definite convictions and are sources of considerable comfort and joy. Unless we can approach so great a subject as Spiritualism without prejudice or predilection of any sort, we are apt to be unwittingly unjust at some point in our investigations. Only the thoroughly fair-minded, be they statesmen, scientists, clergymen or conjurors, are really competent to so investigate as to reach conclusions which will prove of genuine importance. Probably for this very reason much controversy is still raging, practically all over the world, concerning the use and value of Spiritualism, granted that its basic claims be reasonably established.

Our present theme necessitates an excursion into moral fields, into distinctively ethical as well as intellectual pasture-ground, for to “deepen spiritual life” must certainly mean vastly more than to convince the intellect of the survival of the human individual beyond physical dissolution. The first momentous question to be raised concerning any philosophy that we are invited to investigate is, What does it teach concerning human nature? As we are all human beings, that is the chief fundamental question of importance. As a candidate for general acceptance among philanthropists, Spiritualism has always this to commend it, that it elevates the idea of human life far beyond the level of materialistic negation, and it also disowns those mistaken views of religion which teach the depravity rather than the nobility of the root-nature common to us all. As “psychical research” continues, it is constantly bringing to light more and more evidence of the amazing greatness of the life we are living now and here, and so great has been the recent addition to the sum of our knowledge of psychology that the “subjective mind,” or “sub-self,” is responsible for many psychic marvels which before the days of Thomson Jay Hudson and his successors were compactly attributed to the action of our “departed” friends. Such a statement, though possessed of some superficial plausibility, is by no means either radical or rational when sifted to its foundations or carried forward to its ultimates, for instead of added knowledge concerning our own nature in the present world destroying the thought of spiritual communion, every additional discovery in the realm of telepathic and kindred action only goes to prove how spiritual intercourse is actually effected between living entities as at present situated. We are discovering and applying certain hitherto unknown possibilities resident within us. We find we are able to send and receive mental telegrams, cablegrams, and aerograms, seemingly without respect to physical distance, but always in accord with some mysterious law which we as yet but very imperfectly comprehend; all of which goes far to prove that we are functioning as spiritual beings at the present time, and that our external bodies are far less of us than we have generally been disposed to believe.

All this ever-extending knowledge of our interior being is rapidly sweeping away those old-time objections to Spiritualism which were based on extremely limited and almost entirely materialistic views of human nature. But this widening view of our common nature does not only afford us a larger idea of our capabilities, scientifically speaking; it gives us boundless reason for insisting with ever-increasing, confident earnestness upon the goodness of our nature, for this wonderful “sub-consciousness,” about which so much is being written and said, is by no means diabolical but rather celestial in its inherent tendencies, when these are rescued from the clutch of excrescent attachments, which often veil, though they cannot destroy, the essential entity or ego. “Subjective,” “sub-conscious” and “subliminal” are, as we all know, three words greatly in evidence in contemporary literature, and though they are certainly inadequate to account for all that many of their most frequent users seek to explain by means of them, they can well serve a definite, even though it be a distinctly limited, purpose. The prefix “sub” is so often used in two opposite ways that it is not always clear in what sense it is employed by a particular author unless we are familiar with his distinctive employment of the term.

F. W. H. Myers, in his very valuable treatise on “Human Personality, Its Survival of Bodily Death,” compares us to trees whose roots are hidden while their trunks and branches are revealed. If such be a fair analogy, then what lies behind the mortal screen is “subjective” not in the sense of inferior but interior. Hudson, in all his writings, consistently used the phrase “subjective mind” in precisely that connection, though he appears to have frequently obscured some of his meanings by persistently employing a single phrase to cover ground which Mrs. Besant covers by using two definite titles. Among Theosophists in general, “super-consciousness” is the term employed to convey the idea of higher planes of Nature, “sub-consciousness” being reserved to describe what is actually, morally and spiritually speaking, below the level of our present human elevation. Be this as it may, for we have no wish to wrangle over phrases, it is clear that the “Emanuelists” and other useful workers in the ample field of psycho-therapy appeal with great confidence to what they feel to be some inner plane of consciousness which often readily responds to benevolent suggestion, and the whole structure of much mental treatment which is highly useful reposes on a foundation of faith in the willingness as well as ability of our inner selves to respond to healthy suggestions. Spiritualists who cling to an old-fashioned terminology often dispute with students of similar phenomena who speak another language; it is therefore highly desirable that honest inquirers should get together and compare notes diligently with a view to reaching some clear conclusion which may be mutually comprehensible.

