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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/20654-8.txt b/20654-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..945b29b --- /dev/null +++ b/20654-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6784 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Fantasia of the Unconscious, by D. H. Lawrence + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Fantasia of the Unconscious + + +Author: D. H. Lawrence + + + +Release Date: February 24, 2007 [eBook #20654] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FANTASIA OF THE UNCONSCIOUS*** + + +E-text prepared by Michael Ciesielski, Sankar Viswanathan, and the Project +Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net/c/) + + + +FANTASIA OF THE UNCONSCIOUS + +by + +D. H. LAWRENCE + + + + + + + +New York +Thomas Seltzer +1922 +Copyright, 1922, by +Thomas Seltzer, Inc. + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER + + FOREWORD + + I. INTRODUCTION + + II. THE HOLY FAMILY + + III. PLEXUSES, PLANES AND SO ON + + IV. TREES AND BABIES AND PAPAS AND MAMAS + + V. THE FIVE SENSES + + VI. FIRST GLIMMERINGS OF MIND + + VII. FIRST STEPS IN EDUCATION + + VIII. EDUCATION AND SEX IN MAN, WOMAN AND CHILD + + IX. THE BIRTH OF SEX + + X. PARENT LOVE + + XI. THE VICIOUS CIRCLE + + XII. LITANY OF EXHORTATIONS + + XIII. COSMOLOGICAL + + XIV. SLEEP AND DREAMS + + XV. THE LOWER SELF + + EPILOGUE + + + + + +FOREWORD + + +The present book is a continuation from "Psychoanalysis and the +Unconscious." The generality of readers had better just leave it +alone. The generality of critics likewise. I really don't want to +convince anybody. It is quite in opposition to my whole nature. I +don't intend my books for the generality of readers. I count it a +mistake of our mistaken democracy, that every man who can read print +is allowed to believe that he can read all that is printed. I count it +a misfortune that serious books are exposed in the public market, like +slaves exposed naked for sale. But there we are, since we live in an +age of mistaken democracy, we must go through with it. + +I warn the generality of readers, that this present book will seem to +them only a rather more revolting mass of wordy nonsense than the +last. I would warn the generality of critics to throw it in the waste +paper basket without more ado. + +As for the limited few, in whom one must perforce find an answerer, I +may as well say straight off that I stick to the solar plexus. That +statement alone, I hope, will thin their numbers considerably. + +Finally, to the remnants of a remainder, in order to apologize for the +sudden lurch into cosmology, or cosmogony, in this book, I wish to say +that the whole thing hangs inevitably together. I am not a scientist. +I am an amateur of amateurs. As one of my critics said, you either +believe or you don't. + +I am not a proper archæologist nor an anthropologist nor an +ethnologist. I am no "scholar" of any sort. But I am very grateful to +scholars for their sound work. I have found hints, suggestions for +what I say here in all kinds of scholarly books, from the Yoga and +Plato and St. John the Evangel and the early Greek philosophers like +Herakleitos down to Fraser and his "Golden Bough," and even Freud and +Frobenius. Even then I only remember hints--and I proceed by +intuition. This leaves you quite free to dismiss the whole wordy mass +of revolting nonsense, without a qualm. + +Only let me say, that to my mind there is a great field of science +which is as yet quite closed to us. I refer to the science which +proceeds in terms of life and is established on data of living +experience and of sure intuition. Call it subjective science if you +like. Our objective science of modern knowledge concerns itself only +with phenomena, and with phenomena as regarded in their +cause-and-effect relationship. I have nothing to say against our +science. It is perfect as far as it goes. But to regard it as +exhausting the whole scope of human possibility in knowledge seems to +me just puerile. Our science is a science of the dead world. Even +biology never considers life, but only mechanistic functioning and +apparatus of life. + +I honestly think that the great pagan world of which Egypt and Greece +were the last living terms, the great pagan world which preceded our +own era once, had a vast and perhaps perfect science of its own, a +science in terms of life. In our era this science crumbled into magic +and charlatanry. But even wisdom crumbles. + +I believe that this great science previous to ours and quite different +in constitution and nature from our science once was universal, +established all over the then-existing globe. I believe it was +esoteric, invested in a large priesthood. Just as mathematics and +mechanics and physics are defined and expounded in the same way in +the universities of China or Bolivia or London or Moscow to-day, so, +it seems to me, in the great world previous to ours a great science +and cosmology were taught esoterically in all countries of the globe, +Asia, Polynesia, America, Atlantis and Europe. Belt's suggestion of +the geographical nature of this previous world seems to me most +interesting. In the period which geologists call the Glacial Period, +the waters of the earth must have been gathered up in a vast body on +the higher places of our globe, vast worlds of ice. And the sea-beds +of to-day must have been comparatively dry. So that the Azores rose up +mountainous from the plain of Atlantis, where the Atlantic now washes, +and the Easter Isles and the Marquesas and the rest rose lofty from +the marvelous great continent of the Pacific. + +In that world men lived and taught and knew, and were in one complete +correspondence over all the earth. Men wandered back and forth from +Atlantis to the Polynesian Continent as men now sail from Europe to +America. The interchange was complete, and knowledge, science was +universal over the earth, cosmopolitan as it is to-day. + +Then came the melting of the glaciers, and the world flood. The +refugees from the drowned continents fled to the high places of +America, Europe, Asia, and the Pacific Isles. And some degenerated +naturally into cave men, neolithic and paleolithic creatures, and some +retained their marvelous innate beauty and life-perfection, as the +South Sea Islanders, and some wandered savage in Africa, and some, +like Druids or Etruscans or Chaldeans or Amerindians or Chinese, +refused to forget, but taught the old wisdom, only in its +half-forgotten, symbolic forms. More or less forgotten, as knowledge: +remembered as ritual, gesture, and myth-story. + +And so, the intense potency of symbols is part at least memory. And so +it is that all the great symbols and myths which dominate the world +when our history first begins, are very much the same in every country +and every people, the great myths all relate to one another. And so it +is that these myths now begin to hypnotize us again, our own impulse +towards our own scientific way of understanding being almost spent. +And so, besides myths, we find the same mathematic figures, cosmic +graphs which remain among the aboriginal peoples in all continents, +mystic figures and signs whose true cosmic or scientific significance +is lost, yet which continue in use for purposes of conjuring or +divining. + +If my reader finds this bosh and abracadabra, all right for him. Only +I have no more regard for his little crowings on his own little +dunghill. Myself, I am not so sure that I am one of the +one-and-onlies. I like the wide world of centuries and vast +ages--mammoth worlds beyond our day, and mankind so wonderful in his +distances, his history that has no beginning yet always the pomp and +the magnificence of human splendor unfolding through the earth's +changing periods. Floods and fire and convulsions and ice-arrest +intervene between the great glamorous civilizations of mankind. But +nothing will ever quench humanity and the human potentiality to evolve +something magnificent out of a renewed chaos. + +I do not believe in evolution, but in the strangeness and +rainbow-change of ever-renewed creative civilizations. + +So much, then, for my claim to remarkable discoveries. I believe I am +only trying to stammer out the first terms of a forgotten knowledge. +But I have no desire to revive dead kings, or dead sages. It is not +for me to arrange fossils, and decipher hieroglyphic phrases. I +couldn't do it if I wanted to. But then I can do something else. The +soul must take the hint from the relics our scientists have so +marvelously gathered out of the forgotten past, and from the hint +develop a new living utterance. The spark is from dead wisdom, but the +fire is life. + +And as an example--a very simple one--of how a scientist of the most +innocent modern sort may hint at truths which, when stated, he would +laugh at as fantastic nonsense, let us quote a word from the already +old-fashioned "Golden Bough." "It must have appeared to the ancient +Aryan that the sun was periodically recruited from the fire which +resided in the sacred oak." + +Exactly. The fire which resided in the Tree of Life. That is, life +itself. So we must read: "It must have appeared to the ancient Aryan +that the sun was periodically recruited from life."--Which is what the +early Greek philosophers were always saying. And which still seems to +me the real truth, the clue to the cosmos. Instead of life being drawn +from the sun, it is the emanation from life itself, that is, from all +the living plants and creatures which nourish the sun. + +Of course, my dear critic, the ancient Aryans were just doddering--the +old duffers: or babbling, the babes. But as for me, I have some +respect for my ancestors, and believe they had more up their sleeve +than just the marvel of the unborn me. + +One last weary little word. This pseudo-philosophy of +mine--"pollyanalytics," as one of my respected critics might say--is +deduced from the novels and poems, not the reverse. The novels and poems +come unwatched out of one's pen. And then the absolute need which one has +for some sort of satisfactory mental attitude towards oneself and things in +general makes one try to abstract some definite conclusions from one's +experiences as a writer and as a man. The novels and poems are pure +passionate experience. These "pollyanalytics" are inferences made +afterwards, from the experience. + +And finally, it seems to me that even art is utterly dependent on +philosophy: or if you prefer it, on a metaphysic. The metaphysic or +philosophy may not be anywhere very accurately stated and may be quite +unconscious, in the artist, yet it is a metaphysic that governs men at +the time, and is by all men more or less comprehended, and lived. Men +live and see according to some gradually developing and gradually +withering vision. This vision exists also as a dynamic idea or +metaphysic--exists first as such. Then it is unfolded into life and +art. Our vision, our belief, our metaphysic is wearing woefully thin, +and the art is wearing absolutely threadbare. We have no future; +neither for our hopes nor our aims nor our art. It has all gone gray +and opaque. + +We've got to rip the old veil of a vision across, and find what the +heart really believes in, after all: and what the heart really wants, +for the next future. And we've got to put it down in terms of belief +and of knowledge. And then go forward again, to the fulfillment in +life and art. + +Rip the veil of the old vision across, and walk through the rent. And +if I try to do this--well, why not? If I try to write down what I +see--why not? If a publisher likes to print the book--all right. And +if anybody wants to read it, let him. But why anybody should read one +single word if he doesn't want to, I don't see. Unless of course he is +a critic who needs to scribble a dollar's worth of words, no matter +how. + +TAORMINA + +October 8, 1921 + + + + +FANTASIA OF THE UNCONSCIOUS + +CHAPTER I + +INTRODUCTION + + +Let us start by making a little apology to Psychoanalysis. It wasn't +fair to jeer at the psychoanalytic unconscious; or perhaps it _was_ +fair to jeer at the psychoanalytic unconscious, which is truly a +negative quantity and an unpleasant menagerie. What was really not +fair was to jeer at Psychoanalysis as if Freud had invented and +described nothing but an unconscious, in all his theory. + +The unconscious is not, of course, the clue to the Freudian theory. +The real clue is sex. A sexual motive is to be attributed to all human +activity. + +Now this is going too far. We are bound to admit than an element of +sex enters into all human activity. But so does an element of greed, +and of many other things. We are bound to admit that into all human +relationships, particularly adult human relationships, a large +element of sex enters. We are thankful that Freud has insisted on +this. We are thankful that Freud pulled us somewhat to earth, out of +all our clouds of superfineness. What Freud says is always _partly_ +true. And half a loaf is better than no bread. + +But really, there is the other half of the loaf. All is _not_ sex. And +a sexual motive is _not_ to be attributed to all human activities. We +know it, without need to argue. + +Sex surely has a specific meaning. Sex means the being divided into +male and female; and the magnetic desire or impulse which puts male +apart from female, in a negative or sundering magnetism, but which +also draws male and female together in a long and infinitely varied +approach towards the critical act of coition. Sex without the +consummating act of coition is never quite sex, in human +relationships: just as a eunuch is never quite a man. That is to say, +the act of coition is the essential clue to sex. + +Now does all life work up to the one consummating act of coition? In +one direction, it does, and it would be better if psychoanalysis +plainly said so. In one direction, all life works up to the one +supreme moment of coition. Let us all admit it, sincerely. + +But we are not confined to one direction only, or to one exclusive +consummation. Was the building of the cathedrals a working up towards +the act of coition? Was the dynamic impulse sexual? No. The sexual +element was present, and important. But not predominant. The same in +the building of the Panama Canal. The sexual impulse, in its widest +form, was a very great impulse towards the building of the Panama +Canal. But there was something else, of even higher importance, and +greater dynamic power. + +And what is this other, greater impulse? It is the desire of the human +male to build a world: not "to build a world for you, dear"; but to +build up out of his own self and his own belief and his own effort +something wonderful. Not merely something useful. Something wonderful. +Even the Panama Canal would never have been built _simply_ to let +ships through. It is the pure disinterested craving of the human male +to make something wonderful, out of his own head and his own self, and +his own soul's faith and delight, which starts everything going. This +is the prime motivity. And the motivity of sex is subsidiary to this: +often directly antagonistic. + +That is, the essentially religious or creative motive is the first +motive for all human activity. The sexual motive comes second. And +there is a great conflict between the interests of the two, at all +times. + +What we want to do, is to trace the creative or religious motive to +its source in the human being, keeping in mind always the near +relationship between the religious motive and the sexual. The two +great impulses are like man and wife, or father and son. It is no use +putting one under the feet of the other. + +The great desire to-day is to deny the religious impulse altogether, +or else to assert its absolute alienity from the sexual impulse. The +orthodox religious world says faugh! to sex. Whereupon we thank Freud +for giving them tit for tat. But the orthodox scientific world says +fie! to the religious impulse. The scientist wants to discover a cause +for everything. And there is no cause for the religious impulse. Freud +is with the scientists. Jung dodges from his university gown into a +priest's surplice till we don't know where we are. We prefer Freud's +_Sex_ to Jung's _Libido_ or Bergson's _Elan Vital_. Sex has at least +_some_ definite reference, though when Freud makes sex accountable for +everything he as good as makes it accountable for nothing. + +We refuse any _Cause_, whether it be Sex or Libido or Elan Vital or +ether or unit of force or _perpetuum mobile_ or anything else. But +also we feel that we cannot, like Moses, perish on the top of our +present ideal Pisgah, or take the next step into thin air. There we +are, at the top of our Pisgah of ideals, crying _Excelsior_ and trying +to clamber up into the clouds: that is, if we are idealists with the +religious impulse rampant in our breasts. If we are scientists we +practice aeroplane flying or eugenics or disarmament or something +equally absurd. + +The promised land, if it be anywhere, lies away beneath our feet. No +more prancing upwards. No more uplift. No more little Excelsiors +crying world-brotherhood and international love and Leagues of +Nations. Idealism and materialism amount to the same thing on top of +Pisgah, and the space is _very_ crowded. We're all cornered on our +mountain top, climbing up one another and standing on one another's +faces in our scream of Excelsior. + +To your tents, O Israel! Brethren, let us go down. We will descend. +The way to our precious Canaan lies obviously downhill. An end of +uplift. Downhill to the land of milk and honey. The blood will soon be +flowing faster than either, but we can't help that. We can't help it +if Canaan has blood in its veins, instead of pure milk and honey. + +If it is a question of origins, the origin is always the same, +whatever we say about it. So is the cause. Let that be a comfort to +us. If we want to talk about God, well, we can please ourselves. God +has been talked about quite a lot, and He doesn't seem to mind. Why we +should take it so personally is a problem. Likewise if we wish to have +a tea party with the atom, let us: or with the wriggling little unit +of energy, or the ether, or the Libido, or the Elan Vital, or any +other Cause. Only don't let us have sex for tea. We've all got too +much of it under the table; and really, for my part, I prefer to keep +mine there, no matter what the Freudians say about me. + +But it is tiring to go to any more tea parties with the Origin, or the +Cause, or even the Lord. Let us pronounce the mystic Om, from the pit +of the stomach, and proceed. + +There's not a shadow of doubt about it, the First Cause is just +unknowable to us, and we'd be sorry if it wasn't. Whether it's God or +the Atom. All I say is Om! + +The first business of every faith is to declare its ignorance. I don't +know where I come from--nor where I exit to. I don't know the origins +of life nor the goal of death. I don't know how the two parent cells +which are my biological origin became the me which I am. I don't in +the least know what those two parent cells were. The chemical analysis +is just a farce, and my father and mother were just vehicles. And yet, +I must say, since I've got to know about the two cells, I'm glad I do +know. + +The Moses of Science and the Aaron of Idealism have got the whole +bunch of us here on top of Pisgah. It's a tight squeeze, and we'll be +falling very, very foul of one another in five minutes, unless some of +us climb down. But before leaving our eminence let us have a look +round, and get our bearings. + +They say that way lies the New Jerusalem of universal love: and over +there the happy valley of indulgent Pragmatism: and there, quite near, is +the chirpy land of the Vitalists: and in those dark groves the home of +successful Analysis, surnamed Psycho: and over those blue hills the +Supermen are prancing about, though you can't see them. And there is +Besantheim, and there is Eddyhowe, and there, on that queer little +tableland, is Wilsonia, and just round the corner is Rabindranathopolis.... + +But Lord, I can't see anything. Help me, heaven, to a telescope, for I +see blank nothing. + +I'm not going to try any more. I'm going to sit down on my posterior +and sluther full speed down this Pisgah, even if it cost me my trouser +seat. So ho!--away we go. + +In the beginning--there never was any beginning, but let it pass. +We've got to make a start somehow. In the very beginning of all +things, time and space and cosmos and being, in the beginning of all +these was a little living creature. But I don't know even if it was +little. In the beginning was a living creature, its plasm quivering +and its life-pulse throbbing. This little creature died, as little +creatures always do. But not before it had had young ones. When the +daddy creature died, it fell to pieces. And that was the beginning of +the cosmos. Its little body fell down to a speck of dust, which the +young ones clung to because they must cling to something. Its little +breath flew asunder, the hotness and brightness of the little beast--I +beg your pardon, I mean the radiant energy from the corpse flew away +to the right hand, and seemed to shine warm in the air, while the +clammy energy from the body flew away to the left hand, and seemed +dark and cold. And so, the first little master was dead and done for, +and instead of his little living body there was a speck of dust in the +middle, which became the earth, and on the right hand was a brightness +which became the sun, rampaging with all the energy that had come out +of the dead little master, and on the left hand a darkness which felt +like an unrisen moon. And that was how the Lord created the world. +Except that I know nothing about the Lord, so I shouldn't mention it. + +But I forgot the soul of the little master. It probably did a bit of +flying as well--and then came back to the young ones. It seems most +natural that way. + +Which is my account of the Creation. And I mean by it, that Life is +not and never was anything but living creatures. That's what life is +and will be just living creatures, no matter how large you make the +capital L. Out of living creatures the material cosmos was made: out +of the death of living creatures, when their little living bodies fell +dead and fell asunder into all sorts of matter and forces and +energies, sun, moons, stars and worlds. So you got the universe. Where +you got the living creature from, that first one, don't ask me. He was +just there. But he was a little person with a soul of his own. He +wasn't Life with a capital L. + +If you don't believe me, then don't. I'll even give you a little song +to sing. + + "If it be not true to me + What care I how true it be . ." + +That's the kind of man I really like, chirping his insouciance. And I +chirp back: + + "Though it be not true to thee + It's gay and gospel truth to me. . ." + +The living live, and then die. They pass away, as we know, to dust and +to oxygen and nitrogen and so on. But what we don't know, and what we +might perhaps know a little more, is how they pass away direct into +life itself--that is, direct into the living. That is, how many dead +souls fly over our untidiness like swallows and build under the eaves +of the living. How many dead souls, like swallows, twitter and breed +thoughts and instincts under the thatch of my hair and the eaves of my +forehead, I don't know. But I believe a good many. And I hope they +have a good time. And I hope not too many are bats. + +I am sorry to say I believe in the souls of the dead. I am almost +ashamed to say, that I believe the souls of the dead in some way +reënter and pervade the souls of the living: so that life is always +the life of living creatures, and death is always our affair. This +bit, I admit, is bordering on mysticism. I'm sorry, because I don't +like mysticism. It has no trousers and no trousers seat: _n'a pas de +quoi_. And I should feel so uncomfortable if I put my hand behind me +and felt an absolute blank. + +Meanwhile a long, thin, brown caterpillar keeps on pretending to be a +dead thin beech-twig, on a little bough at my feet. He had got his +hind feet and his fore feet on the twig, and his body looped up like +an arch in the air between, when a fly walked up the twig and began to +mount the arch of the imitator, not having the least idea that it was +on a gentleman's coat-tails. The caterpillar shook his stern, and the +fly made off as if it had seen a ghost. The dead twig and the live +twig now remain equally motionless, enjoying their different ways. And +when, with this very pencil, I push the head of the caterpillar off +from the twig, he remains on his tail, arched forward in air, and +oscillating unhappily, like some tiny pendulum ticking. Ticking, +ticking in mid-air, arched away from his planted tail. Till at last, +after a long minute and a half, he touches the twig again, and +subsides into twigginess. The only thing is, the dead beech-twig can't +pretend to be a wagging caterpillar. Yet how the two commune! +However--we have our exits and our entrances, and one man in his time +plays many parts. More than he dreams of, poor darling. And I am +entirely at a loss for a moral! + +Well, then, we are born. I suppose that's a safe statement. And we +become at once conscious, if we weren't so before. _Nem con._ And our +little baby body is a little functioning organism, a little developing +machine or instrument or organ, and our little baby mind begins to +stir with all our wonderful psychical beginnings. And so we are in +bud. + +But it won't do. It is too much of a Pisgah sight. We overlook too +much. _Descendez, cher Moïse. Vous voyez trop loin._ You see too far +all at once, dear Moses. Too much of a bird's-eye view across the +Promised Land to the shore. Come down, and walk across, old fellow. +And you won't see all that milk and honey and grapes the size of +duck's eggs. All the dear little budding infant with its tender +virginal mind and various clouds of glory instead of a napkin. Not at +all, my dear chap. No such luck of a promised land. + +Climb down, Pisgah, and go to Jericho. _Allons_, there is no road yet, +but we are all Aarons with rods of our own. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE HOLY FAMILY + + +We are all very pleased with Mr. Einstein for knocking that eternal +axis out of the universe. The universe isn't a spinning wheel. It is a +cloud of bees flying and veering round. Thank goodness for that, for +we were getting drunk on the spinning wheel. + +So that now the universe has escaped from the pin which was pushed +through it, like an impaled fly vainly buzzing: now that the multiple +universe flies its own complicated course quite free, and hasn't got +any hub, we can hope also to escape. + +We won't be pinned down, either. We have no one law that governs us. +For me there is only one law: _I am I._ And that isn't a law, it's +just a remark. One is one, but one is not all alone. There are other +stars buzzing in the center of their own isolation. And there is no +straight path between them. There is no straight path between you and +me, dear reader, so don't blame me if my words fly like dust into +your eyes and grit between your teeth, instead of like music into your +ears. I am I, but also you are you, and we are in sad need of a theory +of human relativity. We need it much more than the universe does. The +stars know how to prowl round one another without much damage done. +But you and I, dear reader, in the first conviction that you are me +and that I am you, owing to the oneness of mankind, why, we are always +falling foul of one another, and chewing each other's fur. + +You are _not_ me, dear reader, so make no pretentions to it. Don't get +alarmed if _I_ say things. It isn't your sacred mouth which is opening +and shutting. As for the profanation of your sacred ears, just apply a +little theory of relativity, and realize that what I say is not what +you hear, but something uttered in the midst of my isolation, and +arriving strangely changed and travel-worn down the long curve of your +own individual circumambient atmosphere. I may say Bob, but heaven +alone knows what the goose hears. And you may be sure that a red rag +is, to a bull, something far more mysterious and complicated than a +socialist's necktie. + +So I hope now I have put you in your place, dear reader. Sit you like +Watts' Hope on your own little blue globe, and I'll sit on mine, and +we won't bump into one another if we can help it. You can twang your +old hopeful lyre. It may be music to you, so I don't blame you. It is +a terrible wowing in my ears. But that may be something in my +individual atmosphere; some strange deflection as your music crosses +the space between us. Certainly I never hear the concert of World +Regeneration and Hope Revived Again without getting a sort of +lock-jaw, my teeth go so keen on edge from the twanging harmony. +Still, the world-regenerators may _really_ be quite excellent +performers on their own jews'-harps. Blame the edginess of my teeth. + +Now I am going to launch words into space so mind your cosmic eye. + +As I said in my small but naturally immortal book, "Psychoanalysis and +the Unconscious," there's more in it than meets the eye. There's more +in you, dear reader, than meets the eye. What, don't you believe it? +Do you think you're as obvious as a poached egg on a piece of toast, +like the poor lunatic? Not a bit of it, dear reader. You've got a +solar plexus, and a lumbar ganglion not far from your liver, and I'm +going to tell everybody. Nothing brings a man home to himself like +telling everybody. And I _will_ drive you home to yourself, do you +hear? You've been poaching in my private atmospheric grounds long +enough, identifying yourself with me and me with everybody. A nice row +there'd be in heaven if Aldebaran caught Sirius by the tail and said, +"Look here, you're not to look so green, you damm dog-star! It's an +offense against star-regulations." + +Which reminds me that the Arabs say the shooting stars, meteorites, +are starry stones which the angels fling at the poaching demons whom +they catch sight of prowling too near the palisades of heaven. I must +say I like Arab angels. My heaven would coruscate like a catherine +wheel, with white-hot star-stones. Away, you dog, you prowling +cur.--Got him under the left ear-hole, Gabriel--! See him, see him, +Michael? That hopeful blue devil! Land him one! Biff on your bottom, +you hoper. + +But I wish the Arabs wouldn't entice me, or you, dear reader, provoke +me to this. I feel with you, dear reader, as I do with a deaf-man when +he pushes his vulcanite ear, his listening machine, towards my mouth. +I want to shout down the telephone ear-hole all kinds of improper +things, to see what effect they will have on the stupid dear face at +the end of the coil of wire. After all, words must be very different +after they've trickled round and round a long wire coil. Whatever +becomes of them! And I, who am a bit deaf myself, and may in the end +have a deaf-machine to poke at my friends, it ill becomes me to be so +unkind, yet that's how I feel. So there we are. + +Help me to be serious, dear reader. + +In that little book, "Psychoanalysis and the Unconscious," I tried +rather wistfully to convince you, dear reader, that you had a solar +plexus and a lumbar ganglion and a few other things. I don't know why +I took the trouble. If a fellow doesn't believe he's got a nose, the +best way to convince him is gently to waft a little pepper into his +nostrils. And there was I painting my own nose purple, and wistfully +inviting you to look and believe. No more, though. + +You've got first and foremost a solar plexus, dear reader; and the +solar plexus is a great nerve center which lies behind your stomach. I +can't be accused of impropriety or untruth, because any book of +science or medicine which deals with the nerve-system of the human +body will show it to you quite plainly. So don't wriggle or try to +look spiritual. Because, willy-nilly, you've got a solar plexus, dear +reader, among other things. I'm writing a good sound science book, +which there's no gainsaying. + +Now, your solar plexus, most gentle of readers, is where you are you. +It is your first and greatest and deepest center of consciousness. If +you want to know _how_ conscious and _when_ conscious, I must refer +you to that little book, "Psychoanalysis and the Unconscious." + +At your solar plexus you are primarily conscious: there, behind you +stomach. There you have the profound and pristine conscious awareness +that you are you. Don't say you haven't. I know you have. You might as +well try to deny the nose on your face. There is your first and +deepest seat of awareness. There you are triumphantly aware of your +own individual existence in the universe. Absolutely there is the keep +and central stronghold of your triumphantly-conscious self. There you +_are_, and you know it. So stick out your tummy gaily, my dear, with a +_Me voilà_. With a _Here I am!_ With an _Ecco mi!_ With a _Da bin +ich!_ There you are, dearie. + +But not only a triumphant awareness that _There you are_. An exultant +awareness also that outside this quiet gate, this navel, lies a whole +universe on which you can lay tribute. Aha--at birth you closed the +central gate for ever. Too dangerous to leave it open. Too near the +quick. But there are other gates. There are eyes and mouths and ears +and nostrils, besides the two lower gates of the passionate body, and +the closed but not locked gates of the breasts. Many gates. And +besides the actual gates, the marvelous wireless communication between +the great center and the surrounding or contiguous world. + +Authorized science tells you that this first great plexus, this +all-potent nerve-center of consciousness and dynamic life-activity is +a sympathetic center. From the solar plexus as from your castle-keep +you look around and see the fair lands smiling, the corn and fruit and +cattle of your increase, the cottages of your dependents and the halls +of your beloveds. From the solar plexus you know that all the world is +yours, and all is goodly. + +This is the great center, where in the womb, your life first sparkled +in individuality. This is the center that drew the gestating maternal +blood-stream upon you, in the nine-months lurking, drew it on you for +your increase. This is the center whence the navel-string broke, but +where the invisible string of dynamic consciousness, like a dark +electric current connecting you with the rest of life, will never +break until you die and depart from corporate individuality. + +They say, by the way, that doctors now perform a little operation on +the born baby, so that no more navel shows. No more belly-buttons, +dear reader! Lucky I caught you this generation, before the doctors +had saved your appearances. Yet, _caro mio_, whether it shows or not, +there you once had immediate connection with the maternal +blood-stream. And, because the male nucleus which derived from the +father still lies sparkling and potent within the solar plexus, +therefore that great nerve-center of you, still has immediate +knowledge of your father, a subtler but still vital connection. We +call it the tie of blood. So be it. It is a tie of blood. But much +more definite than we imagine. For true it is that the one bright male +germ which went to your begetting was drawn from the blood of the +father. And true it is that that same bright male germ lies unquenched +and unquenchable at the center of you, within the famous solar plexus. +And furthermore true is it that this unquenched father-spark within +you sends forth vibrations and dark currents of vital activity all the +time; connecting direct with your father. You will never be able to +get away from it while you live. + +The connection with the mother may be more obvious. Is there not your +ostensible navel, where the rupture between you and her took place? +But because the mother-child relation is more plausible and flagrant, +is that any reason for supposing it deeper, more vital, more +intrinsic? Not a bit. Because if the large parent mother-germ still +lives and acts vividly and mysteriously in the great fused nucleus of +your solar plexus, does the smaller, brilliant male-spark that derived +from your father act any less vividly? By no means. It is +different--it is less ostensible. It may be even in magnitude smaller. +But it may be even more vivid, even more intrinsic. So beware how you +deny the father-quick of yourself. You may be denying the most +intrinsic quick of all. + +In the same way it follows that, since brothers and sisters have the +same father and mother, therefore in every brother and sister there is +a direct communication such as can never happen between strangers. The +parent nuclei do not die within the new nucleus. They remain there, +marvelous naked sparkling dynamic life-centers, nodes, well-heads of +vivid life itself. Therefore in every individual the parent nuclei +live, and give direction connection, blood connection we call it, with +the rest of the family. It _is_ blood connection. For the fecundating +nuclei are the very spark-essence of the blood. And while life lives +the parent nuclei maintain their own centrality and dynamic +effectiveness within the solar plexus of the child. So that every +individual has mother and father both sparkling within himself. + +But this is rather a preliminary truth than an intrinsic truth. The +intrinsic truth of every individual is the new unit of unique +individuality which emanates from the fusion of the parent nuclei. +This is the incalculable and intangible Holy Ghost each time--each +individual his own Holy Ghost. When, at the moment of conception, the +two parent nuclei fuse to form a new unit of life, then takes place +the great mystery of creation. A new individual appears--not the +result of the fusion merely. Something more. The quality of +individuality cannot be derived. The new individual, in his singleness +of self, is a perfectly new whole. He is not a permutation and +combination of old elements, transferred through the parents. No, he +is something underived and utterly unprecedented, unique, a new soul. + +This quality of pure individuality is, however, only the one supreme +quality. It consummates all other qualities, but does not consume +them. All the others are there, all the time. And only at his maximum +does an individual surpass all his derivative elements, and become +purely himself. And most people never get there. In his own pure +individuality a man surpasses his father and mother, and is utterly +unknown to them. "Woman, what have I to do with thee?" But this does +not alter the fact that within him lives the mother-quick and the +father-quick, and that though in his wholeness he is rapt away beyond +the old mother-father connections, they are still there within him, +consummated but not consumed. Nor does it alter the fact that very few +people surpass their parents nowadays, and attain any individuality +beyond them. Most men are half-born slaves: the little soul they are +born with just atrophies, and merely the organism emanates, the new +self, the new soul, the new swells into manhood, like big potatoes. + +So there we are. But considering man at his best, he is at the start +faced with the great problem. At the very start he has to undertake +his tripartite being, the mother within him, the father within him, +and the Holy Ghost, the self which he is supposed to consummate, and +which mostly he doesn't. + +And there it is, a hard physiological fact. At the moment of our +conception, the father nucleus fuses with the mother nucleus, and the +wonder emanates, the new self, the new soul, the new individual cell. +But in the new individual cell the father-germ and the mother-germ do +not relinquish their identity. There they remain still, incorporated +and never extinguished. And so, the blood-stream of race is one +stream, for ever. But the moment the mystery of pure individual +newness ceased to be enacted and fulfilled, the blood-stream would dry +up and be finished. Mankind would die out. + +Let us go back then to the solar plexus. There sparkle the included +mother-germ and father-germ, giving us direct, immediate blood-bonds, +family connection. The connection is as direct and as subtle as +between the Marconi stations, two great wireless stations. A family, +if you like, is a group of wireless stations, all adjusted to the +same, or very much the same vibration. All the time they quiver with +the interchange, there is one long endless flow of vitalistic +communication between members of one family, a long, strange +_rapport_, a sort of life-unison. It is a ripple of life through many +bodies as through one body. But all the time there is the jolt, the +rupture of individualism, the individual asserting himself beyond all +ties or claims. The highest goal for every man is the goal of pure +individual being. But it is a goal you cannot reach by the mere +rupture of all ties. A child isn't born by being torn from the womb. +When it is born by natural process that is rupture enough. But even +then the ties are not broken. They are only subtilized. + +From the solar plexus first of all pass the great vitalistic +communications between child and parents, the first interplay of +primal, pre-mental knowledge and sympathy. It is a great subtle +interplay, and from this interplay the child is built up, body and +psyche. Impelled from the primal conscious center in the abdomen, the +child seeks the mother, seeks the breast, opens a blind mouth and +gropes for the nipple. Not mentally directed and yet certainly +directed. Directed from the dark pre-mind center of the solar plexus. +From this center the child seeks, the mother knows. Hence the true +mindlessness of the pristine, healthy mother. She does not need to +think, mentally to know. She knows so profoundly and actively at the +great abdominal life-center. + +But if the child thus seeks the mother, does it then know the mother +alone? To an infant the mother is the whole universe. Yet the child +needs more than the mother. It needs as well the presence of men, the +vibration from the present body of the man. There may not be any +actual, palpable connection. But from the great voluntary center in +the man pass unknowable communications and unreliable nourishment of +the stream of manly blood, rays which we cannot see, and which so far +we have refused to know, but none the less essential, quickening dark +rays which pass from the great dark abdominal life-center in the +father to the corresponding center in the child. And these rays, these +vibrations, are not like the mother-vibrations. Far, far from it. They +do not need the actual contact, the handling and the caressing. On the +contrary, the true male instinct is to avoid physical contact with a +baby. It may not need even actual presence. But present or absent, +there should be between the baby and the father that strange, +intangible communication, that strange pull and circuit such as the +magnetic pole exercises upon a needle, a vitalistic pull and flow +which lays all the life-plasm of the baby into the line of vital +quickening, strength, knowing. And any lack of this vital circuit, +this vital interchange between father and child, man and child, means +an inevitable impoverishment to the infant. + +The child exists in the interplay of two great life-waves, the womanly +and the male. In appearance, the mother is everything. In truth, the +father has actively very little part. It does not matter much if he +hardly sees his child. Yet see it he should, sometimes, and touch it +sometimes, and renew with it the connection, the life-circuit, not +allow it to lapse, and so vitally starve his child. + +But remember, dear reader, please, that there is not the slightest +need for you to believe me, or even read me. Remember, it's just your +own affair. Don't implicate me. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +PLEXUSES, PLANES AND SO ON + + +The primal consciousness in man is pre-mental, and has nothing to do +with cognition. It is the same as in the animals. And this pre-mental +consciousness remains as long as we live the powerful root and body of +our consciousness. The mind is but the last flower, the _cul de sac_. + +The first seat of our primal consciousnesses the solar plexus, the +great nerve-center situated behind the stomach. From this center we +are first dynamically conscious. For the primal consciousness is +always dynamic, and never, like mental consciousness, static. Thought, +let us say what we will about its magic powers, is instrumental only, +the soul's finest instrument for the business of living. Thought is +just a means to action and living. But life and action take rise +actually at the great centers of dynamic consciousness. + +The solar plexus, the greatest and most important center of our +dynamic consciousness, is a sympathetic center. At this main center of +your first-mind we know as we can never mentally know. Primarily we +know, each man, each living creature knows, profoundly and +satisfactorily and without question, that _I am I._ This root of all +knowledge and being is established in the solar plexus; it is dynamic, +pre-mental knowledge, such as cannot be transferred into thought. Do +not ask me to transfer the pre-mental dynamic knowledge into thought. +It cannot be done. The knowledge that _I am I_ can never be thought: +only known. + +This being the very first term of our life-knowledge, a knowledge +established physically and psychically the moment the two parent +nuclei fused, at the moment of the conception, it remains integral as +a piece of knowledge in every subsequent nucleus derived from this one +original. But yet the original nucleus, formed from the two parent +nuclei at our conception, remains always primal and central, and is +always the original fount and home of the first and supreme knowledge +that _I am I._ This original nucleus is embodied in the solar plexus. + +But the original nucleus divides. The first division, as science +knows, is a division of recoil. From the perfect oneing of the two +parent nuclei in the egg-cell results a recoil or new assertion. That +which was perfect _one_ now divides again, and in the recoil becomes +again two. + +This second nucleus, the nucleus born of recoil, is the nuclear origin +of all the great nuclei of the voluntary system, which are the nuclei +of assertive individualism. And it remains central in the adult human +body as it was in the egg-cell. In the adult human body the first +nucleus of independence, first-born from the great original nucleus of +our conception, lies always established in the lumbar ganglion. Here +we have our positive center of independence, in a multifarious +universe. + +At the solar plexus, the dynamic knowledge is this, that _I am I._ The +solar plexus is the center of all the sympathetic system. The great +prime knowledge is sympathetic in nature. I am I, in vital centrality. +I am I, the vital center of all things. I am I, the clew to the whole. +All is one with me. It is the one identity. + +But at the lumbar ganglion, which is the center of separate identity, +the knowledge is of a different mode, though the term is the same. At +the lumbar ganglion I know that I am I, in distinction from a whole +universe, which is not as I am. This is the first tremendous flash of +knowledge of singleness and separate identity. I am I, not because I +am at one with all the universe, but because I am other than all the +universe. It is my distinction from all the rest of things which makes +me myself. Because I am set utterly apart and distinguished from all +that is the rest of the universe, therefore _I am I._ And this root of +our knowledge in separateness lies rooted all the time in the lumbar +ganglion. It is the second term of our dynamic psychic existence. + +It is from the great sympathetic center of the solar plexus that the +child rejoices in the mother and in its own blissful centrality, its +unison with the as yet unknown universe. Look at the pictures of +Madonna and Child, and you will even _see_ it. It is from this center +that it draws all things unto itself, winningly, drawing love for the +soul, and actively drawing in milk. The same center controls the great +intake of love and of milk, of psychic and of physical nourishment. + +And it is from the great voluntary center of the lumbar ganglion that +the child asserts its distinction from the mother, the single identity +of its own existence, and its power over its surroundings. From this +center issues the violent little pride and lustiness which kicks with +glee, or crows with tiny exultance in its own being, or which claws +the breast with a savage little rapacity, and an incipient +masterfulness of which every mother is aware. This incipient mastery, +this sheer joy of a young thing in its own single existence, the +marvelous playfulness of early youth, and the roguish mockery of the +mother's love, as well as the bursts of temper and rage, all belong to +infancy. And all this flashes spontaneously, _must_ flash +spontaneously from the first great center of independence, the +powerful lumbar ganglion, great dynamic center of all the voluntary +system, of all the spirit of pride and joy in independent existence. +And it is from this center too that the milk is urged away down the +infant bowels, urged away towards excretion. The motion is the same, +but here it applies to the material, not to the vital relation. It is +from the lumbar ganglion that the dynamic vibrations are emitted which +thrill from the stomach and bowels, and promote the excremental +function of digestion. It is the solar plexus which controls the +assimilatory function in digestion. + +So, in the first division of the egg-cell is set up the first plane of +psychic and physical life, remaining radically the same throughout the +whole existence of the individual. The two original nuclei of the +egg-cell remain the same two original nuclei within the corpus of the +adult individual. Their psychic and their physical dynamic is the same +in the solar plexus and lumbar ganglion as in the two nuclei of the +egg-cell. The first great division in the egg remains always the same, +the unchanging great division in the psychic and the physical +structure; the unchanging great division in knowledge and function. It +is a division into polarized duality, psychical and physical, of the +human being. It is the great vertical division of the egg-cell, and of +the nature of man. + +Then, this division having taken place, there is a new thrill of +conjunction or collision between the divided nuclei, and at once the +second birth takes place. The two nuclei now split horizontally. There +is a horizontal division across the whole egg-cell, and the nuclei are +now four, two above, and two below. But those below retain their +original nature, those above are new in nature. And those above +correspond again to those below. + +In the developed child, the great horizontal division of the egg-cell, +resulting in four nuclei, this remains the same. The horizontal +division-wall is the diaphragm. The two upper nuclei are the two +great nerve-centers, the cardiac plexus and the thoracic ganglion. We +have again a sympathetic center primal in activity and knowledge, and +a corresponding voluntary center. In the center of the breast, the +cardiac plexus acts as the great sympathetic mode of new dynamic +activity, new dynamic consciousness. And near the spine, by the wall +of the shoulders, the thoracic ganglion acts as the powerful voluntary +center of separateness and power, in the same vertical line as the +lumbar ganglion, but horizontally so different. + +Now we must change our whole feeling. We must put off the deep way of +understanding which belongs to the lower body of our nature, and +transfer ourselves into the upper plane, where being and functioning +are different. + +At the cardiac plexus, there in the center of the breast, we have now +a new great sun of knowledge and being. Here there is no more of self. +Here there is no longer the dark, exultant knowledge that _I am I._ A +change has come. Here I know no more of myself. Here I am not. Here I +only know the delightful revelation that you are you. The wonder is no +longer within me, my own dark, centrifugal, exultant self. The wonder +is without me. The wonder is outside me. And I can no longer exult +and know myself the dark, central sun of the universe. Now I look with +wonder, with tenderness, with joyful yearning towards that which is +outside me, beyond me, not me. Behold, that which was once negative +has now become the only positive. The other being is now the great +positive reality, I myself am as nothing. Positivity has changed +places. + +If we want to see the portrayed look, then we must turn to the North, +to the fair, wondering, blue-eyed infants of the Northern masters. +They seem so frail, so innocent and wondering, touching outwards to +the mystery. They are not the same as the Southern child, nor the +opposite. Their whole life mystery is different. Instead of +consummating all things within themselves, as the dark little Southern +infants do, the Northern Jesus-children reach out delicate little +hands of wondering innocence towards delicate, flower-reverential +mothers. Compare a Botticelli Madonna, with all her wounded and +abnegating sensuality, with a Hans Memling Madonna, whose soul is pure +and only reverential. Beyond me is the mystery and the glory, says the +Northern mother: let me have no self, let me only seek that which is +all-pure, all-wonderful. But the Southern mother says: This is mine, +this is mine, this is my child, my wonder, my master, my lord, my +scourge, my own. + +From the cardiac plexus the child goes forth in bliss. It seeks the +revelation of the unknown. It wonderingly seeks the mother. It opens +its small hands and spreads its small fingers to touch her. And bliss, +bliss, bliss, it meets the wonder in mid-air and in mid-space it finds +the loveliness of the mother's face. It opens and shuts its little +fingers with bliss, it laughs the wonderful, selfless laugh of pure +baby-bliss, in the first ecstasy of finding all its treasure, groping +upon it and finding it in the dark. It opens wide, child-wide eyes to +see, to see. But it cannot see. It is puzzled, it wrinkles its face. +But when the mother puts her face quite near, and laughs and coos, +then the baby trembles with an ecstasy of love. The glamour, the +wonder, the treasure beyond. The great uplift of rapture. All this +surges from that first center of the breast, the sun of the breast, +the cardiac plexus. + +And from the same center acts the great function of the heart and +breath. Ah, the aspiration, the aspiration, like a hope, like a +yearning constant and unfailing with which we take in breath. When we +breathe, when we take in breath, it is not as when we take in food. +When we breathe in we aspire, we yearn towards the heaven of air and +light. And when the heart dilates to draw in the stream of dark blood, +it opens its arms as to a beloved. It dilates with reverent joy, as a +host opening his doors to an honored guest, whom he delights to serve: +opening his doors to the wonder which comes to him from beyond, and +without which he were nothing. + +So it is that our heart dilates, our lungs expand. They are bidden by +that great and mysterious impulse from the cardiac plexus, which bids +them seek the mystery and the fulfillment of the beyond. They seek the +beyond, the air of the sky, the hot blood from the dark under-world. +And so we live. + +And then, they relax, they contract. They are driven by the opposite +motion from the powerful voluntary center of the thoracic ganglion.. +That which was drawn in, was invited, is now relinquished, allowed to +go forth, negatively. Not positively dismissed, but relinquished. + +There is a wonderful complementary duality between the voluntary and +the sympathetic activity on the same plane. But between the two +planes, upper and lower, there is a further dualism, still more +startling, perhaps. Between the dark, glowing first term of knowledge +at the solar plexus: _I am I, all is one in me_; and the first term of +volitional knowledge: _I am myself, and these others are not as I +am_;--there is a world of difference. But when the world changes +again, and on the upper plane we realize the wonder of other things, +the difference is almost shattering. The thoracic ganglion is a +ganglion of power. When the child in its delicate bliss seeks the +mother and finds her and is added on to her, then it fulfills itself +in the great upper sympathetic mode. But then it relinquishes her. It +ceases to be aware of her. And if she tries to force its love to play +upon her again, like light revealing her to herself, then the child +turns away. Or it will lie, and look at her with the strange, odd, +curious look of knowledge, like a little imp who is spying her out. +This is the curious look that many mothers cannot bear. Involuntarily +it arouses a sort of hate in them--the look of scrutinizing curiosity, +apart, and as it were studying, balancing them up. Yet it is a look +which comes into every child's eyes. It is the reaction of the great +voluntary plexus between the shoulders. The mother is suddenly set +apart, as an object of curiosity, coldly, sometimes dreamily, +sometimes puzzled, sometimes mockingly observed. + +Again, if a mother neglect her child, it cries, it weeps for her love +and attention. Its pitiful lament is one of the forms of compulsion +from the upper center. This insistence on pity, on love, is quite +different from the rageous weeping, which is compulsion from the lower +center, below the diaphragm. Again, some children just drop everything +they can lay hands on over the edge of their crib, or their table. +They drop everything out of sight. And then they look up with a +curious look of negative triumph. This is again a form of recoil from +the upper center, the obliteration of the thing which is outside. And +here a child is acting quite differently from the child who joyously +_smashes_. The desire to smash comes from the lower centers. + +We can quite well recognize the will exerted from the lower center. We +call it headstrong temper and masterfulness. But the peculiar will of +the upper center--the sort of nervous, critical objectivity, the +deliberate forcing of sympathy, the play upon pity and tenderness, the +plaintive bullying of love, or the benevolent bullying of love--these +we don't care to recognize. They are the extravagance of spiritual +_will_. But in its true harmony the thoracic ganglion is a center of +happier activity: of real, eager curiosity, of the delightful desire +to pick things to pieces, and the desire to put them together again, +the desire to "find out," and the desire to invent: all this arises on +the upper plane, at the volitional center of the thoracic ganglion. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +TREES AND BABIES AND PAPAS AND MAMAS + + +Oh, damn the miserable baby with its complicated ping-pong table of an +unconscious. I'm sure, dear reader, you'd rather have to listen to the +brat howling in its crib than to me expounding its plexuses. As for +"mixing those babies up," I'd mix him up like a shot if I'd anything +to mix him with. Unfortunately he's my own anatomical specimen of a +pickled rabbit, so there's nothing to be done with the bits. + +But he gets on my nerves. I come out solemnly with a pencil and an +exercise book, and take my seat in all gravity at the foot of a large +fir-tree, and wait for thoughts to come, gnawing like a squirrel on a +nut. But the nut's hollow. + +I think there are too many trees. They seem to crowd round and stare +at me, and I feel as if they nudged one another when I'm not looking. +I can _feel_ them standing there. And they won't let me get on about +the baby this morning. Just their cussedness. I felt they encouraged +me like a harem of wonderful silent wives, yesterday. + +It is half rainy too--the wood so damp and still and so secret, in the +remote morning air. Morning, with rain in the sky, and the forest +subtly brooding, and me feeling no bigger than a pea-bug between the +roots of my fir. The trees seem so much bigger than me, so much +stronger in life, prowling silent around. I seem to feel them moving +and thinking and prowling, and they overwhelm me. Ah, well, the only +thing is to give way to them. + +It is the edge of the Black Forest--sometimes the Rhine far off, on +its Rhine plain, like a bit of magnesium ribbon. But not to-day. +To-day only trees, and leaves, and vegetable presences. Huge straight +fir-trees, and big beech-trees sending rivers of roots into the +ground. And cuckoos, like noise falling in drops off the leaves. And +me, a fool, sitting by a grassy wood-road with a pencil and a book, +hoping to write more about that baby. + +Never mind. I listen again for noises, and I smell the damp moss. The +looming trees, so straight. And I listen for their silence. Big, +tall-bodied trees, with a certain magnificent cruelty about them. Or +barbarity. I don't know why I should say cruelty. Their magnificent, +strong, round bodies! It almost seems I can hear the slow, powerful +sap drumming in their trunks. Great full-blooded trees, with strange +tree-blood in them, soundlessly drumming. + +Trees that have no hands and faces, no eyes. Yet the powerful +sap-scented blood roaring up the great columns. A vast individual +life, and an overshadowing will. The will of a tree. Something that +frightens you. + +Suppose you want to look a tree in the face? You can't. It hasn't got +a face. You look at the strong body of a trunk: you look above you +into the matted body-hair of twigs and boughs: you see the soft green +tips. But there are no eyes to look into, you can't meet its gaze. You +keep on looking at it in part and parcel. + +It's no good looking at a tree, to know it. The only thing is to sit +among the roots and nestle against its strong trunk, and not bother. +That's how I write all about these planes and plexuses, between the +toes of a tree, forgetting myself against the great ankle of the +trunk. And then, as a rule, as a squirrel is stroked into its +wickedness by the faceless magic of a tree, so am I usually stroked +into forgetfulness, and into scribbling this book. My tree-book, +really. + +I come so well to understand tree-worship. All the old Aryans +worshiped the tree. My ancestors. The tree of life. The tree of +knowledge. Well, one is bound to sprout out some time or other, chip +of the old Aryan block. I can so well understand tree-worship. And +fear the deepest motive. + +Naturally. This marvelous vast individual without a face, without lips +or eyes or heart. This towering creature that never had a face. Here +am I between his toes like a pea-bug, and him noiselessly +over-reaching me. And I feel his great blood-jet surging. And he has +no eyes. But he turns two ways. He thrusts himself tremendously down +to the middle earth, where dead men sink in darkness, in the damp, +dense under-soil, and he turns himself about in high air. Whereas we +have eyes on one side of our head only, and only grow upwards. + +Plunging himself down into the black humus, with a root's gushing +zest, where we can only rot dead; and his tips in high air, where we +can only look up to. So vast and powerful and exultant in his two +directions. And all the time, he has no face, no thought: only a huge, +savage, thoughtless soul. Where does he even keep his soul?--Where +does anybody? + +A huge, plunging, tremendous soul. I would like to be a tree for a +while. The great lust of roots. Root-lust. And no mind at all. He +towers, and I sit and feel safe. I like to feel him towering round me. +I used to be afraid. I used to fear their lust, their rushing black +lust. But now I like it, I worship it. I always felt them huge +primeval enemies. But now they are my only shelter and strength. I +lose myself among the trees. I am so glad to be with them in their +silent, intent passion, and their great lust. They feed my soul. But I +can understand that Jesus was crucified on a tree. + +And I can so well understand the Romans, their terror of the bristling +Hercynian wood. Yet when you look from a height down upon the rolling +of the forest--this Black Forest--it is as suave as a rolling, oily +sea. Inside only, it bristles horrific. And it terrified the Romans. + +The Romans! They too seem very near. Nearer than Hindenburg or Foch or +even Napoleon. When I look across the Rhine plain, it is Rome, and the +legionaries of the Rhine that my soul notices. It must have been +wonderful to come from South Italy to the shores of this sea-like +forest: this dark, moist forest, with its enormously powerful +intensity of tree life. Now I know, coming myself from rock-dry +Sicily, open to the day. + +The Romans and the Greeks found everything human. Everything had a +face, and a human voice. Men spoke, and their fountains piped an +answer. + +But when the legions crossed the Rhine they found a vast impenetrable +life which had no voice. They met the faceless silence of the Black +Forest. This huge, huge wood did not answer when they called. Its +silence was too crude and massive. And the soldiers shrank: shrank +before the trees that had no faces, and no answer. A vast array of +non-human life, darkly self-sufficient, and bristling with indomitable +energy. The Hercynian wood, not to be fathomed. The enormous power of +these collective trees, stronger in their somber life even than Rome. + +No wonder the soldiers were terrified. No wonder they thrilled with +horror when, deep in the woods, they found the skulls and trophies of +their dead comrades upon the trees. The trees had devoured them: +silently, in mouthfuls, and left the white bones. Bones of the mindful +Romans--and savage, preconscious trees, indomitable. The true German +has something of the sap of trees in his veins even now: and a sort of +pristine savageness, like trees, helpless, but most powerful, under +all his mentality. He is a tree-soul, and his gods are not human. His +instinct still is to nail skulls and trophies to the sacred tree, deep +in the forest. The tree of life and death, tree of good and evil, tree +of abstraction and of immense, mindless life; tree of everything +except the spirit, spirituality. + +But after bone-dry Sicily, and after the gibbering of myriad people +all rattling their personalities, I am glad to be with the profound +indifference of faceless trees. Their rudimentariness cannot know why +we care for the things we care for. They have no faces, no minds and +bowels: only deep, lustful roots stretching in earth, and vast, +lissome life in air, and primeval individuality. You can sacrifice the +whole of your spirituality on their altar still. You can nail your +skull on their limbs. They have no skulls, no minds nor faces, they +can't make eyes of love at you. Their vast life dispenses with all +this. But they will live you down. + +The normal life of one of these big trees is about a hundred years. So +the Herr Baron told me. + +One of the few places that my soul will haunt, when I am dead, will be +this. Among the trees here near Ebersteinburg, where I have been +alone and written this book. I can't leave these trees. They have +taken some of my soul. + + * * * * * + +Excuse my digression, gentle reader. At first I left it out, thinking +we might not see wood for trees. But it doesn't much matter what we +see. It's nice just to look round, anywhere. + +So there are two planes of being and consciousness and two modes of +relation and of function. We will call the lower plane the sensual, +the upper the spiritual. The terms may be unwise, but we can think of +no other. + +Please read that again, dear reader; you'll be a bit dazzled, coming +out of the wood. + +It is obvious that from the time a child is born, or conceived, it has +a permanent relation with the outer universe, relation in the two +modes, not one mode only. There are two ways of love, two ways of +activity and independence. And there needs some sort of equilibrium +between the two modes. In the same way, in physical function there is +eating and drinking, and excrementation, on the lower plane and +respiration and heartbeat on the upper plane. + +Now the equilibrium to be established is fourfold. There must be a +true equilibrium between what we eat and what we reject again by +excretion: likewise between the systole and diastole of the heart, +the inspiration and expiration of our breathing. Suffice to say the +equilibrium is never quite perfect. Most people are either too fat or +too thin, too hot or too cold, too slow or too quick. There is no such +thing as an _actual_ norm, a living norm. A norm is merely an +abstraction, not a reality. + +The same on the psychical plane. We either love too much, or impose +our will too much, are too spiritual or too sensual. There is not and +cannot be any actual norm of human conduct. All depends, first, on the +unknown inward need within the very nuclear centers of the individual +himself, and secondly on his circumstance. Some men _must_ be too +spiritual, some _must_ be too sensual. Some _must_ be too sympathetic, +and some _must_ be too proud. We have no desire to say what men +_ought_ to be. We only wish to say there are all kinds of ways of +being, and there is no such thing as human perfection. No man can be +anything more than just himself, in genuine living relation to all his +surroundings. But that which _I_ am, when I am myself, will certainly +be anathema to those who hate individual integrity, and want to swarm. +And that which I, being myself, am in myself, may make the hair +bristle with rage on a man who is also himself, but very different +from me. Then let it bristle. And if mine bristle back again, then let +us, if we must, fly at one another like two enraged men. It is how it +should be. We've got to learn to live from the center of our own +responsibility only, and let other people do the same. + +To return to the child, however, and his development on his two planes +of consciousness. There is all the time a direct dynamic connection +between child and mother, child and father also, from the start. It is +a connection on two planes, the upper and lower. From the lower +sympathetic center the profound intake of love or vibration from the +living co-respondent outside. From the upper sympathetic center the +outgoing of devotion and the passionate vibration of _given_ love, +given attention. The two sympathetic centers are always, or should +always be, counterbalanced by their corresponding voluntary centers. +From the great voluntary ganglion of the lower plane, the child is +self-willed, independent, and masterful. + +In the activity of this center a boy refuses to be kissed and pawed +about, maintaining his proud independence like a little wild animal. +From this center he likes to command and to receive obedience. From +this center likewise he may be destructive and defiant and reckless, +determined to have his own way at any cost. + +From this center, too, he learns to use his legs. The motion of +walking, like the motion of breathing, is twofold. First, a +sympathetic cleaving to the earth with the foot: then the voluntary +rejection, the spurning, the kicking away, the exultance in power and +freedom. + +From the upper voluntary center the child watches persistently, +wilfully, for the attention of the mother: to be taken notice of, to +be caressed, in short to exist in and through the mother's attention. +From this center, too, he coldly refuses to notice the mother, when +she insists on too much attention. This cold refusal is different from +the active rejection of the lower center. It is passive, but cold and +negative. It is the great force of our day. From the ganglion of the +shoulders, also, the child breathes and his heart beats. From the same +center he learns the first use of his arms. In the gesture of +sympathy, from the upper plane, he embraces his mother with his arms. +In the motion of curiosity, or interest, which derives from the +thoracic ganglion, he spreads his fingers, touches, feels, explores. +In the motion of rejection he drops an undesired object deliberately +out of sight. + +And then, when the four centers of what we call the first _field_ of +consciousness are fully active, then it is that the eyes begin to +gather their sight, the mouth to speak, the ears to awake to their +intelligent hearings; all as a result of the great fourfold activity +of the first dynamic field of consciousness. And then also, as a +result, the mind wakens to its impressions and to its incipient +control. For at first the control is non-mental, even non-cerebral. +The brain acts only as a sort of switchboard. + +The business of the father, in all this incipient child-development, +is to stand outside as a final authority and make the necessary +adjustments. Where there is too much sympathy, then the great +voluntary centers of the spine are weak, the child tends to be +delicate. Then the father by instinct supplies the roughness, the +sternness which stiffens in the child the centers of resistance and +independence, right from the very earliest days. Often, for a mere +infant, it is the father's fierce or stern presence, the vibration of +his voice, which starts the frictional and independent activity of the +great voluntary ganglion and gives the first impulse to the +independence which later on is life itself. + +But on the other hand, the father, from his distance, supports, +protects, nourishes his child, and it is ultimately on the remote but +powerful father-love that the infant rests, in a rest which is beyond +mother-love. For in the male the dominant centers are naturally the +volitional centers, centers of responsibility, authority, and care. + +It is the father's business, again, to maintain some sort of +equilibrium between the two modes of love in his infant. A mother may +wish to bring up her child from the lovely upper centers only, from +the centers of the breast, in the mode of what we call pure or +spiritual love. Then the child will be all gentle, all tender and +tender-radiant, always enfolded with gentleness and forbearance, +always shielded from grossness or pain or roughness. Now the father's +instinct is to be rough and crude, good-naturedly brutal with the +child, calling the deeper centers, the sensual centers, into play. +"What do you want? My watch? Well, you can't have it, do you see, +because it's mine." Not a lot of explanations of the "You see, +darling." No such nonsense.--Or if a child wails unnecessarily for its +mother, the father must be the check. "Stop your noise, you little +brat! What ails you, you whiner?" And if children be too sensitive, +too sympathetic, then it will do the child no harm if the father +occasionally throws the cat out of the window, or kicks the dog, or +raises a storm in the house. Storms there must be. And if the child is +old enough and robust enough, it can occasionally have its bottom +soundly spanked--by the father, if the mother refuses to perform that +most necessary duty. For a child's bottom is made occasionally to be +spanked. The vibration of the spanking acts direct upon the spinal +nerve-system, there is a direct reciprocity and reaction, the spanker +transfers his wrath to the great will-centers in the child, and these +will-centers react intensely, are vivified and educated. + +On the other hand, given a mother who is too generally hard or +indifferent, then it rests with the father to provide the delicate +sympathy and the refined discipline. Then the father must show the +tender sensitiveness of the upper mode. The sad thing to-day is that +so few mothers have any deep bowels of love--or even the breast of +love. What they have is the benevolent spiritual will, the will of the +upper self. But the will is not love. And benevolence in a parent is +a poison. It is bullying. In these circumstances the father must give +delicate adjustment, and, above all, some warm, native love from the +richer sensual self. + +The question of corporal punishment is important. It is no use roughly +smacking a shrinking, sensitive child. And yet, if a child is too +shrinking, too sensitive, it may do it a world of good cheerfully to +spank its posterior. Not brutally, not cruelly, but with real sound, +good-natured exasperation. And let the adult take the full +responsibility, half humorously, without apology or explanation. Let +us avoid self-justification at all costs. Real corporal punishments +apply to the sensual plane. The refined punishments of the spiritual +mode are usually much more indecent and dangerous than a good smack. +The pained but resigned disapprobation of a mother is usually a very +bad thing, much worse than the father's shouts of rage. And sendings +to bed, and no dessert for a week, and so on, are crueller and meaner +than a bang on the head. When a parent gives his boy a beating, there +is a living passionate interchange. But in these refined punishments, +the parent suffers nothing and the child is deadened. The bullying of +the refined, benevolent spiritual will is simply vitriol to the soul. +Yet parents administer it with all the righteousness of virtue and +good intention, sparing themselves perfectly. + +The point is here. If a child makes you so that you really want to +spank it soundly, then soundly spank the brat. But know all the time +_what_ you are doing, and always be responsible for your anger. Never +be ashamed of it, and never surpass it. The flashing interchange of +anger between parent and child is part of the responsible +relationship, necessary to growth. Again, if a child offends you +deeply, so that you really can't communicate with it any more, then, +while the hurt is deep, switch off your connection from the child, cut +off your correspondence, your vital communion, and be alone. But never +persist in such a state beyond the time when your deep hurt dies down. +The only rule is, do what you _really_, impulsively, wish to do. But +always act on your own responsibility sincerely. And have the courage +of your own strong emotion. They enrichen the child's soul. + +For a child's primary education depends almost entirely on its +relation to its parents, brothers, and sisters. Between mother and +child, father and child, the law is this: I, the mother, am myself +alone: the child is itself alone. But there exists between us a vital +dynamic relation, for which I, being the conscious one, am basically +responsible. So, as far as possible, there must be in me no departure +from myself, lest I injure the preconscious dynamic relation. I must +absolutely act according to my own true spontaneous feeling. But, +moreover, I must also have wisdom for myself and for my child. Always, +always the deep wisdom of responsibility. And always a brave +responsibility for the soul's own spontaneity. Love--what is love? +We'd better get a new idea. Love is, in all, generous impulse--even a +good spanking. But wisdom is something else, a deep collectedness in +the soul, a deep abiding by my own integral being, which makes me +responsible, not for the child, but for my certain duties towards the +child, and for maintaining the dynamic flow between the child and +myself as genuine as possible: that is to say, not perverted by ideals +or by my _will_. + +Most fatal, most hateful of all things is bullying. But what is +bullying? It is a desire to superimpose my own will upon another +person. Sensual bullying of course is fairly easily detected. What is +more dangerous is ideal bullying. Bullying people into what is ideally +good for them. I embrace for example an ideal, and I seek to enact +this ideal in the person of another. This is ideal bullying. A mother +says that life should be all love, all delicacy and forbearance and +gentleness. And she proceeds to spin a hateful sticky web of permanent +forbearance, gentleness, hushedness around her naturally passionate +and hasty child. This so foils the child as to make him half imbecile +or criminal. I may have ideals if I like--even of love and forbearance +and meekness. But I have no right to ask another to have these ideals. +And to impose _any ideals_ upon a child as it grows is almost +criminal. It results in impoverishment and distortion and subsequent +deficiency. In our day, most dangerous is the love and benevolence +ideal. It results in neurasthenia, which is largely a dislocation or +collapse of the great voluntary centers, a derangement of the will. It +is in us an insistence upon the one life-mode only, the spiritual +mode. It is a suppression of the great lower centers, and a living a +sort of half-life, almost entirely from the upper centers. Thence, +since we live terribly and exhaustively from the upper centers, there +is a tendency now towards pthisis and neurasthenia of the heart. The +great sympathetic center of the breast becomes exhausted, the lungs, +burnt by the over-insistence of one way of life, become diseased, the +heart, strained in one mode of dilation, retaliates. The powerful +lower centers are no longer fully active, particularly the great +lumbar ganglion, which is the clue to our sensual passionate pride and +independence, this ganglion is atrophied by suppression. And it is +this ganglion which holds the spine erect. So, weak-chested, +round-shouldered, we stoop hollowly forward on ourselves. It is the +result of the all-famous love and charity ideal, an ideal now quite +dead in its sympathetic activity, but still fixed and determined in +its voluntary action. + +Let us beware and beware, and beware of having a high ideal for +ourselves. But particularly let us beware of having an ideal for our +children. So doing, we damn them. All we can have is wisdom. And +wisdom is not a theory, it is a state of soul. It is the state wherein +we know our wholeness and the complicate, manifold nature of our +being. It is the state wherein we know the great relations which exist +between us and our near ones. And it is the state which accepts full +responsibility, first for our own souls, and then for the living +dynamic relations wherein we have our being. It is no use expecting +the other person to know. Each must know for himself. But nowadays +men have even a stunt of pretending that children and idiots alone +know best. This is a pretty piece of sophistry, and criminal +cowardice, trying to dodge the life-responsibility which no man or +woman can dodge without disaster. + +The only thing is to be direct. If a child has to swallow castor-oil, +then say: "Child, you've got to swallow this castor-oil. It is +necessary for your inside. I say so because it is true. So open your +mouth." Why try coaxing and logic and tricks with children? Children +are more sagacious than we are. They twig soon enough if there is a +flaw in our own intention and our own true spontaneity. And they play +up to our bit of falsity till there is hell to pay. + +"You love mother, don't you, dear?"--Just a piece of indecent trickery +of the spiritual will. The great emotions like love are unspoken. +Speaking them is a sign of an indecent bullying will. + +"Poor pussy! You must love poor pussy!" + +What cant! What sickening cant! An appeal to love based on false pity. +That's the way to inculcate a filthy pharisaic conceit into a +child.--If the child ill-treats the cat, say: + +"Stop mauling that cat. It's got its own life to live, so let it live +it." Then if the brat persists, give tit for tat. + +"What, you pull the cat's tail! Then I'll pull your nose, to see how +you like it." And give his nose a proper hard pinch. + +Children _must_ pull the cat's tail a little. Children _must_ steal +the sugar sometimes. They _must_ occasionally spoil just the things +one doesn't want them to spoil. And they _must_ occasionally tell +stories--tell a lie. Circumstances and life are such that we must all +sometimes tell a lie: just as we wear trousers, because we don't +choose that everybody shall see our nakedness. Morality is a delicate +act of adjustment on the soul's part, not a rule or a prescription. +Beyond a certain point the child _shall_ not pull the cat's tail, _or_ +steal the sugar, _or_ spoil the furniture, _or_ tell lies. But I'm +afraid you can't fix this certain soul's humor. And so it must. If at +a sudden point you fly into a temper and thoroughly beat the boy for +hardly touching the cat--well, that's life. All you've got to say to +him is: "There, that'll serve you for all the times you _have_ pulled +her tail and hurt her." And he will feel outraged, and so will you. +But what does it matter? Children have an infinite understanding of +the soul's passionate variabilities, and forgive even a real +injustice, if it was _spontaneous_ and not intentional. They know we +aren't perfect. What they don't forgive us is if we pretend we are: or +if we _bully_. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE FIVE SENSES + + +Science is wretched in its treatment of the human body as a sort of +complex mechanism made up of numerous little machines working +automatically in a rather unsatisfactory relation to one another. The +body is the total machine; the various organs are the included +machines; and the whole thing, given a start at birth, or at +conception, trundles on by itself. The only god in the machine, the +human will or intelligence, is absolutely at the mercy of the machine. + +Such is the orthodox view. Soul, when it is allowed an existence at +all, sits somewhat vaguely within the machine, never defined. If +anything goes wrong with the machine, why, the soul is forgotten +instantly. We summon the arch-mechanic of our day, the medicine-man. +And a marvelous earnest fraud he is, doing his best. He is really +wonderful as a mechanic of the human system. But the life within us +fails more and more, while we marvelously tinker at the engines. +Doctors are not to blame. + +It is obvious that, even considering the human body as a very delicate +and complex machine, you cannot keep such a machine running for one +day without most exact central control. Still more is it impossible to +consider the automatic evolution of such a machine. When did any +machine, even a single spinning-wheel, automatically evolve itself? +There was a god in the machine before the machine existed. + +So there we are with the human body. There must have been, and must be +a central god in the machine of each animate corpus. The little soul +of the beetle makes the beetle toddle. The little soul of the _homo +sapiens_ sets him on his two feet. Don't ask me to define the soul. +You might as well ask a bicycle to define the young damsel who so +whimsically and so god-like pedals her way along the highroad. A young +lady skeltering off on her bicycle to meet her young man--why, what +could the bicycle make of such a mystery, if you explained it till +doomsday. Yet the bicycle wouldn't be spinning from Streatham to +Croydon by itself. + +So we may as well settle down to the little god in the machine. We may +as well call it the individual soul, and leave it there. It's as far +as the bicycle would ever get, if it had to define Mademoiselle. But +be sure the bicycle would not deny the existence of the young miss who +seats herself in the saddle. Not like us, who try to pretend there is +no one in the saddle. Why even the sun would no more spin without a +rider than would a cycle-pedal. But, since we have innumerable planets +to reckon with, in the spinning we must not begin to define the rider +in terms of our own exclusive planet. Nevertheless, rider there is: +even a rider of the many-wheeled universe. + +But let us leave the universe alone. It is too big a bauble for +me.--_Revenons._--At the start of me there is me. There is a +mysterious little entity which is my individual self, the god who +builds the machine and then makes his gay excursion of seventy years +within it. Now we are talking at the moment about the machine. For the +moment we are the bicycle, and not the feather-brained cyclist. So +that all we can do is to define the cyclist in terms of ourself. A +bicycle could say: Here, upon my leather saddle, rests a strange and +animated force, which I call the force of gravity, as being the one +great force which controls my universe. And yet, on second thoughts, I +must modify myself. This great force of gravity is not _always_ in +the saddle. Sometimes it just is not there--and I lean strangely +against a wall. I have been even known to turn upside down, with my +wheels in the air; spun by the same mysterious Miss. So that I must +introduce a theory of Relativity. However, mostly, when I am awake and +alive, she is in the saddle; or _it_ is in the saddle, the mysterious +force. And when it is in the saddle, then two subsidiary forces plunge +and claw upon my two pedals, plunge and claw with inestimable power. +And at the same time, a kind and mysterious force sways my head-stock, +sways most incalculably, and governs my whole motion. This force is +not a driving force, but a subtle directing force, beneath whose grip +my bright steel body is flexible as a dipping highroad. Then let me +not forget the sudden clutch of arrest upon my hurrying wheels. Oh, +this is pain to me! While I am rushing forward, surpassing myself in +an _élan vital_, suddenly the awful check grips my back wheel, or my +front wheel, or both. Suddenly there is a fearful arrest. My soul +rushes on before my body, I feel myself strained, torn back. My fibers +groan. Then perhaps the tension relaxes. + +So the bicycle will continue to babble about itself. And it will +inevitably wind up with a philosophy. "Oh, if only the great and +divine force rested for ever upon my saddle, and if only the +mysterious will which sways my steering gear remained in place for +ever: then my pedals would revolve of themselves, and never cease, and +no hideous brake should tear the perpetuity of my motions. Then, oh +then I should be immortal. I should leap through the world for ever, +and spin to infinity, till I was identified with the dizzy and +timeless cycle-race of the stars and the great sun...." + +Poor old bicycle. The very thought is enough to start a philanthropic +society for the prevention of cruelty to bicycles. + +Well, then, our human body is the bicycle. And our individual and +incomprehensible self is the rider thereof. And seeing that the +universe is another bicycle riding full tilt, we are bound to suppose +a rider for that also. But we needn't say what sort of rider. When I +see a cockroach scuttling across the floor and turning up its tail I +stand affronted, and think: A rum sort of rider _you_ must have. +You've no business to have such a rider, do you hear?--And when I hear +the monotonous and plaintive cuckoo in the June woods, I think: Who +the devil made _that_ clock?--And when I see a politician making a +fiery speech on a platform, and the crowd gawping, I think: Lord, save +me--they've all got riders. But Holy Moses! you could never guess what +was coming.--And so I shouldn't like, myself, to start guessing about +the rider of the universe. I am all too flummoxed by the masquerade in +the tourney round about me. + +We ourselves then: wisdom, like charity, begins at home. We've each of +us got a rider in the saddle: an individual soul. Mostly it can't +ride, and can't steer, so mankind is like squadrons of bicycles +running amok. We should every one fall off if we didn't ride so thick +that we hold each other up. Horrid nightmare! + +As for myself, I have a horror of riding _en bloc_. So I grind away +uphill, and sweat my guts out, as they say. + +Well, well--my body is my bicycle: the whole middle of me is the +saddle where sits the rider of my soul. And my front wheel is the +cardiac plane, and my back wheel is the solar plexus. And the brakes +are the voluntary ganglia. And the steering gear is my head. And the +right and left pedals are the right and left dynamics of the body, in +some way corresponding to the sympathetic and voluntary division. + +So that now I know more or less how my rider rides me, and from what +centers controls me. That is, I know the points of vital contact +between my rider and my machine: between my invisible and my visible +self. I don't attempt to say what is my rider. A bicycle might as well +try to define its young Miss by wriggling its handle-bars and ringing +its bell. + +However, having more or less determined the four primary motions, we +can see the further unfolding. In a child, the solar plexus and the +cardiac plexus, with corresponding voluntary ganglia, are awake and +active. From these centers develop the great functions of the body. + +As we have seen, it is the solar plexus, with the lumbar ganglion, +which controls the great dynamic system, the functioning of the liver +and the kidneys. Any excess in the sympathetic dynamism tends to +accelerate the action of the liver, to cause fever and constipation. +Any collapse of the sympathetic dynamism causes anæmia. The sudden +stimulating of the voluntary center may cause diarrhoea, and so on. +But all this depends so completely on the polarized flow between the +individual and the correspondent, between the child and mother, child +and father, child and sisters or brothers or teacher, or +circumambient universe, that it is impossible to lay down laws, +unless we state particulars. Nevertheless, the whole of the great +organs of the lower body are controlled from the two lower centers, +and these organs work well or ill according as there is a true dynamic +_psychic_ activity at the two primary centers of consciousness. By a +_true_ dynamic psychic activity we mean an activity which is true to +the individual himself, to his own peculiar soul-nature. And a dynamic +psychic activity means a dynamic polarity between the individual +himself and other individuals concerned in his living; or between him +and his immediate surroundings, human, physical, geographical. + +On the upper plane, the lungs and heart are controlled from the +cardiac plane and the thoracic ganglion. Any excess in the sympathetic +mode from the upper centers tends to burn the lungs with oxygen, +weaken them with stress, and cause consumption. So it is just criminal +to make a child too loving. No child should be induced to love too +much. It means derangement and death at last. + +But beyond the primary physiological function--and it is the business +of doctors to discover the relation between the functioning of the +primary organs and the dynamic psychic activity at the four primary +consciousness-centers,--beyond these physical functions, there are the +activities which are half-psychic, half-functional. Such as the five +senses. + +Of the five senses, four have their functioning in the face-region. +The fifth, the sense of touch, is distributed all over the body. But +all have their roots in the four great primary centers of +consciousness. From the constellation of your nerve-nodes, from the +great field of your poles, the nerves run out in every direction, +ending on the surface of the body. Inwardly this is an inextricable +ramification and communication. + +And yet the body is planned out in areas, there is a definite +area-control from the four centers. On the back the sense of touch is +not acute. There the voluntary centers act in resistance. But in the +front of the body, the breast is one great field of sympathetic touch, +the belly is another. On these two fields the stimulus of touch is +quite different, has a quite different psychic quality and psychic +result. The breast-touch is the fine alertness of quivering curiosity, +the belly-touch is a deep thrill of delight and avidity. +Correspondingly, the hands and arms are instruments of superb +delicate curiosity, and deliberate execution. Through the elbows and +the wrists flows the dynamic psychic current, and a dislocation in the +current between two individuals will cause a feeling of dislocation at +the wrists and elbows. On the lower plane, the legs and feet are +instruments of unfathomable gratifications and repudiations. The +thighs, the knees, the feet are intensely alive with love-desire, +darkly and superbly drinking in the love-contact, blindly. Or they are +the great centers of resistance, kicking, repudiating. Sudden flushing +of great general sympathetic desire will make a man feel weak at the +knees. Hatred will harden the tension of the knees like steel, and +grip the feet like talons. Thus the fields of touch are four, two +sympathetic fields in front of the body from the throat to the feet, +two resistant fields behind from the neck to the heels. + +There are two fields of touch, however, where the distribution is not +so simple: the face and the buttocks. Neither in the face nor in the +buttocks is there one single mode of sense communication. + +The face is of course the great window of the self, the great opening +of the self upon the world, the great gateway. The lower body has its +own gates of exit. But the bulk of our communication with all the +outer universe goes on through the face. + +And every one of the windows or gates of the face has its direct +communication with each of the four great centers of the first field +of consciousness. Take the mouth, with the sense of taste. The mouth +is primarily the gate of the two chief sensual centers. It is the +gateway to the belly and the loins. Through the mouth we eat and we +drink. In the mouth we have the sense of taste. At the lips, too, we +kiss. And the kiss of the mouth is the first sensual connection. + +In the mouth also are the teeth. And the teeth are the instruments of +our sensual will. The growth of the teeth is controlled entirely from +the two great sensual centers below the diaphragm. But almost entirely +from the one center, the voluntary center. The growth and the life of +the teeth depend almost entirely on the lumbar ganglion. During the +growth of the teeth the sympathetic mode is held in abeyance. There is +a sort of arrest. There is pain, there is diarrhoea, there is misery +for the baby. + +And we, in our age, have no rest with our teeth. Our mouths are too +small. For many ages we have been suppressing the avid, negroid, +sensual will. We have been converting ourselves into ideal creatures, +all spiritually conscious, and active dynamically only on one plane, +the upper, spiritual plane. Our mouth has contracted, our teeth have +become soft and un-quickened. Where in us are the sharp and vivid +teeth of the wolf, keen to defend and devour? If we had them more, we +should be happier. Where are the white negroid teeth? Where? In our +little pinched mouths they have no room. We are sympathy-rotten, and +spirit-rotten, and idea-rotten. We have forfeited our flashing sensual +power. And we have false teeth in our mouths. In the same way the lips +of our sensual desire go thinner and more meaningless, in the +compression of our upper will and our idea-driven impulse. Let us +break the conscious, self-conscious love-ideal, and we shall grow +strong, resistant teeth once more, and the teething of our young will +not be the hell it is. + +Teething is strictly the period when the voluntary center of the lower +plane first comes into full activity, and takes for a time the +precedence. + +So, the mouth is the great sensual gate to the lower body. But let us +not forget it is also a gate by which we breathe, the gate through +which we speak and go impalpably forth to our object, the gate at +which we can kiss the pinched, delicate, spiritual kiss. Therefore, +although the main sensual gate of entrance to the lower body, it has +its reference also to the upper body. + +Taste, the sense of taste, is an intake of a pure communication +between us and a body from the outside world. It contains the element +of touch, and in this it refers to the cardiac plexus. But taste, +_quâ_ taste, refers purely to the solar plexus. + +And then smell. The nostrils are the great gate from the wide +atmosphere of heaven to the lungs. The extreme sigh of yearning we +catch through the mouth. But the delicate nose advances always into +the air, our palpable communicator with the infinite air. Thus it has +its first delicate root in the cardiac plexus, the root of its intake. +And the root of the delicate-proud exhalation, rejection, is in the +thoracic ganglion. But the nostrils have their other function of +smell. Here the delicate nerve-ends run direct from the lower centers, +from the solar plexus and the lumbar ganglion, or even deeper. There +is the refined sensual intake when a scent is sweet. There is the +sensual repudiation when a scent is unsavoury. And just as the +fullness of the lips and the shape of the mouth depend on the +development from the lower or the upper centers, the sensual or the +spiritual, so does the shape of the nose depend on the direct control +of the deepest centers of consciousness. A perfect nose is perhaps the +result of a balance in the four modes. But what is a perfect nose!--We +only know that a short snub nose goes with an over-sympathetic nature, +not proud enough; while a long nose derives from the center of the +upper will, the thoracic ganglion, our great center of curiosity, and +benevolent or objective control. A thick, squat nose is the +sensual-sympathetic nose, and the high, arched nose the sensual +voluntary nose, having the curve of repudiation, as when we turn up +our nose from a bad smell, but also the proud curve of haughtiness and +subjective authority. The nose is one of the greatest indicators of +character. That is to say, it almost inevitably indicates the mode of +predominant dynamic consciousness in the individual, the predominant +primary center from which he lives.--When savages rub noses instead of +kissing, they are exchanging a more sensitive and a deeper sensual +salute than our lip-touch. + +The eyes are the third great gateway of the psyche. Here the soul goes +in and out of the body, as a bird flying forth and coming home. But +the root of conscious vision is almost entirely in the breast. When I +go forth from my own eyes, in delight to dwell upon the world which is +beyond me, outside me, then I go forth from wide open windows, through +which shows the full and living lambent darkness of my present inward +self. I go forth, and I leave the lovely open darkness of my sensient +self revealed; when I go forth in the wonder of vision to dwell upon +the beloved, or upon the wonder of the world, I go from the center of +the glad breast, through the eyes, and who will may look into the full +soft darkness of me, rich with my undiscovered presence. But if I am +displeased, then hard and cold my self stands in my eyes, and refuses +any communication, any sympathy, but merely stares outwards. It is the +motion of cold objectivity from the thoracic ganglion. Or, from the +same center of will, cold but intense my eyes may watch with +curiosity, as a cat watches a fly. It may be into my curiosity will +creep an element of warm gladness in the wonder which I am beholding +outside myself. Or it may be that my curiosity will be purely and +simply the cold, almost cruel curiosity of the upper will, directed +from the ganglion of the shoulders: such as is the acute attention of +an experimental scientist. + +The eyes have, however, their sensual root as well. But this is hard +to transfer into language, as all _our_ vision, our modern Northern +vision is in the upper mode of actual seeing. + +There is a sensual way of beholding. There is the dark, desirous look +of a savage who apprehends only that which has direct reference to +himself, that which stirs a certain dark yearning within his lower +self. Then his eye is fathomless blackness. But there is the dark eye +which glances with a certain fire, and has no depth. There is a keen +quick vision which watches, which beholds, but which never yields to +the object outside: as a cat watching its prey. The dark glancing look +which knows the _strangeness_, the danger of its object, the need to +overcome the object. The eye which is not wide open to study, to +_learn_, but which powerfully, proudly or cautiously glances, and +knows the terror or the pure desirability of _strangeness_ in the +object it beholds. The savage is all in all in himself. That which he +sees outside he hardly notices, or, he sees as something odd, +something automatically desirable, something lustfully desirable, or +something dangerous. What we call vision, that he has not. + +We must compare the look in a horse's eye with the look in a cow's. +The eye of the cow is soft, velvety, receptive. She stands and gazes +with the strangest intent curiosity. She goes forth from herself in +wonder. The root of her vision is in her yearning breast. The same one +hears when she moos. The same massive weight of passion is in a bull's +breast; the passion to go forth from himself. His strength is in his +breast, his weapons are on his head. The wonder is always outside him. + +But the horse's eye is bright and glancing. His curiosity is cautious, +full of terror, or else aggressive and frightening for the object. The +root of his vision is in his belly, in the solar plexus. And he fights +with his teeth, and his heels, the sensual weapons. + +Both these animals, however, are established in the sympathetic mode. +The life mode in both is sensitively sympathetic, or preponderantly +sympathetic. Those animals which like cats, wolves, tigers, hawks, +chiefly live from the great voluntary centers, these animals are, in +our sense of the word, almost visionless. Sight in them is sharpened +or narrowed down to a point: the object of prey. It is exclusive. +They see no more than this. And thus they see unthinkably far, +unthinkably keenly. + +Most animals, however, smell what they see: vision is not very highly +developed. They know better by the more direct contact of scent. + +And vision in us becomes faulty because we proceed too much in one +mode. We see too much, we attend too much. The dark, glancing +sightlessness of the intent savage, the narrowed vision of the cat, +the single point of vision of the hawk--these we do not know any more. +We live far too much from the sympathetic centers, without the balance +from the voluntary mode. And we live far, far too much from the +_upper_ sympathetic center and voluntary center, in an endless +objective curiosity. Sight is the least sensual of all the senses. And +we strain ourselves to see, see, see--everything, everything through +the eye, in one mode of objective curiosity. There is nothing inside +us, we stare endlessly at the outside. So our eyes begin to fail; to +retaliate on us. We go short-sighted, almost in self-protection. + +Hearing the last, and perhaps the deepest of the senses. And here +there is no choice. In every other faculty we have the power of +rejection. We have a choice of vision. We can, if we choose, see in +the terms of the wonderful beyond, the world of light into which we go +forth in joy to lose ourselves in it. Or we can see, as the Egyptians +saw, in the terms of their own dark souls: seeing the strangeness of +the creature outside, the gulf between it and them, but finally, its +existence in terms of themselves. They saw according to their own +unchangeable idea, subjectively, they did not go forth from themselves +to seek the wonder outside. + +Those are the two chief ways of sympathetic vision. We call our way +the objective, the Egyptian the subjective. But objective and +subjective are words that depend absolutely on your starting point. +Spiritual and sensual are much more descriptive terms. + +But there are, of course, also the two ways of volitional vision. We +can see with the endless modern critical sight, analytic, and at last +deliberately ugly. Or we can see as the hawk sees the one concentrated +spot where beats the life-heart of our prey. + +In the four modes of sight we have some choice. We have some choice to +refuse tastes or smells or touch. In hearing we have the minimum of +choice. Sound acts direct upon the great affective centers. We may +voluntarily quicken our hearing, or make it dull. But we have really +no choice of what we hear. Our will is eliminated. Sound acts direct, +almost automatically, upon the affective centers. And we have no power +of going forth from the ear. We are always and only recipient. + +Nevertheless, sound acts upon us in various ways, according to the +four primary poles of consciousness. The singing of birds acts almost +entirely upon the centers of the breast. Birds, which live by flight, +impelled from the strong conscious-activity of the breast and +shoulders, have become for us symbols of the spirit, the upper mode of +consciousness. Their legs have become idle, almost insentient twigs. +Only the tail flirts from the center of the sensual will. + +But their singing acts direct upon the upper, or spiritual centers in +us. So does almost all our music, which is all Christian in tendency. +But modern music is analytical, critical, and it has discovered the +power of ugliness. Like our martial music, it is of the upper plane, +like our martial songs, our fifes and our brass-bands. These act +direct upon the thoracic ganglion. Time was, however, when music acted +upon the sensual centers direct. We hear it still in savage music, +and in the roll of drums, and in the roaring of lions, and in the +howling of cats. And in some voices still we hear the deeper resonance +of the sensual mode of consciousness. But the tendency is for +everything to be brought on to the upper plane, whilst the lower plane +is just worked automatically from the upper. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +FIRST GLIMMERINGS OF MIND + + +We can now see what is the true goal of education for a child. It is +the full and harmonious development of the four primary modes of +consciousness, always with regard to the individual nature of the +child. + +The goal is _not_ ideal. The aim is _not_ mental consciousness. We +want _effectual_ human beings, not conscious ones. The final aim is +not _to know_, but _to be_. There never was a more risky motto than +that: _Know thyself_. You've got to know yourself as far as possible. +But not just for the sake of knowing. You've got to know yourself so +that you can at last _be_ yourself. "Be yourself" is the last motto. + +The whole field of dynamic and effectual consciousness is _always_ +pre-mental, non-mental. Not even the most knowing man that ever lived +would know how he would be feeling next week; whether some new and +utterly shattering impulse would have arisen in him and laid his +nicely-conceived self in ruins. It is the impulse we have to live by, +not the ideals or the idea. But we have to know ourselves pretty +thoroughly before we can break the automatism of ideals and +conventions. The savage in a state of nature is one of the most +conventional of creatures. So is a child. Only through fine delicate +knowledge can we recognize and release our impulses. Now our whole aim +has been to force each individual to a maximum of mental control, and +mental consciousness. Our poor little plans of children are put into +horrible forcing-beds, called schools, and the young idea is there +forced to shoot. It shoots, poor thing, like a potato in a warm +cellar. One mass of pallid sickly ideas and ideals. And no root, no +life. The ideas shoot, hard enough, in our sad offspring, but they +shoot at the expense of life itself. Never was such a mistake. Mental +consciousness is a purely individual affair. Some men are born to be +highly and delicately conscious. But for the vast majority, much +mental consciousness is simply a catastrophe, a blight. It just stops +their living. + +Our business, at the present, is to prevent at all cost the young idea +from shooting. The ideal mind, the brain, has become the vampire of +modern life, sucking up the blood and the life. There is hardly an +original thought or original utterance possible to us. All is sickly +repetition of stale, stale ideas. + +Let all schools be closed at once. Keep only a few technical training +establishments, nothing more. Let humanity lie fallow, for two +generations at least. Let no child learn to read, unless it learns by +itself, out of its own individual persistent desire. + +That is my serious admonition, gentle reader. But I am not so flighty +as to imagine you will pay any heed. But if I thought you would, I +should feel my hope surge up. And if you _don't_ pay any heed, +calamity will at length shut your schools for you, sure enough. + +The process of transfer from the primary consciousness to recognized +mental consciousness is a mystery like every other transfer. Yet it +follows its own laws. And here we begin to approach the confines of +orthodox psychology, upon which we have no desire to trespass. But +this we _can_ say. The degree of transfer from primary to mental +consciousness varies with every individual. But in most individuals +the natural degree is very low. + +The process of transfer from primary consciousness is called +sublimation, the sublimating of the potential body of knowledge with +the definite reality of the idea. And with this process we have +identified all education. The very derivation of the Latin word +_education_ shows us. Of course it should mean the leading forth of +each nature to its fullness. But with us, fools that we are, it is the +leading forth of the primary consciousness, the potential or dynamic +consciousness, into mental consciousness, which is finite and static. +Now before we set out so gayly to lead our children _en bloc_ out of +the dynamic into the static way of consciousness, let us consider a +moment what we are doing. + +A child in the womb can have no _idea_ of the mother. I think orthodox +psychology will allow us so much. And yet the child in the womb must +be dynamically conscious of the mother. Otherwise how could it +maintain a definite and progressively developing relation to her? + +This consciousness, however, is utterly non-ideal, non-mental, purely +dynamic, a matter of dynamic polarized intercourse of vital +vibrations, as an exchange of wireless messages which are never +translated from the pulse-rhythm into speech, because they have no +need to be. It is a dynamic polarized intercourse between the great +primary nuclei in the foetus and the corresponding nuclei in the +dynamic maternal psyche. + +This form of consciousness is established at conception, and continues +long after birth. Nay, it continues all life long. But the particular +interchange of dynamic consciousness between mother and child suffers +no interruption at birth. It continues almost the same. The child has +no conception whatsoever of the mother. It cannot see her, for its eye +has no focus. It can hear her, because hearing needs no transmission +into concept, but it has no oral notion of sounds. It knows her. But +only by a form of vital dynamic correspondence, a sort of magnetic +interchange. The idea does not intervene at all. + +Gradually, however, the dark shadow of our object begins to loom in +the formless mind of the infant. The idea of the mother is, as it +were, gradually photographed on the cerebral plasm. It begins with the +faintest shadow--but the figure is gradually developed through years +of experience. It is never quite completed. + +How does the figure of the mother gradually develop as a _conception_ +in the child mind? It develops as the result of the positive and +negative reaction from the primary centers of consciousness. From the +first great center of sympathy the child is drawn to a lovely oneing +with the mother. From the first great center of will comes the +independent self-assertion which locates the mother as something +outside, something objective. And as a result of this twofold notion, +a twofold increase in the child. First, the dynamic establishment of +the individual consciousness in the infant: and then the first shadow +of a mental conception of the mother, in the infant brain. The +development of the _original_ mind in every child and every man always +and only follows from the dual fulfillment in the dynamic +consciousness. + +But mark further. Each time, after the fourfold interchange between +two dynamic polarized lives, there results a development in the +individuality and a sublimation into consciousness, both +simultaneously in each party: _and this dual development causes at +once a diminution in the dynamic polarity between the two parties_. +That is, as its individuality and its mental concept of the mother +develop in the child, there is a corresponding _waning_ of the dynamic +relation between the child and the mother. And this is the natural +progression of all love. As we have said before, the accomplishment of +individuality never finally exhausts the dynamic flow between parents +and child. In the same way, a child can never have a finite conception +of either of its parents. It can have a very much more finite, +finished conception of its aunts or its friends. The portrait of the +parent can never be quite completed in the mind of the son or +daughter. As long as time lasts it must be left unfinished. + +Nevertheless, the inevitable photography of time upon the mental plasm +does print at last a very substantial portrait of the parent, a very +well-filled concept in the child mind. And the nearer a conception +comes towards finality, the nearer does the dynamic relation, out of +which this concept has arisen, draw to a close. To know, is to lose. +When I have a finished mental concept of a beloved, or a friend, then +the love and the friendship is dead. It falls to the level of an +acquaintance. As soon as I have a finished mental conception, a full +idea even of myself, then dynamically I am dead. To know is to die. + +But knowledge and death are part of our natural development. Only, of +course, most things can never be known by us in full. Which means we +do never absolutely die, even to our parents. So that Jesus' question +to His mother, "Woman, what have I to do with thee!"--while +expressing a major truth, still has an exaggerated sound, which comes +from its denial of the minor truth. + +This progression from dynamic relationship towards a finished +individuality and a finished mental concept is carried on from the +four great primary centers through the correspondence medium of all +the senses and sensibilities. First of all, the child knows the mother +only through touch--perfect and immediate contact. And yet, from the +moment of conception, the egg-cell repudiated complete adhesion and +even communication, and asserted its individual integrity. The child +in the womb, perfect a contact though it may have with the mother, is +all the time also dynamically polarized against this contact. From the +first moment, this relation in touch has a dual polarity, and, no +doubt, a dual mode. It is a fourfold interchange of consciousness, the +moment the egg-cell has made its two spontaneous divisions. + +As soon as the child is born, there is a real severance. The contact +of touch is interrupted, it now becomes occasional only. True, the +dynamic flow between mother and child is not severed when simple +physical contact is missing. Though mother and child may not touch, +still the dynamic flow continues between them. The mother knows her +child, feels her bowels and her breast drawn to it, even if it be a +hundred miles away. But if the severance continue long, the dynamic +flow begins to die, both in mother and child. It wanes fairly +quickly--and perhaps can never be fully revived. The dynamic relation +between parent and child may fairly easily fall into quiescence, a +static condition. + +For a full dynamic relationship it is necessary that there be actual +contact. The nerves run from the four primary dynamos, and end with +live ends all over the body. And it is necessary to bring the live +ends of the nerves of the child into contact with the live ends of +corresponding nerves in the mother, so that a pure circuit is +established. Wherever a pure circuit is established, there occurs a +pure development in the individual creation, and this is inevitably +accompanied by sensation; and sensation is the first term of mental +knowledge. + +So, from the field of the breast and arms, the upper circuit, and from +the field of the knees and feet and belly, the lower circuit. + +And then, the moment a child is born, the face is alive. And the face +communicates direct with both planes of primary consciousness. The +moment a child is born, it begins to grope for the breast. And +suddenly a new great circuit is established, the four poles all +working at once, as the child sucks. There is the profound +desirousness of the lower center of sympathy, and the superior avidity +of the center of will, and at the same time, the cleaving yearning to +the nipple, and the tiny curiosity of lips and gums. The nipple of the +mother's breast is one of the great gates of the body, hence of the +living psyche. In the nipple terminate vivid nerves which flash their +very powerful vibrations through the mouth of the child and deep into +its four great poles of being and knowing. Even the nipples of the man +are gateways to the great dynamic flow: still gateways. + +Touch, taste, and smell are now active in the baby. And these senses, +so-called, are strictly sensations. They are the first term of the +child's mental knowledge. And on these three _cerebral_ reactions the +foundation of the future mind is laid. + +The moment there is a perfect polarized circuit between the first four +poles of dynamic consciousness, at that moment does the mind, the +terminal station, flash into cognition. The first cognition is merely +sensation: sensation and the remembrance of sensation being the first +element in all knowing and in all conception. + +The circuit of touch, taste, and smell must be well established, +before the eyes begin actually to see. All mental knowledge is built +up of sensation and of memory. It is the continually recurring +sensation of the touch of the mother which forms the basis of the +first conception of the mother. After that, the gradually +discriminated taste of the mother, and scent of the mother. Till +gradually sight and hearing develop and largely usurp the first three +senses, as medium of correspondence and of knowledge. + +And while, of course, the sensational _knowledge_ is being secreted in +the brain, in some much more mysterious way the living individuality +of the child is being developed in the four first nuclei, the four +great nerve-centers of the primary field of consciousness and being. + +As time goes on, the child learns to see the mother. At first he sees +her face as a blur, and though he knows her, knows her by a direct +glow of communication, as if her face were a warm glowing life-lamp +which rejoiced him. But gradually, as the circuit of touch, taste, and +smell become powerfully established; gradually, as the individual +develops in the child, and so retreats towards isolation; gradually, +as the child stands more immune from the mother, the circuit of +correspondence extends, and the eyes now communicate across space, the +ears begin to discriminate sounds. Last of all develops discriminate +hearing. + +Now gradually the picture of the mother is transferred to the child's +mind, and the sound of the first baby-words is imprinted. And as the +child learns to discriminate visually, objectively, between the mother +and the nurse, he learns to choose, and becomes individually free. And +still, the dynamic correspondence is not finished. It only changes its +circuit. + +While the brain is registering sensations, the four dynamic centers +are coming into perfect relation. Or rather, as we see, the reverse is +the case. As the dynamic centers come into perfect relation, the mind +registers and remembers sensations, and begins consciously to know. +But the great field of activity is still and always the dynamic field. +When a child learns to walk, it learns almost entirely from the solar +plexus and the lumbar ganglion, the cardiac plexus and the thoracic +ganglion balancing the upper body. + +There is a perfected circuit of polarity. The two lower centers are +the positive, the two upper the negative poles. And so the child +strikes out with his feet for the earth, presses, and strikes away +again from the earth, the two upper centers meanwhile corresponding +implicitly in the balance of the upper body. It is a chain of +spontaneous activity in the four primary centers, establishing a +circuit through the whole body. But the positive poles are the lower +centers. And the brain has probably nothing at all to do with it. Even +the _desire_ to walk is not born in the brain, but in the primary +nuclei. + +The same with the use of the hands and arms. It means the +establishment of a pure circuit between the four centers, the two +upper poles now being the positive, the lower the negative poles, and +the hands the live end of the wire. Again the brain is not concerned. +Probably, even in the first deliberate grasping of an object, the +brain is not concerned. Not until there is an element of recognition +and sensation-memory. + +All our primal activity originates and circulates purely in the four +great nerve centers. All our active desire, our genuine impulse, our +love, our hope, our yearning, everything originates mysteriously at +these four great centers or well-heads of our existence: everything +vital and dynamic. The mind can only register that which results from +the emanation of the dynamic impulse and the collision or communion of +this impulse with its object. + +So now we see that we can never know ourselves. Knowledge is to +consciousness what the signpost is to the traveler: just an indication +of the way which has been traveled before. Knowledge is not even in +direct proportion to being. There may be great knowledge of chemistry +in a man who is a rather poor _being_: and those who _know_, even in +wisdom like Solomon, are often at the end of the matter of living, not +at the beginning. As a matter of fact, David did the living, the +dynamic achievement. To Solomon was left the consummation and the +finish, and the dying down. + +Yet we _must_ know, if only in order to learn not to know. The supreme +lesson of human consciousness is to learn how _not to know_. That is, +how not to _interfere_. That is, how to live dynamically, from the +great Source, and not statically, like machines driven by ideas and +principles from the head, or automatically, from one fixed desire. At +last, knowledge must be put into its true place in the living +activity of man. And we must know deeply, in order even to do that. + +So a new conception of the meaning of education. + +Education means leading out the individual nature in each man and +woman to its true fullness. You can't do that by stimulating the mind. +To pump education into the mind is fatal. That which sublimates from +the dynamic consciousness into the mental consciousness has alone any +value. This, in most individuals, is very little indeed. So that most +individuals, under a wise government, would be most carefully +protected from all vicious attempts to inject extraneous ideas into +them. Every extraneous idea, which has no inherent root in the dynamic +consciousness, is as dangerous as a nail driven into a young tree. For +the mass of people, knowledge _must_ be symbolical, mythical, dynamic. +This means, you must have a higher, responsible, conscious class: and +then in varying degrees the lower classes, varying in their degree of +consciousness. Symbols must be true from top to bottom. But the +interpretation of the symbols must rest, degree after degree, in the +higher, responsible, conscious classes. To _those who cannot divest_ +themselves again of mental consciousness and definite ideas, mentality +and ideas are death, nails through their hands and feet. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +FIRST STEPS IN EDUCATION + + +The first process of education is obviously not a mental process. When +a mother talks to a baby, she is not encouraging its little mind to +think. When she is coaxing her child to walk, she is not making a +theoretic exposition of the science of equilibration. She crouches +before the child, at a little distance, and spreads her hands. "Come, +baby--come to mother. Come! Baby, walk! Yes, walk! Walk to mother! +Come along. A little walk to its mother. Come! Come then! Why yes, a +pretty baby! Oh, he can toddle! Yes--yes--No, don't be frightened, a +dear. No--Come to mother--" and she catches his little pinafore by the +tip--and the infant lurches forward. "There! There! A beautiful walk! +A beautiful walker, yes! Walked all the way to mother, baby did. Yes, +he did--" + +Now who will tell me that this talk has any rhyme or reason? Not a +spark of reason. Yet a real rhyme: or rhythm, much more important. +The song and the urge of the mother's voice plays direct on the +affective centers of the child, a wonderful stimulus and tuition. The +words hardly matter. True, this constant repetition in the end forms a +mental association. At the moment they have no mental significance at +all for the baby. But they ring with a strange palpitating music in +his fluttering soul, and lift him into motion. + +And this is the way to educate children: the instinctive way of +mothers. There should be no effort made to teach children to think, to +have ideas. Only to lift them and urge them into dynamic activity. The +voice of dynamic sound, not the words of understanding. Damn +understanding. Gestures, and touch, and expression of the face, not +theory. Never have ideas about children--and never have ideas _for_ +them. + +If we are going to teach children we must teach them first to move. +And not by rule or mental dictation. Horror! But by playing and +teasing and anger, and amusement. A child must learn to move blithe +and free and proud. It must learn the fullness of spontaneous motion. +And this it can only learn by continuous reaction from all the +centers, through all the emotions. A child must learn to contain +itself. It must learn to sit still if need be. Part of the first phase +of education is the learning to stay still and be physically +self-contained. Then a child must learn to be alone, and to adventure +alone, and to play alone. Any peevish clinging should be quite roughly +rebuffed. From the very first day, throw a child back on its own +resources--even a little cruelly sometimes. But don't neglect it, +don't have a negative attitude to it. Play with it, tease it and roll +it over as a dog her puppy, mock it when it is too timorous, laugh at +it, scold it when it really bothers you--for a child must learn not to +bother another person--and when it makes you genuinely angry, spank it +soundly. But always remember that it is a single little soul by +itself; and that the responsibility for the wise, warm relationship is +yours, the adult's. + +Then always watch its deportment. Above all things encourage a +straight backbone and proud shoulders. Above all things despise a +slovenly movement, an ugly bearing and unpleasing manner. And make a +mock of petulance and of too much timidity. + +We are imbeciles to start bothering about love and so forth in a +child. Forget utterly that there is such a thing as emotional +reciprocity. But never forget your own honor as an adult individual +towards a small individual. It is a question of honor, not of love. + +A tree grows straight when it has deep roots and is not too stifled. +Love is a spontaneous thing, coming out of the spontaneous effectual +soul. As a deliberate principle it is an unmitigated evil. Also +morality which is based on ideas, or on an ideal, is an unmitigated +evil. A child which is proud and free in its movements, in all its +deportment, will be quite as moral as need be. Honor is an instinct, a +superb instinct which should be kept keenly alive. Immorality, vice, +crime, these come from a suppression or a collapse at one or other of +the great primary centers. If one of these centers fails to maintain +its true polarity, then there is a physical or psychic derangement, or +both. And viciousness or crime are the result of a derangement in the +primary system. Pure morality is only an instinctive adjustment which +the soul makes in every circumstance, adjusting one thing to another +livingly, delicately, sensitively. There can be no law. Therefore, at +every cost and charge keep the first four centers alive and alert, +active, and vivid in reaction. And then you need fear no perversion. +What we have done, in our era, is, first, we have tried as far as +possible to suppress or subordinate the two sensual centers. We have +so unduly insisted on and exaggerated the upper spiritual or selfless +mode--the living in the other person and through the other +person--that we have caused already a dangerous over-balance in the +natural psyche. + +To correct this we go one worse, and try to rule ourselves more and +more by the old ideas of sympathy and benevolence. We think that love +and benevolence will cure anything. Whereas love and benevolence are +our poison, poison to the giver, and still more poison to the +receiver. Poison only because there is practically _no_ spontaneous +love left in the world. It is all _will_, the fatal love-will and +insatiable morbid curiosity. The pure sympathetic mode of love long +ago broke down. There is now only deadly, exaggerated volition. + +This is also why general education should be suppressed as soon as +possible. We have fallen into a state of fixed, deadly will. +Everything we do and say to our children in school tends simply to fix +in them the same deadly will, under the pretence of pure love. Our +idealism is the clue to our fixed will. Love, beauty, benevolence, +progress, these are the words we use. But the principle we evoke is a +principle of barren, sanctified compulsion of all life. We want to put +all life under compulsion. "How to outwit the nerves," for +example.--And therefore, to save the children as far as possible, +elementary education should be stopped at once. + +No child should be sent to any sort of public institution before the +age of ten years. If I could but advise, I would advise that this +notice should be sent through the length and breadth of the land. + + "Parents, the State can no longer be responsible for the + mind and character of your children. From the first day of + the coming year, all schools will be closed for an + indefinite period. Fathers, see that your boys are trained + to be men. Mothers, see that your daughters are trained to + be women. + + "All schools will shortly be converted either into public + workshops or into gymnasia. No child will be admitted into + the workshops under ten years of age. Active training in + primitive modes of fighting and gymnastics will be + compulsory for all boys over ten years of age. + + "All girls over ten years of age must attend at one domestic + workshop. All girls over ten years of age may, in addition, + attend at one workshop of skilled labor, or of technical + industry, or of art. Admission for three months' probation. + + "All boys over ten years of age must attend at one workshop + of domestic crafts, and at one workshop of skilled labor, or + of technical industry, or of art. A boy may choose, with his + parents' consent, his school of labor, or technical industry + or art, but the directors reserve the right to transfer him + to a more suitable department, if necessary, after a three + months' probation. + + "It is the intention of this State to form a body of active, + energetic citizens. The danger of a helpless, presumptuous, + news-paper-reading population is universally recognized. + + "All elementary education is left in the hands of the + parents, save such as is necessary to the different branches + of industry. + + "Schools of mental culture are free to all individuals over + fourteen years of age. + + "Universities are free to all who obtain the first culture + degree." + +The fact is, our process of universal education is to-day so uncouth, +so psychologically barbaric, that it is the most terrible menace to +the existence of our race. We seize hold of our children, and by +parrot-compulsion we force into them a set of mental tricks. By +unnatural and unhealthy compulsion we force them into a certain amount +of cerebral activity. And then, after a few years, with a certain +number of windmills in their heads, we turn them loose, like so many +inferior Don Quixotes, to make a mess of life. All that they have +learnt in their heads has no reference at all to their dynamic souls. +The windmills spin and spin in a wind of words, Dulcinea del Toboso +beckons round every corner, and our nation of inferior Quixotes jumps +on and off tram-cars, trains, bicycles, motor-cars, buses, in one mad +chase of the divine Dulcinea, who is all the time chewing chocolates +and feeling very, very bored. It is no use telling the poor devils to +stop. They read in the newspapers about more Dulcineas and more +chivalry due to them and more horrid persons who injure the fair fame +of these bored females. And round they skelter, after their own tails. +That is, when they are not forced to grind out their lives for a wage. +Though work is the only thing that prevents our masses from going +quite mad. + +To tell the truth, ideas are the most dangerous germs mankind has ever +been injected with. They are introduced into the brain by injection, +in schools and by means of newspapers, and then we are done for. + +An idea which is merely introduced into the brain, and started +spinning there like some outrageous insect, is the cause of all our +misery to-day. Instead of living from the spontaneous centers, we live +from the head. We chew, chew, chew at some theory, some idea. We +grind, grind, grind in our mental consciousness, till we are beside +ourselves. Our primary affective centers, our centers of spontaneous +being, are so utterly ground round and automatized that they squeak in +all stages of disharmony and incipient collapse. We are a people--and +not we alone--of idiots, imbeciles and epileptics, and we don't even +know we are raving. + +And all is due, directly and solely, to that hateful germ we call the +Ideal. The Ideal is _always_ evil, no matter what ideal it be. No +idea should ever be raised to a governing throne. + +This does not mean that man should immediately cut off his head and +try to develop a pair of eyes in his breasts. But it does mean this: +that an idea is just the final concrete or registered result of living +dynamic interchange and reactions: that no idea is ever perfectly +expressed until its dynamic cause is finished; and that to continue to +put into dynamic effect an already perfected idea means the +nullification of all living activity, the substitution of mechanism, +and all the resultant horrors of _ennui_, ecstasy, neurasthenia, and a +collapsing psyche. + +The whole tree of our idea of life and living is dead. Then let us +leave off hanging ourselves and our children from its branches like +medlars. + +The idea, the actual idea, must rise ever fresh, ever displaced, like +the leaves of a tree, from out of the quickness of the sap, and +according to the forever incalculable effluence of the great dynamic +centers of life. The tree of life is a gay kind of tree that is +forever dropping its leaves and budding out afresh, quite different +ones. If the last lot were thistle leaves, the next lot may be vine. +You never can tell with the Tree of Life. + +So we come back to that precious child who costs us such a lot of +ink. By what right, I ask you, are we going to inject into him our own +disease-germs of ideas and infallible motives? By the right of the +diseased, who want to infect everybody. + +There are _few, few people_ in whom the living impulse and reaction +develops and sublimates into mental consciousness. There are all kinds +of trees in the forest. But few of them indeed bear the apples of +knowledge. The modern world insists, however, that every individual +shall bear the apples of knowledge. So we go through the forest of +mankind, cut back every tree, and try to graft it into an apple-tree. +A nice wood of monsters we make by so doing. + +It is not the _nature_ of most men to know and to understand and to +reason very far. Therefore, why should they make a pretense of it? It +is the nature of some few men to reason, then let them reason. Those +whose nature it is to be rational will instinctively ask why and +wherefore, and wrestle with themselves for an answer. But why every +Tom, Dick and Harry should have the why and wherefore of the universe +rammed into him, and should be allowed to draw the conclusion hence +that he is the ideal person and responsible for the universe, I don't +know. It is a lie anyway--for neither the whys nor the wherefores are +his own, and he is but a parrot with his nut of a universe. + +Why should we cram the mind of a child with facts that have nothing to +do with his own experiences, and have no relation to his own dynamic +activity? Let us realize that every extraneous idea effectually +introduced into a man's mind is a direct obstruction of his dynamic +activity. Every idea which is introduced from outside into a man's +mind, and which does not correspond to his own dynamic nature, is a +fatal stumbling-block for that man: is a cause of arrest for his true +individual activity, and a derangement to his psychic being. + +For instance, if I teach a man the idea that all men are equal. Now +this idea has no foundation in experience, but is logically deduced +from certain ethical or philosophic principles. But there is a disease +of idealism in the world, and we all are born with it. Particularly +teachers are born with it. So they seize on the idea of equality, and +proceed to instil it. With what result? Your man is no longer a man, +living his own life from his own spontaneous centers. He is a +theoretic imbecile trying to frustrate and dislocate all life. + +It is the death of all life to force a pure _idea_ into practice. Life +must be lived from the deep, self-responsible spontaneous centers of +every individual, in a vital, _non-ideal_ circuit of dynamic relation +between individuals. The passions or desires which are thought-born +are deadly. Any particular mode of passion or desire which receives an +exclusive ideal sanction at once becomes poisonous. + +If this is true for men, it is much more true for women. Teach a woman +to act from an idea, and you destroy her womanhood for ever. Make a +woman self-conscious, and her soul is barren as a sandbag. Why were we +driven out of Paradise? Why did we fall into this gnawing disease of +unappeasable dissatisfaction? Not because we sinned. Ah, no. All the +animals in Paradise enjoyed the sensual passion of coition. Not +because we sinned. But because we got our sex into our head. + +When Eve ate that particular apple, she became aware of her own +womanhood, mentally. And mentally she began to experiment with it. She +has been experimenting ever since. So has man. To the rage and horror +of both of them. + +These sexual experiments are really anathema. But once a woman is +sexually self-conscious, what is she to do? There it is, she is born +with the disease of her own self-consciousness, as was her mother +before her. She is bound to experiment and try one idea after another, +in the long run always to her own misery. She is bound to have fixed +one, and then another idea of herself, herself as woman. First she is +the noble spouse of a not-quite-so-noble male: then a _Mater +Dolorosa_: then a ministering Angel: then a competent social unit, a +Member of Parliament or a Lady Doctor or a platform speaker: and all +the while, as a side show, she is the Isolde of some Tristan, or the +Guinevere of some Lancelot, or the Fata Morgana of all men--in her own +idea. She can't stop having an idea of herself. She can't get herself +out of her own head. And there she is, functioning away from her own +head and her own consciousness of herself and her own automatic +self-will, till the whole man and woman game has become just a hell, +and men with any backbone would rather kill themselves than go on with +it--or kill somebody else. + +Yet we are going to inculcate more and more self-consciousness, teach +every little Mary to be more and more a nice little Mary out of her +own head, and every little Joseph to theorize himself up to the +scratch. + +And the point lies here. There will _have_ to come an end. Every race +which has become self-conscious and idea-bound in the past has +perished. And then it has all started afresh, in a different way, with +another race. And man has never learnt any better. We are really far, +far more life-stupid than the dead Greeks or the lost Etruscans. Our +day is pretty short, and closing fast. We can pass, and another race +can follow later. + +But there is another alternative. We still have in us the power to +discriminate between our own idealism, our own self-conscious will, +and that other reality, our own true spontaneous self. Certainly we +are so overloaded and diseased with ideas that we can't get well in a +minute. But we can set our faces stubbornly against the disease, once +we recognize it. The disease of love, the disease of "spirit," the +disease of niceness and benevolence and feeling good on our own behalf +and good on somebody else's behalf. Pah, it is all a gangrene. We can +retreat upon the proud, isolate self, and remain there alone, like +lepers, till we are cured of this ghastly white disease of +self-conscious idealism. + +And we really can make a move on our children's behalf. We really can +refrain from thrusting our children any more into those hot-beds of +the self-conscious disease, schools. We really can prevent their +eating much more of the tissues of leprosy, newspapers and books. For +a time, there should be no compulsory teaching to read and write at +all. _The great mass of humanity should never learn to read and +write_--_never_. + +And instead of this gnawing, gnawing disease of mental consciousness +and awful, unhealthy craving for stimulus and for action, we must +substitute genuine action. The war was really not a bad beginning. But +we went out under the banners of idealism, and now the men are home +again, the virus is more active than ever, rotting their very souls. + +The mass of the people will never _mentally understand_. But they will +soon instinctively fall into line. + +Let us substitute action, all kinds of action, for the mass of people, +in place of mental activity. Even twelve hours' work a day is better +than a newspaper at four in the afternoon and a grievance for the rest +of the evening. But particularly let us take care of the children. At +all cost, try to prevent a girl's mind from dwelling on herself, Make +her act, work, play: assume a rule over her girlhood. Let her learn +the domestic arts in their perfection. Let us even artificially set +her to spin and weave. Anything to keep her busy, to prevent her +reading and becoming self-conscious. Let us awake as soon as possible +to the repulsive machine quality of machine-made things. They smell of +death. And let us insist that the home is sacred, the hearth, and the +very things of the home. Then keep the girls apart from any +familiarity or being "pals" with the boys. The nice clean intimacy +which we now so admire between the sexes is sterilizing. It makes +neuters. Later on, no deep, magical sex-life is possible. + +The same with the boys. First and foremost establish a rule over them, +a proud, harsh, manly rule. Make them _know_ that at every moment they +are in the shadow of a proud, strong, adult authority. Let them be +soldiers, but as individuals not machine units. There are wars in the +future, great wars, which not machines will finally decide, but the +free, indomitable life spirit. No more wars under the banners of the +ideal, and in the spirit of sacrifice. But wars in the strength of +individual men. And then, pure individualistic training to fight, and +preparation for a whole new way of life, a new society. Put money +into its place, and science and industry. The leaders must stand for +life, and they must not ask the simple followers to point out the +direction. When the leaders assume responsibility they relieve the +followers forever of the burden of finding a way. Relieved of this +hateful incubus of responsibility for general affairs, the populace +can again become free and happy and spontaneous, leaving matters to +their superiors. No newspapers--the mass of the people never learning +to read. The evolving once more of the great spontaneous gestures of +life. + +We can't go on as we are. Poor, nerve-worn creatures, fretting our +lives away and hating to die because we have never lived. The secret +is, to commit into the hands of the sacred few the responsibility +which now lies like torture on the mass. Let the few, the leaders, be +increasingly responsible for the whole. And let the mass be free: +free, save for the choice of leaders. + +Leaders--this is what mankind is craving for. + +But men must be prepared to obey, body and soul, once they have chosen +the leader. And let them choose the leader for life's sake only. + +Begin then--there is a beginning. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +EDUCATION AND SEX IN MAN, WOMAN AND CHILD + + +The one thing we have to avoid, then, even while we carry on our own old +process of education, is this development of the powers of so-called +self-expression in a child. Let us beware of artificially stimulating +his self-consciousness and his so-called imagination. All that we do is +to pervert the child into a ghastly state of self-consciousness, making +him affectedly try to show off as we wish him to show off. The moment +the least little trace of self-consciousness enters in a child, good-by +to everything except falsity. + +Much better just pound away at the ABC and simple arithmetic and so +on. The modern methods do make children sharp, give them a sort of +slick finesse, but it is the beginning of the mischief. It ends in the +great "unrest" of a nervous, hysterical proletariat. Begin to teach a +child of five to "understand." To understand the sun and moon and +daisy and the secrets of procreation, bless your soul. Understanding +all the way.--And when the child is twenty he'll have a hysterical +understanding of his own invented grievance, and there's an end of +him. Understanding is the devil. + +A child mustn't understand things. He must have them his own way. His +vision isn't ours. When a boy of eight sees a horse, he doesn't see +the correct biological object we intend him to see. He sees a big +living presence of no particular shape with hair dangling from its +neck and four legs. If he puts two eyes in the profile, he is quite +right. Because he does _not_ see with optical, photographic vision. +The image on his retina is _not_ the image of his consciousness. The +image on his retina just does not go into him. His unconsciousness is +filled with a strong, dark, vague prescience of a powerful presence, a +two-eyed, four-legged, long-maned presence looming imminent. + +And to _force_ the boy to see a correct one-eyed horse-profile is just +like pasting a placard in front of his vision. It simply kills his +inward seeing. We don't _want_ him to see a proper horse. The child is +_not_ a little camera. He is a small vital organism which has direct +dynamic _rapport_ with the objects of the outer universe. He +perceives from his breast and his abdomen, with deep-sunken realism, +the elemental nature of the creature. So that to this day a Noah's Ark +tree is more real than a Corot tree or a Constable tree: and a flat +Noah's Ark cow has a deeper vital reality than even a Cuyp cow. + +The mode of vision is not one and final. The mode of vision is +manifold. And the optical image is a mere vibrating blur to a +child--and, indeed, to a passionate adult. In this vibrating blur the +soul sees its own true correspondent. It sees, in a cow, horns and +squareness, and a long tail. It sees, for a horse, a mane, and a long +face, round nose, and four legs. And in each case a darkly vital +presence. Now horns and squareness and a long thin ox-tail, these are +the fearful and wonderful elements of the cow-form, which the dynamic +soul perfectly perceives. The ideal-image is just outside nature, for +a child--something false. In a picture, a child wants elemental +recognition, and not correctness or expression, or least of all, what +we call understanding. The child distorts inevitably and dynamically. +But the dynamic abstraction is more than mental. If a huge eye sits in +the middle of the cheek, in a child's drawing, this shows that the +deep dynamic consciousness of the eye, its relative exaggeration, is +the life-truth, even if it is a scientific falsehood. + +On the other hand, what on earth is the good of saying to a child, +"The world is a flattened sphere, like an orange." It is simply +pernicious. You had much better say the world is a poached egg in a +frying pan. _That_ might have some dynamic meaning. The only thing +about the flattened orange is that the child just sees this orange +disporting itself in blue air, and never bothers to associate it with +the earth he treads on. And yet it would be so much better for the +mass of mankind if they never heard of the flattened sphere. They +should never be told that the earth is round. It only makes everything +unreal to them. They are balked in their impression of the flat good +earth, they can't get over this sphere business, they live in a fog of +abstraction, and nothing is anything. Save for purposes of +abstraction, the earth is a great plain, with hills and valleys. Why +force abstractions and kill the reality, when there's no need? + +As for children, will we never realize that their abstractions are +never based on observations, but on subjective exaggerations? If there +is an eye in the face, the face is all eye. It is the child soul +which cannot get over the mystery of the eye. If there is a tree in a +landscape, the landscape is all tree. Always this partial focus. The +attempt to make a child focus for a whole view--which is really a +generalization and an adult abstraction--is simply wicked. Yet the +first thing we do is to set a child making relief-maps in clay, for +example: of his own district. Imbecility! He has not even the faintest +impression of the total hill on which his home stands. A steepness +going up to a door--and front garden railings--and perhaps windows. +That's the lot. + +The top and bottom of it is, that it is a crime to teach a child +anything at all, school-wise. It is just evil to collect children +together and teach them through the head. It causes absolute +starvation in the dynamic centers, and sterile substitute of brain +knowledge is all the gain. The children of the middle classes are so +vitally impoverished, that the miracle is they continue to exist at +all. The children of the lower classes do better, because they escape +into the streets. But even the children of the proletariat are now +infected. + +And, of course, as my critics point out, under all the school-smarm +and newspaper-cant, man is to-day as savage as a cannibal, and more +dangerous. The living dynamic self is denaturalized instead of being +educated. + +We talk about education--leading forth the natural intelligence of a +child. But ours is just the opposite of leading forth. It is a ramming +in of brain facts through the head, and a consequent distortion, +suffocation, and starvation of the primary centers of consciousness. A +nice day of reckoning we've got in front of us. + +Let us lead forth, by all means. But let us not have mental knowledge +before us as the goal of the leading. Much less let us make of it a +vicious circle in which we lead the unhappy child-mind, like a cow in +a ring at a fair. We don't want to educate children so that they may +understand. Understanding is a fallacy and a vice in most people. I +don't even want my child to know, much less to understand. _I_ don't +want my child to know that five fives are twenty-five, any more than I +want my child to wear my hat or my boots. I _don't_ want my child to +_know_. If he wants five fives let him count them on his fingers. As +for his little mind, give it a rest, and let his dynamic self be +alert. He will ask "why" often enough. But he more often asks why the +sun shines, or why men have mustaches, or why grass is green, than +anything sensible. Most of a child's questions are, and should be, +unanswerable. They are not questions at all. They are exclamations of +wonder, they are _remarks_ half-sceptically addressed. When a child +says, "Why is grass green?" he half implies. "Is it really green, or +is it just taking me in?" And we solemnly begin to prate about +chlorophyll. Oh, imbeciles, idiots, inexcusable owls! + +The whole of a child's development goes on from the great dynamic +centers, and is basically non-mental. To introduce mental activity is +to arrest the dynamic activity, and stultify true dynamic development. +By the age of twenty-one our young people are helpless, hopeless, +selfless, floundering mental entities, with nothing in front of them, +because they have been starved from the roots, systematically, for +twenty-one years, and fed through the head. They have had all their +mental excitements, sex and everything, all through the head, and when +it comes to the actual thing, why, there's nothing in it. _Blasé._ The +affective centers have been exhausted from the head. + +Before the age of fourteen, children should be taught only to move, to +act, to _do_. And they should be taught as little as possible even of +this. Adults simply cannot and do not know any more what the mode of +childish intelligence is. Adults _always_ interfere. They _always_ +force the adult mental mode. Therefore children must be preserved from +adult instructions. + +Make a child work--yes. Make it do little jobs. Keep a fine and +delicate and fierce discipline, so that the little jobs are performed +as perfectly as is consistent with the child's nature. Make the child +alert, proud, and becoming in its movements. Make it know very +definitely that it shall not and must not trespass on other people's +privacy or patience. Teach it songs, tell it tales. But _never_ +instruct it school-wise. And mostly, leave it alone, send it away to +be with other children and to get in and out of mischief, and in and +out of danger. Forget your child altogether as much as possible. + +All this is the active and strenuous business of parents, and must not +be shelved off on to strangers. It is the business of parents +_mentally_ to forget but dynamically never to forsake their children. + +It is no use expecting parents to know _why_ schools are closed, and +_why_ they, the parents, must be quite responsible for their own +children during the first ten years. If it is quite useless to expect +parents to understand a theory of relativity, much less will they +understand the development of the dynamic consciousness. But why should +they understand? It is the business of very few to understand and for +the mass, it is their business to believe and not to bother, but to be +honorable and humanly to fulfill their human responsibilities. To give +active obedience to their leaders, and to possess their own souls in +natural pride. + +Some must understand why a child is not to be mentally educated. Some +must have a faint inkling of the processes of consciousness during the +first fourteen years. Some must know what a child beholds, when it +looks at a horse, and what it means when it says, "Why is grass +green?" The answer to this question, by the way, is "Because it is." + +The interplay of the four dynamic centers follows no one conceivable +law. Mental activity continues according to a law of co-relation. But +there is no logical or rational co-relation in the dynamic +consciousness. It pulses on inconsequential, and it would be +impossible to determine any sequence. Out of the very lack of sequence +in dynamic consciousness does the individual himself develop. The +dynamic abstraction of a child's precepts follows no mental law, and +even no law which can ever be mentally propounded. And this is why it +is utterly pernicious to set a child making a clay relief-map of its +own district, or to ask a child to draw conclusions from given +observations. Dynamically, a child draws no conclusions. All things +still remain dynamically possible. A conclusion drawn is a nail in the +coffin of a child's developing being. Let a child make a clay +landscape, if it likes. But entirely according to its own fancy, and +without conclusions drawn. Only, let the landscape be vividly +made--always the discipline of the soul's full attention. "Oh, but +where are the factory chimneys?"--or else--"Why have you left out the +gas-works?" or "Do you call that sloppy thing a church?" The +particular focus should be vivid, and the record in some way true. The +soul must give earnest attention, that is all. + +And so actively disciplined, the child develops for the first ten +years. We need not be afraid of letting children see the passions and +reactions of adult life. Only we must not strain the _sympathies_ of a +child, in _any_ direction, particularly the direction of love and +pity. Nor must we introduce the fallacy of right and wrong. +Spontaneous distaste should take the place of right and wrong. And +least of all must there be a cry: "You see, dear, you don't +understand. When you are older--" A child's sagacity is better than an +adult understanding, anyhow. + +Of course it is ten times criminal to tell young children facts about +sex, or to implicate them in adult relationships. A child has a strong +evanescent sex consciousness. It instinctively writes impossible words +on back walls. But this is not a fully conscious mental act. It is a +kind of dream act--quite natural. The child's curious, shadowy, +indecent sex-knowledge is quite in the course of nature. And does +nobody any harm at all. Adults had far better not notice it. But if a +child sees a cockerel tread a hen, or two dogs coupling, well and +good. It _should_ see these things. Only, without comment. Let nothing +be exaggeratedly hidden. By instinct, let us preserve the decent +privacies. But if a child occasionally sees its parent nude, taking a +bath, all the better. Or even sitting in the W. C. Exaggerated secrecy +is bad. But indecent exposure is also very bad. But worst of all is +dragging in the _mental_ consciousness of these shadowy dynamic +realities. + +In the same way, to talk to a child about an adult is vile. Let +adults keep their adult feelings and communications for people of +their own age. But if a child sees its parents violently quarrel, all +the better. There must be storms. And a child's dynamic understanding +is far deeper and more penetrating than our sophisticated +interpretation. But _never_ make a child a party to adult affairs. +Never drag the child in. Refuse its sympathy on such occasions. Always +treat it as if it had _no_ business to hear, even if it is present and +_must_ hear. Truly, it has no business mentally to hear. And the +dynamic soul will always weigh things up and dispose of them properly, +if there be no interference of adult comment or adult desire for +sympathy. It is despicable for any one parent to accept a child's +sympathy against the other parent. And the one who _received_ the +sympathy is always more contemptible than the one who is hated. + +Of course so many children are born to-day unnaturally mentally awake +and alive to adult affairs, that there is nothing left but to tell +them everything, crudely: or else, much better, to say: "Ah, get out, +you know too much, you make me sick." + +To return to the question of sex. A child is born sexed. A child is +either male or female, in the whole of its psyche and physique is +either male or female. Every single living cell is either male or +female, and will remain either male or female as long as life lasts. +And every single cell in every male child is male, and every cell in +every female child is female. The talk about a third sex, or about the +indeterminate sex, is just to pervert the issue. + +Biologically, it is true, the rudimentary formation of both sexes is +found in every individual. That doesn't mean that every individual is +a bit of both, or either, _ad lib._ After a sufficient period of +idealism, men become hopelessly self-conscious. That is, the great +affective centers no longer act spontaneously, but always wait for +control from the head. This always breeds a great fluster in the +psyche, and the poor self-conscious individual cannot help posing and +posturing. Our ideal has taught us to be gentle and wistful: rather +girlish and yielding, and _very_ yielding in our sympathies. In fact, +many young men feel so very like what they imagine a girl must feel, +that hence they draw the conclusion that they must have a large share +of female sex inside them. False conclusion. + +These girlish men have often, to-day, the finest maleness, once it is +put to the test. How is it then that they feel, and look, so girlish? +It is largely a question of the direction of the polarized flow. Our +ideal has taught us to be _so_ loving and _so_ submissive and _so_ +yielding in our sympathy, that the mode has become automatic in many +men. Now in what we will call the "natural" mode, man has his +positivity in the volitional centers, and women in the sympathetic. In +fulfilling the Christian love ideal, however, men have reversed this. +Man has assumed the gentle, all-sympathetic rôle, and woman has become +the energetic party, with the authority in her hands. The male is the +sensitive, sympathetic nature, the woman the active, effective, +authoritative. So that the male acts as the passive, or recipient pole +of attraction, the female as the active, positive, exertive pole, in +human relations. Which is a reversal of the old flow. The woman is now +the initiator, man the responder. They seem to play each other's +parts. But man is purely male, playing woman's part, and woman is +purely female, however manly. The gulf between Heliogabalus, or the +most womanly man on earth, and the most manly woman, is just the same +as ever: just the same old gulf between the sexes. The man is male, +the woman is female. Only they are playing one another's parts, as +they must at certain periods. The dynamic polarity has swung around. + +If we look a little closer, we can define this positive and negative +business better. As a matter of fact, positive and negative, passive +and active cuts both ways. If the man, as thinker and doer, is active, +or positive, and the woman negative, then, on the other hand, as the +initiator of emotion, of feeling, and of sympathetic understanding the +woman is positive, the man negative. The man may be the initiator in +action, but the woman is initiator in emotion. The man has the +initiative as far as voluntary activity goes, and the woman the +initiative as far as sympathetic activity goes. In love, it is the +woman naturally who loves, the man who is loved. In love, woman is the +positive, man the negative. It is woman who asks, in love, and man who +answers. In life, the reverse is the case. In knowing and in doing, +man is positive and woman negative: man initiates, and woman lives up +to it. + +Naturally this nicely arranged order of things may be reversed. Action +and utterance, which are male, are polarized against feeling, emotion, +which are female. And which is positive, which negative? Was man, the +eternal protagonist, born of woman, from her womb of fathomless +emotion? Or was woman, with her deep womb of emotion, born from the +rib of active man, the first created? Man, the doer, the knower, the +original in _being_, is he lord of life? Or is woman, the great +Mother, who bore us from the womb of love, is she the supreme Goddess? + +This is the question of all time. And as long as man and woman endure, +so will the answer be given, first one way, then the other. Man, as +the utterer, usually claims that Eve was created out of his spare rib: +from the field of the creative, upper dynamic consciousness, that is. +But woman, as soon as she gets a word in, points to the fact that man +inevitably, poor darling, is the issue of his mother's womb. So the +battle rages. + +But some men always agree with the woman. Some men always yield to +woman the creative positivity. And in certain periods, such as the +present, the majority of men concur in regarding woman as the source +of life, the first term in creation: woman, the mother, the prime +being. + +And then, the whole polarity shifts over. Man still remains the doer +and thinker. But he is so only in the service of emotional and +procreative woman. His highest moment is now the emotional moment when +he gives himself up to the woman, when he forms the perfect answer +for her great emotional and procreative asking. All his thinking, all +his activity in the world only contributes to this great moment, when +he is fulfilled in the emotional passion of the woman, the birth of +rebirth, as Whitman calls it. In his consummation in the emotional +passion of a woman, man is reborn, which is quite true. + +And there is the point at which we all now stick. Life, thought, and +activity, all are devoted truly to the great end of Woman, wife and +mother. + +Man has now entered on to his negative mode. Now, his consummation is +in feeling, not in action. Now, his activity is all of the domestic +order and all his thought goes to proving that nothing matters except +that birth shall continue and woman shall rock in the nest of this +globe like a bird who covers her eggs in some tall tree. Man is the +fetcher, the carrier, the sacrifice, the crucified, and the reborn of +woman. + +This being so, the whole tendency of his nature changes. Instead of +being assertive and rather insentient, he becomes wavering and +sensitive. He begins to have as many feelings--nay, more than a woman. +His heroism is all in altruistic endurance. He worships pity and +tenderness and weakness, even in himself. In short, he takes on very +largely the original rôle of woman. Woman meanwhile becomes the +fearless, inwardly relentless, determined positive party. She grips +the responsibility. The hand that rocks the cradle rules the world. +Nay, she makes man discover that cradles should not be rocked, in +order that her hands may be left free. She is now a queen of the +earth, and inwardly a fearsome tyrant. She keeps pity and tenderness +emblazoned on her banners. But God help the man whom she pities. +Ultimately she tears him to bits. + +Therefore we see the reversal of the old poles. Man becomes the +emotional party, woman the positive and active. Man begins to show +strong signs of the peculiarly strong passive sex desire, the desire +to be taken, which is considered characteristic of woman. Man begins +to have all the feelings of woman--or all the feelings which he +attributed to woman. He becomes more feminine than woman ever was, and +worships his own femininity, calling it the highest. In short, he +begins to exhibit all signs of sexual complexity. He begins to imagine +he really is half female. And certainly woman seems very male. So the +hermaphrodite fallacy revives again. + +But it is all a fallacy. Man, in the midst of all his effeminacy, is +still male and nothing but male. And woman, though she harangue in +Parliament or patrol the streets with a helmet on her head, is still +completely female. They are only playing each other's rôles, because +the poles have swung into reversion. The compass is reversed. But that +doesn't mean that the north pole has become the south pole, or that +each is a bit of both. + +Of course a woman should stick to her own natural emotional +positivity. But then man must stick to his own positivity of _being_, +of action, _disinterested, non-domestic, male_ action, which is not +devoted to the increase of the female. Once man vacates his camp of +sincere, passionate positivity in disinterested being, his supreme +responsibility to fulfill his own profoundest impulses, with reference +to none but God or his own soul, not taking woman into count at all, +in this primary responsibility to his own deepest soul; once man +vacates this strong citadel of his own genuine, not spurious, +divinity; then in comes woman, picks up the scepter and begins to +conduct a rag-time band. + +Man remains man, however he may put on wistfulness and tenderness like +petticoats, and sensibilities like pearl ornaments. Your sensitive +little big-eyed boy, so much more gentle and loving than his harder +sister, is male for all that, believe me. Perhaps evilly male, so +mothers may learn to their cost: and wives still more. + +Of course there should be a great balance between the sexes. Man, in +the daytime, must follow his own soul's greatest impulse, and give +himself to life-work and risk himself to death. It is not woman who +claims the highest in man. It is a man's own religious soul that +drives him on beyond woman, to his supreme activity. For his highest, +man is responsible to God alone. He may not pause to remember that he +has a life to lose, or a wife and children to leave. He must carry +forward the banner of life, though seven worlds perish, with all the +wives and mothers and children in them. Hence Jesus, "Woman, what have +I to do with thee?" Every man that lives has to say it again to his +wife or mother, once he has any work or mission in hand, that comes +from his soul. + +But again, no man is a blooming marvel for twenty-four hours a day. +Jesus or Napoleon or any other of them ought to have been man enough +to be able to come home at tea-time and put his slippers on and sit +under the spell of his wife. For there you are, the woman has her +world, her positivity: the world of love, of emotion, of sympathy. And +it behooves every man in his hour to take off his shoes and relax and +give himself up to his woman and her world. Not to give up his +purpose. But to give up himself for a time to her who is his +mate.--And so it is one detests the clock-work Kant, and the +petit-bourgeois Napoleon divorcing his Josephine for a Hapsburg--or +even Jesus, with his "Woman, what have I to do with thee?"--He might +have added "just now."--They were all failures. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE BIRTH OF SEX + + +The last chapter was a chapter of semi-digression. We now return to +the straight course. Is the straightness none too evident? Ah well, +it's a matter of relativity. A child is born with one sex only, and +remains always single in his sex. There is no intermingling, only a +great change of rôles is possible. But man in the female rôle is still +male. + +Sex--that is to say, maleness and femaleness--is present from the +moment of birth, and in every act or deed of every child. But sex in +the real sense of dynamic sexual relationship, this does not exist in +a child, and cannot exist until puberty and after. True, children have +a sort of sex consciousness. Little boys and little girls may even +commit indecencies together. And still it is nothing vital. It is a +sort of shadow activity, a sort of dream-activity. It has no very +profound effect. + +But still, boys and girls should be kept apart as much as possible, +that they may have some sort of respect and fear for the gulf that +lies between them in nature, and for the great strangeness which each +has to offer the other, finally. We are all wrong when we say there is +no vital difference between the sexes. There is every difference. +Every bit, every cell in a boy is male, every cell is female in a +woman, and must remain so. Women can never feel or know as men do. And +in the reverse men can never feel and know, dynamically, as women do. +Man, acting in the passive or feminine polarity, is still man, and he +doesn't have one single unmanly feeling. And women, when they speak +and write, utter not one single word that men have not taught them. +Men learn their feelings from women, women learn their mental +consciousness from men. And so it will ever be. Meanwhile, women live +forever by feeling, and men live forever from an inherent sense of +_purpose_. Feeling is an end in itself. This is unspeakable truth to a +woman, and never true for one minute to a man. When man, in the +Epicurean spirit, embraces feeling, he makes himself a martyr to +it--like Maupassant or Oscar Wilde. Woman will _never_ understand the +depth of the spirit of purpose in man, his deeper spirit. And man +will never understand the sacredness of feeling to woman. Each will +play at the other's game, but they will remain apart. + +The whole mode, the whole everything is really different in man and +woman. Therefore we should keep boys and girls apart, that they are +pure and virgin in themselves. On mixing with one another, in becoming +familiar, in being "pals," they lose their own male and female +integrity. And they lose the treasure of the future, the vital sex +polarity, the dynamic magic of life. For the magic and the dynamism +rests on _otherness_. + +For actual sex is a vital polarity. And a polarity which rouses into +action, as we know, at puberty. + +And how? As we know, a child lives from the great field of dynamic +consciousness established between the four poles of the dynamic +psyche, two great poles of sympathy, two great poles of will. The +solar plexus and the lumbar ganglion, great nerve-centers below the +diaphragm, act as the dynamic origin of all consciousness in man, and +are immediately polarized by the other two nerve-centers, the cardiac +plexus and the thoracic ganglion above the diaphragm. At these four +poles the whole flow, both within the individual and from without +him, of dynamic consciousness and dynamic creative relationship is +centered. These four first poles constitute the first field of dynamic +consciousness for the first twelve or fourteen years of the life of +every child. + +And then a change takes place. It takes place slowly, gradually and +inevitably, utterly beyond our provision or control. The living soul +is unfolding itself in another great metamorphosis. + +What happens, in the biological psyche, is that deeper centers of +consciousness and function come awake. Deep in the lower body the +great sympathetic center, the hypogastric plexus has been acting all +the time in a kind of dream-automatism, balanced by its corresponding +voluntary center, the sacral ganglion. At the age of twelve these two +centers begin slowly to rumble awake, with a deep reverberant force +that changes the whole constitution of the life of the individual. + +And as these two centers, the sympathetic center of the deeper +abdomen, and the voluntary center of the loins, gradually sparkle into +wakeful, _conscious_ activity, their corresponding poles are roused in +the upper body. In the region of the throat and neck, the so-called +cervical plexuses and the cervical ganglia dawn into activity. + +We have now another field of dawning dynamic consciousness, that will +extend far beyond the first. And now various things happen to us. +First of all actual sex establishes its strange and troublesome +presence within us. This is the massive wakening of the lower body. +And then, in the upper body, the breasts of a woman begin to develop, +her throat changes its form. And in the man, the voice breaks, the +beard begins to grow round the lips and on to the throat. There are +the obvious physiological changes resulting from the gradual bursting +into free activity of the hypogastric plexus and the sacral ganglion, +in the lower body, and of the cervical plexuses and ganglia of the +neck, in the upper body. + +Why the growth of hair should start at the lower and upper sympathetic +regions we cannot say. Perhaps for protection. Perhaps to preserve +these powerful yet supersensitive nodes from the inclemency of changes +in temperature, which might cause a derangement. Perhaps for the sake +of protective warning, as hair warns when it is touched. Perhaps for a +screen against various dynamic vibrations, and as a receiver of other +suited dynamic vibrations. It may be that even the hair of the head +acts as a sensitive vibration-medium for conveying currents of +physical and vitalistic activity to and from the brain. And perhaps +from the centers of intense vital surcharge hair springs as a sort of +annunciation or declaration, like a crest of life-assertion. Perhaps +all these things, and perhaps others. + +But with the bursting awake of the four new poles of dynamic +consciousness and being, change takes place in everything, the +features now begin to take individual form, the limbs develop out of +the soft round matrix of child-form, the body resolves itself into +distinctions. A strange creative change in being has taken place. The +child before puberty is quite another thing from the child after +puberty. Strange indeed is this new birth, this rising from the sea of +childhood into a new being. It is a resurrection which we fear. + +And now, a new world, a new heaven and a new earth. Now new +relationships are formed, the old ones retire from their prominence. +Now mother and father inevitably give way before masters and +mistresses, brothers and sisters yield to friends. This is the period +of _Schwärmerei_, of young adoration and of real initial friendships. +A child before puberty has playmates. After puberty he has friends and +enemies. + +A whole new field of passional relationship. And the old bonds +relaxing, the old love retreating. The father and mother bonds now +relax, though they never break. The family love wanes, though it never +dies. + +It is the hour of the stranger. Let the stranger now enter the soul. + +And it is the first hour of true individuality, the first hour of +genuine, responsible solitariness. A child knows the abyss of +forlornness. But an adolescent alone knows the strange pain of growing +into his own isolation of individuality. + +All this change is an agony and a bliss. It is a cataclysm and a new +world. It is our most serious hour, perhaps. And yet we cannot be +responsible for it. + +Now sex comes into active being. Until puberty, sex is submerged, +nascent, incipient only. After puberty, it is a tremendous factor. + +What is sex, really? We can never say, satisfactorily. But we know so +much: we know that it is a dynamic polarity between human beings, and +a circuit of force _always_ flowing. The psychoanalyst is right so +far. There can be no vivid relation between two adult individuals +which does not consist in a dynamic polarized flow of vitalistic force +or magnetism or electricity, call it what you will, between these two +people. Yet is this dynamic flow inevitably sexual in nature? + +This is the moot point for psychoanalysis. But let us look at sex, in +its obvious manifestation. The _sexual_ relation between man and woman +consummates in the act of coition. Now what is the act of coition? We +know its functional purpose of procreation. But, after all our +experience and all our poetry and novels we know that the procreative +purpose of sex is, to the individual man and woman, just a side-show. +To the individual, the act of coition is a great psychic experience, a +vital experience of tremendous importance. On this vital individual +experience the life and very being of the individual largely depends. + +But what is the experience? Untellable. Only, we know something. We +know that in the act of coition the _blood_ of the individual man, +acutely surcharged with intense vital electricity--we know no word, so +say "electricity," by analogy--rises to a culmination, in a tremendous +magnetic urge towards the magnetic blood of the female. The whole of +the living blood in the two individuals forms a field of intense, +polarized magnetic attraction. So, the two poles must be brought into +contact. In the act of coition, the two seas of blood in the two +individuals, rocking and surging towards contact, as near as possible, +clash into a oneness. A great flash of interchange occurs, like an +electric spark when two currents meet or like lightning out of the +densely surcharged clouds. There is a lightning flash which passes +through the blood of both individuals, there is a thunder of sensation +which rolls in diminishing crashes down the nerves of each--and then +the tension passes. + +The two individuals are separate again. But are they as they were +before? Is the air the same after a thunder-storm as before? No. The +air is as it were new, fresh, tingling with newness. So is the blood +of man and woman after successful coition. After a false coition, like +prostitution, there is not newness but a certain disintegration. + +But after coition, the actual chemical constitution of the blood is so +changed, that usually sleep intervenes, to allow the time for +chemical, biological readjustment through the whole system. + +So, the blood is changed and renewed, refreshed, almost recreated, +like the atmosphere after thunder. Out of the newness of the living +blood pass the new strange waves which beat upon the great dynamic +centers of the nerves: primarily upon the hypogastric plexus and the +sacral ganglion. From these centers rise new impulses, new vision, new +being, rising like Aphrodite from the foam of the new tide of blood. +And so individual life goes on. + +Perhaps, then, we will allow ourselves to say what, in psychic +individual reality, is the act of coition. It is the bringing together +of the surcharged electric blood of the male with the polarized +electric blood of the female, with the result of a tremendous flashing +interchange, which alters the constitution of the blood, and the very +quality of _being_, in both. + +And this, surely, is sex. But is this the whole of sex? That is the +question. + +After coition, we say the blood is renewed. We say that from the new, +finely sparkling blood new thrills pass into the great affective +centers of the lower body, new thrills of feeling, of impulse, of +energy.--And what about these new thrills? + +Now, a new story. The new thrills are passed on to the great upper +centers of the dynamic body. The individual polarity now changes, +within the individual system. The upper centers, cardiac plexus and +cervical plexuses, thoracic ganglion and cervical ganglia now assume +positivity. These, the upper polarized centers, have now the positive +rôle to play, the solar and the hypogastric plexuses, the lumbar and +the sacral ganglia, these have the submissive, negative rôle for the +time being. + +And what then? What now, that the upper centers are finely active in +positivity? Now it is a different story. Now there is new vision in +the eyes, new hearing in the ears, new voice in the throat and speech +on the lips. Now the new song rises, the brain tingles to new thought, +the heart craves for new activity. + +The heart craves for new activity. For new _collective_ activity. That +is, for a new polarized connection with other beings, other men. + +Is this new craving for polarized communion with others, this craving +for a new unison, is it sexual, like the original craving for the +woman? Not at all. The whole polarity is different. Now, the positive +poles are the poles of the breast and shoulders and throat, the poles +of activity and full consciousness. Men, being themselves made new +after the act of coition, wish to make the world new. A new, +passionate polarity springs up between men who are bent on the same +activity, the polarity between man and woman sinks to passivity. It is +now daytime, and time to forget sex, time to be busy making a new +world. + +Is this new polarity, this new circuit of passion between comrades and +co-workers, is this also sexual? It is a vivid circuit of polarized +passion. Is it hence sex? + +It is not. Because what are the poles of positive connection?--the +upper, busy poles. What is the dynamic contact?--a unison in spirit, +in understanding, and a pure commingling in one great _work_. A +mingling of the individual passion into one great _purpose_. Now this +is also a grand consummation for men, this mingling of many with one +great impassioned purpose. But is this sex? Knowing what sex is, can +we call this other also sex? We cannot. + +This meeting of many in one great passionate purpose is not sex, and +should never be confused with sex. It is a great motion in the +opposite direction. And I am sure that the ultimate, greatest desire +in men is this desire for great _purposive_ activity. When man loses +his deep sense of purposive, creative activity, he feels lost, and is +lost. When he makes the sexual consummation the supreme consummation, +even in his _secret_ soul, he falls into the beginnings of despair. +When he makes woman, or the woman and child the great center of life +and of life-significance, he falls into the beginnings of despair. + +Man must bravely stand by his own soul, his own responsibility as the +creative vanguard of life. And he must also have the courage to go +home to his woman and become a perfect answer to her deep sexual call. +But he must never confuse his two issues. Primarily and supremely man +is _always_ the pioneer of life, adventuring onward into the unknown, +alone with his own temerarious, dauntless soul. Woman for him exists +only in the twilight, by the camp fire, when day has departed. Evening +and the night are hers. + +The psychoanalysts, driving us back to the sexual consummation always, +do us infinite damage. + +We have to break away, back to the great unison of manhood in some +passionate _purpose_. Now this is not like sex. Sex is always +individual. A man has his own sex: nobody else's. And sexually he goes +as a single individual; he can mingle only singly. So that to make sex +a general affair is just a perversion and a lie. You can't get people +and talk to them about their sex, as if it were a common interest. + +We have got to get back to the great purpose of manhood, a passionate +unison in actively making a world. This is a real commingling of many. +And in such a commingling we forfeit the individual. In the +commingling of sex we are alone with _one_ partner. It is an +individual affair, there is no superior or inferior. But in the +commingling of a passionate purpose, each individual sacredly abandons +his individual. In the living faith of his soul, he surrenders his +individuality to the great urge which is upon him. He may have to +surrender his name, his fame, his fortune, his life, everything. But +once a man, in the integrity of his own individual soul, _believes_, +he surrenders his own individuality to his belief, and becomes one of +a united body. He knows what he does. He makes the surrender +honorably, in agreement with his own soul's deepest desire. But he +surrenders, and remains responsible for the purity of his surrender. + +But what if he believes that his sexual consummation is his supreme +consummation? Then he serves the great purpose to which he pledges +himself only as long as it pleases him. After which he turns it down, +and goes back to sex. With sex as the one accepted prime motive, the +world drifts into despair and anarchy. + +Of all countries, America has most to fear from anarchy, even from one +single moment's lapse into anarchy. The old nations are _organically_ +fixed into classes, but America not. You can shake Europe to atoms. +And yet peasants fall back to peasantry, artisans to industrial labor, +upper classes to their control--inevitably. But can you say the same +of America? + +America must not lapse for one single moment into anarchy. It would be +the end of her. She must drift no nearer to anarchy. She is near +enough. + +Well, then, Americans must make a choice. It is a choice between +belief in man's creative, spontaneous soul, and man's automatic power +of production and reproduction. It is a choice between serving _man_, +or woman. It is a choice between yielding the soul to a leader, +leaders, or yielding only to the woman, wife, mistress, or mother. + +The great collective passion of belief which brings men together, +comrades and co-workers, passionately obeying their soul-chosen leader +or leaders, this is not a sex passion. Not in any sense. Sex holds +any _two_ people together, but it tends to disintegrate society, +unless it is subordinated to the great dominating male passion of +collective _purpose_. + +But when the sex passion submits to the great purposive passion, then +you have fulness. And no great purposive passion can endure long +unless it is established upon the fulfillment in the vast majority of +individuals of the true sexual passion. No great motive or ideal or +social principle can endure for any length of time unless based upon +the sexual fulfillment of the vast majority of individuals concerned. + +It cuts both ways. Assert sex as the predominant fulfillment, and you +get the collapse of living purpose in man. You get anarchy. Assert +_purposiveness_ as the one supreme and pure activity of life, and you +drift into barren sterility, like our business life of to-day, and our +political life. You become sterile, you make anarchy inevitable. And +so there you are. You have got to base your great purposive activity +upon the intense sexual fulfillment of all your individuals. That was +how Egypt endured. But you have got to keep your sexual fulfillment +even then subordinate, just subordinate to the great passion of +purpose: subordinate by a hair's breadth only: but still, by that +hair's breadth, subordinate. + +Perhaps we can see now a little better--to go back to the child--where +Freud is wrong in attributing a sexual motive to all human activity. +It is obvious there is no real sexual motive in a child, for example. +The great sexual centers are not even awake. True, even in a child of +three, rudimentary sex throws strange shadows on the wall, in its +approach from the distance. But these are only an uneasy intrusion +from the as-yet-uncreated, unready biological centers. The great +sexual centers of the hypogastric plexus, and the immensely powerful +sacral ganglion are slowly prepared, developed in a kind of prenatal +gestation during childhood before puberty. But even an unborn child +kicks in the womb. So do the great sex-centers give occasional blind +kicks in a child. It is part of the phenomenon of childhood. But we +must be most careful not to charge these rather unpleasant apparitions +or phenomena against the individual boy or girl. We must be _very_ +careful not to drag the matter into mental consciousness. Shoo it +away. Reprimand it with a pah! and a faugh! and a bit of contempt. But +do not get into any heat or any fear. Do not startle a passional +attention. Drive the whole thing away like the shadow it is, and be +_very_ careful not to drive it into the consciousness. Be very careful +to plant no seed of burning shame or horror. Throw over it merely the +cold water of contemptuous indifference, dismissal. + +After puberty, a child may as well be told the simple and necessary +facts of sex. As things stand, the parent may as well do it. But +briefly, coldly, and with as cold a dismissal as possible.--"Look +here, you're not a child any more; you know it, don't you? You're +going to be a man. And you know what that means. It means you're going +to marry a woman later on, and get children. You know it, and I know +it. But in the meantime, leave yourself alone. I know you'll have a +lot of bother with yourself, and your feelings. I know what is +happening to you. And I know you get excited about it. But you +needn't. Other men have all gone through it. So don't you go creeping +off by yourself and doing things on the sly. It won't do you any +good.--I know what you'll do, because we've all been through it. I +know the thing will keep coming on you at night. But remember that I +know. Remember. And remember that I want you to leave yourself alone. +I know what it is, I tell you. I've been through it all myself. You've +got to go through these years, before you find a woman you want to +marry, and whom you can marry. I went through them myself, and got +myself worked up a good deal more than was good for me.--Try to +contain yourself. Always try to contain yourself, and be a man. That's +the only thing. Always try and be manly, and quiet in yourself. +Remember I know what it is. I've been the same, in the same state that +you are in. And probably I've behaved more foolishly and perniciously +than ever you will. So come to me if anything _really_ bothers you. +And don't feel sly and secret. I do know just what you've got and what +you haven't. I've been as bad and perhaps worse than you. And the only +thing I want of you is to be manly. Try and be manly, and quiet in +yourself." + +That is about as much as a father can say to a boy, at puberty. You +have to be _very_ careful what you do: especially if you are a parent. +To translate sex into mental ideas is vile, to make a scientific fact +of it is death. + +As a matter of fact there should be some sort of initiation into true +adult consciousness. Boys should be taken away from their mothers and +sisters as much as possible at adolescence. They should be given into +some real manly charge. And there should be some actual initiation +into sex life. Perhaps like the savages, who make the boy die again, +symbolically, and pull him forth through some narrow aperture, to be +born again, and make him suffer and endure terrible hardships, to make +a great dynamic effect on the consciousness, a terrible dynamic sense +of change in the very being. In short, a long, violent initiation, +from which the lad emerges emaciated, but cut off forever from +childhood, entered into the serious, responsible pale of manhood. And +with his whole consciousness convulsed by a great change, as his +dynamic psyche actually is convulsed.--And something in the same way, +to initiate girls into womanhood. + +There should be the intense dynamic reaction: the physical suffering +and the physical realization sinking deep into the soul, changing the +soul for ever. Sex should come upon us as a terrible thing of +suffering and privilege and mystery: a mysterious metamorphosis come +upon us, and a new terrible power given us, and a new responsibility. +Telling?--What's the good of telling?--The mystery, the terror, and +the tremendous power of sex should never be explained away. The mass +of mankind should _never_ be acquainted with the scientific biological +facts of sex: _never_. The mystery must remain in its dark secrecy, +and its dark, powerful dynamism. The reality of sex lies in the great +dynamic convulsions in the soul. And as such it should be realized, a +great creative-convulsive seizure upon the soul.--To make it a matter +of test-tube mixtures, chemical demonstrations and trashy lock-and-key +symbols is just blasting. Even more sickening is the line: "You see, +dear, one day you'll love a man as I love Daddy, more than anything +else in the _whole_ world. And then, dear, I hope you'll marry him. +Because if you do you'll be happy, and I want you to be happy, my +love. And so I hope you'll marry the man you really love (kisses the +child).--And then, darling, there will come a lot of things you know +nothing about now. You'll want to have a dear little baby, won't you, +darling? Your own dear little baby. And your husband's as well. +Because it'll be his, too. You know that, don't you, dear? It will be +born from both of you. And you don't know how, do you? Well, it will +come from right inside you, dear, out of your own inside. You came +out of mother's inside, etc., etc." + +But I suppose there's really nothing else to be done, given the world +and society as we've got them now. The mother is doing her best. + +But it is all wrong. It is wrong to make sex appear as if it were part +of the dear-darling-love smarm: the spiritual love. It is even worse +to take the scientific test-tube line. It all kills the great +effective dynamism of life, and substitutes the mere ash of mental +ideas and tricks. + +The scientific fact of sex is no more sex than a skeleton is a man. +Yet you'd think twice before you stock a skeleton in front of a lad +and said, "You see, my boy, this is what you are when you come to know +yourself."--And the ideal, lovey-dovey "explanation" of sex as +something wonderful and extra lovey-dovey, a bill-and-coo process of +obtaining a sweet little baby--or else "God made us so that we must do +this, to bring another dear little baby to life"--well, it just makes +one sick. It is disastrous to the deep sexual life. But perhaps that +is what we want. + +When humanity comes to its senses it will realize what a fearful Sodom +apple our understanding is. What terrible mouths and stomachs full of +bitter ash we've all got. And then we shall take away "knowledge" and +"understanding," and lock them up along with the rest of poisons, to +be administered in small doses only by competent people. + +We have almost poisoned the mass of humanity to death with +_understanding_. The period of actual death and race-extermination is +not far off. We could have produced the same barrenness and frenzy of +nothingness in people, perhaps, by dinning it into them that every man +is just a charnel-house skeleton of unclean bones. Our "understanding," +our science and idealism have produced in people the same strange frenzy +of self-repulsion as if they saw their own skulls each time they looked +in the mirror. A man is a thing of scientific cause-and-effect and +biological process, draped in an ideal, is he? No wonder he sees the +skeleton grinning through the flesh. + +Our leaders have not loved men: they have loved ideas, and have been +willing to sacrifice passionate men on the altars of the +blood-drinking, ever-ash-thirsty ideal. Has President Wilson, or Karl +Marx, or Bernard Shaw ever felt one hot blood-pulse of love for the +working man, the half-conscious, deluded working man? Never. Each of +these leaders has wanted to abstract him away from his own blood and +being, into some foul Methuselah or abstraction of a man. + +And me? There is no danger of the working man ever reading my books, +so I shan't hurt him that way. But oh, I would like to save him alive, +in his living, spontaneous, original being. I can't help it. It is my +passionate instinct. + +I would like him to give me back the responsibility for general +affairs, a responsibility which he can't acquit, and which saps his +life. I would like him to give me back the responsibility for the +future. I would like him to give me back the responsibility for +thought, for direction. I wish we could take hope and belief together. +I would undertake my share of the responsibility, if he gave me his +belief. + +I would like him to give me back books and newspapers and theories. +And I would like to give him back, in return, his old insouciance, and +rich, original spontaneity and fullness of life. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +PARENT LOVE + + +In the serious hour of puberty, the individual passes into his second +phase of accomplishment. But there cannot be a perfect transition +unless all the activity is in full play in all the first four poles of +the psyche. Childhood is a chrysalis from which each must extricate +himself. And the struggling youth or maid cannot emerge unless by the +energy of all powers; he can never emerge if the whole mass of the +world and the tradition of love hold him back. + +Now we come to the greater peril of our particular form of idealism. +It is the idealism of love and of the spirit: the idealism of +yearning, outgoing love, of pure sympathetic communion and +"understanding." And this idealism recognizes as the highest earthly +love, the love of mother and child. + +And what does this mean? It means, for every delicately brought up +child, indeed for all the children who matter, a steady and +persistent pressure upon the upper sympathetic centers, and a steady +and persistent starving of the lower centers, particularly the great +voluntary center of the lower body. The center of sensual, manly +independence, of exultation in the sturdy, defiant self, willfulness +and masterfulness and pride, this center is steadily suppressed. The +warm, swift, sensual self is steadily and persistently denied, damped, +weakened, throughout all the period of childhood. And by sensual we do +not mean greedy or ugly, we mean the deeper, more impulsive reckless +nature. Life must be always refined and superior. Love and happiness +must be the watchword. The willful, critical element of the spiritual +mode is never absent, the silent, if forbearing disapproval and +distaste is always ready. Vile bullying forbearance. + +With what result? The center of upper sympathy is abnormally, inflamedly +excited; and the centers of will are so deranged that they operate in +jerks and spasms. The true polarity of the sympathetic-voluntary system +within the child is so disturbed as to be almost deranged. Then we have +an exaggerated sensitiveness alternating with a sort of helpless fury: +and we have delicate frail children with nerves or with strange whims. +And we have the strange cold obstinacy of the spiritual will, cold as +hell, fixed in a child. + +Then one parent, usually the mother, is the object of blind devotion, +whilst the other parent, usually the father, is an object of +resistance. The child is taught, however, that both parents should be +loved, and only loved: and that love, gentleness, pity, charity, and +all "higher" emotions, these alone are genuine feelings, all the rest +are false, to be rejected. + +With what result? The upper centers are developed to a degree of +unnatural acuteness and reaction--or again they fall numbed and +barren. And then between parents and children a painfully false +relation grows up: a relation as of two adults, either of two pure +lovers, or of two love-appearing people who are really trying to bully +one another. Instead of leaving the child with its own limited but +deep and incomprehensible feelings, the parent, hopelessly involved in +the sympathetic mode of selfless love, and spiritual love-will, +stimulates the child into a consciousness which does not belong to it, +on the one plane, and robs it of its own spontaneous consciousness and +freedom on the other plane. + +And this is the fatality. Long before puberty, by an exaggeration and +an intensity of spiritual love from the parents, the second centers +of sympathy are artificially aroused into response. And there is an +irreparable disaster. Instead of seeing as a child should see, through +a glass, darkly, the child now opens premature eyes of sympathetic +cognition. Instead of knowing in part, as it should know, it begins, +at a fearfully small age, to know in full. The cervical plexuses and +the cervical ganglia, which should only begin to awake after +adolescence, these centers of the higher dynamic sympathy and +cognition, are both artificially stimulated, by the adult personal +love-emotion and love-will into response, in a quite young child, +sometimes even in an infant. This is a holy obscenity. + +Our particular mode of idealism causes us to suppress as far as +possible the sensual centers, to make them negative. The whole of the +activity is concentrated, as far as possible, in the upper or +spiritual centers, the centers of the breast and throat, which we will +call the centers of dynamic cognition, in contrast to the centers of +sensual comprehension below the diaphragm. + +And then a child arrives at puberty, with its upper nature already +roused into precocious action. The child nowadays is almost invariably +precocious in "understanding." In the north, spiritually precocious, +so that by the time it arrives at adolescence it already has +experienced the extended sympathetic reactions which should have lain +utterly dark. And it has experienced these extended reactions with +whom? With the parent or parents. + +Which is man devouring his own offspring. For to the parents belongs, +once and for all, the dynamic reaction on the first plane of +consciousness only, the reaction and relationship at the first four +poles of dynamic consciousness. When the second, the farther plane of +consciousness rouses into action, the relationship is with strangers. +All human instinct and all ethnology will prove this to us. What +sex-instinct there is in a child is always _adverse_ to the parents. + +But also, the parents are all too quick. They all proceed to swallow +their children before the children can get out of their clutches. And +even if parents do send away their children at the age of puberty--to +school or elsewhere--it is not much good. The mischief has been done +before. For the first twelve years the parents and the whole community +forcibly insist on the child's living from the upper centers only, and +particularly the upper sympathetic centers, without the balance of the +warm, deep sensual self. Parents and community alike insist on +rousing an adult sympathetic response, and a mental answer in the +child-schools, Sunday-schools, books, home-influence--all works in +this one pernicious way. But it is the home, the parents, that work +most effectively and intensely. There is the most intimate mesh of +love, love-bullying, and "understanding" in which a child is +entangled. + +So that a child arrives at the age of puberty already stripped of its +childhood's darkness, bound, and delivered over. Instead of waking now +to a whole new field of consciousness, a whole vast and wonderful new +dynamic impulse towards new connections, it finds itself fatally +bound. Puberty accomplishes itself. The hour of sex strikes. But there +is your child, bound, helpless. You have already aroused in it the +dynamic response to your own insatiable love-will. You have already +established between your child and yourself the dynamic relation in +the further plane of consciousness. You have got your child as sure as +if you had woven its flesh again with your own. You have done what it +is vicious for any parent to do: you have established between your +child and yourself the bond of adult love: the love of man for man, +woman for woman, or man for woman. All your tenderness, your +cherishing will not excuse you. It only deepens your guilt. You have +established between your child and yourself the bond of further +sympathy. I do not speak of sex. I speak of pure sympathy, sacred +love. The parents establish between themselves and their child the +bond of the higher love, the further spiritual love, the sympathy of +the adult soul. + +And this is fatal. It is a sort of incest. It is a dynamic _spiritual_ +incest, more dangerous than sensual incest, because it is more +intangible and less instinctively repugnant. But let psychoanalysis +fall into what discredit it may, it has done us this great service of +proving to us that the intense upper sympathy, indeed the dynamic +relation either of love-will or love-sympathy, between parent and +child, upon the upper plane, inevitably involves us in a conclusion of +incest. + +For although it is our aim to establish a purely spiritual dynamic +relation on the upper plane only, yet, because of the inevitable +polarity of the human psychic system, we shall arouse at the same time +a dynamic sensual activity on the lower plane, the deeper sensual +plane. We may be as pure as angels, and yet, being human, this will +and must inevitably happen. When Mrs. Ruskin said that John Ruskin +should have married his mother she spoke the truth. He _was_ married +to his mother. For in spite of all our intention, all our creed, all +our purity, all our desire and all our will, once we arouse the +dynamic relation in the upper, higher plane of love, we inevitably +evoke a dynamic consciousness on the lower, deeper plane of sensual +love. And then what? + +Of course, parents can reply that their love, however intense, is +pure, and has absolutely no sensual element. Maybe--and maybe not. But +admit that it is so. It does not help. The intense excitement of the +upper centers of sympathy willy-nilly arouses the lower centers. It +arouses them to activity, even if it denies them any expression or any +polarized connection. Our psyche is so framed that activity aroused on +one plane provokes activity on the corresponding plane, automatically. +So the intense _pure_ love-relation between parent and child +inevitably arouses the lower centers in the child, the centers of sex. +Now the deeper sensual centers, once aroused, should find response +from the sensual body of some other, some friend or lover. The +response is impossible between parent and child. Myself, I believe +that biologically there is radical sex-aversion between parent and +child, at the deeper sensual centers. The sensual circuit _cannot_ +adjust itself spontaneously between the two. + +So what have you? Child and parent intensely linked in adult +love-sympathy and love-will, on the upper plane, and in the child, the +deeper sensual centers aroused, but finding no correspondent, no +objective, no polarized connection with another person. There they +are, the powerful centers of sex, acting spasmodically, without +balance. They must be polarized somehow. So they are polarized to the +active upper centers within the child, and you get an introvert. + +This is how introversion begins. The lower sexual centers are aroused. +They find no sympathy, no connection, no response from outside, no +expression. They are dynamically polarized by the upper centers within +the individual. That is, the whole of the sexual or deeper sensual +flow goes on upwards in the individual, to his own upper, from his own +lower centers. The upper centers hold the lower in positive polarity. +The flow goes on upwards. There _must_ be some reaction. And so you +get, first and foremost, self-consciousness, an intense consciousness +in the upper self of the lower self. This is the first disaster. Then +you get the upper body exploiting the lower body. You get the hands +exploiting the sensual body, in feeling, fingering, and in +masturbation. You get a pornographic longing with regard to the self. +You get the obscene post cards which most youths possess. You get the +absolute lust for dirty stories, which so many men have. And you get +various mild sex perversions, such as masturbation, and so on. + +What does all this mean? It means that the activity of the lower +psyche and lower body is polarized by the upper body. Eyes and ears +want to gather sexual activity and knowledge. The mind becomes full of +sex: and always, in an introvert, of his _own_ sex. If we examine the +apparent extroverts, like the flaunting Italian, we shall see the same +thing. It is his own sex which obsesses him. + +And to-day what have we but this? Almost inevitably we find in a child +now an intense, precocious, secret sexual preoccupation. The upper +self is rabidly engaged in exploiting the lower self. A child and its +own roused, inflamed sex, its own shame and masturbation, its own +cruel, secret sexual excitement and sex _curiosity_, this is the +greatest tragedy of our day. The child does not so much want to _act_ +as to _know_. The thought of actual sex connection is usually +repulsive. There is an aversion from the normal coition act. But the +craving to feel, to see, to taste, to _know_, mentally in the head, +this is insatiable. Anything, so that the sensation and experience +shall come through the _upper_ channels. This is the secret of our +introversion and our perversion to-day. Anything rather than +spontaneous direct action from the sensual self. Anything rather than +the merely normal passion. Introduce any trick, any idea, any mental +element you can into sex, but make it an affair of the upper +consciousness, the mind and eyes and mouth and fingers. This is our +vice, our dirt, our disease. + +And the adult, and the ideal are to blame. But the tragedy of our +children, in their inflamed, solitary sexual excitement, distresses us +beyond any blame. + +It is time to drop the word love, and more than time to drop the ideal +of love. Every frenzied individual is told to find fulfillment in +love. So he tries. Whereas, there is no fulfillment in love. Half of +our fulfillment comes _through_ love, through strong, sensual love. +But the central fulfillment, for a man, is that he possess his own +soul in strength within him, deep and alone. The deep, rich aloneness, +reached and perfected through love. And the passing beyond any further +_quest_ of love. + +This central fullness of self-possession is our goal, if goal there be +any. But there are two great _ways_ of fulfillment. The first, the way +of fulfillment through complete love, complete, passionate, deep love. +And the second, the greater, the fulfillment through the +accomplishment of religious purpose, the soul's earnest purpose. We +work the love way falsely, from the upper self, and work it to death. +The second way, of active unison in strong purpose, and in faith, this +we only sneer at. + +But to return to the child and the parent. The coming to the +fulfillment of single aloneness, through love, is made impossible for +us by the ideal, the monomania of more love. At the very _âge +dangereuse_, when a woman should be accomplishing her own fulfillment +into maturity and rich quiescence, she turns rabidly to seek a new +lover. At the very crucial time when she should be coming to a state +of pure equilibrium and rest with her husband, she turns rabidly +against rest or peace or equilibrium or husband in any shape or form, +and demands more love, more love, a new sort of lover, one who will +"understand" her. And as often as not she turns to her son. + +It is true, a woman reaches her goal of fulfillment through feeling. +But through being "understood" she reaches nowhere, unless the lover +understands what a vice it is for a woman to get herself and her sex +into her head. A woman reaches her fulfillment through love, deep +sensual love, and exquisite sensitive communion. But once she reaches +the point of fulfillment, she should not break off to ask for more +excitements. She should take the beauty of maturity and peace and +quiet faithfulness upon her. + +This she won't do, however, unless the man, her husband, goes on +beyond her. When a man approaches the beginning of maturity and the +fulfillment of his individual self, about the age of thirty-five, then +is not his time to come to rest. On the contrary. Deeply fulfilled +through marriage, and at one with his own soul, he must now undertake +the responsibility for the next step into the future. He must now give +himself perfectly to some further purpose, some passionate purposive +activity. Till a man makes the great resolution of aloneness and +singleness of being, till he takes upon himself the silence and +central appeasedness of maturity; and _then, after this_, assumes a +sacred responsibility for the next purposive step into the future, +there is no rest. The great resolution of aloneness and appeasedness, +and the further deep assumption of responsibility in purpose--this is +necessary to every parent, every father, every husband, at a certain +point. If the resolution is never made, the responsibility never +embraced, then the love-craving will run on into frenzy, and lay waste +to the family. In the woman particularly the love-craving will run on +to frenzy and disaster. + +Seeking, seeking the fulfillment in the deep passional self; diseased +with self-consciousness and sex in the head, foiled by the very loving +weakness of the husband who has not the courage to withdraw into his +own stillness and singleness, and put the wife under the spell of his +fulfilled decision; the unhappy woman beats about for her insatiable +satisfaction, seeking whom she may devour. And usually, she turns to +her child. Here she provokes what she wants. Here, in her own son who +belongs to her, she seems to find the last perfect response for which +she is craving. He is a medium to her, she provokes from him her own +answer. So she throws herself into a last great love for her son, a +final and fatal devotion, that which would have been the richness and +strength of her husband and is poison to her boy. The husband, +irresolute, never accepting his own higher responsibility, bows and +accepts. And the fatal round of introversion and "complex" starts once +more. If man will never accept his own ultimate being, his final +aloneness, and his last responsibility for life, then he must expect +woman to dash from disaster to disaster, rootless and uncontrolled. + +"_On revient toujours à son premier amour._" It sounds like a cynicism +to-day. As if we really meant: "_On ne revient jamais à son premier +amour._" But as a matter of fact, a man never leaves his first love, +once the love is established. He may leave his first attempt at love. +Once a man establishes a full dynamic communication at the deeper and +the higher centers, with a woman, this can never be broken. But sex in +the head breaks down, and half circuits break down. Once the full +circuit is established, however, this can never break down. + +Nowadays, alas, we start off self-conscious, with sex in the head. We +find a woman who is the same. We marry because we are "pals." The sex +is a rather nasty fiasco. We keep up a pretense of "pals"--and nice +love. Sex spins wilder in the head than ever. There is either a +family of children whom the dissatisfied parents can devote themselves +to, thereby perverting the miserable little creatures: or else there +is a divorce. And at the great dynamic centers nothing has happened at +all. Blank nothing. There has been no vital interchange at all in the +whole of this beautiful marriage affair. + +Establish between yourself and another individual a dynamic connection +at only _two_ of the four further poles, and you will have the devil +of a job to break the connection. Especially if it be the first +connection you have made. Especially if the other individual be the +first in the field. + +This is the case of the parents. Parents are first in the field of the +child's further consciousness. They are criminal trespassers in that +field. But that makes no matter. They are first in the field. They +establish a dynamic connection between the two upper centers, the +centers of the throat, the centers of the higher dynamic sympathy and +cognition. They establish this circuit. And break it if you can. Very +often not even death can break it. + +And as we see, the establishment of the upper love-and-cognition +circuit inevitably provokes the lower sex-sensual centers into action, +even though there be no correspondence on the sensual plane between +the two individuals concerned. Then see what happens. If you want to +see the real desirable wife-spirit, look at a mother with her boy of +eighteen. How she serves him, how she stimulates him, how her true +female self is his, is wife-submissive to him as never, never it could +be to a husband. This is the quiescent, flowering love of a mature +woman. It is the very flower of a woman's love: sexually asking +nothing, asking nothing of the beloved, save that he shall be himself, +and that for his living he shall accept the gift of her love. This is +the perfect flower of married love, which a husband should put in his +cap as he goes forward into the future in his supreme activity. For +the husband, it is a great pledge, and a blossom. For the son also it +seems wonderful. The woman now feels for the first time as a true wife +might feel. And her feeling is towards her son. + +Or, instead of mother and son, read father and daughter. + +And then what? The son gets on swimmingly for a time, till he is faced +with the actual fact of sex necessity. He gleefully inherits his +adolescence and the world at large, without an obstacle in his way, +mother-supported, mother-loved. Everything comes to him in glamour, +he feels he sees wondrous much, understands a whole heaven, +mother-stimulated. Think of the power which a mature woman thus +infuses into her boy. He flares up like a flame in oxygen. No wonder +they say geniuses mostly have great mothers. They mostly have sad +fates. + +And then?--and then, with this glamorous youth? What is he actually to +do with his sensual, sexual self? Bury it? Or make an effort with a +stranger? For he is taught, even by his mother, that his manhood must +not forego sex. Yet he is linked up in ideal love already, the best he +will ever know. + +No woman will give to a stranger that which she gives to her son, her +father or her brother: that beautiful and glamorous submission which +is truly the wife-submission. To a stranger, a husband, a woman +insists on being queen, goddess, mistress, the positive, the adored, +the first and foremost and the one and only. This she will not ask +from her near blood-kin. Of her blood-kin, there is always one she +will love devotedly. + +And so, the charming young girl who adores her father, or one of her +brothers, is sought in marriage by the attractive young man who loves +his mother devotedly. And a pretty business the marriage is. We can't +think of it. Of course they may be good pals. It's the only thing +left. + +And there we are. The game is spoilt before it is begun. Within the +circle of the family, owing to our creed of insatiable love, intense +adult sympathies are provoked in quite young children. In Italy, the +Italian stimulates adult sex-consciousness and sex-sympathy in his +child, almost deliberately. But with us, it is usually spiritual +sympathy and spiritual criticism. The adult experiences are provoked, +the adult devotional sympathies are linked up, prematurely, as far as +the child is concerned. We have the heart-wringing spectacle of +intense parent-child love, a love intense as the love of man and +woman, but not sexual; or else the great brother-sister devotion. And +thus, the great love-experience which should lie in the future is +forestalled. Within the family, the love-bond forms quickly, without +the shocks and ruptures inevitable between strangers. And so, it is +easiest, intensest--and seems the best. It seems the highest. You will +not easily get a man to believe that his carnal love for the woman he +has made his wife is as high a love as that he felt for his mother or +sister. + +The cream is licked off from life before the boy or the girl is +twenty. Afterwards--repetition, disillusion, and barrenness. + +And the cause?--always the same. That parents will not make the great +resolution to come to rest within themselves, to possess their own +souls in quiet and fullness. The man has not the courage to withdraw +at last into his own soul's stillness and aloneness, and _then_, +passionately and faithfully, to strive for the living future. The +woman has not the courage to give up her hopeless insistence on love +and her endless demand for love, demand of being loved. She has not +the greatness of soul to relinquish her own self-assertion, and +believe in the man who believes in himself and in his own soul's +efforts:--if there _are_ any such men nowadays, which is very +doubtful. + +Alas, alas, the future! Your son, who has tasted the real beauty of +wife-response in his mother or sister. Your daughter, who adores her +brother, and who marries some woman's son. They are so charming to +look at, such a lovely couple. And at first it is all such a good +game, such good sport. Then each one begins to fret for the beauty of +the lost, non-sexual, partial relationship. The sexual part of +marriage has proved so--so empty. While that other loveliest +thing--the poignant touch of devotion felt for mother or father or +brother--why, this is missing altogether. The best is missing. The +rest isn't worth much. Ah well, such is life. Settle down to it, and +bring up the children carefully to more of the same.--The +future!--You've had all your good days by the time you're twenty. + +And, I ask you, what good will psychoanalysis do you in this state of +affairs? Introduce an extra sex-motive to excite you for a bit and +make you feel how thrillingly immoral things really are. And then--it +all goes flat again. Father complex, mother complex, incest dreams: +pah, when we've had the little excitement out of them we shall forget +them as we have forgotten so many other catch-words. And we shall be +just where we were before: unless we are worse, with _more_ sex in the +head, and more introversion, only more brazen. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE VICIOUS CIRCLE + + +Here is a very vicious circle. And how to get out of it? In the first +place, we have to break the love-ideal, once and for all. Love, as we +see, is not the only dynamic. Taking love in its greatest sense, and +making it embrace every form of sympathy, every flow from the great +sympathetic centers of the human body, still it is not the whole of +the dynamic flow, it is only the one-half. There is always the other +voluntary flow to reckon with, the intense motion of independence and +singleness of self, the pride of isolation, and the profound +fulfillment through power. + +The very first thing of all to be recognized is the danger of +idealism. It is the one besetting sin of the human race. It means the +fall into automatism, mechanism, and nullity. + +We know that life issues spontaneously at the great nodes of the +psyche, the great nerve-centers. At first these are four only: then, +after puberty, they become eight: later there may still be an +extension of the dynamic consciousness, a further polarization. But +eight is enough at the moment. + +First at four, and then at eight dynamic centers of the human body, +the human nervous system, life starts spontaneously into being. The +soul bursts day by day into fresh impulses, fresh desire, fresh +purpose, at these our polar centers. And from these dynamic generative +centers issue the vital currents which put us into connection with our +object. We have really no will and no choice, in the first place. It +is our soul which acts within us, day by day unfolding us according to +our own nature. + +From the objective circuits and from the subjective circuits which +establish and fulfill themselves at the first four centers of +consciousness we derive our first being, our child-being, and also our +first mind, our child-mind. By the objective circuits we mean those +circuits which are established between the self and some external +object: mother, father, sister, cat, dog, bird, or even tree or plant, +or even further still, some particular place, some particular +inanimate object, a knife or a chair or a cap or a doll or a wooden +horse. For we must insist that every object which really enters +effectively into our lives does so by direct connection. If I love my +mother, it is because there is established between me and her a +direct, powerful circuit of vital magnetism, call it what you will, +but a direct flow of dynamic _vital_ interchange and intercourse. I +will not call this vital flow a _force_, because it depends on the +incomprehensible initiative and control of the individual soul or +self. Force is that which is directed only from some universal will or +law. Life is _always_ individual, and therefore never controlled by +one law, one God. And therefore, since the living really sway the +universe, even if unknowingly; therefore there is no one universal +law, even for the physical forces. Because we insist that even the sun +depends, for its heartbeat, its respiration, its pivotal motion, on +the beating hearts of men and beast, on the dynamic of the +soul-impulse in individual creatures. It is from the aggregate +heartbeat of living individuals, of we know not how many or what sort +of worlds, that the sun rests stable. + +Which may be dismissed as metaphysics, although it is quite as valid +or even as demonstrable as Newton's Law of Gravitation, which law +still remains a law, even if not quite so absolute as heretofore. + +But this is a digression. The argument is, that between an individual +and any external object with which he has an affective connection, +there exists a definite vital flow, as definite and concrete as the +electric current whose polarized circuit sets our tram-cars running +and our lamps shining, or our Marconi wires vibrating. Whether this +object be human, or animal, or plant, or quite inanimate, there is +still a circuit. My dog, my canary has a polarized connection with me. +Nay, the very cells in the ash-tree I loved as a child had a dynamic +vibratory connection with the nuclei in my own centers of primary +consciousness. And further still, the boots I have worn are so +saturated with my own magnetism, my own vital activity, that if anyone +else wear them I feel it is a trespass, almost as if another man used +my hand to knock away a fly. I doubt very much if a blood-hound, when +it takes a scent, _smells_, in our sense of the word. It receives at +the infinitely sensitive telegraphic center of the dog's nostrils the +vital vibration which remains in the inanimate object from the +individual with whom the object was associated. I should like to know +if a dog would trace a pair of quite new shoes which had merely been +dragged at the end of a string. That is, does he follow the smell of +the leather itself, or the vibration track of the individual whose +vitality is communicated to the leather? + +So, there is a definite vibratory rapport between a man and his +surroundings, once he definitely gets into contact with these +surroundings. Any particular locality, any house which has been lived +in has a vibration, a transferred vitality of its own. This is either +sympathetic or antipathetic to the succeeding individual in varying +degree. But certain it is that the inhabitants who live at the foot of +Etna will always have a certain pitch of life-vibration, antagonistic +to the pitch of vibration even of a Palermitan, in some measure. And +old houses are saturated with human presence, at last to a degree of +indecency, unbearable. And tradition, in its most elemental sense, +means the continuing of the same peculiar pitch of vital vibration. + +Such is the objective dynamic flow between the psychic poles of the +individual and the substance of the external object, animate or +inanimate. The subjective dynamic flow is established between the four +primary poles within the individual. Every dynamic connection begins +from one or the other of the sympathetic centers: is, or should be, +almost immediately polarized from the corresponding voluntary center. +Then a complete flow is set up, in one plane. But this always rouses +the activity on the other, corresponding plane, more or less intense. +There is a whole field of consciousness established, with positive +polarity of the first plane, negative polarity of the second. Which +being so, a whole fourfold field of dynamic consciousness now working +within the individual, direct cognition takes place. The mind begins +to know, and to strive to know. + +The business of the mind is first and foremost the pure joy of knowing +and comprehending the pure joy of consciousness. The second business +is to act as medium, as interpreter, as agent between the individual +and his object. The mind should _not_ act as a director or controller +of the spontaneous centers. These the soul alone must control: the +soul being that forever unknowable reality which causes us to rise +into being. There is continual conflict between the soul, which is for +ever sending forth incalculable impulses, and the psyche, which is +conservative, and wishes to persist in its old motions, and the mind, +which wishes to have "freedom," that is spasmodic, idea-driven +control. Mind, and conservative psyche, and the incalculable soul, +these three are a trinity of powers in every human being. But there is +something even beyond these. It is the individual in his pure +singleness, in his totality of consciousness, in his oneness of being: +the Holy Ghost which is with us after our Pentecost, and which we may +not deny. When I say to myself: "I am wrong," knowing with sudden +insight that I _am_ wrong, then this is the whole self speaking, the +Holy Ghost. It is no piece of mental inference. It is not just the +soul sending forth a flash. It is my whole being speaking in one +voice, soul and mind and psyche transfigured into oneness. This voice +of my being I may _never_ deny. When at last, in all my storms, my +whole self speaks, then there is a pause. The soul collects itself +into pure silence and isolation--perhaps after much pain. The mind +suspends its knowledge, and waits. The psyche becomes strangely still. +And then, after the pause, there is fresh beginning, a new life +adjustment. Conscience is the being's consciousness, when the +individual is conscious _in toto_, when he knows in full. It is +something which includes and which far surpasses mental consciousness. +Every man must live as far as he can by his own soul's conscience. +But not according to any ideal. To submit the conscience to a creed, +or an idea, or a tradition, or even an impulse, is our ruin. + +To make the mind the absolute ruler is as good as making a Cook's +tourist-interpreter a king and a god, because he can speak several +languages, and make an Arab understand that an Englishman wants fish +for supper. And to make an ideal a ruling principle is about as stupid +as if a bunch of travelers should never cease giving each other and +their dragoman sixpence, because the dragoman's main idea of virtue is +the virtue of sixpence-giving. In the same way, we _know_ we cannot +live purely by impulse. Neither can we live solely by tradition. We +must live by all three, ideal, impulse, and tradition, each in its +hour. But the real guide is the pure conscience, the voice of the self +in its wholeness, the Holy Ghost. + +We have fallen now into the mistake of idealism. Man always falls into +one of the three mistakes. In China, it is tradition. And in the South +Seas, it seems to have been impulse. Ours is idealism. Each of the +three modes is a true life-mode. But any one, alone or dominant, +brings us to destruction. We must depend on the wholeness of our +being, ultimately only on that, which is our Holy Ghost within us. +Whereas, in an ideal of love and benevolence, we have tried to +automatize ourselves into little love-engines always stoked with the +sorrows or beauties of other people, so that we can get up steam of +charity or righteous wrath. A great trick is to pour on the fire the +oil of our indignation at somebody else's wickedness, and then, when +we've got up steam like hell, back the engine and run bish! smash! +against the belly of the offender. Because he said he didn't want to +love any more, we hate him for evermore, and try to run over him, +every bit of him, with our love-tanks. And all the time we yell at +him: "Will you deny love, you villain? Will you?" And by the time he +faintly squeaks, "I want to be loved! I want to be loved!" we have got +so used to running over him with our love-tanks that we don't feel in +a hurry to leave off. + + "_Sois mon frère, ou je te tue._" + "_Sois mon frère, ou je me tue._" + +There are the two parrot-threats of love, on which our loving +centuries have run as on a pair of railway-lines. Excuse me if I want +to get out of the train. Excuse me if I can't get up any love-steam +any more. My boilers are burst. + +We have made a mistake, laying down love like the permanent way of a +great emotional transport system. There we are, however, running on +wheels on the lines of our love. And of course we have only two +directions, forwards and backwards. "Onward, Christian soldiers, +towards the great terminus where bottles of sterilized milk for the +babies are delivered at the bedroom windows by noiseless aeroplanes +each morn, where the science of dentistry is so perfect that teeth are +planted in a man's mouth without his knowing it, where twilight sleep +is so delicious that every woman longs for her next confinement, and +where nobody ever has to do anything except turn a handle now and then +in a spirit of universal love--" That is the forward direction of the +English-speaking race. The Germans unwisely backed their engine. "We +have a city of light. But instead of lying ahead it lies direct behind +us. So reverse engines. Reverse engines, and away, away to our city, +where the sterilized milk is delivered by noiseless aeroplanes, _at +the very precise minute when our great doctors of the Fatherland have +diagnosed that it is good for you_: where the teeth are not only so +painlessly planted that they grow like living rock, but where their +composition is such that the friction of eating stimulates the cells +of the jaw-bone and develops the _superman strength of will which +makes us gods_: and where not only is twilight sleep serene, but into +the sleeper are inculcated the most useful and instructive dreams, +calculated to perfect the character of the young citizen at this +crucial period, and to enlighten permanently the mind of the happy +mother, with regard to her new duties towards her child and towards +our great Fatherland--" + +Here you see we are, on the railway, with New Jerusalem ahead, and New +Jerusalem away behind us. But of course it was very wrong of the +Germans to reverse their engines, and cause one long collision all +along the line. Why should we go _their_ way to the New Jerusalem, +when of course they might so easily have kept on going our way. And +now there's wreckage all along the line! But clear the way is our +motto--or make the Germans clear it. Because get on we will. + +Meanwhile we sit rather in the cold, waiting for the train to get a +start. People keep on signaling with green lights and red lights. And +it's all very bewildering. + +As for me, I'm off. I'm damned if I'll be shunted along any more. And +I'm thrice damned if I'll go another yard towards that sterilized New +Jerusalem, either forwards or backwards. New Jerusalem may rot, if it +waits for me. I'm not going. + +So good-by! There we leave humanity, encamped in an appalling mess +beside the railway-smash of love, sitting down, however, and having +not a bad time, some of 'em, feeding themselves fat on the plunder: +others, further down the line, with mouths green from eating grass. +But all grossly, stupidly, automatically gabbling about getting the +love-service running again, the trains booked for the New Jerusalem +well on the way once more. And occasionally a good engine gives a +screech of love, and something seems to be about to happen. And +sometimes there is enough steam to set the indignation-whistles +whistling. But never any more will there be enough love-steam to get +the system properly running. It is done. + +Good-by, then! You may have laid your line from one end to the other +of the infinite. But still there's plenty of hinterland. I'll go. +Good-by. Ach, it will be so nice to be alone: not to hear you, not to +see you, not to smell you, humanity. I wish you no ill, but wisdom. +Good-by! + +To be alone with one's own soul. Not to be alone without my own soul, +mind you. But to be alone with one's own soul! This, and the joy of +it, is the real goal of love. My own soul, and myself. Not my ego, my +conceit of myself. But my very soul. To be at one in my own self. Not +to be questing any more. Not to be yearning, seeking, hoping, +desiring, aspiring. But to pause, and be alone. + +And to have one's own "gentle spouse" by one's side, of course, to dig +one in the ribs occasionally. Because really, being alone in peace +means being two people together. Two people who can be silent +together, and not conscious of one another outwardly. Me in my +silence, she in hers, and the balance, the equilibrium, the pure +circuit between us. With occasional lapses of course: digs in the ribs +if one gets too vague or self-sufficient. + +They say it is better to travel than to arrive. It's not been my +experience, at least. The journey of love has been rather a +lacerating, if well-worth-it, journey. But to come at last to a nice +place under the trees, with your "amiable spouse" who has at last +learned to hold her tongue and not to bother about rights and wrongs: +her own particularly. And then to pitch a camp, and cook your rabbit, +and eat him: and to possess your own soul in silence, and to feel all +the clamor lapse. That is the best I know. + +I think it is terrible to be young. The ecstasies and agonies of love, +the agonies and ecstasies of fear and doubt and drop-by-drop +fulfillment, realization. The awful process of human relationships, +love and marital relationships especially. Because we all make a very, +very bad start to-day, with our idea of love in our head, and our sex +in our head as well. All the fight till one is bled of one's +self-consciousness and sex-in-the-head. All the bitterness of the +conflict with this devil of an amiable spouse, who has got herself so +stuck in her own head. It is terrible to be young.--But one fights +one's way through it, till one is cleaned: the self-consciousness and +sex-idea burned out of one, cauterized out bit by bit, and the self +whole again, and at last free. + +The best thing I have known is the stillness of accomplished marriage, +when one possesses one's own soul in silence, side by side with the +amiable spouse, and has left off craving and raving and being only +half one's self. But I must say, I know a great deal more about the +craving and raving and sore ribs, than about the accomplishment. And I +must confess that I feel this self-same "accomplishment" of the +fulfilled being is only a preparation for new responsibilities ahead, +new unison in effort and conflict, the effort to make, with other men, +a little new way into the future, and to break through the hedge of +the many. + +But--to your tents, my Israel. And to that precious baby you've left +slumbering there. What I meant to say was, in each phase of life you +have a great circuit of human relationship to establish and fulfill. +In childhood, it is the circuit of family love, established at the +first four consciousness centers, and gradually fulfilling itself, +completing itself. At adolescence, the first circuit of family love +should be completed, dynamically finished. And then, it falls into +quiescence. After puberty, family love should fall quiescent in a +child. The love never breaks. It continues static and basic, the basis +of the emotional psyche, the foundation of the self. It is like the +moon when the moon at last subsides into her eternal orbit, round the +earth. She travels in her orbit so inevitably that she forgets, and +becomes unaware. She only knits her brows over the earth's greater +aberrations in space. + +The circuit of parental love, once fulfilled, is not done away with, +but only established into silence. The child is then free to establish +the new connections, in which he surpasses his parents. And let us +repeat, parents should never try to establish adult relations, of +sympathy or interest or anything else, between themselves and their +children. The attempt to do so only deranges the deep primary circuit +which is the dynamic basis of our living. It is a clambering upwards +only by means of a broken foundation. Parents should remain parents, +children children, for ever, and the great gulf preserved between the +two. Honor thy father and thy mother should always be a leading +commandment. But this can only take place when father and mother keep +their true parental distances, dignity, reserve, and limitation. As +soon as father and mother try to become the _friends_ and _companions_ +of their children, they break the root of life, they rupture the +deepest dynamic circuit of living, they derange the whole flow of life +for themselves and their children. + +For let us reiterate and reiterate: you cannot mingle and confuse the +various modes of dynamic love. If you try, you produce horrors. You +cannot plant the heart below the diaphragm or put an ocular eye in the +navel. No more can you transfer parent love into friend love or adult +love. Parent love is established at the great primary centers, where +man is father and child, playmate and brother, but where he _cannot_ +be comrade or lover. Comrade and lover, this is the dynamic activity +of the further centers, the second four centers. And these second four +centers must be active in the parent, their intense circuit +established even if not fulfilled, long before the child is born. The +circuit of friendship, of personal companionship, of sexual love must +needs be established before the child is begotten, or at least before +it attains to adolescence. These circuits of the extended field are +already fully established in the parent before the centers of +correspondence in the child are even formed. When therefore the four +great centers of the extended consciousness arouses in a child, at +adolescence, they must needs seek a strange complement, a foreign +conjunction. + +Not only is this the case, but the actual dynamic impulse of the new +life which rouses at puberty is _alien_ to the original dynamic flow. +The new wave-length by no means corresponds. The new vibration by no +means harmonizes. Force the two together, and you cause a terrible +frictional excitement and jarring. It is this instinctive recognition +of the different dynamic vibrations from different centers, in +different modes, and in different directions of positive and negative, +which lies at the base of savage taboo. After puberty, members of one +family should be taboo to one another. There should be the most +definite limits to the degree of contact. And mothers-in-law should be +taboo to their daughters' husbands, and fathers-in-law to their sons' +wives. We must again begin to learn the great laws of the first +dynamic life-circuits. These laws we now make havoc of, and +consequently we make havoc of our own soul, psyche, mind and health. + +This book is written primarily concerning the child's consciousness. +It is not intended to enter the field of the post-puberty +consciousness. But yet, the dynamic relation of the child is +established so directly with the physical and psychical soul of the +parent, that to get any inkling of dynamic child-consciousness we must +understand something of parent-consciousness. + +We assert that the parent-child love-mode excludes the possibility of +the man-and-woman, or friend-and-friend love mode. We assert that the +polarity of the first four poles is inconsistent with the polarity of +the second four poles. Nay, between the two great fields is a certain +dynamic opposition, resistance, even antipathy. So that in the natural +course of life there is no possibility of confusing parent love and +adult love. + +But we are mental creatures, and with the explosive and mechanistic +aid of ideas we can pervert the whole psyche. Only, however, in a +destructive degree, not in a positive or constructive. + +Let us return then. In the ordinary course of development, by the time +that the child is born and grown to puberty the whole dynamic soul of +the mother is engaged: first, with the children, and second, on the +further, higher plane, with the husband, and with her own friends. So +that when the child reaches adolescence it must inevitably cast abroad +for connection. + +But now let us remember the actual state of affairs to-day, when the +poles are reversed between the sexes. The woman is now the responsible +party, the law-giver, the culture-bearer. She is the conscious guide +and director of the man. She bears his soul between her two hands. And +her sex is just a function or an instrument of power. This being so, +the man is really the servant and the fount of emotion, love and +otherwise. + +Which is all very well, while the fun lasts. But like all perverted +processes, it is exhaustive, and like the fun wears out. Leaving an +exhaustion, and an irritation. Each looks on the other as a perverter +of life. Almost invariably a married woman, as she passes the age of +thirty, conceives a dislike, or a contempt of her husband, or a pity +which is too near contempt. Particularly if he be a good husband, a +true modern. And he, for his part, though just as jarred inside +himself, resents only the fact that he is not loved as he ought to be. + +Then starts a new game. The woman, even the most virtuous, looks +abroad for new sympathy. She will have a new man-friend, if nothing +more. But as a rule she has got something more. She has got her +children. + +A relation between mother and child to-day is practically _never_ +parental. It is personal--which means, it is critical and deliberate, +and adult in provocation. The mother, in her new rôle of idealist and +life-manager never, practically for one single moment, gives her child +the unthinking response from the deep dynamic centers. No, she gives +it what is good for it. She shoves milk in its mouth as the clock +strikes, she shoves it to sleep when the milk is swallowed, and she +shoves it ideally through baths and massage, promenades and practice, +till the little organism develops like a mushroom to stand on its own +feet. Then she continues her ideal shoving of it through all the +stages of an ideal up-bringing, she loves it as a chemist loves his +test-tubes in which he analyzes his salts. The poor little object is +his mother's ideal. But of her head she dictates his providential +days, and by the force of her deliberate mentally-directed love-will +she pushes him up into boyhood. The poor little devil never knows one +moment when he is not encompassed by the beautiful, benevolent, +idealistic, Botticelli-pure, and finally obscene love-will of the +mother. Never, never one mouthful does he drink of the milk of human +kindness: always the sterilized milk of human benevolence. There is no +mother's milk to-day, save in tigers' udders, and in the udders of +sea-whales. Our children drink a decoction of ideal love, at the +breast. + +Never for one moment, poor baby, the deep warm stream of love from the +mother's bowels to his bowels. Never for one moment the dark proud +recoil into rest, the soul's separation into deep, rich independence. +Never this lovely rich forgetfulness, as a cat trots off and utterly +forgets her kittens, utterly, richly forgets them, till suddenly, +click, the dynamic circuit reverses itself in her, and she remembers, +and rages round in a frenzy, shouting for her young. + +Our miserable infants never know this joy and richness and pang of real +maternal warmth. Our wonderful mothers never let us out of their minds +for one single moment. Not for a second do they allow us to escape from +their ideal benevolence. Not one single breath does a baby draw, free +from the imposition of the pure, unselfish, Botticelli-holy, detestable +_love-will_ of the mother. Always the _will_, the will, the love-will, +the ideal will, directed from the ideal mind. Always this stone, this +scorpion of maternal nourishment. Always this infernal self-conscious +Madonna starving our living guts and bullying us to death with her love. + +We have made the idea supplant both impulse and tradition. We have no +spark of wholeness. And we live by an evil love-will. Alas, the great +spontaneous mode is abrogated. There is no lovely great flux of vital +sympathy, no rich rejoicing of pride into isolation and independence. +There is no reverence for great traditions of parenthood. No, there is +substitute for everything--life-substitute--just as we have +butter-substitute, and meat-substitute, and sugar-substitute, and +leather-substitute, and silk-substitute, so we have life-substitute. +We have beastly benevolence, and foul good-will, and stinking charity, +and poisonous ideals. + +The poor modern brat, shoved horribly into life by an effort of will, +and shoved up towards manhood by every appliance that can be applied +to it, especially the appliance of the maternal will, it is really too +pathetic to contemplate. The only thing that prevents us wringing our +hands is the remembrance that the little devil will grow up and beget +other similar little devils of his own, to invent more aeroplanes and +hospitals and germ-killers and food-substitutes and poison gases. The +problem of the future is a question of the strongest poison-gas. Which +is certainly a very sure way out of our vicious circle. + +There is no way out of a vicious circle, of course, except breaking +the circle. And since the mother-child relationship is to-day the +viciousest of circles, what are we to do? Just wait for the results of +the poison-gas competition presumably. + +Oh, ideal humanity, how detestable and despicable you are! And how you +deserve your own poison-gases! How you deserve to perish in your own +stink. + +It is no use contemplating the development of the modern child, born +out of the mental-conscious love-will, born to be another unit of +self-conscious love-will: an ideal-born beastly little entity with a +devil's own will of its own, benevolent, of course, and a Satan's own +seraphic self-consciousness, like a beastly Botticelli brat. + +Once we really consider this modern process of life and the love-will, +we could throw the pen away, and spit, and say three cheers for the +inventors of poison-gas. Is there not an American who is supposed to +have invented a breath of heaven whereby, drop one pop-cornful in +Hampstead, one in Brixton, one in East Ham, and one in Islington, and +London is a Pompeii in five minutes! Or was the American only +bragging? Because anyhow, whom has he experimented on? I read it in +the newspaper, though. London a Pompeii in five minutes. Makes the +gods look silly! + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +LITANY OF EXHORTATIONS + + +I thought I'd better turn over a new leaf, and start a new chapter. +The intention of the last chapter was to find a way out of the vicious +circle. And it ended in poison-gas. + +Yes, dear reader, so it did. But you've not silenced me yet, for all +that. + +We're in a nasty mess. We're in a vicious circle. And we're making a +careful study of poison-gases. The secret of Greek fire was lost long +ago, when the world left off being wonderful and ideal. Now it is +wonderful and ideal again, much wonderfuller and _much_ more ideal. So +we ought to do something rare in the way of poison-gas. London a +Pompeii in five minutes! How to outdo Vesuvius!