We should all spurn the idea as absurd should anyone tell us that, because we have certain powers of our own and do much work individually, therefore we never act in concert with our neighbors; but such a statement, ridiculous as it must appear, is not necessarily less logical than the contention that there is no communion with our friends in spirit who have “crossed the border” because we have demonstrated mental telegraphy and telephony and frequently enjoy inter-communion in psychic ways while still continuing incarnate. Every fact has a value of its own, and the only rational way of dealing with facts is to compare them one with another with a view to arriving at some lucid synthesis. Spiritualism can reasonably be said to include very much more than a simple establishment of the rudimentary doctrine of survival of bodily death, and this the accumulated history of the past, since 1848, abundantly demonstrates. Spiritualism is the pioneer among all modern cults. The Theosophical Society was founded in 1875, and the Christian Science and many other movements, in their present organized form, are even younger.

If Spiritualists resolve to do the great work which they are well capable of performing to-day, as in years gone by, both in their organised and unorganised capacities, they should especially endeavor to unify the many diverging, but not properly contradictory, schools of thought at present striving for supremacy. There can be no true spiritual life where there is dissension and disunion. Unity, but not uniformity, is ever essential to co-operative activity, and only as co-operators can we live a truly spiritual life. Intellectual differences being clearly unavoidable, we must look for a basis of agreement upon a plane deeper than the intellect, and that plane is the seat of truly philanthropic sentiment. Too often in all our researches into the mysteries of the universe we seem to be actuated solely by a desire to get, not give, and it is on account of this selfish tendency that we often obtain so very little of permanent value among the floods of messages which reach us through the gateway of mediumship, even though many communications are received which from the simply evidential standpoint are truly of great significance. There are distinct standpoints from which to judge all alleged communications, viz., the scientific and the ethical. From the scientific viewpoint, as Dr. J. H. Hyslop and other well-known authors and experimenters frequently declare, the more trivial the message (in some respects) the greater its convincingness, while from the ethical side a totally different standard of judgment must be considered. At first we are all naturally curious to know if any psychic phenomena can be proved indubitably genuine; our interest is centred entirely in the fact of simple evidence, but after we have fully established certain rudimentary conclusions, if we are actuated to any appreciable extent by benevolent motives, we desire to do positive good with our Spiritualism, instead of enjoying spirit communion simply as a private luxury or an intellectual entertainment. Wireless telegraphy had to be demonstrated before Marconi’s famous system could gain the credence of the commercial world, but now that it is no longer the startling sensation it was some years ago, people are wisely endeavoring to make such real use of it that accidents at sea may be avoided, and in case of danger, relief may be quickly afforded to all in jeopardy. We may well rest satisfied with the thought that on unseen planes of Nature there exist all sorts and conditions of entities with whom we can and do commune far more readily and frequently than we are usually inclined to believe, and it is scarcely going too far to say that no claim is too extravagant to be within the scope of possibility where such communion is concerned.

We are accustomed to speak glibly of “supernal” and “infernal” influences without realizing sufficiently that those entities who are commonly called “angels” on the one hand and “devils” on the other are only ordinary human beings, in the one case higher and in the other instance lower in development than our immediate selves. Masters, adepts, initiates, guardian angels, etc., are only titles given to human spirits further advanced in power and knowledge than we are at present. The fact that we conceive of them and appear to comprehend their attributes is excellent proof that we contain all they express; the only real difference between their condition and ours consisting in the fact that they have actually developed many faculties which are at present dormant in ourselves. These higher intelligences are commonly called “elder brethren” by Theosophists, and that is an excellent expression on account of the clearness with which it suggests their relation to us and ours to them. Nothing can be more self-evident than that we are all substantially well agreed as to what are celestial attributes. No one takes exception to the words attributed to the great Master of Christendom: “I am among you as one that serveth,” and “he who would be greatest among you, let him be a minister to all.” The law of ministration is always strongly emphasized by spiritually-minded thinkers, and we are actually getting used to the daring statement made by many “New Thought” advocates that “God is servant to man,” which is only the other side of a deep, vital truth expressed familiarly in the time-honored phrase, “We are all servants of God.” Great propositions must be turned upside down and inside out before we can intelligently estimate their comprehensiveness. It has often occurred that some single aspect of the advantages of spiritual inter-communion has been studied and valued out of all due proportion to others, and that aspect has often been the one which has appealed to the self-seeking rather than to the neighbor-blessing tendencies of our indubitably complex human character. We wish others to serve us, but we are not as a rule so ready to serve as to be served. We are all ready enough to sing with feeling, “Angels ever bright and fair, take, oh, take me to your care,” but we are not, as a rule, quite so ready to pray that we may officiate as angels taking others to our care. It is this aspect which must be brought prominently forward if we are truly in earnest concerning the deepening of our spiritual life, or, in other words, developing real practical spirituality.

We know well enough that there are many good definitions of the great word spirit, but the simplest and most obvious of them all, breath, from the Latin spiritus, must by no means be ignored. We are often reminded that we have reduced a Latin word of eight letters to an English word of six, and then have forgotten (apparently) the source whence our abbreviated term has been derived. This error is being rapidly corrected by the vast amount of attention now given to breathing exercises of all descriptions, from the simplest to the most complicated, but here again we are confronted with the same old question: Why are we practising Yoga or anything therewith connected? The breath of life is the original definition of spirit, and to breathe rhythmically is essential, alike to mental and bodily vigor. Health is now happily being re-defined as wholeness, therefore religion and science, long divorced, are now being re-married with excellent prospects for producing living and abiding offspring, who will not prove unmindful of sanitary law as applied to all phases of existence. A book of great value, “Religion and Medicine,” the joint product of two distinguished clergymen and a famous physician of Boston, U. S. A., embodies many of the latest and most popular teachings of the Church and the medical profession, when the two combine to wage a war of extirpation upon all phases of disease, physical, mental, moral and spiritual, through the benign agency of well-directed thought, inspired by righteous love, and sustained by reasonable faith in the essential goodness of our common human nature. Rev. Elwood Worcester, D. D., and Rev. Samuel McComb, D. D., are attached as co-rectors to the now famous Emanuel Church in Boston, which gave name to the much discussed Emanuel movement. Dr. Isidor Coriat is a physician of distinct eminence. These three learned gentlemen have produced between them a singularly valuable volume, in which ancient and modern thought and practice are placed side by side in such a manner as powerfully to suggest the vital thought of constant Divine immanence and the permanent certainty of good accomplished, regardless of time and country, if we but place ourselves in receptive attitude toward beneficent spiritual influx: precisely as, on the physical plane, we may enjoy fresh air and brilliant sunshine if we only arrange and open our windows and ventilators in a scientific manner so as to avail ourselves freely of the copious natural blessings which are incessantly at the disposal of rich and poor alike. It is often urged by opponents of the “Emanuel” and similar movements, that the Church of to-day is placing altogether too much stress upon physical healing and mundane affairs in general. A complaint is made, in ecclesiastical and lay journals alike, that our religion is properly a “spiritual” affair, and therefore cannot concern itself in any direct way with either the cure of bodily distempers or making provision for physical necessities; the good clergymen and others who are engaging in much excellent, seemingly secular, work, are roundly berated in many quarters for stepping aside from their proper field of “spiritual” activities and devoting themselves to matters of less moment and far lower interest than the “soul-saving” occupation in which their fanatical critics consider they should be exclusively engaged. Much the same cry is not infrequently raised in Spiritualistic societies by people who believe in a kind of narrow Spiritualism, which deals exclusively with matters pertaining to what is termed conventionally “the future life” and “the other world.” Now, our ideal of spirituality, and it certainly accords completely with Greek philosophy and primitive Christian doctrine and practice, is that spirit pervades matter, that the external world is ensouled by spirit which interpenetrates every seemingly solid substance, verily occupying the interstices between the electrons into which the atoms of matter are now scientifically broken up. If the newest scientific theory of matter is entitled to serious attention, then we must soon arrive at something like a revival of the ancient alchemical concept of a single primary substance, and we may well remember that the phrase “one element” is found in the poetry of Tennyson as well as in the magical treatises of mystic philosophers and occult scientists to whose long-dishonored discoveries and declarations the learned world of to-day is beginning to render serious attention.