--title of a new book +by American authors. + +There is only one single other thing to do. And it's more difficult +than poison-gas. It is to leave off loving. It is to leave off +benevolenting and having a good will. It is to cease utterly. Just +leave off. Oh, parents, see that your children get their dinners and +clean sheets, but don't love them. Don't love them one single grain, +and don't let anybody else love them. Give them their dinners and +leave them alone. You've already loved them to perdition. Now leave +them alone, to find their own way out. + +Wives, don't love your husbands any more: even if they cry for it, the +great babies! Sing: "I've had enough of that old sauce." And leave off +loving them or caring for them one single bit. Don't even hate them or +dislike them. Don't have any stew with them at all. Just boil the eggs +and fill the salt-cellars and be quite nice, and in your own soul, be +alone and be still. Be alone, and be still, preserving all the human +decencies, and abandoning the indecency of desires and benevolencies +and devotions, those beastly poison-gas apples of the Sodom vine of +the love-will. + +Wives, don't love your husbands nor your children nor anybody. Sit +still, and say Hush! And while you shake the duster out of the +drawing-room window, say to yourself--"In the sweetness of solitude." +And when your husband comes in and says he's afraid he's got a cold +and is going to have double pneumonia, say quietly "surely not." And +if he wants the ammoniated quinine, give it him if he can't get it for +himself. But don't let him drive you out of your solitude, your +singleness within yourself. And if your little boy falls down the +steps and makes his mouth bleed, nurse and comfort him, but say to +yourself, even while you tremble with the shock: "Alone. Alone. Be +alone, my soul." And if the servant smashes three electric-light bulbs +in three minutes, say to her: "How very inconsiderate and careless of +you!" But say to yourself: "Don't hear it, my soul. Don't take fright +at the pop of a light-bulb." + +Husbands, don't love your wives any more. If they flirt with men +younger or older than yourselves, let your blood not stir. If you can +go away, go away. But if you must stay and see her, then say to her, +"I would rather you didn't flirt in my presence, Eleanora." Then, when +she goes red and loosens torrents of indignation, don't answer any +more. And when she floods into tears, say quietly in your own self, +"My soul is my own"; and go away, be alone as much as possible. And +when she works herself up, and says she must have love or she will +die, then say: "Not my love, however." And to all her threats, her +tears, her entreaties, her reproaches, her cajolements, her +winsomenesses, answer nothing, but say to yourself: "Shall I be +implicated in this display of the love-will? Shall I be blasted by +this false lightning?" And though you tremble in every fiber, and feel +sick, vomit-sick with the scene, still contain yourself, and say, "My +soul is my own. It shall not be violated." And learn, learn, learn the +one and only lesson worth learning at last. Learn to walk in the +sweetness of the possession of your own soul. And whether your wife +weeps as she takes off her amber beads at night, or whether your +neighbor in the train sits in your coat bottoms, or whether your +superior in the office makes supercilious remarks, or your inferior is +familiar and impudent; or whether you read in the newspaper that Lloyd +George is performing another iniquity, or the Germans plotting another +plot, say to yourself: "My soul is my own. My soul is with myself, and +beyond implication." And wait, quietly, in possession of your own +soul, till you meet another man who has made the choice, and kept it. +Then you will know him by the look on his face: half a dangerous look, +a look of Cain, and half a look of gathered beauty. Then you two will +make the nucleus of a new society--Ooray! Bis! Bis!! + +But if you should never meet such a man: and if your wife should +torture you every day with her love-will: and even if she should force +herself into a consumption, like Catherine Linton in "Wuthering +Heights," owing to her obstinate and determined love-will (which is +quite another matter than love): and if you see the world inventing +poison-gas and falling into its poisoned grave: never give in, but be +alone, and utterly alone with your own soul, in the stillness and +sweet possession of your own soul. And don't even be angry. And +_never_ be sad. Why should you? It's not your affair. + +But if your wife should accomplish for herself the sweetness of her +own soul's possession, then gently, delicately let the new mode assert +itself, the new mode of relation between you, with something of +spontaneous paradise in it, the apple of knowledge at last digested. +But, my word, what belly-aches meanwhile. That apple is harder to +digest than a lead gun-cartridge. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +COSMOLOGICAL + + +Well, dear reader, Chapter XII was short, and I hope you found it +sweet. + +But remember, this is an essay on Child Consciousness, not a tract on +Salvation. It isn't my fault that I am led at moments into +exhortation. + +Well, then, what about it? One fact now seems very clear--at any rate +to me. We've got to pause. We haven't got to gird our loins with a new +frenzy and our larynxes with a new Glory Song. Not a bit of it. Before +you dash off to put salt on the tail of a new religion or of a new +Leader of Men, dear reader, sit down quietly and pull yourself +together. Say to yourself: "Come now, what is it all about?" And +you'll realize, dear reader, that you're all in a fluster, inwardly. +Then say to yourself: "Why am I in such a fluster?" And you'll see +you've no reason at all to be so: except that it's rather exciting to +be in a fluster, and it may seem rather stale eggs to be in no fluster +at all about anything. And yet, dear little reader, once you consider +it quietly, it's _so_ much nicer _not_ to be in a fluster. It's so +much nicer not to feel one's deeper innards storming like the Bay of +Biscay. It is so much better to get up and say to the waters of one's +own troubled spirit: Peace, be still ...! And they will be still ... +perhaps. + +And then one realizes that all the wild storms of anxiety and frenzy +were only so much breaking of eggs. It isn't our business to live +anybody's life, or to die anybody's death, except our own. Nor to save +anybody's soul, nor to put anybody in the right; nor yet in the wrong, +which is more the point to-day. But to be still, and to ignore the +false fine frenzy of the seething world. To turn away, now, each one +into the stillness and solitude of his own soul. And there to remain +in the quiet with the Holy Ghost which is to each man his own true +soul. + +This is the way out of the vicious circle. Not to rush round on the +periphery, like a rabbit in a ring, trying to break through. But to +retreat to the very center, and there to be filled with a new strange +stability, polarized in unfathomable richness with the center of +centers. We are so silly, trying to invent devices and machines for +flying off from the surface of the earth. Instead of realizing that +for us the deep satisfaction lies not in escaping, but in getting into +the perfect circuit of the earth's terrestrial magnetism. Not in +breaking away. What is the good of trying to break away from one's +own? What is the good of a tree desiring to fly like a bird in the +sky, when a bird is rooted in the earth as surely as a tree is? Nay, +the bird is only the topmost leaf of the tree, fluttering in the high +air, but attached as close to the tree as any other leaf. Mr. +Einstein's Theory of Relativity does not supersede the Newtonian Law +of Gravitation or of Inertia. It only says, "Beware! The Law of +Inertia is not the simple ideal proposition you would like to make of +it. It is a vast complexity. Gravitation is not one elemental uncouth +force. It is a strange, infinitely complex, subtle aggregate of +forces." And yet, however much it may waggle, a stone does fall to +earth if you drop it. + +We should like, vulgarly, to rejoice and say that the new Theory of +Relativity releases us from the old obligation of centrality. It does +no such thing. It only makes the old centrality much more strange, +subtle, complex, and vital. It only robs us of the nice old ideal +simplicity. Which ideal simplicity and logicalness has become such a +fish-bone stuck in our throats. + +The universe is once more in the mental melting-pot. And you can melt +it down as long as you like, and mutter all the jargon and +abracadabra, _aldeboronti fosco fornio_ of science that mental +monkey-tricks can teach you, you won't get anything in the end but a +formula and a lie. The atom? Why, the moment you discover the atom it +will explode under your nose. The moment you discover the ether it +will evaporate. The moment you get down to the real basis of anything, +it will dissolve into a thousand problematic constituents. And the +more problems you solve, the more will spring up with their fingers at +their nose, making a fool of you. + +There is only one clue to the universe. And that is the individual +soul within the individual being. That outer universe of suns and +moons and atoms is a secondary affair. It is the death-result of +living individuals. There is a great polarity in life itself. Life +itself is dual. And the duality is life and death. And death is not +just shadow or mystery. It is the negative reality of life. It is what +we call Matter and Force, among other things. + +Life is individual, always was individual and always will be. Life +consists of living individuals, and always did so consist, in the +beginning of everything. There never was any universe, any cosmos, of +which the first reality was anything but living, incorporate +individuals. I don't say the individuals were exactly like you and me. +And they were never wildly different. + +And therefore it is time for the idealist and the scientist--they are +one and the same, really--to stop his monkey-jargon about the atom and +the origin of life and the mechanical clue to the universe. There +isn't any such thing. I might as well say: "Then they took the cart, +and rubbed it all over with grease. Then they sprayed it with white +wine, and spun round the right wheel five hundred revolutions to the +minute and the left wheel, in the opposite direction, seven hundred +and seventy-seven revolutions to the minute. Then a burning torch was +applied to each axle. And lo, the footboard of the cart began to +swell, and suddenly as the cart groaned and writhed, the horse was +born, and lay panting between the shafts." The whole scientific theory +of the universe is not worth such a tale: that the cart conceived and +gave birth to the horse. + +I do not believe one-fifth of what science can tell me about the sun. +I do not believe for one second that the moon is a dead world +spelched off from our globe. I do not believe that the stars came +flying off from the sun like drops of water when you spin your wet +hanky. I have believed it for twenty years, because it seemed so +ideally plausible. Now I don't accept any ideal plausibilities at all. +I look at the moon and the stars, and I know I don't believe anything +that I am told about them. Except that I like their names, Aldebaran +and Cassiopeia, and so on. + +I have tried, and even brought myself to believe in a clue to the +outer universe. And in the process I have swallowed such a lot of +jargon that I would rather listen now to a negro witch-doctor than to +Science. There is nothing in the world that is true except empiric +discoveries which work in actual appliances. I know that the sun is +hot. But I won't be told that the sun is a ball of blazing gas which +spins round and fizzes. No, thank you. + +At length, for _my_ part, I know that life, and life only is the clue +to the universe. And that the living individual is the clue to life. +And that it always was so, and always will be so. + +When the living individual dies, then is the realm of death +established. Then you get Matter and Elements and atoms and forces and +sun and moon and earth and stars and so forth. In short, the outer +universe, the Cosmos. The Cosmos is nothing but the aggregate of the +dead bodies and dead energies of bygone individuals. The dead bodies +decompose as we know into earth, air, and water, heat and radiant +energy and free electricity and innumerable other scientific facts. +The dead souls likewise decompose--or else they don't decompose. But +if they _do_ decompose, then it is not into any elements of Matter and +physical energy. They decompose into some psychic reality, and into +some potential will. They reënter into the living psyche of living +individuals. The living soul partakes of the dead souls, as the living +breast partakes of the outer air, and the blood partakes of the sun. +The soul, the individuality, never resolves itself through death into +physical constituents. The dead soul remains always soul, and always +retains its individual quality. And it does not disappear, but +reënters into the soul of the living, of some living individual or +individuals. And there it continues its part in life, as a +death-witness and a life-agent. But it does not, ordinarily, have any +separate existence there, but is incorporate in the living individual +soul. But in some extraordinary cases, the dead soul may really act +separately in a living individual. + +How this all is, and what are the laws of the relation between life +and death, the living and the dead, I don't know. But that this +relation exists, and exists in a manner as I describe it, for my own +part I know. And I am fully aware that once we direct our living +attention this way, instead of to the absurdity of the atom, then we +have a whole _living_ universe of knowledge before us. The universe of +life and death, of which we, whose business it is to live and to die, +know nothing. Whilst concerning the universe of Force and Matter we +pile up theories and make staggering and disastrous discoveries of +machinery and poison-gas, all of which we were much better without. + +It is life we have to live by, not machines and ideals. And life means +nothing else, even, but the spontaneous living soul which is our +central reality. The spontaneous, living, individual soul, this is the +clue, and the only clue. All the rest is derived. + +How it is contrived that the individual soul in the living sways the +very sun in its centrality, I do not know. But it is so. It is the +peculiar dynamic polarity of the living soul in every weed or bug or +beast, each one separately and individually polarized with the great +returning pole of the sun, that maintains the sun alive. For I take it +that the sun is the great sympathetic center of our inanimate +universe. I take it that the sun breathes in the effluence of all that +fades and dies. Across space fly the innumerable vibrations which are +the basis of all matter. They fly, breathed out from the dying and the +dead, from all that which is passing away, even in the living. These +vibrations, these elements pass away across space, and are breathed +back again. The sun itself is invisible as the soul. The sun itself is +the soul of the inanimate universe, the aggregate clue to the +substantial death, if we may call it so. The sun is the great active +pole of the sympathetic death-activity. To the sun fly the vibrations +or the molecules in the great sympathy-mode of death, and in the sun +they are renewed, they turn again as the great gift back again from +the sympathetic death-center towards life, towards the living. But it +is not even the dead which _really_ sustain the sun. It is the dynamic +relation between the solar plexus of individuals and the sun's core, a +perfect circuit. The sun is materially composed of all the effluence +of the dead. But the _quick_ of the sun is polarized with the living, +the sun's quick is polarized in dynamic relation with the quick of +life in all living things, that is, with the solar plexus in mankind. +A direct dynamic connection between my solar plexus and the sun. + +Likewise, as the sun is the great fiery, vivifying pole of the +inanimate universe, the moon is the other pole, cold and keen and +vivifying, corresponding in some way to a _voluntary_ pole. We live +between the polarized circuit of sun and moon. And the moon is +polarized with the lumbar ganglion, primarily, in man. Sun and moon +are dynamically polarized to our actual tissue, they affect this +tissue all the time. + +The moon is, as it were, the pole of our particular terrestrial +_volition_, in the universe. What holds the earth swinging in space is +first, the great dynamic attraction to the sun, and then counterposing +assertion of independence, singleness, which is polarized in the moon. +The moon is the clue to our earth's individual identity, in the wide +universe. + +The moon is an immense magnetic center. It is quite wrong to say she +is a dead snowy world with craters and so on. I should say she is +composed of some very intense element, like phosphorus or radium, some +element or elements which have very powerful chemical and kinetic +activity, and magnetic activity, affecting us through space. + +It is not the sun which we see in heaven. It is the rushing thither +and the rushing thence of the vibrations expelled by death from the +body of life, and returned back again to the body of life. Possibly +even a dead soul makes its journey to the sun and back, before we +receive it again in our breast. Just as the breath we breathe out +flies to the sun and back, before we breathe it in again. And as the +water that evaporates rises right to the sun, and returns here. What +we see is the great golden rushing thither, from the death exhalation, +towards the sun, as a great cloud of bees flying to swarm upon the +invisible queen, circling round, and loosing again. This is what we +see of the sun. The center is invisible for ever. + +And of the moon the same. The moon has her back to us for ever. Not +her face, as we like to think. The moon also pulls the water, as the +sun does. But not in evaporation. The moon pulls by the magnetic force +we call gravitation. Gravitation not being quite such a Newtonian +simple apple as we are accustomed to find it, we are perhaps farther +off from understanding the tides of the ocean than we were before the +fruit of the tree fell to Sir Isaac's head. It is certainly not simple +little-things tumble-towards-big-things gravitation. In the moon's +pull there is peculiar, quite special force exerted over those +water-born substances, phosphorus, salt, and lime. The dynamic energy +of salt water is something quite different from that of fresh water. +And it is this dynamic energy which the sea gives off, and which +connects it with the moon. And the moon is some strange coagulation of +substance such as salt, phosphorus, soda. It certainly isn't a snowy +cold world, like a world of our own gone cold. Nonsense. It is a globe +of dynamic substance like radium or phosphorus, coagulated upon a +certain vivid pole of energy, which pole of energy is directly +polarized with our earth, in opposition with the sun. + +The moon is born from the death of individuals. All things, in their +oneing, their unification into the pure, universal oneness, evaporate +and fly like an imitation breath towards the sun. Even the crumbling +rocks breathe themselves off in this rocky death, to the sun of +heaven, during the day. + +But at the same time, during the night they breathe themselves off to +the moon. If we come to think of it, light and dark are a question +both of the third body, the intervening body, what we will call, by +stretching a point, the individual. As we all know, apart from the +existence of molecules of individual matter, there is neither light +nor dark. A universe utterly without matter, we don't know whether it +is light or dark. Even the pure space between the sun and moon, the +blue space, we don't know whether, in itself, it is light or dark. We +can say it is light, we can say it is dark. But light and dark are +terms which apply only to ourselves, the third, the intermediate, the +substantial, the individual. + +If we come to think of it, light and dark only mean whether we have +our face or our back towards the sun. If we have our face to the sun, +then we establish the circuit of cosmic or universal or material or +infinite sympathy. These four adjectives, cosmic, universal, material, +and infinite are almost interchangeable, and apply, as we see, to that +realm of the non-individual existence which we call the realm of the +substantial death. It is the universe which has resulted from the +death of individuals. And to this universe alone belongs the quality +of infinity: to the universe of death. Living individuals have no +infinity save in this relation to the total death-substance and +death-being, the summed-up cosmos. + +Light and dark, these great wonders, are relative to us alone. These +are two vast poles of the cosmic energy and of material existence. +These are the vast poles of cosmic sympathy, which we call the sun, +and the other white pole of cosmic volition, which we call the moon. +To the sun belong the great forces of heat and radiant energy, to the +moon belong the great forces of magnetism and electricity, +radium-energy, and so on. The sun is not, in any sense, a material +body. It is an invariable intense pole of cosmic energy, and what we +see are the particles of our terrestrial decomposition flying thither +and returning, as fine grains of iron would fly to an intense magnet, +or better, as the draught in a room veers towards the fire, attracted +infallibly, as a moth towards a candle. The moth is drawn to the +candle as the draught is drawn to the fire, in the absolute spell of +the material polarity of fire. And air escapes again, hot and +different, from the fire. So is the sun. + +Fire, we say, is combustion. It is marvelous how science proceeds like +witchcraft and alchemy, by means of an abracadabra which has no +earthly sense. Pray, what is combustion? You can try and answer +scientifically, till you are black in the face. All you can say is +that it is _that which happens_ when matter is raised to a certain +temperature--and so forth and so forth. You might as well say, a word +is that which happens when I open my mouth and squeeze my larynx and +make various tricks with my throat muscles. All these explanations are +so senseless. They describe the apparatus, and think they have +described the event. + +Fire may be accompanied by combustion, but combustion is not +necessarily accompanied by fire. All A is B, but all B is not A. And +therefore fire, no matter how you jiggle, is not identical with +combustion. Fire. FIRE. I insist on the absolute word. You may say +that fire is a sum of various phenomena. I say it isn't. You might as +well tell me a fly is a sum of wings and six legs and two bulging +eyes. It is the fly which has the wings and legs, and not the legs and +wings which somehow nab the fly into the middle of themselves. A fly +is not a sum of various things. A fly is a fly, and the items of the +sum are still fly. + +So with fire. Fire is an absolute unity in itself. It is a dynamic +polar principle. Establish a certain polarity between the +moon-principle and the sun-principle, between the positive and +negative, or sympathetic and volitional dynamism in any piece of +matter, and you have fire, you have the sun-phenomenon. It is the +sudden flare into the one mode, the sun mode, the material sympathetic +mode. Correspondingly, establish an opposite polarity between the +sun-principle and the water-principle, and you have decomposition into +water, or towards watery dissolution. + +There are two sheer dynamic principles in our universe, the +sun-principle and the moon-principle. And these principles are known +to us in immediate contact as fire and water. The sun is not fire. But +the principle of fire is the sun-principle. That is, fire is the +sudden swoop towards the sun, of matter which is suddenly +sun-polarized. Fire is the sudden sun-assertion, the release towards +the one pole only. It is the sudden revelation of the cosmic One +Polarity, One Identity. + +But there is another pole. There is the moon. And there is another +absolute and visible principle, the principle of water. The moon is +not water. But it is the soul of water, the invisible clue to all the +waters. + +So that we begin to realize our visible universe as a vast dual +polarity between sun and moon. Two vast poles in space, invisible in +themselves, but visible owing to the circuit which swoops between +them, round them, the circuit of the universe, established at the +cosmic poles of the sun and moon. This then is the infinite, the +positive infinite of the positive pole, the sun-pole, negative +infinite of the negative pole, the moon-pole. And between the two +infinites all existence takes place. + +But wait. Existence is truly a matter of propagation between the two +infinites. But it needs a third presence. Sun-principle and +moon-principle, embracing through the æons, could never by themselves +propagate one molecule of matter. The hailstone needs a grain of dust +for its core. So does the universe. Midway between the two cosmic +infinites lies the third, which is more than infinite. This is the +Holy Ghost Life, individual life. + +It is so easy to imagine that between them, the two infinites of the +cosmos propagated life. But one single moment of pause and silence, +one single moment of gathering the whole soul into knowledge, will +tell us that it is a falsity. It was the living individual soul which, +dying, flung into space the two wings of the infinite, the two poles +of the sun and the moon. The sun and the moon are the two eternal +death-results of the death of individuals. Matter, all matter, is the +Life-born. And what we know as inert matter, this is only the result +of death in individuals, it is the dead bodies of individuals +decomposed and resmelted between the hammer and anvil, fire and sand +of the sun and the moon. When time began, the first individual died, +the poles of the sun and moon were flung into space, and between the +two, in a strange chaos and battle, the dead body was torn and melted +and smelted, and rolled beneath the feet of the living. So the world +was formed, always under the feet of the living. + +And so we have a clue to gravitation. We, mankind, are all one family. +In our individual bodies burns the positive quick of all things. But +beneath our feet, in our own earth, lies the intense center of our +human, individual death, our grave. The earth has one center, to which +we are all polarized. The circuit of our life is balanced on the +living soul within us, as the positive center, and on the earth's dark +center, the center of our abiding and eternal and substantial death, +our great negative center, away below. This is the circuit of our +immediate individual existence. We stand upon our own grave, with our +death fire, the sun, on our right hand, and our death-damp, the moon, +on our left. + +The earth's center is no accident. It is the great individual pole of +us who die. It is the center of the first dead body. It is the first +germ-cell of death, which germ-cell threw out the great nuclei of the +sun and the moon. To this center of our earth we, as humans, are +eternally polarized, as are our trees. Inevitably, we fall to earth. +And the clue of us sinks to the earth's center, the clue of our death, +of our _weight_. And the earth flings us out as wings to the sun and +moon: or as the death-germ dividing into two nuclei. So from the earth +our radiance is flung to the sun, our marsh-fire to the moon, when we +die. + +We fall into the earth. But our rising was not from the earth. We rose +from the earthless quick, the unfading life. And earth, sun, and moon +are born only of our death. But it is only their polarized dynamic +connection with us who live which sustains them all in their place +and maintains them all in their own activities. The inanimate +universe rests absolutely on the life-circuit of living creatures, is +built upon the arch which spans the duality of living beings. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +SLEEP AND DREAMS + + +This is going rather far, for a book--nay, a booklet--on the child +consciousness. But it can't be helped. Child-consciousness it is. And +we have to roll away the stone of a scientific cosmos from the +tomb-mouth of that imprisoned consciousness. + +Now, dear reader, let us see where we are. First of all, we are +ourselves--which is the refrain of all my chants. We are ourselves. We +are living individuals. And as living individuals we are the one, pure +clue to our own cosmos. To which cosmos living individuals _have +always_ been the clue, since time began, and _will always_ be the +clue, while time lasts. + +I know it is not so fireworky as the sudden evolving of life, +somewhere, somewhen and somehow, out of force and matter with a pop. +But that pop never popped, dear reader. The boot was on the other leg. +And I wish I could mix a few more metaphors, like pops and legs and +boots, just to annoy you. + +Life never evolved, or evoluted, out of force and matter, dear reader. +There is no such thing as evolution, anyhow. There is only +development. Man was man in the very first plasm-speck which was his +own individual origin, and is still his own individual origin. As for +the origin, I don't know much about it. I only know there is but one +origin, and that is the individual soul. The individual soul +originated everything, and has itself no origin. So that time is a +matter of living experience, nothing else, and eternity is just a +mental trick. Of course every living speck, amoeba or newt, has its +own individual soul. + +And we sit on our own globe, dear reader, here individually located. +Our own individual being is our own single reality. But the single +reality of the individual being is dynamically and directly polarized +to the earth's center, which is the aggregate negative center of all +terrestrial existence. In short, the center which in life we thrust +away from, and towards which we fall, in death. For, our individual +existence being positive, we must have a negative pole to thrust away +from. And when our positive individual existence breaks, and we fall +into death, our wonderful individual gravitation-center succumbs to +the earth's gravitation-center. + +So there we are, individuals, single, life-born, life-living, yet all +the while poised and polarized to the aggregate center of our +substantial death, our earth's quick, powerful center-clue. + +There may be other individuals, alive, and having other worlds under +their feet, polarized to their own globe's center. But the very +sacredness of my own individuality prevents my pronouncing about them, +lest I, in attributing qualities to them, transgress against the pure +individuality which is theirs, beyond me. + +If, however, there be truly other people, with their own world under +their feet, then I think it is fair to say that we all have our +infinite identity in the sun. That in the rush and swirl of death we +pass through fiery ways to the same sun. And from the sun, can the +spores of souls pass to the various worlds? And to the worlds of the +cosmos seed across space, through the wild beams of the sun? Is there +seed of Mars in my veins? And is astrology not altogether nonsense? + +But if the sun is the center of our infinite oneing in death with all +the other after-death souls of the cosmos: and in that great central +station of travel, the sun, we meet and mingle and change trains for +the stars: then ought we to assume that the moon is likewise a +meeting-place of dead souls? The moon surely is a meeting-place of +cold, dead, angry souls. But from our own globe only. + +The moon is the center of our terrestrial individuality in the cosmos. +She is the declaration of our existence in separateness. Save for the +intense white recoil of the moon, the earth would stagger towards the +sun. The moon holds us to our own cosmic individuality, as a world +individual in space. She is the fierce center of retraction, of +frictional withdrawal into separateness. She it is who sullenly stands +with her back to us, and refuses to meet and mingle. She it is who +burns white with the intense friction of her withdrawal into +separation, that cold, proud white fire of furious, almost malignant +apartness, the struggle into fierce, frictional separation. Her white +fire is the frictional fire of the last strange, intense watery +matter, as this matter fights its way out of combination and out of +combustion with the sun-stuff. To the pure polarity of the moon fly +the essential waters of our universe. Which essential waters, at the +moon's clue, are only an intense invisible energy, a polarity of the +moon. + +There are only three great energies in the universal life, which is +always individual and which yet sways all the physical forces as well +as the vital energy; and then the two great dynamisms of the sun and +the moon. To the dynamism of the sun belong heat, expansion-force, and +all that range. To the dynamism of the moon the _essential_ watery +forces: not just gravitation, but electricity, magnetism, +radium-energy, and so on. + +The moon likewise is the pole of our night activities, as the sun is +the pole of our day activities. Remember that the sun and moon are but +great self-abandons which individual life has thrown out, to the right +hand and to the left. When individual life dies, it flings itself on +the right hand to the sun, on the left hand to the moon, in the dual +polarity, and sinks to earth. When any man dies, his soul divides in +death; as in life, in the first germ, it was united from two germs. It +divides into two dark germs, flung asunder: the sun-germ and the +moon-germ. Then the material body sinks to earth. And so we have the +cosmic universe such as we know it. + +What is the exact relationship between us and the death-realm of the +afterwards we shall never know. But this relation is none the less +active every moment of our lives. There is a pure polarity between +life and death, between the living and the dead, between each living +individual and the outer cosmos. Between each living individual and +the earth's center passes a never-ceasing circuit of magnetism. It is +a circuit which in man travels up the right side, and down the left +side of the body, to the earth's center. It never ceases. But while we +are awake it is entirely under the control and spell of the total +consciousness, the individual consciousness, the soul, or self. When +we sleep, however, then this individual consciousness of the soul is +suspended for the time, and we lie completely within the circuit of +the earth's magnetism, or gravitation, or both: the circuit of the +earth's centrality. It is this circuit which is busy in all our tissue +removing or arranging the dead body of our past day. For each time we +lie down to sleep we have within us a body of death which dies with +the day that is spent. And this body of death is removed or laid in +line by the activities of the earth-circuit, the great active +death-circuit, while we sleep. + +As we sleep the current sweeps its own way through us, as the streets +of a city are swept and flushed at night. It sweeps through our nerves +and our blood, sweeping away the ash of our day's spent consciousness +towards one form or other of excretion. This earth-current actively +sweeping through us is really the death-activity busy in the service +of life. It behooves us to know nothing of it. And as it sweeps it +stimulates in the primary centers of consciousness vibrations which +flash images upon the mind. Usually, in deep sleep, these images pass +unrecorded; but as we pass towards the twilight of dawn and +wakefulness, we begin to retain some impression, some record of the +dream-images. Usually also the images that are accidentally swept into +the mind in sleep are as disconnected and as unmeaning as the pieces +of paper which the street cleaners sweep into a bin from the city +gutters at night. We should not think of taking all these papers, +piecing them together, and making a marvelous book of them, prophetic +of the future and pregnant with the past. We should not do so, +although every rag of printed paper swept from the gutter would have +some connection with the past day's event. But its significance, the +significance of the words printed upon it is so small, that we +relegate it into the limbo of the accidental and meaningless. There +is no vital connection between the many torn bits of paper--only an +accidental connection. Each bit of paper has reference to some actual +event: a bus-ticket, an envelope, a tract, a pastry-shop bag, a +newspaper, a hand-bill. But take them all together, bus-ticket, torn +envelope, tract, paper-bag, piece of newspaper and hand-bill, and they +have no individual sequence, they belong more to the mechanical +arrangements than to the vital consequence of our existence. And the +same with most dreams. They are the heterogeneous odds and ends of +images swept together accidentally by the besom of the night-current, +and it is beneath our dignity to attach any real importance to them. +It is always beneath our dignity to go degrading the integrity of the +individual soul by cringing and scraping among the rag-tag of accident +and of the inferior, mechanic coincidence and automatic event. Only +those events are significant which derive from or apply to the soul in +its full integrity. To go kow-towing before the facts of change, as +gamblers and fortune-readers and fatalists do, is merely a perverting +of the soul's proud integral priority, a rearing up of idiotic idols +and fetishes. + +Most dreams are purely insignificant, and it is the sign of a weak +and paltry nature to pay any attention to them whatever. Only +occasionally they matter. And this is only when something _threatens_ +us from the outer mechanical, or accidental _death_-world. When +anything threatens us from the world of death, then a dream may become +so vivid that it arouses the actual soul. And when a dream is so +intense that it arouses the soul--then we must attend to it. + +But we may have the most appalling nightmare because we eat pancakes +for supper. Here again, we are threatened with an arrest of the +mechanical flow of the system. This arrest becomes so serious that it +affects the great organs of the heart and lungs, and these organs +affect the primary conscious-centers. + +Now we shall see that this is the direct reverse of real living +consciousness. In living consciousness the primary affective centers +control the great organs. But when sleep is on us, the reverse takes place. +The great organs, being obstructed in their spontaneous-automatism, at last +with violence arouse the active conscious-centers. And these flash images +to the brain. + +These nightmare images are very frequently purely mechanical: as of +falling terribly downwards, or being enclosed in vaults. And such +images are pure physical transcripts. The image of falling, of flying, +of trying to run and not being able to lift the feet, of having to +creep through terribly small passages, these are direct transcripts +from the physical phenomena of circulation and digestion. It is the +directly transcribed image of the heart which, impeded in its action +by the gases of indigestion, is switched out of its established +circuit of earth-polarity, and is as if suspended over a void, or +plunging into a void: step by step, falling downstairs, maybe, +according to the strangulation of the heart beats. The same paralytic +inability to lift the feet when one needs to run, in a dream, comes +directly from the same impeded action of the heart, which is thrown +off its balance by some material obstruction. Now the heart swings +left and right in the pure circuit of the earth's polarity. Hinder +this swing, force the heart over to the left, by inflation of gas from +the stomach or by dead pressure upon the blood and nerves from any +obstruction, and you get the sensation of being unable to lift the +feet from earth: a gasping sensation. Or force the heart to +over-balance towards the right, and you get the sensation of flying or +of falling. The heart telegraphs its distress to the mind, and wakes +us. The wakeful soul at once begins to deal with the obstruction, +which was too much for the mechanical night-circuits. The same holds +good of dreams of imprisonment, or of creeping through narrow +passages. They are direct transfers from the squeezing of the blood +through constricted arteries or heart chambers. + +Most dreams are stimulated from the blood into the nerves and the +nerve-centers. And the heart is the transmission station. For the +blood has a unity and a consciousness of its own. It has a deeper, +elemental consciousness of the mechanical or material world. In the +blood we have the body of our most elemental consciousness, our almost +material consciousness. And during sleep this material consciousness +transfers itself into the nerves and to the brain. The transfer in +wakefulness results in a feeling of pain or discomfort--as when we +have indigestion, which is pure blood-discomfort. But in sleep the +transfer is made through the dream-images which are mechanical +phenomena like mirages. + +Nightmares which have purely mechanical images may terrify us, give us +a great shock, but the shock does not enter our souls. We are +surprised, in the morning, to find that the bristling horror of the +night seems now just nothing--dwindled to nothing. And this is because +what was a purely material obstruction in the physical flow, temporary +only, is indeed a nothingness to the living, integral soul. We are +subject to such accidents--if we will eat pancakes for supper. And +that is the end of it. + +But there are other dreams which linger and haunt the soul. These are +true soul-dreams. As we know, life consists of reactions and +interrelations from the great centers of primary consciousness. I may +start a chain of connection from one center, which inevitably +stimulates into activity the corresponding center. For example, I may +develop a profound and passional love for my mother, in my days of +adolescence. This starts, willy-nilly, the whole activity of adult +love at the lower centers. But admission is made only of the upper, +spiritual love, the love dynamically polarized at the upper centers. +Nevertheless, whether the admission is made or not, once establish the +circuit in the upper or spiritual centers of adult love, and you will +get a corresponding activity in the lower, passional centers of adult +love. + +The activity at the lower center, however, is denied in the daytime. +There is a repression. Then the friction of the night-flow liberates +the repressed psychic activity explosively. And then the image of the +mother figures in passionate, disturbing, soul-rending dreams. + +The Freudians point to this as evidence of a repressed incest desire. +The Freudians are too simple. It is _always_ wrong to accept a +dream-meaning at its face value. Sleep is the time when we are given +over to the automatic processes of the inanimate universe. Let us not +forget this. Dreams are automatic in their nature. The psyche +possesses remarkably few dynamic images. In the case of the boy who +dreams of his mother, we have the aroused but unattached sex plunging +in sleep, causing a sort of obstruction. We have the image of the +mother, the dynamic emotional image. And the automatism of the +dream-process immediately unites the sex-sensation to the great stock +image, and produces an incest dream. But does this prove a repressed +incest desire? On the contrary. + +The truth is, every man has, the moment he awakes, a hatred of his +dream, and a great desire to be free of the dream, free of the +persistent mother-image or sister-image of the dream. It is a ghoul, +it haunts his dreams, this image, with its hateful conclusions. And +yet he cannot get free. As long as a man lives he may, in his dreams +of passion or conflict, be haunted by the mother-image or +sister-image, even when he knows that the cause of the disturbing +dream is the wife. But even though the actual subject of the dream is +the wife, still, over and over again, for years, the dream-process +will persist in substituting the mother-image. It haunts and terrifies +a man. + +Why does the dream-process act so? For two reasons. First, the reason +of simple automatic continuance. The mother-image was the first great +emotional image to be introduced in the psyche. The dream-process +mechanically reproduces its stock image the moment the intense +sympathy-emotion is aroused. Again, the mother-image refers only to +the upper plane. But the dream-process is mechanical in its logic. +Because the mother-image refers to the great dynamic stress of the +upper plane, therefore it refers to the great dynamic stress of the +lower. This is a piece of sheer automatic logic. The living soul is +_not_ automatic, and automatic logic does not apply to it. + +But for our second reason for the image. In becoming the object of +great emotional stress for her son, the mother also becomes an object +of poignancy, of anguish, of arrest, to her son. She arrests him from +finding his proper fulfillment on the sensual plane. Now it is almost +always the object of arrest which becomes impressed, as it were, upon +the psyche. A man very rarely has an image of a person with whom he is +livingly, vitally connected. He only has dream-images of the persons +who, in some way, _oppose_ his life-flow and his soul's freedom, and +so become impressed upon his plasm as objects of resistance. Once a +man is dynamically caught on the upper plane by mother or sister, then +the dream-image of mother or sister will persist until the dynamic +_rapport_ between himself and his mother or sister is finally broken. +And the dream-image from the upper plane will be automatically applied +to the disturbance of the lower plane. + +Because--and this is very important--the dream-process _loves_ its own +automatism. It would force everything to an automatic-logical +conclusion in the psyche. But the living, wakeful psyche is so +flexible and sensitive, it has a horror of automatism. While the soul +really lives, its deepest dread is perhaps the dread of automatism. +For automatism in life is a forestalling of the death process. + +The living soul has its great fear. The living soul _fears_ the +automatically logical conclusion of incest. Hence the sleep-process +invariably draws this conclusion. The dream-process, fiendishly, plays +a triumph of automatism over us. But the dream-conclusion is almost +invariably just the _reverse_ of the soul's desire, in any +distress-dream. Popular dream-telling understood this, and pronounced +that you must read dreams backwards. Dream of a wedding, and it means +a funeral. Wish your friend well, and fear his death, and you will +dream of his funeral. Every desire has its corresponding fear that the +desire shall not be fulfilled. It is _fear_ which forms an +arrest-point in the psyche, hence an image. So the dream automatically +produces the fear-image as the desire-image. If you secretly wished +your enemy dead, and feared he might flourish, the dream would present +you with his wedding. + +Of course this rule of inversion is too simple to hold good in all +cases. Yet it is one of the most general rules for dreams, and applies +most often to desire-and-fear dreams of a psychic nature. + +So that an incest-dream would not prove an incest-desire in the living +psyche. Rather the contrary, a living fear of the automatic +conclusion: the soul's just dread of automatism. And though this may +sound like casuistry, I believe it does explain a good deal of the +dream-trick.--That which is lovely to the automatic process is hateful +to the spontaneous soul. The wakeful living soul fears automatism as +it fears death: death being automatic. + +It seems to me these are the first two dream-principles, and the two +most important: the principle of automatism and the principle of +inversion. They will not resolve everything for us, but they will help +a great deal. We have to be _very_ wary of giving way to dreams. It is +really a sin against ourselves to prostitute the living spontaneous +soul to the tyranny of dreams, or of chance, or fortune or luck, or +any of the processes of the automatic sphere. + +Then consider other dynamic dreams. First, the dream-image generally. +Any _significant_ dream-image is usually an image or a symbol of some +arrest or scotch in the living spontaneous psyche. There is another +principle. But if the image is a symbol, then the only safe way to +explain the symbol is to proceed from the quality of emotion +connected with the symbol. + +For example, a man has a persistent passionate fear-dream about +horses. He suddenly finds himself among great, physical horses, which +may suddenly go wild. Their great bodies surge madly round him, they +rear above him, threatening to destroy him. At any minute he may be +trampled down. + +Now a psychoanalyst will probably tell you off-hand that this is a +father-complex dream. Certain symbols seem to be put into complex +catalogues. But it is all too arbitrary. + +Examining the emotional reference we find that the feeling is sensual, +there is a great impression of the powerful, almost beautiful physical +bodies of the horses, the nearness, the rounded haunches, the rearing. +Is the dynamic passion in a horse the danger-passion? It is a great +sensual reaction at the sacral ganglion, a reaction of intense, +sensual, dominant volition. The horse which rears and kicks and neighs +madly acts from the intensely powerful sacral ganglion. But this +intense activity from the sacral ganglion is male: the sacral ganglion +is at its highest intensity in the male. So that the horse-dream +refers to some arrest in the deepest sensual activity in the male. +The horse is presented as an object of terror, which means that to the +man's automatic dream-soul, which loves automatism, the great sensual +male activity is the greatest menace. The automatic pseudo-soul, which +has got the sensual nature repressed, would like to keep it repressed. +Whereas the greatest desire of the living spontaneous soul is that +this very male sensual nature, represented as a menace, shall be +actually accomplished in life. The spontaneous self is secretly +yearning for the liberation and fulfillment of the deepest and most +powerful sensual nature. There may be an element of father-complex. +The horse may also refer to the powerful sensual being in the father. +The dream may mean a love of the dreamer for the sensual male who is +his father. But it has nothing to do with _incest_. The love is +probably a just love. + +The bull-dream is a curious reversal. In the bull the centers of power +are in the breast and shoulders. The horns of the head are symbols of +this vast power in the upper self. The woman's fear of the bull is a +great terror of the dynamic _upper_ centers in man. The bull's horns, +instead of being phallic, represent the enormous potency of the upper +centers. A woman whose most positive dynamism is in the breast and +shoulders is fascinated by the bull. Her dream-fear of the bull and +his horns which may run into her may be reversed to a significance of +desire for connection, not from the centers of the lower, sensual +self, but from the intense physical centers of the upper body: the +phallus polarized from the upper centers, and directed towards the +great breast center of the woman. Her wakeful fear is terror of the +great breast-and-shoulder, _upper_ rage and power of man, which may +pierce her defenseless lower self. The terror and the desire are near +together--and go with an admiration of the slender, abstracted bull +loins. + +Other dream-fears, or strong dream-impressions, may be almost +imageless. They may be a great terror, for example, of a purely +geometric figure--a figure from pure geometry, or an example of pure +mathematics. Or they may have no image, but only a sensation of smell, +or of color, or of sound. + +These are the dream-fears of the soul which is falling out of human +integrity into the purely mechanical mode. If we idealize ourselves +sufficiently, the spontaneous centers do at last work only, or almost +only, in the mechanical mode. They have no dynamic relation with +another being. They cannot have. Their whole power of dynamic +relationship is quenched. They act now in reference purely to the +mechanical world, of force and matter, sensation and law. So that in +dream-activity sensation or abstraction, abstract law or calculation +occurs as the predominant or exclusive image. In the dream there may +be a sensation of admiration or delight. The waking sensation is fear. +Because the soul fears above all things its fall from individual +integrity into the mechanic activity of the outer world, which is the +automatic death-world. + +And this is our danger to-day. We tend, through deliberate idealism or +deliberate material purpose, to destroy the soul in its first nature +of spontaneous, integral being, and to substitute the second nature, +the automatic nature of the mechanical universe. For this purpose we +stay up late at night, and we rise late in the morning. + +To stay up late into the night is always bad. Let us be as ideal as we +may, when the sun goes down the natural mode of life changes in us. +The mind changes its activity. As the soul gradually goes passive, +before yielding up its sway, the mind falls into its second phase of +activity. It collects the results of the spent day into consciousness, +lays down the honey of quiet thought, or the bitter-sweet honey of the +gathered flower. It is the consciousness of that which is past. +Evening is our time to read history and tragedy and romance--all of +which are the utterance of that which is past, that which is over, +that which is finished, is concluded: either sweetly concluded, or +bitterly. Evening is the time for this. + +But evening is the time also for revelry, for drink, for passion. +Alcohol enters the blood and acts as the sun's rays act. It inflames +into life, it liberates into energy and consciousness. But by a +process of combustion. That life of the day which we have not lived, +by means of sun-born alcohol we can now flare into sensation, +consciousness, energy and passion, and live it out. It is a liberation +from the laws of idealism, a release from the restriction of control +and fear. It is the blood bursting into consciousness. But naturally +the course of the liberated consciousness may be in either direction: +sharper mental action, greater fervor of spiritual emotion, or deeper +sensuality. Nowadays the last is becoming much more unusual. + +The active mind-consciousness of the night is a form of +retrospection, or else it is a form of impulsive exclamation, direct +from the blood, and unbalanced. Because the active physical +consciousness of the night is the blood-consciousness, the most +elemental form of consciousness. Vision is perhaps our highest form of +_dynamic_ upper consciousness. But our deepest lower consciousness is +blood-consciousness. + +And the dynamic lower centers are swayed from the blood. When the +blood rouses into its night intensity, it naturally kindles first the +lowest dynamic centers. It transfers its voice and its fire to the +great hypogastric plexus, which governs, with the help of the sacral +ganglion, the flow of urine through us, but which also voices the deep +swaying of the blood in sex passion. Sex is our deepest form of +consciousness. It is utterly non-ideal, non-mental. It is pure +blood-consciousness. It is the basic consciousness of the blood, the +nearest thing in us to pure material consciousness. It is the +consciousness of the night, when the soul is _almost_ asleep. + +The blood-consciousness is the first and last knowledge of the living +soul: the depths. It is the soul acting in part only, speaking with +its first hoarse half-voice. And blood-consciousness cannot operate +purely until the soul has put off all its manifold degrees and forms +of upper consciousness. As the self falls back into quiescence, it +draws itself from the brain, from the great nerve-centers, into the +blood, where at last it will sleep. But as it draws and folds itself +livingly in the blood, at the dark and powerful hour, it sends out its +great call. For even the blood is alone and in part, and needs an +answer. Like the waters of the Red Sea, the blood is divided in a dual +polarity between the sexes. As the night falls and the consciousness +sinks deeper, suddenly the blood is heard hoarsely calling. Suddenly +the deep centers of the sexual consciousness rouse to their +spontaneous activity. Suddenly there is a deep circuit established +between me and the woman. Suddenly the sea of blood which is me heaves +and rushes towards the sea of blood which is her. There is a moment of +pure frictional crisis and contact of blood. And then all the blood in +me ebbs back into its ways, transmuted, changed. And this is the +profound basis of my renewal, my deep blood renewal. + +And this has nothing to do with pretty faces or white skin or rosy +breasts or any of the rest of the trappings of sexual love. These +trappings belong to the day. Neither eyes nor hands nor mouth have +anything to do with the final massive and dark collision of the blood +in the sex crisis, when the strange flash of electric transmutation +passes through the blood of the man and the blood of the woman. They +fall apart and sleep in their transmutation. + +But even in its profoundest, and most elemental movements, the soul is +still individual. Even in its most material consciousness, it is still +integral and individual. You would think the great blood-stream of +mankind was one and homogeneous. And it is indeed more nearly one, +more near to homogeneity than anything else within us. The +blood-stream of mankind is almost homogeneous. + +But it isn't homogeneous. In the first place, it is dual in a perfect +dark dynamic polarity, the sexual polarity. No getting away from the +fact that the blood of woman is dynamically polarized in opposition, +or in difference to the blood of man. The crisis of their contact in +sex connection is the moment of establishment of a new flashing +circuit throughout the whole sea: the dark, burning red waters of our +under-world rocking in a new dynamic rhythm in each of us. And then in +the second place, the blood of an individual is his _own_ blood. That +is, it is individual. And though we have a potential dynamic sexual +connection, we men, with almost every woman, yet the great outstanding +fact of the individuality even of the blood makes us need a +corresponding individuality in the woman we are to embrace. The more +individual the man or woman, the more unsatisfactory is a +non-individual connection: promiscuity. The more individual, the more +does our blood cry out for its own specific answer, an individual +woman, blood-polarized with us. + +We have made the mistake of idealism again. We have thought that the +woman who thinks and talks as we do will be the blood-answer. And we +force it to be so. To our disaster. The woman who thinks and talks as +we do is almost sure to have no dynamic blood-polarity with us. The +dynamic blood-polarity would make her different from me, and not like +me in her thought mode. Blood-sympathy is so much deeper than +thought-mode, that it may result in very different expression, +verbally. + +We have made the mistake of turning life inside out: of dragging the +day-self into the night, and spreading the night-self over into the +day. We have made love and sex a matter of seeing and hearing and of +day-conscious manipulation. We have made men and women come together +on the grounds of this superficial likeness and commonalty--their +mental, and upper sympathetic consciousness. And so we have forced the +blood to submission. Which means we force it into disintegration. + +We have too much light in the night, and too much sleep in the day. It +is an evil thing for us to prolong as we do the mental, visual, ideal +consciousness far into the night when the hour has come for this upper +consciousness to fade, for the blood alone to know and to act. By +provoking the reaction of the great blood-stress, the sex-reaction, +from the upper, outer mental consciousness and mental lasciviousness +of conscious purpose, we thereby destroy the very blood in our bodies. +We prevent it from having its own dynamic sway. We prevent it from +coming to its own dynamic crisis and connection, from finding its own +fundamental being. No matter how we work our sex, from the upper or +outer consciousness, we don't achieve anything but the falsification +and impoverishment of our own blood-life. We have no choice. Either we +must withdraw from interference, or slowly deteriorate. + +We have made a corresponding mistake in sleeping on into the day. +Once the sun rises our constitution changes. Once the sun is well up +our sleep--supposing our life fairly normal--is no longer truly sleep. +When the sun comes up the centers of active dynamic upper +consciousness begin to wake. The blood changes its vibration and even +its chemical constitution. And then we too ought to wake. We do +ourselves great damage by sleeping too long into the day. The +half-hour's sleep after midday meal is a readjustment. But the long +hours of morning sleep are just a damage. We submit our now active +centers of upper consciousness to the dominion of the blood-automatic +flow. We chain ourselves down in our morning sleep. We transmute the +morning's blood-strength into false dreams and into an ever-increasing +force of inertia. And naturally, in the same line of inertia we +persist from bad to worse. + +With the result that our chained-down, active nerve-centers are +half-shattered before we arise. We never become newly day-conscious, +because we have subjected our powerful centers of day-consciousness to +be trampled and wasted into dreams and inertia by the heavy flow of +the blood-automatism in the morning sleeps. Then we arise with a +feeling of the monotony and automatism of life. There is no good, +glad refreshing. We feel tired to start with. And so we protract our +day-consciousness on into the night, when we _do_ at last begin to +come awake, and we tell ourselves we must sleep, sleep, sleep in the +morning and the daytime. It is better to sleep only six hours than to +prolong sleep on and on when the sun has risen. Every man and woman +should be forced out of bed soon after the sun has risen: particularly +the nervous ones. And forced into physical activity. Soon after dawn +the vast majority of people should be hard at work. If not, they will +soon be nervously diseased. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE LOWER SELF + + +So it comes about that the moon is the planet of our nights, as the +sun of our days. And this is not just accidental, or even mechanical. +The influence of the moon upon the tides and upon us is not just an +accident in phenomena. It is the result of the creation of the +universe by life itself. It was life itself which threw the moon apart +on the one hand, the sun on the other. And it is life itself which +keeps the dynamic-vital relation constant between the moon and the +living individuals of the globe. The moon is as dependent upon the +life of individuals, for her continued existence, as each single +individual is dependent upon the moon. + +The same with the sun. The sun sets and has his perfect polarity in +the life-circuit established between him and all living individuals. +Break that circuit, and the sun breaks. Without man, beasts, +butterflies, trees, toads, the sun would gutter out like a spent lamp. +It is the life-emission from individuals which feeds his burning and +establishes his sun-heart in its powerful equilibrium. + +The same with the moon. She lives from us, primarily, and we from her. +Everything is a question of relativity. Not only is every force +relative to other force or forces, but every existence is relative to +other existences. Not only does the life of man depend on man, beast, +and herb, but on the sun and moon, and the stars. And in another +manner, the existence of the moon depends absolutely on the life of +herb, beast, and man. The existence of the moon depends upon the life +of individuals, that which alone is original. Without the life of +individuals the moon would fall asunder. And the moon particularly, +because she is polarized dynamically to this, our own earth. We do not +know what far-off life breathes between the stars and the sun. But our +life alone supports the moon. Just as the moon is the pole of our +single terrestrial individuality. + +Therefore we must know that between the moon and each individual being +exists a vital dynamic flow. The life of individuals depends directly +upon the moon, just as the moon depends directly upon the life of +individuals. + +But in what way does the life of individuals depend directly upon the +moon? + +The moon is the mother of darkness. She is the clue to the active +darkness. And we, below the waist, we have our being in darkness. +Below the waist we are sightless. When, in the daytime, our life is +polarized upwards, towards the open, sun-wakened eyes and the mind +which sees in vision, then the powerful dynamic centers of the lower +body act in subservience, in their negative polarity. And then we flow +upwards, we go forth seeking the universe, in vision, speech, and +thought--we go forth to see all things, to hear all things, to know +all things by acquaintance and by knowledge. One flood of dynamic flow +are we, upwards polarized, in our tallness and our wide-eyed spirit +seeking to bring all the universe into the range of our conscious +individuality, and eager always to make new worlds, out of this old +world, to bud new green tips on the tree of life. Just as a tree would +die if it were not making new green tips upon all its vast old world +of a body, so the whole universe would perish if man and beast and +herb were not always putting forth a newness: the toad taking a +vivider color, spreading his hands a little more gently, developing a +more rusé intelligence, the birds adding a new note to their speech +and song, a new sharp swerve to their flight, a new nicety to their +nests; and man, making new worlds, new civilizations. If it were not +for this striving into new creation on the part of living individuals, +the universe would go dead, gradually, gradually and fall asunder. +Like a tree that ceases to put forth new green tips, and to advance +out a little further. + +But each new tip arises out of the apparent death of the old, the +preceding one. Old leaves have got to fall, old forms must die. And if +men must at certain periods fall into death in millions, why, so must +the leaves fall every single autumn. And dead leaves make good mold. +And so dead men. Even dead men's souls. + +So if death has to be the goal for a great number, then let it be so. +If America must invent this poison-gas, let her. When death is our +goal of goals we shall invent the means of death, let our professions +of benevolence be what they will. + +But this time, it seems to me, we have consciously and responsibly to +carry ourselves through the winter-period, the period of death and +denudation: that is, some of us have, some _nation_ even must. For +there are not now, as in the Roman times, any great reservoirs of +energetic barbaric life. Goths, Gauls, Germans, Slavs, Tartars. The +world is very full of people, but all fixed in civilizations of their +own, and they all have all our vices, all our mechanisms, and all our +means of destruction. This time, the leading civilization cannot die +out as Greece, Rome, Persia died. It must suffer a great collapse, +maybe. But it must carry through all the collapse the living clue to +the next civilization. It's no good thinking we can leave it to China +or Japan or India or Africa--any of the great swarms. + +And here we are, we don't look much like carrying through to a new +era. What have we got that will carry through? The latest craze is Mr. +Einstein's Relativity Theory. Curious that everybody catches fire at +the word Relativity. There must be something in the mere suggestion, +which we have been waiting for. But what? As far as I can see, +Relativity means, for the common amateur mind, that there is no one +absolute force in the physical universe, to which all other forces may +be referred. There is no one single absolute central principle +governing the world. The great cosmic forces or mechanical principles +can only be known in their relation to one another, and can only exist +in their relation to one another. But, says Einstein, this relation +between the mechanical forces is constant, and may be expressed by a +mathematical formula: which mathematical formula may be used to equate +all mechanical forces of the universe. + +I hope that is not scientifically all wrong. It is what I understand +of the Einstein theory. What I doubt is the equation formula. It seems +to me, also, that the velocity of light through space is the _deus ex +machina_ in Einstein's physics. Somebody will some day put salt on the +tail of light as it travels through space, and then its simple +velocity will split up into something complex, and the Relativity +formula will fall to bits.--But I am a confirmed outsider, so I'll +hold my tongue. + +All I know is that people have got the word Relativity into their +heads, and catch-words always refer to some latent idea or conception +in the popular mind. It has taken a Jew to knock the last center-pin +out of our ideally spinning universe. The Jewish intelligence for +centuries has been picking holes in our ideal system--scientific and +sociological. Very good thing for us. Now Mr. Einstein, we are glad to +say, has pulled out the very axle pin. At least that is how the vulgar +mind understands it. The equation formula doesn't count.--So now, the +universe, according to the popular mind, can wobble about without +being pinned down.--Really, an anarchical conclusion. But the Jewish +mind insidiously drives us to anarchical conclusions. We are glad to +be driven from false, automatic fixities, anyhow. And once we are +driven right on to nihilism we may find a way through. + +So, there is nothing absolute left in the universe. Nothing. Lord +Haldane says pure knowledge is absolute. As far as it goes, no doubt. +But pure knowledge is only such a tiny bit of the universe, and always +relative to the thing known and to the knower. + +I feel inclined to Relativity myself. I think there is no one absolute +principle in the universe. I think everything is relative. But I also +feel, most strongly, that in itself each individual living creature is +absolute: in its own being. And that all things in the universe are +just relative to the individual living creature. And that individual +living creatures are relative to each other. + +And what about a goal? There is no final goal. But every step taken +has its own little relative goal. So what about the next step? + +Well, first and foremost, that every individual creature shall come to +its own particular and individual fullness of being.--Very nice, very +pretty--but _how_? Well, through a living dynamic relation to other +creatures.--Very nice again, pretty little adjectives. But what _sort_ +of a living dynamic relation?--Well, _not_ the relation of love, +that's one thing, nor of brotherhood, nor equality. The next relation +has got to be a relationship of men towards men in a spirit of +unfathomable trust and responsibility, service and leadership, +obedience and pure authority. Men have got to choose their leaders, +and obey them to the death. And it must be a system of culminating +aristocracy, society tapering like a pyramid to the supreme leader. + +All of which sounds very distasteful at the moment. But upon all the +vital lessons we have learned during our era of love and spirit and +democracy we can found our new order. + +We wanted to be all of a piece. And we couldn't bring it off. Because +we just _aren't_ all of a piece. We wanted first to have nothing but +nice daytime selves, awfully nice and kind and refined. But it didn't +work. Because whether we want it or not, we've got night-time selves. +And the most spiritual woman ever born or made has to perform her +natural functions just like anybody else. We must _always_ keep in +line with this fact. + +Well, then, we have night-time selves. And the night-self is the very +basis of the dynamic self. The blood-consciousness and the +blood-passion is the very source and origin of us. Not that we can +_stay_ at the source. Nor even make a _goal_ of the source, as Freud +does. The business of living is to travel away from the source. But +you must start every single day fresh from the source. You must rise +every day afresh out of the dark sea of the blood. + +When you go to sleep at night, you have to say: "Here dies the man I +am and know myself to be." And when you rise in the morning you have +to say: "Here rises an unknown quantity which is still myself." + +The self which rises naked every morning out of the dark sleep of the +passionate, hoarsely-calling blood: this is the unit for the next +society. And the polarizing of the passionate blood in the individual +towards life, and towards leader, this must be the dynamic of the next +civilization. The intense, passionate yearning of the soul towards the +soul of a stronger, greater individual, and the passionate +blood-belief in the fulfillment of this yearning will give men the +next motive for life. + +We have to sink back into the darkness and the elemental consciousness +of the blood. And from this rise again. But there is no rising until +the bath of darkness and extinction is accomplished. + +As social units, as civilized men we have to do what we do as physical +organisms. Every day, the sun sets from the sky, and darkness falls, +and every day, when this happens, the tide of life turns in us. +Instead of flowing upwards and outwards towards mental consciousness +and activity, it turns back, to flow downwards. Downwards towards the +digestion processes, downwards further to the great sexual +conjunctions, downwards to sleep. + +This is the soul now retreating, back from the outer life of day, back +to the origins. And so, it stays its hour at the first great sensual +stations, the solar plexus and the lumbar ganglion. But the tide ebbs +on, down to the immense, almost inhuman passionate darkness of sex, +the strange and moon-like intensity of the hypogastric plexus and the +sacral ganglion, then deep, deeper, past the last great station of the +darkest psyche, down to the earth's center. Then we sleep. + +And the moon is the tide-turner. The moon is the great cosmic pole +which calls us back, back out of our day-self, back through the +moonlit darknesses of the sensual planes, to sleep. It is the moon +that sways the blood, and sways us back into the extinction of the +blood.--And as the soul retreats back into the sea of its own +darkness, the mind, stage by stage, enjoys the mental consciousness +that belongs to this retreat back into the sensual deeps; and then it +goes extinguished. There is sleep. + +And so we resolve back towards our elementals. We dissolve back, out +of the upper consciousness, out of mind and sight and speech, back, +down into the deep and massive, swaying consciousness of the dark, +living blood. At the last hour of sex I am no more than a powerful +wave of mounting blood. Which seeks to surge and join with the +answering sea in the other individual. When the sea of individual +blood which I am at that hour heaves and finds its pure contact with +the sea of individual blood which is the woman at that hour, then each +of us enters into the wholeness of our deeper infinitude, our profound +fullness of being, in the ocean of our oneness and our consciousness. + +This is under the spell of the moon, of sea-born Aphrodite, mother and +bitter goddess. For I am carried away from my sunny day-self into +this other tremendous self, where knowledge will not save me, but +where I must obey as the sea obeys the tides. Yet however much I go, I +know that I am all the while myself, in my going. + +This then is the duality of my day and my night being: a duality so +bitter to an adolescent. For the adolescent thinks with shame and +terror of his night. He would wish to have no night-self. But it is +Moloch, and he cannot escape it. + +The tree is born of its roots and its leaves. And we of our days and +our nights. Without the night-consummation we are trees without roots. + +And the night-consummation takes place under the spell of the moon. It +is one pure motion of meeting and oneing. But even so, it is a +circuit, not a straight line. One pure motion of meeting and oneing, +until the flash breaks forth, when the two are one. And this, this +flashing moment of the ignition of two seas of blood, this is the +moment of begetting. But the begetting of a child is less than the +begetting of the man and the woman. Woman is begotten of man at that +moment, into her greater self: and man is begotten of woman. This is +the main. And that which cannot be fulfilled, perfected in the two +individuals, that which cannot take fire into individual life, this +trickles down and is the seed of a new life, destined ultimately to +fulfill that which the parents could not fulfill. So it is for ever. + +Sex then is a polarization of the individual blood in man towards the +individual blood in woman. It is more, also. But in its prime +functional reality it is this. And sex union means bringing into +connection the dynamic poles of sex in man and woman. + +In sex we have our basic, most elemental being. Here we have our most +elemental contact. It is from the hypogastric plexus and the sacral +ganglion that the dark forces of manhood and womanhood sparkle. From +the dark plexus of sympathy run out the acute, intense sympathetic +vibrations direct to the corresponding pole. Or so it should be, in +genuine passionate love. There is no mental interference. There is +even no interference of the upper centers. Love is supposed to be +blind. Though modern love wears strong spectacles. + +But love is really blind. Without sight or scent or hearing the +powerful magnetic current vibrates from the hypogastric plexus in the +female, vibrating on to the air like some intense wireless message. +And there is immediate response from the sacral ganglion in some +male. And then sight and day-consciousness begin to fade. In the lower +animals apparently any male can receive the vibration of any female: +and if need be, even across long distances of space. But the higher +the development the more individual the attunement. Every wireless +station can only receive those messages which are in its own vibration +key. So with sex in specialized individuals. From the powerful dynamic +center the female sends out her dark summons, the intense dark +vibration of sex. And according to her nature, she receives her +responses from the males. The male enters the magnetic field of the +female. He vibrates helplessly in response. There is established at +once a dynamic circuit, more or less powerful. It would seem as if, +while ever life remains free and wild and independent, the +sex-circuit, while it lasts, is omnipotent. There is one electric flow +which encompasses one male and one female, or one male and one +particular group of females all polarized in the same key of +vibration. + +This circuit of vital sex magnetism, at first loose and wide, +gradually closes and becomes more powerful, contracts and grows more +intense, until the two individuals arrive into contact. And even then +the pulse and flow of attraction and recoil varies. In free wild life, +each touch brings about an intense recoil, and each recoil causes an +intense sympathetic attraction. So goes on the strange battle of +desire, until the consummation is reached. + +It is the precise parallel of what happens in a thunder-storm, when +the dynamic forces of the moon and the sun come into collision. The +result is threefold: first, the electric flash, then the birth of pure +water, new water. + +So it is in sex relation. There is a threefold result. First, the +flash of pure sensation and of real electricity. Then there is the +birth of an entirely new state of blood in each partner. And then +there is the liberation. + +But the main thing, as in the thunder-storm, is the absolute renewal +of the atmosphere: in this case, the blood. It would no doubt be found +that the electro-dynamic condition of the white and red corpuscles of +the blood was quite different after sex union, and that the chemical +composition of the fluid of the blood was quite changed. + +And in this renewal lies the great magic of sex. The life of an +individual goes on apparently the same from day to day. But as a +matter of fact there is an inevitable electric accumulation in the +nerves and the blood, an accumulation which weighs there and broods +there with intolerable pressure. And the only possible means of relief +and renewal is in pure passional interchange. There is and must be a +pure passional interchange from the upper self, as when men unite in +some great creative or religious or constructive activity, or as when +they fight each other to the death. The great goal of creative or +constructive activity, or of heroic victory in fight, _must_ always be +the goal of the daytime self. But the very possibility of such a goal +arises out of the vivid dynamism of the conscious blood. And the blood +in an individual finds its great renewal in a perfected sex circuit. + +A perfected sex circuit and a successful sex union. And there can be +no successful sex union unless the greater hope of purposive, +constructive activity fires the soul of the man all the time: or the +hope of passionate, purposive _destructive_ activity: the two amount +religiously to the same thing, within the individual. Sex as an end in +itself is a disaster: a vice. But an ideal purpose which has no roots +in the deep sea of passionate sex is a greater disaster still. And now +we have only these two things: sex as a fatal goal, which is the +essential theme of modern tragedy: or ideal purpose as a deadly +parasite. Sex passion as a goal in itself always leads to tragedy. +There must be the great purposive inspiration always present. But the +automatic ideal-purpose is not even a tragedy, it is a slow +humiliation and sterility. + +The great thing is to keep the sexes pure. And by pure we don't mean +an ideal sterile innocence and similarity between boy and girl. We +mean pure maleness in a man, pure femaleness in a woman. Woman is +really polarized downwards, towards the center of the earth. Her deep +positivity is in the downward flow, the moon-pull. And man is +polarized upwards, towards the sun and the day's activity. Women and +men are dynamically different, in everything. Even in the mind, where +we seem to meet, we are really utter strangers. We may speak the same +verbal language, men and women: as Turk and German might both speak +Latin. But _whatever_ a man says, his meaning is something quite +different and changed when it passes through a woman's ears. And +though you reverse the sexual polarity, the flow between the sexes, +still the difference is the same. The _apparent_ mutual understanding, +in companionship between a man and a woman, is always an illusion, +and always breaks down in the end. + +Woman can polarize her consciousness upwards. She can obtain a hand +even over her sex receptivity. She can divert even the electric spasm +of coition into her upper consciousness: it was the trick which the +snake and the apple between them taught her. The snake, whose +consciousness is _only_ dynamic, and non-cerebral. The snake, who has +no mental life, but only an intensely vivid dynamic mind, he envied +the human race its mental consciousness. And he knew, this intensely +wise snake, that the one way to make humanity pay more than the price +of mental consciousness was to pervert woman into mentality: to +stimulate her into the upper flow of consciousness. + +For the true polarity of consciousness in woman is downwards. Her +deepest consciousness is in the loins and belly. Even when perverted, +it is so. The great flow of female consciousness is downwards, down to +the weight of the loins and round the circuit of the feet. Pervert +this, and make a false flow upwards, to the breast and head, and you +get a race of "intelligent" women, delightful companions, tricky +courtesans, clever prostitutes, noble idealists, devoted friends, +interesting mistresses, efficient workers, brilliant managers, women +as good as men at all the manly tricks: and better, because they are +so very headlong once they go in for men's tricks. But then, after a +while, pop it all goes. The moment woman has got man's ideals and +tricks drilled into her, the moment she is competent in the manly +world--there's an end of it. She's had enough. She's had more than +enough. She hates the thing she has embraced. She becomes absolutely +perverse, and her one end is to prostitute herself and her ideals to +sex. Which is her business at the present moment. + +We bruise the serpent's head: his flat and brainless head. But his +revenge of bruising our heel is a good one. The heels, through which +the powerful downward circuit flows: these are bruised in us, numbed +with a horrible neurotic numbness. The dark strong flow that polarizes +us to the earth's center is hampered, broken. We become flimsy fungoid +beings, with no roots and no hold in the earth, like mushrooms. The +serpent has bruised our heel till we limp. The lame gods, the enslaved +gods, the toiling limpers moaning for the woman. You don't find the +sun and moon playing at pals in the sky. Their beams cross the great +gulf which is between them. + +So with man and woman. They must stand clear again. They must fight +their way out of their self-consciousness: there is nothing else. Or, +rather, each must fight the other out of self-consciousness. Instead +of this leprous forbearance which we are taught to practice in our +intimate relationships, there should be the most intense open +antagonism. If your wife flirts with other men, and you don't like it, +say so before them all, before wife and man and all, say you won't +have it. If she seems to you false, in any circumstance, tell her so, +angrily, furiously, and stop her. Never mind about being justified. If +you hate anything she does, turn on her in a fury. Harry her, and make +her life a hell, so long as the real hot rage is in you. Don't +silently hate her, or silently forbear. It is such a dirty trick, so +mean and ungenerous. If you feel a burning rage, turn on her and give +it to her, and _never_ repent. It'll probably hurt you much more than +it hurts her. But never repent for your real hot rages, whether +they're "justifiable" or not. If you care one sweet straw for the +woman, and if she makes you that you can't bear any more, give it to +her, and if your heart weeps tears of blood afterwards, tell her +you're thankful she's got it for once, and you wish she had it worse. + +The same with wives and their husbands. If a woman's husband gets on +her nerves, she should fly at him. If she thinks him too sweet and +smarmy with other people, she should let him have it to his nose, +straight out. She should lead him a dog's life, and never swallow her +bile. + +With wife or husband, you should never swallow your bile. It makes you +go all wrong inside. Always let fly, tooth and nail, and never repent, +no matter what sort of a figure you make. + +We have a vice of love, of softness and sweetness and smarminess and +intimacy and promiscuous kindness and all that sort of thing. We think +it's so awfully nice of us to be like that, in ourselves. But in our +wives or our husbands it gets on our nerves horribly. Yet we think it +oughtn't to, so we swallow our spleen. + +We shouldn't. When Jesus said "if thine eye offend thee, pluck it +out," he was beside the point. The eye doesn't really offend us. We +are rather fond of our own squint eye. It only offends the person who +cares for us. And it's up to this person to pluck it out. + +This holds particularly good of the love and intimacy vice. It'll +never offend us in ourselves. While it will be gall and wormwood to +our wife or husband. And it is on this promiscuous love and intimacy +and kindness and sweetness, all a vice, that our self-consciousness +really rests. If we are battered out of this, we shall be battered out +of self-consciousness. + +And so, men, drive your wives, beat them out of their +self-consciousness and their soft smarminess and good, lovely idea of +themselves. Absolutely tear their lovely opinion of themselves to +tatters, and make them look a holy ridiculous sight in their own eyes. +Wives, do the same to your husbands. + +But fight for your life, men. Fight your wife out of her own +self-conscious preoccupation with herself. Batter her out of it till +she's stunned. Drive her back into her own true mode. Rip all her nice +superimposed modern-woman and wonderful-creature garb off her. Reduce +her once more to a naked Eve, and send the apple flying. + +Make her yield to her own real unconscious self, and absolutely stamp +on the self that she's got in her head. Drive her forcibly back, back +into her own true unconscious. + +And then you've got a harder thing still to do. Stop her from looking +on you as her "lover." Cure her of that, if you haven't cured her +before. Put the fear of the Lord into her that way. And make her know +she's got to believe in you again, and in the deep purpose you stand +for. But before you can do that, you've got to _stand_ for some deep +purpose. It's no good faking one up. You won't take a woman in, not +really. Even when she _chooses_ to be taken in, for prettiness' sake, +it won't do you any good. + +But combat her. Combat her in her sexual pertinacity, and in her +secret glory or arrogance in the sexual goal. Combat her in her +cock-sure belief that she "knows" and that she is "right." Take it all +out of her. Make her yield once more to the male leadership: if you've +got anywhere to lead to. If you haven't, best leave the woman alone; +she has _one_ goal of her own, anyhow, and it's better than your +nullity and emptiness. + +You've got to take a new resolution into your soul, and break off from +the old way. You've got to know that you're a man, and being a man +means you must go on alone, ahead of the woman, to break a way through +the old world into the new. And you've got to be alone. And you've got +to start off ahead. And if you don't know which direction to take, +look round for the man your heart will point out to you. And +follow--and never look back. Because if Lot's wife, looking back, was +turned to a pillar of salt, these miserable men, for ever looking back +to their women for guidance, they are miserable pillars of half-rotten +tears. + +You'll have to fight to make a woman believe in you as a real man, a +real pioneer. No man is a man unless to his woman he is a pioneer. +You'll have to fight still harder to make her yield her goal to yours: +her night goal to your day goal. The moon, the planet of women, sways +us back from our day-self, sways us back from our real social unison, +sways us back, like a retreating tide, in a friction of criticism and +separation and social disintegration. That is woman's inevitable mode, +let her words be what they will. Her goal is the deep, sensual +individualism of secrecy and night-exclusiveness, hostile, with +guarded doors. And you'll have to fight very hard to make a woman +yield her goal to yours, to make her, in her own soul, _believe_ in +your goal as the goal beyond, in her goal as the way by which you go. +She'll never believe until you have your soul filled with a profound +and absolutely inalterable purpose, that will yield to nothing, least +of all to her. She'll never believe until, in your soul, you are cut +off and gone ahead, into the dark. + +She may of course already love you, and love you for yourself. But the +love will be a nest of scorpions unless it is overshadowed by a little +fear or awe of your further purpose, a living _belief_ in your going +beyond her, into futurity. + +But when once a woman _does_ believe in her man, in the pioneer which +he is, the pioneer who goes on ahead beyond her, into the darkness in +front, and who may be lost to her for ever in this darkness; when once +she knows the pain and beauty of this belief, knows that the +loneliness of waiting and following is inevitable, that it must be so; +ah, then, how wonderful it is! How wonderful it is to come back to +her, at evening, as she sits half in fear and waits! How good it is to +come home to her! How good it is then when the night falls! How richly +the evening passes! And then, for her, at last, all that she has lost +during the day to have it again between her arms, all that she has +missed, to have it poured out for her, and a richness and a wonder she +had never expected. It is her hour, her goal. That's what it is to +have a wife. + +Ah, how good it is to come home to your wife when she _believes_ in +you and submits to your purpose that is beyond her. Then, how +wonderful this nightfall is! How rich you feel, tired, with all the +burden of the day in your veins, turning home! Then you too turn to +your other goal: to the splendor of darkness between her arms. And you +know the goal is there for you: how rich that feeling is. And you feel +an unfathomable gratitude to the woman who loves you and believes in +your purpose and receives you into the magnificent dark gratification +of her embrace. That's what it is to have a wife. + +But no man ever had a wife unless he served a great predominant +purpose. Otherwise, he has a lover, a mistress. No matter how much she +may be married to him, unless his days have a living purpose, +constructive or destructive, but a purpose beyond her and all she +stands for; unless his days have this purpose, and his soul is really +committed to his purpose, she will not be a wife, she will be only a +mistress and he will be her lover. + +If the man has no purpose for his days, then to the woman alone +remains the goal of her nights: the great sex goal. And this goal is +no goal, but always cries for the something beyond: for the rising in +the morning and the going forth beyond, the man disappearing ahead +into the distance of futurity, that which his purpose stands for, the +future. The sex goal needs, absolutely needs, this further departure. +And if there _be_ no further departure, no great way of belief on +ahead: and if sex is the starting point and the goal as well: then sex +becomes like the bottomless pit, insatiable. It demands at last the +departure into death, the only available beyond. Like Carmen, or like +Anna Karenina. When sex is the starting point and the returning point +both, then the only issue is death. Which is plain as a pike-staff in +"Carmen" or "Anna Karenina," and is the theme of almost _all_ modern +tragedy. Our one hackneyed, hackneyed theme. Ecstasies and agonies of +love, and final passion of death. Death is the only pure, beautiful +conclusion of a great passion. Lovers, pure lovers should say "Let it +be so." + +And one is always tempted to say "Let it be so." But no, let it be not +so. Only I say this, let it be a great passion and then death, rather +than a false or faked purpose. Tolstoi said "No" to the passion and +the death conclusion. And then drew into the dreary issue of a false +conclusion. His books were better than his life. Better the woman's +goal, sex and death, than some _false_ goal of man's. + +Better Anna Karenina and Vronsky a thousand times than Natasha and +that porpoise of a Pierre. This pretty, slightly sordid couple tried +so hard to kid themselves that the porpoise Pierre was puffing with +great purpose. Better Vronsky than Tolstoi himself, in my mind. Better +Vronsky's final statement: "As a soldier I am still some good. As a +man I am a ruin"--better that than Tolstoi and Tolstoi-ism and that +beastly peasant blouse the old man wore. + +Better passion and death than any more of these "isms." No more of the +old purpose done up in aspic. Better passion and death. + +But still--we _might_ live, mightn't we? + +For heaven's sake answer plainly "No," if you feel like it. No good +temporizing. + + + + +EPILOGUE + + +"_Tutti i salmi finiscono in gloria._" + +All the psalms wind up with the Gloria.--"As it was in the beginning, +is now, and ever shall be, World without end. Amen." + +Well, then, Amen. + +I hope you say Amen! along with me, dear little reader: if there be +any dear little reader who has got so far. If not, I say Amen! all by +myself.--But don't you think the show is all over. I've got another +volume up my sleeve, and after a year or two years, when I have shaken +it down my sleeve, I shall bring it and lay it at the foot of your +Liberty statue, oh Columbia, as I do this one. + +I suppose Columbia means the States.--"Hail Columbia!"--I suppose, +etymologically, it is a nest of turtle-doves, Lat. _columba_, a dove. +Coo me softly, then, Columbia; don't roar me like the sucking doves of +the critics of my "Psychoanalysis and the Unconscious." + +And when I lay this little book at the foot of the Liberty statue, +that brawny lady is not to look down her nose and bawl: "Do you see +any green in my eye?" Of course I don't, dear lady. I only see the +reflection of that torch--or is it a carrot?--which you are holding up +to light the way into New York harbor. Well, many an ass has strayed +across the uneasy paddock of the Atlantic, to nibble your carrot, dear +lady. And I must say, you can keep on slicing off nice little +carrot-slices of guineas and doubloons for an extraordinarily +inexhaustible long time. And innumerable asses can collect themselves +nice little heaps of golden carrot-slices, and then lift up their +heads and brag over them with fairly pan-demoniac yells of +gratification. Of course I don't see any green in your eye, dear +Libertas, unless it is the smallest glint from the carrot-tips. The +gleam in your eye is golden, oh Columbia! + +Nevertheless, and in spite of all this, up trots this here little ass +and makes you a nice present of this pretty book. You needn't sniff, +and glance at your carrot-sceptre, lady Liberty. You needn't throw +down the thinnest carrot-paring you can pare off, and then say: "Why +should I pay for this tripe, this wordy mass of rather revolting +nonsense!" You can't pay for it, darling. If I didn't make you a +present of it you could never buy it. So don't shake your +carrot-sceptre and feel supercilious. Here's a gift for you, Missis. +You can look in its mouth, too. Mind it doesn't bite you.--No, you +needn't bother to put your carrot behind your back, nobody wants to +snatch it. + +How do you do, Columbia! Look, I brought you a posy: this nice little +posy of words and wisdom which I made for you in the woods of +Ebersteinburg, on the borders of the Black Forest, near Baden Baden, +in Germany, in this summer of scanty grace but nice weather. I made it +specially for you--Whitman, for whom I have an immense regard, says +"These States." I suppose I ought to say: "Those States." If the +publisher would let me, I'd dedicate this book to you, to "Those +States." Because I wrote this book entirely for you, Columbia. You may +not take it as a compliment. You may even smell a tiny bit of +Schwarzwald sap in it, and be finally disgusted. I admit that trees +ought to think twice before they flourish in such a disgraced place as +the Fatherland. "_Chi va coi zoppi, all' anno zoppica._" But you've +not only to gather ye rosebuds while ye may, but _where_ ye may. And +so, as I said before, the Black Forest, etc. + +I know, Columbia, dear Libertas, you'll take my posy and put your +carrot aside for a minute, and smile, and say: "I'm sure, Mr. +Lawrence, it is a _long_ time since I had such a perfectly beautiful +bunch of ideas brought me." And I shall blush and look sheepish and +say: "So glad you think so. I believe you'll find they'll keep fresh +quite a long time, if you put them in water." Whereupon you, Columbia, +with real American gallantry: "Oh, they'll keep for _ever_, Mr. +Lawrence. They _couldn't_ be so cruel as to go and die, such perfectly +lovely-colored ideas. Lovely! Thank you ever, ever so much." + +Just think of it, Columbia, how pleased we shall be with one another: +and how much nicer it will be than if you snorted "High-falutin' +Nonsense"--or "Wordy mass of repulsive rubbish." + +When they were busy making Italy, and were just going to put it in +the oven to bake: that is, when Garibaldi and Vittorio Emmanuele had +won their victories at Caserta, Naples prepared to give them a +triumphant entry. So there sat the little king in his carriage: he had +short legs and huge swagger mustaches and a very big bump of +philoprogeniture. The town was all done up, in spite of the rain. And +down either side of the wide street were hasty statues of large, +well-fleshed ladies, each one holding up a fore-finger. We don't know +what the king thought. But the staff held their breath. The king's +appetite for strapping ladies was more than notorious, and naturally +it looked as if Naples had done it on purpose. + +As a matter of fact, the fore-finger meant _Italia Una_! "Italy shall +be one." Ask Don Sturzo. + +Now you see how risky statues are. How many nice little asses and +poets trot over the Atlantic and catch sight of Liberty holding up +this carrot of desire at arm's length, and fairly hear her say, as one +does to one's pug dog, with a lump of sugar: "Beg! Beg!"--and "Jump! +Jump, then!" And each little ass and poodle begins to beg and to jump, +and there's a rare game round about Liberty, zap, zap, zapperty-zap! + +Do lower the carrot, gentle Liberty, and let us talk nicely and +sensibly. I don't like you as a _carotaia_, precious. + +Talking about the moon, it is thrilling to read the announcements of +Professor Pickering of Harvard, that it's almost a dead cert that +there's life on our satellite. It is almost as certain that there's +life on the moon as it is certain there is life on Mars. The professor +bases his assertions on photographs--hundreds of photographs--of a +crater with a circumference of thirty-seven miles. I'm not satisfied. +I demand to know the yards, feet and inches. You don't come it over me +with the triteness of these round numbers. + +"Hundreds of photographic reproductions have proved irrefutably the +springing up at dawn, with an unbelievable rapidity, of vast fields of +foliage which come into blossom just as rapidly (sic!) and which +disappear in a maximum period of eleven days."--Again I'm not +satisfied. I want to know if they're cabbages, cress, mustard, or +marigolds or dandelions or daisies. Fields of foliage, mark you. And +_blossom_! Come now, if you can get so far, Professor Pickering, you +might have a shrewd guess as to whether the blossoms are good to eat, +or if they're purely for ornament. + +I am only waiting at last for an aeroplane to land on one of these +fields of foliage and find a donkey grazing peacefully. Hee-haw! + +"The plates moreover show that great blizzards, snow-storms, and +volcanic eruptions are also frequent." So no doubt the blossoms are +edelweiss. + +"We find," says the professor, "a living world at our very doors where +life in some respects resembles that of Mars." All I can say is: +"Pray come in, Mr. Moony. And how is your cousin Signor Martian?" + +Now I'm sure Professor Pickering's photographs and observations are +really wonderful. But his _explanations_! Come now, Columbia, where is +your High-falutin' Nonsense trumpet? Vast fields of foliage which +spring up at dawn (!!!) and come into blossom just as quickly (!!!!) +are rather too flowery even for my flowery soul. But there, truth is +stranger than fiction. + +I'll bet my moon against the Professor's, anyhow. + +So long, Columbia. _A riverderci._ + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FANTASIA OF THE UNCONSCIOUS*** + + +******* This file should be named 20654-8.txt or 20654-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/0/6/5/20654 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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H. Lawrence</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + a[name] { position:absolute; } + a:link {color:#0000ff; background-color:#FFFFFF; + text-decoration:none; } + a:visited {color:#0000ff; background-color:#FFFFFF; + text-decoration:none; } + a:hover { color:#ff0000; background-color:#FFFFFF; } + + table { width:80%; padding: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + .tocch { text-align: right; vertical-align: top;} + .tocpg {text-align: right; vertical-align: bottom;} +.f1 { font-size:smaller; } +.sig { margin-left:5%; } + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + font-style:normal; + } /* page numbers */ + + + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-top: + 0.3em; margin-right: 0.25em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + + hr.full { width: 100%; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + height: 4px; + border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ + border-style: solid; + border-color: #000000; + clear: both; } + pre {font-size: 80%;} + + // --> + + /* XML end ]]>*/ + + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Fantasia of the Unconscious, by D. H. Lawrence</h1> +<pre> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: Fantasia of the Unconscious</p> +<p>Author: D. H. Lawrence</p> +<p>Release Date: February 24, 2007 [eBook #20654]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FANTASIA OF THE UNCONSCIOUS***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>E-text prepared by Michael Ciesielski, Sankar Viswanathan,<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net/c/)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h1>FANTASIA</h1> + +<h3>of the</h3> + +<h1>UNCONSCIOUS</h1> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h3>BY</h3> +<h2>D. H. LAWRENCE</h2> +<p> </p> +<div class="center"><img src="images/image_001.jpg" alt="Seal" width="150" height="99" /></div> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h4>NEW YORK</h4> +<h3>THOMAS SELTZER</h3> +<h4>1922</h4> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p class="center f1">Copyright, 1922, by<br /> + +<span class="smcap">Thomas Seltzer, Inc.</span> +</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + + + + + + + + + +<table summary="Contents"> +<tr><td class="tocch f1">CHAPTER</td><td></td><td class="tocpg f1">PAGE</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td><span class="smcap"><a href="#FORWARD">Foreword</a></span></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_vii">vii</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td class="tocch">I.</td><td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">Introduction</a></span></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tocch">II.</td><td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">The Holy Family</a></span></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_14">14</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tocch">III.</td><td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">Plexuses, Planes and So On</a></span></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_29">29</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tocch">IV.</td><td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">Trees and Babies and Papas and Mamas</a></span></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_42">42</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tocch">V.</td><td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">The Five Senses</a></span></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_64">64</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tocch">VI.</td><td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">First Glimmerings of Mind</a></span></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_85">85</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tocch">VII.</td><td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">First Steps in Education</a></span></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_101">101</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tocch">VIII.</td><td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">Education and Sex in Man, Woman and Child</a></span></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_119">119</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tocch">IX.</td><td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">The Birth of Sex</a></span></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_140">140</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tocch">X.</td><td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">Parent Love</a></span></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_164">164</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tocch">XI.</td><td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">The Vicious Circle</a></span></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_185">185</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tocch">XII.</td><td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">Litany of Exhortations</a></span></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_209">209</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tocch">XIII.</td><td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">Cosmological</a></span></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_214">214</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tocch">XIV.</td><td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">Sleep and Dreams</a></span></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_234">234</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tocch">XV.</td><td><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">The Lower Self</a></span></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_263">263</a></td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td><span class="smcap"><a href="#EPILOGUE">Epilogue</a></span></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_291">291</a></td></tr> +</table> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[vii]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="FORWARD" id="FORWARD"></a>FORWARD +</h2> + +<p>The present book is a continuation from "Psychoanalysis and the +Unconscious." The generality of readers had better just leave it +alone. The generality of critics likewise. I really don't want to +convince anybody. It is quite in opposition to my whole nature. I +don't intend my books for the generality of readers. I count it a +mistake of our mistaken democracy, that every man who can read print +is allowed to believe that he can read all that is printed. I count it +a misfortune that serious books are exposed in the public market, like +slaves exposed naked for sale. But there we are, since we live in an +age of mistaken democracy, we must go through with it.</p> + +<p>I warn the generality of readers, that this present book will seem to +them only a rather more revolting mass of wordy nonsense than the +last. I would warn the generality of critics to throw it in the waste +paper basket without more ado.</p> + +<p>As for the limited few, in whom one must per<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[viii]</a></span> force find an answerer, I +may as well say straight off that I stick to the solar plexus. That +statement alone, I hope, will thin their numbers considerably.</p> + +<p>Finally, to the remnants of a remainder, in order to apologize for the +sudden lurch into cosmology, or cosmogony, in this book, I wish to say +that the whole thing hangs inevitably together. I am not a scientist. +I am an amateur of amateurs. As one of my critics said, you either +believe or you don't.</p> + +<p>I am not a proper archæologist nor an anthropologist nor an +ethnologist. I am no "scholar" of any sort. But I am very grateful to +scholars for their sound work. I have found hints, suggestions for +what I say here in all kinds of scholarly books, from the Yoga and +Plato and St. John the Evangel and the early Greek philosophers like +Herakleitos down to Fraser and his "Golden Bough," and even Freud and +Frobenius. Even then I only remember hints—and I proceed by +intuition. This leaves you quite free to dismiss the whole wordy mass +of revolting nonsense, without a qualm.</p> + +<p>Only let me say, that to my mind there is a great field of science +which is as yet quite closed to us. I refer to the science which +proceeds in <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[ix]</a></span> terms of life and is established on data of living +experience and of sure intuition. Call it subjective science if you +like. Our objective science of modern knowledge concerns itself only +with phenomena, and with phenomena as regarded in their +cause-and-effect relationship. I have nothing to say against our +science. It is perfect as far as it goes. But to regard it as +exhausting the whole scope of human possibility in knowledge seems to +me just puerile. Our science is a science of the dead world. Even +biology never considers life, but only mechanistic functioning and +apparatus of life.</p> + +<p>I honestly think that the great pagan world of which Egypt and Greece +were the last living terms, the great pagan world which preceded our +own era once, had a vast and perhaps perfect science of its own, a +science in terms of life. In our era this science crumbled into magic +and charlatanry. But even wisdom crumbles.</p> + +<p>I believe that this great science previous to ours and quite different +in constitution and nature from our science once was universal, +established all over the then-existing globe. I believe it was +esoteric, invested in a large priesthood. Just as mathematics and +mechanics and physics are defined and expounded in the same <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[x]</a></span> way in +the universities of China or Bolivia or London or Moscow to-day, so, +it seems to me, in the great world previous to ours a great science +and cosmology were taught esoterically in all countries of the globe, +Asia, Polynesia, America, Atlantis and Europe. Belt's suggestion of +the geographical nature of this previous world seems to me most +interesting. In the period which geologists call the Glacial Period, +the waters of the earth must have been gathered up in a vast body on +the higher places of our globe, vast worlds of ice. And the sea-beds +of to-day must have been comparatively dry. So that the Azores rose up +mountainous from the plain of Atlantis, where the Atlantic now washes, +and the Easter Isles and the Marquesas and the rest rose lofty from +the marvelous great continent of the Pacific.</p> + +<p>In that world men lived and taught and knew, and were in one complete +correspondence over all the earth. Men wandered back and forth from +Atlantis to the Polynesian Continent as men now sail from Europe to +America. The interchange was complete, and knowledge, science was +universal over the earth, cosmopolitan as it is to-day.</p> + +<p>Then came the melting of the glaciers, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">[xi]</a></span> the world flood. The +refugees from the drowned continents fled to the high places of +America, Europe, Asia, and the Pacific Isles. And some degenerated +naturally into cave men, neolithic and paleolithic creatures, and some +retained their marvelous innate beauty and life-perfection, as the +South Sea Islanders, and some wandered savage in Africa, and some, +like Druids or Etruscans or Chaldeans or Amerindians or Chinese, +refused to forget, but taught the old wisdom, only in its +half-forgotten, symbolic forms. More or less forgotten, as knowledge: +remembered as ritual, gesture, and myth-story.</p> + +<p>And so, the intense potency of symbols is part at least memory. And so +it is that all the great symbols and myths which dominate the world +when our history first begins, are very much the same in every country +and every people, the great myths all relate to one another. And so it +is that these myths now begin to hypnotize us again, our own impulse +towards our own scientific way of understanding being almost spent. +And so, besides myths, we find the same mathematic figures, cosmic +graphs which remain among the aboriginal peoples in all continents, +mystic figures and signs whose true cosmic or scientific significance +is lost, yet which continue <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xii" id="Page_xii">[xii]</a></span> in use for purposes of conjuring or +divining.</p> + +<p>If my reader finds this bosh and abracadabra, all right for him. Only +I have no more regard for his little crowings on his own little +dunghill. Myself, I am not so sure that I am one of the +one-and-onlies. I like the wide world of centuries and vast +ages—mammoth worlds beyond our day, and mankind so wonderful in his +distances, his history that has no beginning yet always the pomp and +the magnificence of human splendor unfolding through the earth's +changing periods. Floods and fire and convulsions and ice-arrest +intervene between the great glamorous civilizations of mankind. But +nothing will ever quench humanity and the human potentiality to evolve +something magnificent out of a renewed chaos.</p> + +<p>I do not believe in evolution, but in the strangeness and +rainbow-change of ever-renewed creative civilizations.</p> + +<p>So much, then, for my claim to remarkable discoveries. I believe I am +only trying to stammer out the first terms of a forgotten knowledge. +But I have no desire to revive dead kings, or dead sages. It is not +for me to arrange fossils, and decipher hieroglyphic phrases. I +couldn't do it if I wanted to. But then I can do some <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xiii" id="Page_xiii">[xiii]</a></span> thing else. The +soul must take the hint from the relics our scientists have so +marvelously gathered out of the forgotten past, and from the hint +develop a new living utterance. The spark is from dead wisdom, but the +fire is life.</p> + +<p>And as an example—a very simple one—of how a scientist of the most +innocent modern sort may hint at truths which, when stated, he would +laugh at as fantastic nonsense, let us quote a word from the already +old-fashioned "Golden Bough." "It must have appeared to the ancient +Aryan that the sun was periodically recruited from the fire which +resided in the sacred oak."</p> + +<p>Exactly. The fire which resided in the Tree of Life. That is, life +itself. So we must read: "It must have appeared to the ancient Aryan +that the sun was periodically recruited from life."—Which is what the +early Greek philosophers were always saying. And which still seems to +me the real truth, the clue to the cosmos. Instead of life being drawn +from the sun, it is the emanation from life itself, that is, from all +the living plants and creatures which nourish the sun.</p> + +<p>Of course, my dear critic, the ancient Aryans were just doddering—the +old duffers: or babbling, the babes. But as for me, I have some <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xiv" id="Page_xiv">[xiv]</a></span> +respect for my ancestors, and believe they had more up their sleeve +than just the marvel of the unborn me.</p> + +<p>One last weary little word. This pseudo-philosophy of +mine—"pollyanalytics," as one of my respected critics might say—is +deduced from the novels and poems, not the reverse. The novels and poems +come unwatched out of one's pen. And then the absolute need which one has +for some sort of satisfactory mental attitude towards oneself and things in +general makes one try to abstract some definite conclusions from one's +experiences as a writer and as a man. The novels and poems are pure +passionate experience. These "pollyanalytics" are inferences made +afterwards, from the experience.</p> + +<p>And finally, it seems to me that even art is utterly dependent on +philosophy: or if you prefer it, on a metaphysic. The metaphysic or +philosophy may not be anywhere very accurately stated and may be quite +unconscious, in the artist, yet it is a metaphysic that governs men at +the time, and is by all men more or less comprehended, and lived. Men +live and see according to some gradually developing and gradually +withering vision. This vision exists also as a dynamic idea or +metaphysic—exists first as <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xv" id="Page_xv">[xv]</a></span> such. Then it is unfolded into life and +art. Our vision, our belief, our metaphysic is wearing woefully thin, +and the art is wearing absolutely threadbare. We have no future; +neither for our hopes nor our aims nor our art. It has all gone gray +and opaque.</p> + +<p>We've got to rip the old veil of a vision across, and find what the +heart really believes in, after all: and what the heart really wants, +for the next future. And we've got to put it down in terms of belief +and of knowledge. And then go forward again, to the fulfillment in +life and art.</p> + +<p>Rip the veil of the old vision across, and walk through the rent. And +if I try to do this—well, why not? If I try to write down what I +see—why not? If a publisher likes to print the book—all right. And +if anybody wants to read it, let him. But why anybody should read one +single word if he doesn't want to, I don't see. Unless of course he is +a critic who needs to scribble a dollar's worth of words, no matter +how.</p> + +<p class="sig"><span class="smcap">Taormina</span></p> + +<p class="sig f1">October 8, 1921</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>FANTASIA OF THE UNCONSCIOUS</h2> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3>INTRODUCTION</h3> + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_l.jpg" alt="L" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>et us start by making a little apology to Psychoanalysis. It wasn't +fair to jeer at the psychoanalytic unconscious; or perhaps it <i>was</i> +fair to jeer at the psychoanalytic unconscious, which is truly a +negative quantity and an unpleasant menagerie. What was really not +fair was to jeer at Psychoanalysis as if Freud had invented and +described nothing but an unconscious, in all his theory.</p> + +<p>The unconscious is not, of course, the clue to the Freudian theory. +The real clue is sex. A sexual motive is to be attributed to all human +activity.</p> + +<p>Now this is going too far. We are bound to admit than an element of +sex enters into all human activity. But so does an element <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span>of greed, +and of many other things. We are bound to admit that into all human +relationships, particularly adult human relationships, a large +element of sex enters. We are thankful that Freud has insisted on this. +We are thankful that Freud pulled us somewhat to earth, out of all our +clouds of superfineness. What Freud says is always <i>partly</i> true. And +half a loaf is better than no bread.</p> + +<p>But really, there is the other half of the loaf. All is <i>not</i> sex. And +a sexual motive is <i>not</i> to be attributed to all human activities. We +know it, without need to argue.</p> + +<p>Sex surely has a specific meaning. Sex means the being divided into +male and female; and the magnetic desire or impulse which puts male +apart from female, in a negative or sundering magnetism, but which +also draws male and female together in a long and infinitely varied +approach towards the critical act of coition. Sex without the +consummating act of coition is never quite sex, in human +relationships: just as a eunuch is never quite a man. That is to say, +the act of coition is the essential clue to sex.</p> + +<p>Now does all life work up to the one consummating act of coition? In +one direction, it does, and it would be better if psychoanalysis +plainly said so. In one direction, all life works up to the one +supreme moment of coition. Let us all admit it, sincerely.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span></p> + + +<p>But we are not confined to one direction only, or to one exclusive +consummation. Was the building of the cathedrals a working up towards +the act of coition? Was the dynamic impulse sexual? No. The sexual +element was present, and important. But not predominant. The same in +the building of the Panama Canal. The sexual impulse, in its widest +form, was a very great impulse towards the building of the Panama +Canal. But there was something else, of even higher importance, and +greater dynamic power.</p> + +<p>And what is this other, greater impulse? It is the desire of the human +male to build a world: not "to build a world for you, dear"; but to +build up out of his own self and his own belief and his own effort +something wonderful. Not merely something useful. Something wonderful. +Even the Panama Canal would never have been built <i>simply</i> to let +ships through. It is the pure disinterested craving of the human male +to make something wonderful, out of his own head and his own self, and +his own soul's faith and delight, which starts everything going. This +is the prime motivity. And the motivity of sex is subsidiary to this: +often directly antagonistic.</p> + +<p>That is, the essentially religious or creative +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span>motive is the first motive for all human activity. The sexual +motive comes second. And there is a great conflict between the +interests of the two, at all times.</p> + +<p>What we want to do, is to trace the creative or religious motive to +its source in the human being, keeping in mind always the near +relationship between the religious motive and the sexual. The two +great impulses are like man and wife, or father and son. It is no use +putting one under the feet of the other.</p> + +<p>The great desire to-day is to deny the religious impulse altogether, +or else to assert its absolute alienity from the sexual impulse. The +orthodox religious world says faugh! to sex. Whereupon we thank Freud +for giving them tit for tat. But the orthodox scientific world says +fie! to the religious impulse. The scientist wants to discover a cause +for everything. And there is no cause for the religious impulse. Freud +is with the scientists. Jung dodges from his university gown into a +priest's surplice till we don't know where we are. We prefer Freud's +<i>Sex</i> to Jung's <i>Libido</i> or Bergson's <i>Elan Vital</i>. Sex has at least +<i>some</i> definite reference, though when Freud makes sex accountable for +everything he as good as makes it accountable for nothing.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span></p> + +<p>We refuse any <i>Cause</i>, whether it be Sex or Libido or Elan Vital or +ether or unit of force or <i>perpetuum mobile</i> or anything else. But +also we feel that we cannot, like Moses, perish on the top of our +present ideal Pisgah, or take the next step into thin air. There we +are, at the top of our Pisgah of ideals, crying <i>Excelsior</i> and trying +to clamber up into the clouds: that is, if we are idealists with the +religious impulse rampant in our breasts. If we are scientists we +practice aeroplane flying or eugenics or disarmament or something +equally absurd.</p> + +<p>The promised land, if it be anywhere, lies away beneath our feet. No +more prancing upwards. No more uplift. No more little Excelsiors +crying world-brotherhood and international love and Leagues of +Nations. Idealism and materialism amount to the same thing on top of +Pisgah, and the space is <i>very</i> crowded. We're all cornered on our +mountain top, climbing up one another and standing on one another's +faces in our scream of Excelsior.</p> + +<p>To your tents, O Israel! Brethren, let us go down. We will descend. +The way to our precious Canaan lies obviously downhill. An end of +uplift. Downhill to the land of milk and honey. The blood will soon be +flowing faster<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span> than either, but we can't help that. We can't help it +if Canaan has blood in its veins, instead of pure milk and honey.</p> + +<p>If it is a question of origins, the origin is always the same, +whatever we say about it. So is the cause. Let that be a comfort to +us. If we want to talk about God, well, we can please ourselves. God +has been talked about quite a lot, and He doesn't seem to mind. Why we +should take it so personally is a problem. Likewise if we wish to have +a tea party with the atom, let us: or with the wriggling little unit +of energy, or the ether, or the Libido, or the Elan Vital, or any +other Cause. Only don't let us have sex for tea. We've all got too +much of it under the table; and really, for my part, I prefer to keep +mine there, no matter what the Freudians say about me.</p> + +<p>But it is tiring to go to any more tea parties with the Origin, or the +Cause, or even the Lord. Let us pronounce the mystic Om, from the pit +of the stomach, and proceed.</p> + +<p>There's not a shadow of doubt about it, the First Cause is just +unknowable to us, and we'd be sorry if it wasn't. Whether it's God or +the Atom. All I say is Om!</p> + +<p>The first business of every faith is to declare its ignorance. I don't +know where I come from—nor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> where I exit to. I don't know the origins +of life nor the goal of death. I don't know how the two parent cells +which are my biological origin became the me which I am. I don't in +the least know what those two parent cells were. The chemical analysis +is just a farce, and my father and mother were just vehicles. And yet, +I must say, since I've got to know about the two cells, I'm glad I do +know.</p> + +<p>The Moses of Science and the Aaron of Idealism have got the whole +bunch of us here on top of Pisgah. It's a tight squeeze, and we'll be +falling very, very foul of one another in five minutes, unless some of +us climb down. But before leaving our eminence let us have a look +round, and get our bearings.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span></p><p>They say that way lies the New Jerusalem of universal love: and over +there the happy valley of indulgent Pragmatism: and there, quite near, is +the chirpy land of the Vitalists: and in those dark groves the home of +successful Analysis, surnamed Psycho: and over those blue hills the +Supermen are prancing about, though you can't see them. And there is +Besantheim, and there is Eddyhowe, and there, on that queer little +tableland, is Wilsonia, and just round the corner is Rabindranathopolis....</p> + +<p>But Lord, I can't see anything. Help me, heaven, to a telescope, for I +see blank nothing.</p> + +<p>I'm not going to try any more. I'm going to sit down on my posterior +and sluther full speed down this Pisgah, even if it cost me my trouser +seat. So ho!—away we go.</p> + +<p>In the beginning—there never was any beginning, but let it pass. +We've got to make a start somehow. In the very beginning of all +things, time and space and cosmos and being, in the beginning of all +these was a little living creature. But I don't know even if it was +little. In the beginning was a living creature, its plasm quivering +and its life-pulse throbbing. This little creature died, as little +creatures always do. But not before it had had young ones. When the +daddy creature died, it fell to pieces. And that was the beginning of +the cosmos. Its little body fell down to a speck of dust, which the +young ones clung to because they must cling to something. Its little +breath flew asunder, the hotness and brightness of the little beast—I +beg your pardon, I mean the radiant energy from the corpse flew away +to the right hand, and seemed to shine warm in the air, while the +clammy energy from the body flew away to the left hand, and seemed +dark and cold. And so, the first little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> master was dead and done for, +and instead of his little living body there was a speck of dust in the +middle, which became the earth, and on the right hand was a brightness +which became the sun, rampaging with all the energy that had come out +of the dead little master, and on the left hand a darkness which felt +like an unrisen moon. And that was how the Lord created the world. +Except that I know nothing about the Lord, so I shouldn't mention it.</p> + +<p>But I forgot the soul of the little master. It probably did a bit of +flying as well—and then came back to the young ones. It seems most +natural that way.</p> + +<p>Which is my account of the Creation. And I mean by it, that Life is +not and never was anything but living creatures. That's what life is +and will be just living creatures, no matter how large you make the +capital L. Out of living creatures the material cosmos was made: out +of the death of living creatures, when their little living bodies fell +dead and fell asunder into all sorts of matter and forces and +energies, sun, moons, stars and worlds. So you got the universe. Where +you got the living creature from, that first one, don't ask me. He was +just there. But<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> he was a little person with a soul of his own. He +wasn't Life with a capital L.</p> + +<p>If you don't believe me, then don't. I'll even give you a little song +to sing.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"If it be not true to me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What care I how true it be . ."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>That's the kind of man I really like, chirping his insouciance. And I +chirp back:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Though it be not true to thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It's gay and gospel truth to me. . ."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The living live, and then die. They pass away, as we know, to dust and +to oxygen and nitrogen and so on. But what we don't know, and what we +might perhaps know a little more, is how they pass away direct into +life itself—that is, direct into the living. That is, how many dead +souls fly over our untidiness like swallows and build under the eaves +of the living. How many dead souls, like swallows, twitter and breed +thoughts and instincts under the thatch of my hair and the eaves of my +forehead, I don't know. But I believe a good many. And I hope they +have a good time. And I hope not too many are bats.</p> + +<p>I am sorry to say I believe in the souls of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> dead. I am almost +ashamed to say, that I believe the souls of the dead in some way +reënter and pervade the souls of the living: so that life is always +the life of living creatures, and death is always our affair. This +bit, I admit, is bordering on mysticism. I'm sorry, because I don't +like mysticism. It has no trousers and no trousers seat: <i>n'a pas de +quoi</i>. And I should feel so uncomfortable if I put my hand behind me +and felt an absolute blank.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile a long, thin, brown caterpillar keeps on pretending to be a +dead thin beech-twig, on a little bough at my feet. He had got his +hind feet and his fore feet on the twig, and his body looped up like +an arch in the air between, when a fly walked up the twig and began to +mount the arch of the imitator, not having the least idea that it was +on a gentleman's coat-tails. The caterpillar shook his stern, and the +fly made off as if it had seen a ghost. The dead twig and the live +twig now remain equally motionless, enjoying their different ways. And +when, with this very pencil, I push the head of the caterpillar off +from the twig, he remains on his tail, arched forward in air, and +oscillating unhappily, like some tiny pendulum ticking. Ticking, +ticking in mid-air, arched away from his planted tail.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> Till at last, +after a long minute and a half, he touches the twig again, and +subsides into twigginess. The only thing is, the dead beech-twig can't +pretend to be a wagging caterpillar. Yet how the two commune! +However—we have our exits and our entrances, and one man in his time +plays many parts. More than he dreams of, poor darling. And I am +entirely at a loss for a moral!</p> + +<p>Well, then, we are born. I suppose that's a safe statement. And we +become at once conscious, if we weren't so before. <i>Nem con.</i> And our +little baby body is a little functioning organism, a little developing +machine or instrument or organ, and our little baby mind begins to +stir with all our wonderful psychical beginnings. And so we are in +bud.</p> + +<p>But it won't do. It is too much of a Pisgah sight. We overlook too +much. <i>Descendez, cher Moïse. Vous voyez trop loin.</i> You see too far +all at once, dear Moses. Too much of a bird's-eye view across the +Promised Land to the shore. Come down, and walk across, old fellow. +And you won't see all that milk and honey and grapes the size of +duck's eggs. All the dear little budding infant with its tender +virginal mind and various clouds of glory instead of a napkin. Not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> at +all, my dear chap. No such luck of a promised land.</p> + +<p>Climb down, Pisgah, and go to Jericho. <i>Allons</i>, there is no road yet, +but we are all Aarons with rods of our own.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3>THE HOLY FAMILY</h3> + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_w.jpg" alt="W" width="65" height="50" /></div> +<p>e are all very pleased with Mr. Einstein for knocking that eternal +axis out of the universe. The universe isn't a spinning wheel. It is a +cloud of bees flying and veering round. Thank goodness for that, for +we were getting drunk on the spinning wheel.</p> + +<p>So that now the universe has escaped from the pin which was pushed +through it, like an impaled fly vainly buzzing: now that the multiple +universe flies its own complicated course quite free, and hasn't got +any hub, we can hope also to escape.</p> + +<p>We won't be pinned down, either. We have no one law that governs us. +For me there is only one law: <i>I am I.</i> And that isn't a law, it's +just a remark. One is one, but one is not all alone. There are other +stars buzzing in the center of their own isolation. And there is no +straight path between them. There is no straight path between you and +me, dear reader,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> so don't blame me if my words fly like dust into +your eyes and grit between your teeth, instead of like music into your +ears. I am I, but also you are you, and we are in sad need of a theory +of human relativity. We need it much more than the universe does. The +stars know how to prowl round one another without much damage done. +But you and I, dear reader, in the first conviction that you are me +and that I am you, owing to the oneness of mankind, why, we are always +falling foul of one another, and chewing each other's fur.</p> + +<p>You are <i>not</i> me, dear reader, so make no pretentions to it. Don't get +alarmed if <i>I</i> say things. It isn't your sacred mouth which is opening +and shutting. As for the profanation of your sacred ears, just apply a +little theory of relativity, and realize that what I say is not what +you hear, but something uttered in the midst of my isolation, and +arriving strangely changed and travel-worn down the long curve of your +own individual circumambient atmosphere. I may say Bob, but heaven +alone knows what the goose hears. And you may be sure that a red rag +is, to a bull, something far more mysterious and complicated than a +socialist's necktie.</p> + +<p>So I hope now I have put you in your place,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> dear reader. Sit you like +Watts' Hope on your own little blue globe, and I'll sit on mine, and +we won't bump into one another if we can help it. You can twang your +old hopeful lyre. It may be music to you, so I don't blame you. It is +a terrible wowing in my ears. But that may be something in my +individual atmosphere; some strange deflection as your music crosses +the space between us. Certainly I never hear the concert of World +Regeneration and Hope Revived Again without getting a sort of +lock-jaw, my teeth go so keen on edge from the twanging harmony. +Still, the world-regenerators may <i>really</i> be quite excellent +performers on their own jews'-harps. Blame the edginess of my teeth.</p> + +<p>Now I am going to launch words into space so mind your cosmic eye.</p> + +<p>As I said in my small but naturally immortal book, "Psychoanalysis and +the Unconscious," there's more in it than meets the eye. There's more +in you, dear reader, than meets the eye. What, don't you believe it? +Do you think you're as obvious as a poached egg on a piece of toast, +like the poor lunatic? Not a bit of it, dear reader. You've got a +solar plexus, and a lumbar ganglion not far from your liver, and I'm +going to tell everybody. Nothing brings a man home to himself like +telling everybody. And I <i>will</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> drive you home to yourself, do you +hear? You've been poaching in my private atmospheric grounds long +enough, identifying yourself with me and me with everybody. A nice row +there'd be in heaven if Aldebaran caught Sirius by the tail and said, +"Look here, you're not to look so green, you damm dog-star! It's an +offense against star-regulations."</p> + +<p>Which reminds me that the Arabs say the shooting stars, meteorites, +are starry stones which the angels fling at the poaching demons whom +they catch sight of prowling too near the palisades of heaven. I must +say I like Arab angels. My heaven would coruscate like a catherine +wheel, with white-hot star-stones. Away, you dog, you prowling +cur.—Got him under the left ear-hole, Gabriel—! See him, see him, +Michael? That hopeful blue devil! Land him one! Biff on your bottom, +you hoper.</p> + +<p>But I wish the Arabs wouldn't entice me, or you, dear reader, provoke +me to this. I feel with you, dear reader, as I do with a deaf-man when +he pushes his vulcanite ear, his listening machine, towards my mouth. +I want to shout down the telephone ear-hole all kinds of improper +things, to see what effect they will have on the stupid dear face at +the end of the coil of wire.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> After all, words must be very different +after they've trickled round and round a long wire coil. Whatever +becomes of them! And I, who am a bit deaf myself, and may in the end +have a deaf-machine to poke at my friends, it ill becomes me to be so +unkind, yet that's how I feel. So there we are.</p> + +<p>Help me to be serious, dear reader.</p> + +<p>In that little book, "Psychoanalysis and the Unconscious," I tried +rather wistfully to convince you, dear reader, that you had a solar +plexus and a lumbar ganglion and a few other things. I don't know why +I took the trouble. If a fellow doesn't believe he's got a nose, the +best way to convince him is gently to waft a little pepper into his +nostrils. And there was I painting my own nose purple, and wistfully +inviting you to look and believe. No more, though.</p> + +<p>You've got first and foremost a solar plexus, dear reader; and the +solar plexus is a great nerve center which lies behind your stomach. I +can't be accused of impropriety or untruth, because any book of +science or medicine which deals with the nerve-system of the human +body will show it to you quite plainly. So don't wriggle or try to +look spiritual. Because, willy-nilly, you've got a solar plexus, dear +reader, among<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> other things. I'm writing a good sound science book, +which there's no gainsaying.</p> + +<p>Now, your solar plexus, most gentle of readers, is where you are you. +It is your first and greatest and deepest center of consciousness. If +you want to know <i>how</i> conscious and <i>when</i> conscious, I must refer +you to that little book, "Psychoanalysis and the Unconscious."</p> + +<p>At your solar plexus you are primarily conscious: there, behind you +stomach. There you have the profound and pristine conscious awareness +that you are you. Don't say you haven't. I know you have. You might as +well try to deny the nose on your face. There is your first and +deepest seat of awareness. There you are triumphantly aware of your +own individual existence in the universe. Absolutely there is the keep +and central stronghold of your triumphantly-conscious self. There you +<i>are</i>, and you know it. So stick out your tummy gaily, my dear, with a +<i>Me voilà</i>. With a <i>Here I am!</i> With an <i>Ecco mi!</i> With a <i>Da bin +ich!</i> There you are, dearie.</p> + +<p>But not only a triumphant awareness that <i>There you are</i>. An exultant +awareness also that outside this quiet gate, this navel, lies a whole +universe on which you can lay tribute. Aha—at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> birth you closed the +central gate for ever. Too dangerous to leave it open. Too near the +quick. But there are other gates. There are eyes and mouths and ears +and nostrils, besides the two lower gates of the passionate body, and +the closed but not locked gates of the breasts. Many gates. And +besides the actual gates, the marvelous wireless communication between +the great center and the surrounding or contiguous world.</p> + +<p>Authorized science tells you that this first great plexus, this +all-potent nerve-center of consciousness and dynamic life-activity is +a sympathetic center. From the solar plexus as from your castle-keep +you look around and see the fair lands smiling, the corn and fruit and +cattle of your increase, the cottages of your dependents and the halls +of your beloveds. From the solar plexus you know that all the world is +yours, and all is goodly.</p> + +<p>This is the great center, where in the womb, your life first sparkled +in individuality. This is the center that drew the gestating maternal +blood-stream upon you, in the nine-months lurking, drew it on you for +your increase. This is the center whence the navel-string broke, but +where the invisible string of dynamic conscious<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span>ness, like a dark +electric current connecting you with the rest of life, will never +break until you die and depart from corporate individuality.</p> + +<p>They say, by the way, that doctors now perform a little operation on +the born baby, so that no more navel shows. No more belly-buttons, +dear reader! Lucky I caught you this generation, before the doctors +had saved your appearances. Yet, <i>caro mio</i>, whether it shows or not, +there you once had immediate connection with the maternal +blood-stream. And, because the male nucleus which derived from the +father still lies sparkling and potent within the solar plexus, +therefore that great nerve-center of you, still has immediate +knowledge of your father, a subtler but still vital connection. We +call it the tie of blood. So be it. It is a tie of blood. But much +more definite than we imagine. For true it is that the one bright male +germ which went to your begetting was drawn from the blood of the +father. And true it is that that same bright male germ lies unquenched +and unquenchable at the center of you, within the famous solar plexus. +And furthermore true is it that this unquenched father-spark within +you sends forth vibrations and dark currents of vital activity all the +time; connecting direct with your<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> father. You will never be able to +get away from it while you live.</p> + +<p>The connection with the mother may be more obvious. Is there not your +ostensible navel, where the rupture between you and her took place? +But because the mother-child relation is more plausible and flagrant, +is that any reason for supposing it deeper, more vital, more +intrinsic? Not a bit. Because if the large parent mother-germ still +lives and acts vividly and mysteriously in the great fused nucleus of +your solar plexus, does the smaller, brilliant male-spark that derived +from your father act any less vividly? By no means. It is +different—it is less ostensible. It may be even in magnitude smaller. +But it may be even more vivid, even more intrinsic. So beware how you +deny the father-quick of yourself. You may be denying the most +intrinsic quick of all.</p> + +<p>In the same way it follows that, since brothers and sisters have the +same father and mother, therefore in every brother and sister there is +a direct communication such as can never happen between strangers. The +parent nuclei do not die within the new nucleus. They remain there, +marvelous naked sparkling dynamic life-centers, nodes, well-heads of +vivid life itself. Therefore<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> in every individual the parent nuclei +live, and give direction connection, blood connection we call it, with +the rest of the family. It <i>is</i> blood connection. For the fecundating +nuclei are the very spark-essence of the blood. And while life lives +the parent nuclei maintain their own centrality and dynamic +effectiveness within the solar plexus of the child. So that every +individual has mother and father both sparkling within himself.</p> + +<p>But this is rather a preliminary truth than an intrinsic truth. The +intrinsic truth of every individual is the new unit of unique +individuality which emanates from the fusion of the parent nuclei. +This is the incalculable and intangible Holy Ghost each time—each +individual his own Holy Ghost. When, at the moment of conception, the +two parent nuclei fuse to form a new unit of life, then takes place +the great mystery of creation. A new individual appears—not the +result of the fusion merely. Something more. The quality of +individuality cannot be derived. The new individual, in his singleness +of self, is a perfectly new whole. He is not a permutation and +combination of old elements, transferred through the parents. No, he +is something underived and utterly unprecedented, unique, a new soul.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span></p> + +<p>This quality of pure individuality is, however, only the one supreme +quality. It consummates all other qualities, but does not consume +them. All the others are there, all the time. And only at his maximum +does an individual surpass all his derivative elements, and become +purely himself. And most people never get there. In his own pure +individuality a man surpasses his father and mother, and is utterly +unknown to them. "Woman, what have I to do with thee?" But this does +not alter the fact that within him lives the mother-quick and the +father-quick, and that though in his wholeness he is rapt away beyond +the old mother-father connections, they are still there within him, +consummated but not consumed. Nor does it alter the fact that very few +people surpass their parents nowadays, and attain any individuality +beyond them. Most men are half-born slaves: the little soul they are +born with just atrophies, and merely the organism emanates, the new +self, the new soul, the new swells into manhood, like big potatoes.</p> + +<p>So there we are. But considering man at his best, he is at the start +faced with the great problem. At the very start he has to undertake +his tripartite being, the mother within him, the father within him, +and the Holy Ghost, the self<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> which he is supposed to consummate, and +which mostly he doesn't.</p> + +<p>And there it is, a hard physiological fact. At the moment of our +conception, the father nucleus fuses with the mother nucleus, and the +wonder emanates, the new self, the new soul, the new individual cell. +But in the new individual cell the father-germ and the mother-germ do +not relinquish their identity. There they remain still, incorporated +and never extinguished. And so, the blood-stream of race is one +stream, for ever. But the moment the mystery of pure individual +newness ceased to be enacted and fulfilled, the blood-stream would dry +up and be finished. Mankind would die out.</p> + +<p>Let us go back then to the solar plexus. There sparkle the included +mother-germ and father-germ, giving us direct, immediate blood-bonds, +family connection. The connection is as direct and as subtle as +between the Marconi stations, two great wireless stations. A family, +if you like, is a group of wireless stations, all adjusted to the +same, or very much the same vibration. All the time they quiver with +the interchange, there is one long endless flow of vitalistic +communication between members of one family, a long, strange +<i>rapport</i>, a sort of life-unison. It is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> a ripple of life through many +bodies as through one body. But all the time there is the jolt, the +rupture of individualism, the individual asserting himself beyond all +ties or claims. The highest goal for every man is the goal of pure +individual being. But it is a goal you cannot reach by the mere +rupture of all ties. A child isn't born by being torn from the womb. +When it is born by natural process that is rupture enough. But even +then the ties are not broken. They are only subtilized.</p> + +<p>From the solar plexus first of all pass the great vitalistic +communications between child and parents, the first interplay of +primal, pre-mental knowledge and sympathy. It is a great subtle +interplay, and from this interplay the child is built up, body and +psyche. Impelled from the primal conscious center in the abdomen, the +child seeks the mother, seeks the breast, opens a blind mouth and +gropes for the nipple. Not mentally directed and yet certainly +directed. Directed from the dark pre-mind center of the solar plexus. +From this center the child seeks, the mother knows. Hence the true +mindlessness of the pristine, healthy mother. She does not need to +think, mentally to know. She knows so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> profoundly and actively at the +great abdominal life-center.</p> + +<p>But if the child thus seeks the mother, does it then know the mother +alone? To an infant the mother is the whole universe. Yet the child +needs more than the mother. It needs as well the presence of men, the +vibration from the present body of the man. There may not be any +actual, palpable connection. But from the great voluntary center in +the man pass unknowable communications and unreliable nourishment of +the stream of manly blood, rays which we cannot see, and which so far +we have refused to know, but none the less essential, quickening dark +rays which pass from the great dark abdominal life-center in the +father to the corresponding center in the child. And these rays, these +vibrations, are not like the mother-vibrations. Far, far from it. They +do not need the actual contact, the handling and the caressing. On the +contrary, the true male instinct is to avoid physical contact with a +baby. It may not need even actual presence. But present or absent, +there should be between the baby and the father that strange, +intangible communication, that strange pull and circuit such as the +magnetic pole exercises upon a needle, a vitalistic pull and flow +which lays all the life<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span>-plasm of the baby into the line of vital +quickening, strength, knowing. And any lack of this vital circuit, +this vital interchange between father and child, man and child, means +an inevitable impoverishment to the infant.</p> + +<p>The child exists in the interplay of two great life-waves, the womanly +and the male. In appearance, the mother is everything. In truth, the +father has actively very little part. It does not matter much if he +hardly sees his child. Yet see it he should, sometimes, and touch it +sometimes, and renew with it the connection, the life-circuit, not +allow it to lapse, and so vitally starve his child.</p> + +<p>But remember, dear reader, please, that there is not the slightest +need for you to believe me, or even read me. Remember, it's just your +own affair. Don't implicate me.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h3>PLEXUSES, PLANES AND SO ON</h3> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> + +<p>he primal consciousness in man is pre-mental, and has nothing to do +with cognition. It is the same as in the animals. And this pre-mental +consciousness remains as long as we live the powerful root and body of +our consciousness. The mind is but the last flower, the <i>cul de sac</i>.</p> + +<p>The first seat of our primal consciousnesses the solar plexus, the +great nerve-center situated behind the stomach. From this center we +are first dynamically conscious. For the primal consciousness is +always dynamic, and never, like mental consciousness, static. Thought, +let us say what we will about its magic powers, is instrumental only, +the soul's finest instrument for the business of living. Thought is +just a means to action and living. But life and action take rise +actually at the great centers of dynamic consciousness.</p> + +<p>The solar plexus, the greatest and most impor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span>tant center of our +dynamic consciousness, is a sympathetic center. At this main center of +your first-mind we know as we can never mentally know. Primarily we +know, each man, each living creature knows, profoundly and +satisfactorily and without question, that <i>I am I.</i> This root of all +knowledge and being is established in the solar plexus; it is dynamic, +pre-mental knowledge, such as cannot be transferred into thought. Do +not ask me to transfer the pre-mental dynamic knowledge into thought. +It cannot be done. The knowledge that <i>I am I</i> can never be thought: +only known.</p> + +<p>This being the very first term of our life-knowledge, a knowledge +established physically and psychically the moment the two parent +nuclei fused, at the moment of the conception, it remains integral as +a piece of knowledge in every subsequent nucleus derived from this one +original. But yet the original nucleus, formed from the two parent +nuclei at our conception, remains always primal and central, and is +always the original fount and home of the first and supreme knowledge +that <i>I am I.</i> This original nucleus is embodied in the solar plexus.</p> + +<p>But the original nucleus divides. The first division, as science +knows, is a division of recoil.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> From the perfect oneing of the two +parent nuclei in the egg-cell results a recoil or new assertion. That +which was perfect <i>one</i> now divides again, and in the recoil becomes +again two.</p> + +<p>This second nucleus, the nucleus born of recoil, is the nuclear origin +of all the great nuclei of the voluntary system, which are the nuclei +of assertive individualism. And it remains central in the adult human +body as it was in the egg-cell. In the adult human body the first +nucleus of independence, first-born from the great original nucleus of +our conception, lies always established in the lumbar ganglion. Here +we have our positive center of independence, in a multifarious +universe.</p> + +<p>At the solar plexus, the dynamic knowledge is this, that <i>I am I.</i> The +solar plexus is the center of all the sympathetic system. The great +prime knowledge is sympathetic in nature. I am I, in vital centrality. +I am I, the vital center of all things. I am I, the clew to the whole. +All is one with me. It is the one identity.</p> + +<p>But at the lumbar ganglion, which is the center of separate identity, +the knowledge is of a different mode, though the term is the same. At +the lumbar ganglion I know that I am I, in distinction from a whole +universe, which is not as I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> am. This is the first tremendous flash of +knowledge of singleness and separate identity. I am I, not because I +am at one with all the universe, but because I am other than all the +universe. It is my distinction from all the rest of things which makes +me myself. Because I am set utterly apart and distinguished from all +that is the rest of the universe, therefore <i>I am I.</i> And this root of +our knowledge in separateness lies rooted all the time in the lumbar +ganglion. It is the second term of our dynamic psychic existence.</p> + +<p>It is from the great sympathetic center of the solar plexus that the +child rejoices in the mother and in its own blissful centrality, its +unison with the as yet unknown universe. Look at the pictures of +Madonna and Child, and you will even <i>see</i> it. It is from this center +that it draws all things unto itself, winningly, drawing love for the +soul, and actively drawing in milk. The same center controls the great +intake of love and of milk, of psychic and of physical nourishment.</p> + +<p>And it is from the great voluntary center of the lumbar ganglion that +the child asserts its distinction from the mother, the single identity +of its own existence, and its power over its surroundings. From this +center issues the violent little pride and lustiness which kicks with +glee,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> or crows with tiny exultance in its own being, or which claws +the breast with a savage little rapacity, and an incipient +masterfulness of which every mother is aware. This incipient mastery, +this sheer joy of a young thing in its own single existence, the +marvelous playfulness of early youth, and the roguish mockery of the +mother's love, as well as the bursts of temper and rage, all belong to +infancy. And all this flashes spontaneously, <i>must</i> flash +spontaneously from the first great center of independence, the +powerful lumbar ganglion, great dynamic center of all the voluntary +system, of all the spirit of pride and joy in independent existence. +And it is from this center too that the milk is urged away down the +infant bowels, urged away towards excretion. The motion is the same, +but here it applies to the material, not to the vital relation. It is +from the lumbar ganglion that the dynamic vibrations are emitted which +thrill from the stomach and bowels, and promote the excremental +function of digestion. It is the solar plexus which controls the +assimilatory function in digestion.</p> + +<p>So, in the first division of the egg-cell is set up the first plane of +psychic and physical life, remaining radically the same throughout the +whole existence of the individual. The two<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> original nuclei of the +egg-cell remain the same two original nuclei within the corpus of the +adult individual. Their psychic and their physical dynamic is the same +in the solar plexus and lumbar ganglion as in the two nuclei of the +egg-cell. The first great division in the egg remains always the same, +the unchanging great division in the psychic and the physical +structure; the unchanging great division in knowledge and function. It +is a division into polarized duality, psychical and physical, of the +human being. It is the great vertical division of the egg-cell, and of +the nature of man.</p> + +<p>Then, this division having taken place, there is a new thrill of +conjunction or collision between the divided nuclei, and at once the +second birth takes place. The two nuclei now split horizontally. There +is a horizontal division across the whole egg-cell, and the nuclei are +now four, two above, and two below. But those below retain their +original nature, those above are new in nature. And those above +correspond again to those below.</p> + +<p>In the developed child, the great horizontal division of the egg-cell, +resulting in four nuclei, this remains the same. The horizontal +division-wall is the diaphragm. The two upper nuclei<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> are the two +great nerve-centers, the cardiac plexus and the thoracic ganglion. We +have again a sympathetic center primal in activity and knowledge, and +a corresponding voluntary center. In the center of the breast, the +cardiac plexus acts as the great sympathetic mode of new dynamic +activity, new dynamic consciousness. And near the spine, by the wall +of the shoulders, the thoracic ganglion acts as the powerful voluntary +center of separateness and power, in the same vertical line as the +lumbar ganglion, but horizontally so different.</p> + +<p>Now we must change our whole feeling. We must put off the deep way of +understanding which belongs to the lower body of our nature, and +transfer ourselves into the upper plane, where being and functioning +are different.</p> + +<p>At the cardiac plexus, there in the center of the breast, we have now +a new great sun of knowledge and being. Here there is no more of self. +Here there is no longer the dark, exultant knowledge that <i>I am I.</i> A +change has come. Here I know no more of myself. Here I am not. Here I +only know the delightful revelation that you are you. The wonder is no +longer within me, my own dark, centrifugal, exultant self. The wonder +is without me. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> wonder is outside me. And I can no longer exult +and know myself the dark, central sun of the universe. Now I look with +wonder, with tenderness, with joyful yearning towards that which is +outside me, beyond me, not me. Behold, that which was once negative +has now become the only positive. The other being is now the great +positive reality, I myself am as nothing. Positivity has changed +places.</p> + +<p>If we want to see the portrayed look, then we must turn to the North, +to the fair, wondering, blue-eyed infants of the Northern masters. +They seem so frail, so innocent and wondering, touching outwards to +the mystery. They are not the same as the Southern child, nor the +opposite. Their whole life mystery is different. Instead of +consummating all things within themselves, as the dark little Southern +infants do, the Northern Jesus-children reach out delicate little +hands of wondering innocence towards delicate, flower-reverential +mothers. Compare a Botticelli Madonna, with all her wounded and +abnegating sensuality, with a Hans Memling Madonna, whose soul is pure +and only reverential. Beyond me is the mystery and the glory, says the +Northern mother: let me have no self, let me only seek that which is +all-pure, all-wonderful. But the South<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span>ern mother says: This is mine, +this is mine, this is my child, my wonder, my master, my lord, my +scourge, my own.</p> + +<p>From the cardiac plexus the child goes forth in bliss. It seeks the +revelation of the unknown. It wonderingly seeks the mother. It opens +its small hands and spreads its small fingers to touch her. And bliss, +bliss, bliss, it meets the wonder in mid-air and in mid-space it finds +the loveliness of the mother's face. It opens and shuts its little +fingers with bliss, it laughs the wonderful, selfless laugh of pure +baby-bliss, in the first ecstasy of finding all its treasure, groping +upon it and finding it in the dark. It opens wide, child-wide eyes to +see, to see. But it cannot see. It is puzzled, it wrinkles its face. +But when the mother puts her face quite near, and laughs and coos, +then the baby trembles with an ecstasy of love. The glamour, the +wonder, the treasure beyond. The great uplift of rapture. All this +surges from that first center of the breast, the sun of the breast, +the cardiac plexus.</p> + +<p>And from the same center acts the great function of the heart and +breath. Ah, the aspiration, the aspiration, like a hope, like a +yearning constant and unfailing with which we take in breath. When we +breathe, when we take in breath, it is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> not as when we take in food. +When we breathe in we aspire, we yearn towards the heaven of air and +light. And when the heart dilates to draw in the stream of dark blood, +it opens its arms as to a beloved. It dilates with reverent joy, as a +host opening his doors to an honored guest, whom he delights to serve: +opening his doors to the wonder which comes to him from beyond, and +without which he were nothing.</p> + +<p>So it is that our heart dilates, our lungs expand. They are bidden by +that great and mysterious impulse from the cardiac plexus, which bids +them seek the mystery and the fulfillment of the beyond. They seek the +beyond, the air of the sky, the hot blood from the dark under-world. +And so we live.</p> + +<p>And then, they relax, they contract. They are driven by the opposite +motion from the powerful voluntary center of the thoracic ganglion.. +That which was drawn in, was invited, is now relinquished, allowed to +go forth, negatively. Not positively dismissed, but relinquished.</p> + +<p>There is a wonderful complementary duality between the voluntary and +the sympathetic activity on the same plane. But between the two +planes, upper and lower, there is a further dualism, still more +startling, perhaps. Between the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> dark, glowing first term of knowledge +at the solar plexus: <i>I am I, all is one in me</i>; and the first term of +volitional knowledge: <i>I am myself, and these others are not as I +am</i>;—there is a world of difference. But when the world changes +again, and on the upper plane we realize the wonder of other things, +the difference is almost shattering. The thoracic ganglion is a +ganglion of power. When the child in its delicate bliss seeks the +mother and finds her and is added on to her, then it fulfills itself +in the great upper sympathetic mode. But then it relinquishes her. It +ceases to be aware of her. And if she tries to force its love to play +upon her again, like light revealing her to herself, then the child +turns away. Or it will lie, and look at her with the strange, odd, +curious look of knowledge, like a little imp who is spying her out. +This is the curious look that many mothers cannot bear. Involuntarily +it arouses a sort of hate in them—the look of scrutinizing curiosity, +apart, and as it were studying, balancing them up. Yet it is a look +which comes into every child's eyes. It is the reaction of the great +voluntary plexus between the shoulders. The mother is suddenly set +apart, as an object of curiosity, coldly, some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span>times dreamily, +sometimes puzzled, sometimes mockingly observed.</p> + +<p>Again, if a mother neglect her child, it cries, it weeps for her love +and attention. Its pitiful lament is one of the forms of compulsion +from the upper center. This insistence on pity, on love, is quite +different from the rageous weeping, which is compulsion from the lower +center, below the diaphragm. Again, some children just drop everything +they can lay hands on over the edge of their crib, or their table. +They drop everything out of sight. And then they look up with a +curious look of negative triumph. This is again a form of recoil from +the upper center, the obliteration of the thing which is outside. And +here a child is acting quite differently from the child who joyously +<i>smashes</i>. The desire to smash comes from the lower centers.</p> + +<p>We can quite well recognize the will exerted from the lower center. We +call it headstrong temper and masterfulness. But the peculiar will of +the upper center—the sort of nervous, critical objectivity, the +deliberate forcing of sympathy, the play upon pity and tenderness, the +plaintive bullying of love, or the benevolent bullying of love—these +we don't care to recognize. They are the extravagance of spiritual<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> +<i>will</i>. But in its true harmony the thoracic ganglion is a center of +happier activity: of real, eager curiosity, of the delightful desire +to pick things to pieces, and the desire to put them together again, +the desire to "find out," and the desire to invent: all this arises on +the upper plane, at the volitional center of the thoracic ganglion.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h3>TREES AND BABIES AND PAPAS AND MAMAS</h3> + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_o.jpg" alt="O" width="50" height="50" /></div> +<p>h, damn the miserable baby with its complicated ping-pong table of an +unconscious. I'm sure, dear reader, you'd rather have to listen to the +brat howling in its crib than to me expounding its plexuses. As for +"mixing those babies up," I'd mix him up like a shot if I'd anything +to mix him with. Unfortunately he's my own anatomical specimen of a +pickled rabbit, so there's nothing to be done with the bits.</p> + +<p>But he gets on my nerves. I come out solemnly with a pencil and an +exercise book, and take my seat in all gravity at the foot of a large +fir-tree, and wait for thoughts to come, gnawing like a squirrel on a +nut. But the nut's hollow.</p> + +<p>I think there are too many trees. They seem to crowd round and stare +at me, and I feel as if they nudged one another when I'm not looking. +I can <i>feel</i> them standing there. And they won't let me get on about +the baby this morning. Just their cussedness. I felt they encouraged +me like a harem of wonderful silent wives, yesterday.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span></p> + +<p>It is half rainy too—the wood so damp and still and so secret, in the +remote morning air. Morning, with rain in the sky, and the forest +subtly brooding, and me feeling no bigger than a pea-bug between the +roots of my fir. The trees seem so much bigger than me, so much +stronger in life, prowling silent around. I seem to feel them moving +and thinking and prowling, and they overwhelm me. Ah, well, the only +thing is to give way to them.</p> + +<p>It is the edge of the Black Forest—sometimes the Rhine far off, on +its Rhine plain, like a bit of magnesium ribbon. But not to-day. +To-day only trees, and leaves, and vegetable presences. Huge straight +fir-trees, and big beech-trees sending rivers of roots into the +ground. And cuckoos, like noise falling in drops off the leaves. And +me, a fool, sitting by a grassy wood-road with a pencil and a book, +hoping to write more about that baby.</p> + +<p>Never mind. I listen again for noises, and I smell the damp moss. The +looming trees, so straight. And I listen for their silence. Big, +tall-bodied trees, with a certain magnificent cruelty about them. Or +barbarity. I don't know why I should say cruelty. Their magnificent, +strong, round bodies! It almost seems I can hear<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> the slow, powerful +sap drumming in their trunks. Great full-blooded trees, with strange +tree-blood in them, soundlessly drumming.</p> + +<p>Trees that have no hands and faces, no eyes. Yet the powerful +sap-scented blood roaring up the great columns. A vast individual +life, and an overshadowing will. The will of a tree. Something that +frightens you.</p> + +<p>Suppose you want to look a tree in the face? You can't. It hasn't got +a face. You look at the strong body of a trunk: you look above you +into the matted body-hair of twigs and boughs: you see the soft green +tips. But there are no eyes to look into, you can't meet its gaze. You +keep on looking at it in part and parcel.</p> + +<p>It's no good looking at a tree, to know it. The only thing is to sit +among the roots and nestle against its strong trunk, and not bother. +That's how I write all about these planes and plexuses, between the +toes of a tree, forgetting myself against the great ankle of the +trunk. And then, as a rule, as a squirrel is stroked into its +wickedness by the faceless magic of a tree, so am I usually stroked +into forgetfulness, and into scribbling this book. My tree-book, +really.</p> + +<p>I come so well to understand tree-worship. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span>All the old Aryans +worshiped the tree. My ancestors. The tree of life. The tree of +knowledge. Well, one is bound to sprout out some time or other, chip +of the old Aryan block. I can so well understand tree-worship. And +fear the deepest motive.</p> + +<p>Naturally. This marvelous vast individual without a face, without lips +or eyes or heart. This towering creature that never had a face. Here +am I between his toes like a pea-bug, and him noiselessly +over-reaching me. And I feel his great blood-jet surging. And he has +no eyes. But he turns two ways. He thrusts himself tremendously down +to the middle earth, where dead men sink in darkness, in the damp, +dense under-soil, and he turns himself about in high air. Whereas we +have eyes on one side of our head only, and only grow upwards.</p> + +<p>Plunging himself down into the black humus, with a root's gushing +zest, where we can only rot dead; and his tips in high air, where we +can only look up to. So vast and powerful and exultant in his two +directions. And all the time, he has no face, no thought: only a huge, +savage, thoughtless soul. Where does he even keep his soul?—Where +does anybody?</p> + +<p>A huge, plunging, tremendous soul. I would like to be a tree for a +while. The great lust of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> roots. Root-lust. And no mind at all. He +towers, and I sit and feel safe. I like to feel him towering round me. +I used to be afraid. I used to fear their lust, their rushing black +lust. But now I like it, I worship it. I always felt them huge +primeval enemies. But now they are my only shelter and strength. I +lose myself among the trees. I am so glad to be with them in their +silent, intent passion, and their great lust. They feed my soul. But I +can understand that Jesus was crucified on a tree.</p> + +<p>And I can so well understand the Romans, their terror of the bristling +Hercynian wood. Yet when you look from a height down upon the rolling +of the forest—this Black Forest—it is as suave as a rolling, oily +sea. Inside only, it bristles horrific. And it terrified the Romans.</p> + +<p>The Romans! They too seem very near. Nearer than Hindenburg or Foch or +even Napoleon. When I look across the Rhine plain, it is Rome, and the +legionaries of the Rhine that my soul notices. It must have been +wonderful to come from South Italy to the shores of this sea-like +forest: this dark, moist forest, with its enormously powerful +intensity of tree life. Now I know, coming myself from rock-dry +Sicily, open to the day.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Romans and the Greeks found everything human. Everything had a +face, and a human voice. Men spoke, and their fountains piped an +answer.</p> + +<p>But when the legions crossed the Rhine they found a vast impenetrable +life which had no voice. They met the faceless silence of the Black +Forest. This huge, huge wood did not answer when they called. Its +silence was too crude and massive. And the soldiers shrank: shrank +before the trees that had no faces, and no answer. A vast array of +non-human life, darkly self-sufficient, and bristling with indomitable +energy. The Hercynian wood, not to be fathomed. The enormous power of +these collective trees, stronger in their somber life even than Rome.</p> + +<p>No wonder the soldiers were terrified. No wonder they thrilled with +horror when, deep in the woods, they found the skulls and trophies of +their dead comrades upon the trees. The trees had devoured them: +silently, in mouthfuls, and left the white bones. Bones of the mindful +Romans—and savage, preconscious trees, indomitable. The true German +has something of the sap of trees in his veins even now: and a sort of +pristine savageness, like trees, helpless, but most powerful, under +all his mentality. He is a tree-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span>soul, and his gods are not human. His +instinct still is to nail skulls and trophies to the sacred tree, deep +in the forest. The tree of life and death, tree of good and evil, tree +of abstraction and of immense, mindless life; tree of everything +except the spirit, spirituality.</p> + +<p>But after bone-dry Sicily, and after the gibbering of myriad people +all rattling their personalities, I am glad to be with the profound +indifference of faceless trees. Their rudimentariness cannot know why +we care for the things we care for. They have no faces, no minds and +bowels: only deep, lustful roots stretching in earth, and vast, +lissome life in air, and primeval individuality. You can sacrifice the +whole of your spirituality on their altar still. You can nail your +skull on their limbs. They have no skulls, no minds nor faces, they +can't make eyes of love at you. Their vast life dispenses with all +this. But they will live you down.</p> + +<p>The normal life of one of these big trees is about a hundred years. So +the Herr Baron told me.</p> + +<p>One of the few places that my soul will haunt, when I am dead, will be +this. Among the trees here near Ebersteinburg, where I have been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> +alone and written this book. I can't leave these trees. They have +taken some of my soul.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Excuse my digression, gentle reader. At first I left it out, thinking +we might not see wood for trees. But it doesn't much matter what we +see. It's nice just to look round, anywhere.</p> + +<p>So there are two planes of being and consciousness and two modes of +relation and of function. We will call the lower plane the sensual, +the upper the spiritual. The terms may be unwise, but we can think of +no other.</p> + +<p>Please read that again, dear reader; you'll be a bit dazzled, coming +out of the wood.</p> + +<p>It is obvious that from the time a child is born, or conceived, it has +a permanent relation with the outer universe, relation in the two +modes, not one mode only. There are two ways of love, two ways of +activity and independence. And there needs some sort of equilibrium +between the two modes. In the same way, in physical function there is +eating and drinking, and excrementation, on the lower plane and +respiration and heartbeat on the upper plane.</p> + +<p>Now the equilibrium to be established is fourfold. There must be a +true equilibrium between what we eat and what we reject again by +excre<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span>tion: likewise between the systole and diastole of the heart, +the inspiration and expiration of our breathing. Suffice to say the +equilibrium is never quite perfect. Most people are either too fat or +too thin, too hot or too cold, too slow or too quick. There is no such +thing as an <i>actual</i> norm, a living norm. A norm is merely an +abstraction, not a reality.</p> + +<p>The same on the psychical plane. We either love too much, or impose +our will too much, are too spiritual or too sensual. There is not and +cannot be any actual norm of human conduct. All depends, first, on the +unknown inward need within the very nuclear centers of the individual +himself, and secondly on his circumstance. Some men <i>must</i> be too +spiritual, some <i>must</i> be too sensual. Some <i>must</i> be too sympathetic, +and some <i>must</i> be too proud. We have no desire to say what men +<i>ought</i> to be. We only wish to say there are all kinds of ways of +being, and there is no such thing as human perfection. No man can be +anything more than just himself, in genuine living relation to all his +surroundings. But that which <i>I</i> am, when I am myself, will certainly +be anathema to those who hate individual integrity, and want to swarm. +And that which I, being myself, am in myself, may make the hair<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> +bristle with rage on a man who is also himself, but very different +from me. Then let it bristle. And if mine bristle back again, then let +us, if we must, fly at one another like two enraged men. It is how it +should be. We've got to learn to live from the center of our own +responsibility only, and let other people do the same.</p> + +<p>To return to the child, however, and his development on his two planes +of consciousness. There is all the time a direct dynamic connection +between child and mother, child and father also, from the start. It is +a connection on two planes, the upper and lower. From the lower +sympathetic center the profound intake of love or vibration from the +living co-respondent outside. From the upper sympathetic center the +outgoing of devotion and the passionate vibration of <i>given</i> love, +given attention. The two sympathetic centers are always, or should +always be, counterbalanced by their corresponding voluntary centers. +From the great voluntary ganglion of the lower plane, the child is +self-willed, independent, and masterful.</p> + +<p>In the activity of this center a boy refuses to be kissed and pawed +about, maintaining his proud independence like a little wild animal. +From this center he likes to command and to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> receive obedience. From +this center likewise he may be destructive and defiant and reckless, +determined to have his own way at any cost.</p> + +<p>From this center, too, he learns to use his legs. The motion of +walking, like the motion of breathing, is twofold. First, a +sympathetic cleaving to the earth with the foot: then the voluntary +rejection, the spurning, the kicking away, the exultance in power and +freedom.</p> + +<p>From the upper voluntary center the child watches persistently, +wilfully, for the attention of the mother: to be taken notice of, to +be caressed, in short to exist in and through the mother's attention. +From this center, too, he coldly refuses to notice the mother, when +she insists on too much attention. This cold refusal is different from +the active rejection of the lower center. It is passive, but cold and +negative. It is the great force of our day. From the ganglion of the +shoulders, also, the child breathes and his heart beats. From the same +center he learns the first use of his arms. In the gesture of +sympathy, from the upper plane, he embraces his mother with his arms. +In the motion of curiosity, or interest, which derives from the +thoracic ganglion, he spreads his fingers, touches, feels, ex<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span>plores. +In the motion of rejection he drops an undesired object deliberately +out of sight.</p> + +<p>And then, when the four centers of what we call the first <i>field</i> of +consciousness are fully active, then it is that the eyes begin to +gather their sight, the mouth to speak, the ears to awake to their +intelligent hearings; all as a result of the great fourfold activity +of the first dynamic field of consciousness. And then also, as a +result, the mind wakens to its impressions and to its incipient +control. For at first the control is non-mental, even non-cerebral. +The brain acts only as a sort of switchboard.</p> + +<p>The business of the father, in all this incipient child-development, +is to stand outside as a final authority and make the necessary +adjustments. Where there is too much sympathy, then the great +voluntary centers of the spine are weak, the child tends to be +delicate. Then the father by instinct supplies the roughness, the +sternness which stiffens in the child the centers of resistance and +independence, right from the very earliest days. Often, for a mere +infant, it is the father's fierce or stern presence, the vibration of +his voice, which starts the frictional and independent activity of the +great voluntary ganglion<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> and gives the first impulse to the +independence which later on is life itself.</p> + +<p>But on the other hand, the father, from his distance, supports, +protects, nourishes his child, and it is ultimately on the remote but +powerful father-love that the infant rests, in a rest which is beyond +mother-love. For in the male the dominant centers are naturally the +volitional centers, centers of responsibility, authority, and care.</p> + +<p>It is the father's business, again, to maintain some sort of +equilibrium between the two modes of love in his infant. A mother may +wish to bring up her child from the lovely upper centers only, from +the centers of the breast, in the mode of what we call pure or +spiritual love. Then the child will be all gentle, all tender and +tender-radiant, always enfolded with gentleness and forbearance, +always shielded from grossness or pain or roughness. Now the father's +instinct is to be rough and crude, good-naturedly brutal with the +child, calling the deeper centers, the sensual centers, into play. +"What do you want? My watch? Well, you can't have it, do you see, +because it's mine." Not a lot of explanations of the "You see, +darling." No such nonsense.—Or if a child wails unnecessarily for its +mother, the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> father must be the check. "Stop your noise, you little +brat! What ails you, you whiner?" And if children be too sensitive, +too sympathetic, then it will do the child no harm if the father +occasionally throws the cat out of the window, or kicks the dog, or +raises a storm in the house. Storms there must be. And if the child is +old enough and robust enough, it can occasionally have its bottom +soundly spanked—by the father, if the mother refuses to perform that +most necessary duty. For a child's bottom is made occasionally to be +spanked. The vibration of the spanking acts direct upon the spinal +nerve-system, there is a direct reciprocity and reaction, the spanker +transfers his wrath to the great will-centers in the child, and these +will-centers react intensely, are vivified and educated.</p> + +<p>On the other hand, given a mother who is too generally hard or +indifferent, then it rests with the father to provide the delicate +sympathy and the refined discipline. Then the father must show the +tender sensitiveness of the upper mode. The sad thing to-day is that +so few mothers have any deep bowels of love—or even the breast of +love. What they have is the benevolent spiritual will, the will of the +upper self. But the will is not love. And benevolence in a parent is +a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> poison. It is bullying. In these circumstances the father must give +delicate adjustment, and, above all, some warm, native love from the +richer sensual self.</p> + +<p>The question of corporal punishment is important. It is no use roughly +smacking a shrinking, sensitive child. And yet, if a child is too +shrinking, too sensitive, it may do it a world of good cheerfully to +spank its posterior. Not brutally, not cruelly, but with real sound, +good-natured exasperation. And let the adult take the full +responsibility, half humorously, without apology or explanation. Let +us avoid self-justification at all costs. Real corporal punishments +apply to the sensual plane. The refined punishments of the spiritual +mode are usually much more indecent and dangerous than a good smack. +The pained but resigned disapprobation of a mother is usually a very +bad thing, much worse than the father's shouts of rage. And sendings +to bed, and no dessert for a week, and so on, are crueller and meaner +than a bang on the head. When a parent gives his boy a beating, there +is a living passionate interchange. But in these refined punishments, +the parent suffers nothing and the child is deadened. The bullying of +the refined, benevolent spiritual will is simply vit<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span>riol to the soul. +Yet parents administer it with all the righteousness of virtue and +good intention, sparing themselves perfectly.</p> + +<p>The point is here. If a child makes you so that you really want to +spank it soundly, then soundly spank the brat. But know all the time +<i>what</i> you are doing, and always be responsible for your anger. Never +be ashamed of it, and never surpass it. The flashing interchange of +anger between parent and child is part of the responsible +relationship, necessary to growth. Again, if a child offends you +deeply, so that you really can't communicate with it any more, then, +while the hurt is deep, switch off your connection from the child, cut +off your correspondence, your vital communion, and be alone. But never +persist in such a state beyond the time when your deep hurt dies down. +The only rule is, do what you <i>really</i>, impulsively, wish to do. But +always act on your own responsibility sincerely. And have the courage +of your own strong emotion. They enrichen the child's soul.</p> + +<p>For a child's primary education depends almost entirely on its +relation to its parents, brothers, and sisters. Between mother and +child, father and child, the law is this: I, the mother, am myself +alone: the child is itself alone. But<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> there exists between us a vital +dynamic relation, for which I, being the conscious one, am basically +responsible. So, as far as possible, there must be in me no departure +from myself, lest I injure the preconscious dynamic relation. I must +absolutely act according to my own true spontaneous feeling. But, +moreover, I must also have wisdom for myself and for my child. Always, +always the deep wisdom of responsibility. And always a brave +responsibility for the soul's own spontaneity. Love—what is love? +We'd better get a new idea. Love is, in all, generous impulse—even a +good spanking. But wisdom is something else, a deep collectedness in +the soul, a deep abiding by my own integral being, which makes me +responsible, not for the child, but for my certain duties towards the +child, and for maintaining the dynamic flow between the child and +myself as genuine as possible: that is to say, not perverted by ideals +or by my <i>will</i>.</p> + +<p>Most fatal, most hateful of all things is bullying. But what is +bullying? It is a desire to superimpose my own will upon another +person. Sensual bullying of course is fairly easily detected. What is +more dangerous is ideal bullying. Bullying people into what is ideally +good for them. I embrace for example an ideal, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> I seek to enact +this ideal in the person of another. This is ideal bullying. A mother +says that life should be all love, all delicacy and forbearance and +gentleness. And she proceeds to spin a hateful sticky web of permanent +forbearance, gentleness, hushedness around her naturally passionate +and hasty child. This so foils the child as to make him half imbecile +or criminal. I may have ideals if I like—even of love and forbearance +and meekness. But I have no right to ask another to have these ideals. +And to impose <i>any ideals</i> upon a child as it grows is almost +criminal. It results in impoverishment and distortion and subsequent +deficiency. In our day, most dangerous is the love and benevolence +ideal. It results in neurasthenia, which is largely a dislocation or +collapse of the great voluntary centers, a derangement of the will. It +is in us an insistence upon the one life-mode only, the spiritual +mode. It is a suppression of the great lower centers, and a living a +sort of half-life, almost entirely from the upper centers. Thence, +since we live terribly and exhaustively from the upper centers, there +is a tendency now towards pthisis and neurasthenia of the heart. The +great sympathetic center of the breast becomes exhausted, the lungs, +burnt by the over-insistence of one way<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> of life, become diseased, the +heart, strained in one mode of dilation, retaliates. The powerful +lower centers are no longer fully active, particularly the great +lumbar ganglion, which is the clue to our sensual passionate pride and +independence, this ganglion is atrophied by suppression. And it is +this ganglion which holds the spine erect. So, weak-chested, +round-shouldered, we stoop hollowly forward on ourselves. It is the +result of the all-famous love and charity ideal, an ideal now quite +dead in its sympathetic activity, but still fixed and determined in +its voluntary action.</p> + +<p>Let us beware and beware, and beware of having a high ideal for +ourselves. But particularly let us beware of having an ideal for our +children. So doing, we damn them. All we can have is wisdom. And +wisdom is not a theory, it is a state of soul. It is the state wherein +we know our wholeness and the complicate, manifold nature of our +being. It is the state wherein we know the great relations which exist +between us and our near ones. And it is the state which accepts full +responsibility, first for our own souls, and then for the living +dynamic relations wherein we have our being. It is no use expecting +the other person to know. Each must know<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> for himself. But nowadays +men have even a stunt of pretending that children and idiots alone +know best. This is a pretty piece of sophistry, and criminal +cowardice, trying to dodge the life-responsibility which no man or +woman can dodge without disaster.</p> + +<p>The only thing is to be direct. If a child has to swallow castor-oil, +then say: "Child, you've got to swallow this castor-oil. It is +necessary for your inside. I say so because it is true. So open your +mouth." Why try coaxing and logic and tricks with children? Children +are more sagacious than we are. They twig soon enough if there is a +flaw in our own intention and our own true spontaneity. And they play +up to our bit of falsity till there is hell to pay.</p> + +<p>"You love mother, don't you, dear?"—Just a piece of indecent trickery +of the spiritual will. The great emotions like love are unspoken. +Speaking them is a sign of an indecent bullying will.</p> + +<p>"Poor pussy! You must love poor pussy!"</p> + +<p>What cant! What sickening cant! An appeal to love based on false pity. +That's the way to inculcate a filthy pharisaic conceit into a +child.—If the child ill-treats the cat, say:</p> + +<p>"Stop mauling that cat. It's got its own life<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> to live, so let it live +it." Then if the brat persists, give tit for tat.</p> + +<p>"What, you pull the cat's tail! Then I'll pull your nose, to see how +you like it." And give his nose a proper hard pinch.</p> + +<p>Children <i>must</i> pull the cat's tail a little. Children <i>must</i> steal +the sugar sometimes. They <i>must</i> occasionally spoil just the things +one doesn't want them to spoil. And they <i>must</i> occasionally tell +stories—tell a lie. Circumstances and life are such that we must all +sometimes tell a lie: just as we wear trousers, because we don't +choose that everybody shall see our nakedness. Morality is a delicate +act of adjustment on the soul's part, not a rule or a prescription. +Beyond a certain point the child <i>shall</i> not pull the cat's tail, <i>or</i> +steal the sugar, <i>or</i> spoil the furniture, <i>or</i> tell lies. But I'm +afraid you can't fix this certain soul's humor. And so it must. If at +a sudden point you fly into a temper and thoroughly beat the boy for +hardly touching the cat—well, that's life. All you've got to say to +him is: "There, that'll serve you for all the times you <i>have</i> pulled +her tail and hurt her." And he will feel outraged, and so will you. +But what does it matter? Children have an infinite understanding of +the soul's passionate variabilities, and forgive even a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> real +injustice, if it was <i>spontaneous</i> and not intentional. They know we +aren't perfect. What they don't forgive us is if we pretend we are: or +if we <i>bully</i>.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h3>THE FIVE SENSES</h3> + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_s.jpg" alt="S" width="36" height="50" /></div> +<p>cience is wretched in its treatment of the human body as a sort of +complex mechanism made up of numerous little machines working +automatically in a rather unsatisfactory relation to one another. The +body is the total machine; the various organs are the included +machines; and the whole thing, given a start at birth, or at +conception, trundles on by itself. The only god in the machine, the +human will or intelligence, is absolutely at the mercy of the machine.</p> + +<p>Such is the orthodox view. Soul, when it is allowed an existence at +all, sits somewhat vaguely within the machine, never defined. If +anything goes wrong with the machine, why, the soul is forgotten +instantly. We summon the arch-mechanic of our day, the medicine-man. +And a marvelous earnest fraud he is, doing his best. He is really +wonderful as a mechanic of the human system. But the life within us +fails<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> more and more, while we marvelously tinker at the engines. +Doctors are not to blame.</p> + +<p>It is obvious that, even considering the human body as a very delicate +and complex machine, you cannot keep such a machine running for one +day without most exact central control. Still more is it impossible to +consider the automatic evolution of such a machine. When did any +machine, even a single spinning-wheel, automatically evolve itself? +There was a god in the machine before the machine existed.</p> + +<p>So there we are with the human body. There must have been, and must be +a central god in the machine of each animate corpus. The little soul +of the beetle makes the beetle toddle. The little soul of the <i>homo +sapiens</i> sets him on his two feet. Don't ask me to define the soul. +You might as well ask a bicycle to define the young damsel who so +whimsically and so god-like pedals her way along the highroad. A young +lady skeltering off on her bicycle to meet her young man—why, what +could the bicycle make of such a mystery, if you explained it till +doomsday. Yet the bicycle wouldn't be spinning from Streatham to +Croydon by itself.</p> + +<p>So we may as well settle down to the little god in the machine. We may +as well call it the indi<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span>vidual soul, and leave it there. It's as far +as the bicycle would ever get, if it had to define Mademoiselle. But +be sure the bicycle would not deny the existence of the young miss who +seats herself in the saddle. Not like us, who try to pretend there is +no one in the saddle. Why even the sun would no more spin without a +rider than would a cycle-pedal. But, since we have innumerable planets +to reckon with, in the spinning we must not begin to define the rider +in terms of our own exclusive planet. Nevertheless, rider there is: +even a rider of the many-wheeled universe.</p> + +<p>But let us leave the universe alone. It is too big a bauble for +me.—<i>Revenons.</i>—At the start of me there is me. There is a +mysterious little entity which is my individual self, the god who +builds the machine and then makes his gay excursion of seventy years +within it. Now we are talking at the moment about the machine. For the +moment we are the bicycle, and not the feather-brained cyclist. So +that all we can do is to define the cyclist in terms of ourself. A +bicycle could say: Here, upon my leather saddle, rests a strange and +animated force, which I call the force of gravity, as being the one +great force which controls my universe. And yet, on second thoughts, I +must modify myself. This great<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> force of gravity is not <i>always</i> in +the saddle. Sometimes it just is not there—and I lean strangely +against a wall. I have been even known to turn upside down, with my +wheels in the air; spun by the same mysterious Miss. So that I must +introduce a theory of Relativity. However, mostly, when I am awake and +alive, she is in the saddle; or <i>it</i> is in the saddle, the mysterious +force. And when it is in the saddle, then two subsidiary forces plunge +and claw upon my two pedals, plunge and claw with inestimable power. +And at the same time, a kind and mysterious force sways my head-stock, +sways most incalculably, and governs my whole motion. This force is +not a driving force, but a subtle directing force, beneath whose grip +my bright steel body is flexible as a dipping highroad. Then let me +not forget the sudden clutch of arrest upon my hurrying wheels. Oh, +this is pain to me! While I am rushing forward, surpassing myself in +an <i>élan vital</i>, suddenly the awful check grips my back wheel, or my +front wheel, or both. Suddenly there is a fearful arrest. My soul +rushes on before my body, I feel myself strained, torn back. My fibers +groan. Then perhaps the tension relaxes.</p> + +<p>So the bicycle will continue to babble about<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> itself. And it will +inevitably wind up with a philosophy. "Oh, if only the great and +divine force rested for ever upon my saddle, and if only the +mysterious will which sways my steering gear remained in place for +ever: then my pedals would revolve of themselves, and never cease, and +no hideous brake should tear the perpetuity of my motions. Then, oh +then I should be immortal. I should leap through the world for ever, +and spin to infinity, till I was identified with the dizzy and +timeless cycle-race of the stars and the great sun...."</p> + +<p>Poor old bicycle. The very thought is enough to start a philanthropic +society for the prevention of cruelty to bicycles.</p> + +<p>Well, then, our human body is the bicycle. And our individual and +incomprehensible self is the rider thereof. And seeing that the +universe is another bicycle riding full tilt, we are bound to suppose +a rider for that also. But we needn't say what sort of rider. When I +see a cockroach scuttling across the floor and turning up its tail I +stand affronted, and think: A rum sort of rider <i>you</i> must have. +You've no business to have such a rider, do you hear?—And when I hear +the monotonous and plaintive cuckoo in the June woods, I think: Who +the devil made <i>that</i> clock?—And<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> when I see a politician making a +fiery speech on a platform, and the crowd gawping, I think: Lord, save +me—they've all got riders. But Holy Moses! you could never guess what +was coming.—And so I shouldn't like, myself, to start guessing about +the rider of the universe. I am all too flummoxed by the masquerade in +the tourney round about me.</p> + +<p>We ourselves then: wisdom, like charity, begins at home. We've each of +us got a rider in the saddle: an individual soul. Mostly it can't +ride, and can't steer, so mankind is like squadrons of bicycles +running amok. We should every one fall off if we didn't ride so thick +that we hold each other up. Horrid nightmare!</p> + +<p>As for myself, I have a horror of riding <i>en bloc</i>. So I grind away +uphill, and sweat my guts out, as they say.</p> + +<p>Well, well—my body is my bicycle: the whole middle of me is the +saddle where sits the rider of my soul. And my front wheel is the +cardiac plane, and my back wheel is the solar plexus. And the brakes +are the voluntary ganglia. And the steering gear is my head. And the +right and left pedals are the right and left dynamics of the body, in +some way corresponding to the sympathetic and voluntary division.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span></p> + +<p>So that now I know more or less how my rider rides me, and from what +centers controls me. That is, I know the points of vital contact +between my rider and my machine: between my invisible and my visible +self. I don't attempt to say what is my rider. A bicycle might as well +try to define its young Miss by wriggling its handle-bars and ringing +its bell.</p> + +<p>However, having more or less determined the four primary motions, we +can see the further unfolding. In a child, the solar plexus and the +cardiac plexus, with corresponding voluntary ganglia, are awake and +active. From these centers develop the great functions of the body.</p> + +<p>As we have seen, it is the solar plexus, with the lumbar ganglion, +which controls the great dynamic system, the functioning of the liver +and the kidneys. Any excess in the sympathetic dynamism tends to +accelerate the action of the liver, to cause fever and constipation. +Any collapse of the sympathetic dynamism causes anæmia. The sudden +stimulating of the voluntary center may cause diarrhœa, and so on. +But all this depends so completely on the polarized flow between the +individual and the correspondent, between the child and mother, child +and father, child and sisters or brothers or teacher, or +cir<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span>cumambient universe, that it is impossible to lay down laws, +unless we state particulars. Nevertheless, the whole of the great +organs of the lower body are controlled from the two lower centers, +and these organs work well or ill according as there is a true dynamic +<i>psychic</i> activity at the two primary centers of consciousness. By a +<i>true</i> dynamic psychic activity we mean an activity which is true to +the individual himself, to his own peculiar soul-nature. And a dynamic +psychic activity means a dynamic polarity between the individual +himself and other individuals concerned in his living; or between him +and his immediate surroundings, human, physical, geographical.</p> + +<p>On the upper plane, the lungs and heart are controlled from the +cardiac plane and the thoracic ganglion. Any excess in the sympathetic +mode from the upper centers tends to burn the lungs with oxygen, +weaken them with stress, and cause consumption. So it is just criminal +to make a child too loving. No child should be induced to love too +much. It means derangement and death at last.</p> + +<p>But beyond the primary physiological function—and it is the business +of doctors to discover the relation between the functioning of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> +primary organs and the dynamic psychic activity at the four primary +consciousness-centers,—beyond these physical functions, there are the +activities which are half-psychic, half-functional. Such as the five +senses.</p> + +<p>Of the five senses, four have their functioning in the face-region. +The fifth, the sense of touch, is distributed all over the body. But +all have their roots in the four great primary centers of +consciousness. From the constellation of your nerve-nodes, from the +great field of your poles, the nerves run out in every direction, +ending on the surface of the body. Inwardly this is an inextricable +ramification and communication.</p> + +<p>And yet the body is planned out in areas, there is a definite +area-control from the four centers. On the back the sense of touch is +not acute. There the voluntary centers act in resistance. But in the +front of the body, the breast is one great field of sympathetic touch, +the belly is another. On these two fields the stimulus of touch is +quite different, has a quite different psychic quality and psychic +result. The breast-touch is the fine alertness of quivering curiosity, +the belly-touch is a deep thrill of delight and avidity. +Correspondingly, the hands and arms<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> are instruments of superb +delicate curiosity, and deliberate execution. Through the elbows and +the wrists flows the dynamic psychic current, and a dislocation in the +current between two individuals will cause a feeling of dislocation at +the wrists and elbows. On the lower plane, the legs and feet are +instruments of unfathomable gratifications and repudiations. The +thighs, the knees, the feet are intensely alive with love-desire, +darkly and superbly drinking in the love-contact, blindly. Or they are +the great centers of resistance, kicking, repudiating. Sudden flushing +of great general sympathetic desire will make a man feel weak at the +knees. Hatred will harden the tension of the knees like steel, and +grip the feet like talons. Thus the fields of touch are four, two +sympathetic fields in front of the body from the throat to the feet, +two resistant fields behind from the neck to the heels.</p> + +<p>There are two fields of touch, however, where the distribution is not +so simple: the face and the buttocks. Neither in the face nor in the +buttocks is there one single mode of sense communication.</p> + +<p>The face is of course the great window of the self, the great opening +of the self upon the world, the great gateway. The lower body has its +own<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> gates of exit. But the bulk of our communication with all the +outer universe goes on through the face.</p> + +<p>And every one of the windows or gates of the face has its direct +communication with each of the four great centers of the first field +of consciousness. Take the mouth, with the sense of taste. The mouth +is primarily the gate of the two chief sensual centers. It is the +gateway to the belly and the loins. Through the mouth we eat and we +drink. In the mouth we have the sense of taste. At the lips, too, we +kiss. And the kiss of the mouth is the first sensual connection.</p> + +<p>In the mouth also are the teeth. And the teeth are the instruments of +our sensual will. The growth of the teeth is controlled entirely from +the two great sensual centers below the diaphragm. But almost entirely +from the one center, the voluntary center. The growth and the life of +the teeth depend almost entirely on the lumbar ganglion. During the +growth of the teeth the sympathetic mode is held in abeyance. There is +a sort of arrest. There is pain, there is diarrhœa, there is misery +for the baby.</p> + +<p>And we, in our age, have no rest with our teeth. Our mouths are too +small. For many ages we have been suppressing the avid, negroid,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> +sensual will. We have been converting ourselves into ideal creatures, +all spiritually conscious, and active dynamically only on one plane, +the upper, spiritual plane. Our mouth has contracted, our teeth have +become soft and un-quickened. Where in us are the sharp and vivid +teeth of the wolf, keen to defend and devour? If we had them more, we +should be happier. Where are the white negroid teeth? Where? In our +little pinched mouths they have no room. We are sympathy-rotten, and +spirit-rotten, and idea-rotten. We have forfeited our flashing sensual +power. And we have false teeth in our mouths. In the same way the lips +of our sensual desire go thinner and more meaningless, in the +compression of our upper will and our idea-driven impulse. Let us +break the conscious, self-conscious love-ideal, and we shall grow +strong, resistant teeth once more, and the teething of our young will +not be the hell it is.</p> + +<p>Teething is strictly the period when the voluntary center of the lower +plane first comes into full activity, and takes for a time the +precedence.</p> + +<p>So, the mouth is the great sensual gate to the lower body. But let us +not forget it is also a gate by which we breathe, the gate through<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> +which we speak and go impalpably forth to our object, the gate at +which we can kiss the pinched, delicate, spiritual kiss. Therefore, +although the main sensual gate of entrance to the lower body, it has +its reference also to the upper body.</p> + +<p>Taste, the sense of taste, is an intake of a pure communication +between us and a body from the outside world. It contains the element +of touch, and in this it refers to the cardiac plexus. But taste, +<i>quâ</i> taste, refers purely to the solar plexus.</p> + +<p>And then smell. The nostrils are the great gate from the wide +atmosphere of heaven to the lungs. The extreme sigh of yearning we +catch through the mouth. But the delicate nose advances always into +the air, our palpable communicator with the infinite air. Thus it has +its first delicate root in the cardiac plexus, the root of its intake. +And the root of the delicate-proud exhalation, rejection, is in the +thoracic ganglion. But the nostrils have their other function of +smell. Here the delicate nerve-ends run direct from the lower centers, +from the solar plexus and the lumbar ganglion, or even deeper. There +is the refined sensual intake when a scent is sweet. There is the +sensual repudiation when a scent is unsavoury. And just as the +fullness of the lips and the shape of the mouth depend on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> the +development from the lower or the upper centers, the sensual or the +spiritual, so does the shape of the nose depend on the direct control +of the deepest centers of consciousness. A perfect nose is perhaps the +result of a balance in the four modes. But what is a perfect nose!—We +only know that a short snub nose goes with an over-sympathetic nature, +not proud enough; while a long nose derives from the center of the +upper will, the thoracic ganglion, our great center of curiosity, and +benevolent or objective control. A thick, squat nose is the +sensual-sympathetic nose, and the high, arched nose the sensual +voluntary nose, having the curve of repudiation, as when we turn up +our nose from a bad smell, but also the proud curve of haughtiness and +subjective authority. The nose is one of the greatest indicators of +character. That is to say, it almost inevitably indicates the mode of +predominant dynamic consciousness in the individual, the predominant +primary center from which he lives.—When savages rub noses instead of +kissing, they are exchanging a more sensitive and a deeper sensual +salute than our lip-touch.</p> + +<p>The eyes are the third great gateway of the psyche. Here the soul goes +in and out of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> body, as a bird flying forth and coming home. But +the root of conscious vision is almost entirely in the breast. When I +go forth from my own eyes, in delight to dwell upon the world which is +beyond me, outside me, then I go forth from wide open windows, through +which shows the full and living lambent darkness of my present inward +self. I go forth, and I leave the lovely open darkness of my sensient +self revealed; when I go forth in the wonder of vision to dwell upon +the beloved, or upon the wonder of the world, I go from the center of +the glad breast, through the eyes, and who will may look into the full +soft darkness of me, rich with my undiscovered presence. But if I am +displeased, then hard and cold my self stands in my eyes, and refuses +any communication, any sympathy, but merely stares outwards. It is the +motion of cold objectivity from the thoracic ganglion. Or, from the +same center of will, cold but intense my eyes may watch with +curiosity, as a cat watches a fly. It may be into my curiosity will +creep an element of warm gladness in the wonder which I am beholding +outside myself. Or it may be that my curiosity will be purely and +simply the cold, almost cruel curiosity of the upper will, directed +from the ganglion of the shoulders: such<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> as is the acute attention of +an experimental scientist.</p> + +<p>The eyes have, however, their sensual root as well. But this is hard +to transfer into language, as all <i>our</i> vision, our modern Northern +vision is in the upper mode of actual seeing.</p> + +<p>There is a sensual way of beholding. There is the dark, desirous look +of a savage who apprehends only that which has direct reference to +himself, that which stirs a certain dark yearning within his lower +self. Then his eye is fathomless blackness. But there is the dark eye +which glances with a certain fire, and has no depth. There is a keen +quick vision which watches, which beholds, but which never yields to +the object outside: as a cat watching its prey. The dark glancing look +which knows the <i>strangeness</i>, the danger of its object, the need to +overcome the object. The eye which is not wide open to study, to +<i>learn</i>, but which powerfully, proudly or cautiously glances, and +knows the terror or the pure desirability of <i>strangeness</i> in the +object it beholds. The savage is all in all in himself. That which he +sees outside he hardly notices, or, he sees as something odd, +something automatically desirable, something lustfully de<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span>sirable, or +something dangerous. What we call vision, that he has not.</p> + +<p>We must compare the look in a horse's eye with the look in a cow's. +The eye of the cow is soft, velvety, receptive. She stands and gazes +with the strangest intent curiosity. She goes forth from herself in +wonder. The root of her vision is in her yearning breast. The same one +hears when she moos. The same massive weight of passion is in a bull's +breast; the passion to go forth from himself. His strength is in his +breast, his weapons are on his head. The wonder is always outside him.</p> + +<p>But the horse's eye is bright and glancing. His curiosity is cautious, +full of terror, or else aggressive and frightening for the object. The +root of his vision is in his belly, in the solar plexus. And he fights +with his teeth, and his heels, the sensual weapons.</p> + +<p>Both these animals, however, are established in the sympathetic mode. +The life mode in both is sensitively sympathetic, or preponderantly +sympathetic. Those animals which like cats, wolves, tigers, hawks, +chiefly live from the great voluntary centers, these animals are, in +our sense of the word, almost visionless. Sight in them is sharpened +or narrowed down to a point:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> the object of prey. It is exclusive. +They see no more than this. And thus they see unthinkably far, +unthinkably keenly.</p> + +<p>Most animals, however, smell what they see: vision is not very highly +developed. They know better by the more direct contact of scent.</p> + +<p>And vision in us becomes faulty because we proceed too much in one +mode. We see too much, we attend too much. The dark, glancing +sightlessness of the intent savage, the narrowed vision of the cat, +the single point of vision of the hawk—these we do not know any more. +We live far too much from the sympathetic centers, without the balance +from the voluntary mode. And we live far, far too much from the +<i>upper</i> sympathetic center and voluntary center, in an endless +objective curiosity. Sight is the least sensual of all the senses. And +we strain ourselves to see, see, see—everything, everything through +the eye, in one mode of objective curiosity. There is nothing inside +us, we stare endlessly at the outside. So our eyes begin to fail; to +retaliate on us. We go short-sighted, almost in self-protection.</p> + +<p>Hearing the last, and perhaps the deepest of the senses. And here +there is no choice. In every other faculty we have the power of +rejec<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span>tion. We have a choice of vision. We can, if we choose, see in +the terms of the wonderful beyond, the world of light into which we go +forth in joy to lose ourselves in it. Or we can see, as the Egyptians +saw, in the terms of their own dark souls: seeing the strangeness of +the creature outside, the gulf between it and them, but finally, its +existence in terms of themselves. They saw according to their own +unchangeable idea, subjectively, they did not go forth from themselves +to seek the wonder outside.</p> + +<p>Those are the two chief ways of sympathetic vision. We call our way +the objective, the Egyptian the subjective. But objective and +subjective are words that depend absolutely on your starting point. +Spiritual and sensual are much more descriptive terms.</p> + +<p>But there are, of course, also the two ways of volitional vision. We +can see with the endless modern critical sight, analytic, and at last +deliberately ugly. Or we can see as the hawk sees the one concentrated +spot where beats the life-heart of our prey.</p> + +<p>In the four modes of sight we have some choice. We have some choice to +refuse tastes or smells or touch. In hearing we have the minimum of +choice. Sound acts direct upon the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> great affective centers. We may +voluntarily quicken our hearing, or make it dull. But we have really +no choice of what we hear. Our will is eliminated. Sound acts direct, +almost automatically, upon the affective centers. And we have no power +of going forth from the ear. We are always and only recipient.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, sound acts upon us in various ways, according to the +four primary poles of consciousness. The singing of birds acts almost +entirely upon the centers of the breast. Birds, which live by flight, +impelled from the strong conscious-activity of the breast and +shoulders, have become for us symbols of the spirit, the upper mode of +consciousness. Their legs have become idle, almost insentient twigs. +Only the tail flirts from the center of the sensual will.</p> + +<p>But their singing acts direct upon the upper, or spiritual centers in +us. So does almost all our music, which is all Christian in tendency. +But modern music is analytical, critical, and it has discovered the +power of ugliness. Like our martial music, it is of the upper plane, +like our martial songs, our fifes and our brass-bands. These act +direct upon the thoracic ganglion. Time was, however, when music acted +upon the sensual centers direct. We hear it still in sav<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span>age music, +and in the roll of drums, and in the roaring of lions, and in the +howling of cats. And in some voices still we hear the deeper resonance +of the sensual mode of consciousness. But the tendency is for +everything to be brought on to the upper plane, whilst the lower plane +is just worked automatically from the upper.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h3>FIRST GLIMMERINGS OF MIND</h3> + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_w.jpg" alt="W" width="65" height="50" /></div> +<p>e can now see what is the true goal of education for a child. It is +the full and harmonious development of the four primary modes of +consciousness, always with regard to the individual nature of the +child.</p> + +<p>The goal is <i>not</i> ideal. The aim is <i>not</i> mental consciousness. We +want <i>effectual</i> human beings, not conscious ones. The final aim is +not <i>to know</i>, but <i>to be</i>. There never was a more risky motto than +that: <i>Know thyself</i>. You've got to know yourself as far as possible. +But not just for the sake of knowing. You've got to know yourself so +that you can at last <i>be</i> yourself. "Be yourself" is the last motto.</p> + +<p>The whole field of dynamic and effectual consciousness is <i>always</i> +pre-mental, non-mental. Not even the most knowing man that ever lived +would know how he would be feeling next week; whether some new and +utterly shattering impulse would have arisen in him and laid his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> +nicely-conceived self in ruins. It is the impulse we have to live by, +not the ideals or the idea. But we have to know ourselves pretty +thoroughly before we can break the automatism of ideals and +conventions. The savage in a state of nature is one of the most +conventional of creatures. So is a child. Only through fine delicate +knowledge can we recognize and release our impulses. Now our whole aim +has been to force each individual to a maximum of mental control, and +mental consciousness. Our poor little plans of children are put into +horrible forcing-beds, called schools, and the young idea is there +forced to shoot. It shoots, poor thing, like a potato in a warm +cellar. One mass of pallid sickly ideas and ideals. And no root, no +life. The ideas shoot, hard enough, in our sad offspring, but they +shoot at the expense of life itself. Never was such a mistake. Mental +consciousness is a purely individual affair. Some men are born to be +highly and delicately conscious. But for the vast majority, much +mental consciousness is simply a catastrophe, a blight. It just stops +their living.</p> + +<p>Our business, at the present, is to prevent at all cost the young idea +from shooting. The ideal mind, the brain, has become the vampire of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> +modern life, sucking up the blood and the life. There is hardly an +original thought or original utterance possible to us. All is sickly +repetition of stale, stale ideas.</p> + +<p>Let all schools be closed at once. Keep only a few technical training +establishments, nothing more. Let humanity lie fallow, for two +generations at least. Let no child learn to read, unless it learns by +itself, out of its own individual persistent desire.</p> + +<p>That is my serious admonition, gentle reader. But I am not so flighty +as to imagine you will pay any heed. But if I thought you would, I +should feel my hope surge up. And if you <i>don't</i> pay any heed, +calamity will at length shut your schools for you, sure enough.</p> + +<p>The process of transfer from the primary consciousness to recognized +mental consciousness is a mystery like every other transfer. Yet it +follows its own laws. And here we begin to approach the confines of +orthodox psychology, upon which we have no desire to trespass. But +this we <i>can</i> say. The degree of transfer from primary to mental +consciousness varies with every individual. But in most individuals +the natural degree is very low.</p> + +<p>The process of transfer from primary con<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span>sciousness is called +sublimation, the sublimating of the potential body of knowledge with +the definite reality of the idea. And with this process we have +identified all education. The very derivation of the Latin word +<i>education</i> shows us. Of course it should mean the leading forth of +each nature to its fullness. But with us, fools that we are, it is the +leading forth of the primary consciousness, the potential or dynamic +consciousness, into mental consciousness, which is finite and static. +Now before we set out so gayly to lead our children <i>en bloc</i> out of +the dynamic into the static way of consciousness, let us consider a +moment what we are doing.</p> + +<p>A child in the womb can have no <i>idea</i> of the mother. I think orthodox +psychology will allow us so much. And yet the child in the womb must +be dynamically conscious of the mother. Otherwise how could it +maintain a definite and progressively developing relation to her?</p> + +<p>This consciousness, however, is utterly non-ideal, non-mental, purely +dynamic, a matter of dynamic polarized intercourse of vital +vibrations, as an exchange of wireless messages which are never +translated from the pulse-rhythm into speech, because they have no +need to be. It is a dynamic polarized intercourse between the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> great +primary nuclei in the fœtus and the corresponding nuclei in the +dynamic maternal psyche.</p> + +<p>This form of consciousness is established at conception, and continues +long after birth. Nay, it continues all life long. But the particular +interchange of dynamic consciousness between mother and child suffers +no interruption at birth. It continues almost the same. The child has +no conception whatsoever of the mother. It cannot see her, for its eye +has no focus. It can hear her, because hearing needs no transmission +into concept, but it has no oral notion of sounds. It knows her. But +only by a form of vital dynamic correspondence, a sort of magnetic +interchange. The idea does not intervene at all.</p> + +<p>Gradually, however, the dark shadow of our object begins to loom in +the formless mind of the infant. The idea of the mother is, as it +were, gradually photographed on the cerebral plasm. It begins with the +faintest shadow—but the figure is gradually developed through years +of experience. It is never quite completed.</p> + +<p>How does the figure of the mother gradually develop as a <i>conception</i> +in the child mind? It develops as the result of the positive and +negative reaction from the primary centers of con<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span>sciousness. From the +first great center of sympathy the child is drawn to a lovely oneing +with the mother. From the first great center of will comes the +independent self-assertion which locates the mother as something +outside, something objective. And as a result of this twofold notion, +a twofold increase in the child. First, the dynamic establishment of +the individual consciousness in the infant: and then the first shadow +of a mental conception of the mother, in the infant brain. The +development of the <i>original</i> mind in every child and every man always +and only follows from the dual fulfillment in the dynamic +consciousness.</p> + +<p>But mark further. Each time, after the fourfold interchange between +two dynamic polarized lives, there results a development in the +individuality and a sublimation into consciousness, both +simultaneously in each party: <i>and this dual development causes at +once a diminution in the dynamic polarity between the two parties</i>. +That is, as its individuality and its mental concept of the mother +develop in the child, there is a corresponding <i>waning</i> of the dynamic +relation between the child and the mother. And this is the natural +progression of all love. As we have said before, the accomplishment of +individuality<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> never finally exhausts the dynamic flow between parents +and child. In the same way, a child can never have a finite conception +of either of its parents. It can have a very much more finite, +finished conception of its aunts or its friends. The portrait of the +parent can never be quite completed in the mind of the son or +daughter. As long as time lasts it must be left unfinished.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, the inevitable photography of time upon the mental plasm +does print at last a very substantial portrait of the parent, a very +well-filled concept in the child mind. And the nearer a conception +comes towards finality, the nearer does the dynamic relation, out of +which this concept has arisen, draw to a close. To know, is to lose. +When I have a finished mental concept of a beloved, or a friend, then +the love and the friendship is dead. It falls to the level of an +acquaintance. As soon as I have a finished mental conception, a full +idea even of myself, then dynamically I am dead. To know is to die.</p> + +<p>But knowledge and death are part of our natural development. Only, of +course, most things can never be known by us in full. Which means we +do never absolutely die, even to our parents. So that Jesus' question +to His mother, "Woman,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> what have I to do with thee!"—while +expressing a major truth, still has an exaggerated sound, which comes +from its denial of the minor truth.</p> + +<p>This progression from dynamic relationship towards a finished +individuality and a finished mental concept is carried on from the +four great primary centers through the correspondence medium of all +the senses and sensibilities. First of all, the child knows the mother +only through touch—perfect and immediate contact. And yet, from the +moment of conception, the egg-cell repudiated complete adhesion and +even communication, and asserted its individual integrity. The child +in the womb, perfect a contact though it may have with the mother, is +all the time also dynamically polarized against this contact. From the +first moment, this relation in touch has a dual polarity, and, no +doubt, a dual mode. It is a fourfold interchange of consciousness, the +moment the egg-cell has made its two spontaneous divisions.</p> + +<p>As soon as the child is born, there is a real severance. The contact +of touch is interrupted, it now becomes occasional only. True, the +dynamic flow between mother and child is not severed when simple +physical contact is missing. Though mother and child may not touch, +still<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> the dynamic flow continues between them. The mother knows her +child, feels her bowels and her breast drawn to it, even if it be a +hundred miles away. But if the severance continue long, the dynamic +flow begins to die, both in mother and child. It wanes fairly +quickly—and perhaps can never be fully revived. The dynamic relation +between parent and child may fairly easily fall into quiescence, a +static condition.</p> + +<p>For a full dynamic relationship it is necessary that there be actual +contact. The nerves run from the four primary dynamos, and end with +live ends all over the body. And it is necessary to bring the live +ends of the nerves of the child into contact with the live ends of +corresponding nerves in the mother, so that a pure circuit is +established. Wherever a pure circuit is established, there occurs a +pure development in the individual creation, and this is inevitably +accompanied by sensation; and sensation is the first term of mental +knowledge.</p> + +<p>So, from the field of the breast and arms, the upper circuit, and from +the field of the knees and feet and belly, the lower circuit.</p> + +<p>And then, the moment a child is born, the face is alive. And the face +communicates direct with both planes of primary consciousness. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> +moment a child is born, it begins to grope for the breast. And +suddenly a new great circuit is established, the four poles all +working at once, as the child sucks. There is the profound +desirousness of the lower center of sympathy, and the superior avidity +of the center of will, and at the same time, the cleaving yearning to +the nipple, and the tiny curiosity of lips and gums. The nipple of the +mother's breast is one of the great gates of the body, hence of the +living psyche. In the nipple terminate vivid nerves which flash their +very powerful vibrations through the mouth of the child and deep into +its four great poles of being and knowing. Even the nipples of the man +are gateways to the great dynamic flow: still gateways.</p> + +<p>Touch, taste, and smell are now active in the baby. And these senses, +so-called, are strictly sensations. They are the first term of the +child's mental knowledge. And on these three <i>cerebral</i> reactions the +foundation of the future mind is laid.</p> + +<p>The moment there is a perfect polarized circuit between the first four +poles of dynamic consciousness, at that moment does the mind, the +terminal station, flash into cognition. The first cognition is merely +sensation: sensation and the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> remembrance of sensation being the first +element in all knowing and in all conception.</p> + +<p>The circuit of touch, taste, and smell must be well established, +before the eyes begin actually to see. All mental knowledge is built +up of sensation and of memory. It is the continually recurring +sensation of the touch of the mother which forms the basis of the +first conception of the mother. After that, the gradually +discriminated taste of the mother, and scent of the mother. Till +gradually sight and hearing develop and largely usurp the first three +senses, as medium of correspondence and of knowledge.</p> + +<p>And while, of course, the sensational <i>knowledge</i> is being secreted in +the brain, in some much more mysterious way the living individuality +of the child is being developed in the four first nuclei, the four +great nerve-centers of the primary field of consciousness and being.</p> + +<p>As time goes on, the child learns to see the mother. At first he sees +her face as a blur, and though he knows her, knows her by a direct +glow of communication, as if her face were a warm glowing life-lamp +which rejoiced him. But gradually, as the circuit of touch, taste, and +smell become powerfully established; gradually, as the individual +develops in the child, and so re<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span>treats towards isolation; gradually, +as the child stands more immune from the mother, the circuit of +correspondence extends, and the eyes now communicate across space, the +ears begin to discriminate sounds. Last of all develops discriminate +hearing.</p> + +<p>Now gradually the picture of the mother is transferred to the child's +mind, and the sound of the first baby-words is imprinted. And as the +child learns to discriminate visually, objectively, between the mother +and the nurse, he learns to choose, and becomes individually free. And +still, the dynamic correspondence is not finished. It only changes its +circuit.</p> + +<p>While the brain is registering sensations, the four dynamic centers +are coming into perfect relation. Or rather, as we see, the reverse is +the case. As the dynamic centers come into perfect relation, the mind +registers and remembers sensations, and begins consciously to know. +But the great field of activity is still and always the dynamic field. +When a child learns to walk, it learns almost entirely from the solar +plexus and the lumbar ganglion, the cardiac plexus and the thoracic +ganglion balancing the upper body.</p> + +<p>There is a perfected circuit of polarity. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> two lower centers are +the positive, the two upper the negative poles. And so the child +strikes out with his feet for the earth, presses, and strikes away +again from the earth, the two upper centers meanwhile corresponding +implicitly in the balance of the upper body. It is a chain of +spontaneous activity in the four primary centers, establishing a +circuit through the whole body. But the positive poles are the lower +centers. And the brain has probably nothing at all to do with it. Even +the <i>desire</i> to walk is not born in the brain, but in the primary +nuclei.</p> + +<p>The same with the use of the hands and arms. It means the +establishment of a pure circuit between the four centers, the two +upper poles now being the positive, the lower the negative poles, and +the hands the live end of the wire. Again the brain is not concerned. +Probably, even in the first deliberate grasping of an object, the +brain is not concerned. Not until there is an element of recognition +and sensation-memory.</p> + +<p>All our primal activity originates and circulates purely in the four +great nerve centers. All our active desire, our genuine impulse, our +love, our hope, our yearning, everything originates mysteriously at +these four great centers or well-heads of our existence: everything +vital and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> dynamic. The mind can only register that which results from +the emanation of the dynamic impulse and the collision or communion of +this impulse with its object.</p> + +<p>So now we see that we can never know ourselves. Knowledge is to +consciousness what the signpost is to the traveler: just an indication +of the way which has been traveled before. Knowledge is not even in +direct proportion to being. There may be great knowledge of chemistry +in a man who is a rather poor <i>being</i>: and those who <i>know</i>, even in +wisdom like Solomon, are often at the end of the matter of living, not +at the beginning. As a matter of fact, David did the living, the +dynamic achievement. To Solomon was left the consummation and the +finish, and the dying down.</p> + +<p>Yet we <i>must</i> know, if only in order to learn not to know. The supreme +lesson of human consciousness is to learn how <i>not to know</i>. That is, +how not to <i>interfere</i>. That is, how to live dynamically, from the +great Source, and not statically, like machines driven by ideas and +principles from the head, or automatically, from one fixed desire. At +last, knowledge must<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> be put into its true place in the living +activity of man. And we must know deeply, in order even to do that.</p> + +<p>So a new conception of the meaning of education.</p> + +<p>Education means leading out the individual nature in each man and +woman to its true fullness. You can't do that by stimulating the mind. +To pump education into the mind is fatal. That which sublimates from +the dynamic consciousness into the mental consciousness has alone any +value. This, in most individuals, is very little indeed. So that most +individuals, under a wise government, would be most carefully +protected from all vicious attempts to inject extraneous ideas into +them. Every extraneous idea, which has no inherent root in the dynamic +consciousness, is as dangerous as a nail driven into a young tree. For +the mass of people, knowledge <i>must</i> be symbolical, mythical, dynamic. +This means, you must have a higher, responsible, conscious class: and +then in varying degrees the lower classes, varying in their degree of +consciousness. Symbols must be true from top to bottom. But the +interpretation of the symbols must rest, degree after degree, in the +higher, re<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span>sponsible, conscious classes. To <i>those who cannot divest</i> +themselves again of mental consciousness and definite ideas, mentality +and ideas are death, nails through their hands and feet.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h3>FIRST STEPS IN EDUCATION</h3> + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he first process of education is obviously not a mental process. When +a mother talks to a baby, she is not encouraging its little mind to +think. When she is coaxing her child to walk, she is not making a +theoretic exposition of the science of equilibration. She crouches +before the child, at a little distance, and spreads her hands. "Come, +baby—come to mother. Come! Baby, walk! Yes, walk! Walk to mother! +Come along. A little walk to its mother. Come! Come then! Why yes, a +pretty baby! Oh, he can toddle! Yes—yes—No, don't be frightened, a +dear. No—Come to mother—" and she catches his little pinafore by the +tip—and the infant lurches forward. "There! There! A beautiful walk! +A beautiful walker, yes! Walked all the way to mother, baby did. Yes, +he did—"</p> + +<p>Now who will tell me that this talk has any rhyme or reason? Not a +spark of reason. Yet<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> a real rhyme: or rhythm, much more important. +The song and the urge of the mother's voice plays direct on the +affective centers of the child, a wonderful stimulus and tuition. The +words hardly matter. True, this constant repetition in the end forms a +mental association. At the moment they have no mental significance at +all for the baby. But they ring with a strange palpitating music in +his fluttering soul, and lift him into motion.</p> + +<p>And this is the way to educate children: the instinctive way of +mothers. There should be no effort made to teach children to think, to +have ideas. Only to lift them and urge them into dynamic activity. The +voice of dynamic sound, not the words of understanding. Damn +understanding. Gestures, and touch, and expression of the face, not +theory. Never have ideas about children—and never have ideas <i>for</i> +them.</p> + +<p>If we are going to teach children we must teach them first to move. +And not by rule or mental dictation. Horror! But by playing and +teasing and anger, and amusement. A child must learn to move blithe +and free and proud. It must learn the fullness of spontaneous motion. +And this it can only learn by continuous reaction from all the +centers, through all the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> emotions. A child must learn to contain +itself. It must learn to sit still if need be. Part of the first phase +of education is the learning to stay still and be physically +self-contained. Then a child must learn to be alone, and to adventure +alone, and to play alone. Any peevish clinging should be quite roughly +rebuffed. From the very first day, throw a child back on its own +resources—even a little cruelly sometimes. But don't neglect it, +don't have a negative attitude to it. Play with it, tease it and roll +it over as a dog her puppy, mock it when it is too timorous, laugh at +it, scold it when it really bothers you—for a child must learn not to +bother another person—and when it makes you genuinely angry, spank it +soundly. But always remember that it is a single little soul by +itself; and that the responsibility for the wise, warm relationship is +yours, the adult's.</p> + +<p>Then always watch its deportment. Above all things encourage a +straight backbone and proud shoulders. Above all things despise a +slovenly movement, an ugly bearing and unpleasing manner. And make a +mock of petulance and of too much timidity.</p> + +<p>We are imbeciles to start bothering about love and so forth in a +child. Forget utterly that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> there is such a thing as emotional +reciprocity. But never forget your own honor as an adult individual +towards a small individual. It is a question of honor, not of love.</p> + +<p>A tree grows straight when it has deep roots and is not too stifled. +Love is a spontaneous thing, coming out of the spontaneous effectual +soul. As a deliberate principle it is an unmitigated evil. Also +morality which is based on ideas, or on an ideal, is an unmitigated +evil. A child which is proud and free in its movements, in all its +deportment, will be quite as moral as need be. Honor is an instinct, a +superb instinct which should be kept keenly alive. Immorality, vice, +crime, these come from a suppression or a collapse at one or other of +the great primary centers. If one of these centers fails to maintain +its true polarity, then there is a physical or psychic derangement, or +both. And viciousness or crime are the result of a derangement in the +primary system. Pure morality is only an instinctive adjustment which +the soul makes in every circumstance, adjusting one thing to another +livingly, delicately, sensitively. There can be no law. Therefore, at +every cost and charge keep the first four centers alive and alert, +active, and vivid in reaction. And then<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> you need fear no perversion. +What we have done, in our era, is, first, we have tried as far as +possible to suppress or subordinate the two sensual centers. We have +so unduly insisted on and exaggerated the upper spiritual or selfless +mode—the living in the other person and through the other +person—that we have caused already a dangerous over-balance in the +natural psyche.</p> + +<p>To correct this we go one worse, and try to rule ourselves more and +more by the old ideas of sympathy and benevolence. We think that love +and benevolence will cure anything. Whereas love and benevolence are +our poison, poison to the giver, and still more poison to the +receiver. Poison only because there is practically <i>no</i> spontaneous +love left in the world. It is all <i>will</i>, the fatal love-will and +insatiable morbid curiosity. The pure sympathetic mode of love long +ago broke down. There is now only deadly, exaggerated volition.</p> + +<p>This is also why general education should be suppressed as soon as +possible. We have fallen into a state of fixed, deadly will. +Everything we do and say to our children in school tends simply to fix +in them the same deadly will, under the pretence of pure love. Our +idealism is <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span>the clue to our fixed will. Love, beauty, benevolence, +progress, these are the words we use. But the principle we evoke is a +principle of barren, sanctified compulsion of all life. We want to put +all life under compulsion. "How to outwit the nerves," for +example.—And therefore, to save the children as far as possible, +elementary education should be stopped at once.</p> + +<p>No child should be sent to any sort of public institution before the +age of ten years. If I could but advise, I would advise that this +notice should be sent through the length and breadth of the land.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Parents, the State can no longer be responsible for the +mind and character of your children. From the first day of +the coming year, all schools will be closed for an +indefinite period. Fathers, see that your boys are trained +to be men. Mothers, see that your daughters are trained to +be women.</p> + +<p>"All schools will shortly be converted either into public +workshops or into gymnasia. No child will be admitted into +the workshops under ten years of age. Active training in +primitive modes of fighting and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> gymnastics will be +compulsory for all boys over ten years of age.</p> + +<p>"All girls over ten years of age must attend at one domestic +workshop. All girls over ten years of age may, in addition, +attend at one workshop of skilled labor, or of technical +industry, or of art. Admission for three months' probation.</p> + +<p>"All boys over ten years of age must attend at one workshop +of domestic crafts, and at one workshop of skilled labor, or +of technical industry, or of art. A boy may choose, with his +parents' consent, his school of labor, or technical industry +or art, but the directors reserve the right to transfer him +to a more suitable department, if necessary, after a three +months' probation.</p> + +<p>"It is the intention of this State to form a body of active, +energetic citizens. The danger of a helpless, presumptuous, +news-paper-reading population is universally recognized.</p> + +<p>"All elementary education is left in the hands of the +parents, save such as is necessary to the different branches +of industry.</p> + +<p>"Schools of mental culture are free to all individuals over +fourteen years of age.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Universities are free to all who obtain the first culture +degree."</p></div> + +<p>The fact is, our process of universal education is to-day so uncouth, +so psychologically barbaric, that it is the most terrible menace to +the existence of our race. We seize hold of our children, and by +parrot-compulsion we force into them a set of mental tricks. By +unnatural and unhealthy compulsion we force them into a certain amount +of cerebral activity. And then, after a few years, with a certain +number of windmills in their heads, we turn them loose, like so many +inferior Don Quixotes, to make a mess of life. All that they have +learnt in their heads has no reference at all to their dynamic souls. +The windmills spin and spin in a wind of words, Dulcinea del Toboso +beckons round every corner, and our nation of inferior Quixotes jumps +on and off tram-cars, trains, bicycles, motor-cars, buses, in one mad +chase of the divine Dulcinea, who is all the time chewing chocolates +and feeling very, very bored. It is no use telling the poor devils to +stop. They read in the newspapers about more Dulcineas and more +chivalry due to them and more horrid persons who injure the fair<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> fame +of these bored females. And round they skelter, after their own tails. +That is, when they are not forced to grind out their lives for a wage. +Though work is the only thing that prevents our masses from going +quite mad.</p> + +<p>To tell the truth, ideas are the most dangerous germs mankind has ever +been injected with. They are introduced into the brain by injection, +in schools and by means of newspapers, and then we are done for.</p> + +<p>An idea which is merely introduced into the brain, and started +spinning there like some outrageous insect, is the cause of all our +misery to-day. Instead of living from the spontaneous centers, we live +from the head. We chew, chew, chew at some theory, some idea. We +grind, grind, grind in our mental consciousness, till we are beside +ourselves. Our primary affective centers, our centers of spontaneous +being, are so utterly ground round and automatized that they squeak in +all stages of disharmony and incipient collapse. We are a people—and +not we alone—of idiots, imbeciles and epileptics, and we don't even +know we are raving.</p> + +<p>And all is due, directly and solely, to that hateful germ we call the +Ideal. The Ideal is <i>always</i> evil, no matter what ideal it be. No +idea<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> should ever be raised to a governing throne.</p> + +<p>This does not mean that man should immediately cut off his head and +try to develop a pair of eyes in his breasts. But it does mean this: +that an idea is just the final concrete or registered result of living +dynamic interchange and reactions: that no idea is ever perfectly +expressed until its dynamic cause is finished; and that to continue to +put into dynamic effect an already perfected idea means the +nullification of all living activity, the substitution of mechanism, +and all the resultant horrors of <i>ennui</i>, ecstasy, neurasthenia, and a +collapsing psyche.</p> + +<p>The whole tree of our idea of life and living is dead. Then let us +leave off hanging ourselves and our children from its branches like +medlars.</p> + +<p>The idea, the actual idea, must rise ever fresh, ever displaced, like +the leaves of a tree, from out of the quickness of the sap, and +according to the forever incalculable effluence of the great dynamic +centers of life. The tree of life is a gay kind of tree that is +forever dropping its leaves and budding out afresh, quite different +ones. If the last lot were thistle leaves, the next lot may be vine. +You never can tell with the Tree of Life.</p> + +<p>So we come back to that precious child who<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> costs us such a lot of +ink. By what right, I ask you, are we going to inject into him our own +disease-germs of ideas and infallible motives? By the right of the +diseased, who want to infect everybody.</p> + +<p>There are <i>few, few people</i> in whom the living impulse and reaction +develops and sublimates into mental consciousness. There are all kinds +of trees in the forest. But few of them indeed bear the apples of +knowledge. The modern world insists, however, that every individual +shall bear the apples of knowledge. So we go through the forest of +mankind, cut back every tree, and try to graft it into an apple-tree. +A nice wood of monsters we make by so doing.</p> + +<p>It is not the <i>nature</i> of most men to know and to understand and to +reason very far. Therefore, why should they make a pretense of it? It +is the nature of some few men to reason, then let them reason. Those +whose nature it is to be rational will instinctively ask why and +wherefore, and wrestle with themselves for an answer. But why every +Tom, Dick and Harry should have the why and wherefore of the universe +rammed into him, and should be allowed to draw the conclusion hence +that he is the ideal person and responsible for the universe, I don't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> +know. It is a lie anyway—for neither the whys nor the wherefores are +his own, and he is but a parrot with his nut of a universe.