Where is that “spirit world” about which we hear so much; where are those “seven spheres” or where can we locate any “heaven,” “paradise,” or “purgatory” about which theologians speak so glibly? Omar Khayyam, in his world-famous “Rubaiyat,” has answered these questions in a few vivid sentences of fervid verse more fully than they have been dealt with in many a bulky tome of labored philosophy or scholastic theology. A deep student of Sufism (Dr. Norton Hazeldine, now of Los Angeles, Cal.), after having spent many years in Persia and other Eastern lands, has in a singularly beautiful version of the esoteric aspect of the “Rubaiyat,” given us the following translation of a portion of the sixty-seventh quatrain:

“Hear ye then this simple, yet most ancient of the truths, how man can gain knowledge of life beyond the tomb. Control thyself, and with thy senses send thy soul into its elements there to wring out the secret of its Birth and End. The gentle voice of the silence whispers soft and low and bids me write the answer here below: I myself am Heaven, I myself am Hell, I am the Cause Creative, I am the Way, the End.”

It must always be remembered that the personal pronoun is used here precisely as Emerson in his famous saying,

“I am owner of the sphere,
Of the seven stars and the solar year,”

has employed it; no private ownership, nothing but universal participation in public reality is intended in each instance.

This brings us to our most vital point of all—the possibility of enjoying an inward life of rest and peace regardless of how fiercely the tempest may prevail about us. Natural analogies are always ready to hand to illustrate this greatest and sweetest of all important truths—the complete beneficence of all life's varied experiences when, as Sir Edwin Arnold has phrased it, while treating of the faith of Islam, they are “viewed from Allah's throne above.” It seems unthinkable that any reasoning Spiritualist should entertain a pessimistic or even a semi-pessimistic view of the universe, but it certainly appears that many people never allow themselves to carry their own philosophy to its logical final result. Irrespective of our religious, philosophical, or other ideas and opinions, we are all compelled to admit that our external life, regard it as we may, is at least for many of us filled with tragedies. To shut our eyes to manifest phenomena is childish if not absurd, but because we allow that facts occur we are in no way obliged to interpret them pessimistically.

A truly spiritual view of life must ever be one which takes no very great amount of any outward gain or loss when such is contrasted with inward pain and pleasure. In spite of all false utterances to the contrary, the words remain true through all succeeding ages that “a man's life consisteth not in the multitude of the things which he possesseth.” It is sometimes irrationally claimed by certain Socialists and others that to fix our thoughts upon a life beyond the present is to encourage the rich in their oppression of the poor, and at the same time to counsel underfed and overworked multitudes to be content with their lot in this world, because everything will be straightened out equitably in some life to come. Needless to say, there is some shallow ground on which such an assertion can be made to stand, but to claim that there is any necessary or logical relation between faith in spiritual realities and encouragement of inequitable social conditions is actually ridiculous. Probably no people in England or elsewhere to-day are exerting themselves more vigorously and tirelessly for the betterment of all social conditions than those whose particular brand of religious conviction is designated New Theology, but the Rev. R. J. Campbell and his associates and sympathizers are in the front rank of those interested in proving the reality of a spiritual life continuous beyond earthly dissolution. What is to many a new point of view must now be taken, and Spiritualists should be among the first to emphasise the hereness and nowness of the spiritual life and its omnipresent activities. Clairvoyance, clairaudience, clairsentience and all other extensions of normal faculty simply suggest, in the most obvious manner, that our universally admitted five senses, regardless of any greater number which we may latently possess, are by no means confinable within any determinable boundaries. We see, hear, taste, touch, smell, but how far do these five words convey ideas to us respectively? Clear sight, hearing and feeling can only mean more than the average; thus for convenience sake we often repudiate the old word supernatural and take refuge in supernormal.