</p> + +<p>Why should we cram the mind of a child with facts that have nothing to +do with his own experiences, and have no relation to his own dynamic +activity? Let us realize that every extraneous idea effectually +introduced into a man's mind is a direct obstruction of his dynamic +activity. Every idea which is introduced from outside into a man's +mind, and which does not correspond to his own dynamic nature, is a +fatal stumbling-block for that man: is a cause of arrest for his true +individual activity, and a derangement to his psychic being.</p> + +<p>For instance, if I teach a man the idea that all men are equal. Now +this idea has no foundation in experience, but is logically deduced +from certain ethical or philosophic principles. But there is a disease +of idealism in the world, and we all are born with it. Particularly +teachers are born with it. So they seize on the idea of equality, and +proceed to instil it. With what result? Your man is no longer a man, +living his own life from his own spontaneous centers. He is a +theoretic imbecile trying to frustrate and dislocate all life.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span></p> + +<p>It is the death of all life to force a pure <i>idea</i> into practice. Life +must be lived from the deep, self-responsible spontaneous centers of +every individual, in a vital, <i>non-ideal</i> circuit of dynamic relation +between individuals. The passions or desires which are thought-born +are deadly. Any particular mode of passion or desire which receives an +exclusive ideal sanction at once becomes poisonous.</p> + +<p>If this is true for men, it is much more true for women. Teach a woman +to act from an idea, and you destroy her womanhood for ever. Make a +woman self-conscious, and her soul is barren as a sandbag. Why were we +driven out of Paradise? Why did we fall into this gnawing disease of +unappeasable dissatisfaction? Not because we sinned. Ah, no. All the +animals in Paradise enjoyed the sensual passion of coition. Not +because we sinned. But because we got our sex into our head.</p> + +<p>When Eve ate that particular apple, she became aware of her own +womanhood, mentally. And mentally she began to experiment with it. She +has been experimenting ever since. So has man. To the rage and horror +of both of them.</p> + +<p>These sexual experiments are really anathema. But once a woman is +sexually self-conscious,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> what is she to do? There it is, she is born +with the disease of her own self-consciousness, as was her mother +before her. She is bound to experiment and try one idea after another, +in the long run always to her own misery. She is bound to have fixed +one, and then another idea of herself, herself as woman. First she is +the noble spouse of a not-quite-so-noble male: then a <i>Mater +Dolorosa</i>: then a ministering Angel: then a competent social unit, a +Member of Parliament or a Lady Doctor or a platform speaker: and all +the while, as a side show, she is the Isolde of some Tristan, or the +Guinevere of some Lancelot, or the Fata Morgana of all men—in her own +idea. She can't stop having an idea of herself. She can't get herself +out of her own head. And there she is, functioning away from her own +head and her own consciousness of herself and her own automatic +self-will, till the whole man and woman game has become just a hell, +and men with any backbone would rather kill themselves than go on with +it—or kill somebody else.</p> + +<p>Yet we are going to inculcate more and more self-consciousness, teach +every little Mary to be more and more a nice little Mary out of her +own head, and every little Joseph to theorize himself up to the +scratch.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span></p> + +<p>And the point lies here. There will <i>have</i> to come an end. Every race +which has become self-conscious and idea-bound in the past has +perished. And then it has all started afresh, in a different way, with +another race. And man has never learnt any better. We are really far, +far more life-stupid than the dead Greeks or the lost Etruscans. Our +day is pretty short, and closing fast. We can pass, and another race +can follow later.</p> + +<p>But there is another alternative. We still have in us the power to +discriminate between our own idealism, our own self-conscious will, +and that other reality, our own true spontaneous self. Certainly we +are so overloaded and diseased with ideas that we can't get well in a +minute. But we can set our faces stubbornly against the disease, once +we recognize it. The disease of love, the disease of "spirit," the +disease of niceness and benevolence and feeling good on our own behalf +and good on somebody else's behalf. Pah, it is all a gangrene. We can +retreat upon the proud, isolate self, and remain there alone, like +lepers, till we are cured of this ghastly white disease of +self-conscious idealism.</p> + +<p>And we really can make a move on our children's behalf. We really can +refrain from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> thrusting our children any more into those hot-beds of +the self-conscious disease, schools. We really can prevent their +eating much more of the tissues of leprosy, newspapers and books. For +a time, there should be no compulsory teaching to read and write at +all. <i>The great mass of humanity should never learn to read and +write</i>—<i>never</i>.</p> + +<p>And instead of this gnawing, gnawing disease of mental consciousness +and awful, unhealthy craving for stimulus and for action, we must +substitute genuine action. The war was really not a bad beginning. But +we went out under the banners of idealism, and now the men are home +again, the virus is more active than ever, rotting their very souls.</p> + +<p>The mass of the people will never <i>mentally understand</i>. But they will +soon instinctively fall into line.</p> + +<p>Let us substitute action, all kinds of action, for the mass of people, +in place of mental activity. Even twelve hours' work a day is better +than a newspaper at four in the afternoon and a grievance for the rest +of the evening. But particularly let us take care of the children. At +all cost, try to prevent a girl's mind from dwelling on herself, Make +her act, work, play:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> assume a rule over her girlhood. Let her learn +the domestic arts in their perfection. Let us even artificially set +her to spin and weave. Anything to keep her busy, to prevent her +reading and becoming self-conscious. Let us awake as soon as possible +to the repulsive machine quality of machine-made things. They smell of +death. And let us insist that the home is sacred, the hearth, and the +very things of the home. Then keep the girls apart from any +familiarity or being "pals" with the boys. The nice clean intimacy +which we now so admire between the sexes is sterilizing. It makes +neuters. Later on, no deep, magical sex-life is possible.</p> + +<p>The same with the boys. First and foremost establish a rule over them, +a proud, harsh, manly rule. Make them <i>know</i> that at every moment they +are in the shadow of a proud, strong, adult authority. Let them be +soldiers, but as individuals not machine units. There are wars in the +future, great wars, which not machines will finally decide, but the +free, indomitable life spirit. No more wars under the banners of the +ideal, and in the spirit of sacrifice. But wars in the strength of +individual men. And then, pure individualistic training to fight, and +preparation for a whole new way of life, a new so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span>ciety. Put money +into its place, and science and industry. The leaders must stand for +life, and they must not ask the simple followers to point out the +direction. When the leaders assume responsibility they relieve the +followers forever of the burden of finding a way. Relieved of this +hateful incubus of responsibility for general affairs, the populace +can again become free and happy and spontaneous, leaving matters to +their superiors. No newspapers—the mass of the people never learning +to read. The evolving once more of the great spontaneous gestures of +life.</p> + +<p>We can't go on as we are. Poor, nerve-worn creatures, fretting our +lives away and hating to die because we have never lived. The secret +is, to commit into the hands of the sacred few the responsibility +which now lies like torture on the mass. Let the few, the leaders, be +increasingly responsible for the whole. And let the mass be free: +free, save for the choice of leaders.</p> + +<p>Leaders—this is what mankind is craving for.</p> + +<p>But men must be prepared to obey, body and soul, once they have chosen +the leader. And let them choose the leader for life's sake only.</p> + +<p>Begin then—there is a beginning.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h3>EDUCATION AND SEX IN MAN, WOMAN AND CHILD</h3> + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he one thing we have to avoid, then, even while we carry on our own old +process of education, is this development of the powers of so-called +self-expression in a child. Let us beware of artificially stimulating +his self-consciousness and his so-called imagination. All that we do is +to pervert the child into a ghastly state of self-consciousness, making +him affectedly try to show off as we wish him to show off. The moment +the least little trace of self-consciousness enters in a child, good-by +to everything except falsity.</p> + +<p>Much better just pound away at the ABC and simple arithmetic and so +on. The modern methods do make children sharp, give them a sort of +slick finesse, but it is the beginning of the mischief. It ends in the +great "unrest" of a nervous, hysterical proletariat. Begin to teach a +child of five to "understand." To understand the sun<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> and moon and +daisy and the secrets of procreation, bless your soul. Understanding +all the way.—And when the child is twenty he'll have a hysterical +understanding of his own invented grievance, and there's an end of +him. Understanding is the devil.</p> + +<p>A child mustn't understand things. He must have them his own way. His +vision isn't ours. When a boy of eight sees a horse, he doesn't see +the correct biological object we intend him to see. He sees a big +living presence of no particular shape with hair dangling from its +neck and four legs. If he puts two eyes in the profile, he is quite +right. Because he does <i>not</i> see with optical, photographic vision. +The image on his retina is <i>not</i> the image of his consciousness. The +image on his retina just does not go into him. His unconsciousness is +filled with a strong, dark, vague prescience of a powerful presence, a +two-eyed, four-legged, long-maned presence looming imminent.</p> + +<p>And to <i>force</i> the boy to see a correct one-eyed horse-profile is just +like pasting a placard in front of his vision. It simply kills his +inward seeing. We don't <i>want</i> him to see a proper horse. The child is +<i>not</i> a little camera. He is a small vital organism which has direct +dynamic<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> <i>rapport</i> with the objects of the outer universe. He +perceives from his breast and his abdomen, with deep-sunken realism, +the elemental nature of the creature. So that to this day a Noah's Ark +tree is more real than a Corot tree or a Constable tree: and a flat +Noah's Ark cow has a deeper vital reality than even a Cuyp cow.</p> + +<p>The mode of vision is not one and final. The mode of vision is +manifold. And the optical image is a mere vibrating blur to a +child—and, indeed, to a passionate adult. In this vibrating blur the +soul sees its own true correspondent. It sees, in a cow, horns and +squareness, and a long tail. It sees, for a horse, a mane, and a long +face, round nose, and four legs. And in each case a darkly vital +presence. Now horns and squareness and a long thin ox-tail, these are +the fearful and wonderful elements of the cow-form, which the dynamic +soul perfectly perceives. The ideal-image is just outside nature, for +a child—something false. In a picture, a child wants elemental +recognition, and not correctness or expression, or least of all, what +we call understanding. The child distorts inevitably and dynamically. +But the dynamic abstraction is more than mental. If a huge eye sits in +the middle of the cheek, in a child's draw<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span>ing, this shows that the +deep dynamic consciousness of the eye, its relative exaggeration, is +the life-truth, even if it is a scientific falsehood.</p> + +<p>On the other hand, what on earth is the good of saying to a child, +"The world is a flattened sphere, like an orange." It is simply +pernicious. You had much better say the world is a poached egg in a +frying pan. <i>That</i> might have some dynamic meaning. The only thing +about the flattened orange is that the child just sees this orange +disporting itself in blue air, and never bothers to associate it with +the earth he treads on. And yet it would be so much better for the +mass of mankind if they never heard of the flattened sphere. They +should never be told that the earth is round. It only makes everything +unreal to them. They are balked in their impression of the flat good +earth, they can't get over this sphere business, they live in a fog of +abstraction, and nothing is anything. Save for purposes of +abstraction, the earth is a great plain, with hills and valleys. Why +force abstractions and kill the reality, when there's no need?</p> + +<p>As for children, will we never realize that their abstractions are +never based on observations, but on subjective exaggerations? If there +is an eye in the face, the face is all eye. It is the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> child soul +which cannot get over the mystery of the eye. If there is a tree in a +landscape, the landscape is all tree. Always this partial focus. The +attempt to make a child focus for a whole view—which is really a +generalization and an adult abstraction—is simply wicked. Yet the +first thing we do is to set a child making relief-maps in clay, for +example: of his own district. Imbecility! He has not even the faintest +impression of the total hill on which his home stands. A steepness +going up to a door—and front garden railings—and perhaps windows. +That's the lot.</p> + +<p>The top and bottom of it is, that it is a crime to teach a child +anything at all, school-wise. It is just evil to collect children +together and teach them through the head. It causes absolute +starvation in the dynamic centers, and sterile substitute of brain +knowledge is all the gain. The children of the middle classes are so +vitally impoverished, that the miracle is they continue to exist at +all. The children of the lower classes do better, because they escape +into the streets. But even the children of the proletariat are now +infected.</p> + +<p>And, of course, as my critics point out, under all the school-smarm +and newspaper-cant, man<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> is to-day as savage as a cannibal, and more +dangerous. The living dynamic self is denaturalized instead of being +educated.</p> + +<p>We talk about education—leading forth the natural intelligence of a +child. But ours is just the opposite of leading forth. It is a ramming +in of brain facts through the head, and a consequent distortion, +suffocation, and starvation of the primary centers of consciousness. A +nice day of reckoning we've got in front of us.</p> + +<p>Let us lead forth, by all means. But let us not have mental knowledge +before us as the goal of the leading. Much less let us make of it a +vicious circle in which we lead the unhappy child-mind, like a cow in +a ring at a fair. We don't want to educate children so that they may +understand. Understanding is a fallacy and a vice in most people. I +don't even want my child to know, much less to understand. <i>I</i> don't +want my child to know that five fives are twenty-five, any more than I +want my child to wear my hat or my boots. I <i>don't</i> want my child to +<i>know</i>. If he wants five fives let him count them on his fingers. As +for his little mind, give it a rest, and let his dynamic self be +alert. He will ask "why" often enough. But he more often asks why the +sun shines, or why men have mustaches, or why<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> grass is green, than +anything sensible. Most of a child's questions are, and should be, +unanswerable. They are not questions at all. They are exclamations of +wonder, they are <i>remarks</i> half-sceptically addressed. When a child +says, "Why is grass green?" he half implies. "Is it really green, or +is it just taking me in?" And we solemnly begin to prate about +chlorophyll. Oh, imbeciles, idiots, inexcusable owls!</p> + +<p>The whole of a child's development goes on from the great dynamic +centers, and is basically non-mental. To introduce mental activity is +to arrest the dynamic activity, and stultify true dynamic development. +By the age of twenty-one our young people are helpless, hopeless, +selfless, floundering mental entities, with nothing in front of them, +because they have been starved from the roots, systematically, for +twenty-one years, and fed through the head. They have had all their +mental excitements, sex and everything, all through the head, and when +it comes to the actual thing, why, there's nothing in it. <i>Blasé.</i> The +affective centers have been exhausted from the head.</p> + +<p>Before the age of fourteen, children should be taught only to move, to +act, to <i>do</i>. And they should be taught as little as possible even of +this.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> Adults simply cannot and do not know any more what the mode of +childish intelligence is. Adults <i>always</i> interfere. They <i>always</i> +force the adult mental mode. Therefore children must be preserved from +adult instructions.</p> + +<p>Make a child work—yes. Make it do little jobs. Keep a fine and +delicate and fierce discipline, so that the little jobs are performed +as perfectly as is consistent with the child's nature. Make the child +alert, proud, and becoming in its movements. Make it know very +definitely that it shall not and must not trespass on other people's +privacy or patience. Teach it songs, tell it tales. But <i>never</i> +instruct it school-wise. And mostly, leave it alone, send it away to +be with other children and to get in and out of mischief, and in and +out of danger. Forget your child altogether as much as possible.</p> + +<p>All this is the active and strenuous business of parents, and must not +be shelved off on to strangers. It is the business of parents +<i>mentally</i> to forget but dynamically never to forsake their children.</p> + +<p>It is no use expecting parents to know <i>why</i> schools are closed, and +<i>why</i> they, the parents, must be quite responsible for their own +children during the first ten years. If it is quite useless to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> expect +parents to understand a theory of relativity, much less will they +understand the development of the dynamic consciousness. But why should +they understand? It is the business of very few to understand and for +the mass, it is their business to believe and not to bother, but to be +honorable and humanly to fulfill their human responsibilities. To give +active obedience to their leaders, and to possess their own souls in +natural pride.</p> + +<p>Some must understand why a child is not to be mentally educated. Some +must have a faint inkling of the processes of consciousness during the +first fourteen years. Some must know what a child beholds, when it +looks at a horse, and what it means when it says, "Why is grass +green?" The answer to this question, by the way, is "Because it is."</p> + +<p>The interplay of the four dynamic centers follows no one conceivable +law. Mental activity continues according to a law of co-relation. But +there is no logical or rational co-relation in the dynamic +consciousness. It pulses on inconsequential, and it would be +impossible to determine any sequence. Out of the very lack of sequence +in dynamic consciousness does the individual himself develop. The +dynamic abstrac<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span>tion of a child's precepts follows no mental law, and +even no law which can ever be mentally propounded. And this is why it +is utterly pernicious to set a child making a clay relief-map of its +own district, or to ask a child to draw conclusions from given +observations. Dynamically, a child draws no conclusions. All things +still remain dynamically possible. A conclusion drawn is a nail in the +coffin of a child's developing being. Let a child make a clay +landscape, if it likes. But entirely according to its own fancy, and +without conclusions drawn. Only, let the landscape be vividly +made—always the discipline of the soul's full attention. "Oh, but +where are the factory chimneys?"—or else—"Why have you left out the +gas-works?" or "Do you call that sloppy thing a church?" The +particular focus should be vivid, and the record in some way true. The +soul must give earnest attention, that is all.</p> + +<p>And so actively disciplined, the child develops for the first ten +years. We need not be afraid of letting children see the passions and +reactions of adult life. Only we must not strain the <i>sympathies</i> of a +child, in <i>any</i> direction, particularly the direction of love and +pity. Nor must we introduce the fallacy of right and wrong. +Spon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span>taneous distaste should take the place of right and wrong. And +least of all must there be a cry: "You see, dear, you don't +understand. When you are older—" A child's sagacity is better than an +adult understanding, anyhow.</p> + +<p>Of course it is ten times criminal to tell young children facts about +sex, or to implicate them in adult relationships. A child has a strong +evanescent sex consciousness. It instinctively writes impossible words +on back walls. But this is not a fully conscious mental act. It is a +kind of dream act—quite natural. The child's curious, shadowy, +indecent sex-knowledge is quite in the course of nature. And does +nobody any harm at all. Adults had far better not notice it. But if a +child sees a cockerel tread a hen, or two dogs coupling, well and +good. It <i>should</i> see these things. Only, without comment. Let nothing +be exaggeratedly hidden. By instinct, let us preserve the decent +privacies. But if a child occasionally sees its parent nude, taking a +bath, all the better. Or even sitting in the W. C. Exaggerated secrecy +is bad. But indecent exposure is also very bad. But worst of all is +dragging in the <i>mental</i> consciousness of these shadowy dynamic +realities.</p> + +<p>In the same way, to talk to a child about an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> adult is vile. Let +adults keep their adult feelings and communications for people of +their own age. But if a child sees its parents violently quarrel, all +the better. There must be storms. And a child's dynamic understanding +is far deeper and more penetrating than our sophisticated +interpretation. But <i>never</i> make a child a party to adult affairs. +Never drag the child in. Refuse its sympathy on such occasions. Always +treat it as if it had <i>no</i> business to hear, even if it is present and +<i>must</i> hear. Truly, it has no business mentally to hear. And the +dynamic soul will always weigh things up and dispose of them properly, +if there be no interference of adult comment or adult desire for +sympathy. It is despicable for any one parent to accept a child's +sympathy against the other parent. And the one who <i>received</i> the +sympathy is always more contemptible than the one who is hated.</p> + +<p>Of course so many children are born to-day unnaturally mentally awake +and alive to adult affairs, that there is nothing left but to tell +them everything, crudely: or else, much better, to say: "Ah, get out, +you know too much, you make me sick."</p> + +<p>To return to the question of sex. A child is born sexed. A child is +either male or female, in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> the whole of its psyche and physique is +either male or female. Every single living cell is either male or +female, and will remain either male or female as long as life lasts. +And every single cell in every male child is male, and every cell in +every female child is female. The talk about a third sex, or about the +indeterminate sex, is just to pervert the issue.</p> + +<p>Biologically, it is true, the rudimentary formation of both sexes is +found in every individual. That doesn't mean that every individual is +a bit of both, or either, <i>ad lib.</i> After a sufficient period of +idealism, men become hopelessly self-conscious. That is, the great +affective centers no longer act spontaneously, but always wait for +control from the head. This always breeds a great fluster in the +psyche, and the poor self-conscious individual cannot help posing and +posturing. Our ideal has taught us to be gentle and wistful: rather +girlish and yielding, and <i>very</i> yielding in our sympathies. In fact, +many young men feel so very like what they imagine a girl must feel, +that hence they draw the conclusion that they must have a large share +of female sex inside them. False conclusion.</p> + +<p>These girlish men have often, to-day, the finest maleness, once it is +put to the test. How is it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> then that they feel, and look, so girlish? +It is largely a question of the direction of the polarized flow. Our +ideal has taught us to be <i>so</i> loving and <i>so</i> submissive and <i>so</i> +yielding in our sympathy, that the mode has become automatic in many +men. Now in what we will call the "natural" mode, man has his +positivity in the volitional centers, and women in the sympathetic. In +fulfilling the Christian love ideal, however, men have reversed this. +Man has assumed the gentle, all-sympathetic rôle, and woman has become +the energetic party, with the authority in her hands. The male is the +sensitive, sympathetic nature, the woman the active, effective, +authoritative. So that the male acts as the passive, or recipient pole +of attraction, the female as the active, positive, exertive pole, in +human relations. Which is a reversal of the old flow. The woman is now +the initiator, man the responder. They seem to play each other's +parts. But man is purely male, playing woman's part, and woman is +purely female, however manly. The gulf between Heliogabalus, or the +most womanly man on earth, and the most manly woman, is just the same +as ever: just the same old gulf between the sexes. The man is male, +the woman is female. Only they are playing one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> another's parts, as +they must at certain periods. The dynamic polarity has swung around.</p> + +<p>If we look a little closer, we can define this positive and negative +business better. As a matter of fact, positive and negative, passive +and active cuts both ways. If the man, as thinker and doer, is active, +or positive, and the woman negative, then, on the other hand, as the +initiator of emotion, of feeling, and of sympathetic understanding the +woman is positive, the man negative. The man may be the initiator in +action, but the woman is initiator in emotion. The man has the +initiative as far as voluntary activity goes, and the woman the +initiative as far as sympathetic activity goes. In love, it is the +woman naturally who loves, the man who is loved. In love, woman is the +positive, man the negative. It is woman who asks, in love, and man who +answers. In life, the reverse is the case. In knowing and in doing, +man is positive and woman negative: man initiates, and woman lives up +to it.</p> + +<p>Naturally this nicely arranged order of things may be reversed. Action +and utterance, which are male, are polarized against feeling, emotion, +which are female. And which is positive, which negative? Was man, the +eternal protagonist, born of woman, from her womb of fathomless<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> +emotion? Or was woman, with her deep womb of emotion, born from the +rib of active man, the first created? Man, the doer, the knower, the +original in <i>being</i>, is he lord of life? Or is woman, the great +Mother, who bore us from the womb of love, is she the supreme Goddess?</p> + +<p>This is the question of all time. And as long as man and woman endure, +so will the answer be given, first one way, then the other. Man, as +the utterer, usually claims that Eve was created out of his spare rib: +from the field of the creative, upper dynamic consciousness, that is. +But woman, as soon as she gets a word in, points to the fact that man +inevitably, poor darling, is the issue of his mother's womb. So the +battle rages.</p> + +<p>But some men always agree with the woman. Some men always yield to +woman the creative positivity. And in certain periods, such as the +present, the majority of men concur in regarding woman as the source +of life, the first term in creation: woman, the mother, the prime +being.</p> + +<p>And then, the whole polarity shifts over. Man still remains the doer +and thinker. But he is so only in the service of emotional and +procreative woman. His highest moment is now the emotional moment when +he gives himself up to the woman, when he forms the perfect answer<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> +for her great emotional and procreative asking. All his thinking, all +his activity in the world only contributes to this great moment, when +he is fulfilled in the emotional passion of the woman, the birth of +rebirth, as Whitman calls it. In his consummation in the emotional +passion of a woman, man is reborn, which is quite true.</p> + +<p>And there is the point at which we all now stick. Life, thought, and +activity, all are devoted truly to the great end of Woman, wife and +mother.</p> + +<p>Man has now entered on to his negative mode. Now, his consummation is +in feeling, not in action. Now, his activity is all of the domestic +order and all his thought goes to proving that nothing matters except +that birth shall continue and woman shall rock in the nest of this +globe like a bird who covers her eggs in some tall tree. Man is the +fetcher, the carrier, the sacrifice, the crucified, and the reborn of +woman.</p> + +<p>This being so, the whole tendency of his nature changes. Instead of +being assertive and rather insentient, he becomes wavering and +sensitive. He begins to have as many feelings—nay, more than a woman. +His heroism is all in altruistic endurance. He worships pity and +tenderness and weakness, even in himself. In short, he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> takes on very +largely the original rôle of woman. Woman meanwhile becomes the +fearless, inwardly relentless, determined positive party. She grips +the responsibility. The hand that rocks the cradle rules the world. +Nay, she makes man discover that cradles should not be rocked, in +order that her hands may be left free. She is now a queen of the +earth, and inwardly a fearsome tyrant. She keeps pity and tenderness +emblazoned on her banners. But God help the man whom she pities. +Ultimately she tears him to bits.</p> + +<p>Therefore we see the reversal of the old poles. Man becomes the +emotional party, woman the positive and active. Man begins to show +strong signs of the peculiarly strong passive sex desire, the desire +to be taken, which is considered characteristic of woman. Man begins +to have all the feelings of woman—or all the feelings which he +attributed to woman. He becomes more feminine than woman ever was, and +worships his own femininity, calling it the highest. In short, he +begins to exhibit all signs of sexual complexity. He begins to imagine +he really is half female. And certainly woman seems very male. So the +hermaphrodite fallacy revives again.</p> + +<p>But it is all a fallacy. Man, in the midst of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> all his effeminacy, is +still male and nothing but male. And woman, though she harangue in +Parliament or patrol the streets with a helmet on her head, is still +completely female. They are only playing each other's rôles, because +the poles have swung into reversion. The compass is reversed. But that +doesn't mean that the north pole has become the south pole, or that +each is a bit of both.</p> + +<p>Of course a woman should stick to her own natural emotional +positivity. But then man must stick to his own positivity of <i>being</i>, +of action, <i>disinterested, non-domestic, male</i> action, which is not +devoted to the increase of the female. Once man vacates his camp of +sincere, passionate positivity in disinterested being, his supreme +responsibility to fulfill his own profoundest impulses, with reference +to none but God or his own soul, not taking woman into count at all, +in this primary responsibility to his own deepest soul; once man +vacates this strong citadel of his own genuine, not spurious, +divinity; then in comes woman, picks up the scepter and begins to +conduct a rag-time band.</p> + +<p>Man remains man, however he may put on wistfulness and tenderness like +petticoats, and sensibilities like pearl ornaments. Your sen<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span>sitive +little big-eyed boy, so much more gentle and loving than his harder +sister, is male for all that, believe me. Perhaps evilly male, so +mothers may learn to their cost: and wives still more.</p> + +<p>Of course there should be a great balance between the sexes. Man, in +the daytime, must follow his own soul's greatest impulse, and give +himself to life-work and risk himself to death. It is not woman who +claims the highest in man. It is a man's own religious soul that +drives him on beyond woman, to his supreme activity. For his highest, +man is responsible to God alone. He may not pause to remember that he +has a life to lose, or a wife and children to leave. He must carry +forward the banner of life, though seven worlds perish, with all the +wives and mothers and children in them. Hence Jesus, "Woman, what have +I to do with thee?" Every man that lives has to say it again to his +wife or mother, once he has any work or mission in hand, that comes +from his soul.</p> + +<p>But again, no man is a blooming marvel for twenty-four hours a day. +Jesus or Napoleon or any other of them ought to have been man enough +to be able to come home at tea-time and put his slippers on and sit +under the spell of his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> wife. For there you are, the woman has her +world, her positivity: the world of love, of emotion, of sympathy. And +it behooves every man in his hour to take off his shoes and relax and +give himself up to his woman and her world. Not to give up his +purpose. But to give up himself for a time to her who is his +mate.—And so it is one detests the clock-work Kant, and the +petit-bourgeois Napoleon divorcing his Josephine for a Hapsburg—or +even Jesus, with his "Woman, what have I to do with thee?"—He might +have added "just now."—They were all failures.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h3>THE BIRTH OF SEX</h3> + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>he last chapter was a chapter of semi-digression. We now return to +the straight course. Is the straightness none too evident? Ah well, +it's a matter of relativity. A child is born with one sex only, and +remains always single in his sex. There is no intermingling, only a +great change of rôles is possible. But man in the female rôle is still +male.</p> + +<p>Sex—that is to say, maleness and femaleness—is present from the +moment of birth, and in every act or deed of every child. But sex in +the real sense of dynamic sexual relationship, this does not exist in +a child, and cannot exist until puberty and after. True, children have +a sort of sex consciousness. Little boys and little girls may even +commit indecencies together. And still it is nothing vital. It is a +sort of shadow activity, a sort of dream-activity. It has no very +profound effect.</p> + +<p>But still, boys and girls should be kept apart<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> as much as possible, +that they may have some sort of respect and fear for the gulf that +lies between them in nature, and for the great strangeness which each +has to offer the other, finally. We are all wrong when we say there is +no vital difference between the sexes. There is every difference. +Every bit, every cell in a boy is male, every cell is female in a +woman, and must remain so. Women can never feel or know as men do. And +in the reverse men can never feel and know, dynamically, as women do. +Man, acting in the passive or feminine polarity, is still man, and he +doesn't have one single unmanly feeling. And women, when they speak +and write, utter not one single word that men have not taught them. +Men learn their feelings from women, women learn their mental +consciousness from men. And so it will ever be. Meanwhile, women live +forever by feeling, and men live forever from an inherent sense of +<i>purpose</i>. Feeling is an end in itself. This is unspeakable truth to a +woman, and never true for one minute to a man. When man, in the +Epicurean spirit, embraces feeling, he makes himself a martyr to +it—like Maupassant or Oscar Wilde. Woman will <i>never</i> understand the +depth of the spirit of purpose in man, his deeper<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> spirit. And man +will never understand the sacredness of feeling to woman. Each will +play at the other's game, but they will remain apart.</p> + +<p>The whole mode, the whole everything is really different in man and +woman. Therefore we should keep boys and girls apart, that they are +pure and virgin in themselves. On mixing with one another, in becoming +familiar, in being "pals," they lose their own male and female +integrity. And they lose the treasure of the future, the vital sex +polarity, the dynamic magic of life. For the magic and the dynamism +rests on <i>otherness</i>.</p> + +<p>For actual sex is a vital polarity. And a polarity which rouses into +action, as we know, at puberty.</p> + +<p>And how? As we know, a child lives from the great field of dynamic +consciousness established between the four poles of the dynamic +psyche, two great poles of sympathy, two great poles of will. The +solar plexus and the lumbar ganglion, great nerve-centers below the +diaphragm, act as the dynamic origin of all consciousness in man, and +are immediately polarized by the other two nerve-centers, the cardiac +plexus and the thoracic ganglion above the diaphragm. At these four +poles the whole flow,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> both within the individual and from without +him, of dynamic consciousness and dynamic creative relationship is +centered. These four first poles constitute the first field of dynamic +consciousness for the first twelve or fourteen years of the life of +every child.</p> + +<p>And then a change takes place. It takes place slowly, gradually and +inevitably, utterly beyond our provision or control. The living soul +is unfolding itself in another great metamorphosis.</p> + +<p>What happens, in the biological psyche, is that deeper centers of +consciousness and function come awake. Deep in the lower body the +great sympathetic center, the hypogastric plexus has been acting all +the time in a kind of dream-automatism, balanced by its corresponding +voluntary center, the sacral ganglion. At the age of twelve these two +centers begin slowly to rumble awake, with a deep reverberant force +that changes the whole constitution of the life of the individual.</p> + +<p>And as these two centers, the sympathetic center of the deeper +abdomen, and the voluntary center of the loins, gradually sparkle into +wakeful, <i>conscious</i> activity, their corresponding poles are roused in +the upper body. In the region of the throat and neck, the so-called +cervical plex<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span>uses and the cervical ganglia dawn into activity.</p> + +<p>We have now another field of dawning dynamic consciousness, that will +extend far beyond the first. And now various things happen to us. +First of all actual sex establishes its strange and troublesome +presence within us. This is the massive wakening of the lower body. +And then, in the upper body, the breasts of a woman begin to develop, +her throat changes its form. And in the man, the voice breaks, the +beard begins to grow round the lips and on to the throat. There are +the obvious physiological changes resulting from the gradual bursting +into free activity of the hypogastric plexus and the sacral ganglion, +in the lower body, and of the cervical plexuses and ganglia of the +neck, in the upper body.</p> + +<p>Why the growth of hair should start at the lower and upper sympathetic +regions we cannot say. Perhaps for protection. Perhaps to preserve +these powerful yet supersensitive nodes from the inclemency of changes +in temperature, which might cause a derangement. Perhaps for the sake +of protective warning, as hair warns when it is touched. Perhaps for a +screen against various dynamic vibrations, and as a receiver of other +suited dynamic vibrations. It may be that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> even the hair of the head +acts as a sensitive vibration-medium for conveying currents of +physical and vitalistic activity to and from the brain. And perhaps +from the centers of intense vital surcharge hair springs as a sort of +annunciation or declaration, like a crest of life-assertion. Perhaps +all these things, and perhaps others.</p> + +<p>But with the bursting awake of the four new poles of dynamic +consciousness and being, change takes place in everything, the +features now begin to take individual form, the limbs develop out of +the soft round matrix of child-form, the body resolves itself into +distinctions. A strange creative change in being has taken place. The +child before puberty is quite another thing from the child after +puberty. Strange indeed is this new birth, this rising from the sea of +childhood into a new being. It is a resurrection which we fear.</p> + +<p>And now, a new world, a new heaven and a new earth. Now new +relationships are formed, the old ones retire from their prominence. +Now mother and father inevitably give way before masters and +mistresses, brothers and sisters yield to friends. This is the period +of <i>Schwärmerei</i>, of young adoration and of real initial friendships.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> +A child before puberty has playmates. After puberty he has friends and +enemies.</p> + +<p>A whole new field of passional relationship. And the old bonds +relaxing, the old love retreating. The father and mother bonds now +relax, though they never break. The family love wanes, though it never +dies.</p> + +<p>It is the hour of the stranger. Let the stranger now enter the soul.</p> + +<p>And it is the first hour of true individuality, the first hour of +genuine, responsible solitariness. A child knows the abyss of +forlornness. But an adolescent alone knows the strange pain of growing +into his own isolation of individuality.</p> + +<p>All this change is an agony and a bliss. It is a cataclysm and a new +world. It is our most serious hour, perhaps. And yet we cannot be +responsible for it.</p> + +<p>Now sex comes into active being. Until puberty, sex is submerged, +nascent, incipient only. After puberty, it is a tremendous factor.</p> + +<p>What is sex, really? We can never say, satisfactorily. But we know so +much: we know that it is a dynamic polarity between human beings, and +a circuit of force <i>always</i> flowing. The psychoanalyst is right so +far. There can be no vivid relation between two adult individuals<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> +which does not consist in a dynamic polarized flow of vitalistic force +or magnetism or electricity, call it what you will, between these two +people. Yet is this dynamic flow inevitably sexual in nature?</p> + +<p>This is the moot point for psychoanalysis. But let us look at sex, in +its obvious manifestation. The <i>sexual</i> relation between man and woman +consummates in the act of coition. Now what is the act of coition? We +know its functional purpose of procreation. But, after all our +experience and all our poetry and novels we know that the procreative +purpose of sex is, to the individual man and woman, just a side-show. +To the individual, the act of coition is a great psychic experience, a +vital experience of tremendous importance. On this vital individual +experience the life and very being of the individual largely depends.</p> + +<p>But what is the experience? Untellable. Only, we know something. We +know that in the act of coition the <i>blood</i> of the individual man, +acutely surcharged with intense vital electricity—we know no word, so +say "electricity," by analogy—rises to a culmination, in a tremendous +magnetic urge towards the magnetic blood of the female. The whole of +the living blood in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> the two individuals forms a field of intense, +polarized magnetic attraction. So, the two poles must be brought into +contact. In the act of coition, the two seas of blood in the two +individuals, rocking and surging towards contact, as near as possible, +clash into a oneness. A great flash of interchange occurs, like an +electric spark when two currents meet or like lightning out of the +densely surcharged clouds. There is a lightning flash which passes +through the blood of both individuals, there is a thunder of sensation +which rolls in diminishing crashes down the nerves of each—and then +the tension passes.</p> + +<p>The two individuals are separate again. But are they as they were +before? Is the air the same after a thunder-storm as before? No. The +air is as it were new, fresh, tingling with newness. So is the blood +of man and woman after successful coition. After a false coition, like +prostitution, there is not newness but a certain disintegration.</p> + +<p>But after coition, the actual chemical constitution of the blood is so +changed, that usually sleep intervenes, to allow the time for +chemical, biological readjustment through the whole system.</p> + +<p>So, the blood is changed and renewed, re<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span>freshed, almost recreated, +like the atmosphere after thunder. Out of the newness of the living +blood pass the new strange waves which beat upon the great dynamic +centers of the nerves: primarily upon the hypogastric plexus and the +sacral ganglion. From these centers rise new impulses, new vision, new +being, rising like Aphrodite from the foam of the new tide of blood. +And so individual life goes on.</p> + +<p>Perhaps, then, we will allow ourselves to say what, in psychic +individual reality, is the act of coition. It is the bringing together +of the surcharged electric blood of the male with the polarized +electric blood of the female, with the result of a tremendous flashing +interchange, which alters the constitution of the blood, and the very +quality of <i>being</i>, in both.</p> + +<p>And this, surely, is sex. But is this the whole of sex? That is the +question.</p> + +<p>After coition, we say the blood is renewed. We say that from the new, +finely sparkling blood new thrills pass into the great affective +centers of the lower body, new thrills of feeling, of impulse, of +energy.—And what about these new thrills?</p> + +<p>Now, a new story. The new thrills are passed on to the great upper +centers of the dynamic<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> body. The individual polarity now changes, +within the individual system. The upper centers, cardiac plexus and +cervical plexuses, thoracic ganglion and cervical ganglia now assume +positivity. These, the upper polarized centers, have now the positive +rôle to play, the solar and the hypogastric plexuses, the lumbar and +the sacral ganglia, these have the submissive, negative rôle for the +time being.</p> + +<p>And what then? What now, that the upper centers are finely active in +positivity? Now it is a different story. Now there is new vision in +the eyes, new hearing in the ears, new voice in the throat and speech +on the lips. Now the new song rises, the brain tingles to new thought, +the heart craves for new activity.</p> + +<p>The heart craves for new activity. For new <i>collective</i> activity. That +is, for a new polarized connection with other beings, other men.</p> + +<p>Is this new craving for polarized communion with others, this craving +for a new unison, is it sexual, like the original craving for the +woman? Not at all. The whole polarity is different. Now, the positive +poles are the poles of the breast and shoulders and throat, the poles +of activity and full consciousness. Men, being themselves made new +after the act of coition,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> wish to make the world new. A new, +passionate polarity springs up between men who are bent on the same +activity, the polarity between man and woman sinks to passivity. It is +now daytime, and time to forget sex, time to be busy making a new +world.</p> + +<p>Is this new polarity, this new circuit of passion between comrades and +co-workers, is this also sexual? It is a vivid circuit of polarized +passion. Is it hence sex?</p> + +<p>It is not. Because what are the poles of positive connection?—the +upper, busy poles. What is the dynamic contact?—a unison in spirit, +in understanding, and a pure commingling in one great <i>work</i>. A +mingling of the individual passion into one great <i>purpose</i>. Now this +is also a grand consummation for men, this mingling of many with one +great impassioned purpose. But is this sex? Knowing what sex is, can +we call this other also sex? We cannot.</p> + +<p>This meeting of many in one great passionate purpose is not sex, and +should never be confused with sex. It is a great motion in the +opposite direction. And I am sure that the ultimate, greatest desire +in men is this desire for great <i>purposive</i> activity. When man loses +his deep sense of purposive, creative activity, he feels lost, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> is +lost. When he makes the sexual consummation the supreme consummation, +even in his <i>secret</i> soul, he falls into the beginnings of despair. +When he makes woman, or the woman and child the great center of life +and of life-significance, he falls into the beginnings of despair.</p> + +<p>Man must bravely stand by his own soul, his own responsibility as the +creative vanguard of life. And he must also have the courage to go +home to his woman and become a perfect answer to her deep sexual call. +But he must never confuse his two issues. Primarily and supremely man +is <i>always</i> the pioneer of life, adventuring onward into the unknown, +alone with his own temerarious, dauntless soul. Woman for him exists +only in the twilight, by the camp fire, when day has departed. Evening +and the night are hers.</p> + +<p>The psychoanalysts, driving us back to the sexual consummation always, +do us infinite damage.</p> + +<p>We have to break away, back to the great unison of manhood in some +passionate <i>purpose</i>. Now this is not like sex. Sex is always +individual. A man has his own sex: nobody else's. And sexually he goes +as a single individual; he can mingle only singly. So that to make sex +a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> general affair is just a perversion and a lie. You can't get people +and talk to them about their sex, as if it were a common interest.</p> + +<p>We have got to get back to the great purpose of manhood, a passionate +unison in actively making a world. This is a real commingling of many. +And in such a commingling we forfeit the individual. In the +commingling of sex we are alone with <i>one</i> partner. It is an +individual affair, there is no superior or inferior. But in the +commingling of a passionate purpose, each individual sacredly abandons +his individual. In the living faith of his soul, he surrenders his +individuality to the great urge which is upon him. He may have to +surrender his name, his fame, his fortune, his life, everything. But +once a man, in the integrity of his own individual soul, <i>believes</i>, +he surrenders his own individuality to his belief, and becomes one of +a united body. He knows what he does. He makes the surrender +honorably, in agreement with his own soul's deepest desire. But he +surrenders, and remains responsible for the purity of his surrender.</p> + +<p>But what if he believes that his sexual consummation is his supreme +consummation? Then he serves the great purpose to which he pledges<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> +himself only as long as it pleases him. After which he turns it down, +and goes back to sex. With sex as the one accepted prime motive, the +world drifts into despair and anarchy.</p> + +<p>Of all countries, America has most to fear from anarchy, even from one +single moment's lapse into anarchy. The old nations are <i>organically</i> +fixed into classes, but America not. You can shake Europe to atoms. +And yet peasants fall back to peasantry, artisans to industrial labor, +upper classes to their control—inevitably. But can you say the same +of America?</p> + +<p>America must not lapse for one single moment into anarchy. It would be +the end of her. She must drift no nearer to anarchy. She is near +enough.</p> + +<p>Well, then, Americans must make a choice. It is a choice between +belief in man's creative, spontaneous soul, and man's automatic power +of production and reproduction. It is a choice between serving <i>man</i>, +or woman. It is a choice between yielding the soul to a leader, +leaders, or yielding only to the woman, wife, mistress, or mother.</p> + +<p>The great collective passion of belief which brings men together, +comrades and co-workers, passionately obeying their soul-chosen leader +or<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> leaders, this is not a sex passion. Not in any sense. Sex holds +any <i>two</i> people together, but it tends to disintegrate society, +unless it is subordinated to the great dominating male passion of +collective <i>purpose</i>.</p> + +<p>But when the sex passion submits to the great purposive passion, then +you have fulness. And no great purposive passion can endure long +unless it is established upon the fulfillment in the vast majority of +individuals of the true sexual passion. No great motive or ideal or +social principle can endure for any length of time unless based upon +the sexual fulfillment of the vast majority of individuals concerned.</p> + +<p>It cuts both ways. Assert sex as the predominant fulfillment, and you +get the collapse of living purpose in man. You get anarchy. Assert +<i>purposiveness</i> as the one supreme and pure activity of life, and you +drift into barren sterility, like our business life of to-day, and our +political life. You become sterile, you make anarchy inevitable. And +so there you are. You have got to base your great purposive activity +upon the intense sexual fulfillment of all your individuals. That was +how Egypt endured. But you have got to keep your sexual fulfillment +even then subordinate, just subordinate to the great<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> passion of +purpose: subordinate by a hair's breadth only: but still, by that +hair's breadth, subordinate.</p> + +<p>Perhaps we can see now a little better—to go back to the child—where +Freud is wrong in attributing a sexual motive to all human activity. +It is obvious there is no real sexual motive in a child, for example. +The great sexual centers are not even awake. True, even in a child of +three, rudimentary sex throws strange shadows on the wall, in its +approach from the distance. But these are only an uneasy intrusion +from the as-yet-uncreated, unready biological centers. The great +sexual centers of the hypogastric plexus, and the immensely powerful +sacral ganglion are slowly prepared, developed in a kind of prenatal +gestation during childhood before puberty. But even an unborn child +kicks in the womb. So do the great sex-centers give occasional blind +kicks in a child. It is part of the phenomenon of childhood. But we +must be most careful not to charge these rather unpleasant apparitions +or phenomena against the individual boy or girl. We must be <i>very</i> +careful not to drag the matter into mental consciousness. Shoo it +away. Reprimand it with a pah! and a faugh! and a bit of contempt. But +do not get into any heat or any<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> fear. Do not startle a passional +attention. Drive the whole thing away like the shadow it is, and be +<i>very</i> careful not to drive it into the consciousness. Be very careful +to plant no seed of burning shame or horror. Throw over it merely the +cold water of contemptuous indifference, dismissal.</p> + +<p>After puberty, a child may as well be told the simple and necessary +facts of sex. As things stand, the parent may as well do it. But +briefly, coldly, and with as cold a dismissal as possible.—"Look +here, you're not a child any more; you know it, don't you? You're +going to be a man. And you know what that means. It means you're going +to marry a woman later on, and get children. You know it, and I know +it. But in the meantime, leave yourself alone. I know you'll have a +lot of bother with yourself, and your feelings. I know what is +happening to you. And I know you get excited about it. But you +needn't. Other men have all gone through it. So don't you go creeping +off by yourself and doing things on the sly. It won't do you any +good.—I know what you'll do, because we've all been through it. I +know the thing will keep coming on you at night. But remember that I +know. Remember. And re<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span>member that I want you to leave yourself alone. +I know what it is, I tell you. I've been through it all myself. You've +got to go through these years, before you find a woman you want to +marry, and whom you can marry. I went through them myself, and got +myself worked up a good deal more than was good for me.—Try to +contain yourself. Always try to contain yourself, and be a man. That's +the only thing. Always try and be manly, and quiet in yourself. +Remember I know what it is. I've been the same, in the same state that +you are in. And probably I've behaved more foolishly and perniciously +than ever you will. So come to me if anything <i>really</i> bothers you. +And don't feel sly and secret. I do know just what you've got and what +you haven't. I've been as bad and perhaps worse than you. And the only +thing I want of you is to be manly. Try and be manly, and quiet in +yourself."</p> + +<p>That is about as much as a father can say to a boy, at puberty. You +have to be <i>very</i> careful what you do: especially if you are a parent. +To translate sex into mental ideas is vile, to make a scientific fact +of it is death.</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact there should be some sort of initiation into true +adult consciousness. Boys<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> should be taken away from their mothers and +sisters as much as possible at adolescence. They should be given into +some real manly charge. And there should be some actual initiation +into sex life. Perhaps like the savages, who make the boy die again, +symbolically, and pull him forth through some narrow aperture, to be +born again, and make him suffer and endure terrible hardships, to make +a great dynamic effect on the consciousness, a terrible dynamic sense +of change in the very being. In short, a long, violent initiation, +from which the lad emerges emaciated, but cut off forever from +childhood, entered into the serious, responsible pale of manhood. And +with his whole consciousness convulsed by a great change, as his +dynamic psyche actually is convulsed.—And something in the same way, +to initiate girls into womanhood.</p> + +<p>There should be the intense dynamic reaction: the physical suffering +and the physical realization sinking deep into the soul, changing the +soul for ever. Sex should come upon us as a terrible thing of +suffering and privilege and mystery: a mysterious metamorphosis come +upon us, and a new terrible power given us, and a new responsibility. +Telling?—What's the good of telling?—The mystery, the terror, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> +the tremendous power of sex should never be explained away. The mass +of mankind should <i>never</i> be acquainted with the scientific biological +facts of sex: <i>never</i>. The mystery must remain in its dark secrecy, +and its dark, powerful dynamism. The reality of sex lies in the great +dynamic convulsions in the soul. And as such it should be realized, a +great creative-convulsive seizure upon the soul.—To make it a matter +of test-tube mixtures, chemical demonstrations and trashy lock-and-key +symbols is just blasting. Even more sickening is the line: "You see, +dear, one day you'll love a man as I love Daddy, more than anything +else in the <i>whole</i> world. And then, dear, I hope you'll marry him. +Because if you do you'll be happy, and I want you to be happy, my +love. And so I hope you'll marry the man you really love (kisses the +child).—And then, darling, there will come a lot of things you know +nothing about now. You'll want to have a dear little baby, won't you, +darling? Your own dear little baby. And your husband's as well. +Because it'll be his, too. You know that, don't you, dear? It will be +born from both of you. And you don't know how, do you? Well, it will +come from right inside you, dear, out of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span> your own inside. You came +out of mother's inside, etc., etc."</p> + +<p>But I suppose there's really nothing else to be done, given the world +and society as we've got them now. The mother is doing her best.</p> + +<p>But it is all wrong. It is wrong to make sex appear as if it were part +of the dear-darling-love smarm: the spiritual love. It is even worse +to take the scientific test-tube line. It all kills the great +effective dynamism of life, and substitutes the mere ash of mental +ideas and tricks.</p> + +<p>The scientific fact of sex is no more sex than a skeleton is a man. +Yet you'd think twice before you stock a skeleton in front of a lad +and said, "You see, my boy, this is what you are when you come to know +yourself."—And the ideal, lovey-dovey "explanation" of sex as +something wonderful and extra lovey-dovey, a bill-and-coo process of +obtaining a sweet little baby—or else "God made us so that we must do +this, to bring another dear little baby to life"—well, it just makes +one sick. It is disastrous to the deep sexual life. But perhaps that +is what we want.</p> + +<p>When humanity comes to its senses it will realize what a fearful Sodom +apple our understanding is. What terrible mouths and stomachs full of +bitter ash we've all got. And then we<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> shall take away "knowledge" and +"understanding," and lock them up along with the rest of poisons, to +be administered in small doses only by competent people.</p> + +<p>We have almost poisoned the mass of humanity to death with +<i>understanding</i>. The period of actual death and race-extermination is +not far off. We could have produced the same barrenness and frenzy of +nothingness in people, perhaps, by dinning it into them that every man +is just a charnel-house skeleton of unclean bones. Our "understanding," +our science and idealism have produced in people the same strange frenzy +of self-repulsion as if they saw their own skulls each time they looked +in the mirror. A man is a thing of scientific cause-and-effect and +biological process, draped in an ideal, is he? No wonder he sees the +skeleton grinning through the flesh.</p> + +<p>Our leaders have not loved men: they have loved ideas, and have been +willing to sacrifice passionate men on the altars of the +blood-drinking, ever-ash-thirsty ideal. Has President Wilson, or Karl +Marx, or Bernard Shaw ever felt one hot blood-pulse of love for the +working man, the half-conscious, deluded working man? Never. Each of +these leaders has wanted to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span> abstract him away from his own blood and +being, into some foul Methuselah or abstraction of a man.</p> + +<p>And me? There is no danger of the working man ever reading my books, +so I shan't hurt him that way. But oh, I would like to save him alive, +in his living, spontaneous, original being. I can't help it. It is my +passionate instinct.</p> + +<p>I would like him to give me back the responsibility for general +affairs, a responsibility which he can't acquit, and which saps his +life. I would like him to give me back the responsibility for the +future. I would like him to give me back the responsibility for +thought, for direction. I wish we could take hope and belief together. +I would undertake my share of the responsibility, if he gave me his +belief.</p> + +<p>I would like him to give me back books and newspapers and theories. +And I would like to give him back, in return, his old insouciance, and +rich, original spontaneity and fullness of life.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h3>PARENT LOVE</h3> + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_i.jpg" alt="I" width="25" height="50" /></div> +<p>n the serious hour of puberty, the individual passes into his second +phase of accomplishment. But there cannot be a perfect transition +unless all the activity is in full play in all the first four poles of +the psyche. Childhood is a chrysalis from which each must extricate +himself. And the struggling youth or maid cannot emerge unless by the +energy of all powers; he can never emerge if the whole mass of the +world and the tradition of love hold him back.</p> + +<p>Now we come to the greater peril of our particular form of idealism. +It is the idealism of love and of the spirit: the idealism of +yearning, outgoing love, of pure sympathetic communion and +"understanding." And this idealism recognizes as the highest earthly +love, the love of mother and child.</p> + +<p>And what does this mean? It means, for every delicately brought up +child, indeed for all the children who matter, a steady and +persistent<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> pressure upon the upper sympathetic centers, and a steady +and persistent starving of the lower centers, particularly the great +voluntary center of the lower body. The center of sensual, manly +independence, of exultation in the sturdy, defiant self, willfulness +and masterfulness and pride, this center is steadily suppressed. The +warm, swift, sensual self is steadily and persistently denied, damped, +weakened, throughout all the period of childhood. And by sensual we do +not mean greedy or ugly, we mean the deeper, more impulsive reckless +nature. Life must be always refined and superior. Love and happiness +must be the watchword. The willful, critical element of the spiritual +mode is never absent, the silent, if forbearing disapproval and +distaste is always ready. Vile bullying forbearance.</p> + +<p>With what result? The center of upper sympathy is abnormally, inflamedly +excited; and the centers of will are so deranged that they operate in +jerks and spasms. The true polarity of the sympathetic-voluntary system +within the child is so disturbed as to be almost deranged. Then we have +an exaggerated sensitiveness alternating with a sort of helpless fury: +and we have delicate frail children with nerves or with strange whims. +And we have the strange cold<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> obstinacy of the spiritual will, cold as +hell, fixed in a child.</p> + +<p>Then one parent, usually the mother, is the object of blind devotion, +whilst the other parent, usually the father, is an object of +resistance. The child is taught, however, that both parents should be +loved, and only loved: and that love, gentleness, pity, charity, and +all "higher" emotions, these alone are genuine feelings, all the rest +are false, to be rejected.</p> + +<p>With what result? The upper centers are developed to a degree of +unnatural acuteness and reaction—or again they fall numbed and +barren. And then between parents and children a painfully false +relation grows up: a relation as of two adults, either of two pure +lovers, or of two love-appearing people who are really trying to bully +one another. Instead of leaving the child with its own limited but +deep and incomprehensible feelings, the parent, hopelessly involved in +the sympathetic mode of selfless love, and spiritual love-will, +stimulates the child into a consciousness which does not belong to it, +on the one plane, and robs it of its own spontaneous consciousness and +freedom on the other plane.</p> + +<p>And this is the fatality. Long before puberty, by an exaggeration and +an intensity of spiritual<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> love from the parents, the second centers +of sympathy are artificially aroused into response. And there is an +irreparable disaster. Instead of seeing as a child should see, through +a glass, darkly, the child now opens premature eyes of sympathetic +cognition. Instead of knowing in part, as it should know, it begins, +at a fearfully small age, to know in full. The cervical plexuses and +the cervical ganglia, which should only begin to awake after +adolescence, these centers of the higher dynamic sympathy and +cognition, are both artificially stimulated, by the adult personal +love-emotion and love-will into response, in a quite young child, +sometimes even in an infant. This is a holy obscenity.</p> + +<p>Our particular mode of idealism causes us to suppress as far as +possible the sensual centers, to make them negative. The whole of the +activity is concentrated, as far as possible, in the upper or +spiritual centers, the centers of the breast and throat, which we will +call the centers of dynamic cognition, in contrast to the centers of +sensual comprehension below the diaphragm.</p> + +<p>And then a child arrives at puberty, with its upper nature already +roused into precocious action. The child nowadays is almost invariably +precocious in "understanding." In the north,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> spiritually precocious, +so that by the time it arrives at adolescence it already has +experienced the extended sympathetic reactions which should have lain +utterly dark. And it has experienced these extended reactions with +whom? With the parent or parents.</p> + +<p>Which is man devouring his own offspring. For to the parents belongs, +once and for all, the dynamic reaction on the first plane of +consciousness only, the reaction and relationship at the first four +poles of dynamic consciousness. When the second, the farther plane of +consciousness rouses into action, the relationship is with strangers. +All human instinct and all ethnology will prove this to us. What +sex-instinct there is in a child is always <i>adverse</i> to the parents.</p> + +<p>But also, the parents are all too quick. They all proceed to swallow +their children before the children can get out of their clutches. And +even if parents do send away their children at the age of puberty—to +school or elsewhere—it is not much good. The mischief has been done +before. For the first twelve years the parents and the whole community +forcibly insist on the child's living from the upper centers only, and +particularly the upper sympathetic centers, without the balance of the +warm, deep sensual<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> self. Parents and community alike insist on +rousing an adult sympathetic response, and a mental answer in the +child-schools, Sunday-schools, books, home-influence—all works in +this one pernicious way. But it is the home, the parents, that work +most effectively and intensely. There is the most intimate mesh of +love, love-bullying, and "understanding" in which a child is +entangled.</p> + +<p>So that a child arrives at the age of puberty already stripped of its +childhood's darkness, bound, and delivered over. Instead of waking now +to a whole new field of consciousness, a whole vast and wonderful new +dynamic impulse towards new connections, it finds itself fatally +bound. Puberty accomplishes itself. The hour of sex strikes. But there +is your child, bound, helpless. You have already aroused in it the +dynamic response to your own insatiable love-will. You have already +established between your child and yourself the dynamic relation in +the further plane of consciousness. You have got your child as sure as +if you had woven its flesh again with your own. You have done what it +is vicious for any parent to do: you have established between your +child and yourself the bond of adult love: the love of man for man, +woman<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> for woman, or man for woman. All your tenderness, your +cherishing will not excuse you. It only deepens your guilt. You have +established between your child and yourself the bond of further +sympathy. I do not speak of sex. I speak of pure sympathy, sacred +love. The parents establish between themselves and their child the +bond of the higher love, the further spiritual love, the sympathy of +the adult soul.</p> + +<p>And this is fatal. It is a sort of incest. It is a dynamic <i>spiritual</i> +incest, more dangerous than sensual incest, because it is more +intangible and less instinctively repugnant. But let psychoanalysis +fall into what discredit it may, it has done us this great service of +proving to us that the intense upper sympathy, indeed the dynamic +relation either of love-will or love-sympathy, between parent and +child, upon the upper plane, inevitably involves us in a conclusion of +incest.</p> + +<p>For although it is our aim to establish a purely spiritual dynamic +relation on the upper plane only, yet, because of the inevitable +polarity of the human psychic system, we shall arouse at the same time +a dynamic sensual activity on the lower plane, the deeper sensual +plane. We may be as pure as angels, and yet, being human, this will +and must inevitably happen. When Mrs.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> Ruskin said that John Ruskin +should have married his mother she spoke the truth. He <i>was</i> married +to his mother. For in spite of all our intention, all our creed, all +our purity, all our desire and all our will, once we arouse the +dynamic relation in the upper, higher plane of love, we inevitably +evoke a dynamic consciousness on the lower, deeper plane of sensual +love. And then what?</p> + +<p>Of course, parents can reply that their love, however intense, is +pure, and has absolutely no sensual element. Maybe—and maybe not. But +admit that it is so. It does not help. The intense excitement of the +upper centers of sympathy willy-nilly arouses the lower centers. It +arouses them to activity, even if it denies them any expression or any +polarized connection. Our psyche is so framed that activity aroused on +one plane provokes activity on the corresponding plane, automatically. +So the intense <i>pure</i> love-relation between parent and child +inevitably arouses the lower centers in the child, the centers of sex. +Now the deeper sensual centers, once aroused, should find response +from the sensual body of some other, some friend or lover. The +response is impossible between parent and child. Myself, I believe +that biologically there<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> is radical sex-aversion between parent and +child, at the deeper sensual centers. The sensual circuit <i>cannot</i> +adjust itself spontaneously between the two.</p> + +<p>So what have you? Child and parent intensely linked in adult +love-sympathy and love-will, on the upper plane, and in the child, the +deeper sensual centers aroused, but finding no correspondent, no +objective, no polarized connection with another person. There they +are, the powerful centers of sex, acting spasmodically, without +balance. They must be polarized somehow. So they are polarized to the +active upper centers within the child, and you get an introvert.</p> + +<p>This is how introversion begins. The lower sexual centers are aroused. +They find no sympathy, no connection, no response from outside, no +expression. They are dynamically polarized by the upper centers within +the individual. That is, the whole of the sexual or deeper sensual +flow goes on upwards in the individual, to his own upper, from his own +lower centers. The upper centers hold the lower in positive polarity. +The flow goes on upwards. There <i>must</i> be some reaction. And so you +get, first and foremost, self-consciousness, an intense consciousness +in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> upper self of the lower self. This is the first disaster. Then +you get the upper body exploiting the lower body. You get the hands +exploiting the sensual body, in feeling, fingering, and in +masturbation. You get a pornographic longing with regard to the self. +You get the obscene post cards which most youths possess. You get the +absolute lust for dirty stories, which so many men have. And you get +various mild sex perversions, such as masturbation, and so on.</p> + +<p>What does all this mean? It means that the activity of the lower +psyche and lower body is polarized by the upper body. Eyes and ears +want to gather sexual activity and knowledge. The mind becomes full of +sex: and always, in an introvert, of his <i>own</i> sex. If we examine the +apparent extroverts, like the flaunting Italian, we shall see the same +thing. It is his own sex which obsesses him.</p> + +<p>And to-day what have we but this? Almost inevitably we find in a child +now an intense, precocious, secret sexual preoccupation. The upper +self is rabidly engaged in exploiting the lower self. A child and its +own roused, inflamed sex, its own shame and masturbation, its own +cruel, secret sexual excitement and sex <i>curiosity</i>, this is the +greatest tragedy of our day. The child<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> does not so much want to <i>act</i> +as to <i>know</i>. The thought of actual sex connection is usually +repulsive. There is an aversion from the normal coition act. But the +craving to feel, to see, to taste, to <i>know</i>, mentally in the head, +this is insatiable. Anything, so that the sensation and experience +shall come through the <i>upper</i> channels. This is the secret of our +introversion and our perversion to-day. Anything rather than +spontaneous direct action from the sensual self. Anything rather than +the merely normal passion. Introduce any trick, any idea, any mental +element you can into sex, but make it an affair of the upper +consciousness, the mind and eyes and mouth and fingers. This is our +vice, our dirt, our disease.</p> + +<p>And the adult, and the ideal are to blame. But the tragedy of our +children, in their inflamed, solitary sexual excitement, distresses us +beyond any blame.</p> + +<p>It is time to drop the word love, and more than time to drop the ideal +of love. Every frenzied individual is told to find fulfillment in +love. So he tries. Whereas, there is no fulfillment in love. Half of +our fulfillment comes <i>through</i> love, through strong, sensual love. +But the central fulfillment, for a man, is that he possess his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> own +soul in strength within him, deep and alone. The deep, rich aloneness, +reached and perfected through love. And the passing beyond any further +<i>quest</i> of love.</p> + +<p>This central fullness of self-possession is our goal, if goal there be +any. But there are two great <i>ways</i> of fulfillment. The first, the way +of fulfillment through complete love, complete, passionate, deep love. +And the second, the greater, the fulfillment through the +accomplishment of religious purpose, the soul's earnest purpose. We +work the love way falsely, from the upper self, and work it to death. +The second way, of active unison in strong purpose, and in faith, this +we only sneer at.</p> + +<p>But to return to the child and the parent. The coming to the +fulfillment of single aloneness, through love, is made impossible for +us by the ideal, the monomania of more love. At the very <i>âge +dangereuse</i>, when a woman should be accomplishing her own fulfillment +into maturity and rich quiescence, she turns rabidly to seek a new +lover. At the very crucial time when she should be coming to a state +of pure equilibrium and rest with her husband, she turns rabidly +against rest or peace or equilibrium or husband in any shape or form, +and demands more love, more<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> love, a new sort of lover, one who will +"understand" her. And as often as not she turns to her son.</p> + +<p>It is true, a woman reaches her goal of fulfillment through feeling. +But through being "understood" she reaches nowhere, unless the lover +understands what a vice it is for a woman to get herself and her sex +into her head. A woman reaches her fulfillment through love, deep +sensual love, and exquisite sensitive communion. But once she reaches +the point of fulfillment, she should not break off to ask for more +excitements. She should take the beauty of maturity and peace and +quiet faithfulness upon her.</p> + +<p>This she won't do, however, unless the man, her husband, goes on +beyond her. When a man approaches the beginning of maturity and the +fulfillment of his individual self, about the age of thirty-five, then +is not his time to come to rest. On the contrary. Deeply fulfilled +through marriage, and at one with his own soul, he must now undertake +the responsibility for the next step into the future. He must now give +himself perfectly to some further purpose, some passionate purposive +activity. Till a man makes the great resolution of aloneness and +singleness of being, till he takes upon himself the silence<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> and +central appeasedness of maturity; and <i>then, after this</i>, assumes a +sacred responsibility for the next purposive step into the future, +there is no rest. The great resolution of aloneness and appeasedness, +and the further deep assumption of responsibility in purpose—this is +necessary to every parent, every father, every husband, at a certain +point. If the resolution is never made, the responsibility never +embraced, then the love-craving will run on into frenzy, and lay waste +to the family. In the woman particularly the love-craving will run on +to frenzy and disaster.</p> + +<p>Seeking, seeking the fulfillment in the deep passional self; diseased +with self-consciousness and sex in the head, foiled by the very loving +weakness of the husband who has not the courage to withdraw into his +own stillness and singleness, and put the wife under the spell of his +fulfilled decision; the unhappy woman beats about for her insatiable +satisfaction, seeking whom she may devour. And usually, she turns to +her child. Here she provokes what she wants. Here, in her own son who +belongs to her, she seems to find the last perfect response for which +she is craving. He is a medium to her, she provokes from him her own +answer. So she throws herself into a last great love for her son, a +final<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span> and fatal devotion, that which would have been the richness and +strength of her husband and is poison to her boy. The husband, +irresolute, never accepting his own higher responsibility, bows and +accepts. And the fatal round of introversion and "complex" starts once +more. If man will never accept his own ultimate being, his final +aloneness, and his last responsibility for life, then he must expect +woman to dash from disaster to disaster, rootless and uncontrolled.</p> + +<p>"<i>On revient toujours à son premier amour.</i>" It sounds like a cynicism +to-day. As if we really meant: "<i>On ne revient jamais à son premier +amour.</i>" But as a matter of fact, a man never leaves his first love, +once the love is established. He may leave his first attempt at love. +Once a man establishes a full dynamic communication at the deeper and +the higher centers, with a woman, this can never be broken. But sex in +the head breaks down, and half circuits break down. Once the full +circuit is established, however, this can never break down.</p> + +<p>Nowadays, alas, we start off self-conscious, with sex in the head. We +find a woman who is the same. We marry because we are "pals." The sex +is a rather nasty fiasco. We keep up a pretense of "pals"—and nice +love. Sex spins<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> wilder in the head than ever. There is either a +family of children whom the dissatisfied parents can devote themselves +to, thereby perverting the miserable little creatures: or else there +is a divorce. And at the great dynamic centers nothing has happened at +all. Blank nothing. There has been no vital interchange at all in the +whole of this beautiful marriage affair.</p> + +<p>Establish between yourself and another individual a dynamic connection +at only <i>two</i> of the four further poles, and you will have the devil +of a job to break the connection. Especially if it be the first +connection you have made. Especially if the other individual be the +first in the field.</p> + +<p>This is the case of the parents. Parents are first in the field of the +child's further consciousness. They are criminal trespassers in that +field. But that makes no matter. They are first in the field. They +establish a dynamic connection between the two upper centers, the +centers of the throat, the centers of the higher dynamic sympathy and +cognition. They establish this circuit. And break it if you can. Very +often not even death can break it.</p> + +<p>And as we see, the establishment of the upper love-and-cognition +circuit inevitably provokes the lower sex-sensual centers into action, +even<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> though there be no correspondence on the sensual plane between +the two individuals concerned. Then see what happens. If you want to +see the real desirable wife-spirit, look at a mother with her boy of +eighteen. How she serves him, how she stimulates him, how her true +female self is his, is wife-submissive to him as never, never it could +be to a husband. This is the quiescent, flowering love of a mature +woman. It is the very flower of a woman's love: sexually asking +nothing, asking nothing of the beloved, save that he shall be himself, +and that for his living he shall accept the gift of her love. This is +the perfect flower of married love, which a husband should put in his +cap as he goes forward into the future in his supreme activity. For +the husband, it is a great pledge, and a blossom. For the son also it +seems wonderful. The woman now feels for the first time as a true wife +might feel. And her feeling is towards her son.</p> + +<p>Or, instead of mother and son, read father and daughter.</p> + +<p>And then what? The son gets on swimmingly for a time, till he is faced +with the actual fact of sex necessity. He gleefully inherits his +adolescence and the world at large, without an obstacle in his way, +mother-supported, mother-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span>loved. Everything comes to him in glamour, +he feels he sees wondrous much, understands a whole heaven, +mother-stimulated. Think of the power which a mature woman thus +infuses into her boy. He flares up like a flame in oxygen. No wonder +they say geniuses mostly have great mothers. They mostly have sad +fates.</p> + +<p>And then?—and then, with this glamorous youth? What is he actually to +do with his sensual, sexual self? Bury it? Or make an effort with a +stranger? For he is taught, even by his mother, that his manhood must +not forego sex. Yet he is linked up in ideal love already, the best he +will ever know.</p> + +<p>No woman will give to a stranger that which she gives to her son, her +father or her brother: that beautiful and glamorous submission which +is truly the wife-submission. To a stranger, a husband, a woman +insists on being queen, goddess, mistress, the positive, the adored, +the first and foremost and the one and only. This she will not ask +from her near blood-kin. Of her blood-kin, there is always one she +will love devotedly.</p> + +<p>And so, the charming young girl who adores her father, or one of her +brothers, is sought in marriage by the attractive young man who loves<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span> +his mother devotedly. And a pretty business the marriage is. We can't +think of it. Of course they may be good pals. It's the only thing +left.</p> + +<p>And there we are. The game is spoilt before it is begun. Within the +circle of the family, owing to our creed of insatiable love, intense +adult sympathies are provoked in quite young children. In Italy, the +Italian stimulates adult sex-consciousness and sex-sympathy in his +child, almost deliberately. But with us, it is usually spiritual +sympathy and spiritual criticism. The adult experiences are provoked, +the adult devotional sympathies are linked up, prematurely, as far as +the child is concerned. We have the heart-wringing spectacle of +intense parent-child love, a love intense as the love of man and +woman, but not sexual; or else the great brother-sister devotion. And +thus, the great love-experience which should lie in the future is +forestalled. Within the family, the love-bond forms quickly, without +the shocks and ruptures inevitable between strangers. And so, it is +easiest, intensest—and seems the best. It seems the highest. You will +not easily get a man to believe that his carnal love for the woman he +has made his wife is as high a love as that he felt for his mother or +sister.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span></p> + +<p>The cream is licked off from life before the boy or the girl is +twenty. Afterwards—repetition, disillusion, and barrenness.</p> + +<p>And the cause?—always the same. That parents will not make the great +resolution to come to rest within themselves, to possess their own +souls in quiet and fullness. The man has not the courage to withdraw +at last into his own soul's stillness and aloneness, and <i>then</i>, +passionately and faithfully, to strive for the living future. The +woman has not the courage to give up her hopeless insistence on love +and her endless demand for love, demand of being loved. She has not +the greatness of soul to relinquish her own self-assertion, and +believe in the man who believes in himself and in his own soul's +efforts:—if there <i>are</i> any such men nowadays, which is very +doubtful.</p> + +<p>Alas, alas, the future! Your son, who has tasted the real beauty of +wife-response in his mother or sister. Your daughter, who adores her +brother, and who marries some woman's son. They are so charming to +look at, such a lovely couple. And at first it is all such a good +game, such good sport. Then each one begins to fret for the beauty of +the lost, non-sexual, partial relationship. The sexual part of +marriage has<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> proved so—so empty. While that other loveliest +thing—the poignant touch of devotion felt for mother or father or +brother—why, this is missing altogether. The best is missing. The +rest isn't worth much. Ah well, such is life. Settle down to it, and +bring up the children carefully to more of the same.—The +future!—You've had all your good days by the time you're twenty.</p> + +<p>And, I ask you, what good will psychoanalysis do you in this state of +affairs? Introduce an extra sex-motive to excite you for a bit and +make you feel how thrillingly immoral things really are. And then—it +all goes flat again. Father complex, mother complex, incest dreams: +pah, when we've had the little excitement out of them we shall forget +them as we have forgotten so many other catch-words. And we shall be +just where we were before: unless we are worse, with <i>more</i> sex in the +head, and more introversion, only more brazen.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<h3>THE VICIOUS CIRCLE</h3> + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="54" height="50" /></div> +<p>ere is a very vicious circle. And how to get out of it? In the first +place, we have to break the love-ideal, once and for all. Love, as we +see, is not the only dynamic. Taking love in its greatest sense, and +making it embrace every form of sympathy, every flow from the great +sympathetic centers of the human body, still it is not the whole of +the dynamic flow, it is only the one-half. There is always the other +voluntary flow to reckon with, the intense motion of independence and +singleness of self, the pride of isolation, and the profound +fulfillment through power.</p> + +<p>The very first thing of all to be recognized is the danger of +idealism. It is the one besetting sin of the human race. It means the +fall into automatism, mechanism, and nullity.</p> + +<p>We know that life issues spontaneously at the great nodes of the +psyche, the great nerve-centers. At first these are four only: then, +after<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> puberty, they become eight: later there may still be an +extension of the dynamic consciousness, a further polarization. But +eight is enough at the moment.</p> + +<p>First at four, and then at eight dynamic centers of the human body, +the human nervous system, life starts spontaneously into being. The +soul bursts day by day into fresh impulses, fresh desire, fresh +purpose, at these our polar centers. And from these dynamic generative +centers issue the vital currents which put us into connection with our +object. We have really no will and no choice, in the first place. It +is our soul which acts within us, day by day unfolding us according to +our own nature.</p> + +<p>From the objective circuits and from the subjective circuits which +establish and fulfill themselves at the first four centers of +consciousness we derive our first being, our child-being, and also our +first mind, our child-mind. By the objective circuits we mean those +circuits which are established between the self and some external +object: mother, father, sister, cat, dog, bird, or even tree or plant, +or even further still, some particular place, some particular +inanimate object, a knife or a chair or a cap or a doll or a wooden +horse. For we must insist that every<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span> object which really enters +effectively into our lives does so by direct connection. If I love my +mother, it is because there is established between me and her a +direct, powerful circuit of vital magnetism, call it what you will, +but a direct flow of dynamic <i>vital</i> interchange and intercourse. I +will not call this vital flow a <i>force</i>, because it depends on the +incomprehensible initiative and control of the individual soul or +self. Force is that which is directed only from some universal will or +law. Life is <i>always</i> individual, and therefore never controlled by +one law, one God. And therefore, since the living really sway the +universe, even if unknowingly; therefore there is no one universal +law, even for the physical forces. Because we insist that even the sun +depends, for its heartbeat, its respiration, its pivotal motion, on +the beating hearts of men and beast, on the dynamic of the +soul-impulse in individual creatures. It is from the aggregate +heartbeat of living individuals, of we know not how many or what sort +of worlds, that the sun rests stable.</p> + +<p>Which may be dismissed as metaphysics, although it is quite as valid +or even as demonstrable as Newton's Law of Gravitation, which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span> law +still remains a law, even if not quite so absolute as heretofore.</p> + +<p>But this is a digression. The argument is, that between an individual +and any external object with which he has an affective connection, +there exists a definite vital flow, as definite and concrete as the +electric current whose polarized circuit sets our tram-cars running +and our lamps shining, or our Marconi wires vibrating. Whether this +object be human, or animal, or plant, or quite inanimate, there is +still a circuit. My dog, my canary has a polarized connection with me. +Nay, the very cells in the ash-tree I loved as a child had a dynamic +vibratory connection with the nuclei in my own centers of primary +consciousness. And further still, the boots I have worn are so +saturated with my own magnetism, my own vital activity, that if anyone +else wear them I feel it is a trespass, almost as if another man used +my hand to knock away a fly. I doubt very much if a blood-hound, when +it takes a scent, <i>smells</i>, in our sense of the word. It receives at +the infinitely sensitive telegraphic center of the dog's nostrils the +vital vibration which remains in the inanimate object from the +individual with whom the object was associated. I should like to know +if a dog would trace a pair<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> of quite new shoes which had merely been +dragged at the end of a string. That is, does he follow the smell of +the leather itself, or the vibration track of the individual whose +vitality is communicated to the leather?</p> + +<p>So, there is a definite vibratory rapport between a man and his +surroundings, once he definitely gets into contact with these +surroundings. Any particular locality, any house which has been lived +in has a vibration, a transferred vitality of its own. This is either +sympathetic or antipathetic to the succeeding individual in varying +degree. But certain it is that the inhabitants who live at the foot of +Etna will always have a certain pitch of life-vibration, antagonistic +to the pitch of vibration even of a Palermitan, in some measure. And +old houses are saturated with human presence, at last to a degree of +indecency, unbearable. And tradition, in its most elemental sense, +means the continuing of the same peculiar pitch of vital vibration.</p> + +<p>Such is the objective dynamic flow between the psychic poles of the +individual and the substance of the external object, animate or +inanimate. The subjective dynamic flow is established between the four +primary poles within the individual. Every dynamic connection be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span>gins +from one or the other of the sympathetic centers: is, or should be, +almost immediately polarized from the corresponding voluntary center. +Then a complete flow is set up, in one plane. But this always rouses +the activity on the other, corresponding plane, more or less intense. +There is a whole field of consciousness established, with positive +polarity of the first plane, negative polarity of the second. Which +being so, a whole fourfold field of dynamic consciousness now working +within the individual, direct cognition takes place. The mind begins +to know, and to strive to know.</p> + +<p>The business of the mind is first and foremost the pure joy of knowing +and comprehending the pure joy of consciousness. The second business +is to act as medium, as interpreter, as agent between the individual +and his object. The mind should <i>not</i> act as a director or controller +of the spontaneous centers. These the soul alone must control: the +soul being that forever unknowable reality which causes us to rise +into being. There is continual conflict between the soul, which is for +ever sending forth incalculable impulses, and the psyche, which is +conservative, and wishes to persist in its old motions, and the mind, +which wishes to have "freedom," that is spasmodic,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span> idea-driven +control. Mind, and conservative psyche, and the incalculable soul, +these three are a trinity of powers in every human being. But there is +something even beyond these. It is the individual in his pure +singleness, in his totality of consciousness, in his oneness of being: +the Holy Ghost which is with us after our Pentecost, and which we may +not deny. When I say to myself: "I am wrong," knowing with sudden +insight that I <i>am</i> wrong, then this is the whole self speaking, the +Holy Ghost. It is no piece of mental inference. It is not just the +soul sending forth a flash. It is my whole being speaking in one +voice, soul and mind and psyche transfigured into oneness. This voice +of my being I may <i>never</i> deny. When at last, in all my storms, my +whole self speaks, then there is a pause. The soul collects itself +into pure silence and isolation—perhaps after much pain. The mind +suspends its knowledge, and waits. The psyche becomes strangely still. +And then, after the pause, there is fresh beginning, a new life +adjustment. Conscience is the being's consciousness, when the +individual is conscious <i>in toto</i>, when he knows in full. It is +something which includes and which far surpasses mental consciousness. +Every man must live as far as he can by his own soul's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span> conscience. +But not according to any ideal. To submit the conscience to a creed, +or an idea, or a tradition, or even an impulse, is our ruin.</p> + +<p>To make the mind the absolute ruler is as good as making a Cook's +tourist-interpreter a king and a god, because he can speak several +languages, and make an Arab understand that an Englishman wants fish +for supper. And to make an ideal a ruling principle is about as stupid +as if a bunch of travelers should never cease giving each other and +their dragoman sixpence, because the dragoman's main idea of virtue is +the virtue of sixpence-giving. In the same way, we <i>know</i> we cannot +live purely by impulse. Neither can we live solely by tradition. We +must live by all three, ideal, impulse, and tradition, each in its +hour. But the real guide is the pure conscience, the voice of the self +in its wholeness, the Holy Ghost.</p> + +<p>We have fallen now into the mistake of idealism. Man always falls into +one of the three mistakes. In China, it is tradition. And in the South +Seas, it seems to have been impulse. Ours is idealism. Each of the +three modes is a true life-mode. But any one, alone or dominant, +brings us to destruction. We must depend on the wholeness of our +being, ultimately only on that,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span> which is our Holy Ghost within us. +Whereas, in an ideal of love and benevolence, we have tried to +automatize ourselves into little love-engines always stoked with the +sorrows or beauties of other people, so that we can get up steam of +charity or righteous wrath. A great trick is to pour on the fire the +oil of our indignation at somebody else's wickedness, and then, when +we've got up steam like hell, back the engine and run bish! smash! +against the belly of the offender. Because he said he didn't want to +love any more, we hate him for evermore, and try to run over him, +every bit of him, with our love-tanks. And all the time we yell at +him: "Will you deny love, you villain? Will you?" And by the time he +faintly squeaks, "I want to be loved! I want to be loved!" we have got +so used to running over him with our love-tanks that we don't feel in +a hurry to leave off.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"<i>Sois mon frère, ou je te tue.</i>"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"<i>Sois mon frère, ou je me tue.</i>"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>There are the two parrot-threats of love, on which our loving +centuries have run as on a pair of railway-lines. Excuse me if I want +to get out of the train. Excuse me if I can't get up any love-steam +any more. My boilers are burst.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span></p> + +<p>We have made a mistake, laying down love like the permanent way of a +great emotional transport system. There we are, however, running on +wheels on the lines of our love. And of course we have only two +directions, forwards and backwards. "Onward, Christian soldiers, +towards the great terminus where bottles of sterilized milk for the +babies are delivered at the bedroom windows by noiseless aeroplanes +each morn, where the science of dentistry is so perfect that teeth are +planted in a man's mouth without his knowing it, where twilight sleep +is so delicious that every woman longs for her next confinement, and +where nobody ever has to do anything except turn a handle now and then +in a spirit of universal love—" That is the forward direction of the +English-speaking race. The Germans unwisely backed their engine. "We +have a city of light. But instead of lying ahead it lies direct behind +us. So reverse engines. Reverse engines, and away, away to our city, +where the sterilized milk is delivered by noiseless aeroplanes, <i>at +the very precise minute when our great doctors of the Fatherland have +diagnosed that it is good for you</i>: where the teeth are not only so +painlessly planted that they grow like living rock, but where their +composition is such<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> that the friction of eating stimulates the cells +of the jaw-bone and develops the <i>superman strength of will which +makes us gods</i>: and where not only is twilight sleep serene, but into +the sleeper are inculcated the most useful and instructive dreams, +calculated to perfect the character of the young citizen at this +crucial period, and to enlighten permanently the mind of the happy +mother, with regard to her new duties towards her child and towards +our great Fatherland—"</p> + +<p>Here you see we are, on the railway, with New Jerusalem ahead, and New +Jerusalem away behind us. But of course it was very wrong of the +Germans to reverse their engines, and cause one long collision all +along the line. Why should we go <i>their</i> way to the New Jerusalem, +when of course they might so easily have kept on going our way. And +now there's wreckage all along the line! But clear the way is our +motto—or make the Germans clear it. Because get on we will.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile we sit rather in the cold, waiting for the train to get a +start. People keep on signaling with green lights and red lights. And +it's all very bewildering.</p> + +<p>As for me, I'm off. I'm damned if I'll be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span> shunted along any more. And +I'm thrice damned if I'll go another yard towards that sterilized New +Jerusalem, either forwards or backwards. New Jerusalem may rot, if it +waits for me. I'm not going.</p> + +<p>So good-by! There we leave humanity, encamped in an appalling mess +beside the railway-smash of love, sitting down, however, and having +not a bad time, some of 'em, feeding themselves fat on the plunder: +others, further down the line, with mouths green from eating grass. +But all grossly, stupidly, automatically gabbling about getting the +love-service running again, the trains booked for the New Jerusalem +well on the way once more. And occasionally a good engine gives a +screech of love, and something seems to be about to happen. And +sometimes there is enough steam to set the indignation-whistles +whistling. But never any more will there be enough love-steam to get +the system properly running. It is done.</p> + +<p>Good-by, then! You may have laid your line from one end to the other +of the infinite. But still there's plenty of hinterland. I'll go. +Good-by. Ach, it will be so nice to be alone: not to hear you, not to +see you, not to smell you, hu<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span>manity. I wish you no ill, but wisdom. +Good-by!</p> + +<p>To be alone with one's own soul. Not to be alone without my own soul, +mind you. But to be alone with one's own soul! This, and the joy of +it, is the real goal of love. My own soul, and myself. Not my ego, my +conceit of myself. But my very soul. To be at one in my own self. Not +to be questing any more. Not to be yearning, seeking, hoping, +desiring, aspiring. But to pause, and be alone.</p> + +<p>And to have one's own "gentle spouse" by one's side, of course, to dig +one in the ribs occasionally. Because really, being alone in peace +means being two people together. Two people who can be silent +together, and not conscious of one another outwardly. Me in my +silence, she in hers, and the balance, the equilibrium, the pure +circuit between us. With occasional lapses of course: digs in the ribs +if one gets too vague or self-sufficient.</p> + +<p>They say it is better to travel than to arrive. It's not been my +experience, at least. The journey of love has been rather a +lacerating, if well-worth-it, journey. But to come at last to a nice +place under the trees, with your "amiable spouse" who has at last +learned to hold her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> tongue and not to bother about rights and wrongs: +her own particularly. And then to pitch a camp, and cook your rabbit, +and eat him: and to possess your own soul in silence, and to feel all +the clamor lapse. That is the best I know.</p> + +<p>I think it is terrible to be young. The ecstasies and agonies of love, +the agonies and ecstasies of fear and doubt and drop-by-drop +fulfillment, realization. The awful process of human relationships, +love and marital relationships especially. Because we all make a very, +very bad start to-day, with our idea of love in our head, and our sex +in our head as well. All the fight till one is bled of one's +self-consciousness and sex-in-the-head. All the bitterness of the +conflict with this devil of an amiable spouse, who has got herself so +stuck in her own head. It is terrible to be young.—But one fights +one's way through it, till one is cleaned: the self-consciousness and +sex-idea burned out of one, cauterized out bit by bit, and the self +whole again, and at last free.</p> + +<p>The best thing I have known is the stillness of accomplished marriage, +when one possesses one's own soul in silence, side by side with the +amiable spouse, and has left off craving and rav<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span>ing and being only +half one's self. But I must say, I know a great deal more about the +craving and raving and sore ribs, than about the accomplishment. And I +must confess that I feel this self-same "accomplishment" of the +fulfilled being is only a preparation for new responsibilities ahead, +new unison in effort and conflict, the effort to make, with other men, +a little new way into the future, and to break through the hedge of +the many.</p> + +<p>But—to your tents, my Israel. And to that precious baby you've left +slumbering there. What I meant to say was, in each phase of life you +have a great circuit of human relationship to establish and fulfill. +In childhood, it is the circuit of family love, established at the +first four consciousness centers, and gradually fulfilling itself, +completing itself. At adolescence, the first circuit of family love +should be completed, dynamically finished. And then, it falls into +quiescence. After puberty, family love should fall quiescent in a +child. The love never breaks. It continues static and basic, the basis +of the emotional psyche, the foundation of the self. It is like the +moon when the moon at last subsides into her eternal orbit, round the +earth. She travels in her orbit so inevitably that she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span> forgets, and +becomes unaware. She only knits her brows over the earth's greater +aberrations in space.</p> + +<p>The circuit of parental love, once fulfilled, is not done away with, +but only established into silence. The child is then free to establish +the new connections, in which he surpasses his parents. And let us +repeat, parents should never try to establish adult relations, of +sympathy or interest or anything else, between themselves and their +children. The attempt to do so only deranges the deep primary circuit +which is the dynamic basis of our living. It is a clambering upwards +only by means of a broken foundation. Parents should remain parents, +children children, for ever, and the great gulf preserved between the +two. Honor thy father and thy mother should always be a leading +commandment. But this can only take place when father and mother keep +their true parental distances, dignity, reserve, and limitation. As +soon as father and mother try to become the <i>friends</i> and <i>companions</i> +of their children, they break the root of life, they rupture the +deepest dynamic circuit of living, they derange the whole flow of life +for themselves and their children.</p> + +<p>For let us reiterate and reiterate: you cannot<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> mingle and confuse the +various modes of dynamic love. If you try, you produce horrors. You +cannot plant the heart below the diaphragm or put an ocular eye in the +navel. No more can you transfer parent love into friend love or adult +love. Parent love is established at the great primary centers, where +man is father and child, playmate and brother, but where he <i>cannot</i> +be comrade or lover. Comrade and lover, this is the dynamic activity +of the further centers, the second four centers. And these second four +centers must be active in the parent, their intense circuit +established even if not fulfilled, long before the child is born. The +circuit of friendship, of personal companionship, of sexual love must +needs be established before the child is begotten, or at least before +it attains to adolescence. These circuits of the extended field are +already fully established in the parent before the centers of +correspondence in the child are even formed. When therefore the four +great centers of the extended consciousness arouses in a child, at +adolescence, they must needs seek a strange complement, a foreign +conjunction.</p> + +<p>Not only is this the case, but the actual dynamic impulse of the new +life which rouses at puberty is <i>alien</i> to the original dynamic flow.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span> +The new wave-length by no means corresponds. The new vibration by no +means harmonizes. Force the two together, and you cause a terrible +frictional excitement and jarring. It is this instinctive recognition +of the different dynamic vibrations from different centers, in +different modes, and in different directions of positive and negative, +which lies at the base of savage taboo. After puberty, members of one +family should be taboo to one another. There should be the most +definite limits to the degree of contact. And mothers-in-law should be +taboo to their daughters' husbands, and fathers-in-law to their sons' +wives. We must again begin to learn the great laws of the first +dynamic life-circuits. These laws we now make havoc of, and +consequently we make havoc of our own soul, psyche, mind and health.</p> + +<p>This book is written primarily concerning the child's consciousness. +It is not intended to enter the field of the post-puberty +consciousness. But yet, the dynamic relation of the child is +established so directly with the physical and psychical soul of the +parent, that to get any inkling of dynamic child-consciousness we must +understand something of parent-consciousness.</p> + +<p>We assert that the parent-child love-mode ex<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span>cludes the possibility of +the man-and-woman, or friend-and-friend love mode. We assert that the +polarity of the first four poles is inconsistent with the polarity of +the second four poles. Nay, between the two great fields is a certain +dynamic opposition, resistance, even antipathy. So that in the natural +course of life there is no possibility of confusing parent love and +adult love.</p> + +<p>But we are mental creatures, and with the explosive and mechanistic +aid of ideas we can pervert the whole psyche. Only, however, in a +destructive degree, not in a positive or constructive.</p> + +<p>Let us return then. In the ordinary course of development, by the time +that the child is born and grown to puberty the whole dynamic soul of +the mother is engaged: first, with the children, and second, on the +further, higher plane, with the husband, and with her own friends. So +that when the child reaches adolescence it must inevitably cast abroad +for connection.</p> + +<p>But now let us remember the actual state of affairs to-day, when the +poles are reversed between the sexes. The woman is now the responsible +party, the law-giver, the culture-bearer. She is the conscious guide +and director of the man. She bears his soul between her two hands. And +her sex is just a function or an instrument<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span> of power. This being so, +the man is really the servant and the fount of emotion, love and +otherwise.</p> + +<p>Which is all very well, while the fun lasts. But like all perverted +processes, it is exhaustive, and like the fun wears out. Leaving an +exhaustion, and an irritation. Each looks on the other as a perverter +of life. Almost invariably a married woman, as she passes the age of +thirty, conceives a dislike, or a contempt of her husband, or a pity +which is too near contempt. Particularly if he be a good husband, a +true modern. And he, for his part, though just as jarred inside +himself, resents only the fact that he is not loved as he ought to be.</p> + +<p>Then starts a new game. The woman, even the most virtuous, looks +abroad for new sympathy. She will have a new man-friend, if nothing +more. But as a rule she has got something more. She has got her +children.</p> + +<p>A relation between mother and child to-day is practically <i>never</i> +parental. It is personal—which means, it is critical and deliberate, +and adult in provocation. The mother, in her new rôle of idealist and +life-manager never, practically for one single moment, gives her child +the unthinking response from the deep dynamic<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> centers. No, she gives +it what is good for it. She shoves milk in its mouth as the clock +strikes, she shoves it to sleep when the milk is swallowed, and she +shoves it ideally through baths and massage, promenades and practice, +till the little organism develops like a mushroom to stand on its own +feet. Then she continues her ideal shoving of it through all the +stages of an ideal up-bringing, she loves it as a chemist loves his +test-tubes in which he analyzes his salts. The poor little object is +his mother's ideal. But of her head she dictates his providential +days, and by the force of her deliberate mentally-directed love-will +she pushes him up into boyhood. The poor little devil never knows one +moment when he is not encompassed by the beautiful, benevolent, +idealistic, Botticelli-pure, and finally obscene love-will of the +mother. Never, never one mouthful does he drink of the milk of human +kindness: always the sterilized milk of human benevolence. There is no +mother's milk to-day, save in tigers' udders, and in the udders of +sea-whales. Our children drink a decoction of ideal love, at the +breast.</p> + +<p>Never for one moment, poor baby, the deep warm stream of love from the +mother's bowels to his bowels. Never for one moment the dark<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span> proud +recoil into rest, the soul's separation into deep, rich independence. +Never this lovely rich forgetfulness, as a cat trots off and utterly +forgets her kittens, utterly, richly forgets them, till suddenly, +click, the dynamic circuit reverses itself in her, and she remembers, +and rages round in a frenzy, shouting for her young.</p> + +<p>Our miserable infants never know this joy and richness and pang of real +maternal warmth. Our wonderful mothers never let us out of their minds +for one single moment. Not for a second do they allow us to escape from +their ideal benevolence. Not one single breath does a baby draw, free +from the imposition of the pure, unselfish, Botticelli-holy, detestable +<i>love-will</i> of the mother. Always the <i>will</i>, the will, the love-will, +the ideal will, directed from the ideal mind. Always this stone, this +scorpion of maternal nourishment. Always this infernal self-conscious +Madonna starving our living guts and bullying us to death with her love.</p> + +<p>We have made the idea supplant both impulse and tradition. We have no +spark of wholeness. And we live by an evil love-will. Alas, the great +spontaneous mode is abrogated. There is no lovely great flux of vital +sympathy, no rich rejoicing of pride into isolation and independence.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span> +There is no reverence for great traditions of parenthood. No, there is +substitute for everything—life-substitute—just as we have +butter-substitute, and meat-substitute, and sugar-substitute, and +leather-substitute, and silk-substitute, so we have life-substitute. +We have beastly benevolence, and foul good-will, and stinking charity, +and poisonous ideals.</p> + +<p>The poor modern brat, shoved horribly into life by an effort of will, +and shoved up towards manhood by every appliance that can be applied +to it, especially the appliance of the maternal will, it is really too +pathetic to contemplate. The only thing that prevents us wringing our +hands is the remembrance that the little devil will grow up and beget +other similar little devils of his own, to invent more aeroplanes and +hospitals and germ-killers and food-substitutes and poison gases. The +problem of the future is a question of the strongest poison-gas. Which +is certainly a very sure way out of our vicious circle.</p> + +<p>There is no way out of a vicious circle, of course, except breaking +the circle. And since the mother-child relationship is to-day the +viciousest of circles, what are we to do? Just wait for the results of +the poison-gas competition presumably.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span></p> + +<p>Oh, ideal humanity, how detestable and despicable you are! And how you +deserve your own poison-gases! How you deserve to perish in your own +stink.</p> + +<p>It is no use contemplating the development of the modern child, born +out of the mental-conscious love-will, born to be another unit of +self-conscious love-will: an ideal-born beastly little entity with a +devil's own will of its own, benevolent, of course, and a Satan's own +seraphic self-consciousness, like a beastly Botticelli brat.</p> + +<p>Once we really consider this modern process of life and the love-will, +we could throw the pen away, and spit, and say three cheers for the +inventors of poison-gas. Is there not an American who is supposed to +have invented a breath of heaven whereby, drop one pop-cornful in +Hampstead, one in Brixton, one in East Ham, and one in Islington, and +London is a Pompeii in five minutes! Or was the American only +bragging? Because anyhow, whom has he experimented on? I read it in +the newspaper, though. London a Pompeii in five minutes. Makes the +gods look silly!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<h3>LITANY OF EXHORTATIONS</h3> + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_i.jpg" alt="I" width="25" height="50" /></div> +<p> thought I'd better turn over a new leaf, and start a new chapter. +The intention of the last chapter was to find a way out of the vicious +circle. And it ended in poison-gas.</p> + +<p>Yes, dear reader, so it did. But you've not silenced me yet, for all +that.</p> + +<p>We're in a nasty mess. We're in a vicious circle. And we're making a +careful study of poison-gases. The secret of Greek fire was lost long +ago, when the world left off being wonderful and ideal. Now it is +wonderful and ideal again, much wonderfuller and <i>much</i> more ideal. So +we ought to do something rare in the way of poison-gas. London a +Pompeii in five minutes! How to outdo Vesuvius!—title of a new book +by American authors.</p> + +<p>There is only one single other thing to do. And it's more difficult +than poison-gas. It is to leave off loving. It is to leave off +benevolenting <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span>and having a good will. It is to cease utterly. Just +leave off. Oh, parents, see that your children get their dinners and +clean sheets, but don't love them. Don't love them one single grain, +and don't let anybody else love them. Give them their dinners and +leave them alone. You've already loved them to perdition. Now leave +them alone, to find their own way out.</p> + +<p>Wives, don't love your husbands any more: even if they cry for it, the +great babies! Sing: "I've had enough of that old sauce." And leave off +loving them or caring for them one single bit. Don't even hate them or +dislike them. Don't have any stew with them at all. Just boil the eggs +and fill the salt-cellars and be quite nice, and in your own soul, be +alone and be still. Be alone, and be still, preserving all the human +decencies, and abandoning the indecency of desires and benevolencies +and devotions, those beastly poison-gas apples of the Sodom vine of +the love-will.</p> + +<p>Wives, don't love your husbands nor your children nor anybody. Sit +still, and say Hush! And while you shake the duster out of the +drawing-room window, say to yourself—"In the sweetness of solitude." +And when your husband comes in and says he's afraid he's got a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span> cold +and is going to have double pneumonia, say quietly "surely not." And +if he wants the ammoniated quinine, give it him if he can't get it for +himself. But don't let him drive you out of your solitude, your +singleness within yourself. And if your little boy falls down the +steps and makes his mouth bleed, nurse and comfort him, but say to +yourself, even while you tremble with the shock: "Alone. Alone. Be +alone, my soul." And if the servant smashes three electric-light bulbs +in three minutes, say to her: "How very inconsiderate and careless of +you!" But say to yourself: "Don't hear it, my soul. Don't take fright +at the pop of a light-bulb."</p> + +<p>Husbands, don't love your wives any more. If they flirt with men +younger or older than yourselves, let your blood not stir. If you can +go away, go away. But if you must stay and see her, then say to her, +"I would rather you didn't flirt in my presence, Eleanora." Then, when +she goes red and loosens torrents of indignation, don't answer any +more. And when she floods into tears, say quietly in your own self, +"My soul is my own"; and go away, be alone as much as possible. And +when she works herself up, and says she must have love or she will +die, then say: "Not my love, however." And to all her threats, her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span> +tears, her entreaties, her reproaches, her cajolements, her +winsomenesses, answer nothing, but say to yourself: "Shall I be +implicated in this display of the love-will? Shall I be blasted by +this false lightning?" And though you tremble in every fiber, and feel +sick, vomit-sick with the scene, still contain yourself, and say, "My +soul is my own. It shall not be violated." And learn, learn, learn the +one and only lesson worth learning at last. Learn to walk in the +sweetness of the possession of your own soul. And whether your wife +weeps as she takes off her amber beads at night, or whether your +neighbor in the train sits in your coat bottoms, or whether your +superior in the office makes supercilious remarks, or your inferior is +familiar and impudent; or whether you read in the newspaper that Lloyd +George is performing another iniquity, or the Germans plotting another +plot, say to yourself: "My soul is my own. My soul is with myself, and +beyond implication." And wait, quietly, in possession of your own +soul, till you meet another man who has made the choice, and kept it. +Then you will know him by the look on his face: half a dangerous look, +a look of Cain, and half a look of gathered beauty.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span> Then you two will +make the nucleus of a new society—Ooray! Bis! Bis!!</p> + +<p>But if you should never meet such a man: and if your wife should +torture you every day with her love-will: and even if she should force +herself into a consumption, like Catherine Linton in "Wuthering +Heights," owing to her obstinate and determined love-will (which is +quite another matter than love): and if you see the world inventing +poison-gas and falling into its poisoned grave: never give in, but be +alone, and utterly alone with your own soul, in the stillness and +sweet possession of your own soul. And don't even be angry. And +<i>never</i> be sad. Why should you? It's not your affair.</p> + +<p>But if your wife should accomplish for herself the sweetness of her +own soul's possession, then gently, delicately let the new mode assert +itself, the new mode of relation between you, with something of +spontaneous paradise in it, the apple of knowledge at last digested. +But, my word, what belly-aches meanwhile. That apple is harder to +digest than a lead gun-cartridge.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<h3>COSMOLOGICAL</h3> + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_w.jpg" alt="W" width="65" height="50" /></div> +<p>ell, dear reader, Chapter XII was short, and I hope you found it +sweet.</p> + +<p>But remember, this is an essay on Child Consciousness, not a tract on +Salvation. It isn't my fault that I am led at moments into +exhortation.</p> + +<p>Well, then, what about it? One fact now seems very clear—at any rate +to me. We've got to pause. We haven't got to gird our loins with a new +frenzy and our larynxes with a new Glory Song. Not a bit of it. Before +you dash off to put salt on the tail of a new religion or of a new +Leader of Men, dear reader, sit down quietly and pull yourself +together. Say to yourself: "Come now, what is it all about?" And +you'll realize, dear reader, that you're all in a fluster, inwardly. +Then say to yourself: "Why am I in such a fluster?" And you'll see +you've no reason at all to be so: except that it's rather exciting to +be in a fluster, and it may seem rather stale eggs to be in no fluster +at all about anything.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span> And yet, dear little reader, once you consider +it quietly, it's <i>so</i> much nicer <i>not</i> to be in a fluster. It's so +much nicer not to feel one's deeper innards storming like the Bay of +Biscay. It is so much better to get up and say to the waters of one's +own troubled spirit: Peace, be still ...! And they will be still ... +perhaps.</p> + +<p>And then one realizes that all the wild storms of anxiety and frenzy +were only so much breaking of eggs. It isn't our business to live +anybody's life, or to die anybody's death, except our own. Nor to save +anybody's soul, nor to put anybody in the right; nor yet in the wrong, +which is more the point to-day. But to be still, and to ignore the +false fine frenzy of the seething world. To turn away, now, each one +into the stillness and solitude of his own soul. And there to remain +in the quiet with the Holy Ghost which is to each man his own true +soul.</p> + +<p>This is the way out of the vicious circle. Not to rush round on the +periphery, like a rabbit in a ring, trying to break through. But to +retreat to the very center, and there to be filled with a new strange +stability, polarized in unfathomable richness with the center of +centers. We are so silly, trying to invent devices and machines for +flying off from the surface of the earth. Instead<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> of realizing that +for us the deep satisfaction lies not in escaping, but in getting into +the perfect circuit of the earth's terrestrial magnetism. Not in +breaking away. What is the good of trying to break away from one's +own? What is the good of a tree desiring to fly like a bird in the +sky, when a bird is rooted in the earth as surely as a tree is? Nay, +the bird is only the topmost leaf of the tree, fluttering in the high +air, but attached as close to the tree as any other leaf. Mr. +Einstein's Theory of Relativity does not supersede the Newtonian Law +of Gravitation or of Inertia. It only says, "Beware! The Law of +Inertia is not the simple ideal proposition you would like to make of +it. It is a vast complexity. Gravitation is not one elemental uncouth +force. It is a strange, infinitely complex, subtle aggregate of +forces." And yet, however much it may waggle, a stone does fall to +earth if you drop it.</p> + +<p>We should like, vulgarly, to rejoice and say that the new Theory of +Relativity releases us from the old obligation of centrality. It does +no such thing. It only makes the old centrality much more strange, +subtle, complex, and vital. It only robs us of the nice old ideal +simplicity. Which ideal simplicity and logicalness has become such a +fish-bone stuck in our throats.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span></p> + +<p>The universe is once more in the mental melting-pot. And you can melt +it down as long as you like, and mutter all the jargon and +abracadabra, <i>aldeboronti fosco fornio</i> of science that mental +monkey-tricks can teach you, you won't get anything in the end but a +formula and a lie. The atom? Why, the moment you discover the atom it +will explode under your nose. The moment you discover the ether it +will evaporate. The moment you get down to the real basis of anything, +it will dissolve into a thousand problematic constituents. And the +more problems you solve, the more will spring up with their fingers at +their nose, making a fool of you.</p> + +<p>There is only one clue to the universe. And that is the individual +soul within the individual being. That outer universe of suns and +moons and atoms is a secondary affair. It is the death-result of +living individuals. There is a great polarity in life itself. Life +itself is dual. And the duality is life and death. And death is not +just shadow or mystery. It is the negative reality of life. It is what +we call Matter and Force, among other things.</p> + +<p>Life is individual, always was individual and always will be. Life +consists of living individuals, and always did so consist, in the +begin<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span>ning of everything. There never was any universe, any cosmos, of +which the first reality was anything but living, incorporate +individuals. I don't say the individuals were exactly like you and me. +And they were never wildly different.</p> + +<p>And therefore it is time for the idealist and the scientist—they are +one and the same, really—to stop his monkey-jargon about the atom and +the origin of life and the mechanical clue to the universe. There +isn't any such thing. I might as well say: "Then they took the cart, +and rubbed it all over with grease. Then they sprayed it with white +wine, and spun round the right wheel five hundred revolutions to the +minute and the left wheel, in the opposite direction, seven hundred +and seventy-seven revolutions to the minute. Then a burning torch was +applied to each axle. And lo, the footboard of the cart began to +swell, and suddenly as the cart groaned and writhed, the horse was +born, and lay panting between the shafts." The whole scientific theory +of the universe is not worth such a tale: that the cart conceived and +gave birth to the horse.</p> + +<p>I do not believe one-fifth of what science can tell me about the sun. +I do not believe for one second that the moon is a dead world +spelched<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span> off from our globe. I do not believe that the stars came +flying off from the sun like drops of water when you spin your wet +hanky. I have believed it for twenty years, because it seemed so +ideally plausible. Now I don't accept any ideal plausibilities at all. +I look at the moon and the stars, and I know I don't believe anything +that I am told about them. Except that I like their names, Aldebaran +and Cassiopeia, and so on.</p> + +<p>I have tried, and even brought myself to believe in a clue to the +outer universe. And in the process I have swallowed such a lot of +jargon that I would rather listen now to a negro witch-doctor than to +Science. There is nothing in the world that is true except empiric +discoveries which work in actual appliances. I know that the sun is +hot. But I won't be told that the sun is a ball of blazing gas which +spins round and fizzes. No, thank you.</p> + +<p>At length, for <i>my</i> part, I know that life, and life only is the clue +to the universe. And that the living individual is the clue to life. +And that it always was so, and always will be so.</p> + +<p>When the living individual dies, then is the realm of death +established. Then you get Matter and Elements and atoms and forces and +sun<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span> and moon and earth and stars and so forth. In short, the outer +universe, the Cosmos. The Cosmos is nothing but the aggregate of the +dead bodies and dead energies of bygone individuals. The dead bodies +decompose as we know into earth, air, and water, heat and radiant +energy and free electricity and innumerable other scientific facts. +The dead souls likewise decompose—or else they don't decompose. But +if they <i>do</i> decompose, then it is not into any elements of Matter and +physical energy. They decompose into some psychic reality, and into +some potential will. They reënter into the living psyche of living +individuals. The living soul partakes of the dead souls, as the living +breast partakes of the outer air, and the blood partakes of the sun. +The soul, the individuality, never resolves itself through death into +physical constituents. The dead soul remains always soul, and always +retains its individual quality. And it does not disappear, but +reënters into the soul of the living, of some living individual or +individuals. And there it continues its part in life, as a +death-witness and a life-agent. But it does not, ordinarily, have any +separate existence there, but is incorporate in the living individual +soul. But in some extraordinary cases, the dead<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> soul may really act +separately in a living individual.</p> + +<p>How this all is, and what are the laws of the relation between life +and death, the living and the dead, I don't know. But that this +relation exists, and exists in a manner as I describe it, for my own +part I know. And I am fully aware that once we direct our living +attention this way, instead of to the absurdity of the atom, then we +have a whole <i>living</i> universe of knowledge before us. The universe of +life and death, of which we, whose business it is to live and to die, +know nothing. Whilst concerning the universe of Force and Matter we +pile up theories and make staggering and disastrous discoveries of +machinery and poison-gas, all of which we were much better without.</p> + +<p>It is life we have to live by, not machines and ideals. And life means +nothing else, even, but the spontaneous living soul which is our +central reality. The spontaneous, living, individual soul, this is the +clue, and the only clue. All the rest is derived.</p> + +<p>How it is contrived that the individual soul in the living sways the +very sun in its centrality, I do not know. But it is so. It is the +peculiar dynamic polarity of the living soul in every weed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span> or bug or +beast, each one separately and individually polarized with the great +returning pole of the sun, that maintains the sun alive. For I take it +that the sun is the great sympathetic center of our inanimate +universe. I take it that the sun breathes in the effluence of all that +fades and dies. Across space fly the innumerable vibrations which are +the basis of all matter. They fly, breathed out from the dying and the +dead, from all that which is passing away, even in the living. These +vibrations, these elements pass away across space, and are breathed +back again. The sun itself is invisible as the soul. The sun itself is +the soul of the inanimate universe, the aggregate clue to the +substantial death, if we may call it so. The sun is the great active +pole of the sympathetic death-activity. To the sun fly the vibrations +or the molecules in the great sympathy-mode of death, and in the sun +they are renewed, they turn again as the great gift back again from +the sympathetic death-center towards life, towards the living. But it +is not even the dead which <i>really</i> sustain the sun. It is the dynamic +relation between the solar plexus of individuals and the sun's core, a +perfect circuit. The sun is materially composed of all the effluence +of the dead. But the <i>quick</i> of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span> sun is polarized with the living, +the sun's quick is polarized in dynamic relation with the quick of +life in all living things, that is, with the solar plexus in mankind. +A direct dynamic connection between my solar plexus and the sun.</p> + +<p>Likewise, as the sun is the great fiery, vivifying pole of the +inanimate universe, the moon is the other pole, cold and keen and +vivifying, corresponding in some way to a <i>voluntary</i> pole. We live +between the polarized circuit of sun and moon. And the moon is +polarized with the lumbar ganglion, primarily, in man. Sun and moon +are dynamically polarized to our actual tissue, they affect this +tissue all the time.</p> + +<p>The moon is, as it were, the pole of our particular terrestrial +<i>volition</i>, in the universe. What holds the earth swinging in space is +first, the great dynamic attraction to the sun, and then counterposing +assertion of independence, singleness, which is polarized in the moon. +The moon is the clue to our earth's individual identity, in the wide +universe.</p> + +<p>The moon is an immense magnetic center. It is quite wrong to say she +is a dead snowy world with craters and so on. I should say she is +composed of some very intense element, like phosphorus or radium, some +element or elements<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span> which have very powerful chemical and kinetic +activity, and magnetic activity, affecting us through space.</p> + +<p>It is not the sun which we see in heaven. It is the rushing thither +and the rushing thence of the vibrations expelled by death from the +body of life, and returned back again to the body of life. Possibly +even a dead soul makes its journey to the sun and back, before we +receive it again in our breast. Just as the breath we breathe out +flies to the sun and back, before we breathe it in again. And as the +water that evaporates rises right to the sun, and returns here. What +we see is the great golden rushing thither, from the death exhalation, +towards the sun, as a great cloud of bees flying to swarm upon the +invisible queen, circling round, and loosing again. This is what we +see of the sun. The center is invisible for ever.</p> + +<p>And of the moon the same. The moon has her back to us for ever. Not +her face, as we like to think. The moon also pulls the water, as the +sun does. But not in evaporation. The moon pulls by the magnetic force +we call gravitation. Gravitation not being quite such a Newtonian +simple apple as we are accustomed to find it, we are perhaps farther +off from understanding the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span> tides of the ocean than we were before the +fruit of the tree fell to Sir Isaac's head. It is certainly not simple +little-things tumble-towards-big-things gravitation. In the moon's +pull there is peculiar, quite special force exerted over those +water-born substances, phosphorus, salt, and lime. The dynamic energy +of salt water is something quite different from that of fresh water. +And it is this dynamic energy which the sea gives off, and which +connects it with the moon. And the moon is some strange coagulation of +substance such as salt, phosphorus, soda. It certainly isn't a snowy +cold world, like a world of our own gone cold. Nonsense. It is a globe +of dynamic substance like radium or phosphorus, coagulated upon a +certain vivid pole of energy, which pole of energy is directly +polarized with our earth, in opposition with the sun.</p> + +<p>The moon is born from the death of individuals. All things, in their +oneing, their unification into the pure, universal oneness, evaporate +and fly like an imitation breath towards the sun. Even the crumbling +rocks breathe themselves off in this rocky death, to the sun of +heaven, during the day.</p> + +<p>But at the same time, during the night they<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span> breathe themselves off to +the moon. If we come to think of it, light and dark are a question +both of the third body, the intervening body, what we will call, by +stretching a point, the individual. As we all know, apart from the +existence of molecules of individual matter, there is neither light +nor dark. A universe utterly without matter, we don't know whether it +is light or dark. Even the pure space between the sun and moon, the +blue space, we don't know whether, in itself, it is light or dark. We +can say it is light, we can say it is dark. But light and dark are +terms which apply only to ourselves, the third, the intermediate, the +substantial, the individual.</p> + +<p>If we come to think of it, light and dark only mean whether we have +our face or our back towards the sun. If we have our face to the sun, +then we establish the circuit of cosmic or universal or material or +infinite sympathy. These four adjectives, cosmic, universal, material, +and infinite are almost interchangeable, and apply, as we see, to that +realm of the non-individual existence which we call the realm of the +substantial death. It is the universe which has resulted from the +death of individuals. And to this universe alone belongs the quality +of in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span>finity: to the universe of death. Living individuals have no +infinity save in this relation to the total death-substance and +death-being, the summed-up cosmos.</p> + +<p>Light and dark, these great wonders, are relative to us alone. These +are two vast poles of the cosmic energy and of material existence. +These are the vast poles of cosmic sympathy, which we call the sun, +and the other white pole of cosmic volition, which we call the moon. +To the sun belong the great forces of heat and radiant energy, to the +moon belong the great forces of magnetism and electricity, +radium-energy, and so on. The sun is not, in any sense, a material +body. It is an invariable intense pole of cosmic energy, and what we +see are the particles of our terrestrial decomposition flying thither +and returning, as fine grains of iron would fly to an intense magnet, +or better, as the draught in a room veers towards the fire, attracted +infallibly, as a moth towards a candle. The moth is drawn to the +candle as the draught is drawn to the fire, in the absolute spell of +the material polarity of fire. And air escapes again, hot and +different, from the fire. So is the sun.</p> + +<p>Fire, we say, is combustion. It is marvelous how science proceeds like +witchcraft and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span> alchemy, by means of an abracadabra which has no +earthly sense. Pray, what is combustion? You can try and answer +scientifically, till you are black in the face. All you can say is +that it is <i>that which happens</i> when matter is raised to a certain +temperature—and so forth and so forth. You might as well say, a word +is that which happens when I open my mouth and squeeze my larynx and +make various tricks with my throat muscles. All these explanations are +so senseless. They describe the apparatus, and think they have +described the event.</p> + +<p>Fire may be accompanied by combustion, but combustion is not +necessarily accompanied by fire. All A is B, but all B is not A. And +therefore fire, no matter how you jiggle, is not identical with +combustion. Fire. FIRE. I insist on the absolute word. You may say +that fire is a sum of various phenomena. I say it isn't. You might as +well tell me a fly is a sum of wings and six legs and two bulging +eyes. It is the fly which has the wings and legs, and not the legs and +wings which somehow nab the fly into the middle of themselves. A fly +is not a sum of various things. A fly is a fly, and the items of the +sum are still fly.</p> + +<p>So with fire. Fire is an absolute unity in it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span>self. It is a dynamic +polar principle. Establish a certain polarity between the +moon-principle and the sun-principle, between the positive and +negative, or sympathetic and volitional dynamism in any piece of +matter, and you have fire, you have the sun-phenomenon. It is the +sudden flare into the one mode, the sun mode, the material sympathetic +mode. Correspondingly, establish an opposite polarity between the +sun-principle and the water-principle, and you have decomposition into +water, or towards watery dissolution.</p> + +<p>There are two sheer dynamic principles in our universe, the +sun-principle and the moon-principle. And these principles are known +to us in immediate contact as fire and water. The sun is not fire. But +the principle of fire is the sun-principle. That is, fire is the +sudden swoop towards the sun, of matter which is suddenly +sun-polarized. Fire is the sudden sun-assertion, the release towards +the one pole only. It is the sudden revelation of the cosmic One +Polarity, One Identity.</p> + +<p>But there is another pole. There is the moon. And there is another +absolute and visible principle, the principle of water. The moon is +not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span> water. But it is the soul of water, the invisible clue to all the +waters.</p> + +<p>So that we begin to realize our visible universe as a vast dual +polarity between sun and moon. Two vast poles in space, invisible in +themselves, but visible owing to the circuit which swoops between +them, round them, the circuit of the universe, established at the +cosmic poles of the sun and moon. This then is the infinite, the +positive infinite of the positive pole, the sun-pole, negative +infinite of the negative pole, the moon-pole. And between the two +infinites all existence takes place.</p> + +<p>But wait. Existence is truly a matter of propagation between the two +infinites. But it needs a third presence. Sun-principle and +moon-principle, embracing through the æons, could never by themselves +propagate one molecule of matter. The hailstone needs a grain of dust +for its core. So does the universe. Midway between the two cosmic +infinites lies the third, which is more than infinite. This is the +Holy Ghost Life, individual life.</p> + +<p>It is so easy to imagine that between them, the two infinites of the +cosmos propagated life. But one single moment of pause and silence, +one single moment of gathering the whole soul into<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span> knowledge, will +tell us that it is a falsity. It was the living individual soul which, +dying, flung into space the two wings of the infinite, the two poles +of the sun and the moon. The sun and the moon are the two eternal +death-results of the death of individuals. Matter, all matter, is the +Life-born. And what we know as inert matter, this is only the result +of death in individuals, it is the dead bodies of individuals +decomposed and resmelted between the hammer and anvil, fire and sand +of the sun and the moon. When time began, the first individual died, +the poles of the sun and moon were flung into space, and between the +two, in a strange chaos and battle, the dead body was torn and melted +and smelted, and rolled beneath the feet of the living. So the world +was formed, always under the feet of the living.</p> + +<p>And so we have a clue to gravitation. We, mankind, are all one family. +In our individual bodies burns the positive quick of all things. But +beneath our feet, in our own earth, lies the intense center of our +human, individual death, our grave. The earth has one center, to which +we are all polarized. The circuit of our life is balanced on the +living soul within us, as the positive center, and on the earth's dark +center,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span> the center of our abiding and eternal and substantial death, +our great negative center, away below. This is the circuit of our +immediate individual existence. We stand upon our own grave, with our +death fire, the sun, on our right hand, and our death-damp, the moon, +on our left.</p> + +<p>The earth's center is no accident. It is the great individual pole of +us who die. It is the center of the first dead body. It is the first +germ-cell of death, which germ-cell threw out the great nuclei of the +sun and the moon. To this center of our earth we, as humans, are +eternally polarized, as are our trees. Inevitably, we fall to earth. +And the clue of us sinks to the earth's center, the clue of our death, +of our <i>weight</i>. And the earth flings us out as wings to the sun and +moon: or as the death-germ dividing into two nuclei. So from the earth +our radiance is flung to the sun, our marsh-fire to the moon, when we +die.</p> + +<p>We fall into the earth. But our rising was not from the earth. We rose +from the earthless quick, the unfading life. And earth, sun, and moon +are born only of our death. But it is only their polarized dynamic +connection with us who live which sustains them all in their place +and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span> maintains them all in their own activities. The inanimate +universe rests absolutely on the life-circuit of living creatures, is +built upon the arch which spans the duality of living beings.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<h3>SLEEP AND DREAMS</h3> + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="55" height="50" /></div> +<p>his is going rather far, for a book—nay, a booklet—on the child +consciousness. But it can't be helped. Child-consciousness it is. And +we have to roll away the stone of a scientific cosmos from the +tomb-mouth of that imprisoned consciousness.</p> + +<p>Now, dear reader, let us see where we are. First of all, we are +ourselves—which is the refrain of all my chants. We are ourselves. We +are living individuals. And as living individuals we are the one, pure +clue to our own cosmos. To which cosmos living individuals <i>have +always</i> been the clue, since time began, and <i>will always</i> be the +clue, while time lasts.</p> + +<p>I know it is not so fireworky as the sudden evolving of life, +somewhere, somewhen and somehow, out of force and matter with a pop. +But that pop never popped, dear reader. The boot was on the other leg. +And I wish I could<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span> mix a few more metaphors, like pops and legs and +boots, just to annoy you.</p> + +<p>Life never evolved, or evoluted, out of force and matter, dear reader. +There is no such thing as evolution, anyhow. There is only +development. Man was man in the very first plasm-speck which was his +own individual origin, and is still his own individual origin. As for +the origin, I don't know much about it. I only know there is but one +origin, and that is the individual soul. The individual soul +originated everything, and has itself no origin. So that time is a +matter of living experience, nothing else, and eternity is just a +mental trick. Of course every living speck, amoeba or newt, has its +own individual soul.</p> + +<p>And we sit on our own globe, dear reader, here individually located. +Our own individual being is our own single reality. But the single +reality of the individual being is dynamically and directly polarized +to the earth's center, which is the aggregate negative center of all +terrestrial existence. In short, the center which in life we thrust +away from, and towards which we fall, in death. For, our individual +existence being positive, we must have a negative pole to thrust away +from. And when our positive individual existence breaks, and we fall +into<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span> death, our wonderful individual gravitation-center succumbs to +the earth's gravitation-center.</p> + +<p>So there we are, individuals, single, life-born, life-living, yet all +the while poised and polarized to the aggregate center of our +substantial death, our earth's quick, powerful center-clue.</p> + +<p>There may be other individuals, alive, and having other worlds under +their feet, polarized to their own globe's center. But the very +sacredness of my own individuality prevents my pronouncing about them, +lest I, in attributing qualities to them, transgress against the pure +individuality which is theirs, beyond me.</p> + +<p>If, however, there be truly other people, with their own world under +their feet, then I think it is fair to say that we all have our +infinite identity in the sun. That in the rush and swirl of death we +pass through fiery ways to the same sun. And from the sun, can the +spores of souls pass to the various worlds? And to the worlds of the +cosmos seed across space, through the wild beams of the sun? Is there +seed of Mars in my veins? And is astrology not altogether nonsense?</p> + +<p>But if the sun is the center of our infinite oneing in death with all +the other after-death souls of the cosmos: and in that great central +station<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span> of travel, the sun, we meet and mingle and change trains for +the stars: then ought we to assume that the moon is likewise a +meeting-place of dead souls? The moon surely is a meeting-place of +cold, dead, angry souls. But from our own globe only.</p> + +<p>The moon is the center of our terrestrial individuality in the cosmos. +She is the declaration of our existence in separateness. Save for the +intense white recoil of the moon, the earth would stagger towards the +sun. The moon holds us to our own cosmic individuality, as a world +individual in space. She is the fierce center of retraction, of +frictional withdrawal into separateness. She it is who sullenly stands +with her back to us, and refuses to meet and mingle. She it is who +burns white with the intense friction of her withdrawal into +separation, that cold, proud white fire of furious, almost malignant +apartness, the struggle into fierce, frictional separation. Her white +fire is the frictional fire of the last strange, intense watery +matter, as this matter fights its way out of combination and out of +combustion with the sun-stuff. To the pure polarity of the moon fly +the essential waters of our universe. Which essential waters, at the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span> +moon's clue, are only an intense invisible energy, a polarity of the +moon.</p> + +<p>There are only three great energies in the universal life, which is +always individual and which yet sways all the physical forces as well +as the vital energy; and then the two great dynamisms of the sun and +the moon. To the dynamism of the sun belong heat, expansion-force, and +all that range. To the dynamism of the moon the <i>essential</i> watery +forces: not just gravitation, but electricity, magnetism, +radium-energy, and so on.</p> + +<p>The moon likewise is the pole of our night activities, as the sun is +the pole of our day activities. Remember that the sun and moon are but +great self-abandons which individual life has thrown out, to the right +hand and to the left. When individual life dies, it flings itself on +the right hand to the sun, on the left hand to the moon, in the dual +polarity, and sinks to earth. When any man dies, his soul divides in +death; as in life, in the first germ, it was united from two germs. It +divides into two dark germs, flung asunder: the sun-germ and the +moon-germ. Then the material body sinks to earth. And so we have the +cosmic universe such as we know it.</p> + +<p>What is the exact relationship between us and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span> the death-realm of the +afterwards we shall never know. But this relation is none the less +active every moment of our lives. There is a pure polarity between +life and death, between the living and the dead, between each living +individual and the outer cosmos. Between each living individual and +the earth's center passes a never-ceasing circuit of magnetism. It is +a circuit which in man travels up the right side, and down the left +side of the body, to the earth's center. It never ceases. But while we +are awake it is entirely under the control and spell of the total +consciousness, the individual consciousness, the soul, or self. When +we sleep, however, then this individual consciousness of the soul is +suspended for the time, and we lie completely within the circuit of +the earth's magnetism, or gravitation, or both: the circuit of the +earth's centrality. It is this circuit which is busy in all our tissue +removing or arranging the dead body of our past day. For each time we +lie down to sleep we have within us a body of death which dies with +the day that is spent. And this body of death is removed or laid in +line by the activities of the earth-circuit, the great active +death-circuit, while we sleep.</p> + +<p>As we sleep the current sweeps its own way<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span> through us, as the streets +of a city are swept and flushed at night. It sweeps through our nerves +and our blood, sweeping away the ash of our day's spent consciousness +towards one form or other of excretion. This earth-current actively +sweeping through us is really the death-activity busy in the service +of life. It behooves us to know nothing of it. And as it sweeps it +stimulates in the primary centers of consciousness vibrations which +flash images upon the mind. Usually, in deep sleep, these images pass +unrecorded; but as we pass towards the twilight of dawn and +wakefulness, we begin to retain some impression, some record of the +dream-images. Usually also the images that are accidentally swept into +the mind in sleep are as disconnected and as unmeaning as the pieces +of paper which the street cleaners sweep into a bin from the city +gutters at night. We should not think of taking all these papers, +piecing them together, and making a marvelous book of them, prophetic +of the future and pregnant with the past. We should not do so, +although every rag of printed paper swept from the gutter would have +some connection with the past day's event. But its significance, the +significance of the words printed upon it is so small, that we +relegate it into the limbo<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span> of the accidental and meaningless. There +is no vital connection between the many torn bits of paper—only an +accidental connection. Each bit of paper has reference to some actual +event: a bus-ticket, an envelope, a tract, a pastry-shop bag, a +newspaper, a hand-bill. But take them all together, bus-ticket, torn +envelope, tract, paper-bag, piece of newspaper and hand-bill, and they +have no individual sequence, they belong more to the mechanical +arrangements than to the vital consequence of our existence. And the +same with most dreams. They are the heterogeneous odds and ends of +images swept together accidentally by the besom of the night-current, +and it is beneath our dignity to attach any real importance to them. +It is always beneath our dignity to go degrading the integrity of the +individual soul by cringing and scraping among the rag-tag of accident +and of the inferior, mechanic coincidence and automatic event. Only +those events are significant which derive from or apply to the soul in +its full integrity. To go kow-towing before the facts of change, as +gamblers and fortune-readers and fatalists do, is merely a perverting +of the soul's proud integral priority, a rearing up of idiotic idols +and fetishes.</p> + +<p>Most dreams are purely insignificant, and it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span> is the sign of a weak +and paltry nature to pay any attention to them whatever. Only +occasionally they matter. And this is only when something <i>threatens</i> +us from the outer mechanical, or accidental <i>death</i>-world. When +anything threatens us from the world of death, then a dream may become +so vivid that it arouses the actual soul. And when a dream is so +intense that it arouses the soul—then we must attend to it.</p> + +<p>But we may have the most appalling nightmare because we eat pancakes +for supper. Here again, we are threatened with an arrest of the +mechanical flow of the system. This arrest becomes so serious that it +affects the great organs of the heart and lungs, and these organs +affect the primary conscious-centers.</p> + +<p>Now we shall see that this is the direct reverse of real living +consciousness. In living consciousness the primary affective centers +control the great organs. But when sleep is on us, the reverse takes place. +The great organs, being obstructed in their spontaneous-automatism, at last +with violence arouse the active conscious-centers. And these flash images +to the brain.</p> + +<p>These nightmare images are very frequently purely mechanical: as of +falling terribly downwards, or being enclosed in vaults. And such<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span> +images are pure physical transcripts. The image of falling, of flying, +of trying to run and not being able to lift the feet, of having to +creep through terribly small passages, these are direct transcripts +from the physical phenomena of circulation and digestion. It is the +directly transcribed image of the heart which, impeded in its action +by the gases of indigestion, is switched out of its established +circuit of earth-polarity, and is as if suspended over a void, or +plunging into a void: step by step, falling downstairs, maybe, +according to the strangulation of the heart beats. The same paralytic +inability to lift the feet when one needs to run, in a dream, comes +directly from the same impeded action of the heart, which is thrown +off its balance by some material obstruction. Now the heart swings +left and right in the pure circuit of the earth's polarity. Hinder +this swing, force the heart over to the left, by inflation of gas from +the stomach or by dead pressure upon the blood and nerves from any +obstruction, and you get the sensation of being unable to lift the +feet from earth: a gasping sensation. Or force the heart to +over-balance towards the right, and you get the sensation of flying or +of falling. The heart telegraphs its distress to the mind, and wakes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span> +us. The wakeful soul at once begins to deal with the obstruction, +which was too much for the mechanical night-circuits. The same holds +good of dreams of imprisonment, or of creeping through narrow +passages. They are direct transfers from the squeezing of the blood +through constricted arteries or heart chambers.</p> + +<p>Most dreams are stimulated from the blood into the nerves and the +nerve-centers. And the heart is the transmission station. For the +blood has a unity and a consciousness of its own. It has a deeper, +elemental consciousness of the mechanical or material world. In the +blood we have the body of our most elemental consciousness, our almost +material consciousness. And during sleep this material consciousness +transfers itself into the nerves and to the brain. The transfer in +wakefulness results in a feeling of pain or discomfort—as when we +have indigestion, which is pure blood-discomfort. But in sleep the +transfer is made through the dream-images which are mechanical +phenomena like mirages.</p> + +<p>Nightmares which have purely mechanical images may terrify us, give us +a great shock, but the shock does not enter our souls. We are +surprised, in the morning, to find that the bristling<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span> horror of the +night seems now just nothing—dwindled to nothing. And this is because +what was a purely material obstruction in the physical flow, temporary +only, is indeed a nothingness to the living, integral soul. We are +subject to such accidents—if we will eat pancakes for supper. And +that is the end of it.</p> + +<p>But there are other dreams which linger and haunt the soul. These are +true soul-dreams. As we know, life consists of reactions and +interrelations from the great centers of primary consciousness. I may +start a chain of connection from one center, which inevitably +stimulates into activity the corresponding center. For example, I may +develop a profound and passional love for my mother, in my days of +adolescence. This starts, willy-nilly, the whole activity of adult +love at the lower centers. But admission is made only of the upper, +spiritual love, the love dynamically polarized at the upper centers. +Nevertheless, whether the admission is made or not, once establish the +circuit in the upper or spiritual centers of adult love, and you will +get a corresponding activity in the lower, passional centers of adult +love.</p> + +<p>The activity at the lower center, however, is denied in the daytime. +There is a repression.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span> Then the friction of the night-flow liberates +the repressed psychic activity explosively. And then the image of the +mother figures in passionate, disturbing, soul-rending dreams.</p> + +<p>The Freudians point to this as evidence of a repressed incest desire. +The Freudians are too simple. It is <i>always</i> wrong to accept a +dream-meaning at its face value. Sleep is the time when we are given +over to the automatic processes of the inanimate universe. Let us not +forget this. Dreams are automatic in their nature. The psyche +possesses remarkably few dynamic images. In the case of the boy who +dreams of his mother, we have the aroused but unattached sex plunging +in sleep, causing a sort of obstruction. We have the image of the +mother, the dynamic emotional image. And the automatism of the +dream-process immediately unites the sex-sensation to the great stock +image, and produces an incest dream. But does this prove a repressed +incest desire? On the contrary.</p> + +<p>The truth is, every man has, the moment he awakes, a hatred of his +dream, and a great desire to be free of the dream, free of the +persistent mother-image or sister-image of the dream. It is a ghoul, +it haunts his dreams, this image,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span> with its hateful conclusions. And +yet he cannot get free. As long as a man lives he may, in his dreams +of passion or conflict, be haunted by the mother-image or +sister-image, even when he knows that the cause of the disturbing +dream is the wife. But even though the actual subject of the dream is +the wife, still, over and over again, for years, the dream-process +will persist in substituting the mother-image. It haunts and terrifies +a man.</p> + +<p>Why does the dream-process act so? For two reasons. First, the reason +of simple automatic continuance. The mother-image was the first great +emotional image to be introduced in the psyche. The dream-process +mechanically reproduces its stock image the moment the intense +sympathy-emotion is aroused. Again, the mother-image refers only to +the upper plane. But the dream-process is mechanical in its logic. +Because the mother-image refers to the great dynamic stress of the +upper plane, therefore it refers to the great dynamic stress of the +lower. This is a piece of sheer automatic logic. The living soul is +<i>not</i> automatic, and automatic logic does not apply to it.</p> + +<p>But for our second reason for the image. In becoming the object of +great emotional stress<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span> for her son, the mother also becomes an object +of poignancy, of anguish, of arrest, to her son. She arrests him from +finding his proper fulfillment on the sensual plane. Now it is almost +always the object of arrest which becomes impressed, as it were, upon +the psyche. A man very rarely has an image of a person with whom he is +livingly, vitally connected. He only has dream-images of the persons +who, in some way, <i>oppose</i> his life-flow and his soul's freedom, and +so become impressed upon his plasm as objects of resistance. Once a +man is dynamically caught on the upper plane by mother or sister, then +the dream-image of mother or sister will persist until the dynamic +<i>rapport</i> between himself and his mother or sister is finally broken. +And the dream-image from the upper plane will be automatically applied +to the disturbance of the lower plane.</p> + +<p>Because—and this is very important—the dream-process <i>loves</i> its own +automatism. It would force everything to an automatic-logical +conclusion in the psyche. But the living, wakeful psyche is so +flexible and sensitive, it has a horror of automatism. While the soul +really lives, its deepest dread is perhaps the dread of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span> automatism. +For automatism in life is a forestalling of the death process.</p> + +<p>The living soul has its great fear. The living soul <i>fears</i> the +automatically logical conclusion of incest. Hence the sleep-process +invariably draws this conclusion. The dream-process, fiendishly, plays +a triumph of automatism over us. But the dream-conclusion is almost +invariably just the <i>reverse</i> of the soul's desire, in any +distress-dream. Popular dream-telling understood this, and pronounced +that you must read dreams backwards. Dream of a wedding, and it means +a funeral. Wish your friend well, and fear his death, and you will +dream of his funeral. Every desire has its corresponding fear that the +desire shall not be fulfilled. It is <i>fear</i> which forms an +arrest-point in the psyche, hence an image. So the dream automatically +produces the fear-image as the desire-image. If you secretly wished +your enemy dead, and feared he might flourish, the dream would present +you with his wedding.</p> + +<p>Of course this rule of inversion is too simple to hold good in all +cases. Yet it is one of the most general rules for dreams, and applies +most often to desire-and-fear dreams of a psychic nature.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span></p> + +<p>So that an incest-dream would not prove an incest-desire in the living +psyche. Rather the contrary, a living fear of the automatic +conclusion: the soul's just dread of automatism. And though this may +sound like casuistry, I believe it does explain a good deal of the +dream-trick.—That which is lovely to the automatic process is hateful +to the spontaneous soul. The wakeful living soul fears automatism as +it fears death: death being automatic.</p> + +<p>It seems to me these are the first two dream-principles, and the two +most important: the principle of automatism and the principle of +inversion. They will not resolve everything for us, but they will help +a great deal. We have to be <i>very</i> wary of giving way to dreams. It is +really a sin against ourselves to prostitute the living spontaneous +soul to the tyranny of dreams, or of chance, or fortune or luck, or +any of the processes of the automatic sphere.</p> + +<p>Then consider other dynamic dreams. First, the dream-image generally. +Any <i>significant</i> dream-image is usually an image or a symbol of some +arrest or scotch in the living spontaneous psyche. There is another +principle. But if the image is a symbol, then the only safe way to +ex<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span>plain the symbol is to proceed from the quality of emotion +connected with the symbol.</p> + +<p>For example, a man has a persistent passionate fear-dream about +horses. He suddenly finds himself among great, physical horses, which +may suddenly go wild. Their great bodies surge madly round him, they +rear above him, threatening to destroy him. At any minute he may be +trampled down.</p> + +<p>Now a psychoanalyst will probably tell you off-hand that this is a +father-complex dream. Certain symbols seem to be put into complex +catalogues. But it is all too arbitrary.</p> + +<p>Examining the emotional reference we find that the feeling is sensual, +there is a great impression of the powerful, almost beautiful physical +bodies of the horses, the nearness, the rounded haunches, the rearing. +Is the dynamic passion in a horse the danger-passion? It is a great +sensual reaction at the sacral ganglion, a reaction of intense, +sensual, dominant volition. The horse which rears and kicks and neighs +madly acts from the intensely powerful sacral ganglion. But this +intense activity from the sacral ganglion is male: the sacral ganglion +is at its highest intensity in the male. So that the horse-dream +refers to some arrest in the deepest sensual<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span> activity in the male. +The horse is presented as an object of terror, which means that to the +man's automatic dream-soul, which loves automatism, the great sensual +male activity is the greatest menace. The automatic pseudo-soul, which +has got the sensual nature repressed, would like to keep it repressed. +Whereas the greatest desire of the living spontaneous soul is that +this very male sensual nature, represented as a menace, shall be +actually accomplished in life. The spontaneous self is secretly +yearning for the liberation and fulfillment of the deepest and most +powerful sensual nature. There may be an element of father-complex. +The horse may also refer to the powerful sensual being in the father. +The dream may mean a love of the dreamer for the sensual male who is +his father. But it has nothing to do with <i>incest</i>. The love is +probably a just love.</p> + +<p>The bull-dream is a curious reversal. In the bull the centers of power +are in the breast and shoulders. The horns of the head are symbols of +this vast power in the upper self. The woman's fear of the bull is a +great terror of the dynamic <i>upper</i> centers in man. The bull's horns, +instead of being phallic, represent the enormous potency of the upper +centers. A<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span> woman whose most positive dynamism is in the breast and +shoulders is fascinated by the bull. Her dream-fear of the bull and +his horns which may run into her may be reversed to a significance of +desire for connection, not from the centers of the lower, sensual +self, but from the intense physical centers of the upper body: the +phallus polarized from the upper centers, and directed towards the +great breast center of the woman. Her wakeful fear is terror of the +great breast-and-shoulder, <i>upper</i> rage and power of man, which may +pierce her defenseless lower self. The terror and the desire are near +together—and go with an admiration of the slender, abstracted bull +loins.</p> + +<p>Other dream-fears, or strong dream-impressions, may be almost +imageless. They may be a great terror, for example, of a purely +geometric figure—a figure from pure geometry, or an example of pure +mathematics. Or they may have no image, but only a sensation of smell, +or of color, or of sound.</p> + +<p>These are the dream-fears of the soul which is falling out of human +integrity into the purely mechanical mode. If we idealize ourselves +sufficiently, the spontaneous centers do at last work only, or almost +only, in the mechanical<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span> mode. They have no dynamic relation with +another being. They cannot have. Their whole power of dynamic +relationship is quenched. They act now in reference purely to the +mechanical world, of force and matter, sensation and law. So that in +dream-activity sensation or abstraction, abstract law or calculation +occurs as the predominant or exclusive image. In the dream there may +be a sensation of admiration or delight. The waking sensation is fear. +Because the soul fears above all things its fall from individual +integrity into the mechanic activity of the outer world, which is the +automatic death-world.</p> + +<p>And this is our danger to-day. We tend, through deliberate idealism or +deliberate material purpose, to destroy the soul in its first nature +of spontaneous, integral being, and to substitute the second nature, +the automatic nature of the mechanical universe. For this purpose we +stay up late at night, and we rise late in the morning.</p> + +<p>To stay up late into the night is always bad. Let us be as ideal as we +may, when the sun goes down the natural mode of life changes in us. +The mind changes its activity. As the soul gradually goes passive, +before yielding up its sway,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span> the mind falls into its second phase of +activity. It collects the results of the spent day into consciousness, +lays down the honey of quiet thought, or the bitter-sweet honey of the +gathered flower. It is the consciousness of that which is past. +Evening is our time to read history and tragedy and romance—all of +which are the utterance of that which is past, that which is over, +that which is finished, is concluded: either sweetly concluded, or +bitterly. Evening is the time for this.</p> + +<p>But evening is the time also for revelry, for drink, for passion. +Alcohol enters the blood and acts as the sun's rays act. It inflames +into life, it liberates into energy and consciousness. But by a +process of combustion. That life of the day which we have not lived, +by means of sun-born alcohol we can now flare into sensation, +consciousness, energy and passion, and live it out. It is a liberation +from the laws of idealism, a release from the restriction of control +and fear. It is the blood bursting into consciousness. But naturally +the course of the liberated consciousness may be in either direction: +sharper mental action, greater fervor of spiritual emotion, or deeper +sensuality. Nowadays the last is becoming much more unusual.</p> + +<p>The active mind-consciousness of the night is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span> a form of +retrospection, or else it is a form of impulsive exclamation, direct +from the blood, and unbalanced. Because the active physical +consciousness of the night is the blood-consciousness, the most +elemental form of consciousness. Vision is perhaps our highest form of +<i>dynamic</i> upper consciousness. But our deepest lower consciousness is +blood-consciousness.</p> + +<p>And the dynamic lower centers are swayed from the blood. When the +blood rouses into its night intensity, it naturally kindles first the +lowest dynamic centers. It transfers its voice and its fire to the +great hypogastric plexus, which governs, with the help of the sacral +ganglion, the flow of urine through us, but which also voices the deep +swaying of the blood in sex passion. Sex is our deepest form of +consciousness. It is utterly non-ideal, non-mental. It is pure +blood-consciousness. It is the basic consciousness of the blood, the +nearest thing in us to pure material consciousness. It is the +consciousness of the night, when the soul is <i>almost</i> asleep.</p> + +<p>The blood-consciousness is the first and last knowledge of the living +soul: the depths. It is the soul acting in part only, speaking with +its first hoarse half-voice. And blood-conscious<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span>ness cannot operate +purely until the soul has put off all its manifold degrees and forms +of upper consciousness. As the self falls back into quiescence, it +draws itself from the brain, from the great nerve-centers, into the +blood, where at last it will sleep. But as it draws and folds itself +livingly in the blood, at the dark and powerful hour, it sends out its +great call. For even the blood is alone and in part, and needs an +answer. Like the waters of the Red Sea, the blood is divided in a dual +polarity between the sexes. As the night falls and the consciousness +sinks deeper, suddenly the blood is heard hoarsely calling. Suddenly +the deep centers of the sexual consciousness rouse to their +spontaneous activity. Suddenly there is a deep circuit established +between me and the woman. Suddenly the sea of blood which is me heaves +and rushes towards the sea of blood which is her. There is a moment of +pure frictional crisis and contact of blood. And then all the blood in +me ebbs back into its ways, transmuted, changed. And this is the +profound basis of my renewal, my deep blood renewal.</p> + +<p>And this has nothing to do with pretty faces or white skin or rosy +breasts or any of the rest of the trappings of sexual love. These +trappings belong to the day. Neither eyes nor hands<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span> nor mouth have +anything to do with the final massive and dark collision of the blood +in the sex crisis, when the strange flash of electric transmutation +passes through the blood of the man and the blood of the woman. They +fall apart and sleep in their transmutation.</p> + +<p>But even in its profoundest, and most elemental movements, the soul is +still individual. Even in its most material consciousness, it is still +integral and individual. You would think the great blood-stream of +mankind was one and homogeneous. And it is indeed more nearly one, +more near to homogeneity than anything else within us. The +blood-stream of mankind is almost homogeneous.</p> + +<p>But it isn't homogeneous. In the first place, it is dual in a perfect +dark dynamic polarity, the sexual polarity. No getting away from the +fact that the blood of woman is dynamically polarized in opposition, +or in difference to the blood of man. The crisis of their contact in +sex connection is the moment of establishment of a new flashing +circuit throughout the whole sea: the dark, burning red waters of our +under-world rocking in a new dynamic rhythm in each of us. And then in +the second place, the blood of an individual is his <i>own</i> blood. That +is, it is indi<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span>vidual. And though we have a potential dynamic sexual +connection, we men, with almost every woman, yet the great outstanding +fact of the individuality even of the blood makes us need a +corresponding individuality in the woman we are to embrace. The more +individual the man or woman, the more unsatisfactory is a +non-individual connection: promiscuity. The more individual, the more +does our blood cry out for its own specific answer, an individual +woman, blood-polarized with us.</p> + +<p>We have made the mistake of idealism again. We have thought that the +woman who thinks and talks as we do will be the blood-answer. And we +force it to be so. To our disaster. The woman who thinks and talks as +we do is almost sure to have no dynamic blood-polarity with us. The +dynamic blood-polarity would make her different from me, and not like +me in her thought mode. Blood-sympathy is so much deeper than +thought-mode, that it may result in very different expression, +verbally.</p> + +<p>We have made the mistake of turning life inside out: of dragging the +day-self into the night, and spreading the night-self over into the +day. We have made love and sex a matter of seeing and hearing and of +day-conscious manipulation.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span> We have made men and women come together +on the grounds of this superficial likeness and commonalty—their +mental, and upper sympathetic consciousness. And so we have forced the +blood to submission. Which means we force it into disintegration.</p> + +<p>We have too much light in the night, and too much sleep in the day. It +is an evil thing for us to prolong as we do the mental, visual, ideal +consciousness far into the night when the hour has come for this upper +consciousness to fade, for the blood alone to know and to act. By +provoking the reaction of the great blood-stress, the sex-reaction, +from the upper, outer mental consciousness and mental lasciviousness +of conscious purpose, we thereby destroy the very blood in our bodies. +We prevent it from having its own dynamic sway. We prevent it from +coming to its own dynamic crisis and connection, from finding its own +fundamental being. No matter how we work our sex, from the upper or +outer consciousness, we don't achieve anything but the falsification +and impoverishment of our own blood-life. We have no choice. Either we +must withdraw from interference, or slowly deteriorate.</p> + +<p>We have made a corresponding mistake in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span> sleeping on into the day. +Once the sun rises our constitution changes. Once the sun is well up +our sleep—supposing our life fairly normal—is no longer truly sleep. +When the sun comes up the centers of active dynamic upper +consciousness begin to wake. The blood changes its vibration and even +its chemical constitution. And then we too ought to wake. We do +ourselves great damage by sleeping too long into the day. The +half-hour's sleep after midday meal is a readjustment. But the long +hours of morning sleep are just a damage. We submit our now active +centers of upper consciousness to the dominion of the blood-automatic +flow. We chain ourselves down in our morning sleep. We transmute the +morning's blood-strength into false dreams and into an ever-increasing +force of inertia. And naturally, in the same line of inertia we +persist from bad to worse.</p> + +<p>With the result that our chained-down, active nerve-centers are +half-shattered before we arise. We never become newly day-conscious, +because we have subjected our powerful centers of day-consciousness to +be trampled and wasted into dreams and inertia by the heavy flow of +the blood-automatism in the morning sleeps. Then we arise with a +feeling of the monotony and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span> automatism of life. There is no good, +glad refreshing. We feel tired to start with. And so we protract our +day-consciousness on into the night, when we <i>do</i> at last begin to +come awake, and we tell ourselves we must sleep, sleep, sleep in the +morning and the daytime. It is better to sleep only six hours than to +prolong sleep on and on when the sun has risen. Every man and woman +should be forced out of bed soon after the sun has risen: particularly +the nervous ones. And forced into physical activity. Soon after dawn +the vast majority of people should be hard at work. If not, they will +soon be nervously diseased.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<h3>THE LOWER SELF</h3> + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_s.jpg" alt="S" width="36" height="50" /></div> +<p>o it comes about that the moon is the planet of our nights, as the +sun of our days. And this is not just accidental, or even mechanical. +The influence of the moon upon the tides and upon us is not just an +accident in phenomena. It is the result of the creation of the +universe by life itself. It was life itself which threw the moon apart +on the one hand, the sun on the other. And it is life itself which +keeps the dynamic-vital relation constant between the moon and the +living individuals of the globe. The moon is as dependent upon the +life of individuals, for her continued existence, as each single +individual is dependent upon the moon.</p> + +<p>The same with the sun. The sun sets and has his perfect polarity in +the life-circuit established between him and all living individuals. +Break that circuit, and the sun breaks. Without man, beasts, +butterflies, trees, toads, the sun would gutter out like a spent lamp. +It is the life-emis<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span>sion from individuals which feeds his burning and +establishes his sun-heart in its powerful equilibrium.</p> + +<p>The same with the moon. She lives from us, primarily, and we from her. +Everything is a question of relativity. Not only is every force +relative to other force or forces, but every existence is relative to +other existences. Not only does the life of man depend on man, beast, +and herb, but on the sun and moon, and the stars. And in another +manner, the existence of the moon depends absolutely on the life of +herb, beast, and man. The existence of the moon depends upon the life +of individuals, that which alone is original. Without the life of +individuals the moon would fall asunder. And the moon particularly, +because she is polarized dynamically to this, our own earth. We do not +know what far-off life breathes between the stars and the sun. But our +life alone supports the moon. Just as the moon is the pole of our +single terrestrial individuality.</p> + +<p>Therefore we must know that between the moon and each individual being +exists a vital dynamic flow. The life of individuals depends directly +upon the moon, just as the moon depends directly upon the life of +individuals.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span></p> + +<p>But in what way does the life of individuals depend directly upon the +moon?</p> + +<p>The moon is the mother of darkness. She is the clue to the active +darkness. And we, below the waist, we have our being in darkness. +Below the waist we are sightless. When, in the daytime, our life is +polarized upwards, towards the open, sun-wakened eyes and the mind +which sees in vision, then the powerful dynamic centers of the lower +body act in subservience, in their negative polarity. And then we flow +upwards, we go forth seeking the universe, in vision, speech, and +thought—we go forth to see all things, to hear all things, to know +all things by acquaintance and by knowledge. One flood of dynamic flow +are we, upwards polarized, in our tallness and our wide-eyed spirit +seeking to bring all the universe into the range of our conscious +individuality, and eager always to make new worlds, out of this old +world, to bud new green tips on the tree of life. Just as a tree would +die if it were not making new green tips upon all its vast old world +of a body, so the whole universe would perish if man and beast and +herb were not always putting forth a newness: the toad taking a +vivider color, spreading his hands a little more gently, developing a +more rusé intelligence, the birds adding a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span> new note to their speech +and song, a new sharp swerve to their flight, a new nicety to their +nests; and man, making new worlds, new civilizations. If it were not +for this striving into new creation on the part of living individuals, +the universe would go dead, gradually, gradually and fall asunder. +Like a tree that ceases to put forth new green tips, and to advance +out a little further.</p> + +<p>But each new tip arises out of the apparent death of the old, the +preceding one. Old leaves have got to fall, old forms must die. And if +men must at certain periods fall into death in millions, why, so must +the leaves fall every single autumn. And dead leaves make good mold. +And so dead men. Even dead men's souls.</p> + +<p>So if death has to be the goal for a great number, then let it be so. +If America must invent this poison-gas, let her. When death is our +goal of goals we shall invent the means of death, let our professions +of benevolence be what they will.</p> + +<p>But this time, it seems to me, we have consciously and responsibly to +carry ourselves through the winter-period, the period of death and +denudation: that is, some of us have, some <i>nation</i> even must. For +there are not now, as in the Roman times, any great reservoirs of +energetic barbaric life. Goths, Gauls, Germans,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span> Slavs, Tartars. The +world is very full of people, but all fixed in civilizations of their +own, and they all have all our vices, all our mechanisms, and all our +means of destruction. This time, the leading civilization cannot die +out as Greece, Rome, Persia died. It must suffer a great collapse, +maybe. But it must carry through all the collapse the living clue to +the next civilization. It's no good thinking we can leave it to China +or Japan or India or Africa—any of the great swarms.</p> + +<p>And here we are, we don't look much like carrying through to a new +era. What have we got that will carry through? The latest craze is Mr. +Einstein's Relativity Theory. Curious that everybody catches fire at +the word Relativity. There must be something in the mere suggestion, +which we have been waiting for. But what? As far as I can see, +Relativity means, for the common amateur mind, that there is no one +absolute force in the physical universe, to which all other forces may +be referred. There is no one single absolute central principle +governing the world. The great cosmic forces or mechanical principles +can only be known in their relation to one another, and can only exist +in their relation to one another. But, says Einstein, this relation<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span> +between the mechanical forces is constant, and may be expressed by a +mathematical formula: which mathematical formula may be used to equate +all mechanical forces of the universe.</p> + +<p>I hope that is not scientifically all wrong. It is what I understand +of the Einstein theory. What I doubt is the equation formula. It seems +to me, also, that the velocity of light through space is the <i>deus ex +machina</i> in Einstein's physics. Somebody will some day put salt on the +tail of light as it travels through space, and then its simple +velocity will split up into something complex, and the Relativity +formula will fall to bits.—But I am a confirmed outsider, so I'll +hold my tongue.</p> + +<p>All I know is that people have got the word Relativity into their +heads, and catch-words always refer to some latent idea or conception +in the popular mind. It has taken a Jew to knock the last center-pin +out of our ideally spinning universe. The Jewish intelligence for +centuries has been picking holes in our ideal system—scientific and +sociological. Very good thing for us. Now Mr. Einstein, we are glad to +say, has pulled out the very axle pin. At least that is how the vulgar +mind understands it. The equation formula doesn't count.—So now, the +uni<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span>verse, according to the popular mind, can wobble about without +being pinned down.—Really, an anarchical conclusion. But the Jewish +mind insidiously drives us to anarchical conclusions. We are glad to +be driven from false, automatic fixities, anyhow. And once we are +driven right on to nihilism we may find a way through.</p> + +<p>So, there is nothing absolute left in the universe. Nothing. Lord +Haldane says pure knowledge is absolute. As far as it goes, no doubt. +But pure knowledge is only such a tiny bit of the universe, and always +relative to the thing known and to the knower.</p> + +<p>I feel inclined to Relativity myself. I think there is no one absolute +principle in the universe. I think everything is relative. But I also +feel, most strongly, that in itself each individual living creature is +absolute: in its own being. And that all things in the universe are +just relative to the individual living creature. And that individual +living creatures are relative to each other.</p> + +<p>And what about a goal? There is no final goal. But every step taken +has its own little relative goal. So what about the next step?</p> + +<p>Well, first and foremost, that every individual creature shall come to +its own particular and in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span>dividual fullness of being.—Very nice, very +pretty—but <i>how</i>? Well, through a living dynamic relation to other +creatures.—Very nice again, pretty little adjectives. But what <i>sort</i> +of a living dynamic relation?—Well, <i>not</i> the relation of love, +that's one thing, nor of brotherhood, nor equality. The next relation +has got to be a relationship of men towards men in a spirit of +unfathomable trust and responsibility, service and leadership, +obedience and pure authority. Men have got to choose their leaders, +and obey them to the death. And it must be a system of culminating +aristocracy, society tapering like a pyramid to the supreme leader.</p> + +<p>All of which sounds very distasteful at the moment. But upon all the +vital lessons we have learned during our era of love and spirit and +democracy we can found our new order.</p> + +<p>We wanted to be all of a piece. And we couldn't bring it off. Because +we just <i>aren't</i> all of a piece. We wanted first to have nothing but +nice daytime selves, awfully nice and kind and refined. But it didn't +work. Because whether we want it or not, we've got night-time selves. +And the most spiritual woman ever born or made has to perform her +natural functions just like<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span> anybody else. We must <i>always</i> keep in +line with this fact.</p> + +<p>Well, then, we have night-time selves. And the night-self is the very +basis of the dynamic self. The blood-consciousness and the +blood-passion is the very source and origin of us. Not that we can +<i>stay</i> at the source. Nor even make a <i>goal</i> of the source, as Freud +does. The business of living is to travel away from the source. But +you must start every single day fresh from the source. You must rise +every day afresh out of the dark sea of the blood.</p> + +<p>When you go to sleep at night, you have to say: "Here dies the man I +am and know myself to be." And when you rise in the morning you have +to say: "Here rises an unknown quantity which is still myself."</p> + +<p>The self which rises naked every morning out of the dark sleep of the +passionate, hoarsely-calling blood: this is the unit for the next +society. And the polarizing of the passionate blood in the individual +towards life, and towards leader, this must be the dynamic of the next +civilization. The intense, passionate yearning of the soul towards the +soul of a stronger, greater individual, and the passionate +blood-belief in the fulfillment<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span> of this yearning will give men the +next motive for life.</p> + +<p>We have to sink back into the darkness and the elemental consciousness +of the blood. And from this rise again. But there is no rising until +the bath of darkness and extinction is accomplished.</p> + +<p>As social units, as civilized men we have to do what we do as physical +organisms. Every day, the sun sets from the sky, and darkness falls, +and every day, when this happens, the tide of life turns in us. +Instead of flowing upwards and outwards towards mental consciousness +and activity, it turns back, to flow downwards. Downwards towards the +digestion processes, downwards further to the great sexual +conjunctions, downwards to sleep.</p> + +<p>This is the soul now retreating, back from the outer life of day, back +to the origins. And so, it stays its hour at the first great sensual +stations, the solar plexus and the lumbar ganglion. But the tide ebbs +on, down to the immense, almost inhuman passionate darkness of sex, +the strange and moon-like intensity of the hypogastric plexus and the +sacral ganglion, then deep, deeper, past the last great station of the +darkest psyche, down to the earth's center. Then we sleep.</p> + +<p>And the moon is the tide-turner. The moon is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span> the great cosmic pole +which calls us back, back out of our day-self, back through the +moonlit darknesses of the sensual planes, to sleep. It is the moon +that sways the blood, and sways us back into the extinction of the +blood.—And as the soul retreats back into the sea of its own +darkness, the mind, stage by stage, enjoys the mental consciousness +that belongs to this retreat back into the sensual deeps; and then it +goes extinguished. There is sleep.</p> + +<p>And so we resolve back towards our elementals. We dissolve back, out +of the upper consciousness, out of mind and sight and speech, back, +down into the deep and massive, swaying consciousness of the dark, +living blood. At the last hour of sex I am no more than a powerful +wave of mounting blood. Which seeks to surge and join with the +answering sea in the other individual. When the sea of individual +blood which I am at that hour heaves and finds its pure contact with +the sea of individual blood which is the woman at that hour, then each +of us enters into the wholeness of our deeper infinitude, our profound +fullness of being, in the ocean of our oneness and our consciousness.</p> + +<p>This is under the spell of the moon, of sea-born Aphrodite, mother and +bitter goddess. For<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span> I am carried away from my sunny day-self into +this other tremendous self, where knowledge will not save me, but +where I must obey as the sea obeys the tides. Yet however much I go, I +know that I am all the while myself, in my going.</p> + +<p>This then is the duality of my day and my night being: a duality so +bitter to an adolescent. For the adolescent thinks with shame and +terror of his night. He would wish to have no night-self. But it is +Moloch, and he cannot escape it.</p> + +<p>The tree is born of its roots and its leaves. And we of our days and +our nights. Without the night-consummation we are trees without roots.</p> + +<p>And the night-consummation takes place under the spell of the moon. It +is one pure motion of meeting and oneing. But even so, it is a +circuit, not a straight line. One pure motion of meeting and oneing, +until the flash breaks forth, when the two are one. And this, this +flashing moment of the ignition of two seas of blood, this is the +moment of begetting. But the begetting of a child is less than the +begetting of the man and the woman. Woman is begotten of man at that +moment, into her greater self: and man is begotten of woman. This is +the main. And that which cannot be fulfilled, perfected in the two +individ<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span>uals, that which cannot take fire into individual life, this +trickles down and is the seed of a new life, destined ultimately to +fulfill that which the parents could not fulfill. So it is for ever.</p> + +<p>Sex then is a polarization of the individual blood in man towards the +individual blood in woman. It is more, also. But in its prime +functional reality it is this. And sex union means bringing into +connection the dynamic poles of sex in man and woman.</p> + +<p>In sex we have our basic, most elemental being. Here we have our most +elemental contact. It is from the hypogastric plexus and the sacral +ganglion that the dark forces of manhood and womanhood sparkle. From +the dark plexus of sympathy run out the acute, intense sympathetic +vibrations direct to the corresponding pole. Or so it should be, in +genuine passionate love. There is no mental interference. There is +even no interference of the upper centers. Love is supposed to be +blind. Though modern love wears strong spectacles.</p> + +<p>But love is really blind. Without sight or scent or hearing the +powerful magnetic current vibrates from the hypogastric plexus in the +female, vibrating on to the air like some intense wireless message. +And there is immediate re<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span>sponse from the sacral ganglion in some +male. And then sight and day-consciousness begin to fade. In the lower +animals apparently any male can receive the vibration of any female: +and if need be, even across long distances of space. But the higher +the development the more individual the attunement. Every wireless +station can only receive those messages which are in its own vibration +key. So with sex in specialized individuals. From the powerful dynamic +center the female sends out her dark summons, the intense dark +vibration of sex. And according to her nature, she receives her +responses from the males. The male enters the magnetic field of the +female. He vibrates helplessly in response. There is established at +once a dynamic circuit, more or less powerful. It would seem as if, +while ever life remains free and wild and independent, the +sex-circuit, while it lasts, is omnipotent. There is one electric flow +which encompasses one male and one female, or one male and one +particular group of females all polarized in the same key of +vibration.</p> + +<p>This circuit of vital sex magnetism, at first loose and wide, +gradually closes and becomes more powerful, contracts and grows more +intense, until the two individuals arrive into con<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span>tact. And even then +the pulse and flow of attraction and recoil varies. In free wild life, +each touch brings about an intense recoil, and each recoil causes an +intense sympathetic attraction. So goes on the strange battle of +desire, until the consummation is reached.</p> + +<p>It is the precise parallel of what happens in a thunder-storm, when +the dynamic forces of the moon and the sun come into collision. The +result is threefold: first, the electric flash, then the birth of pure +water, new water.</p> + +<p>So it is in sex relation. There is a threefold result. First, the +flash of pure sensation and of real electricity. Then there is the +birth of an entirely new state of blood in each partner. And then +there is the liberation.</p> + +<p>But the main thing, as in the thunder-storm, is the absolute renewal +of the atmosphere: in this case, the blood. It would no doubt be found +that the electro-dynamic condition of the white and red corpuscles of +the blood was quite different after sex union, and that the chemical +composition of the fluid of the blood was quite changed.</p> + +<p>And in this renewal lies the great magic of sex. The life of an +individual goes on apparently the same from day to day. But as a +matter<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span> of fact there is an inevitable electric accumulation in the +nerves and the blood, an accumulation which weighs there and broods +there with intolerable pressure. And the only possible means of relief +and renewal is in pure passional interchange. There is and must be a +pure passional interchange from the upper self, as when men unite in +some great creative or religious or constructive activity, or as when +they fight each other to the death. The great goal of creative or +constructive activity, or of heroic victory in fight, <i>must</i> always be +the goal of the daytime self. But the very possibility of such a goal +arises out of the vivid dynamism of the conscious blood. And the blood +in an individual finds its great renewal in a perfected sex circuit.</p> + +<p>A perfected sex circuit and a successful sex union. And there can be +no successful sex union unless the greater hope of purposive, +constructive activity fires the soul of the man all the time: or the +hope of passionate, purposive <i>destructive</i> activity: the two amount +religiously to the same thing, within the individual. Sex as an end in +itself is a disaster: a vice. But an ideal purpose which has no roots +in the deep sea of passionate sex is a greater disaster still. And now +we have only these two things: sex as a fatal<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span> goal, which is the +essential theme of modern tragedy: or ideal purpose as a deadly +parasite. Sex passion as a goal in itself always leads to tragedy. +There must be the great purposive inspiration always present. But the +automatic ideal-purpose is not even a tragedy, it is a slow +humiliation and sterility.</p> + +<p>The great thing is to keep the sexes pure. And by pure we don't mean +an ideal sterile innocence and similarity between boy and girl. We +mean pure maleness in a man, pure femaleness in a woman. Woman is +really polarized downwards, towards the center of the earth. Her deep +positivity is in the downward flow, the moon-pull. And man is +polarized upwards, towards the sun and the day's activity. Women and +men are dynamically different, in everything. Even in the mind, where +we seem to meet, we are really utter strangers. We may speak the same +verbal language, men and women: as Turk and German might both speak +Latin. But <i>whatever</i> a man says, his meaning is something quite +different and changed when it passes through a woman's ears. And +though you reverse the sexual polarity, the flow between the sexes, +still the difference is the same. The <i>apparent</i> mutual understanding, +in companionship between a man and a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span> woman, is always an illusion, +and always breaks down in the end.</p> + +<p>Woman can polarize her consciousness upwards. She can obtain a hand +even over her sex receptivity. She can divert even the electric spasm +of coition into her upper consciousness: it was the trick which the +snake and the apple between them taught her. The snake, whose +consciousness is <i>only</i> dynamic, and non-cerebral. The snake, who has +no mental life, but only an intensely vivid dynamic mind, he envied +the human race its mental consciousness. And he knew, this intensely +wise snake, that the one way to make humanity pay more than the price +of mental consciousness was to pervert woman into mentality: to +stimulate her into the upper flow of consciousness.</p> + +<p>For the true polarity of consciousness in woman is downwards. Her +deepest consciousness is in the loins and belly. Even when perverted, +it is so. The great flow of female consciousness is downwards, down to +the weight of the loins and round the circuit of the feet. Pervert +this, and make a false flow upwards, to the breast and head, and you +get a race of "intelligent" women, delightful companions, tricky +courtesans, clever prostitutes, noble idealists, devoted friends, +in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span>teresting mistresses, efficient workers, brilliant managers, women +as good as men at all the manly tricks: and better, because they are +so very headlong once they go in for men's tricks. But then, after a +while, pop it all goes. The moment woman has got man's ideals and +tricks drilled into her, the moment she is competent in the manly +world—there's an end of it. She's had enough. She's had more than +enough. She hates the thing she has embraced. She becomes absolutely +perverse, and her one end is to prostitute herself and her ideals to +sex. Which is her business at the present moment.</p> + +<p>We bruise the serpent's head: his flat and brainless head. But his +revenge of bruising our heel is a good one. The heels, through which +the powerful downward circuit flows: these are bruised in us, numbed +with a horrible neurotic numbness. The dark strong flow that polarizes +us to the earth's center is hampered, broken. We become flimsy fungoid +beings, with no roots and no hold in the earth, like mushrooms. The +serpent has bruised our heel till we limp. The lame gods, the enslaved +gods, the toiling limpers moaning for the woman. You don't find the +sun and moon playing at pals in the sky. Their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span> beams cross the great +gulf which is between them.</p> + +<p>So with man and woman. They must stand clear again. They must fight +their way out of their self-consciousness: there is nothing else. Or, +rather, each must fight the other out of self-consciousness. Instead +of this leprous forbearance which we are taught to practice in our +intimate relationships, there should be the most intense open +antagonism. If your wife flirts with other men, and you don't like it, +say so before them all, before wife and man and all, say you won't +have it. If she seems to you false, in any circumstance, tell her so, +angrily, furiously, and stop her. Never mind about being justified. If +you hate anything she does, turn on her in a fury. Harry her, and make +her life a hell, so long as the real hot rage is in you. Don't +silently hate her, or silently forbear. It is such a dirty trick, so +mean and ungenerous. If you feel a burning rage, turn on her and give +it to her, and <i>never</i> repent. It'll probably hurt you much more than +it hurts her. But never repent for your real hot rages, whether +they're "justifiable" or not. If you care one sweet straw for the +woman, and if she makes you that you can't bear any more, give it to +her, and if your heart weeps<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span> tears of blood afterwards, tell her +you're thankful she's got it for once, and you wish she had it worse.</p> + +<p>The same with wives and their husbands. If a woman's husband gets on +her nerves, she should fly at him. If she thinks him too sweet and +smarmy with other people, she should let him have it to his nose, +straight out. She should lead him a dog's life, and never swallow her +bile.</p> + +<p>With wife or husband, you should never swallow your bile. It makes you +go all wrong inside. Always let fly, tooth and nail, and never repent, +no matter what sort of a figure you make.</p> + +<p>We have a vice of love, of softness and sweetness and smarminess and +intimacy and promiscuous kindness and all that sort of thing. We think +it's so awfully nice of us to be like that, in ourselves. But in our +wives or our husbands it gets on our nerves horribly. Yet we think it +oughtn't to, so we swallow our spleen.</p> + +<p>We shouldn't. When Jesus said "if thine eye offend thee, pluck it +out," he was beside the point. The eye doesn't really offend us. We +are rather fond of our own squint eye. It only offends the person who +cares for us. And it's up to this person to pluck it out.</p> + +<p>This holds particularly good of the love and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span> intimacy vice. It'll +never offend us in ourselves. While it will be gall and wormwood to +our wife or husband. And it is on this promiscuous love and intimacy +and kindness and sweetness, all a vice, that our self-consciousness +really rests. If we are battered out of this, we shall be battered out +of self-consciousness.</p> + +<p>And so, men, drive your wives, beat them out of their +self-consciousness and their soft smarminess and good, lovely idea of +themselves. Absolutely tear their lovely opinion of themselves to +tatters, and make them look a holy ridiculous sight in their own eyes. +Wives, do the same to your husbands.</p> + +<p>But fight for your life, men. Fight your wife out of her own +self-conscious preoccupation with herself. Batter her out of it till +she's stunned. Drive her back into her own true mode. Rip all her nice +superimposed modern-woman and wonderful-creature garb off her. Reduce +her once more to a naked Eve, and send the apple flying.</p> + +<p>Make her yield to her own real unconscious self, and absolutely stamp +on the self that she's got in her head. Drive her forcibly back, back +into her own true unconscious.</p> + +<p>And then you've got a harder thing still to do. Stop her from looking +on you as her "lover."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span> Cure her of that, if you haven't cured her +before. Put the fear of the Lord into her that way. And make her know +she's got to believe in you again, and in the deep purpose you stand +for. But before you can do that, you've got to <i>stand</i> for some deep +purpose. It's no good faking one up. You won't take a woman in, not +really. Even when she <i>chooses</i> to be taken in, for prettiness' sake, +it won't do you any good.</p> + +<p>But combat her. Combat her in her sexual pertinacity, and in her +secret glory or arrogance in the sexual goal. Combat her in her +cock-sure belief that she "knows" and that she is "right." Take it all +out of her. Make her yield once more to the male leadership: if you've +got anywhere to lead to. If you haven't, best leave the woman alone; +she has <i>one</i> goal of her own, anyhow, and it's better than your +nullity and emptiness.</p> + +<p>You've got to take a new resolution into your soul, and break off from +the old way. You've got to know that you're a man, and being a man +means you must go on alone, ahead of the woman, to break a way through +the old world into the new. And you've got to be alone. And you've got +to start off ahead. And if you don't know which direction to take, +look round for the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span> man your heart will point out to you. And +follow—and never look back. Because if Lot's wife, looking back, was +turned to a pillar of salt, these miserable men, for ever looking back +to their women for guidance, they are miserable pillars of half-rotten +tears.</p> + +<p>You'll have to fight to make a woman believe in you as a real man, a +real pioneer. No man is a man unless to his woman he is a pioneer. +You'll have to fight still harder to make her yield her goal to yours: +her night goal to your day goal. The moon, the planet of women, sways +us back from our day-self, sways us back from our real social unison, +sways us back, like a retreating tide, in a friction of criticism and +separation and social disintegration. That is woman's inevitable mode, +let her words be what they will. Her goal is the deep, sensual +individualism of secrecy and night-exclusiveness, hostile, with +guarded doors. And you'll have to fight very hard to make a woman +yield her goal to yours, to make her, in her own soul, <i>believe</i> in +your goal as the goal beyond, in her goal as the way by which you go. +She'll never believe until you have your soul filled with a profound +and absolutely inalterable purpose, that will yield to nothing, least +of all to her. She'll never be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span>lieve until, in your soul, you are cut +off and gone ahead, into the dark.</p> + +<p>She may of course already love you, and love you for yourself. But the +love will be a nest of scorpions unless it is overshadowed by a little +fear or awe of your further purpose, a living <i>belief</i> in your going +beyond her, into futurity.</p> + +<p>But when once a woman <i>does</i> believe in her man, in the pioneer which +he is, the pioneer who goes on ahead beyond her, into the darkness in +front, and who may be lost to her for ever in this darkness; when once +she knows the pain and beauty of this belief, knows that the +loneliness of waiting and following is inevitable, that it must be so; +ah, then, how wonderful it is! How wonderful it is to come back to +her, at evening, as she sits half in fear and waits! How good it is to +come home to her! How good it is then when the night falls! How richly +the evening passes! And then, for her, at last, all that she has lost +during the day to have it again between her arms, all that she has +missed, to have it poured out for her, and a richness and a wonder she +had never expected. It is her hour, her goal. That's what it is to +have a wife.</p> + +<p>Ah, how good it is to come home to your wife when she <i>believes</i> in +you and submits to your<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span> purpose that is beyond her. Then, how +wonderful this nightfall is! How rich you feel, tired, with all the +burden of the day in your veins, turning home! Then you too turn to +your other goal: to the splendor of darkness between her arms. And you +know the goal is there for you: how rich that feeling is. And you feel +an unfathomable gratitude to the woman who loves you and believes in +your purpose and receives you into the magnificent dark gratification +of her embrace. That's what it is to have a wife.</p> + +<p>But no man ever had a wife unless he served a great predominant +purpose. Otherwise, he has a lover, a mistress. No matter how much she +may be married to him, unless his days have a living purpose, +constructive or destructive, but a purpose beyond her and all she +stands for; unless his days have this purpose, and his soul is really +committed to his purpose, she will not be a wife, she will be only a +mistress and he will be her lover.</p> + +<p>If the man has no purpose for his days, then to the woman alone +remains the goal of her nights: the great sex goal. And this goal is +no goal, but always cries for the something beyond: for the rising in +the morning and the going forth beyond, the man disappearing ahead +into the dis<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span>tance of futurity, that which his purpose stands for, the +future. The sex goal needs, absolutely needs, this further departure. +And if there <i>be</i> no further departure, no great way of belief on +ahead: and if sex is the starting point and the goal as well: then sex +becomes like the bottomless pit, insatiable. It demands at last the +departure into death, the only available beyond. Like Carmen, or like +Anna Karenina. When sex is the starting point and the returning point +both, then the only issue is death. Which is plain as a pike-staff in +"Carmen" or "Anna Karenina," and is the theme of almost <i>all</i> modern +tragedy. Our one hackneyed, hackneyed theme. Ecstasies and agonies of +love, and final passion of death. Death is the only pure, beautiful +conclusion of a great passion. Lovers, pure lovers should say "Let it +be so."</p> + +<p>And one is always tempted to say "Let it be so." But no, let it be not +so. Only I say this, let it be a great passion and then death, rather +than a false or faked purpose. Tolstoi said "No" to the passion and +the death conclusion. And then drew into the dreary issue of a false +conclusion. His books were better than his life. Better the woman's +goal, sex and death, than some <i>false</i> goal of man's.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span></p> + +<p>Better Anna Karenina and Vronsky a thousand times than Natasha and +that porpoise of a Pierre. This pretty, slightly sordid couple tried +so hard to kid themselves that the porpoise Pierre was puffing with +great purpose. Better Vronsky than Tolstoi himself, in my mind. Better +Vronsky's final statement: "As a soldier I am still some good. As a +man I am a ruin"—better that than Tolstoi and Tolstoi-ism and that +beastly peasant blouse the old man wore.</p> + +<p>Better passion and death than any more of these "isms." No more of the +old purpose done up in aspic. Better passion and death.</p> + +<p>But still—we <i>might</i> live, mightn't we?</p> + +<p>For heaven's sake answer plainly "No," if you feel like it. No good +temporizing.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="EPILOGUE" id="EPILOGUE"></a>EPILOGUE</h2> + + +<p>"<i>Tutti i salmi finiscono in gloria.</i>"</p> + +<p>All the psalms wind up with the Gloria.—"As it was in the beginning, +is now, and ever shall be, World without end. Amen."</p> + +<p>Well, then, Amen.</p> + +<p>I hope you say Amen! along with me, dear little reader: if there be +any dear little reader who has got so far. If not, I say Amen! all by +myself.—But don't you think the show is all over. I've got another +volume up my sleeve, and after a year or two years, when I have shaken +it down my sleeve, I shall bring it and lay it at the foot of your +Liberty statue, oh Columbia, as I do this one.</p> + +<p>I suppose Columbia means the States.—"Hail Columbia!"—I suppose, +etymologically, it is a nest of turtle-doves, Lat. <i>columba</i>, a dove. +Coo me softly, then, Columbia; don't roar me like the sucking doves of +the critics of my "Psychoanalysis and the Unconscious."</p> + +<p>And when I lay this little book at the foot of the Liberty statue, +that brawny lady is not to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span> look down her nose and bawl: "Do you see +any green in my eye?" Of course I don't, dear lady. I only see the +reflection of that torch—or is it a carrot?—which you are holding up +to light the way into New York harbor. Well, many an ass has strayed +across the uneasy paddock of the Atlantic, to nibble your carrot, dear +lady. And I must say, you can keep on slicing off nice little +carrot-slices of guineas and doubloons for an extraordinarily +inexhaustible long time. And innumerable asses can collect themselves +nice little heaps of golden carrot-slices, and then lift up their +heads and brag over them with fairly pan-demoniac yells of +gratification. Of course I don't see any green in your eye, dear +Libertas, unless it is the smallest glint from the carrot-tips. The +gleam in your eye is golden, oh Columbia!</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, and in spite of all this, up trots this here little ass +and makes you a nice present of this pretty book. You needn't sniff, +and glance at your carrot-sceptre, lady Liberty. You needn't throw +down the thinnest carrot-paring you can pare off, and then say: "Why +should I pay for this tripe, this wordy mass of rather revolting +nonsense!" You can't pay for it, darling. If I didn't make you a +present of it you could never buy it. So don't shake your +carrot-sceptre and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span> feel supercilious. Here's a gift for you, Missis. +You can look in its mouth, too. Mind it doesn't bite you.—No, you +needn't bother to put your carrot behind your back, nobody wants to +snatch it.</p> + +<p>How do you do, Columbia! Look, I brought you a posy: this nice little +posy of words and wisdom which I made for you in the woods of +Ebersteinburg, on the borders of the Black Forest, near Baden Baden, +in Germany, in this summer of scanty grace but nice weather. I made it +specially for you—Whitman, for whom I have an immense regard, says +"These States." I suppose I ought to say: "Those States." If the +publisher would let me, I'd dedicate this book to you, to "Those +States." Because I wrote this book entirely for you, Columbia. You may +not take it as a compliment. You may even smell a tiny bit of +Schwarzwald sap in it, and be finally disgusted. I admit that trees +ought to think twice before they flourish in such a disgraced place as +the Fatherland. "<i>Chi va coi zoppi, all' anno zoppica.</i>" But you've +not only to gather ye rosebuds while ye may, but <i>where</i> ye may. And +so, as I said before, the Black Forest, etc.</p> + +<p>I know, Columbia, dear Libertas, you'll take my posy and put your +carrot aside for a minute,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span> and smile, and say: "I'm sure, Mr. +Lawrence, it is a <i>long</i> time since I had such a perfectly beautiful +bunch of ideas brought me." And I shall blush and look sheepish and +say: "So glad you think so. I believe you'll find they'll keep fresh +quite a long time, if you put them in water." Whereupon you, Columbia, +with real American gallantry: "Oh, they'll keep for <i>ever</i>, Mr. +Lawrence. They <i>couldn't</i> be so cruel as to go and die, such perfectly +lovely-colored ideas. Lovely! Thank you ever, ever so much."</p> + +<p>Just think of it, Columbia, how pleased we shall be with one another: +and how much nicer it will be than if you snorted "High-falutin' +Nonsense"—or "Wordy mass of repulsive rubbish."</p> + +<p>When they were busy making Italy, and were just going to put it in +the oven to bake: that is, when Garibaldi and Vittorio Emmanuele had +won their victories at Caserta, Naples prepared to give them a +triumphant entry. So there sat the little king in his carriage: he had +short legs and huge swagger mustaches and a very big bump of +philoprogeniture. The town was all done up, in spite of the rain. And +down either side of the wide street were hasty statues of large, +well-fleshed ladies, each one holding up a fore-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span>finger. We don't know +what the king thought. But the staff held their breath. The king's +appetite for strapping ladies was more than notorious, and naturally +it looked as if Naples had done it on purpose.</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact, the fore-finger meant <i>Italia Una</i>! "Italy shall +be one." Ask Don Sturzo.</p> + +<p>Now you see how risky statues are. How many nice little asses and +poets trot over the Atlantic and catch sight of Liberty holding up +this carrot of desire at arm's length, and fairly hear her say, as one +does to one's pug dog, with a lump of sugar: "Beg! Beg!"—and "Jump! +Jump, then!" And each little ass and poodle begins to beg and to jump, +and there's a rare game round about Liberty, zap, zap, zapperty-zap!</p> + +<p>Do lower the carrot, gentle Liberty, and let us talk nicely and +sensibly. I don't like you as a <i>carotaia</i>, precious.</p> + +<p>Talking about the moon, it is thrilling to read the announcements of +Professor Pickering of Harvard, that it's almost a dead cert that +there's life on our satellite. It is almost as certain that there's +life on the moon as it is certain there is life on Mars. The professor +bases his assertions on photographs—hundreds of photographs—of a +crater with a circumference of thirty-seven<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span> miles. I'm not satisfied. +I demand to know the yards, feet and inches. You don't come it over me +with the triteness of these round numbers.</p> + +<p>"Hundreds of photographic reproductions have proved irrefutably the +springing up at dawn, with an unbelievable rapidity, of vast fields of +foliage which come into blossom just as rapidly (sic!) and which +disappear in a maximum period of eleven days."—Again I'm not +satisfied. I want to know if they're cabbages, cress, mustard, or +marigolds or dandelions or daisies. Fields of foliage, mark you. And +<i>blossom</i>! Come now, if you can get so far, Professor Pickering, you +might have a shrewd guess as to whether the blossoms are good to eat, +or if they're purely for ornament.</p> + +<p>I am only waiting at last for an aeroplane to land on one of these +fields of foliage and find a donkey grazing peacefully. Hee-haw!</p> + +<p>"The plates moreover show that great blizzards, snow-storms, and +volcanic eruptions are also frequent." So no doubt the blossoms are +edelweiss.</p> + +<p>"We find," says the professor, "a living world at our very doors where +life in some respects resembles that of Mars." All I can say is: +"Pray<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span> come in, Mr. Moony. And how is your cousin Signor Martian?"</p> + +<p>Now I'm sure Professor Pickering's photographs and observations are +really wonderful. But his <i>explanations</i>! Come now, Columbia, where is +your High-falutin' Nonsense trumpet? Vast fields of foliage which +spring up at dawn (!!!) and come into blossom just as quickly (!!!!) +are rather too flowery even for my flowery soul. But there, truth is +stranger than fiction.</p> + +<p>I'll bet my moon against the Professor's, anyhow.</p> + +<p>So long, Columbia. <i>A riverderci.</i></p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FANTASIA OF THE UNCONSCIOUS***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 20654-h.txt or 20654-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/0/6/5/20654">http://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/6/5/20654</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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H. Lawrence + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Fantasia of the Unconscious + + +Author: D. H. Lawrence + + + +Release Date: February 24, 2007 [eBook #20654] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FANTASIA OF THE UNCONSCIOUS*** + + +E-text prepared by Michael Ciesielski, Sankar Viswanathan, and the Project +Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net/c/) + + + +FANTASIA OF THE UNCONSCIOUS + +by + +D. H. LAWRENCE + + + + + + + +New York +Thomas Seltzer +1922 +Copyright, 1922, by +Thomas Seltzer, Inc. + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER + + FOREWORD + + I. INTRODUCTION + + II. THE HOLY FAMILY + + III. PLEXUSES, PLANES AND SO ON + + IV. TREES AND BABIES AND PAPAS AND MAMAS + + V. THE FIVE SENSES + + VI. FIRST GLIMMERINGS OF MIND + + VII. FIRST STEPS IN EDUCATION + + VIII. EDUCATION AND SEX IN MAN, WOMAN AND CHILD + + IX. THE BIRTH OF SEX + + X. PARENT LOVE + + XI. THE VICIOUS CIRCLE + + XII. LITANY OF EXHORTATIONS + + XIII. COSMOLOGICAL + + XIV. SLEEP AND DREAMS + + XV. THE LOWER SELF + + EPILOGUE + + + + + +FOREWORD + + +The present book is a continuation from "Psychoanalysis and the +Unconscious." The generality of readers had better just leave it +alone. The generality of critics likewise. I really don't want to +convince anybody. It is quite in opposition to my whole nature. I +don't intend my books for the generality of readers. I count it a +mistake of our mistaken democracy, that every man who can read print +is allowed to believe that he can read all that is printed. I count it +a misfortune that serious books are exposed in the public market, like +slaves exposed naked for sale. But there we are, since we live in an +age of mistaken democracy, we must go through with it. + +I warn the generality of readers, that this present book will seem to +them only a rather more revolting mass of wordy nonsense than the +last. I would warn the generality of critics to throw it in the waste +paper basket without more ado. + +As for the limited few, in whom one must perforce find an answerer, I +may as well say straight off that I stick to the solar plexus. That +statement alone, I hope, will thin their numbers considerably. + +Finally, to the remnants of a remainder, in order to apologize for the +sudden lurch into cosmology, or cosmogony, in this book, I wish to say +that the whole thing hangs inevitably together. I am not a scientist. +I am an amateur of amateurs. As one of my critics said, you either +believe or you don't. + +I am not a proper archaeologist nor an anthropologist nor an +ethnologist. I am no "scholar" of any sort. But I am very grateful to +scholars for their sound work. I have found hints, suggestions for +what I say here in all kinds of scholarly books, from the Yoga and +Plato and St. John the Evangel and the early Greek philosophers like +Herakleitos down to Fraser and his "Golden Bough," and even Freud and +Frobenius. Even then I only remember hints--and I proceed by +intuition. This leaves you quite free to dismiss the whole wordy mass +of revolting nonsense, without a qualm. + +Only let me say, that to my mind there is a great field of science +which is as yet quite closed to us. I refer to the science which +proceeds in terms of life and is established on data of living +experience and of sure intuition. Call it subjective science if you +like. Our objective science of modern knowledge concerns itself only +with phenomena, and with phenomena as regarded in their +cause-and-effect relationship. I have nothing to say against our +science. It is perfect as far as it goes. But to regard it as +exhausting the whole scope of human possibility in knowledge seems to +me just puerile. Our science is a science of the dead world. Even +biology never considers life, but only mechanistic functioning and +apparatus of life. + +I honestly think that the great pagan world of which Egypt and Greece +were the last living terms, the great pagan world which preceded our +own era once, had a vast and perhaps perfect science of its own, a +science in terms of life. In our era this science crumbled into magic +and charlatanry. But even wisdom crumbles. + +I believe that this great science previous to ours and quite different +in constitution and nature from our science once was universal, +established all over the then-existing globe. I believe it was +esoteric, invested in a large priesthood. Just as mathematics and +mechanics and physics are defined and expounded in the same way in +the universities of China or Bolivia or London or Moscow to-day, so, +it seems to me, in the great world previous to ours a great science +and cosmology were taught esoterically in all countries of the globe, +Asia, Polynesia, America, Atlantis and Europe. Belt's suggestion of +the geographical nature of this previous world seems to me most +interesting. In the period which geologists call the Glacial Period, +the waters of the earth must have been gathered up in a vast body on +the higher places of our globe, vast worlds of ice. And the sea-beds +of to-day must have been comparatively dry. So that the Azores rose up +mountainous from the plain of Atlantis, where the Atlantic now washes, +and the Easter Isles and the Marquesas and the rest rose lofty from +the marvelous great continent of the Pacific. + +In that world men lived and taught and knew, and were in one complete +correspondence over all the earth. Men wandered back and forth from +Atlantis to the Polynesian Continent as men now sail from Europe to +America. The interchange was complete, and knowledge, science was +universal over the earth, cosmopolitan as it is to-day. + +Then came the melting of the glaciers, and the world flood. The +refugees from the drowned continents fled to the high places of +America, Europe, Asia, and the Pacific Isles. And some degenerated +naturally into cave men, neolithic and paleolithic creatures, and some +retained their marvelous innate beauty and life-perfection, as the +South Sea Islanders, and some wandered savage in Africa, and some, +like Druids or Etruscans or Chaldeans or Amerindians or Chinese, +refused to forget, but taught the old wisdom, only in its +half-forgotten, symbolic forms. More or less forgotten, as knowledge: +remembered as ritual, gesture, and myth-story. + +And so, the intense potency of symbols is part at least memory. And so +it is that all the great symbols and myths which dominate the world +when our history first begins, are very much the same in every country +and every people, the great myths all relate to one another. And so it +is that these myths now begin to hypnotize us again, our own impulse +towards our own scientific way of understanding being almost spent. +And so, besides myths, we find the same mathematic figures, cosmic +graphs which remain among the aboriginal peoples in all continents, +mystic figures and signs whose true cosmic or scientific significance +is lost, yet which continue in use for purposes of conjuring or +divining. + +If my reader finds this bosh and abracadabra, all right for him. Only +I have no more regard for his little crowings on his own little +dunghill. Myself, I am not so sure that I am one of the +one-and-onlies. I like the wide world of centuries and vast +ages--mammoth worlds beyond our day, and mankind so wonderful in his +distances, his history that has no beginning yet always the pomp and +the magnificence of human splendor unfolding through the earth's +changing periods. Floods and fire and convulsions and ice-arrest +intervene between the great glamorous civilizations of mankind. But +nothing will ever quench humanity and the human potentiality to evolve +something magnificent out of a renewed chaos. + +I do not believe in evolution, but in the strangeness and +rainbow-change of ever-renewed creative civilizations. + +So much, then, for my claim to remarkable discoveries. I believe I am +only trying to stammer out the first terms of a forgotten knowledge. +But I have no desire to revive dead kings, or dead sages. It is not +for me to arrange fossils, and decipher hieroglyphic phrases. I +couldn't do it if I wanted to. But then I can do something else. The +soul must take the hint from the relics our scientists have so +marvelously gathered out of the forgotten past, and from the hint +develop a new living utterance. The spark is from dead wisdom, but the +fire is life. + +And as an example--a very simple one--of how a scientist of the most +innocent modern sort may hint at truths which, when stated, he would +laugh at as fantastic nonsense, let us quote a word from the already +old-fashioned "Golden Bough." "It must have appeared to the ancient +Aryan that the sun was periodically recruited from the fire which +resided in the sacred oak." + +Exactly. The fire which resided in the Tree of Life. That is, life +itself. So we must read: "It must have appeared to the ancient Aryan +that the sun was periodically recruited from life."--Which is what the +early Greek philosophers were always saying. And which still seems to +me the real truth, the clue to the cosmos. Instead of life being drawn +from the sun, it is the emanation from life itself, that is, from all +the living plants and creatures which nourish the sun. + +Of course, my dear critic, the ancient Aryans were just doddering--the +old duffers: or babbling, the babes. But as for me, I have some +respect for my ancestors, and believe they had more up their sleeve +than just the marvel of the unborn me. + +One last weary little word. This pseudo-philosophy of +mine--"pollyanalytics," as one of my respected critics might say--is +deduced from the novels and poems, not the reverse. The novels and poems +come unwatched out of one's pen. And then the absolute need which one has +for some sort of satisfactory mental attitude towards oneself and things in +general makes one try to abstract some definite conclusions from one's +experiences as a writer and as a man. The novels and poems are pure +passionate experience. These "pollyanalytics" are inferences made +afterwards, from the experience. + +And finally, it seems to me that even art is utterly dependent on +philosophy: or if you prefer it, on a metaphysic. The metaphysic or +philosophy may not be anywhere very accurately stated and may be quite +unconscious, in the artist, yet it is a metaphysic that governs men at +the time, and is by all men more or less comprehended, and lived. Men +live and see according to some gradually developing and gradually +withering vision. This vision exists also as a dynamic idea or +metaphysic--exists first as such. Then it is unfolded into life and +art. Our vision, our belief, our metaphysic is wearing woefully thin, +and the art is wearing absolutely threadbare. We have no future; +neither for our hopes nor our aims nor our art. It has all gone gray +and opaque. + +We've got to rip the old veil of a vision across, and find what the +heart really believes in, after all: and what the heart really wants, +for the next future. And we've got to put it down in terms of belief +and of knowledge. And then go forward again, to the fulfillment in +life and art. + +Rip the veil of the old vision across, and walk through the rent. And +if I try to do this--well, why not? If I try to write down what I +see--why not? If a publisher likes to print the book--all right. And +if anybody wants to read it, let him. But why anybody should read one +single word if he doesn't want to, I don't see. Unless of course he is +a critic who needs to scribble a dollar's worth of words, no matter +how. + +TAORMINA + +October 8, 1921 + + + + +FANTASIA OF THE UNCONSCIOUS + +CHAPTER I + +INTRODUCTION + + +Let us start by making a little apology to Psychoanalysis. It wasn't +fair to jeer at the psychoanalytic unconscious; or perhaps it _was_ +fair to jeer at the psychoanalytic unconscious, which is truly a +negative quantity and an unpleasant menagerie. What was really not +fair was to jeer at Psychoanalysis as if Freud had invented and +described nothing but an unconscious, in all his theory. + +The unconscious is not, of course, the clue to the Freudian theory. +The real clue is sex. A sexual motive is to be attributed to all human +activity. + +Now this is going too far. We are bound to admit than an element of +sex enters into all human activity. But so does an element of greed, +and of many other things. We are bound to admit that into all human +relationships, particularly adult human relationships, a large +element of sex enters. We are thankful that Freud has insisted on +this. We are thankful that Freud pulled us somewhat to earth, out of +all our clouds of superfineness. What Freud says is always _partly_ +true. And half a loaf is better than no bread. + +But really, there is the other half of the loaf. All is _not_ sex. And +a sexual motive is _not_ to be attributed to all human activities. We +know it, without need to argue. + +Sex surely has a specific meaning. Sex means the being divided into +male and female; and the magnetic desire or impulse which puts male +apart from female, in a negative or sundering magnetism, but which +also draws male and female together in a long and infinitely varied +approach towards the critical act of coition. Sex without the +consummating act of coition is never quite sex, in human +relationships: just as a eunuch is never quite a man. That is to say, +the act of coition is the essential clue to sex. + +Now does all life work up to the one consummating act of coition? In +one direction, it does, and it would be better if psychoanalysis +plainly said so. In one direction, all life works up to the one +supreme moment of coition. Let us all admit it, sincerely. + +But we are not confined to one direction only, or to one exclusive +consummation. Was the building of the cathedrals a working up towards +the act of coition? Was the dynamic impulse sexual? No. The sexual +element was present, and important. But not predominant. The same in +the building of the Panama Canal. The sexual impulse, in its widest +form, was a very great impulse towards the building of the Panama +Canal. But there was something else, of even higher importance, and +greater dynamic power. + +And what is this other, greater impulse? It is the desire of the human +male to build a world: not "to build a world for you, dear"; but to +build up out of his own self and his own belief and his own effort +something wonderful. Not merely something useful. Something wonderful. +Even the Panama Canal would never have been built _simply_ to let +ships through. It is the pure disinterested craving of the human male +to make something wonderful, out of his own head and his own self, and +his own soul's faith and delight, which starts everything going. This +is the prime motivity. And the motivity of sex is subsidiary to this: +often directly antagonistic. + +That is, the essentially religious or creative motive is the first +motive for all human activity. The sexual motive comes second. And +there is a great conflict between the interests of the two, at all +times. + +What we want to do, is to trace the creative or religious motive to +its source in the human being, keeping in mind always the near +relationship between the religious motive and the sexual. The two +great impulses are like man and wife, or father and son. It is no use +putting one under the feet of the other. + +The great desire to-day is to deny the religious impulse altogether, +or else to assert its absolute alienity from the sexual impulse. The +orthodox religious world says faugh! to sex. Whereupon we thank Freud +for giving them tit for tat. But the orthodox scientific world says +fie! to the religious impulse. The scientist wants to discover a cause +for everything. And there is no cause for the religious impulse. Freud +is with the scientists. Jung dodges from his university gown into a +priest's surplice till we don't know where we are. We prefer Freud's +_Sex_ to Jung's _Libido_ or Bergson's _Elan Vital_. Sex has at least +_some_ definite reference, though when Freud makes sex accountable for +everything he as good as makes it accountable for nothing. + +We refuse any _Cause_, whether it be Sex or Libido or Elan Vital or +ether or unit of force or _perpetuum mobile_ or anything else. But +also we feel that we cannot, like Moses, perish on the top of our +present ideal Pisgah, or take the next step into thin air. There we +are, at the top of our Pisgah of ideals, crying _Excelsior_ and trying +to clamber up into the clouds: that is, if we are idealists with the +religious impulse rampant in our breasts. If we are scientists we +practice aeroplane flying or eugenics or disarmament or something +equally absurd. + +The promised land, if it be anywhere, lies away beneath our feet. No +more prancing upwards. No more uplift. No more little Excelsiors +crying world-brotherhood and international love and Leagues of +Nations. Idealism and materialism amount to the same thing on top of +Pisgah, and the space is _very_ crowded. We're all cornered on our +mountain top, climbing up one another and standing on one another's +faces in our scream of Excelsior. + +To your tents, O Israel! Brethren, let us go down. We will descend. +The way to our precious Canaan lies obviously downhill. An end of +uplift. Downhill to the land of milk and honey. The blood will soon be +flowing faster than either, but we can't help that. We can't help it +if Canaan has blood in its veins, instead of pure milk and honey. + +If it is a question of origins, the origin is always the same, +whatever we say about it. So is the cause. Let that be a comfort to +us. If we want to talk about God, well, we can please ourselves. God +has been talked about quite a lot, and He doesn't seem to mind. Why we +should take it so personally is a problem. Likewise if we wish to have +a tea party with the atom, let us: or with the wriggling little unit +of energy, or the ether, or the Libido, or the Elan Vital, or any +other Cause. Only don't let us have sex for tea. We've all got too +much of it under the table; and really, for my part, I prefer to keep +mine there, no matter what the Freudians say about me. + +But it is tiring to go to any more tea parties with the Origin, or the +Cause, or even the Lord. Let us pronounce the mystic Om, from the pit +of the stomach, and proceed. + +There's not a shadow of doubt about it, the First Cause is just +unknowable to us, and we'd be sorry if it wasn't. Whether it's God or +the Atom. All I say is Om! + +The first business of every faith is to declare its ignorance. I don't +know where I come from--nor where I exit to. I don't know the origins +of life nor the goal of death. I don't know how the two parent cells +which are my biological origin became the me which I am. I don't in +the least know what those two parent cells were. The chemical analysis +is just a farce, and my father and mother were just vehicles. And yet, +I must say, since I've got to know about the two cells, I'm glad I do +know. + +The Moses of Science and the Aaron of Idealism have got the whole +bunch of us here on top of Pisgah. It's a tight squeeze, and we'll be +falling very, very foul of one another in five minutes, unless some of +us climb down. But before leaving our eminence let us have a look +round, and get our bearings. + +They say that way lies the New Jerusalem of universal love: and over +there the happy valley of indulgent Pragmatism: and there, quite near, is +the chirpy land of the Vitalists: and in those dark groves the home of +successful Analysis, surnamed Psycho: and over those blue hills the +Supermen are prancing about, though you can't see them. And there is +Besantheim, and there is Eddyhowe, and there, on that queer little +tableland, is Wilsonia, and just round the corner is Rabindranathopolis.... + +But Lord, I can't see anything. Help me, heaven, to a telescope, for I +see blank nothing. + +I'm not going to try any more. I'm going to sit down on my posterior +and sluther full speed down this Pisgah, even if it cost me my trouser +seat. So ho!