But, again, let us inquire what is meant by normal, seeing that we have no fixable standard by which to determine the limits of normality. At least we all agree that our normal is someone's supernormal and may be someone else's subnormal. In an art gallery, adorned with hundreds of exquisite paintings, we cannot determine for each other any criterion of judgment except to a very limited extent, for sight, as well as artistic appreciativeness, differs so widely among us that we can only speak positively regarding the impression a certain picture makes on us individually. On the walls are noble portraits finely executed, each displaying the features of some distinguished man or woman who has achieved something noteworthy. Turning, then, from portraits of individuals, our gaze rests upon landscapes and seascapes, upon peaceful valleys and populous marts of trade; again we are invited to contemplate some single flower or a cluster of charming blossoms, and now a bird and then an animal is presented to our view. What is the mission of all this art; why are there painters, and why do we prize and exhibit paintings? Surely we must see in all this display of talent and beauty something far beyond the mere gratification of some æsthetic fancy, or our Art Schools and their students are reduced to the most insignificant caterers to an ephemeral taste for the externally attractive. If, however, as Ruskin taught, art is to be cultivated not for its own but for humanity’s sake, we can see in the true artist a conscientious worker in the field of spiritual elevation and reform, for as art is always an avenue through which the populace is ready to be reached, the painter and sculptor must take their places among ministers of a sublime and everlasting gospel, bringing the glad tidings of spiritual reality to a world pressed down to the lowest depths ofttimes by a crushing sense of the unreality of all that it has hugged most affectionately to its bosom. Through a picture or a statue a lesson can be quietly, effectively, and permanently conveyed to multitudes as in no other way. When Mrs. Besant visited Chicago in the autumn of 1907, she greatly impressed the citizens of that vast cosmopolis by calling their attention to the fine work done by many painters whose works were conspicuously exhibited, and at the same time making a strenuous plea for a generally higher range of subjects than those ordinarily selected. Here is a broad suggestion for the popularizing of much that is best in Spiritualism. Artists who are inspirational and deeply imbued with a keen sense of the possible sublimity of their vocation, have a practically boundless prairie in which to range when determined to consecrate their gifts of conception and expression to the embodying of high ideals on canvas or in bronze or marble.

We none of us dwell sufficiently on the uses of good objects of art in our homes, schools, and public thoroughfares. The fact that much has been done already, and with excellent results, is only an evidence of how more can yet be accomplished and with still greater righteous consequences if we but embrace our golden opportunities. Music in one sense is even more effectual than the still arts in arousing emotion and lifting thought above external sordidness; but with all its power and charm, the very nature of music being volatile prevents its occupying the special place which the other arts must occupy. In a spiritual temple, be it a spacious palace or a humble attic in a modest dwelling house, the fabric should always be able to do a work by itself silently and suggestively, quite without reference to any stated exercises carried on within its walls. A very good tendency among many Spiritualists to-day is to secure homes for spiritual work, the atmosphere of which can easily be rendered distinctive and uplifting in highly pronounced degree, and to accomplish this excellent end fully we should introduce all possible accessories of a beautiful and useful nature. But there is always one aspect of spiritual philosophy brighter, wider, and more richly consoling than all the rest, and that is the great theme of experiences gainable in sleep and trance; and let us remember that on this point Spiritualists and Theosophists have a wide and comprehensive meeting ground. Only comparatively rarely do we get definite information of the spirit-world or “astral plane” while we are awake; this is because we are so very much engrossed with external interests and business that it is only seldom that we can bestow serious thought on anything outside our immediate secular engagements. But during sleep our condition is entirely reversed, for no sooner do we enter the sleeping condition than we turn our backs upon the outer and our faces toward the inner world. During eight hours out of every twenty-four many people rest completely from all external cares and responsibilities, and thereby obtain not only complete refreshment but spiritual equipment for the varied work which daily lies before them. Just as a well-spent day earns a peaceful night, so does a well-spent night prepare us for a happy, useful day. Education while asleep, or in a state of trance, is one of the most important and fascinating topics in which Spiritualists can become vitally interested, and, as a conclusion to our present essay, we wish to offer a few practical hints for consciously enlarging the beneficial scope of our nocturnal inspiration. After retiring, while yet awake, it is a very good practice to concentrate attention thoroughly upon some subject or place with which, or individual with whom, we would like to be specially related during slumber or entrancement. Before going to sleep it is well to resolve to wake slowly and suggest to yourself, while passing into the sleeping condition, that you will carry across the border with you some well-defined remembrance of how and where you have spent your night. Very often we gain by that process much information of great importance, helpful in a large variety of ways, and most of all do we become increasingly conscious of the blessed fact that night by night we can work and dwell among our “departed” loved ones, as day by day we minister and travel among our still incarnate friends. With pure resolve to gather useful knowledge on the psychic plane and employ it for beneficial ends we can safely practise an exercise which develops, in an orderly manner, a faculty of our inner nature and enables us to answer in a definite affirmative the ever-pressing query, “If we appear to die do we yet continue to live?”

WE ARE HERE AND NOW LIVING IN INFINITY AND ETERNITY.

When this mighty truth is clearly realized there is no longer for us any “this” or “other” world, for we have grown to perceive that boundary lines of space and time relate only to those exterior planes of consciousness which it is ever the distinctive province of spiritual discernment immeasurably to transcend.