--away we go. + +In the beginning--there never was any beginning, but let it pass. +We've got to make a start somehow. In the very beginning of all +things, time and space and cosmos and being, in the beginning of all +these was a little living creature. But I don't know even if it was +little. In the beginning was a living creature, its plasm quivering +and its life-pulse throbbing. This little creature died, as little +creatures always do. But not before it had had young ones. When the +daddy creature died, it fell to pieces. And that was the beginning of +the cosmos. Its little body fell down to a speck of dust, which the +young ones clung to because they must cling to something. Its little +breath flew asunder, the hotness and brightness of the little beast--I +beg your pardon, I mean the radiant energy from the corpse flew away +to the right hand, and seemed to shine warm in the air, while the +clammy energy from the body flew away to the left hand, and seemed +dark and cold. And so, the first little master was dead and done for, +and instead of his little living body there was a speck of dust in the +middle, which became the earth, and on the right hand was a brightness +which became the sun, rampaging with all the energy that had come out +of the dead little master, and on the left hand a darkness which felt +like an unrisen moon. And that was how the Lord created the world. +Except that I know nothing about the Lord, so I shouldn't mention it. + +But I forgot the soul of the little master. It probably did a bit of +flying as well--and then came back to the young ones. It seems most +natural that way. + +Which is my account of the Creation. And I mean by it, that Life is +not and never was anything but living creatures. That's what life is +and will be just living creatures, no matter how large you make the +capital L. Out of living creatures the material cosmos was made: out +of the death of living creatures, when their little living bodies fell +dead and fell asunder into all sorts of matter and forces and +energies, sun, moons, stars and worlds. So you got the universe. Where +you got the living creature from, that first one, don't ask me. He was +just there. But he was a little person with a soul of his own. He +wasn't Life with a capital L. + +If you don't believe me, then don't. I'll even give you a little song +to sing. + + "If it be not true to me + What care I how true it be . ." + +That's the kind of man I really like, chirping his insouciance. And I +chirp back: + + "Though it be not true to thee + It's gay and gospel truth to me. . ." + +The living live, and then die. They pass away, as we know, to dust and +to oxygen and nitrogen and so on. But what we don't know, and what we +might perhaps know a little more, is how they pass away direct into +life itself--that is, direct into the living. That is, how many dead +souls fly over our untidiness like swallows and build under the eaves +of the living. How many dead souls, like swallows, twitter and breed +thoughts and instincts under the thatch of my hair and the eaves of my +forehead, I don't know. But I believe a good many. And I hope they +have a good time. And I hope not too many are bats. + +I am sorry to say I believe in the souls of the dead. I am almost +ashamed to say, that I believe the souls of the dead in some way +reenter and pervade the souls of the living: so that life is always +the life of living creatures, and death is always our affair. This +bit, I admit, is bordering on mysticism. I'm sorry, because I don't +like mysticism. It has no trousers and no trousers seat: _n'a pas de +quoi_. And I should feel so uncomfortable if I put my hand behind me +and felt an absolute blank. + +Meanwhile a long, thin, brown caterpillar keeps on pretending to be a +dead thin beech-twig, on a little bough at my feet. He had got his +hind feet and his fore feet on the twig, and his body looped up like +an arch in the air between, when a fly walked up the twig and began to +mount the arch of the imitator, not having the least idea that it was +on a gentleman's coat-tails. The caterpillar shook his stern, and the +fly made off as if it had seen a ghost. The dead twig and the live +twig now remain equally motionless, enjoying their different ways. And +when, with this very pencil, I push the head of the caterpillar off +from the twig, he remains on his tail, arched forward in air, and +oscillating unhappily, like some tiny pendulum ticking. Ticking, +ticking in mid-air, arched away from his planted tail. Till at last, +after a long minute and a half, he touches the twig again, and +subsides into twigginess. The only thing is, the dead beech-twig can't +pretend to be a wagging caterpillar. Yet how the two commune! +However--we have our exits and our entrances, and one man in his time +plays many parts. More than he dreams of, poor darling. And I am +entirely at a loss for a moral! + +Well, then, we are born. I suppose that's a safe statement. And we +become at once conscious, if we weren't so before. _Nem con._ And our +little baby body is a little functioning organism, a little developing +machine or instrument or organ, and our little baby mind begins to +stir with all our wonderful psychical beginnings. And so we are in +bud. + +But it won't do. It is too much of a Pisgah sight. We overlook too +much. _Descendez, cher Moise. Vous voyez trop loin._ You see too far +all at once, dear Moses. Too much of a bird's-eye view across the +Promised Land to the shore. Come down, and walk across, old fellow. +And you won't see all that milk and honey and grapes the size of +duck's eggs. All the dear little budding infant with its tender +virginal mind and various clouds of glory instead of a napkin. Not at +all, my dear chap. No such luck of a promised land. + +Climb down, Pisgah, and go to Jericho. _Allons_, there is no road yet, +but we are all Aarons with rods of our own. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE HOLY FAMILY + + +We are all very pleased with Mr. Einstein for knocking that eternal +axis out of the universe. The universe isn't a spinning wheel. It is a +cloud of bees flying and veering round. Thank goodness for that, for +we were getting drunk on the spinning wheel. + +So that now the universe has escaped from the pin which was pushed +through it, like an impaled fly vainly buzzing: now that the multiple +universe flies its own complicated course quite free, and hasn't got +any hub, we can hope also to escape. + +We won't be pinned down, either. We have no one law that governs us. +For me there is only one law: _I am I._ And that isn't a law, it's +just a remark. One is one, but one is not all alone. There are other +stars buzzing in the center of their own isolation. And there is no +straight path between them. There is no straight path between you and +me, dear reader, so don't blame me if my words fly like dust into +your eyes and grit between your teeth, instead of like music into your +ears. I am I, but also you are you, and we are in sad need of a theory +of human relativity. We need it much more than the universe does. The +stars know how to prowl round one another without much damage done. +But you and I, dear reader, in the first conviction that you are me +and that I am you, owing to the oneness of mankind, why, we are always +falling foul of one another, and chewing each other's fur. + +You are _not_ me, dear reader, so make no pretentions to it. Don't get +alarmed if _I_ say things. It isn't your sacred mouth which is opening +and shutting. As for the profanation of your sacred ears, just apply a +little theory of relativity, and realize that what I say is not what +you hear, but something uttered in the midst of my isolation, and +arriving strangely changed and travel-worn down the long curve of your +own individual circumambient atmosphere. I may say Bob, but heaven +alone knows what the goose hears. And you may be sure that a red rag +is, to a bull, something far more mysterious and complicated than a +socialist's necktie. + +So I hope now I have put you in your place, dear reader. Sit you like +Watts' Hope on your own little blue globe, and I'll sit on mine, and +we won't bump into one another if we can help it. You can twang your +old hopeful lyre. It may be music to you, so I don't blame you. It is +a terrible wowing in my ears. But that may be something in my +individual atmosphere; some strange deflection as your music crosses +the space between us. Certainly I never hear the concert of World +Regeneration and Hope Revived Again without getting a sort of +lock-jaw, my teeth go so keen on edge from the twanging harmony. +Still, the world-regenerators may _really_ be quite excellent +performers on their own jews'-harps. Blame the edginess of my teeth. + +Now I am going to launch words into space so mind your cosmic eye. + +As I said in my small but naturally immortal book, "Psychoanalysis and +the Unconscious," there's more in it than meets the eye. There's more +in you, dear reader, than meets the eye. What, don't you believe it? +Do you think you're as obvious as a poached egg on a piece of toast, +like the poor lunatic? Not a bit of it, dear reader. You've got a +solar plexus, and a lumbar ganglion not far from your liver, and I'm +going to tell everybody. Nothing brings a man home to himself like +telling everybody. And I _will_ drive you home to yourself, do you +hear? You've been poaching in my private atmospheric grounds long +enough, identifying yourself with me and me with everybody. A nice row +there'd be in heaven if Aldebaran caught Sirius by the tail and said, +"Look here, you're not to look so green, you damm dog-star! It's an +offense against star-regulations." + +Which reminds me that the Arabs say the shooting stars, meteorites, +are starry stones which the angels fling at the poaching demons whom +they catch sight of prowling too near the palisades of heaven. I must +say I like Arab angels. My heaven would coruscate like a catherine +wheel, with white-hot star-stones. Away, you dog, you prowling +cur.--Got him under the left ear-hole, Gabriel--! See him, see him, +Michael? That hopeful blue devil! Land him one! Biff on your bottom, +you hoper. + +But I wish the Arabs wouldn't entice me, or you, dear reader, provoke +me to this. I feel with you, dear reader, as I do with a deaf-man when +he pushes his vulcanite ear, his listening machine, towards my mouth. +I want to shout down the telephone ear-hole all kinds of improper +things, to see what effect they will have on the stupid dear face at +the end of the coil of wire. After all, words must be very different +after they've trickled round and round a long wire coil. Whatever +becomes of them! And I, who am a bit deaf myself, and may in the end +have a deaf-machine to poke at my friends, it ill becomes me to be so +unkind, yet that's how I feel. So there we are. + +Help me to be serious, dear reader. + +In that little book, "Psychoanalysis and the Unconscious," I tried +rather wistfully to convince you, dear reader, that you had a solar +plexus and a lumbar ganglion and a few other things. I don't know why +I took the trouble. If a fellow doesn't believe he's got a nose, the +best way to convince him is gently to waft a little pepper into his +nostrils. And there was I painting my own nose purple, and wistfully +inviting you to look and believe. No more, though. + +You've got first and foremost a solar plexus, dear reader; and the +solar plexus is a great nerve center which lies behind your stomach. I +can't be accused of impropriety or untruth, because any book of +science or medicine which deals with the nerve-system of the human +body will show it to you quite plainly. So don't wriggle or try to +look spiritual. Because, willy-nilly, you've got a solar plexus, dear +reader, among other things. I'm writing a good sound science book, +which there's no gainsaying. + +Now, your solar plexus, most gentle of readers, is where you are you. +It is your first and greatest and deepest center of consciousness. If +you want to know _how_ conscious and _when_ conscious, I must refer +you to that little book, "Psychoanalysis and the Unconscious." + +At your solar plexus you are primarily conscious: there, behind you +stomach. There you have the profound and pristine conscious awareness +that you are you. Don't say you haven't. I know you have. You might as +well try to deny the nose on your face. There is your first and +deepest seat of awareness. There you are triumphantly aware of your +own individual existence in the universe. Absolutely there is the keep +and central stronghold of your triumphantly-conscious self. There you +_are_, and you know it. So stick out your tummy gaily, my dear, with a +_Me voila_. With a _Here I am!_ With an _Ecco mi!_ With a _Da bin +ich!_ There you are, dearie. + +But not only a triumphant awareness that _There you are_. An exultant +awareness also that outside this quiet gate, this navel, lies a whole +universe on which you can lay tribute. Aha--at birth you closed the +central gate for ever. Too dangerous to leave it open. Too near the +quick. But there are other gates. There are eyes and mouths and ears +and nostrils, besides the two lower gates of the passionate body, and +the closed but not locked gates of the breasts. Many gates. And +besides the actual gates, the marvelous wireless communication between +the great center and the surrounding or contiguous world. + +Authorized science tells you that this first great plexus, this +all-potent nerve-center of consciousness and dynamic life-activity is +a sympathetic center. From the solar plexus as from your castle-keep +you look around and see the fair lands smiling, the corn and fruit and +cattle of your increase, the cottages of your dependents and the halls +of your beloveds. From the solar plexus you know that all the world is +yours, and all is goodly. + +This is the great center, where in the womb, your life first sparkled +in individuality. This is the center that drew the gestating maternal +blood-stream upon you, in the nine-months lurking, drew it on you for +your increase. This is the center whence the navel-string broke, but +where the invisible string of dynamic consciousness, like a dark +electric current connecting you with the rest of life, will never +break until you die and depart from corporate individuality. + +They say, by the way, that doctors now perform a little operation on +the born baby, so that no more navel shows. No more belly-buttons, +dear reader! Lucky I caught you this generation, before the doctors +had saved your appearances. Yet, _caro mio_, whether it shows or not, +there you once had immediate connection with the maternal +blood-stream. And, because the male nucleus which derived from the +father still lies sparkling and potent within the solar plexus, +therefore that great nerve-center of you, still has immediate +knowledge of your father, a subtler but still vital connection. We +call it the tie of blood. So be it. It is a tie of blood. But much +more definite than we imagine. For true it is that the one bright male +germ which went to your begetting was drawn from the blood of the +father. And true it is that that same bright male germ lies unquenched +and unquenchable at the center of you, within the famous solar plexus. +And furthermore true is it that this unquenched father-spark within +you sends forth vibrations and dark currents of vital activity all the +time; connecting direct with your father. You will never be able to +get away from it while you live. + +The connection with the mother may be more obvious. Is there not your +ostensible navel, where the rupture between you and her took place? +But because the mother-child relation is more plausible and flagrant, +is that any reason for supposing it deeper, more vital, more +intrinsic? Not a bit. Because if the large parent mother-germ still +lives and acts vividly and mysteriously in the great fused nucleus of +your solar plexus, does the smaller, brilliant male-spark that derived +from your father act any less vividly? By no means. It is +different--it is less ostensible. It may be even in magnitude smaller. +But it may be even more vivid, even more intrinsic. So beware how you +deny the father-quick of yourself. You may be denying the most +intrinsic quick of all. + +In the same way it follows that, since brothers and sisters have the +same father and mother, therefore in every brother and sister there is +a direct communication such as can never happen between strangers. The +parent nuclei do not die within the new nucleus. They remain there, +marvelous naked sparkling dynamic life-centers, nodes, well-heads of +vivid life itself. Therefore in every individual the parent nuclei +live, and give direction connection, blood connection we call it, with +the rest of the family. It _is_ blood connection. For the fecundating +nuclei are the very spark-essence of the blood. And while life lives +the parent nuclei maintain their own centrality and dynamic +effectiveness within the solar plexus of the child. So that every +individual has mother and father both sparkling within himself. + +But this is rather a preliminary truth than an intrinsic truth. The +intrinsic truth of every individual is the new unit of unique +individuality which emanates from the fusion of the parent nuclei. +This is the incalculable and intangible Holy Ghost each time--each +individual his own Holy Ghost. When, at the moment of conception, the +two parent nuclei fuse to form a new unit of life, then takes place +the great mystery of creation. A new individual appears--not the +result of the fusion merely. Something more. The quality of +individuality cannot be derived. The new individual, in his singleness +of self, is a perfectly new whole. He is not a permutation and +combination of old elements, transferred through the parents. No, he +is something underived and utterly unprecedented, unique, a new soul. + +This quality of pure individuality is, however, only the one supreme +quality. It consummates all other qualities, but does not consume +them. All the others are there, all the time. And only at his maximum +does an individual surpass all his derivative elements, and become +purely himself. And most people never get there. In his own pure +individuality a man surpasses his father and mother, and is utterly +unknown to them. "Woman, what have I to do with thee?" But this does +not alter the fact that within him lives the mother-quick and the +father-quick, and that though in his wholeness he is rapt away beyond +the old mother-father connections, they are still there within him, +consummated but not consumed. Nor does it alter the fact that very few +people surpass their parents nowadays, and attain any individuality +beyond them. Most men are half-born slaves: the little soul they are +born with just atrophies, and merely the organism emanates, the new +self, the new soul, the new swells into manhood, like big potatoes. + +So there we are. But considering man at his best, he is at the start +faced with the great problem. At the very start he has to undertake +his tripartite being, the mother within him, the father within him, +and the Holy Ghost, the self which he is supposed to consummate, and +which mostly he doesn't. + +And there it is, a hard physiological fact. At the moment of our +conception, the father nucleus fuses with the mother nucleus, and the +wonder emanates, the new self, the new soul, the new individual cell. +But in the new individual cell the father-germ and the mother-germ do +not relinquish their identity. There they remain still, incorporated +and never extinguished. And so, the blood-stream of race is one +stream, for ever. But the moment the mystery of pure individual +newness ceased to be enacted and fulfilled, the blood-stream would dry +up and be finished. Mankind would die out. + +Let us go back then to the solar plexus. There sparkle the included +mother-germ and father-germ, giving us direct, immediate blood-bonds, +family connection. The connection is as direct and as subtle as +between the Marconi stations, two great wireless stations. A family, +if you like, is a group of wireless stations, all adjusted to the +same, or very much the same vibration. All the time they quiver with +the interchange, there is one long endless flow of vitalistic +communication between members of one family, a long, strange +_rapport_, a sort of life-unison. It is a ripple of life through many +bodies as through one body. But all the time there is the jolt, the +rupture of individualism, the individual asserting himself beyond all +ties or claims. The highest goal for every man is the goal of pure +individual being. But it is a goal you cannot reach by the mere +rupture of all ties. A child isn't born by being torn from the womb. +When it is born by natural process that is rupture enough. But even +then the ties are not broken. They are only subtilized. + +From the solar plexus first of all pass the great vitalistic +communications between child and parents, the first interplay of +primal, pre-mental knowledge and sympathy. It is a great subtle +interplay, and from this interplay the child is built up, body and +psyche. Impelled from the primal conscious center in the abdomen, the +child seeks the mother, seeks the breast, opens a blind mouth and +gropes for the nipple. Not mentally directed and yet certainly +directed. Directed from the dark pre-mind center of the solar plexus. +From this center the child seeks, the mother knows. Hence the true +mindlessness of the pristine, healthy mother. She does not need to +think, mentally to know. She knows so profoundly and actively at the +great abdominal life-center. + +But if the child thus seeks the mother, does it then know the mother +alone? To an infant the mother is the whole universe. Yet the child +needs more than the mother. It needs as well the presence of men, the +vibration from the present body of the man. There may not be any +actual, palpable connection. But from the great voluntary center in +the man pass unknowable communications and unreliable nourishment of +the stream of manly blood, rays which we cannot see, and which so far +we have refused to know, but none the less essential, quickening dark +rays which pass from the great dark abdominal life-center in the +father to the corresponding center in the child. And these rays, these +vibrations, are not like the mother-vibrations. Far, far from it. They +do not need the actual contact, the handling and the caressing. On the +contrary, the true male instinct is to avoid physical contact with a +baby. It may not need even actual presence. But present or absent, +there should be between the baby and the father that strange, +intangible communication, that strange pull and circuit such as the +magnetic pole exercises upon a needle, a vitalistic pull and flow +which lays all the life-plasm of the baby into the line of vital +quickening, strength, knowing. And any lack of this vital circuit, +this vital interchange between father and child, man and child, means +an inevitable impoverishment to the infant. + +The child exists in the interplay of two great life-waves, the womanly +and the male. In appearance, the mother is everything. In truth, the +father has actively very little part. It does not matter much if he +hardly sees his child. Yet see it he should, sometimes, and touch it +sometimes, and renew with it the connection, the life-circuit, not +allow it to lapse, and so vitally starve his child. + +But remember, dear reader, please, that there is not the slightest +need for you to believe me, or even read me. Remember, it's just your +own affair. Don't implicate me. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +PLEXUSES, PLANES AND SO ON + + +The primal consciousness in man is pre-mental, and has nothing to do +with cognition. It is the same as in the animals. And this pre-mental +consciousness remains as long as we live the powerful root and body of +our consciousness. The mind is but the last flower, the _cul de sac_. + +The first seat of our primal consciousnesses the solar plexus, the +great nerve-center situated behind the stomach. From this center we +are first dynamically conscious. For the primal consciousness is +always dynamic, and never, like mental consciousness, static. Thought, +let us say what we will about its magic powers, is instrumental only, +the soul's finest instrument for the business of living. Thought is +just a means to action and living. But life and action take rise +actually at the great centers of dynamic consciousness. + +The solar plexus, the greatest and most important center of our +dynamic consciousness, is a sympathetic center. At this main center of +your first-mind we know as we can never mentally know. Primarily we +know, each man, each living creature knows, profoundly and +satisfactorily and without question, that _I am I._ This root of all +knowledge and being is established in the solar plexus; it is dynamic, +pre-mental knowledge, such as cannot be transferred into thought. Do +not ask me to transfer the pre-mental dynamic knowledge into thought. +It cannot be done. The knowledge that _I am I_ can never be thought: +only known. + +This being the very first term of our life-knowledge, a knowledge +established physically and psychically the moment the two parent +nuclei fused, at the moment of the conception, it remains integral as +a piece of knowledge in every subsequent nucleus derived from this one +original. But yet the original nucleus, formed from the two parent +nuclei at our conception, remains always primal and central, and is +always the original fount and home of the first and supreme knowledge +that _I am I._ This original nucleus is embodied in the solar plexus. + +But the original nucleus divides. The first division, as science +knows, is a division of recoil. From the perfect oneing of the two +parent nuclei in the egg-cell results a recoil or new assertion. That +which was perfect _one_ now divides again, and in the recoil becomes +again two. + +This second nucleus, the nucleus born of recoil, is the nuclear origin +of all the great nuclei of the voluntary system, which are the nuclei +of assertive individualism. And it remains central in the adult human +body as it was in the egg-cell. In the adult human body the first +nucleus of independence, first-born from the great original nucleus of +our conception, lies always established in the lumbar ganglion. Here +we have our positive center of independence, in a multifarious +universe. + +At the solar plexus, the dynamic knowledge is this, that _I am I._ The +solar plexus is the center of all the sympathetic system. The great +prime knowledge is sympathetic in nature. I am I, in vital centrality. +I am I, the vital center of all things. I am I, the clew to the whole. +All is one with me. It is the one identity. + +But at the lumbar ganglion, which is the center of separate identity, +the knowledge is of a different mode, though the term is the same. At +the lumbar ganglion I know that I am I, in distinction from a whole +universe, which is not as I am. This is the first tremendous flash of +knowledge of singleness and separate identity. I am I, not because I +am at one with all the universe, but because I am other than all the +universe. It is my distinction from all the rest of things which makes +me myself. Because I am set utterly apart and distinguished from all +that is the rest of the universe, therefore _I am I._ And this root of +our knowledge in separateness lies rooted all the time in the lumbar +ganglion. It is the second term of our dynamic psychic existence. + +It is from the great sympathetic center of the solar plexus that the +child rejoices in the mother and in its own blissful centrality, its +unison with the as yet unknown universe. Look at the pictures of +Madonna and Child, and you will even _see_ it. It is from this center +that it draws all things unto itself, winningly, drawing love for the +soul, and actively drawing in milk. The same center controls the great +intake of love and of milk, of psychic and of physical nourishment. + +And it is from the great voluntary center of the lumbar ganglion that +the child asserts its distinction from the mother, the single identity +of its own existence, and its power over its surroundings. From this +center issues the violent little pride and lustiness which kicks with +glee, or crows with tiny exultance in its own being, or which claws +the breast with a savage little rapacity, and an incipient +masterfulness of which every mother is aware. This incipient mastery, +this sheer joy of a young thing in its own single existence, the +marvelous playfulness of early youth, and the roguish mockery of the +mother's love, as well as the bursts of temper and rage, all belong to +infancy. And all this flashes spontaneously, _must_ flash +spontaneously from the first great center of independence, the +powerful lumbar ganglion, great dynamic center of all the voluntary +system, of all the spirit of pride and joy in independent existence. +And it is from this center too that the milk is urged away down the +infant bowels, urged away towards excretion. The motion is the same, +but here it applies to the material, not to the vital relation. It is +from the lumbar ganglion that the dynamic vibrations are emitted which +thrill from the stomach and bowels, and promote the excremental +function of digestion. It is the solar plexus which controls the +assimilatory function in digestion. + +So, in the first division of the egg-cell is set up the first plane of +psychic and physical life, remaining radically the same throughout the +whole existence of the individual. The two original nuclei of the +egg-cell remain the same two original nuclei within the corpus of the +adult individual. Their psychic and their physical dynamic is the same +in the solar plexus and lumbar ganglion as in the two nuclei of the +egg-cell. The first great division in the egg remains always the same, +the unchanging great division in the psychic and the physical +structure; the unchanging great division in knowledge and function. It +is a division into polarized duality, psychical and physical, of the +human being. It is the great vertical division of the egg-cell, and of +the nature of man. + +Then, this division having taken place, there is a new thrill of +conjunction or collision between the divided nuclei, and at once the +second birth takes place. The two nuclei now split horizontally. There +is a horizontal division across the whole egg-cell, and the nuclei are +now four, two above, and two below. But those below retain their +original nature, those above are new in nature. And those above +correspond again to those below. + +In the developed child, the great horizontal division of the egg-cell, +resulting in four nuclei, this remains the same. The horizontal +division-wall is the diaphragm. The two upper nuclei are the two +great nerve-centers, the cardiac plexus and the thoracic ganglion. We +have again a sympathetic center primal in activity and knowledge, and +a corresponding voluntary center. In the center of the breast, the +cardiac plexus acts as the great sympathetic mode of new dynamic +activity, new dynamic consciousness. And near the spine, by the wall +of the shoulders, the thoracic ganglion acts as the powerful voluntary +center of separateness and power, in the same vertical line as the +lumbar ganglion, but horizontally so different. + +Now we must change our whole feeling. We must put off the deep way of +understanding which belongs to the lower body of our nature, and +transfer ourselves into the upper plane, where being and functioning +are different. + +At the cardiac plexus, there in the center of the breast, we have now +a new great sun of knowledge and being. Here there is no more of self. +Here there is no longer the dark, exultant knowledge that _I am I._ A +change has come. Here I know no more of myself. Here I am not. Here I +only know the delightful revelation that you are you. The wonder is no +longer within me, my own dark, centrifugal, exultant self. The wonder +is without me. The wonder is outside me. And I can no longer exult +and know myself the dark, central sun of the universe. Now I look with +wonder, with tenderness, with joyful yearning towards that which is +outside me, beyond me, not me. Behold, that which was once negative +has now become the only positive. The other being is now the great +positive reality, I myself am as nothing. Positivity has changed +places. + +If we want to see the portrayed look, then we must turn to the North, +to the fair, wondering, blue-eyed infants of the Northern masters. +They seem so frail, so innocent and wondering, touching outwards to +the mystery. They are not the same as the Southern child, nor the +opposite. Their whole life mystery is different. Instead of +consummating all things within themselves, as the dark little Southern +infants do, the Northern Jesus-children reach out delicate little +hands of wondering innocence towards delicate, flower-reverential +mothers. Compare a Botticelli Madonna, with all her wounded and +abnegating sensuality, with a Hans Memling Madonna, whose soul is pure +and only reverential. Beyond me is the mystery and the glory, says the +Northern mother: let me have no self, let me only seek that which is +all-pure, all-wonderful. But the Southern mother says: This is mine, +this is mine, this is my child, my wonder, my master, my lord, my +scourge, my own. + +From the cardiac plexus the child goes forth in bliss. It seeks the +revelation of the unknown. It wonderingly seeks the mother. It opens +its small hands and spreads its small fingers to touch her. And bliss, +bliss, bliss, it meets the wonder in mid-air and in mid-space it finds +the loveliness of the mother's face. It opens and shuts its little +fingers with bliss, it laughs the wonderful, selfless laugh of pure +baby-bliss, in the first ecstasy of finding all its treasure, groping +upon it and finding it in the dark. It opens wide, child-wide eyes to +see, to see. But it cannot see. It is puzzled, it wrinkles its face. +But when the mother puts her face quite near, and laughs and coos, +then the baby trembles with an ecstasy of love. The glamour, the +wonder, the treasure beyond. The great uplift of rapture. All this +surges from that first center of the breast, the sun of the breast, +the cardiac plexus. + +And from the same center acts the great function of the heart and +breath. Ah, the aspiration, the aspiration, like a hope, like a +yearning constant and unfailing with which we take in breath. When we +breathe, when we take in breath, it is not as when we take in food. +When we breathe in we aspire, we yearn towards the heaven of air and +light. And when the heart dilates to draw in the stream of dark blood, +it opens its arms as to a beloved. It dilates with reverent joy, as a +host opening his doors to an honored guest, whom he delights to serve: +opening his doors to the wonder which comes to him from beyond, and +without which he were nothing. + +So it is that our heart dilates, our lungs expand. They are bidden by +that great and mysterious impulse from the cardiac plexus, which bids +them seek the mystery and the fulfillment of the beyond. They seek the +beyond, the air of the sky, the hot blood from the dark under-world. +And so we live. + +And then, they relax, they contract. They are driven by the opposite +motion from the powerful voluntary center of the thoracic ganglion.. +That which was drawn in, was invited, is now relinquished, allowed to +go forth, negatively. Not positively dismissed, but relinquished. + +There is a wonderful complementary duality between the voluntary and +the sympathetic activity on the same plane. But between the two +planes, upper and lower, there is a further dualism, still more +startling, perhaps. Between the dark, glowing first term of knowledge +at the solar plexus: _I am I, all is one in me_; and the first term of +volitional knowledge: _I am myself, and these others are not as I +am_;--there is a world of difference. But when the world changes +again, and on the upper plane we realize the wonder of other things, +the difference is almost shattering. The thoracic ganglion is a +ganglion of power. When the child in its delicate bliss seeks the +mother and finds her and is added on to her, then it fulfills itself +in the great upper sympathetic mode. But then it relinquishes her. It +ceases to be aware of her. And if she tries to force its love to play +upon her again, like light revealing her to herself, then the child +turns away. Or it will lie, and look at her with the strange, odd, +curious look of knowledge, like a little imp who is spying her out. +This is the curious look that many mothers cannot bear. Involuntarily +it arouses a sort of hate in them--the look of scrutinizing curiosity, +apart, and as it were studying, balancing them up. Yet it is a look +which comes into every child's eyes. It is the reaction of the great +voluntary plexus between the shoulders. The mother is suddenly set +apart, as an object of curiosity, coldly, sometimes dreamily, +sometimes puzzled, sometimes mockingly observed. + +Again, if a mother neglect her child, it cries, it weeps for her love +and attention. Its pitiful lament is one of the forms of compulsion +from the upper center. This insistence on pity, on love, is quite +different from the rageous weeping, which is compulsion from the lower +center, below the diaphragm. Again, some children just drop everything +they can lay hands on over the edge of their crib, or their table. +They drop everything out of sight. And then they look up with a +curious look of negative triumph. This is again a form of recoil from +the upper center, the obliteration of the thing which is outside. And +here a child is acting quite differently from the child who joyously +_smashes_. The desire to smash comes from the lower centers. + +We can quite well recognize the will exerted from the lower center. We +call it headstrong temper and masterfulness. But the peculiar will of +the upper center--the sort of nervous, critical objectivity, the +deliberate forcing of sympathy, the play upon pity and tenderness, the +plaintive bullying of love, or the benevolent bullying of love--these +we don't care to recognize. They are the extravagance of spiritual +_will_. But in its true harmony the thoracic ganglion is a center of +happier activity: of real, eager curiosity, of the delightful desire +to pick things to pieces, and the desire to put them together again, +the desire to "find out," and the desire to invent: all this arises on +the upper plane, at the volitional center of the thoracic ganglion. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +TREES AND BABIES AND PAPAS AND MAMAS + + +Oh, damn the miserable baby with its complicated ping-pong table of an +unconscious. I'm sure, dear reader, you'd rather have to listen to the +brat howling in its crib than to me expounding its plexuses. As for +"mixing those babies up," I'd mix him up like a shot if I'd anything +to mix him with. Unfortunately he's my own anatomical specimen of a +pickled rabbit, so there's nothing to be done with the bits. + +But he gets on my nerves. I come out solemnly with a pencil and an +exercise book, and take my seat in all gravity at the foot of a large +fir-tree, and wait for thoughts to come, gnawing like a squirrel on a +nut. But the nut's hollow. + +I think there are too many trees. They seem to crowd round and stare +at me, and I feel as if they nudged one another when I'm not looking. +I can _feel_ them standing there. And they won't let me get on about +the baby this morning. Just their cussedness. I felt they encouraged +me like a harem of wonderful silent wives, yesterday. + +It is half rainy too--the wood so damp and still and so secret, in the +remote morning air. Morning, with rain in the sky, and the forest +subtly brooding, and me feeling no bigger than a pea-bug between the +roots of my fir. The trees seem so much bigger than me, so much +stronger in life, prowling silent around. I seem to feel them moving +and thinking and prowling, and they overwhelm me. Ah, well, the only +thing is to give way to them. + +It is the edge of the Black Forest--sometimes the Rhine far off, on +its Rhine plain, like a bit of magnesium ribbon. But not to-day. +To-day only trees, and leaves, and vegetable presences. Huge straight +fir-trees, and big beech-trees sending rivers of roots into the +ground. And cuckoos, like noise falling in drops off the leaves. And +me, a fool, sitting by a grassy wood-road with a pencil and a book, +hoping to write more about that baby. + +Never mind. I listen again for noises, and I smell the damp moss. The +looming trees, so straight. And I listen for their silence. Big, +tall-bodied trees, with a certain magnificent cruelty about them. Or +barbarity. I don't know why I should say cruelty. Their magnificent, +strong, round bodies! It almost seems I can hear the slow, powerful +sap drumming in their trunks. Great full-blooded trees, with strange +tree-blood in them, soundlessly drumming. + +Trees that have no hands and faces, no eyes. Yet the powerful +sap-scented blood roaring up the great columns. A vast individual +life, and an overshadowing will. The will of a tree. Something that +frightens you. + +Suppose you want to look a tree in the face? You can't. It hasn't got +a face. You look at the strong body of a trunk: you look above you +into the matted body-hair of twigs and boughs: you see the soft green +tips. But there are no eyes to look into, you can't meet its gaze. You +keep on looking at it in part and parcel. + +It's no good looking at a tree, to know it. The only thing is to sit +among the roots and nestle against its strong trunk, and not bother. +That's how I write all about these planes and plexuses, between the +toes of a tree, forgetting myself against the great ankle of the +trunk. And then, as a rule, as a squirrel is stroked into its +wickedness by the faceless magic of a tree, so am I usually stroked +into forgetfulness, and into scribbling this book. My tree-book, +really. + +I come so well to understand tree-worship. All the old Aryans +worshiped the tree. My ancestors. The tree of life. The tree of +knowledge. Well, one is bound to sprout out some time or other, chip +of the old Aryan block. I can so well understand tree-worship. And +fear the deepest motive. + +Naturally. This marvelous vast individual without a face, without lips +or eyes or heart. This towering creature that never had a face. Here +am I between his toes like a pea-bug, and him noiselessly +over-reaching me. And I feel his great blood-jet surging. And he has +no eyes. But he turns two ways. He thrusts himself tremendously down +to the middle earth, where dead men sink in darkness, in the damp, +dense under-soil, and he turns himself about in high air. Whereas we +have eyes on one side of our head only, and only grow upwards. + +Plunging himself down into the black humus, with a root's gushing +zest, where we can only rot dead; and his tips in high air, where we +can only look up to. So vast and powerful and exultant in his two +directions. And all the time, he has no face, no thought: only a huge, +savage, thoughtless soul. Where does he even keep his soul?--Where +does anybody? + +A huge, plunging, tremendous soul. I would like to be a tree for a +while. The great lust of roots. Root-lust. And no mind at all. He +towers, and I sit and feel safe. I like to feel him towering round me. +I used to be afraid. I used to fear their lust, their rushing black +lust. But now I like it, I worship it. I always felt them huge +primeval enemies. But now they are my only shelter and strength. I +lose myself among the trees. I am so glad to be with them in their +silent, intent passion, and their great lust. They feed my soul. But I +can understand that Jesus was crucified on a tree. + +And I can so well understand the Romans, their terror of the bristling +Hercynian wood. Yet when you look from a height down upon the rolling +of the forest--this Black Forest--it is as suave as a rolling, oily +sea. Inside only, it bristles horrific. And it terrified the Romans. + +The Romans! They too seem very near. Nearer than Hindenburg or Foch or +even Napoleon. When I look across the Rhine plain, it is Rome, and the +legionaries of the Rhine that my soul notices. It must have been +wonderful to come from South Italy to the shores of this sea-like +forest: this dark, moist forest, with its enormously powerful +intensity of tree life. Now I know, coming myself from rock-dry +Sicily, open to the day. + +The Romans and the Greeks found everything human. Everything had a +face, and a human voice. Men spoke, and their fountains piped an +answer. + +But when the legions crossed the Rhine they found a vast impenetrable +life which had no voice. They met the faceless silence of the Black +Forest. This huge, huge wood did not answer when they called. Its +silence was too crude and massive. And the soldiers shrank: shrank +before the trees that had no faces, and no answer. A vast array of +non-human life, darkly self-sufficient, and bristling with indomitable +energy. The Hercynian wood, not to be fathomed. The enormous power of +these collective trees, stronger in their somber life even than Rome. + +No wonder the soldiers were terrified. No wonder they thrilled with +horror when, deep in the woods, they found the skulls and trophies of +their dead comrades upon the trees. The trees had devoured them: +silently, in mouthfuls, and left the white bones. Bones of the mindful +Romans--and savage, preconscious trees, indomitable. The true German +has something of the sap of trees in his veins even now: and a sort of +pristine savageness, like trees, helpless, but most powerful, under +all his mentality. He is a tree-soul, and his gods are not human. His +instinct still is to nail skulls and trophies to the sacred tree, deep +in the forest. The tree of life and death, tree of good and evil, tree +of abstraction and of immense, mindless life; tree of everything +except the spirit, spirituality. + +But after bone-dry Sicily, and after the gibbering of myriad people +all rattling their personalities, I am glad to be with the profound +indifference of faceless trees. Their rudimentariness cannot know why +we care for the things we care for. They have no faces, no minds and +bowels: only deep, lustful roots stretching in earth, and vast, +lissome life in air, and primeval individuality. You can sacrifice the +whole of your spirituality on their altar still. You can nail your +skull on their limbs. They have no skulls, no minds nor faces, they +can't make eyes of love at you. Their vast life dispenses with all +this. But they will live you down. + +The normal life of one of these big trees is about a hundred years. So +the Herr Baron told me. + +One of the few places that my soul will haunt, when I am dead, will be +this. Among the trees here near Ebersteinburg, where I have been +alone and written this book. I can't leave these trees. They have +taken some of my soul. + + * * * * * + +Excuse my digression, gentle reader. At first I left it out, thinking +we might not see wood for trees. But it doesn't much matter what we +see. It's nice just to look round, anywhere. + +So there are two planes of being and consciousness and two modes of +relation and of function. We will call the lower plane the sensual, +the upper the spiritual. The terms may be unwise, but we can think of +no other. + +Please read that again, dear reader; you'll be a bit dazzled, coming +out of the wood. + +It is obvious that from the time a child is born, or conceived, it has +a permanent relation with the outer universe, relation in the two +modes, not one mode only. There are two ways of love, two ways of +activity and independence. And there needs some sort of equilibrium +between the two modes. In the same way, in physical function there is +eating and drinking, and excrementation, on the lower plane and +respiration and heartbeat on the upper plane. + +Now the equilibrium to be established is fourfold. There must be a +true equilibrium between what we eat and what we reject again by +excretion: likewise between the systole and diastole of the heart, +the inspiration and expiration of our breathing. Suffice to say the +equilibrium is never quite perfect. Most people are either too fat or +too thin, too hot or too cold, too slow or too quick. There is no such +thing as an _actual_ norm, a living norm. A norm is merely an +abstraction, not a reality. + +The same on the psychical plane. We either love too much, or impose +our will too much, are too spiritual or too sensual. There is not and +cannot be any actual norm of human conduct. All depends, first, on the +unknown inward need within the very nuclear centers of the individual +himself, and secondly on his circumstance. Some men _must_ be too +spiritual, some _must_ be too sensual. Some _must_ be too sympathetic, +and some _must_ be too proud. We have no desire to say what men +_ought_ to be. We only wish to say there are all kinds of ways of +being, and there is no such thing as human perfection. No man can be +anything more than just himself, in genuine living relation to all his +surroundings. But that which _I_ am, when I am myself, will certainly +be anathema to those who hate individual integrity, and want to swarm. +And that which I, being myself, am in myself, may make the hair +bristle with rage on a man who is also himself, but very different +from me. Then let it bristle. And if mine bristle back again, then let +us, if we must, fly at one another like two enraged men. It is how it +should be. We've got to learn to live from the center of our own +responsibility only, and let other people do the same. + +To return to the child, however, and his development on his two planes +of consciousness. There is all the time a direct dynamic connection +between child and mother, child and father also, from the start. It is +a connection on two planes, the upper and lower. From the lower +sympathetic center the profound intake of love or vibration from the +living co-respondent outside. From the upper sympathetic center the +outgoing of devotion and the passionate vibration of _given_ love, +given attention. The two sympathetic centers are always, or should +always be, counterbalanced by their corresponding voluntary centers. +From the great voluntary ganglion of the lower plane, the child is +self-willed, independent, and masterful. + +In the activity of this center a boy refuses to be kissed and pawed +about, maintaining his proud independence like a little wild animal. +From this center he likes to command and to receive obedience. From +this center likewise he may be destructive and defiant and reckless, +determined to have his own way at any cost. + +From this center, too, he learns to use his legs. The motion of +walking, like the motion of breathing, is twofold. First, a +sympathetic cleaving to the earth with the foot: then the voluntary +rejection, the spurning, the kicking away, the exultance in power and +freedom. + +From the upper voluntary center the child watches persistently, +wilfully, for the attention of the mother: to be taken notice of, to +be caressed, in short to exist in and through the mother's attention. +From this center, too, he coldly refuses to notice the mother, when +she insists on too much attention. This cold refusal is different from +the active rejection of the lower center. It is passive, but cold and +negative. It is the great force of our day. From the ganglion of the +shoulders, also, the child breathes and his heart beats. From the same +center he learns the first use of his arms. In the gesture of +sympathy, from the upper plane, he embraces his mother with his arms. +In the motion of curiosity, or interest, which derives from the +thoracic ganglion, he spreads his fingers, touches, feels, explores. +In the motion of rejection he drops an undesired object deliberately +out of sight. + +And then, when the four centers of what we call the first _field_ of +consciousness are fully active, then it is that the eyes begin to +gather their sight, the mouth to speak, the ears to awake to their +intelligent hearings; all as a result of the great fourfold activity +of the first dynamic field of consciousness. And then also, as a +result, the mind wakens to its impressions and to its incipient +control. For at first the control is non-mental, even non-cerebral. +The brain acts only as a sort of switchboard. + +The business of the father, in all this incipient child-development, +is to stand outside as a final authority and make the necessary +adjustments. Where there is too much sympathy, then the great +voluntary centers of the spine are weak, the child tends to be +delicate. Then the father by instinct supplies the roughness, the +sternness which stiffens in the child the centers of resistance and +independence, right from the very earliest days. Often, for a mere +infant, it is the father's fierce or stern presence, the vibration of +his voice, which starts the frictional and independent activity of the +great voluntary ganglion and gives the first impulse to the +independence which later on is life itself. + +But on the other hand, the father, from his distance, supports, +protects, nourishes his child, and it is ultimately on the remote but +powerful father-love that the infant rests, in a rest which is beyond +mother-love. For in the male the dominant centers are naturally the +volitional centers, centers of responsibility, authority, and care. + +It is the father's business, again, to maintain some sort of +equilibrium between the two modes of love in his infant. A mother may +wish to bring up her child from the lovely upper centers only, from +the centers of the breast, in the mode of what we call pure or +spiritual love. Then the child will be all gentle, all tender and +tender-radiant, always enfolded with gentleness and forbearance, +always shielded from grossness or pain or roughness. Now the father's +instinct is to be rough and crude, good-naturedly brutal with the +child, calling the deeper centers, the sensual centers, into play. +"What do you want? My watch? Well, you can't have it, do you see, +because it's mine." Not a lot of explanations of the "You see, +darling." No such nonsense.--Or if a child wails unnecessarily for its +mother, the father must be the check. "Stop your noise, you little +brat! What ails you, you whiner?" And if children be too sensitive, +too sympathetic, then it will do the child no harm if the father +occasionally throws the cat out of the window, or kicks the dog, or +raises a storm in the house. Storms there must be. And if the child is +old enough and robust enough, it can occasionally have its bottom +soundly spanked--by the father, if the mother refuses to perform that +most necessary duty. For a child's bottom is made occasionally to be +spanked. The vibration of the spanking acts direct upon the spinal +nerve-system, there is a direct reciprocity and reaction, the spanker +transfers his wrath to the great will-centers in the child, and these +will-centers react intensely, are vivified and educated. + +On the other hand, given a mother who is too generally hard or +indifferent, then it rests with the father to provide the delicate +sympathy and the refined discipline. Then the father must show the +tender sensitiveness of the upper mode. The sad thing to-day is that +so few mothers have any deep bowels of love--or even the breast of +love. What they have is the benevolent spiritual will, the will of the +upper self. But the will is not love. And benevolence in a parent is +a poison. It is bullying. In these circumstances the father must give +delicate adjustment, and, above all, some warm, native love from the +richer sensual self. + +The question of corporal punishment is important. It is no use roughly +smacking a shrinking, sensitive child. And yet, if a child is too +shrinking, too sensitive, it may do it a world of good cheerfully to +spank its posterior. Not brutally, not cruelly, but with real sound, +good-natured exasperation. And let the adult take the full +responsibility, half humorously, without apology or explanation. Let +us avoid self-justification at all costs. Real corporal punishments +apply to the sensual plane. The refined punishments of the spiritual +mode are usually much more indecent and dangerous than a good smack. +The pained but resigned disapprobation of a mother is usually a very +bad thing, much worse than the father's shouts of rage. And sendings +to bed, and no dessert for a week, and so on, are crueller and meaner +than a bang on the head. When a parent gives his boy a beating, there +is a living passionate interchange. But in these refined punishments, +the parent suffers nothing and the child is deadened. The bullying of +the refined, benevolent spiritual will is simply vitriol to the soul. +Yet parents administer it with all the righteousness of virtue and +good intention, sparing themselves perfectly. + +The point is here. If a child makes you so that you really want to +spank it soundly, then soundly spank the brat. But know all the time +_what_ you are doing, and always be responsible for your anger. Never +be ashamed of it, and never surpass it. The flashing interchange of +anger between parent and child is part of the responsible +relationship, necessary to growth. Again, if a child offends you +deeply, so that you really can't communicate with it any more, then, +while the hurt is deep, switch off your connection from the child, cut +off your correspondence, your vital communion, and be alone. But never +persist in such a state beyond the time when your deep hurt dies down. +The only rule is, do what you _really_, impulsively, wish to do. But +always act on your own responsibility sincerely. And have the courage +of your own strong emotion. They enrichen the child's soul. + +For a child's primary education depends almost entirely on its +relation to its parents, brothers, and sisters. Between mother and +child, father and child, the law is this: I, the mother, am myself +alone: the child is itself alone. But there exists between us a vital +dynamic relation, for which I, being the conscious one, am basically +responsible. So, as far as possible, there must be in me no departure +from myself, lest I injure the preconscious dynamic relation. I must +absolutely act according to my own true spontaneous feeling. But, +moreover, I must also have wisdom for myself and for my child. Always, +always the deep wisdom of responsibility. And always a brave +responsibility for the soul's own spontaneity. Love--what is love? +We'd better get a new idea. Love is, in all, generous impulse--even a +good spanking. But wisdom is something else, a deep collectedness in +the soul, a deep abiding by my own integral being, which makes me +responsible, not for the child, but for my certain duties towards the +child, and for maintaining the dynamic flow between the child and +myself as genuine as possible: that is to say, not perverted by ideals +or by my _will_. + +Most fatal, most hateful of all things is bullying. But what is +bullying? It is a desire to superimpose my own will upon another +person. Sensual bullying of course is fairly easily detected. What is +more dangerous is ideal bullying. Bullying people into what is ideally +good for them. I embrace for example an ideal, and I seek to enact +this ideal in the person of another. This is ideal bullying. A mother +says that life should be all love, all delicacy and forbearance and +gentleness. And she proceeds to spin a hateful sticky web of permanent +forbearance, gentleness, hushedness around her naturally passionate +and hasty child. This so foils the child as to make him half imbecile +or criminal. I may have ideals if I like--even of love and forbearance +and meekness. But I have no right to ask another to have these ideals. +And to impose _any ideals_ upon a child as it grows is almost +criminal. It results in impoverishment and distortion and subsequent +deficiency. In our day, most dangerous is the love and benevolence +ideal. It results in neurasthenia, which is largely a dislocation or +collapse of the great voluntary centers, a derangement of the will. It +is in us an insistence upon the one life-mode only, the spiritual +mode. It is a suppression of the great lower centers, and a living a +sort of half-life, almost entirely from the upper centers. Thence, +since we live terribly and exhaustively from the upper centers, there +is a tendency now towards pthisis and neurasthenia of the heart. The +great sympathetic center of the breast becomes exhausted, the lungs, +burnt by the over-insistence of one way of life, become diseased, the +heart, strained in one mode of dilation, retaliates. The powerful +lower centers are no longer fully active, particularly the great +lumbar ganglion, which is the clue to our sensual passionate pride and +independence, this ganglion is atrophied by suppression. And it is +this ganglion which holds the spine erect. So, weak-chested, +round-shouldered, we stoop hollowly forward on ourselves. It is the +result of the all-famous love and charity ideal, an ideal now quite +dead in its sympathetic activity, but still fixed and determined in +its voluntary action. + +Let us beware and beware, and beware of having a high ideal for +ourselves. But particularly let us beware of having an ideal for our +children. So doing, we damn them. All we can have is wisdom. And +wisdom is not a theory, it is a state of soul. It is the state wherein +we know our wholeness and the complicate, manifold nature of our +being. It is the state wherein we know the great relations which exist +between us and our near ones. And it is the state which accepts full +responsibility, first for our own souls, and then for the living +dynamic relations wherein we have our being. It is no use expecting +the other person to know. Each must know for himself. But nowadays +men have even a stunt of pretending that children and idiots alone +know best. This is a pretty piece of sophistry, and criminal +cowardice, trying to dodge the life-responsibility which no man or +woman can dodge without disaster. + +The only thing is to be direct. If a child has to swallow castor-oil, +then say: "Child, you've got to swallow this castor-oil. It is +necessary for your inside. I say so because it is true. So open your +mouth." Why try coaxing and logic and tricks with children? Children +are more sagacious than we are. They twig soon enough if there is a +flaw in our own intention and our own true spontaneity. And they play +up to our bit of falsity till there is hell to pay. + +"You love mother, don't you, dear?"--Just a piece of indecent trickery +of the spiritual will. The great emotions like love are unspoken. +Speaking them is a sign of an indecent bullying will. + +"Poor pussy! You must love poor pussy!" + +What cant! What sickening cant! An appeal to love based on false pity. +That's the way to inculcate a filthy pharisaic conceit into a +child.--If the child ill-treats the cat, say: + +"Stop mauling that cat. It's got its own life to live, so let it live +it." Then if the brat persists, give tit for tat. + +"What, you pull the cat's tail! Then I'll pull your nose, to see how +you like it." And give his nose a proper hard pinch. + +Children _must_ pull the cat's tail a little. Children _must_ steal +the sugar sometimes. They _must_ occasionally spoil just the things +one doesn't want them to spoil. And they _must_ occasionally tell +stories--tell a lie. Circumstances and life are such that we must all +sometimes tell a lie: just as we wear trousers, because we don't +choose that everybody shall see our nakedness. Morality is a delicate +act of adjustment on the soul's part, not a rule or a prescription. +Beyond a certain point the child _shall_ not pull the cat's tail, _or_ +steal the sugar, _or_ spoil the furniture, _or_ tell lies. But I'm +afraid you can't fix this certain soul's humor. And so it must. If at +a sudden point you fly into a temper and thoroughly beat the boy for +hardly touching the cat--well, that's life. All you've got to say to +him is: "There, that'll serve you for all the times you _have_ pulled +her tail and hurt her." And he will feel outraged, and so will you. +But what does it matter? Children have an infinite understanding of +the soul's passionate variabilities, and forgive even a real +injustice, if it was _spontaneous_ and not intentional. They know we +aren't perfect. What they don't forgive us is if we pretend we are: or +if we _bully_. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE FIVE SENSES + + +Science is wretched in its treatment of the human body as a sort of +complex mechanism made up of numerous little machines working +automatically in a rather unsatisfactory relation to one another. The +body is the total machine; the various organs are the included +machines; and the whole thing, given a start at birth, or at +conception, trundles on by itself. The only god in the machine, the +human will or intelligence, is absolutely at the mercy of the machine. + +Such is the orthodox view. Soul, when it is allowed an existence at +all, sits somewhat vaguely within the machine, never defined. If +anything goes wrong with the machine, why, the soul is forgotten +instantly. We summon the arch-mechanic of our day, the medicine-man. +And a marvelous earnest fraud he is, doing his best. He is really +wonderful as a mechanic of the human system. But the life within us +fails more and more, while we marvelously tinker at the engines. +Doctors are not to blame. + +It is obvious that, even considering the human body as a very delicate +and complex machine, you cannot keep such a machine running for one +day without most exact central control. Still more is it impossible to +consider the automatic evolution of such a machine. When did any +machine, even a single spinning-wheel, automatically evolve itself? +There was a god in the machine before the machine existed. + +So there we are with the human body. There must have been, and must be +a central god in the machine of each animate corpus. The little soul +of the beetle makes the beetle toddle. The little soul of the _homo +sapiens_ sets him on his two feet. Don't ask me to define the soul. +You might as well ask a bicycle to define the young damsel who so +whimsically and so god-like pedals her way along the highroad. A young +lady skeltering off on her bicycle to meet her young man--why, what +could the bicycle make of such a mystery, if you explained it till +doomsday. Yet the bicycle wouldn't be spinning from Streatham to +Croydon by itself. + +So we may as well settle down to the little god in the machine. We may +as well call it the individual soul, and leave it there. It's as far +as the bicycle would ever get, if it had to define Mademoiselle. But +be sure the bicycle would not deny the existence of the young miss who +seats herself in the saddle. Not like us, who try to pretend there is +no one in the saddle. Why even the sun would no more spin without a +rider than would a cycle-pedal. But, since we have innumerable planets +to reckon with, in the spinning we must not begin to define the rider +in terms of our own exclusive planet. Nevertheless, rider there is: +even a rider of the many-wheeled universe. + +But let us leave the universe alone. It is too big a bauble for +me.--_Revenons._--At the start of me there is me. There is a +mysterious little entity which is my individual self, the god who +builds the machine and then makes his gay excursion of seventy years +within it. Now we are talking at the moment about the machine. For the +moment we are the bicycle, and not the feather-brained cyclist. So +that all we can do is to define the cyclist in terms of ourself. A +bicycle could say: Here, upon my leather saddle, rests a strange and +animated force, which I call the force of gravity, as being the one +great force which controls my universe. And yet, on second thoughts, I +must modify myself. This great force of gravity is not _always_ in +the saddle. Sometimes it just is not there--and I lean strangely +against a wall. I have been even known to turn upside down, with my +wheels in the air; spun by the same mysterious Miss. So that I must +introduce a theory of Relativity. However, mostly, when I am awake and +alive, she is in the saddle; or _it_ is in the saddle, the mysterious +force. And when it is in the saddle, then two subsidiary forces plunge +and claw upon my two pedals, plunge and claw with inestimable power. +And at the same time, a kind and mysterious force sways my head-stock, +sways most incalculably, and governs my whole motion. This force is +not a driving force, but a subtle directing force, beneath whose grip +my bright steel body is flexible as a dipping highroad. Then let me +not forget the sudden clutch of arrest upon my hurrying wheels. Oh, +this is pain to me! While I am rushing forward, surpassing myself in +an _elan vital_, suddenly the awful check grips my back wheel, or my +front wheel, or both. Suddenly there is a fearful arrest. My soul +rushes on before my body, I feel myself strained, torn back. My fibers +groan. Then perhaps the tension relaxes. + +So the bicycle will continue to babble about itself. And it will +inevitably wind up with a philosophy. "Oh, if only the great and +divine force rested for ever upon my saddle, and if only the +mysterious will which sways my steering gear remained in place for +ever: then my pedals would revolve of themselves, and never cease, and +no hideous brake should tear the perpetuity of my motions. Then, oh +then I should be immortal. I should leap through the world for ever, +and spin to infinity, till I was identified with the dizzy and +timeless cycle-race of the stars and the great sun...." + +Poor old bicycle. The very thought is enough to start a philanthropic +society for the prevention of cruelty to bicycles. + +Well, then, our human body is the bicycle. And our individual and +incomprehensible self is the rider thereof. And seeing that the +universe is another bicycle riding full tilt, we are bound to suppose +a rider for that also. But we needn't say what sort of rider. When I +see a cockroach scuttling across the floor and turning up its tail I +stand affronted, and think: A rum sort of rider _you_ must have. +You've no business to have such a rider, do you hear?--And when I hear +the monotonous and plaintive cuckoo in the June woods, I think: Who +the devil made _that_ clock?--And when I see a politician making a +fiery speech on a platform, and the crowd gawping, I think: Lord, save +me--they've all got riders. But Holy Moses! you could never guess what +was coming.--And so I shouldn't like, myself, to start guessing about +the rider of the universe. I am all too flummoxed by the masquerade in +the tourney round about me. + +We ourselves then: wisdom, like charity, begins at home. We've each of +us got a rider in the saddle: an individual soul. Mostly it can't +ride, and can't steer, so mankind is like squadrons of bicycles +running amok. We should every one fall off if we didn't ride so thick +that we hold each other up. Horrid nightmare! + +As for myself, I have a horror of riding _en bloc_. So I grind away +uphill, and sweat my guts out, as they say. + +Well, well--my body is my bicycle: the whole middle of me is the +saddle where sits the rider of my soul. And my front wheel is the +cardiac plane, and my back wheel is the solar plexus. And the brakes +are the voluntary ganglia. And the steering gear is my head. And the +right and left pedals are the right and left dynamics of the body, in +some way corresponding to the sympathetic and voluntary division. + +So that now I know more or less how my rider rides me, and from what +centers controls me. That is, I know the points of vital contact +between my rider and my machine: between my invisible and my visible +self. I don't attempt to say what is my rider. A bicycle might as well +try to define its young Miss by wriggling its handle-bars and ringing +its bell. + +However, having more or less determined the four primary motions, we +can see the further unfolding. In a child, the solar plexus and the +cardiac plexus, with corresponding voluntary ganglia, are awake and +active. From these centers develop the great functions of the body. + +As we have seen, it is the solar plexus, with the lumbar ganglion, +which controls the great dynamic system, the functioning of the liver +and the kidneys. Any excess in the sympathetic dynamism tends to +accelerate the action of the liver, to cause fever and constipation. +Any collapse of the sympathetic dynamism causes anaemia. The sudden +stimulating of the voluntary center may cause diarrhoea, and so on. +But all this depends so completely on the polarized flow between the +individual and the correspondent, between the child and mother, child +and father, child and sisters or brothers or teacher, or +circumambient universe, that it is impossible to lay down laws, +unless we state particulars. Nevertheless, the whole of the great +organs of the lower body are controlled from the two lower centers, +and these organs work well or ill according as there is a true dynamic +_psychic_ activity at the two primary centers of consciousness. By a +_true_ dynamic psychic activity we mean an activity which is true to +the individual himself, to his own peculiar soul-nature. And a dynamic +psychic activity means a dynamic polarity between the individual +himself and other individuals concerned in his living; or between him +and his immediate surroundings, human, physical, geographical. + +On the upper plane, the lungs and heart are controlled from the +cardiac plane and the thoracic ganglion. Any excess in the sympathetic +mode from the upper centers tends to burn the lungs with oxygen, +weaken them with stress, and cause consumption. So it is just criminal +to make a child too loving. No child should be induced to love too +much. It means derangement and death at last. + +But beyond the primary physiological function--and it is the business +of doctors to discover the relation between the functioning of the +primary organs and the dynamic psychic activity at the four primary +consciousness-centers,--beyond these physical functions, there are the +activities which are half-psychic, half-functional. Such as the five +senses. + +Of the five senses, four have their functioning in the face-region. +The fifth, the sense of touch, is distributed all over the body. But +all have their roots in the four great primary centers of +consciousness. From the constellation of your nerve-nodes, from the +great field of your poles, the nerves run out in every direction, +ending on the surface of the body. Inwardly this is an inextricable +ramification and communication. + +And yet the body is planned out in areas, there is a definite +area-control from the four centers. On the back the sense of touch is +not acute. There the voluntary centers act in resistance. But in the +front of the body, the breast is one great field of sympathetic touch, +the belly is another. On these two fields the stimulus of touch is +quite different, has a quite different psychic quality and psychic +result. The breast-touch is the fine alertness of quivering curiosity, +the belly-touch is a deep thrill of delight and avidity. +Correspondingly, the hands and arms are instruments of superb +delicate curiosity, and deliberate execution. Through the elbows and +the wrists flows the dynamic psychic current, and a dislocation in the +current between two individuals will cause a feeling of dislocation at +the wrists and elbows. On the lower plane, the legs and feet are +instruments of unfathomable gratifications and repudiations. The +thighs, the knees, the feet are intensely alive with love-desire, +darkly and superbly drinking in the love-contact, blindly. Or they are +the great centers of resistance, kicking, repudiating. Sudden flushing +of great general sympathetic desire will make a man feel weak at the +knees. Hatred will harden the tension of the knees like steel, and +grip the feet like talons. Thus the fields of touch are four, two +sympathetic fields in front of the body from the throat to the feet, +two resistant fields behind from the neck to the heels. + +There are two fields of touch, however, where the distribution is not +so simple: the face and the buttocks. Neither in the face nor in the +buttocks is there one single mode of sense communication. + +The face is of course the great window of the self, the great opening +of the self upon the world, the great gateway. The lower body has its +own gates of exit. But the bulk of our communication with all the +outer universe goes on through the face. + +And every one of the windows or gates of the face has its direct +communication with each of the four great centers of the first field +of consciousness. Take the mouth, with the sense of taste. The mouth +is primarily the gate of the two chief sensual centers. It is the +gateway to the belly and the loins. Through the mouth we eat and we +drink. In the mouth we have the sense of taste. At the lips, too, we +kiss. And the kiss of the mouth is the first sensual connection. + +In the mouth also are the teeth. And the teeth are the instruments of +our sensual will. The growth of the teeth is controlled entirely from +the two great sensual centers below the diaphragm. But almost entirely +from the one center, the voluntary center. The growth and the life of +the teeth depend almost entirely on the lumbar ganglion. During the +growth of the teeth the sympathetic mode is held in abeyance. There is +a sort of arrest. There is pain, there is diarrhoea, there is misery +for the baby. + +And we, in our age, have no rest with our teeth. Our mouths are too +small. For many ages we have been suppressing the avid, negroid, +sensual will. We have been converting ourselves into ideal creatures, +all spiritually conscious, and active dynamically only on one plane, +the upper, spiritual plane. Our mouth has contracted, our teeth have +become soft and un-quickened. Where in us are the sharp and vivid +teeth of the wolf, keen to defend and devour? If we had them more, we +should be happier. Where are the white negroid teeth? Where? In our +little pinched mouths they have no room. We are sympathy-rotten, and +spirit-rotten, and idea-rotten. We have forfeited our flashing sensual +power. And we have false teeth in our mouths. In the same way the lips +of our sensual desire go thinner and more meaningless, in the +compression of our upper will and our idea-driven impulse. Let us +break the conscious, self-conscious love-ideal, and we shall grow +strong, resistant teeth once more, and the teething of our young will +not be the hell it is. + +Teething is strictly the period when the voluntary center of the lower +plane first comes into full activity, and takes for a time the +precedence. + +So, the mouth is the great sensual gate to the lower body. But let us +not forget it is also a gate by which we breathe, the gate through +which we speak and go impalpably forth to our object, the gate at +which we can kiss the pinched, delicate, spiritual kiss. Therefore, +although the main sensual gate of entrance to the lower body, it has +its reference also to the upper body. + +Taste, the sense of taste, is an intake of a pure communication +between us and a body from the outside world. It contains the element +of touch, and in this it refers to the cardiac plexus. But taste, +_qua_ taste, refers purely to the solar plexus. + +And then smell. The nostrils are the great gate from the wide +atmosphere of heaven to the lungs. The extreme sigh of yearning we +catch through the mouth. But the delicate nose advances always into +the air, our palpable communicator with the infinite air. Thus it has +its first delicate root in the cardiac plexus, the root of its intake. +And the root of the delicate-proud exhalation, rejection, is in the +thoracic ganglion. But the nostrils have their other function of +smell. Here the delicate nerve-ends run direct from the lower centers, +from the solar plexus and the lumbar ganglion, or even deeper. There +is the refined sensual intake when a scent is sweet. There is the +sensual repudiation when a scent is unsavoury. And just as the +fullness of the lips and the shape of the mouth depend on the +development from the lower or the upper centers, the sensual or the +spiritual, so does the shape of the nose depend on the direct control +of the deepest centers of consciousness. A perfect nose is perhaps the +result of a balance in the four modes. But what is a perfect nose!--We +only know that a short snub nose goes with an over-sympathetic nature, +not proud enough; while a long nose derives from the center of the +upper will, the thoracic ganglion, our great center of curiosity, and +benevolent or objective control. A thick, squat nose is the +sensual-sympathetic nose, and the high, arched nose the sensual +voluntary nose, having the curve of repudiation, as when we turn up +our nose from a bad smell, but also the proud curve of haughtiness and +subjective authority. The nose is one of the greatest indicators of +character. That is to say, it almost inevitably indicates the mode of +predominant dynamic consciousness in the individual, the predominant +primary center from which he lives.--When savages rub noses instead of +kissing, they are exchanging a more sensitive and a deeper sensual +salute than our lip-touch. + +The eyes are the third great gateway of the psyche. Here the soul goes +in and out of the body, as a bird flying forth and coming home. But +the root of conscious vision is almost entirely in the breast. When I +go forth from my own eyes, in delight to dwell upon the world which is +beyond me, outside me, then I go forth from wide open windows, through +which shows the full and living lambent darkness of my present inward +self. I go forth, and I leave the lovely open darkness of my sensient +self revealed; when I go forth in the wonder of vision to dwell upon +the beloved, or upon the wonder of the world, I go from the center of +the glad breast, through the eyes, and who will may look into the full +soft darkness of me, rich with my undiscovered presence. But if I am +displeased, then hard and cold my self stands in my eyes, and refuses +any communication, any sympathy, but merely stares outwards. It is the +motion of cold objectivity from the thoracic ganglion. Or, from the +same center of will, cold but intense my eyes may watch with +curiosity, as a cat watches a fly. It may be into my curiosity will +creep an element of warm gladness in the wonder which I am beholding +outside myself. Or it may be that my curiosity will be purely and +simply the cold, almost cruel curiosity of the upper will, directed +from the ganglion of the shoulders: such as is the acute attention of +an experimental scientist. + +The eyes have, however, their sensual root as well. But this is hard +to transfer into language, as all _our_ vision, our modern Northern +vision is in the upper mode of actual seeing. + +There is a sensual way of beholding. There is the dark, desirous look +of a savage who apprehends only that which has direct reference to +himself, that which stirs a certain dark yearning within his lower +self. Then his eye is fathomless blackness. But there is the dark eye +which glances with a certain fire, and has no depth. There is a keen +quick vision which watches, which beholds, but which never yields to +the object outside: as a cat watching its prey. The dark glancing look +which knows the _strangeness_, the danger of its object, the need to +overcome the object. The eye which is not wide open to study, to +_learn_, but which powerfully, proudly or cautiously glances, and +knows the terror or the pure desirability of _strangeness_ in the +object it beholds. The savage is all in all in himself. That which he +sees outside he hardly notices, or, he sees as something odd, +something automatically desirable, something lustfully desirable, or +something dangerous. What we call vision, that he has not. + +We must compare the look in a horse's eye with the look in a cow's. +The eye of the cow is soft, velvety, receptive. She stands and gazes +with the strangest intent curiosity. She goes forth from herself in +wonder. The root of her vision is in her yearning breast. The same one +hears when she moos. The same massive weight of passion is in a bull's +breast; the passion to go forth from himself. His strength is in his +breast, his weapons are on his head. The wonder is always outside him. + +But the horse's eye is bright and glancing. His curiosity is cautious, +full of terror, or else aggressive and frightening for the object. The +root of his vision is in his belly, in the solar plexus. And he fights +with his teeth, and his heels, the sensual weapons. + +Both these animals, however, are established in the sympathetic mode. +The life mode in both is sensitively sympathetic, or preponderantly +sympathetic. Those animals which like cats, wolves, tigers, hawks, +chiefly live from the great voluntary centers, these animals are, in +our sense of the word, almost visionless. Sight in them is sharpened +or narrowed down to a point: the object of prey. It is exclusive. +They see no more than this. And thus they see unthinkably far, +unthinkably keenly. + +Most animals, however, smell what they see: vision is not very highly +developed. They know better by the more direct contact of scent. + +And vision in us becomes faulty because we proceed too much in one +mode. We see too much, we attend too much. The dark, glancing +sightlessness of the intent savage, the narrowed vision of the cat, +the single point of vision of the hawk--these we do not know any more. +We live far too much from the sympathetic centers, without the balance +from the voluntary mode. And we live far, far too much from the +_upper_ sympathetic center and voluntary center, in an endless +objective curiosity. Sight is the least sensual of all the senses. And +we strain ourselves to see, see, see--everything, everything through +the eye, in one mode of objective curiosity. There is nothing inside +us, we stare endlessly at the outside. So our eyes begin to fail; to +retaliate on us. We go short-sighted, almost in self-protection. + +Hearing the last, and perhaps the deepest of the senses. And here +there is no choice. In every other faculty we have the power of +rejection. We have a choice of vision. We can, if we choose, see in +the terms of the wonderful beyond, the world of light into which we go +forth in joy to lose ourselves in it. Or we can see, as the Egyptians +saw, in the terms of their own dark souls: seeing the strangeness of +the creature outside, the gulf between it and them, but finally, its +existence in terms of themselves. They saw according to their own +unchangeable idea, subjectively, they did not go forth from themselves +to seek the wonder outside. + +Those are the two chief ways of sympathetic vision. We call our way +the objective, the Egyptian the subjective. But objective and +subjective are words that depend absolutely on your starting point. +Spiritual and sensual are much more descriptive terms. + +But there are, of course, also the two ways of volitional vision. We +can see with the endless modern critical sight, analytic, and at last +deliberately ugly. Or we can see as the hawk sees the one concentrated +spot where beats the life-heart of our prey. + +In the four modes of sight we have some choice. We have some choice to +refuse tastes or smells or touch. In hearing we have the minimum of +choice. Sound acts direct upon the great affective centers. We may +voluntarily quicken our hearing, or make it dull. But we have really +no choice of what we hear. Our will is eliminated. Sound acts direct, +almost automatically, upon the affective centers. And we have no power +of going forth from the ear. We are always and only recipient. + +Nevertheless, sound acts upon us in various ways, according to the +four primary poles of consciousness. The singing of birds acts almost +entirely upon the centers of the breast. Birds, which live by flight, +impelled from the strong conscious-activity of the breast and +shoulders, have become for us symbols of the spirit, the upper mode of +consciousness. Their legs have become idle, almost insentient twigs. +Only the tail flirts from the center of the sensual will. + +But their singing acts direct upon the upper, or spiritual centers in +us. So does almost all our music, which is all Christian in tendency. +But modern music is analytical, critical, and it has discovered the +power of ugliness. Like our martial music, it is of the upper plane, +like our martial songs, our fifes and our brass-bands. These act +direct upon the thoracic ganglion. Time was, however, when music acted +upon the sensual centers direct. We hear it still in savage music, +and in the roll of drums, and in the roaring of lions, and in the +howling of cats. And in some voices still we hear the deeper resonance +of the sensual mode of consciousness. But the tendency is for +everything to be brought on to the upper plane, whilst the lower plane +is just worked automatically from the upper. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +FIRST GLIMMERINGS OF MIND + + +We can now see what is the true goal of education for a child. It is +the full and harmonious development of the four primary modes of +consciousness, always with regard to the individual nature of the +child. + +The goal is _not_ ideal. The aim is _not_ mental consciousness. We +want _effectual_ human beings, not conscious ones. The final aim is +not _to know_, but _to be_. There never was a more risky motto than +that: _Know thyself_. You've got to know yourself as far as possible. +But not just for the sake of knowing. You've got to know yourself so +that you can at last _be_ yourself. "Be yourself" is the last motto. + +The whole field of dynamic and effectual consciousness is _always_ +pre-mental, non-mental. Not even the most knowing man that ever lived +would know how he would be feeling next week; whether some new and +utterly shattering impulse would have arisen in him and laid his +nicely-conceived self in ruins. It is the impulse we have to live by, +not the ideals or the idea. But we have to know ourselves pretty +thoroughly before we can break the automatism of ideals and +conventions. The savage in a state of nature is one of the most +conventional of creatures. So is a child. Only through fine delicate +knowledge can we recognize and release our impulses. Now our whole aim +has been to force each individual to a maximum of mental control, and +mental consciousness. Our poor little plans of children are put into +horrible forcing-beds, called schools, and the young idea is there +forced to shoot. It shoots, poor thing, like a potato in a warm +cellar. One mass of pallid sickly ideas and ideals. And no root, no +life. The ideas shoot, hard enough, in our sad offspring, but they +shoot at the expense of life itself. Never was such a mistake. Mental +consciousness is a purely individual affair. Some men are born to be +highly and delicately conscious. But for the vast majority, much +mental consciousness is simply a catastrophe, a blight. It just stops +their living. + +Our business, at the present, is to prevent at all cost the young idea +from shooting. The ideal mind, the brain, has become the vampire of +modern life, sucking up the blood and the life. There is hardly an +original thought or original utterance possible to us. All is sickly +repetition of stale, stale ideas. + +Let all schools be closed at once. Keep only a few technical training +establishments, nothing more. Let humanity lie fallow, for two +generations at least. Let no child learn to read, unless it learns by +itself, out of its own individual persistent desire. + +That is my serious admonition, gentle reader. But I am not so flighty +as to imagine you will pay any heed. But if I thought you would, I +should feel my hope surge up. And if you _don't_ pay any heed, +calamity will at length shut your schools for you, sure enough. + +The process of transfer from the primary consciousness to recognized +mental consciousness is a mystery like every other transfer. Yet it +follows its own laws. And here we begin to approach the confines of +orthodox psychology, upon which we have no desire to trespass. But +this we _can_ say. The degree of transfer from primary to mental +consciousness varies with every individual. But in most individuals +the natural degree is very low. + +The process of transfer from primary consciousness is called +sublimation, the sublimating of the potential body of knowledge with +the definite reality of the idea. And with this process we have +identified all education. The very derivation of the Latin word +_education_ shows us. Of course it should mean the leading forth of +each nature to its fullness. But with us, fools that we are, it is the +leading forth of the primary consciousness, the potential or dynamic +consciousness, into mental consciousness, which is finite and static. +Now before we set out so gayly to lead our children _en bloc_ out of +the dynamic into the static way of consciousness, let us consider a +moment what we are doing. + +A child in the womb can have no _idea_ of the mother. I think orthodox +psychology will allow us so much. And yet the child in the womb must +be dynamically conscious of the mother. Otherwise how could it +maintain a definite and progressively developing relation to her? + +This consciousness, however, is utterly non-ideal, non-mental, purely +dynamic, a matter of dynamic polarized intercourse of vital +vibrations, as an exchange of wireless messages which are never +translated from the pulse-rhythm into speech, because they have no +need to be. It is a dynamic polarized intercourse between the great +primary nuclei in the foetus and the corresponding nuclei in the +dynamic maternal psyche. + +This form of consciousness is established at conception, and continues +long after birth. Nay, it continues all life long. But the particular +interchange of dynamic consciousness between mother and child suffers +no interruption at birth. It continues almost the same. The child has +no conception whatsoever of the mother. It cannot see her, for its eye +has no focus. It can hear her, because hearing needs no transmission +into concept, but it has no oral notion of sounds. It knows her. But +only by a form of vital dynamic correspondence, a sort of magnetic +interchange. The idea does not intervene at all. + +Gradually, however, the dark shadow of our object begins to loom in +the formless mind of the infant. The idea of the mother is, as it +were, gradually photographed on the cerebral plasm. It begins with the +faintest shadow--but the figure is gradually developed through years +of experience. It is never quite completed. + +How does the figure of the mother gradually develop as a _conception_ +in the child mind? It develops as the result of the positive and +negative reaction from the primary centers of consciousness. From the +first great center of sympathy the child is drawn to a lovely oneing +with the mother. From the first great center of will comes the +independent self-assertion which locates the mother as something +outside, something objective. And as a result of this twofold notion, +a twofold increase in the child. First, the dynamic establishment of +the individual consciousness in the infant: and then the first shadow +of a mental conception of the mother, in the infant brain. The +development of the _original_ mind in every child and every man always +and only follows from the dual fulfillment in the dynamic +consciousness. + +But mark further. Each time, after the fourfold interchange between +two dynamic polarized lives, there results a development in the +individuality and a sublimation into consciousness, both +simultaneously in each party: _and this dual development causes at +once a diminution in the dynamic polarity between the two parties_. +That is, as its individuality and its mental concept of the mother +develop in the child, there is a corresponding _waning_ of the dynamic +relation between the child and the mother. And this is the natural +progression of all love. As we have said before, the accomplishment of +individuality never finally exhausts the dynamic flow between parents +and child. In the same way, a child can never have a finite conception +of either of its parents. It can have a very much more finite, +finished conception of its aunts or its friends. The portrait of the +parent can never be quite completed in the mind of the son or +daughter. As long as time lasts it must be left unfinished. + +Nevertheless, the inevitable photography of time upon the mental plasm +does print at last a very substantial portrait of the parent, a very +well-filled concept in the child mind. And the nearer a conception +comes towards finality, the nearer does the dynamic relation, out of +which this concept has arisen, draw to a close. To know, is to lose. +When I have a finished mental concept of a beloved, or a friend, then +the love and the friendship is dead. It falls to the level of an +acquaintance. As soon as I have a finished mental conception, a full +idea even of myself, then dynamically I am dead. To know is to die. + +But knowledge and death are part of our natural development. Only, of +course, most things can never be known by us in full. Which means we +do never absolutely die, even to our parents. So that Jesus' question +to His mother, "Woman, what have I to do with thee!"--while +expressing a major truth, still has an exaggerated sound, which comes +from its denial of the minor truth. + +This progression from dynamic relationship towards a finished +individuality and a finished mental concept is carried on from the +four great primary centers through the correspondence medium of all +the senses and sensibilities. First of all, the child knows the mother +only through touch--perfect and immediate contact. And yet, from the +moment of conception, the egg-cell repudiated complete adhesion and +even communication, and asserted its individual integrity. The child +in the womb, perfect a contact though it may have with the mother, is +all the time also dynamically polarized against this contact. From the +first moment, this relation in touch has a dual polarity, and, no +doubt, a dual mode. It is a fourfold interchange of consciousness, the +moment the egg-cell has made its two spontaneous divisions. + +As soon as the child is born, there is a real severance. The contact +of touch is interrupted, it now becomes occasional only. True, the +dynamic flow between mother and child is not severed when simple +physical contact is missing. Though mother and child may not touch, +still the dynamic flow continues between them. The mother knows her +child, feels her bowels and her breast drawn to it, even if it be a +hundred miles away. But if the severance continue long, the dynamic +flow begins to die, both in mother and child. It wanes fairly +quickly--and perhaps can never be fully revived. The dynamic relation +between parent and child may fairly easily fall into quiescence, a +static condition. + +For a full dynamic relationship it is necessary that there be actual +contact. The nerves run from the four primary dynamos, and end with +live ends all over the body. And it is necessary to bring the live +ends of the nerves of the child into contact with the live ends of +corresponding nerves in the mother, so that a pure circuit is +established. Wherever a pure circuit is established, there occurs a +pure development in the individual creation, and this is inevitably +accompanied by sensation; and sensation is the first term of mental +knowledge. + +So, from the field of the breast and arms, the upper circuit, and from +the field of the knees and feet and belly, the lower circuit. + +And then, the moment a child is born, the face is alive. And the face +communicates direct with both planes of primary consciousness. The +moment a child is born, it begins to grope for the breast. And +suddenly a new great circuit is established, the four poles all +working at once, as the child sucks. There is the profound +desirousness of the lower center of sympathy, and the superior avidity +of the center of will, and at the same time, the cleaving yearning to +the nipple, and the tiny curiosity of lips and gums. The nipple of the +mother's breast is one of the great gates of the body, hence of the +living psyche. In the nipple terminate vivid nerves which flash their +very powerful vibrations through the mouth of the child and deep into +its four great poles of being and knowing. Even the nipples of the man +are gateways to the great dynamic flow: still gateways. + +Touch, taste, and smell are now active in the baby. And these senses, +so-called, are strictly sensations. They are the first term of the +child's mental knowledge. And on these three _cerebral_ reactions the +foundation of the future mind is laid. + +The moment there is a perfect polarized circuit between the first four +poles of dynamic consciousness, at that moment does the mind, the +terminal station, flash into cognition. The first cognition is merely +sensation: sensation and the remembrance of sensation being the first +element in all knowing and in all conception. + +The circuit of touch, taste, and smell must be well established, +before the eyes begin actually to see. All mental knowledge is built +up of sensation and of memory. It is the continually recurring +sensation of the touch of the mother which forms the basis of the +first conception of the mother. After that, the gradually +discriminated taste of the mother, and scent of the mother. Till +gradually sight and hearing develop and largely usurp the first three +senses, as medium of correspondence and of knowledge. + +And while, of course, the sensational _knowledge_ is being secreted in +the brain, in some much more mysterious way the living individuality +of the child is being developed in the four first nuclei, the four +great nerve-centers of the primary field of consciousness and being. + +As time goes on, the child learns to see the mother. At first he sees +her face as a blur, and though he knows her, knows her by a direct +glow of communication, as if her face were a warm glowing life-lamp +which rejoiced him. But gradually, as the circuit of touch, taste, and +smell become powerfully established; gradually, as the individual +develops in the child, and so retreats towards isolation; gradually, +as the child stands more immune from the mother, the circuit of +correspondence extends, and the eyes now communicate across space, the +ears begin to discriminate sounds. Last of all develops discriminate +hearing. + +Now gradually the picture of the mother is transferred to the child's +mind, and the sound of the first baby-words is imprinted. And as the +child learns to discriminate visually, objectively, between the mother +and the nurse, he learns to choose, and becomes individually free. And +still, the dynamic correspondence is not finished. It only changes its +circuit. + +While the brain is registering sensations, the four dynamic centers +are coming into perfect relation. Or rather, as we see, the reverse is +the case. As the dynamic centers come into perfect relation, the mind +registers and remembers sensations, and begins consciously to know. +But the great field of activity is still and always the dynamic field. +When a child learns to walk, it learns almost entirely from the solar +plexus and the lumbar ganglion, the cardiac plexus and the thoracic +ganglion balancing the upper body. + +There is a perfected circuit of polarity. The two lower centers are +the positive, the two upper the negative poles. And so the child +strikes out with his feet for the earth, presses, and strikes away +again from the earth, the two upper centers meanwhile corresponding +implicitly in the balance of the upper body. It is a chain of +spontaneous activity in the four primary centers, establishing a +circuit through the whole body. But the positive poles are the lower +centers. And the brain has probably nothing at all to do with it. Even +the _desire_ to walk is not born in the brain, but in the primary +nuclei. + +The same with the use of the hands and arms. It means the +establishment of a pure circuit between the four centers, the two +upper poles now being the positive, the lower the negative poles, and +the hands the live end of the wire. Again the brain is not concerned. +Probably, even in the first deliberate grasping of an object, the +brain is not concerned. Not until there is an element of recognition +and sensation-memory. + +All our primal activity originates and circulates purely in the four +great nerve centers. All our active desire, our genuine impulse, our +love, our hope, our yearning, everything originates mysteriously at +these four great centers or well-heads of our existence: everything +vital and dynamic. The mind can only register that which results from +the emanation of the dynamic impulse and the collision or communion of +this impulse with its object. + +So now we see that we can never know ourselves. Knowledge is to +consciousness what the signpost is to the traveler: just an indication +of the way which has been traveled before. Knowledge is not even in +direct proportion to being. There may be great knowledge of chemistry +in a man who is a rather poor _being_: and those who _know_, even in +wisdom like Solomon, are often at the end of the matter of living, not +at the beginning. As a matter of fact, David did the living, the +dynamic achievement. To Solomon was left the consummation and the +finish, and the dying down. + +Yet we _must_ know, if only in order to learn not to know. The supreme +lesson of human consciousness is to learn how _not to know_. That is, +how not to _interfere_. That is, how to live dynamically, from the +great Source, and not statically, like machines driven by ideas and +principles from the head, or automatically, from one fixed desire. At +last, knowledge must be put into its true place in the living +activity of man. And we must know deeply, in order even to do that. + +So a new conception of the meaning of education. + +Education means leading out the individual nature in each man and +woman to its true fullness. You can't do that by stimulating the mind. +To pump education into the mind is fatal. That which sublimates from +the dynamic consciousness into the mental consciousness has alone any +value. This, in most individuals, is very little indeed. So that most +individuals, under a wise government, would be most carefully +protected from all vicious attempts to inject extraneous ideas into +them. Every extraneous idea, which has no inherent root in the dynamic +consciousness, is as dangerous as a nail driven into a young tree. For +the mass of people, knowledge _must_ be symbolical, mythical, dynamic. +This means, you must have a higher, responsible, conscious class: and +then in varying degrees the lower classes, varying in their degree of +consciousness. Symbols must be true from top to bottom. But the +interpretation of the symbols must rest, degree after degree, in the +higher, responsible, conscious classes. To _those who cannot divest_ +themselves again of mental consciousness and definite ideas, mentality +and ideas are death, nails through their hands and feet. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +FIRST STEPS IN EDUCATION + + +The first process of education is obviously not a mental process. When +a mother talks to a baby, she is not encouraging its little mind to +think. When she is coaxing her child to walk, she is not making a +theoretic exposition of the science of equilibration. She crouches +before the child, at a little distance, and spreads her hands. "Come, +baby--come to mother. Come! Baby, walk! Yes, walk! Walk to mother! +Come along. A little walk to its mother. Come! Come then! Why yes, a +pretty baby! Oh, he can toddle! Yes--yes--No, don't be frightened, a +dear. No--Come to mother--" and she catches his little pinafore by the +tip--and the infant lurches forward. "There! There! A beautiful walk! +A beautiful walker, yes! Walked all the way to mother, baby did. Yes, +he did--" + +Now who will tell me that this talk has any rhyme or reason? Not a +spark of reason. Yet a real rhyme: or rhythm, much more important. +The song and the urge of the mother's voice plays direct on the +affective centers of the child, a wonderful stimulus and tuition. The +words hardly matter. True, this constant repetition in the end forms a +mental association. At the moment they have no mental significance at +all for the baby. But they ring with a strange palpitating music in +his fluttering soul, and lift him into motion. + +And this is the way to educate children: the instinctive way of +mothers. There should be no effort made to teach children to think, to +have ideas. Only to lift them and urge them into dynamic activity. The +voice of dynamic sound, not the words of understanding. Damn +understanding. Gestures, and touch, and expression of the face, not +theory. Never have ideas about children--and never have ideas _for_ +them. + +If we are going to teach children we must teach them first to move. +And not by rule or mental dictation. Horror! But by playing and +teasing and anger, and amusement. A child must learn to move blithe +and free and proud. It must learn the fullness of spontaneous motion. +And this it can only learn by continuous reaction from all the +centers, through all the emotions. A child must learn to contain +itself. It must learn to sit still if need be. Part of the first phase +of education is the learning to stay still and be physically +self-contained. Then a child must learn to be alone, and to adventure +alone, and to play alone. Any peevish clinging should be quite roughly +rebuffed. From the very first day, throw a child back on its own +resources--even a little cruelly sometimes. But don't neglect it, +don't have a negative attitude to it. Play with it, tease it and roll +it over as a dog her puppy, mock it when it is too timorous, laugh at +it, scold it when it really bothers you--for a child must learn not to +bother another person--and when it makes you genuinely angry, spank it +soundly. But always remember that it is a single little soul by +itself; and that the responsibility for the wise, warm relationship is +yours, the adult's. + +Then always watch its deportment. Above all things encourage a +straight backbone and proud shoulders. Above all things despise a +slovenly movement, an ugly bearing and unpleasing manner. And make a +mock of petulance and of too much timidity. + +We are imbeciles to start bothering about love and so forth in a +child. Forget utterly that there is such a thing as emotional +reciprocity. But never forget your own honor as an adult individual +towards a small individual. It is a question of honor, not of love. + +A tree grows straight when it has deep roots and is not too stifled. +Love is a spontaneous thing, coming out of the spontaneous effectual +soul. As a deliberate principle it is an unmitigated evil. Also +morality which is based on ideas, or on an ideal, is an unmitigated +evil. A child which is proud and free in its movements, in all its +deportment, will be quite as moral as need be. Honor is an instinct, a +superb instinct which should be kept keenly alive. Immorality, vice, +crime, these come from a suppression or a collapse at one or other of +the great primary centers. If one of these centers fails to maintain +its true polarity, then there is a physical or psychic derangement, or +both. And viciousness or crime are the result of a derangement in the +primary system. Pure morality is only an instinctive adjustment which +the soul makes in every circumstance, adjusting one thing to another +livingly, delicately, sensitively. There can be no law. Therefore, at +every cost and charge keep the first four centers alive and alert, +active, and vivid in reaction. And then you need fear no perversion. +What we have done, in our era, is, first, we have tried as far as +possible to suppress or subordinate the two sensual centers. We have +so unduly insisted on and exaggerated the upper spiritual or selfless +mode--the living in the other person and through the other +person--that we have caused already a dangerous over-balance in the +natural psyche. + +To correct this we go one worse, and try to rule ourselves more and +more by the old ideas of sympathy and benevolence. We think that love +and benevolence will cure anything. Whereas love and benevolence are +our poison, poison to the giver, and still more poison to the +receiver. Poison only because there is practically _no_ spontaneous +love left in the world. It is all _will_, the fatal love-will and +insatiable morbid curiosity. The pure sympathetic mode of love long +ago broke down. There is now only deadly, exaggerated volition. + +This is also why general education should be suppressed as soon as +possible. We have fallen into a state of fixed, deadly will. +Everything we do and say to our children in school tends simply to fix +in them the same deadly will, under the pretence of pure love. Our +idealism is the clue to our fixed will. Love, beauty, benevolence, +progress, these are the words we use. But the principle we evoke is a +principle of barren, sanctified compulsion of all life. We want to put +all life under compulsion. "How to outwit the nerves," for +example.--And therefore, to save the children as far as possible, +elementary education should be stopped at once. + +No child should be sent to any sort of public institution before the +age of ten years. If I could but advise, I would advise that this +notice should be sent through the length and breadth of the land. + + "Parents, the State can no longer be responsible for the + mind and character of your children. From the first day of + the coming year, all schools will be closed for an + indefinite period. Fathers, see that your boys are trained + to be men. Mothers, see that your daughters are trained to + be women. + + "All schools will shortly be converted either into public + workshops or into gymnasia. No child will be admitted into + the workshops under ten years of age. Active training in + primitive modes of fighting and gymnastics will be + compulsory for all boys over ten years of age. + + "All girls over ten years of age must attend at one domestic + workshop. All girls over ten years of age may, in addition, + attend at one workshop of skilled labor, or of technical + industry, or of art. Admission for three months' probation. + + "All boys over ten years of age must attend at one workshop + of domestic crafts, and at one workshop of skilled labor, or + of technical industry, or of art. A boy may choose, with his + parents' consent, his school of labor, or technical industry + or art, but the directors reserve the right to transfer him + to a more suitable department, if necessary, after a three + months' probation. + + "It is the intention of this State to form a body of active, + energetic citizens. The danger of a helpless, presumptuous, + news-paper-reading population is universally recognized. + + "All elementary education is left in the hands of the + parents, save such as is necessary to the different branches + of industry. + + "Schools of mental culture are free to all individuals over + fourteen years of age. + + "Universities are free to all who obtain the first culture + degree." + +The fact is, our process of universal education is to-day so uncouth, +so psychologically barbaric, that it is the most terrible menace to +the existence of our race. We seize hold of our children, and by +parrot-compulsion we force into them a set of mental tricks. By +unnatural and unhealthy compulsion we force them into a certain amount +of cerebral activity. And then, after a few years, with a certain +number of windmills in their heads, we turn them loose, like so many +inferior Don Quixotes, to make a mess of life. All that they have +learnt in their heads has no reference at all to their dynamic souls. +The windmills spin and spin in a wind of words, Dulcinea del Toboso +beckons round every corner, and our nation of inferior Quixotes jumps +on and off tram-cars, trains, bicycles, motor-cars, buses, in one mad +chase of the divine Dulcinea, who is all the time chewing chocolates +and feeling very, very bored. It is no use telling the poor devils to +stop. They read in the newspapers about more Dulcineas and more +chivalry due to them and more horrid persons who injure the fair fame +of these bored females. And round they skelter, after their own tails. +That is, when they are not forced to grind out their lives for a wage. +Though work is the only thing that prevents our masses from going +quite mad. + +To tell the truth, ideas are the most dangerous germs mankind has ever +been injected with. They are introduced into the brain by injection, +in schools and by means of newspapers, and then we are done for. + +An idea which is merely introduced into the brain, and started +spinning there like some outrageous insect, is the cause of all our +misery to-day. Instead of living from the spontaneous centers, we live +from the head. We chew, chew, chew at some theory, some idea. We +grind, grind, grind in our mental consciousness, till we are beside +ourselves. Our primary affective centers, our centers of spontaneous +being, are so utterly ground round and automatized that they squeak in +all stages of disharmony and incipient collapse. We are a people--and +not we alone--of idiots, imbeciles and epileptics, and we don't even +know we are raving. + +And all is due, directly and solely, to that hateful germ we call the +Ideal. The Ideal is _always_ evil, no matter what ideal it be. No +idea should ever be raised to a governing throne. + +This does not mean that man should immediately cut off his head and +try to develop a pair of eyes in his breasts. But it does mean this: +that an idea is just the final concrete or registered result of living +dynamic interchange and reactions: that no idea is ever perfectly +expressed until its dynamic cause is finished; and that to continue to +put into dynamic effect an already perfected idea means the +nullification of all living activity, the substitution of mechanism, +and all the resultant horrors of _ennui_, ecstasy, neurasthenia, and a +collapsing psyche. + +The whole tree of our idea of life and living is dead. Then let us +leave off hanging ourselves and our children from its branches like +medlars. + +The idea, the actual idea, must rise ever fresh, ever displaced, like +the leaves of a tree, from out of the quickness of the sap, and +according to the forever incalculable effluence of the great dynamic +centers of life. The tree of life is a gay kind of tree that is +forever dropping its leaves and budding out afresh, quite different +ones. If the last lot were thistle leaves, the next lot may be vine. +You never can tell with the Tree of Life. + +So we come back to that precious child who costs us such a lot of +ink. By what right, I ask you, are we going to inject into him our own +disease-germs of ideas and infallible motives? By the right of the +diseased, who want to infect everybody. + +There are _few, few people_ in whom the living impulse and reaction +develops and sublimates into mental consciousness. There are all kinds +of trees in the forest. But few of them indeed bear the apples of +knowledge. The modern world insists, however, that every individual +shall bear the apples of knowledge. So we go through the forest of +mankind, cut back every tree, and try to graft it into an apple-tree. +A nice wood of monsters we make by so doing. + +It is not the _nature_ of most men to know and to understand and to +reason very far. Therefore, why should they make a pretense of it? It +is the nature of some few men to reason, then let them reason. Those +whose nature it is to be rational will instinctively ask why and +wherefore, and wrestle with themselves for an answer. But why every +Tom, Dick and Harry should have the why and wherefore of the universe +rammed into him, and should be allowed to draw the conclusion hence +that he is the ideal person and responsible for the universe, I don't +know. It is a lie anyway--for neither the whys nor the wherefores are +his own, and he is but a parrot with his nut of a universe. + +Why should we cram the mind of a child with facts that have nothing to +do with his own experiences, and have no relation to his own dynamic +activity? Let us realize that every extraneous idea effectually +introduced into a man's mind is a direct obstruction of his dynamic +activity. Every idea which is introduced from outside into a man's +mind, and which does not correspond to his own dynamic nature, is a +fatal stumbling-block for that man: is a cause of arrest for his true +individual activity, and a derangement to his psychic being. + +For instance, if I teach a man the idea that all men are equal. Now +this idea has no foundation in experience, but is logically deduced +from certain ethical or philosophic principles. But there is a disease +of idealism in the world, and we all are born with it. Particularly +teachers are born with it. So they seize on the idea of equality, and +proceed to instil it. With what result? Your man is no longer a man, +living his own life from his own spontaneous centers. He is a +theoretic imbecile trying to frustrate and dislocate all life. + +It is the death of all life to force a pure _idea_ into practice. Life +must be lived from the deep, self-responsible spontaneous centers of +every individual, in a vital, _non-ideal_ circuit of dynamic relation +between individuals. The passions or desires which are thought-born +are deadly. Any particular mode of passion or desire which receives an +exclusive ideal sanction at once becomes poisonous. + +If this is true for men, it is much more true for women. Teach a woman +to act from an idea, and you destroy her womanhood for ever. Make a +woman self-conscious, and her soul is barren as a sandbag. Why were we +driven out of Paradise? Why did we fall into this gnawing disease of +unappeasable dissatisfaction? Not because we sinned. Ah, no. All the +animals in Paradise enjoyed the sensual passion of coition. Not +because we sinned. But because we got our sex into our head. + +When Eve ate that particular apple, she became aware of her own +womanhood, mentally. And mentally she began to experiment with it. She +has been experimenting ever since. So has man. To the rage and horror +of both of them. + +These sexual experiments are really anathema. But once a woman is +sexually self-conscious, what is she to do? There it is, she is born +with the disease of her own self-consciousness, as was her mother +before her. She is bound to experiment and try one idea after another, +in the long run always to her own misery. She is bound to have fixed +one, and then another idea of herself, herself as woman. First she is +the noble spouse of a not-quite-so-noble male: then a _Mater +Dolorosa_: then a ministering Angel: then a competent social unit, a +Member of Parliament or a Lady Doctor or a platform speaker: and all +the while, as a side show, she is the Isolde of some Tristan, or the +Guinevere of some Lancelot, or the Fata Morgana of all men--in her own +idea. She can't stop having an idea of herself. She can't get herself +out of her own head. And there she is, functioning away from her own +head and her own consciousness of herself and her own automatic +self-will, till the whole man and woman game has become just a hell, +and men with any backbone would rather kill themselves than go on with +it--or kill somebody else. + +Yet we are going to inculcate more and more self-consciousness, teach +every little Mary to be more and more a nice little Mary out of her +own head, and every little Joseph to theorize himself up to the +scratch. + +And the point lies here. There will _have_ to come an end. Every race +which has become self-conscious and idea-bound in the past has +perished. And then it has all started afresh, in a different way, with +another race. And man has never learnt any better. We are really far, +far more life-stupid than the dead Greeks or the lost Etruscans. Our +day is pretty short, and closing fast. We can pass, and another race +can follow later. + +But there is another alternative. We still have in us the power to +discriminate between our own idealism, our own self-conscious will, +and that other reality, our own true spontaneous self. Certainly we +are so overloaded and diseased with ideas that we can't get well in a +minute. But we can set our faces stubbornly against the disease, once +we recognize it. The disease of love, the disease of "spirit," the +disease of niceness and benevolence and feeling good on our own behalf +and good on somebody else's behalf. Pah, it is all a gangrene. We can +retreat upon the proud, isolate self, and remain there alone, like +lepers, till we are cured of this ghastly white disease of +self-conscious idealism. + +And we really can make a move on our children's behalf. We really can +refrain from thrusting our children any more into those hot-beds of +the self-conscious disease, schools. We really can prevent their +eating much more of the tissues of leprosy, newspapers and books. For +a time, there should be no compulsory teaching to read and write at +all. _The great mass of humanity should never learn to read and +write_--_never_. + +And instead of this gnawing, gnawing disease of mental consciousness +and awful, unhealthy craving for stimulus and for action, we must +substitute genuine action. The war was really not a bad beginning. But +we went out under the banners of idealism, and now the men are home +again, the virus is more active than ever, rotting their very souls. + +The mass of the people will never _mentally understand_. But they will +soon instinctively fall into line. + +Let us substitute action, all kinds of action, for the mass of people, +in place of mental activity. Even twelve hours' work a day is better +than a newspaper at four in the afternoon and a grievance for the rest +of the evening. But particularly let us take care of the children. At +all cost, try to prevent a girl's mind from dwelling on herself, Make +her act, work, play: assume a rule over her girlhood. Let her learn +the domestic arts in their perfection. Let us even artificially set +her to spin and weave. Anything to keep her busy, to prevent her +reading and becoming self-conscious. Let us awake as soon as possible +to the repulsive machine quality of machine-made things. They smell of +death. And let us insist that the home is sacred, the hearth, and the +very things of the home. Then keep the girls apart from any +familiarity or being "pals" with the boys. The nice clean intimacy +which we now so admire between the sexes is sterilizing. It makes +neuters. Later on, no deep, magical sex-life is possible. + +The same with the boys. First and foremost establish a rule over them, +a proud, harsh, manly rule. Make them _know_ that at every moment they +are in the shadow of a proud, strong, adult authority. Let them be +soldiers, but as individuals not machine units. There are wars in the +future, great wars, which not machines will finally decide, but the +free, indomitable life spirit. No more wars under the banners of the +ideal, and in the spirit of sacrifice. But wars in the strength of +individual men. And then, pure individualistic training to fight, and +preparation for a whole new way of life, a new society. Put money +into its place, and science and industry. The leaders must stand for +life, and they must not ask the simple followers to point out the +direction. When the leaders assume responsibility they relieve the +followers forever of the burden of finding a way. Relieved of this +hateful incubus of responsibility for general affairs, the populace +can again become free and happy and spontaneous, leaving matters to +their superiors. No newspapers--the mass of the people never learning +to read. The evolving once more of the great spontaneous gestures of +life. + +We can't go on as we are. Poor, nerve-worn creatures, fretting our +lives away and hating to die because we have never lived. The secret +is, to commit into the hands of the sacred few the responsibility +which now lies like torture on the mass. Let the few, the leaders, be +increasingly responsible for the whole. And let the mass be free: +free, save for the choice of leaders. + +Leaders--this is what mankind is craving for. + +But men must be prepared to obey, body and soul, once they have chosen +the leader. And let them choose the leader for life's sake only. + +Begin then--there is a beginning. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +EDUCATION AND SEX IN MAN, WOMAN AND CHILD + + +The one thing we have to avoid, then, even while we carry on our own old +process of education, is this development of the powers of so-called +self-expression in a child. Let us beware of artificially stimulating +his self-consciousness and his so-called imagination. All that we do is +to pervert the child into a ghastly state of self-consciousness, making +him affectedly try to show off as we wish him to show off. The moment +the least little trace of self-consciousness enters in a child, good-by +to everything except falsity. + +Much better just pound away at the ABC and simple arithmetic and so +on. The modern methods do make children sharp, give them a sort of +slick finesse, but it is the beginning of the mischief. It ends in the +great "unrest" of a nervous, hysterical proletariat. Begin to teach a +child of five to "understand." To understand the sun and moon and +daisy and the secrets of procreation, bless your soul. Understanding +all the way.--And when the child is twenty he'll have a hysterical +understanding of his own invented grievance, and there's an end of +him. Understanding is the devil. + +A child mustn't understand things. He must have them his own way. His +vision isn't ours. When a boy of eight sees a horse, he doesn't see +the correct biological object we intend him to see. He sees a big +living presence of no particular shape with hair dangling from its +neck and four legs. If he puts two eyes in the profile, he is quite +right. Because he does _not_ see with optical, photographic vision. +The image on his retina is _not_ the image of his consciousness. The +image on his retina just does not go into him. His unconsciousness is +filled with a strong, dark, vague prescience of a powerful presence, a +two-eyed, four-legged, long-maned presence looming imminent. + +And to _force_ the boy to see a correct one-eyed horse-profile is just +like pasting a placard in front of his vision. It simply kills his +inward seeing. We don't _want_ him to see a proper horse. The child is +_not_ a little camera. He is a small vital organism which has direct +dynamic _rapport_ with the objects of the outer universe. He +perceives from his breast and his abdomen, with deep-sunken realism, +the elemental nature of the creature. So that to this day a Noah's Ark +tree is more real than a Corot tree or a Constable tree: and a flat +Noah's Ark cow has a deeper vital reality than even a Cuyp cow. + +The mode of vision is not one and final. The mode of vision is +manifold. And the optical image is a mere vibrating blur to a +child--and, indeed, to a passionate adult. In this vibrating blur the +soul sees its own true correspondent. It sees, in a cow, horns and +squareness, and a long tail. It sees, for a horse, a mane, and a long +face, round nose, and four legs. And in each case a darkly vital +presence. Now horns and squareness and a long thin ox-tail, these are +the fearful and wonderful elements of the cow-form, which the dynamic +soul perfectly perceives. The ideal-image is just outside nature, for +a child--something false. In a picture, a child wants elemental +recognition, and not correctness or expression, or least of all, what +we call understanding. The child distorts inevitably and dynamically. +But the dynamic abstraction is more than mental. If a huge eye sits in +the middle of the cheek, in a child's drawing, this shows that the +deep dynamic consciousness of the eye, its relative exaggeration, is +the life-truth, even if it is a scientific falsehood. + +On the other hand, what on earth is the good of saying to a child, +"The world is a flattened sphere, like an orange." It is simply +pernicious. You had much better say the world is a poached egg in a +frying pan. _That_ might have some dynamic meaning. The only thing +about the flattened orange is that the child just sees this orange +disporting itself in blue air, and never bothers to associate it with +the earth he treads on. And yet it would be so much better for the +mass of mankind if they never heard of the flattened sphere. They +should never be told that the earth is round. It only makes everything +unreal to them. They are balked in their impression of the flat good +earth, they can't get over this sphere business, they live in a fog of +abstraction, and nothing is anything. Save for purposes of +abstraction, the earth is a great plain, with hills and valleys. Why +force abstractions and kill the reality, when there's no need? + +As for children, will we never realize that their abstractions are +never based on observations, but on subjective exaggerations? If there +is an eye in the face, the face is all eye. It is the child soul +which cannot get over the mystery of the eye. If there is a tree in a +landscape, the landscape is all tree. Always this partial focus. The +attempt to make a child focus for a whole view--which is really a +generalization and an adult abstraction--is simply wicked. Yet the +first thing we do is to set a child making relief-maps in clay, for +example: of his own district. Imbecility! He has not even the faintest +impression of the total hill on which his home stands. A steepness +going up to a door--and front garden railings--and perhaps windows. +That's the lot. + +The top and bottom of it is, that it is a crime to teach a child +anything at all, school-wise. It is just evil to collect children +together and teach them through the head. It causes absolute +starvation in the dynamic centers, and sterile substitute of brain +knowledge is all the gain. The children of the middle classes are so +vitally impoverished, that the miracle is they continue to exist at +all. The children of the lower classes do better, because they escape +into the streets. But even the children of the proletariat are now +infected. + +And, of course, as my critics point out, under all the school-smarm +and newspaper-cant, man is to-day as savage as a cannibal, and more +dangerous. The living dynamic self is denaturalized instead of being +educated. + +We talk about education--leading forth the natural intelligence of a +child. But ours is just the opposite of leading forth. It is a ramming +in of brain facts through the head, and a consequent distortion, +suffocation, and starvation of the primary centers of consciousness. A +nice day of reckoning we've got in front of us. + +Let us lead forth, by all means. But let us not have mental knowledge +before us as the goal of the leading. Much less let us make of it a +vicious circle in which we lead the unhappy child-mind, like a cow in +a ring at a fair. We don't want to educate children so that they may +understand. Understanding is a fallacy and a vice in most people. I +don't even want my child to know, much less to understand. _I_ don't +want my child to know that five fives are twenty-five, any more than I +want my child to wear my hat or my boots. I _don't_ want my child to +_know_. If he wants five fives let him count them on his fingers. As +for his little mind, give it a rest, and let his dynamic self be +alert. He will ask "why" often enough. But he more often asks why the +sun shines, or why men have mustaches, or why grass is green, than +anything sensible. Most of a child's questions are, and should be, +unanswerable. They are not questions at all. They are exclamations of +wonder, they are _remarks_ half-sceptically addressed. When a child +says, "Why is grass green?" he half implies. "Is it really green, or +is it just taking me in?" And we solemnly begin to prate about +chlorophyll. Oh, imbeciles, idiots, inexcusable owls! + +The whole of a child's development goes on from the great dynamic +centers, and is basically non-mental. To introduce mental activity is +to arrest the dynamic activity, and stultify true dynamic development. +By the age of twenty-one our young people are helpless, hopeless, +selfless, floundering mental entities, with nothing in front of them, +because they have been starved from the roots, systematically, for +twenty-one years, and fed through the head. They have had all their +mental excitements, sex and everything, all through the head, and when +it comes to the actual thing, why, there's nothing in it. _Blase._ The +affective centers have been exhausted from the head. + +Before the age of fourteen, children should be taught only to move, to +act, to _do_. And they should be taught as little as possible even of +this. Adults simply cannot and do not know any more what the mode of +childish intelligence is. Adults _always_ interfere. They _always_ +force the adult mental mode. Therefore children must be preserved from +adult instructions. + +Make a child work--yes. Make it do little jobs. Keep a fine and +delicate and fierce discipline, so that the little jobs are performed +as perfectly as is consistent with the child's nature. Make the child +alert, proud, and becoming in its movements. Make it know very +definitely that it shall not and must not trespass on other people's +privacy or patience. Teach it songs, tell it tales. But _never_ +instruct it school-wise. And mostly, leave it alone, send it away to +be with other children and to get in and out of mischief, and in and +out of danger. Forget your child altogether as much as possible. + +All this is the active and strenuous business of parents, and must not +be shelved off on to strangers. It is the business of parents +_mentally_ to forget but dynamically never to forsake their children. + +It is no use expecting parents to know _why_ schools are closed, and +_why_ they, the parents, must be quite responsible for their own +children during the first ten years. If it is quite useless to expect +parents to understand a theory of relativity, much less will they +understand the development of the dynamic consciousness. But why should +they understand? It is the business of very few to understand and for +the mass, it is their business to believe and not to bother, but to be +honorable and humanly to fulfill their human responsibilities. To give +active obedience to their leaders, and to possess their own souls in +natural pride. + +Some must understand why a child is not to be mentally educated. Some +must have a faint inkling of the processes of consciousness during the +first fourteen years. Some must know what a child beholds, when it +looks at a horse, and what it means when it says, "Why is grass +green?" The answer to this question, by the way, is "Because it is." + +The interplay of the four dynamic centers follows no one conceivable +law. Mental activity continues according to a law of co-relation. But +there is no logical or rational co-relation in the dynamic +consciousness. It pulses on inconsequential, and it would be +impossible to determine any sequence. Out of the very lack of sequence +in dynamic consciousness does the individual himself develop. The +dynamic abstraction of a child's precepts follows no mental law, and +even no law which can ever be mentally propounded. And this is why it +is utterly pernicious to set a child making a clay relief-map of its +own district, or to ask a child to draw conclusions from given +observations. Dynamically, a child draws no conclusions. All things +still remain dynamically possible. A conclusion drawn is a nail in the +coffin of a child's developing being. Let a child make a clay +landscape, if it likes. But entirely according to its own fancy, and +without conclusions drawn. Only, let the landscape be vividly +made--always the discipline of the soul's full attention. "Oh, but +where are the factory chimneys?"--or else--"Why have you left out the +gas-works?" or "Do you call that sloppy thing a church?" The +particular focus should be vivid, and the record in some way true. The +soul must give earnest attention, that is all. + +And so actively disciplined, the child develops for the first ten +years. We need not be afraid of letting children see the passions and +reactions of adult life. Only we must not strain the _sympathies_ of a +child, in _any_ direction, particularly the direction of love and +pity. Nor must we introduce the fallacy of right and wrong. +Spontaneous distaste should take the place of right and wrong. And +least of all must there be a cry: "You see, dear, you don't +understand. When you are older--" A child's sagacity is better than an +adult understanding, anyhow. + +Of course it is ten times criminal to tell young children facts about +sex, or to implicate them in adult relationships. A child has a strong +evanescent sex consciousness. It instinctively writes impossible words +on back walls. But this is not a fully conscious mental act. It is a +kind of dream act--quite natural. The child's curious, shadowy, +indecent sex-knowledge is quite in the course of nature. And does +nobody any harm at all. Adults had far better not notice it. But if a +child sees a cockerel tread a hen, or two dogs coupling, well and +good. It _should_ see these things. Only, without comment. Let nothing +be exaggeratedly hidden. By instinct, let us preserve the decent +privacies. But if a child occasionally sees its parent nude, taking a +bath, all the better. Or even sitting in the W. C. Exaggerated secrecy +is bad. But indecent exposure is also very bad. But worst of all is +dragging in the _mental_ consciousness of these shadowy dynamic +realities. + +In the same way, to talk to a child about an adult is vile. Let +adults keep their adult feelings and communications for people of +their own age. But if a child sees its parents violently quarrel, all +the better. There must be storms. And a child's dynamic understanding +is far deeper and more penetrating than our sophisticated +interpretation. But _never_ make a child a party to adult affairs. +Never drag the child in. Refuse its sympathy on such occasions. Always +treat it as if it had _no_ business to hear, even if it is present and +_must_ hear. Truly, it has no business mentally to hear. And the +dynamic soul will always weigh things up and dispose of them properly, +if there be no interference of adult comment or adult desire for +sympathy. It is despicable for any one parent to accept a child's +sympathy against the other parent. And the one who _received_ the +sympathy is always more contemptible than the one who is hated. + +Of course so many children are born to-day unnaturally mentally awake +and alive to adult affairs, that there is nothing left but to tell +them everything, crudely: or else, much better, to say: "Ah, get out, +you know too much, you make me sick." + +To return to the question of sex. A child is born sexed. A child is +either male or female, in the whole of its psyche and physique is +either male or female. Every single living cell is either male or +female, and will remain either male or female as long as life lasts. +And every single cell in every male child is male, and every cell in +every female child is female. The talk about a third sex, or about the +indeterminate sex, is just to pervert the issue. + +Biologically, it is true, the rudimentary formation of both sexes is +found in every individual. That doesn't mean that every individual is +a bit of both, or either, _ad lib._ After a sufficient period of +idealism, men become hopelessly self-conscious. That is, the great +affective centers no longer act spontaneously, but always wait for +control from the head. This always breeds a great fluster in the +psyche, and the poor self-conscious individual cannot help posing and +posturing. Our ideal has taught us to be gentle and wistful: rather +girlish and yielding, and _very_ yielding in our sympathies. In fact, +many young men feel so very like what they imagine a girl must feel, +that hence they draw the conclusion that they must have a large share +of female sex inside them. False conclusion. + +These girlish men have often, to-day, the finest maleness, once it is +put to the test. How is it then that they feel, and look, so girlish? +It is largely a question of the direction of the polarized flow. Our +ideal has taught us to be _so_ loving and _so_ submissive and _so_ +yielding in our sympathy, that the mode has become automatic in many +men. Now in what we will call the "natural" mode, man has his +positivity in the volitional centers, and women in the sympathetic. In +fulfilling the Christian love ideal, however, men have reversed this. +Man has assumed the gentle, all-sympathetic role, and woman has become +the energetic party, with the authority in her hands. The male is the +sensitive, sympathetic nature, the woman the active, effective, +authoritative. So that the male acts as the passive, or recipient pole +of attraction, the female as the active, positive, exertive pole, in +human relations. Which is a reversal of the old flow. The woman is now +the initiator, man the responder. They seem to play each other's +parts. But man is purely male, playing woman's part, and woman is +purely female, however manly. The gulf between Heliogabalus, or the +most womanly man on earth, and the most manly woman, is just the same +as ever: just the same old gulf between the sexes. The man is male, +the woman is female. Only they are playing one another's parts, as +they must at certain periods. The dynamic polarity has swung around. + +If we look a little closer, we can define this positive and negative +business better. As a matter of fact, positive and negative, passive +and active cuts both ways. If the man, as thinker and doer, is active, +or positive, and the woman negative, then, on the other hand, as the +initiator of emotion, of feeling, and of sympathetic understanding the +woman is positive, the man negative. The man may be the initiator in +action, but the woman is initiator in emotion. The man has the +initiative as far as voluntary activity goes, and the woman the +initiative as far as sympathetic activity goes. In love, it is the +woman naturally who loves, the man who is loved. In love, woman is the +positive, man the negative. It is woman who asks, in love, and man who +answers. In life, the reverse is the case. In knowing and in doing, +man is positive and woman negative: man initiates, and woman lives up +to it. + +Naturally this nicely arranged order of things may be reversed. Action +and utterance, which are male, are polarized against feeling, emotion, +which are female. And which is positive, which negative? Was man, the +eternal protagonist, born of woman, from her womb of fathomless +emotion? Or was woman, with her deep womb of emotion, born from the +rib of active man, the first created? Man, the doer, the knower, the +original in _being_, is he lord of life? Or is woman, the great +Mother, who bore us from the womb of love, is she the supreme Goddess? + +This is the question of all time. And as long as man and woman endure, +so will the answer be given, first one way, then the other. Man, as +the utterer, usually claims that Eve was created out of his spare rib: +from the field of the creative, upper dynamic consciousness, that is. +But woman, as soon as she gets a word in, points to the fact that man +inevitably, poor darling, is the issue of his mother's womb. So the +battle rages. + +But some men always agree with the woman. Some men always yield to +woman the creative positivity. And in certain periods, such as the +present, the majority of men concur in regarding woman as the source +of life, the first term in creation: woman, the mother, the prime +being. + +And then, the whole polarity shifts over. Man still remains the doer +and thinker. But he is so only in the service of emotional and +procreative woman. His highest moment is now the emotional moment when +he gives himself up to the woman, when he forms the perfect answer +for her great emotional and procreative asking. All his thinking, all +his activity in the world only contributes to this great moment, when +he is fulfilled in the emotional passion of the woman, the birth of +rebirth, as Whitman calls it. In his consummation in the emotional +passion of a woman, man is reborn, which is quite true. + +And there is the point at which we all now stick. Life, thought, and +activity, all are devoted truly to the great end of Woman, wife and +mother. + +Man has now entered on to his negative mode. Now, his consummation is +in feeling, not in action. Now, his activity is all of the domestic +order and all his thought goes to proving that nothing matters except +that birth shall continue and woman shall rock in the nest of this +globe like a bird who covers her eggs in some tall tree. Man is the +fetcher, the carrier, the sacrifice, the crucified, and the reborn of +woman. + +This being so, the whole tendency of his nature changes. Instead of +being assertive and rather insentient, he becomes wavering and +sensitive. He begins to have as many feelings--nay, more than a woman. +His heroism is all in altruistic endurance. He worships pity and +tenderness and weakness, even in himself. In short, he takes on very +largely the original role of woman. Woman meanwhile becomes the +fearless, inwardly relentless, determined positive party. She grips +the responsibility. The hand that rocks the cradle rules the world. +Nay, she makes man discover that cradles should not be rocked, in +order that her hands may be left free. She is now a queen of the +earth, and inwardly a fearsome tyrant. She keeps pity and tenderness +emblazoned on her banners. But God help the man whom she pities. +Ultimately she tears him to bits. + +Therefore we see the reversal of the old poles. Man becomes the +emotional party, woman the positive and active. Man begins to show +strong signs of the peculiarly strong passive sex desire, the desire +to be taken, which is considered characteristic of woman. Man begins +to have all the feelings of woman--or all the feelings which he +attributed to woman. He becomes more feminine than woman ever was, and +worships his own femininity, calling it the highest. In short, he +begins to exhibit all signs of sexual complexity. He begins to imagine +he really is half female. And certainly woman seems very male. So the +hermaphrodite fallacy revives again. + +But it is all a fallacy. Man, in the midst of all his effeminacy, is +still male and nothing but male. And woman, though she harangue in +Parliament or patrol the streets with a helmet on her head, is still +completely female. They are only playing each other's roles, because +the poles have swung into reversion. The compass is reversed. But that +doesn't mean that the north pole has become the south pole, or that +each is a bit of both. + +Of course a woman should stick to her own natural emotional +positivity. But then man must stick to his own positivity of _being_, +of action, _disinterested, non-domestic, male_ action, which is not +devoted to the increase of the female. Once man vacates his camp of +sincere, passionate positivity in disinterested being, his supreme +responsibility to fulfill his own profoundest impulses, with reference +to none but God or his own soul, not taking woman into count at all, +in this primary responsibility to his own deepest soul; once man +vacates this strong citadel of his own genuine, not spurious, +divinity; then in comes woman, picks up the scepter and begins to +conduct a rag-time band. + +Man remains man, however he may put on wistfulness and tenderness like +petticoats, and sensibilities like pearl ornaments. Your sensitive +little big-eyed boy, so much more gentle and loving than his harder +sister, is male for all that, believe me. Perhaps evilly male, so +mothers may learn to their cost: and wives still more. + +Of course there should be a great balance between the sexes. Man, in +the daytime, must follow his own soul's greatest impulse, and give +himself to life-work and risk himself to death. It is not woman who +claims the highest in man. It is a man's own religious soul that +drives him on beyond woman, to his supreme activity. For his highest, +man is responsible to God alone. He may not pause to remember that he +has a life to lose, or a wife and children to leave. He must carry +forward the banner of life, though seven worlds perish, with all the +wives and mothers and children in them. Hence Jesus, "Woman, what have +I to do with thee?" Every man that lives has to say it again to his +wife or mother, once he has any work or mission in hand, that comes +from his soul. + +But again, no man is a blooming marvel for twenty-four hours a day. +Jesus or Napoleon or any other of them ought to have been man enough +to be able to come home at tea-time and put his slippers on and sit +under the spell of his wife. For there you are, the woman has her +world, her positivity: the world of love, of emotion, of sympathy. And +it behooves every man in his hour to take off his shoes and relax and +give himself up to his woman and her world. Not to give up his +purpose. But to give up himself for a time to her who is his +mate.--And so it is one detests the clock-work Kant, and the +petit-bourgeois Napoleon divorcing his Josephine for a Hapsburg--or +even Jesus, with his "Woman, what have I to do with thee?"--He might +have added "just now."--They were all failures. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE BIRTH OF SEX + + +The last chapter was a chapter of semi-digression. We now return to +the straight course. Is the straightness none too evident? Ah well, +it's a matter of relativity. A child is born with one sex only, and +remains always single in his sex. There is no intermingling, only a +great change of roles is possible. But man in the female role is still +male. + +Sex--that is to say, maleness and femaleness--is present from the +moment of birth, and in every act or deed of every child. But sex in +the real sense of dynamic sexual relationship, this does not exist in +a child, and cannot exist until puberty and after. True, children have +a sort of sex consciousness. Little boys and little girls may even +commit indecencies together. And still it is nothing vital. It is a +sort of shadow activity, a sort of dream-activity. It has no very +profound effect. + +But still, boys and girls should be kept apart as much as possible, +that they may have some sort of respect and fear for the gulf that +lies between them in nature, and for the great strangeness which each +has to offer the other, finally. We are all wrong when we say there is +no vital difference between the sexes. There is every difference. +Every bit, every cell in a boy is male, every cell is female in a +woman, and must remain so. Women can never feel or know as men do. And +in the reverse men can never feel and know, dynamically, as women do. +Man, acting in the passive or feminine polarity, is still man, and he +doesn't have one single unmanly feeling. And women, when they speak +and write, utter not one single word that men have not taught them. +Men learn their feelings from women, women learn their mental +consciousness from men. And so it will ever be. Meanwhile, women live +forever by feeling, and men live forever from an inherent sense of +_purpose_. Feeling is an end in itself. This is unspeakable truth to a +woman, and never true for one minute to a man. When man, in the +Epicurean spirit, embraces feeling, he makes himself a martyr to +it--like Maupassant or Oscar Wilde. Woman will _never_ understand the +depth of the spirit of purpose in man, his deeper spirit. And man +will never understand the sacredness of feeling to woman. Each will +play at the other's game, but they will remain apart. + +The whole mode, the whole everything is really different in man and +woman. Therefore we should keep boys and girls apart, that they are +pure and virgin in themselves. On mixing with one another, in becoming +familiar, in being "pals," they lose their own male and female +integrity. And they lose the treasure of the future, the vital sex +polarity, the dynamic magic of life. For the magic and the dynamism +rests on _otherness_. + +For actual sex is a vital polarity. And a polarity which rouses into +action, as we know, at puberty. + +And how? As we know, a child lives from the great field of dynamic +consciousness established between the four poles of the dynamic +psyche, two great poles of sympathy, two great poles of will. The +solar plexus and the lumbar ganglion, great nerve-centers below the +diaphragm, act as the dynamic origin of all consciousness in man, and +are immediately polarized by the other two nerve-centers, the cardiac +plexus and the thoracic ganglion above the diaphragm. At these four +poles the whole flow, both within the individual and from without +him, of dynamic consciousness and dynamic creative relationship is +centered. These four first poles constitute the first field of dynamic +consciousness for the first twelve or fourteen years of the life of +every child. + +And then a change takes place. It takes place slowly, gradually and +inevitably, utterly beyond our provision or control. The living soul +is unfolding itself in another great metamorphosis. + +What happens, in the biological psyche, is that deeper centers of +consciousness and function come awake. Deep in the lower body the +great sympathetic center, the hypogastric plexus has been acting all +the time in a kind of dream-automatism, balanced by its corresponding +voluntary center, the sacral ganglion. At the age of twelve these two +centers begin slowly to rumble awake, with a deep reverberant force +that changes the whole constitution of the life of the individual. + +And as these two centers, the sympathetic center of the deeper +abdomen, and the voluntary center of the loins, gradually sparkle into +wakeful, _conscious_ activity, their corresponding poles are roused in +the upper body. In the region of the throat and neck, the so-called +cervical plexuses and the cervical ganglia dawn into activity. + +We have now another field of dawning dynamic consciousness, that will +extend far beyond the first. And now various things happen to us. +First of all actual sex establishes its strange and troublesome +presence within us. This is the massive wakening of the lower body. +And then, in the upper body, the breasts of a woman begin to develop, +her throat changes its form. And in the man, the voice breaks, the +beard begins to grow round the lips and on to the throat. There are +the obvious physiological changes resulting from the gradual bursting +into free activity of the hypogastric plexus and the sacral ganglion, +in the lower body, and of the cervical plexuses and ganglia of the +neck, in the upper body. + +Why the growth of hair should start at the lower and upper sympathetic +regions we cannot say. Perhaps for protection. Perhaps to preserve +these powerful yet supersensitive nodes from the inclemency of changes +in temperature, which might cause a derangement. Perhaps for the sake +of protective warning, as hair warns when it is touched. Perhaps for a +screen against various dynamic vibrations, and as a receiver of other +suited dynamic vibrations. It may be that even the hair of the head +acts as a sensitive vibration-medium for conveying currents of +physical and vitalistic activity to and from the brain. And perhaps +from the centers of intense vital surcharge hair springs as a sort of +annunciation or declaration, like a crest of life-assertion. Perhaps +all these things, and perhaps others. + +But with the bursting awake of the four new poles of dynamic +consciousness and being, change takes place in everything, the +features now begin to take individual form, the limbs develop out of +the soft round matrix of child-form, the body resolves itself into +distinctions. A strange creative change in being has taken place. The +child before puberty is quite another thing from the child after +puberty. Strange indeed is this new birth, this rising from the sea of +childhood into a new being. It is a resurrection which we fear. + +And now, a new world, a new heaven and a new earth. Now new +relationships are formed, the old ones retire from their prominence. +Now mother and father inevitably give way before masters and +mistresses, brothers and sisters yield to friends. This is the period +of _Schwaermerei_, of young adoration and of real initial friendships. +A child before puberty has playmates. After puberty he has friends and +enemies. + +A whole new field of passional relationship. And the old bonds +relaxing, the old love retreating. The father and mother bonds now +relax, though they never break. The family love wanes, though it never +dies. + +It is the hour of the stranger. Let the stranger now enter the soul. + +And it is the first hour of true individuality, the first hour of +genuine, responsible solitariness. A child knows the abyss of +forlornness. But an adolescent alone knows the strange pain of growing +into his own isolation of individuality. + +All this change is an agony and a bliss. It is a cataclysm and a new +world. It is our most serious hour, perhaps. And yet we cannot be +responsible for it. + +Now sex comes into active being. Until puberty, sex is submerged, +nascent, incipient only. After puberty, it is a tremendous factor. + +What is sex, really? We can never say, satisfactorily. But we know so +much: we know that it is a dynamic polarity between human beings, and +a circuit of force _always_ flowing. The psychoanalyst is right so +far. There can be no vivid relation between two adult individuals +which does not consist in a dynamic polarized flow of vitalistic force +or magnetism or electricity, call it what you will, between these two +people. Yet is this dynamic flow inevitably sexual in nature? + +This is the moot point for psychoanalysis. But let us look at sex, in +its obvious manifestation. The _sexual_ relation between man and woman +consummates in the act of coition. Now what is the act of coition? We +know its functional purpose of procreation. But, after all our +experience and all our poetry and novels we know that the procreative +purpose of sex is, to the individual man and woman, just a side-show. +To the individual, the act of coition is a great psychic experience, a +vital experience of tremendous importance. On this vital individual +experience the life and very being of the individual largely depends. + +But what is the experience? Untellable. Only, we know something. We +know that in the act of coition the _blood_ of the individual man, +acutely surcharged with intense vital electricity--we know no word, so +say "electricity," by analogy--rises to a culmination, in a tremendous +magnetic urge towards the magnetic blood of the female. The whole of +the living blood in the two individuals forms a field of intense, +polarized magnetic attraction. So, the two poles must be brought into +contact. In the act of coition, the two seas of blood in the two +individuals, rocking and surging towards contact, as near as possible, +clash into a oneness. A great flash of interchange occurs, like an +electric spark when two currents meet or like lightning out of the +densely surcharged clouds. There is a lightning flash which passes +through the blood of both individuals, there is a thunder of sensation +which rolls in diminishing crashes down the nerves of each--and then +the tension passes. + +The two individuals are separate again. But are they as they were +before? Is the air the same after a thunder-storm as before? No. The +air is as it were new, fresh, tingling with newness. So is the blood +of man and woman after successful coition. After a false coition, like +prostitution, there is not newness but a certain disintegration. + +But after coition, the actual chemical constitution of the blood is so +changed, that usually sleep intervenes, to allow the time for +chemical, biological readjustment through the whole system. + +So, the blood is changed and renewed, refreshed, almost recreated, +like the atmosphere after thunder. Out of the newness of the living +blood pass the new strange waves which beat upon the great dynamic +centers of the nerves: primarily upon the hypogastric plexus and the +sacral ganglion. From these centers rise new impulses, new vision, new +being, rising like Aphrodite from the foam of the new tide of blood. +And so individual life goes on. + +Perhaps, then, we will allow ourselves to say what, in psychic +individual reality, is the act of coition. It is the bringing together +of the surcharged electric blood of the male with the polarized +electric blood of the female, with the result of a tremendous flashing +interchange, which alters the constitution of the blood, and the very +quality of _being_, in both. + +And this, surely, is sex. But is this the whole of sex? That is the +question. + +After coition, we say the blood is renewed. We say that from the new, +finely sparkling blood new thrills pass into the great affective +centers of the lower body, new thrills of feeling, of impulse, of +energy.--And what about these new thrills? + +Now, a new story. The new thrills are passed on to the great upper +centers of the dynamic body. The individual polarity now changes, +within the individual system. The upper centers, cardiac plexus and +cervical plexuses, thoracic ganglion and cervical ganglia now assume +positivity. These, the upper polarized centers, have now the positive +role to play, the solar and the hypogastric plexuses, the lumbar and +the sacral ganglia, these have the submissive, negative role for the +time being. + +And what then? What now, that the upper centers are finely active in +positivity? Now it is a different story. Now there is new vision in +the eyes, new hearing in the ears, new voice in the throat and speech +on the lips. Now the new song rises, the brain tingles to new thought, +the heart craves for new activity. + +The heart craves for new activity. For new _collective_ activity. That +is, for a new polarized connection with other beings, other men. + +Is this new craving for polarized communion with others, this craving +for a new unison, is it sexual, like the original craving for the +woman? Not at all. The whole polarity is different. Now, the positive +poles are the poles of the breast and shoulders and throat, the poles +of activity and full consciousness. Men, being themselves made new +after the act of coition, wish to make the world new. A new, +passionate polarity springs up between men who are bent on the same +activity, the polarity between man and woman sinks to passivity. It is +now daytime, and time to forget sex, time to be busy making a new +world. + +Is this new polarity, this new circuit of passion between comrades and +co-workers, is this also sexual? It is a vivid circuit of polarized +passion. Is it hence sex? + +It is not. Because what are the poles of positive connection?--the +upper, busy poles. What is the dynamic contact?--a unison in spirit, +in understanding, and a pure commingling in one great _work_. A +mingling of the individual passion into one great _purpose_. Now this +is also a grand consummation for men, this mingling of many with one +great impassioned purpose. But is this sex? Knowing what sex is, can +we call this other also sex? We cannot. + +This meeting of many in one great passionate purpose is not sex, and +should never be confused with sex. It is a great motion in the +opposite direction. And I am sure that the ultimate, greatest desire +in men is this desire for great _purposive_ activity. When man loses +his deep sense of purposive, creative activity, he feels lost, and is +lost. When he makes the sexual consummation the supreme consummation, +even in his _secret_ soul, he falls into the beginnings of despair. +When he makes woman, or the woman and child the great center of life +and of life-significance, he falls into the beginnings of despair. + +Man must bravely stand by his own soul, his own responsibility as the +creative vanguard of life. And he must also have the courage to go +home to his woman and become a perfect answer to her deep sexual call. +But he must never confuse his two issues. Primarily and supremely man +is _always_ the pioneer of life, adventuring onward into the unknown, +alone with his own temerarious, dauntless soul. Woman for him exists +only in the twilight, by the camp fire, when day has departed. Evening +and the night are hers. + +The psychoanalysts, driving us back to the sexual consummation always, +do us infinite damage. + +We have to break away, back to the great unison of manhood in some +passionate _purpose_. Now this is not like sex. Sex is always +individual. A man has his own sex: nobody else's. And sexually he goes +as a single individual; he can mingle only singly. So that to make sex +a general affair is just a perversion and a lie. You can't get people +and talk to them about their sex, as if it were a common interest. + +We have got to get back to the great purpose of manhood, a passionate +unison in actively making a world. This is a real commingling of many. +And in such a commingling we forfeit the individual. In the +commingling of sex we are alone with _one_ partner. It is an +individual affair, there is no superior or inferior. But in the +commingling of a passionate purpose, each individual sacredly abandons +his individual. In the living faith of his soul, he surrenders his +individuality to the great urge which is upon him. He may have to +surrender his name, his fame, his fortune, his life, everything. But +once a man, in the integrity of his own individual soul, _believes_, +he surrenders his own individuality to his belief, and becomes one of +a united body. He knows what he does. He makes the surrender +honorably, in agreement with his own soul's deepest desire. But he +surrenders, and remains responsible for the purity of his surrender. + +But what if he believes that his sexual consummation is his supreme +consummation? Then he serves the great purpose to which he pledges +himself only as long as it pleases him. After which he turns it down, +and goes back to sex. With sex as the one accepted prime motive, the +world drifts into despair and anarchy. + +Of all countries, America has most to fear from anarchy, even from one +single moment's lapse into anarchy. The old nations are _organically_ +fixed into classes, but America not. You can shake Europe to atoms. +And yet peasants fall back to peasantry, artisans to industrial labor, +upper classes to their control--inevitably. But can you say the same +of America? + +America must not lapse for one single moment into anarchy. It would be +the end of her. She must drift no nearer to anarchy. She is near +enough. + +Well, then, Americans must make a choice. It is a choice between +belief in man's creative, spontaneous soul, and man's automatic power +of production and reproduction. It is a choice between serving _man_, +or woman. It is a choice between yielding the soul to a leader, +leaders, or yielding only to the woman, wife, mistress, or mother. + +The great collective passion of belief which brings men together, +comrades and co-workers, passionately obeying their soul-chosen leader +or leaders, this is not a sex passion. Not in any sense. Sex holds +any _two_ people together, but it tends to disintegrate society, +unless it is subordinated to the great dominating male passion of +collective _purpose_. + +But when the sex passion submits to the great purposive passion, then +you have fulness. And no great purposive passion can endure long +unless it is established upon the fulfillment in the vast majority of +individuals of the true sexual passion. No great motive or ideal or +social principle can endure for any length of time unless based upon +the sexual fulfillment of the vast majority of individuals concerned. + +It cuts both ways. Assert sex as the predominant fulfillment, and you +get the collapse of living purpose in man. You get anarchy. Assert +_purposiveness_ as the one supreme and pure activity of life, and you +drift into barren sterility, like our business life of to-day, and our +political life. You become sterile, you make anarchy inevitable. And +so there you are. You have got to base your great purposive activity +upon the intense sexual fulfillment of all your individuals. That was +how Egypt endured. But you have got to keep your sexual fulfillment +even then subordinate, just subordinate to the great passion of +purpose: subordinate by a hair's breadth only: but still, by that +hair's breadth, subordinate. + +Perhaps we can see now a little better--to go back to the child--where +Freud is wrong in attributing a sexual motive to all human activity. +It is obvious there is no real sexual motive in a child, for example. +The great sexual centers are not even awake. True, even in a child of +three, rudimentary sex throws strange shadows on the wall, in its +approach from the distance. But these are only an uneasy intrusion +from the as-yet-uncreated, unready biological centers. The great +sexual centers of the hypogastric plexus, and the immensely powerful +sacral ganglion are slowly prepared, developed in a kind of prenatal +gestation during childhood before puberty. But even an unborn child +kicks in the womb. So do the great sex-centers give occasional blind +kicks in a child. It is part of the phenomenon of childhood. But we +must be most careful not to charge these rather unpleasant apparitions +or phenomena against the individual boy or girl. We must be _very_ +careful not to drag the matter into mental consciousness. Shoo it +away. Reprimand it with a pah! and a faugh! and a bit of contempt. But +do not get into any heat or any fear. Do not startle a passional +attention. Drive the whole thing away like the shadow it is, and be +_very_ careful not to drive it into the consciousness. Be very careful +to plant no seed of burning shame or horror. Throw over it merely the +cold water of contemptuous indifference, dismissal. + +After puberty, a child may as well be told the simple and necessary +facts of sex. As things stand, the parent may as well do it. But +briefly, coldly, and with as cold a dismissal as possible.--"Look +here, you're not a child any more; you know it, don't you? You're +going to be a man. And you know what that means. It means you're going +to marry a woman later on, and get children. You know it, and I know +it. But in the meantime, leave yourself alone. I know you'll have a +lot of bother with yourself, and your feelings. I know what is +happening to you. And I know you get excited about it. But you +needn't. Other men have all gone through it. So don't you go creeping +off by yourself and doing things on the sly. It won't do you any +good.--I know what you'll do, because we've all been through it. I +know the thing will keep coming on you at night. But remember that I +know. Remember. And remember that I want you to leave yourself alone. +I know what it is, I tell you. I've been through it all myself. You've +got to go through these years, before you find a woman you want to +marry, and whom you can marry. I went through them myself, and got +myself worked up a good deal more than was good for me.--Try to +contain yourself. Always try to contain yourself, and be a man. That's +the only thing. Always try and be manly, and quiet in yourself. +Remember I know what it is. I've been the same, in the same state that +you are in. And probably I've behaved more foolishly and perniciously +than ever you will. So come to me if anything _really_ bothers you. +And don't feel sly and secret. I do know just what you've got and what +you haven't. I've been as bad and perhaps worse than you. And the only +thing I want of you is to be manly. Try and be manly, and quiet in +yourself." + +That is about as much as a father can say to a boy, at puberty. You +have to be _very_ careful what you do: especially if you are a parent. +To translate sex into mental ideas is vile, to make a scientific fact +of it is death. + +As a matter of fact there should be some sort of initiation into true +adult consciousness. Boys should be taken away from their mothers and +sisters as much as possible at adolescence. They should be given into +some real manly charge. And there should be some actual initiation +into sex life. Perhaps like the savages, who make the boy die again, +symbolically, and pull him forth through some narrow aperture, to be +born again, and make him suffer and endure terrible hardships, to make +a great dynamic effect on the consciousness, a terrible dynamic sense +of change in the very being. In short, a long, violent initiation, +from which the lad emerges emaciated, but cut off forever from +childhood, entered into the serious, responsible pale of manhood. And +with his whole consciousness convulsed by a great change, as his +dynamic psyche actually is convulsed.--And something in the same way, +to initiate girls into womanhood. + +There should be the intense dynamic reaction: the physical suffering +and the physical realization sinking deep into the soul, changing the +soul for ever. Sex should come upon us as a terrible thing of +suffering and privilege and mystery: a mysterious metamorphosis come +upon us, and a new terrible power given us, and a new responsibility. +Telling?--What's the good of telling?--The mystery, the terror, and +the tremendous power of sex should never be explained away. The mass +of mankind should _never_ be acquainted with the scientific biological +facts of sex: _never_. The mystery must remain in its dark secrecy, +and its dark, powerful dynamism. The reality of sex lies in the great +dynamic convulsions in the soul. And as such it should be realized, a +great creative-convulsive seizure upon the soul.--To make it a matter +of test-tube mixtures, chemical demonstrations and trashy lock-and-key +symbols is just blasting. Even more sickening is the line: "You see, +dear, one day you'll love a man as I love Daddy, more than anything +else in the _whole_ world. And then, dear, I hope you'll marry him. +Because if you do you'll be happy, and I want you to be happy, my +love. And so I hope you'll marry the man you really love (kisses the +child).--And then, darling, there will come a lot of things you know +nothing about now. You'll want to have a dear little baby, won't you, +darling? Your own dear little baby. And your husband's as well. +Because it'll be his, too. You know that, don't you, dear? It will be +born from both of you. And you don't know how, do you? Well, it will +come from right inside you, dear, out of your own inside. You came +out of mother's inside, etc., etc." + +But I suppose there's really nothing else to be done, given the world +and society as we've got them now. The mother is doing her best. + +But it is all wrong. It is wrong to make sex appear as if it were part +of the dear-darling-love smarm: the spiritual love. It is even worse +to take the scientific test-tube line. It all kills the great +effective dynamism of life, and substitutes the mere ash of mental +ideas and tricks. + +The scientific fact of sex is no more sex than a skeleton is a man. +Yet you'd think twice before you stock a skeleton in front of a lad +and said, "You see, my boy, this is what you are when you come to know +yourself."--And the ideal, lovey-dovey "explanation" of sex as +something wonderful and extra lovey-dovey, a bill-and-coo process of +obtaining a sweet little baby--or else "God made us so that we must do +this, to bring another dear little baby to life"--well, it just makes +one sick. It is disastrous to the deep sexual life. But perhaps that +is what we want. + +When humanity comes to its senses it will realize what a fearful Sodom +apple our understanding is. What terrible mouths and stomachs full of +bitter ash we've all got. And then we shall take away "knowledge" and +"understanding," and lock them up along with the rest of poisons, to +be administered in small doses only by competent people. + +We have almost poisoned the mass of humanity to death with +_understanding_. The period of actual death and race-extermination is +not far off. We could have produced the same barrenness and frenzy of +nothingness in people, perhaps, by dinning it into them that every man +is just a charnel-house skeleton of unclean bones. Our "understanding," +our science and idealism have produced in people the same strange frenzy +of self-repulsion as if they saw their own skulls each time they looked +in the mirror. A man is a thing of scientific cause-and-effect and +biological process, draped in an ideal, is he? No wonder he sees the +skeleton grinning through the flesh. + +Our leaders have not loved men: they have loved ideas, and have been +willing to sacrifice passionate men on the altars of the +blood-drinking, ever-ash-thirsty ideal. Has President Wilson, or Karl +Marx, or Bernard Shaw ever felt one hot blood-pulse of love for the +working man, the half-conscious, deluded working man? Never. Each of +these leaders has wanted to abstract him away from his own blood and +being, into some foul Methuselah or abstraction of a man. + +And me? There is no danger of the working man ever reading my books, +so I shan't hurt him that way. But oh, I would like to save him alive, +in his living, spontaneous, original being. I can't help it. It is my +passionate instinct. + +I would like him to give me back the responsibility for general +affairs, a responsibility which he can't acquit, and which saps his +life. I would like him to give me back the responsibility for the +future. I would like him to give me back the responsibility for +thought, for direction. I wish we could take hope and belief together. +I would undertake my share of the responsibility, if he gave me his +belief. + +I would like him to give me back books and newspapers and theories. +And I would like to give him back, in return, his old insouciance, and +rich, original spontaneity and fullness of life. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +PARENT LOVE + + +In the serious hour of puberty, the individual passes into his second +phase of accomplishment. But there cannot be a perfect transition +unless all the activity is in full play in all the first four poles of +the psyche. Childhood is a chrysalis from which each must extricate +himself. And the struggling youth or maid cannot emerge unless by the +energy of all powers; he can never emerge if the whole mass of the +world and the tradition of love hold him back. + +Now we come to the greater peril of our particular form of idealism. +It is the idealism of love and of the spirit: the idealism of +yearning, outgoing love, of pure sympathetic communion and +"understanding." And this idealism recognizes as the highest earthly +love, the love of mother and child. + +And what does this mean? It means, for every delicately brought up +child, indeed for all the children who matter, a steady and +persistent pressure upon the upper sympathetic centers, and a steady +and persistent starving of the lower centers, particularly the great +voluntary center of the lower body. The center of sensual, manly +independence, of exultation in the sturdy, defiant self, willfulness +and masterfulness and pride, this center is steadily suppressed. The +warm, swift, sensual self is steadily and persistently denied, damped, +weakened, throughout all the period of childhood. And by sensual we do +not mean greedy or ugly, we mean the deeper, more impulsive reckless +nature. Life must be always refined and superior. Love and happiness +must be the watchword. The willful, critical element of the spiritual +mode is never absent, the silent, if forbearing disapproval and +distaste is always ready. Vile bullying forbearance. + +With what result? The center of upper sympathy is abnormally, inflamedly +excited; and the centers of will are so deranged that they operate in +jerks and spasms. The true polarity of the sympathetic-voluntary system +within the child is so disturbed as to be almost deranged. Then we have +an exaggerated sensitiveness alternating with a sort of helpless fury: +and we have delicate frail children with nerves or with strange whims. +And we have the strange cold obstinacy of the spiritual will, cold as +hell, fixed in a child. + +Then one parent, usually the mother, is the object of blind devotion, +whilst the other parent, usually the father, is an object of +resistance. The child is taught, however, that both parents should be +loved, and only loved: and that love, gentleness, pity, charity, and +all "higher" emotions, these alone are genuine feelings, all the rest +are false, to be rejected. + +With what result? The upper centers are developed to a degree of +unnatural acuteness and reaction--or again they fall numbed and +barren. And then between parents and children a painfully false +relation grows up: a relation as of two adults, either of two pure +lovers, or of two love-appearing people who are really trying to bully +one another. Instead of leaving the child with its own limited but +deep and incomprehensible feelings, the parent, hopelessly involved in +the sympathetic mode of selfless love, and spiritual love-will, +stimulates the child into a consciousness which does not belong to it, +on the one plane, and robs it of its own spontaneous consciousness and +freedom on the other plane. + +And this is the fatality. Long before puberty, by an exaggeration and +an intensity of spiritual love from the parents, the second centers +of sympathy are artificially aroused into response. And there is an +irreparable disaster. Instead of seeing as a child should see, through +a glass, darkly, the child now opens premature eyes of sympathetic +cognition. Instead of knowing in part, as it should know, it begins, +at a fearfully small age, to know in full. The cervical plexuses and +the cervical ganglia, which should only begin to awake after +adolescence, these centers of the higher dynamic sympathy and +cognition, are both artificially stimulated, by the adult personal +love-emotion and love-will into response, in a quite young child, +sometimes even in an infant. This is a holy obscenity. + +Our particular mode of idealism causes us to suppress as far as +possible the sensual centers, to make them negative. The whole of the +activity is concentrated, as far as possible, in the upper or +spiritual centers, the centers of the breast and throat, which we will +call the centers of dynamic cognition, in contrast to the centers of +sensual comprehension below the diaphragm. + +And then a child arrives at puberty, with its upper nature already +roused into precocious action. The child nowadays is almost invariably +precocious in "understanding." In the north, spiritually precocious, +so that by the time it arrives at adolescence it already has +experienced the extended sympathetic reactions which should have lain +utterly dark. And it has experienced these extended reactions with +whom? With the parent or parents. + +Which is man devouring his own offspring. For to the parents belongs, +once and for all, the dynamic reaction on the first plane of +consciousness only, the reaction and relationship at the first four +poles of dynamic consciousness. When the second, the farther plane of +consciousness rouses into action, the relationship is with strangers. +All human instinct and all ethnology will prove this to us. What +sex-instinct there is in a child is always _adverse_ to the parents. + +But also, the parents are all too quick. They all proceed to swallow +their children before the children can get out of their clutches. And +even if parents do send away their children at the age of puberty--to +school or elsewhere--it is not much good. The mischief has been done +before. For the first twelve years the parents and the whole community +forcibly insist on the child's living from the upper centers only, and +particularly the upper sympathetic centers, without the balance of the +warm, deep sensual self. Parents and community alike insist on +rousing an adult sympathetic response, and a mental answer in the +child-schools, Sunday-schools, books, home-influence--all works in +this one pernicious way. But it is the home, the parents, that work +most effectively and intensely. There is the most intimate mesh of +love, love-bullying, and "understanding" in which a child is +entangled. + +So that a child arrives at the age of puberty already stripped of its +childhood's darkness, bound, and delivered over. Instead of waking now +to a whole new field of consciousness, a whole vast and wonderful new +dynamic impulse towards new connections, it finds itself fatally +bound. Puberty accomplishes itself. The hour of sex strikes. But there +is your child, bound, helpless. You have already aroused in it the +dynamic response to your own insatiable love-will. You have already +established between your child and yourself the dynamic relation in +the further plane of consciousness. You have got your child as sure as +if you had woven its flesh again with your own. You have done what it +is vicious for any parent to do: you have established between your +child and yourself the bond of adult love: the love of man for man, +woman for woman, or man for woman. All your tenderness, your +cherishing will not excuse you. It only deepens your guilt. You have +established between your child and yourself the bond of further +sympathy. I do not speak of sex. I speak of pure sympathy, sacred +love. The parents establish between themselves and their child the +bond of the higher love, the further spiritual love, the sympathy of +the adult soul. + +And this is fatal. It is a sort of incest. It is a dynamic _spiritual_ +incest, more dangerous than sensual incest, because it is more +intangible and less instinctively repugnant. But let psychoanalysis +fall into what discredit it may, it has done us this great service of +proving to us that the intense upper sympathy, indeed the dynamic +relation either of love-will or love-sympathy, between parent and +child, upon the upper plane, inevitably involves us in a conclusion of +incest. + +For although it is our aim to establish a purely spiritual dynamic +relation on the upper plane only, yet, because of the inevitable +polarity of the human psychic system, we shall arouse at the same time +a dynamic sensual activity on the lower plane, the deeper sensual +plane. We may be as pure as angels, and yet, being human, this will +and must inevitably happen. When Mrs. Ruskin said that John Ruskin +should have married his mother she spoke the truth. He _was_ married +to his mother. For in spite of all our intention, all our creed, all +our purity, all our desire and all our will, once we arouse the +dynamic relation in the upper, higher plane of love, we inevitably +evoke a dynamic consciousness on the lower, deeper plane of sensual +love. And then what? + +Of course, parents can reply that their love, however intense, is +pure, and has absolutely no sensual element. Maybe--and maybe not. But +admit that it is so. It does not help. The intense excitement of the +upper centers of sympathy willy-nilly arouses the lower centers. It +arouses them to activity, even if it denies them any expression or any +polarized connection. Our psyche is so framed that activity aroused on +one plane provokes activity on the corresponding plane, automatically. +So the intense _pure_ love-relation between parent and child +inevitably arouses the lower centers in the child, the centers of sex. +Now the deeper sensual centers, once aroused, should find response +from the sensual body of some other, some friend or lover. The +response is impossible between parent and child. Myself, I believe +that biologically there is radical sex-aversion between parent and +child, at the deeper sensual centers. The sensual circuit _cannot_ +adjust itself spontaneously between the two. + +So what have you? Child and parent intensely linked in adult +love-sympathy and love-will, on the upper plane, and in the child, the +deeper sensual centers aroused, but finding no correspondent, no +objective, no polarized connection with another person. There they +are, the powerful centers of sex, acting spasmodically, without +balance. They must be polarized somehow. So they are polarized to the +active upper centers within the child, and you get an introvert. + +This is how introversion begins. The lower sexual centers are aroused. +They find no sympathy, no connection, no response from outside, no +expression. They are dynamically polarized by the upper centers within +the individual. That is, the whole of the sexual or deeper sensual +flow goes on upwards in the individual, to his own upper, from his own +lower centers. The upper centers hold the lower in positive polarity. +The flow goes on upwards. There _must_ be some reaction. And so you +get, first and foremost, self-consciousness, an intense consciousness +in the upper self of the lower self. This is the first disaster. Then +you get the upper body exploiting the lower body. You get the hands +exploiting the sensual body, in feeling, fingering, and in +masturbation. You get a pornographic longing with regard to the self. +You get the obscene post cards which most youths possess. You get the +absolute lust for dirty stories, which so many men have. And you get +various mild sex perversions, such as masturbation, and so on. + +What does all this mean? It means that the activity of the lower +psyche and lower body is polarized by the upper body. Eyes and ears +want to gather sexual activity and knowledge. The mind becomes full of +sex: and always, in an introvert, of his _own_ sex. If we examine the +apparent extroverts, like the flaunting Italian, we shall see the same +thing. It is his own sex which obsesses him. + +And to-day what have we but this? Almost inevitably we find in a child +now an intense, precocious, secret sexual preoccupation. The upper +self is rabidly engaged in exploiting the lower self. A child and its +own roused, inflamed sex, its own shame and masturbation, its own +cruel, secret sexual excitement and sex _curiosity_, this is the +greatest tragedy of our day. The child does not so much want to _act_ +as to _know_. The thought of actual sex connection is usually +repulsive. There is an aversion from the normal coition act. But the +craving to feel, to see, to taste, to _know_, mentally in the head, +this is insatiable. Anything, so that the sensation and experience +shall come through the _upper_ channels. This is the secret of our +introversion and our perversion to-day. Anything rather than +spontaneous direct action from the sensual self. Anything rather than +the merely normal passion. Introduce any trick, any idea, any mental +element you can into sex, but make it an affair of the upper +consciousness, the mind and eyes and mouth and fingers. This is our +vice, our dirt, our disease. + +And the adult, and the ideal are to blame. But the tragedy of our +children, in their inflamed, solitary sexual excitement, distresses us +beyond any blame. + +It is time to drop the word love, and more than time to drop the ideal +of love. Every frenzied individual is told to find fulfillment in +love. So he tries. Whereas, there is no fulfillment in love. Half of +our fulfillment comes _through_ love, through strong, sensual love. +But the central fulfillment, for a man, is that he possess his own +soul in strength within him, deep and alone. The deep, rich aloneness, +reached and perfected through love. And the passing beyond any further +_quest_ of love. + +This central fullness of self-possession is our goal, if goal there be +any. But there are two great _ways_ of fulfillment. The first, the way +of fulfillment through complete love, complete, passionate, deep love. +And the second, the greater, the fulfillment through the +accomplishment of religious purpose, the soul's earnest purpose. We +work the love way falsely, from the upper self, and work it to death. +The second way, of active unison in strong purpose, and in faith, this +we only sneer at. + +But to return to the child and the parent. The coming to the +fulfillment of single aloneness, through love, is made impossible for +us by the ideal, the monomania of more love. At the very _age +dangereuse_, when a woman should be accomplishing her own fulfillment +into maturity and rich quiescence, she turns rabidly to seek a new +lover. At the very crucial time when she should be coming to a state +of pure equilibrium and rest with her husband, she turns rabidly +against rest or peace or equilibrium or husband in any shape or form, +and demands more love, more love, a new sort of lover, one who will +"understand" her. And as often as not she turns to her son. + +It is true, a woman reaches her goal of fulfillment through feeling. +But through being "understood" she reaches nowhere, unless the lover +understands what a vice it is for a woman to get herself and her sex +into her head. A woman reaches her fulfillment through love, deep +sensual love, and exquisite sensitive communion. But once she reaches +the point of fulfillment, she should not break off to ask for more +excitements. She should take the beauty of maturity and peace and +quiet faithfulness upon her. + +This she won't do, however, unless the man, her husband, goes on +beyond her. When a man approaches the beginning of maturity and the +fulfillment of his individual self, about the age of thirty-five, then +is not his time to come to rest. On the contrary. Deeply fulfilled +through marriage, and at one with his own soul, he must now undertake +the responsibility for the next step into the future. He must now give +himself perfectly to some further purpose, some passionate purposive +activity. Till a man makes the great resolution of aloneness and +singleness of being, till he takes upon himself the silence and +central appeasedness of maturity; and _then, after this_, assumes a +sacred responsibility for the next purposive step into the future, +there is no rest. The great resolution of aloneness and appeasedness, +and the further deep assumption of responsibility in purpose--this is +necessary to every parent, every father, every husband, at a certain +point. If the resolution is never made, the responsibility never +embraced, then the love-craving will run on into frenzy, and lay waste +to the family. In the woman particularly the love-craving will run on +to frenzy and disaster. + +Seeking, seeking the fulfillment in the deep passional self; diseased +with self-consciousness and sex in the head, foiled by the very loving +weakness of the husband who has not the courage to withdraw into his +own stillness and singleness, and put the wife under the spell of his +fulfilled decision; the unhappy woman beats about for her insatiable +satisfaction, seeking whom she may devour. And usually, she turns to +her child. Here she provokes what she wants. Here, in her own son who +belongs to her, she seems to find the last perfect response for which +she is craving. He is a medium to her, she provokes from him her own +answer. So she throws herself into a last great love for her son, a +final and fatal devotion, that which would have been the richness and +strength of her husband and is poison to her boy. The husband, +irresolute, never accepting his own higher responsibility, bows and +accepts. And the fatal round of introversion and "complex" starts once +more. If man will never accept his own ultimate being, his final +aloneness, and his last responsibility for life, then he must expect +woman to dash from disaster to disaster, rootless and uncontrolled. + +"_On revient toujours a son premier amour._" It sounds like a cynicism +to-day. As if we really meant: "_On ne revient jamais a son premier +amour._" But as a matter of fact, a man never leaves his first love, +once the love is established. He may leave his first attempt at love. +Once a man establishes a full dynamic communication at the deeper and +the higher centers, with a woman, this can never be broken. But sex in +the head breaks down, and half circuits break down. Once the full +circuit is established, however, this can never break down. + +Nowadays, alas, we start off self-conscious, with sex in the head. We +find a woman who is the same. We marry because we are "pals." The sex +is a rather nasty fiasco. We keep up a pretense of "pals"--and nice +love. Sex spins wilder in the head than ever. There is either a +family of children whom the dissatisfied parents can devote themselves +to, thereby perverting the miserable little creatures: or else there +is a divorce. And at the great dynamic centers nothing has happened at +all. Blank nothing. There has been no vital interchange at all in the +whole of this beautiful marriage affair. + +Establish between yourself and another individual a dynamic connection +at only _two_ of the four further poles, and you will have the devil +of a job to break the connection. Especially if it be the first +connection you have made. Especially if the other individual be the +first in the field. + +This is the case of the parents. Parents are first in the field of the +child's further consciousness. They are criminal trespassers in that +field. But that makes no matter. They are first in the field. They +establish a dynamic connection between the two upper centers, the +centers of the throat, the centers of the higher dynamic sympathy and +cognition. They establish this circuit. And break it if you can. Very +often not even death can break it. + +And as we see, the establishment of the upper love-and-cognition +circuit inevitably provokes the lower sex-sensual centers into action, +even though there be no correspondence on the sensual plane between +the two individuals concerned. Then see what happens. If you want to +see the real desirable wife-spirit, look at a mother with her boy of +eighteen. How she serves him, how she stimulates him, how her true +female self is his, is wife-submissive to him as never, never it could +be to a husband. This is the quiescent, flowering love of a mature +woman. It is the very flower of a woman's love: sexually asking +nothing, asking nothing of the beloved, save that he shall be himself, +and that for his living he shall accept the gift of her love. This is +the perfect flower of married love, which a husband should put in his +cap as he goes forward into the future in his supreme activity. For +the husband, it is a great pledge, and a blossom. For the son also it +seems wonderful. The woman now feels for the first time as a true wife +might feel. And her feeling is towards her son. + +Or, instead of mother and son, read father and daughter. + +And then what? The son gets on swimmingly for a time, till he is faced +with the actual fact of sex necessity. He gleefully inherits his +adolescence and the world at large, without an obstacle in his way, +mother-supported, mother-loved. Everything comes to him in glamour, +he feels he sees wondrous much, understands a whole heaven, +mother-stimulated. Think of the power which a mature woman thus +infuses into her boy. He flares up like a flame in oxygen. No wonder +they say geniuses mostly have great mothers. They mostly have sad +fates. + +And then?--and then, with this glamorous youth? What is he actually to +do with his sensual, sexual self? Bury it? Or make an effort with a +stranger? For he is taught, even by his mother, that his manhood must +not forego sex. Yet he is linked up in ideal love already, the best he +will ever know. + +No woman will give to a stranger that which she gives to her son, her +father or her brother: that beautiful and glamorous submission which +is truly the wife-submission. To a stranger, a husband, a woman +insists on being queen, goddess, mistress, the positive, the adored, +the first and foremost and the one and only. This she will not ask +from her near blood-kin. Of her blood-kin, there is always one she +will love devotedly. + +And so, the charming young girl who adores her father, or one of her +brothers, is sought in marriage by the attractive young man who loves +his mother devotedly. And a pretty business the marriage is. We can't +think of it. Of course they may be good pals. It's the only thing +left. + +And there we are. The game is spoilt before it is begun. Within the +circle of the family, owing to our creed of insatiable love, intense +adult sympathies are provoked in quite young children. In Italy, the +Italian stimulates adult sex-consciousness and sex-sympathy in his +child, almost deliberately. But with us, it is usually spiritual +sympathy and spiritual criticism. The adult experiences are provoked, +the adult devotional sympathies are linked up, prematurely, as far as +the child is concerned. We have the heart-wringing spectacle of +intense parent-child love, a love intense as the love of man and +woman, but not sexual; or else the great brother-sister devotion. And +thus, the great love-experience which should lie in the future is +forestalled. Within the family, the love-bond forms quickly, without +the shocks and ruptures inevitable between strangers. And so, it is +easiest, intensest--and seems the best. It seems the highest. You will +not easily get a man to believe that his carnal love for the woman he +has made his wife is as high a love as that he felt for his mother or +sister. + +The cream is licked off from life before the boy or the girl is +twenty. Afterwards--repetition, disillusion, and barrenness. + +And the cause?--always the same. That parents will not make the great +resolution to come to rest within themselves, to possess their own +souls in quiet and fullness. The man has not the courage to withdraw +at last into his own soul's stillness and aloneness, and _then_, +passionately and faithfully, to strive for the living future. The +woman has not the courage to give up her hopeless insistence on love +and her endless demand for love, demand of being loved. She has not +the greatness of soul to relinquish her own self-assertion, and +believe in the man who believes in himself and in his own soul's +efforts:--if there _are_ any such men nowadays, which is very +doubtful. + +Alas, alas, the future! Your son, who has tasted the real beauty of +wife-response in his mother or sister. Your daughter, who adores her +brother, and who marries some woman's son. They are so charming to +look at, such a lovely couple. And at first it is all such a good +game, such good sport. Then each one begins to fret for the beauty of +the lost, non-sexual, partial relationship. The sexual part of +marriage has proved so--so empty. While that other loveliest +thing--the poignant touch of devotion felt for mother or father or +brother--why, this is missing altogether. The best is missing. The +rest isn't worth much. Ah well, such is life. Settle down to it, and +bring up the children carefully to more of the same.--The +future!--You've had all your good days by the time you're twenty. + +And, I ask you, what good will psychoanalysis do you in this state of +affairs? Introduce an extra sex-motive to excite you for a bit and +make you feel how thrillingly immoral things really are. And then--it +all goes flat again. Father complex, mother complex, incest dreams: +pah, when we've had the little excitement out of them we shall forget +them as we have forgotten so many other catch-words. And we shall be +just where we were before: unless we are worse, with _more_ sex in the +head, and more introversion, only more brazen. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE VICIOUS CIRCLE + + +Here is a very vicious circle. And how to get out of it? In the first +place, we have to break the love-ideal, once and for all. Love, as we +see, is not the only dynamic. Taking love in its greatest sense, and +making it embrace every form of sympathy, every flow from the great +sympathetic centers of the human body, still it is not the whole of +the dynamic flow, it is only the one-half. There is always the other +voluntary flow to reckon with, the intense motion of independence and +singleness of self, the pride of isolation, and the profound +fulfillment through power. + +The very first thing of all to be recognized is the danger of +idealism. It is the one besetting sin of the human race. It means the +fall into automatism, mechanism, and nullity. + +We know that life issues spontaneously at the great nodes of the +psyche, the great nerve-centers. At first these are four only: then, +after puberty, they become eight: later there may still be an +extension of the dynamic consciousness, a further polarization. But +eight is enough at the moment. + +First at four, and then at eight dynamic centers of the human body, +the human nervous system, life starts spontaneously into being. The +soul bursts day by day into fresh impulses, fresh desire, fresh +purpose, at these our polar centers. And from these dynamic generative +centers issue the vital currents which put us into connection with our +object. We have really no will and no choice, in the first place. It +is our soul which acts within us, day by day unfolding us according to +our own nature. + +From the objective circuits and from the subjective circuits which +establish and fulfill themselves at the first four centers of +consciousness we derive our first being, our child-being, and also our +first mind, our child-mind. By the objective circuits we mean those +circuits which are established between the self and some external +object: mother, father, sister, cat, dog, bird, or even tree or plant, +or even further still, some particular place, some particular +inanimate object, a knife or a chair or a cap or a doll or a wooden +horse. For we must insist that every object which really enters +effectively into our lives does so by direct connection. If I love my +mother, it is because there is established between me and her a +direct, powerful circuit of vital magnetism, call it what you will, +but a direct flow of dynamic _vital_ interchange and intercourse. I +will not call this vital flow a _force_, because it depends on the +incomprehensible initiative and control of the individual soul or +self. Force is that which is directed only from some universal will or +law. Life is _always_ individual, and therefore never controlled by +one law, one God. And therefore, since the living really sway the +universe, even if unknowingly; therefore there is no one universal +law, even for the physical forces. Because we insist that even the sun +depends, for its heartbeat, its respiration, its pivotal motion, on +the beating hearts of men and beast, on the dynamic of the +soul-impulse in individual creatures. It is from the aggregate +heartbeat of living individuals, of we know not how many or what sort +of worlds, that the sun rests stable. + +Which may be dismissed as metaphysics, although it is quite as valid +or even as demonstrable as Newton's Law of Gravitation, which law +still remains a law, even if not quite so absolute as heretofore. + +But this is a digression. The argument is, that between an individual +and any external object with which he has an affective connection, +there exists a definite vital flow, as definite and concrete as the +electric current whose polarized circuit sets our tram-cars running +and our lamps shining, or our Marconi wires vibrating. Whether this +object be human, or animal, or plant, or quite inanimate, there is +still a circuit. My dog, my canary has a polarized connection with me. +Nay, the very cells in the ash-tree I loved as a child had a dynamic +vibratory connection with the nuclei in my own centers of primary +consciousness. And further still, the boots I have worn are so +saturated with my own magnetism, my own vital activity, that if anyone +else wear them I feel it is a trespass, almost as if another man used +my hand to knock away a fly. I doubt very much if a blood-hound, when +it takes a scent, _smells_, in our sense of the word. It receives at +the infinitely sensitive telegraphic center of the dog's nostrils the +vital vibration which remains in the inanimate object from the +individual with whom the object was associated. I should like to know +if a dog would trace a pair of quite new shoes which had merely been +dragged at the end of a string. That is, does he follow the smell of +the leather itself, or the vibration track of the individual whose +vitality is communicated to the leather? + +So, there is a definite vibratory rapport between a man and his +surroundings, once he definitely gets into contact with these +surroundings. Any particular locality, any house which has been lived +in has a vibration, a transferred vitality of its own. This is either +sympathetic or antipathetic to the succeeding individual in varying +degree. But certain it is that the inhabitants who live at the foot of +Etna will always have a certain pitch of life-vibration, antagonistic +to the pitch of vibration even of a Palermitan, in some measure. And +old houses are saturated with human presence, at last to a degree of +indecency, unbearable. And tradition, in its most elemental sense, +means the continuing of the same peculiar pitch of vital vibration. + +Such is the objective dynamic flow between the psychic poles of the +individual and the substance of the external object, animate or +inanimate. The subjective dynamic flow is established between the four +primary poles within the individual. Every dynamic connection begins +from one or the other of the sympathetic centers: is, or should be, +almost immediately polarized from the corresponding voluntary center. +Then a complete flow is set up, in one plane. But this always rouses +the activity on the other, corresponding plane, more or less intense. +There is a whole field of consciousness established, with positive +polarity of the first plane, negative polarity of the second. Which +being so, a whole fourfold field of dynamic consciousness now working +within the individual, direct cognition takes place. The mind begins +to know, and to strive to know. + +The business of the mind is first and foremost the pure joy of knowing +and comprehending the pure joy of consciousness. The second business +is to act as medium, as interpreter, as agent between the individual +and his object. The mind should _not_ act as a director or controller +of the spontaneous centers. These the soul alone must control: the +soul being that forever unknowable reality which causes us to rise +into being. There is continual conflict between the soul, which is for +ever sending forth incalculable impulses, and the psyche, which is +conservative, and wishes to persist in its old motions, and the mind, +which wishes to have "freedom," that is spasmodic, idea-driven +control. Mind, and conservative psyche, and the incalculable soul, +these three are a trinity of powers in every human being. But there is +something even beyond these. It is the individual in his pure +singleness, in his totality of consciousness, in his oneness of being: +the Holy Ghost which is with us after our Pentecost, and which we may +not deny. When I say to myself: "I am wrong," knowing with sudden +insight that I _am_ wrong, then this is the whole self speaking, the +Holy Ghost. It is no piece of mental inference. It is not just the +soul sending forth a flash. It is my whole being speaking in one +voice, soul and mind and psyche transfigured into oneness. This voice +of my being I may _never_ deny. When at last, in all my storms, my +whole self speaks, then there is a pause. The soul collects itself +into pure silence and isolation--perhaps after much pain. The mind +suspends its knowledge, and waits. The psyche becomes strangely still. +And then, after the pause, there is fresh beginning, a new life +adjustment. Conscience is the being's consciousness, when the +individual is conscious _in toto_, when he knows in full. It is +something which includes and which far surpasses mental consciousness. +Every man must live as far as he can by his own soul's conscience. +But not according to any ideal. To submit the conscience to a creed, +or an idea, or a tradition, or even an impulse, is our ruin. + +To make the mind the absolute ruler is as good as making a Cook's +tourist-interpreter a king and a god, because he can speak several +languages, and make an Arab understand that an Englishman wants fish +for supper. And to make an ideal a ruling principle is about as stupid +as if a bunch of travelers should never cease giving each other and +their dragoman sixpence, because the dragoman's main idea of virtue is +the virtue of sixpence-giving. In the same way, we _know_ we cannot +live purely by impulse. Neither can we live solely by tradition. We +must live by all three, ideal, impulse, and tradition, each in its +hour. But the real guide is the pure conscience, the voice of the self +in its wholeness, the Holy Ghost. + +We have fallen now into the mistake of idealism. Man always falls into +one of the three mistakes. In China, it is tradition. And in the South +Seas, it seems to have been impulse. Ours is idealism. Each of the +three modes is a true life-mode. But any one, alone or dominant, +brings us to destruction. We must depend on the wholeness of our +being, ultimately only on that, which is our Holy Ghost within us. +Whereas, in an ideal of love and benevolence, we have tried to +automatize ourselves into little love-engines always stoked with the +sorrows or beauties of other people, so that we can get up steam of +charity or righteous wrath. A great trick is to pour on the fire the +oil of our indignation at somebody else's wickedness, and then, when +we've got up steam like hell, back the engine and run bish! smash! +against the belly of the offender. Because he said he didn't want to +love any more, we hate him for evermore, and try to run over him, +every bit of him, with our love-tanks. And all the time we yell at +him: "Will you deny love, you villain? Will you?" And by the time he +faintly squeaks, "I want to be loved! I want to be loved!" we have got +so used to running over him with our love-tanks that we don't feel in +a hurry to leave off. + + "_Sois mon frere, ou je te tue._" + "_Sois mon frere, ou je me tue._" + +There are the two parrot-threats of love, on which our loving +centuries have run as on a pair of railway-lines. Excuse me if I want +to get out of the train. Excuse me if I can't get up any love-steam +any more. My boilers are burst. + +We have made a mistake, laying down love like the permanent way of a +great emotional transport system. There we are, however, running on +wheels on the lines of our love. And of course we have only two +directions, forwards and backwards. "Onward, Christian soldiers, +towards the great terminus where bottles of sterilized milk for the +babies are delivered at the bedroom windows by noiseless aeroplanes +each morn, where the science of dentistry is so perfect that teeth are +planted in a man's mouth without his knowing it, where twilight sleep +is so delicious that every woman longs for her next confinement, and +where nobody ever has to do anything except turn a handle now and then +in a spirit of universal love--" That is the forward direction of the +English-speaking race. The Germans unwisely backed their engine. "We +have a city of light. But instead of lying ahead it lies direct behind +us. So reverse engines. Reverse engines, and away, away to our city, +where the sterilized milk is delivered by noiseless aeroplanes, _at +the very precise minute when our great doctors of the Fatherland have +diagnosed that it is good for you_: where the teeth are not only so +painlessly planted that they grow like living rock, but where their +composition is such that the friction of eating stimulates the cells +of the jaw-bone and develops the _superman strength of will which +makes us gods_: and where not only is twilight sleep serene, but into +the sleeper are inculcated the most useful and instructive dreams, +calculated to perfect the character of the young citizen at this +crucial period, and to enlighten permanently the mind of the happy +mother, with regard to her new duties towards her child and towards +our great Fatherland--" + +Here you see we are, on the railway, with New Jerusalem ahead, and New +Jerusalem away behind us. But of course it was very wrong of the +Germans to reverse their engines, and cause one long collision all +along the line. Why should we go _their_ way to the New Jerusalem, +when of course they might so easily have kept on going our way. And +now there's wreckage all along the line! But clear the way is our +motto--or make the Germans clear it. Because get on we will. + +Meanwhile we sit rather in the cold, waiting for the train to get a +start. People keep on signaling with green lights and red lights. And +it's all very bewildering. + +As for me, I'm off. I'm damned if I'll be shunted along any more. And +I'm thrice damned if I'll go another yard towards that sterilized New +Jerusalem, either forwards or backwards. New Jerusalem may rot, if it +waits for me. I'm not going. + +So good-by! There we leave humanity, encamped in an appalling mess +beside the railway-smash of love, sitting down, however, and having +not a bad time, some of 'em, feeding themselves fat on the plunder: +others, further down the line, with mouths green from eating grass. +But all grossly, stupidly, automatically gabbling about getting the +love-service running again, the trains booked for the New Jerusalem +well on the way once more. And occasionally a good engine gives a +screech of love, and something seems to be about to happen. And +sometimes there is enough steam to set the indignation-whistles +whistling. But never any more will there be enough love-steam to get +the system properly running. It is done. + +Good-by, then! You may have laid your line from one end to the other +of the infinite. But still there's plenty of hinterland. I'll go. +Good-by. Ach, it will be so nice to be alone: not to hear you, not to +see you, not to smell you, humanity. I wish you no ill, but wisdom. +Good-by! + +To be alone with one's own soul. Not to be alone without my own soul, +mind you. But to be alone with one's own soul! This, and the joy of +it, is the real goal of love. My own soul, and myself. Not my ego, my +conceit of myself. But my very soul. To be at one in my own self. Not +to be questing any more. Not to be yearning, seeking, hoping, +desiring, aspiring. But to pause, and be alone. + +And to have one's own "gentle spouse" by one's side, of course, to dig +one in the ribs occasionally. Because really, being alone in peace +means being two people together. Two people who can be silent +together, and not conscious of one another outwardly. Me in my +silence, she in hers, and the balance, the equilibrium, the pure +circuit between us. With occasional lapses of course: digs in the ribs +if one gets too vague or self-sufficient. + +They say it is better to travel than to arrive. It's not been my +experience, at least. The journey of love has been rather a +lacerating, if well-worth-it, journey. But to come at last to a nice +place under the trees, with your "amiable spouse" who has at last +learned to hold her tongue and not to bother about rights and wrongs: +her own particularly. And then to pitch a camp, and cook your rabbit, +and eat him: and to possess your own soul in silence, and to feel all +the clamor lapse. That is the best I know. + +I think it is terrible to be young. The ecstasies and agonies of love, +the agonies and ecstasies of fear and doubt and drop-by-drop +fulfillment, realization. The awful process of human relationships, +love and marital relationships especially. Because we all make a very, +very bad start to-day, with our idea of love in our head, and our sex +in our head as well. All the fight till one is bled of one's +self-consciousness and sex-in-the-head. All the bitterness of the +conflict with this devil of an amiable spouse, who has got herself so +stuck in her own head. It is terrible to be young.--But one fights +one's way through it, till one is cleaned: the self-consciousness and +sex-idea burned out of one, cauterized out bit by bit, and the self +whole again, and at last free. + +The best thing I have known is the stillness of accomplished marriage, +when one possesses one's own soul in silence, side by side with the +amiable spouse, and has left off craving and raving and being only +half one's self. But I must say, I know a great deal more about the +craving and raving and sore ribs, than about the accomplishment. And I +must confess that I feel this self-same "accomplishment" of the +fulfilled being is only a preparation for new responsibilities ahead, +new unison in effort and conflict, the effort to make, with other men, +a little new way into the future, and to break through the hedge of +the many. + +But--to your tents, my Israel. And to that precious baby you've left +slumbering there. What I meant to say was, in each phase of life you +have a great circuit of human relationship to establish and fulfill. +In childhood, it is the circuit of family love, established at the +first four consciousness centers, and gradually fulfilling itself, +completing itself. At adolescence, the first circuit of family love +should be completed, dynamically finished. And then, it falls into +quiescence. After puberty, family love should fall quiescent in a +child. The love never breaks. It continues static and basic, the basis +of the emotional psyche, the foundation of the self. It is like the +moon when the moon at last subsides into her eternal orbit, round the +earth. She travels in her orbit so inevitably that she forgets, and +becomes unaware. She only knits her brows over the earth's greater +aberrations in space. + +The circuit of parental love, once fulfilled, is not done away with, +but only established into silence. The child is then free to establish +the new connections, in which he surpasses his parents. And let us +repeat, parents should never try to establish adult relations, of +sympathy or interest or anything else, between themselves and their +children. The attempt to do so only deranges the deep primary circuit +which is the dynamic basis of our living. It is a clambering upwards +only by means of a broken foundation. Parents should remain parents, +children children, for ever, and the great gulf preserved between the +two. Honor thy father and thy mother should always be a leading +commandment. But this can only take place when father and mother keep +their true parental distances, dignity, reserve, and limitation. As +soon as father and mother try to become the _friends_ and _companions_ +of their children, they break the root of life, they rupture the +deepest dynamic circuit of living, they derange the whole flow of life +for themselves and their children. + +For let us reiterate and reiterate: you cannot mingle and confuse the +various modes of dynamic love. If you try, you produce horrors. You +cannot plant the heart below the diaphragm or put an ocular eye in the +navel. No more can you transfer parent love into friend love or adult +love. Parent love is established at the great primary centers, where +man is father and child, playmate and brother, but where he _cannot_ +be comrade or lover. Comrade and lover, this is the dynamic activity +of the further centers, the second four centers. And these second four +centers must be active in the parent, their intense circuit +established even if not fulfilled, long before the child is born. The +circuit of friendship, of personal companionship, of sexual love must +needs be established before the child is begotten, or at least before +it attains to adolescence. These circuits of the extended field are +already fully established in the parent before the centers of +correspondence in the child are even formed. When therefore the four +great centers of the extended consciousness arouses in a child, at +adolescence, they must needs seek a strange complement, a foreign +conjunction. + +Not only is this the case, but the actual dynamic impulse of the new +life which rouses at puberty is _alien_ to the original dynamic flow. +The new wave-length by no means corresponds. The new vibration by no +means harmonizes. Force the two together, and you cause a terrible +frictional excitement and jarring. It is this instinctive recognition +of the different dynamic vibrations from different centers, in +different modes, and in different directions of positive and negative, +which lies at the base of savage taboo. After puberty, members of one +family should be taboo to one another. There should be the most +definite limits to the degree of contact. And mothers-in-law should be +taboo to their daughters' husbands, and fathers-in-law to their sons' +wives. We must again begin to learn the great laws of the first +dynamic life-circuits. These laws we now make havoc of, and +consequently we make havoc of our own soul, psyche, mind and health. + +This book is written primarily concerning the child's consciousness. +It is not intended to enter the field of the post-puberty +consciousness. But yet, the dynamic relation of the child is +established so directly with the physical and psychical soul of the +parent, that to get any inkling of dynamic child-consciousness we must +understand something of parent-consciousness. + +We assert that the parent-child love-mode excludes the possibility of +the man-and-woman, or friend-and-friend love mode. We assert that the +polarity of the first four poles is inconsistent with the polarity of +the second four poles. Nay, between the two great fields is a certain +dynamic opposition, resistance, even antipathy. So that in the natural +course of life there is no possibility of confusing parent love and +adult love. + +But we are mental creatures, and with the explosive and mechanistic +aid of ideas we can pervert the whole psyche. Only, however, in a +destructive degree, not in a positive or constructive. + +Let us return then. In the ordinary course of development, by the time +that the child is born and grown to puberty the whole dynamic soul of +the mother is engaged: first, with the children, and second, on the +further, higher plane, with the husband, and with her own friends. So +that when the child reaches adolescence it must inevitably cast abroad +for connection. + +But now let us remember the actual state of affairs to-day, when the +poles are reversed between the sexes. The woman is now the responsible +party, the law-giver, the culture-bearer. She is the conscious guide +and director of the man. She bears his soul between her two hands. And +her sex is just a function or an instrument of power. This being so, +the man is really the servant and the fount of emotion, love and +otherwise. + +Which is all very well, while the fun lasts. But like all perverted +processes, it is exhaustive, and like the fun wears out. Leaving an +exhaustion, and an irritation. Each looks on the other as a perverter +of life. Almost invariably a married woman, as she passes the age of +thirty, conceives a dislike, or a contempt of her husband, or a pity +which is too near contempt. Particularly if he be a good husband, a +true modern. And he, for his part, though just as jarred inside +himself, resents only the fact that he is not loved as he ought to be. + +Then starts a new game. The woman, even the most virtuous, looks +abroad for new sympathy. She will have a new man-friend, if nothing +more. But as a rule she has got something more. She has got her +children. + +A relation between mother and child to-day is practically _never_ +parental. It is personal--which means, it is critical and deliberate, +and adult in provocation. The mother, in her new role of idealist and +life-manager never, practically for one single moment, gives her child +the unthinking response from the deep dynamic centers. No, she gives +it what is good for it. She shoves milk in its mouth as the clock +strikes, she shoves it to sleep when the milk is swallowed, and she +shoves it ideally through baths and massage, promenades and practice, +till the little organism develops like a mushroom to stand on its own +feet. Then she continues her ideal shoving of it through all the +stages of an ideal up-bringing, she loves it as a chemist loves his +test-tubes in which he analyzes his salts. The poor little object is +his mother's ideal. But of her head she dictates his providential +days, and by the force of her deliberate mentally-directed love-will +she pushes him up into boyhood. The poor little devil never knows one +moment when he is not encompassed by the beautiful, benevolent, +idealistic, Botticelli-pure, and finally obscene love-will of the +mother. Never, never one mouthful does he drink of the milk of human +kindness: always the sterilized milk of human benevolence. There is no +mother's milk to-day, save in tigers' udders, and in the udders of +sea-whales. Our children drink a decoction of ideal love, at the +breast. + +Never for one moment, poor baby, the deep warm stream of love from the +mother's bowels to his bowels. Never for one moment the dark proud +recoil into rest, the soul's separation into deep, rich independence. +Never this lovely rich forgetfulness, as a cat trots off and utterly +forgets her kittens, utterly, richly forgets them, till suddenly, +click, the dynamic circuit reverses itself in her, and she remembers, +and rages round in a frenzy, shouting for her young. + +Our miserable infants never know this joy and richness and pang of real +maternal warmth. Our wonderful mothers never let us out of their minds +for one single moment. Not for a second do they allow us to escape from +their ideal benevolence. Not one single breath does a baby draw, free +from the imposition of the pure, unselfish, Botticelli-holy, detestable +_love-will_ of the mother. Always the _will_, the will, the love-will, +the ideal will, directed from the ideal mind. Always this stone, this +scorpion of maternal nourishment. Always this infernal self-conscious +Madonna starving our living guts and bullying us to death with her love. + +We have made the idea supplant both impulse and tradition. We have no +spark of wholeness. And we live by an evil love-will. Alas, the great +spontaneous mode is abrogated. There is no lovely great flux of vital +sympathy, no rich rejoicing of pride into isolation and independence. +There is no reverence for great traditions of parenthood. No, there is +substitute for everything--life-substitute--just as we have +butter-substitute, and meat-substitute, and sugar-substitute, and +leather-substitute, and silk-substitute, so we have life-substitute. +We have beastly benevolence, and foul good-will, and stinking charity, +and poisonous ideals. + +The poor modern brat, shoved horribly into life by an effort of will, +and shoved up towards manhood by every appliance that can be applied +to it, especially the appliance of the maternal will, it is really too +pathetic to contemplate. The only thing that prevents us wringing our +hands is the remembrance that the little devil will grow up and beget +other similar little devils of his own, to invent more aeroplanes and +hospitals and germ-killers and food-substitutes and poison gases. The +problem of the future is a question of the strongest poison-gas. Which +is certainly a very sure way out of our vicious circle. + +There is no way out of a vicious circle, of course, except breaking +the circle. And since the mother-child relationship is to-day the +viciousest of circles, what are we to do? Just wait for the results of +the poison-gas competition presumably. + +Oh, ideal humanity, how detestable and despicable you are! And how you +deserve your own poison-gases! How you deserve to perish in your own +stink. + +It is no use contemplating the development of the modern child, born +out of the mental-conscious love-will, born to be another unit of +self-conscious love-will: an ideal-born beastly little entity with a +devil's own will of its own, benevolent, of course, and a Satan's own +seraphic self-consciousness, like a beastly Botticelli brat. + +Once we really consider this modern process of life and the love-will, +we could throw the pen away, and spit, and say three cheers for the +inventors of poison-gas. Is there not an American who is supposed to +have invented a breath of heaven whereby, drop one pop-cornful in +Hampstead, one in Brixton, one in East Ham, and one in Islington, and +London is a Pompeii in five minutes! Or was the American only +bragging? Because anyhow, whom has he experimented on? I read it in +the newspaper, though. London a Pompeii in five minutes. Makes the +gods look silly! + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +LITANY OF EXHORTATIONS + + +I thought I'd better turn over a new leaf, and start a new chapter. +The intention of the last chapter was to find a way out of the vicious +circle. And it ended in poison-gas. + +Yes, dear reader, so it did. But you've not silenced me yet, for all +that. + +We're in a nasty mess. We're in a vicious circle. And we're making a +careful study of poison-gases. The secret of Greek fire was lost long +ago, when the world left off being wonderful and ideal. Now it is +wonderful and ideal again, much wonderfuller and _much_ more ideal. So +we ought to do something rare in the way of poison-gas. London a +Pompeii in five minutes! How to outdo Vesuvius!--title of a new book +by American authors. + +There is only one single other thing to do. And it's more difficult +than poison-gas. It is to leave off loving. It is to leave off +benevolenting and having a good will. It is to cease utterly. Just +leave off. Oh, parents, see that your children get their dinners and +clean sheets, but don't love them. Don't love them one single grain, +and don't let anybody else love them. Give them their dinners and +leave them alone. You've already loved them to perdition. Now leave +them alone, to find their own way out. + +Wives, don't love your husbands any more: even if they cry for it, the +great babies! Sing: "I've had enough of that old sauce." And leave off +loving them or caring for them one single bit. Don't even hate them or +dislike them. Don't have any stew with them at all. Just boil the eggs +and fill the salt-cellars and be quite nice, and in your own soul, be +alone and be still. Be alone, and be still, preserving all the human +decencies, and abandoning the indecency of desires and benevolencies +and devotions, those beastly poison-gas apples of the Sodom vine of +the love-will. + +Wives, don't love your husbands nor your children nor anybody. Sit +still, and say Hush! And while you shake the duster out of the +drawing-room window, say to yourself--"In the sweetness of solitude." +And when your husband comes in and says he's afraid he's got a cold +and is going to have double pneumonia, say quietly "surely not." And +if he wants the ammoniated quinine, give it him if he can't get it for +himself. But don't let him drive you out of your solitude, your +singleness within yourself. And if your little boy falls down the +steps and makes his mouth bleed, nurse and comfort him, but say to +yourself, even while you tremble with the shock: "Alone. Alone. Be +alone, my soul." And if the servant smashes three electric-light bulbs +in three minutes, say to her: "How very inconsiderate and careless of +you!" But say to yourself: "Don't hear it, my soul. Don't take fright +at the pop of a light-bulb." + +Husbands, don't love your wives any more. If they flirt with men +younger or older than yourselves, let your blood not stir. If you can +go away, go away. But if you must stay and see her, then say to her, +"I would rather you didn't flirt in my presence, Eleanora." Then, when +she goes red and loosens torrents of indignation, don't answer any +more. And when she floods into tears, say quietly in your own self, +"My soul is my own"; and go away, be alone as much as possible. And +when she works herself up, and says she must have love or she will +die, then say: "Not my love, however." And to all her threats, her +tears, her entreaties, her reproaches, her cajolements, her +winsomenesses, answer nothing, but say to yourself: "Shall I be +implicated in this display of the love-will? Shall I be blasted by +this false lightning?" And though you tremble in every fiber, and feel +sick, vomit-sick with the scene, still contain yourself, and say, "My +soul is my own. It shall not be violated." And learn, learn, learn the +one and only lesson worth learning at last. Learn to walk in the +sweetness of the possession of your own soul. And whether your wife +weeps as she takes off her amber beads at night, or whether your +neighbor in the train sits in your coat bottoms, or whether your +superior in the office makes supercilious remarks, or your inferior is +familiar and impudent; or whether you read in the newspaper that Lloyd +George is performing another iniquity, or the Germans plotting another +plot, say to yourself: "My soul is my own. My soul is with myself, and +beyond implication." And wait, quietly, in possession of your own +soul, till you meet another man who has made the choice, and kept it. +Then you will know him by the look on his face: half a dangerous look, +a look of Cain, and half a look of gathered beauty. Then you two will +make the nucleus of a new society--Ooray! Bis! Bis!! + +But if you should never meet such a man: and if your wife should +torture you every day with her love-will: and even if she should force +herself into a consumption, like Catherine Linton in "Wuthering +Heights," owing to her obstinate and determined love-will (which is +quite another matter than love): and if you see the world inventing +poison-gas and falling into its poisoned grave: never give in, but be +alone, and utterly alone with your own soul, in the stillness and +sweet possession of your own soul. And don't even be angry. And +_never_ be sad. Why should you? It's not your affair. + +But if your wife should accomplish for herself the sweetness of her +own soul's possession, then gently, delicately let the new mode assert +itself, the new mode of relation between you, with something of +spontaneous paradise in it, the apple of knowledge at last digested. +But, my word, what belly-aches meanwhile. That apple is harder to +digest than a lead gun-cartridge. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +COSMOLOGICAL + + +Well, dear reader, Chapter XII was short, and I hope you found it +sweet. + +But remember, this is an essay on Child Consciousness, not a tract on +Salvation. It isn't my fault that I am led at moments into +exhortation. + +Well, then, what about it? One fact now seems very clear--at any rate +to me. We've got to pause. We haven't got to gird our loins with a new +frenzy and our larynxes with a new Glory Song. Not a bit of it. Before +you dash off to put salt on the tail of a new religion or of a new +Leader of Men, dear reader, sit down quietly and pull yourself +together. Say to yourself: "Come now, what is it all about?" And +you'll realize, dear reader, that you're all in a fluster, inwardly. +Then say to yourself: "Why am I in such a fluster?" And you'll see +you've no reason at all to be so: except that it's rather exciting to +be in a fluster, and it may seem rather stale eggs to be in no fluster +at all about anything. And yet, dear little reader, once you consider +it quietly, it's _so_ much nicer _not_ to be in a fluster. It's so +much nicer not to feel one's deeper innards storming like the Bay of +Biscay. It is so much better to get up and say to the waters of one's +own troubled spirit: Peace, be still ...! And they will be still ... +perhaps. + +And then one realizes that all the wild storms of anxiety and frenzy +were only so much breaking of eggs. It isn't our business to live +anybody's life, or to die anybody's death, except our own. Nor to save +anybody's soul, nor to put anybody in the right; nor yet in the wrong, +which is more the point to-day. But to be still, and to ignore the +false fine frenzy of the seething world. To turn away, now, each one +into the stillness and solitude of his own soul. And there to remain +in the quiet with the Holy Ghost which is to each man his own true +soul. + +This is the way out of the vicious circle. Not to rush round on the +periphery, like a rabbit in a ring, trying to break through. But to +retreat to the very center, and there to be filled with a new strange +stability, polarized in unfathomable richness with the center of +centers. We are so silly, trying to invent devices and machines for +flying off from the surface of the earth. Instead of realizing that +for us the deep satisfaction lies not in escaping, but in getting into +the perfect circuit of the earth's terrestrial magnetism. Not in +breaking away. What is the good of trying to break away from one's +own? What is the good of a tree desiring to fly like a bird in the +sky, when a bird is rooted in the earth as surely as a tree is? Nay, +the bird is only the topmost leaf of the tree, fluttering in the high +air, but attached as close to the tree as any other leaf. Mr. +Einstein's Theory of Relativity does not supersede the Newtonian Law +of Gravitation or of Inertia. It only says, "Beware! The Law of +Inertia is not the simple ideal proposition you would like to make of +it. It is a vast complexity. Gravitation is not one elemental uncouth +force. It is a strange, infinitely complex, subtle aggregate of +forces." And yet, however much it may waggle, a stone does fall to +earth if you drop it. + +We should like, vulgarly, to rejoice and say that the new Theory of +Relativity releases us from the old obligation of centrality. It does +no such thing. It only makes the old centrality much more strange, +subtle, complex, and vital. It only robs us of the nice old ideal +simplicity. Which ideal simplicity and logicalness has become such a +fish-bone stuck in our throats. + +The universe is once more in the mental melting-pot. And you can melt +it down as long as you like, and mutter all the jargon and +abracadabra, _aldeboronti fosco fornio_ of science that mental +monkey-tricks can teach you, you won't get anything in the end but a +formula and a lie. The atom? Why, the moment you discover the atom it +will explode under your nose. The moment you discover the ether it +will evaporate. The moment you get down to the real basis of anything, +it will dissolve into a thousand problematic constituents. And the +more problems you solve, the more will spring up with their fingers at +their nose, making a fool of you. + +There is only one clue to the universe. And that is the individual +soul within the individual being. That outer universe of suns and +moons and atoms is a secondary affair. It is the death-result of +living individuals. There is a great polarity in life itself. Life +itself is dual. And the duality is life and death. And death is not +just shadow or mystery. It is the negative reality of life. It is what +we call Matter and Force, among other things. + +Life is individual, always was individual and always will be. Life +consists of living individuals, and always did so consist, in the +beginning of everything. There never was any universe, any cosmos, of +which the first reality was anything but living, incorporate +individuals. I don't say the individuals were exactly like you and me. +And they were never wildly different. + +And therefore it is time for the idealist and the scientist--they are +one and the same, really--to stop his monkey-jargon about the atom and +the origin of life and the mechanical clue to the universe. There +isn't any such thing. I might as well say: "Then they took the cart, +and rubbed it all over with grease. Then they sprayed it with white +wine, and spun round the right wheel five hundred revolutions to the +minute and the left wheel, in the opposite direction, seven hundred +and seventy-seven revolutions to the minute. Then a burning torch was +applied to each axle. And lo, the footboard of the cart began to +swell, and suddenly as the cart groaned and writhed, the horse was +born, and lay panting between the shafts." The whole scientific theory +of the universe is not worth such a tale: that the cart conceived and +gave birth to the horse. + +I do not believe one-fifth of what science can tell me about the sun. +I do not believe for one second that the moon is a dead world +spelched off from our globe. I do not believe that the stars came +flying off from the sun like drops of water when you spin your wet +hanky. I have believed it for twenty years, because it seemed so +ideally plausible. Now I don't accept any ideal plausibilities at all. +I look at the moon and the stars, and I know I don't believe anything +that I am told about them. Except that I like their names, Aldebaran +and Cassiopeia, and so on. + +I have tried, and even brought myself to believe in a clue to the +outer universe. And in the process I have swallowed such a lot of +jargon that I would rather listen now to a negro witch-doctor than to +Science. There is nothing in the world that is true except empiric +discoveries which work in actual appliances. I know that the sun is +hot. But I won't be told that the sun is a ball of blazing gas which +spins round and fizzes. No, thank you. + +At length, for _my_ part, I know that life, and life only is the clue +to the universe. And that the living individual is the clue to life. +And that it always was so, and always will be so. + +When the living individual dies, then is the realm of death +established. Then you get Matter and Elements and atoms and forces and +sun and moon and earth and stars and so forth. In short, the outer +universe, the Cosmos. The Cosmos is nothing but the aggregate of the +dead bodies and dead energies of bygone individuals. The dead bodies +decompose as we know into earth, air, and water, heat and radiant +energy and free electricity and innumerable other scientific facts. +The dead souls likewise decompose--or else they don't decompose. But +if they _do_ decompose, then it is not into any elements of Matter and +physical energy. They decompose into some psychic reality, and into +some potential will. They reenter into the living psyche of living +individuals. The living soul partakes of the dead souls, as the living +breast partakes of the outer air, and the blood partakes of the sun. +The soul, the individuality, never resolves itself through death into +physical constituents. The dead soul remains always soul, and always +retains its individual quality. And it does not disappear, but +reenters into the soul of the living, of some living individual or +individuals. And there it continues its part in life, as a +death-witness and a life-agent. But it does not, ordinarily, have any +separate existence there, but is incorporate in the living individual +soul. But in some extraordinary cases, the dead soul may really act +separately in a living individual. + +How this all is, and what are the laws of the relation between life +and death, the living and the dead, I don't know. But that this +relation exists, and exists in a manner as I describe it, for my own +part I know. And I am fully aware that once we direct our living +attention this way, instead of to the absurdity of the atom, then we +have a whole _living_ universe of knowledge before us. The universe of +life and death, of which we, whose business it is to live and to die, +know nothing. Whilst concerning the universe of Force and Matter we +pile up theories and make staggering and disastrous discoveries of +machinery and poison-gas, all of which we were much better without. + +It is life we have to live by, not machines and ideals. And life means +nothing else, even, but the spontaneous living soul which is our +central reality. The spontaneous, living, individual soul, this is the +clue, and the only clue. All the rest is derived. + +How it is contrived that the individual soul in the living sways the +very sun in its centrality, I do not know. But it is so. It is the +peculiar dynamic polarity of the living soul in every weed or bug or +beast, each one separately and individually polarized with the great +returning pole of the sun, that maintains the sun alive. For I take it +that the sun is the great sympathetic center of our inanimate +universe. I take it that the sun breathes in the effluence of all that +fades and dies. Across space fly the innumerable vibrations which are +the basis of all matter. They fly, breathed out from the dying and the +dead, from all that which is passing away, even in the living. These +vibrations, these elements pass away across space, and are breathed +back again. The sun itself is invisible as the soul. The sun itself is +the soul of the inanimate universe, the aggregate clue to the +substantial death, if we may call it so. The sun is the great active +pole of the sympathetic death-activity. To the sun fly the vibrations +or the molecules in the great sympathy-mode of death, and in the sun +they are renewed, they turn again as the great gift back again from +the sympathetic death-center towards life, towards the living. But it +is not even the dead which _really_ sustain the sun. It is the dynamic +relation between the solar plexus of individuals and the sun's core, a +perfect circuit. The sun is materially composed of all the effluence +of the dead. But the _quick_ of the sun is polarized with the living, +the sun's quick is polarized in dynamic relation with the quick of +life in all living things, that is, with the solar plexus in mankind. +A direct dynamic connection between my solar plexus and the sun. + +Likewise, as the sun is the great fiery, vivifying pole of the +inanimate universe, the moon is the other pole, cold and keen and +vivifying, corresponding in some way to a _voluntary_ pole. We live +between the polarized circuit of sun and moon. And the moon is +polarized with the lumbar ganglion, primarily, in man. Sun and moon +are dynamically polarized to our actual tissue, they affect this +tissue all the time. + +The moon is, as it were, the pole of our particular terrestrial +_volition_, in the universe. What holds the earth swinging in space is +first, the great dynamic attraction to the sun, and then counterposing +assertion of independence, singleness, which is polarized in the moon. +The moon is the clue to our earth's individual identity, in the wide +universe. + +The moon is an immense magnetic center. It is quite wrong to say she +is a dead snowy world with craters and so on. I should say she is +composed of some very intense element, like phosphorus or radium, some +element or elements which have very powerful chemical and kinetic +activity, and magnetic activity, affecting us through space. + +It is not the sun which we see in heaven. It is the rushing thither +and the rushing thence of the vibrations expelled by death from the +body of life, and returned back again to the body of life. Possibly +even a dead soul makes its journey to the sun and back, before we +receive it again in our breast. Just as the breath we breathe out +flies to the sun and back, before we breathe it in again. And as the +water that evaporates rises right to the sun, and returns here. What +we see is the great golden rushing thither, from the death exhalation, +towards the sun, as a great cloud of bees flying to swarm upon the +invisible queen, circling round, and loosing again. This is what we +see of the sun. The center is invisible for ever. + +And of the moon the same. The moon has her back to us for ever. Not +her face, as we like to think. The moon also pulls the water, as the +sun does. But not in evaporation. The moon pulls by the magnetic force +we call gravitation. Gravitation not being quite such a Newtonian +simple apple as we are accustomed to find it, we are perhaps farther +off from understanding the tides of the ocean than we were before the +fruit of the tree fell to Sir Isaac's head. It is certainly not simple +little-things tumble-towards-big-things gravitation. In the moon's +pull there is peculiar, quite special force exerted over those +water-born substances, phosphorus, salt, and lime. The dynamic energy +of salt water is something quite different from that of fresh water. +And it is this dynamic energy which the sea gives off, and which +connects it with the moon. And the moon is some strange coagulation of +substance such as salt, phosphorus, soda. It certainly isn't a snowy +cold world, like a world of our own gone cold. Nonsense. It is a globe +of dynamic substance like radium or phosphorus, coagulated upon a +certain vivid pole of energy, which pole of energy is directly +polarized with our earth, in opposition with the sun. + +The moon is born from the death of individuals. All things, in their +oneing, their unification into the pure, universal oneness, evaporate +and fly like an imitation breath towards the sun. Even the crumbling +rocks breathe themselves off in this rocky death, to the sun of +heaven, during the day. + +But at the same time, during the night they breathe themselves off to +the moon. If we come to think of it, light and dark are a question +both of the third body, the intervening body, what we will call, by +stretching a point, the individual. As we all know, apart from the +existence of molecules of individual matter, there is neither light +nor dark. A universe utterly without matter, we don't know whether it +is light or dark. Even the pure space between the sun and moon, the +blue space, we don't know whether, in itself, it is light or dark. We +can say it is light, we can say it is dark. But light and dark are +terms which apply only to ourselves, the third, the intermediate, the +substantial, the individual. + +If we come to think of it, light and dark only mean whether we have +our face or our back towards the sun. If we have our face to the sun, +then we establish the circuit of cosmic or universal or material or +infinite sympathy. These four adjectives, cosmic, universal, material, +and infinite are almost interchangeable, and apply, as we see, to that +realm of the non-individual existence which we call the realm of the +substantial death. It is the universe which has resulted from the +death of individuals. And to this universe alone belongs the quality +of infinity: to the universe of death. Living individuals have no +infinity save in this relation to the total death-substance and +death-being, the summed-up cosmos. + +Light and dark, these great wonders, are relative to us alone. These +are two vast poles of the cosmic energy and of material existence. +These are the vast poles of cosmic sympathy, which we call the sun, +and the other white pole of cosmic volition, which we call the moon. +To the sun belong the great forces of heat and radiant energy, to the +moon belong the great forces of magnetism and electricity, +radium-energy, and so on. The sun is not, in any sense, a material +body. It is an invariable intense pole of cosmic energy, and what we +see are the particles of our terrestrial decomposition flying thither +and returning, as fine grains of iron would fly to an intense magnet, +or better, as the draught in a room veers towards the fire, attracted +infallibly, as a moth towards a candle. The moth is drawn to the +candle as the draught is drawn to the fire, in the absolute spell of +the material polarity of fire. And air escapes again, hot and +different, from the fire. So is the sun. + +Fire, we say, is combustion. It is marvelous how science proceeds like +witchcraft and alchemy, by means of an abracadabra which has no +earthly sense. Pray, what is combustion? You can try and answer +scientifically, till you are black in the face. All you can say is +that it is _that which happens_ when matter is raised to a certain +temperature--and so forth and so forth. You might as well say, a word +is that which happens when I open my mouth and squeeze my larynx and +make various tricks with my throat muscles. All these explanations are +so senseless. They describe the apparatus, and think they have +described the event. + +Fire may be accompanied by combustion, but combustion is not +necessarily accompanied by fire. All A is B, but all B is not A. And +therefore fire, no matter how you jiggle, is not identical with +combustion. Fire. FIRE. I insist on the absolute word. You may say +that fire is a sum of various phenomena. I say it isn't. You might as +well tell me a fly is a sum of wings and six legs and two bulging +eyes. It is the fly which has the wings and legs, and not the legs and +wings which somehow nab the fly into the middle of themselves. A fly +is not a sum of various things. A fly is a fly, and the items of the +sum are still fly. + +So with fire. Fire is an absolute unity in itself. It is a dynamic +polar principle. Establish a certain polarity between the +moon-principle and the sun-principle, between the positive and +negative, or sympathetic and volitional dynamism in any piece of +matter, and you have fire, you have the sun-phenomenon. It is the +sudden flare into the one mode, the sun mode, the material sympathetic +mode. Correspondingly, establish an opposite polarity between the +sun-principle and the water-principle, and you have decomposition into +water, or towards watery dissolution. + +There are two sheer dynamic principles in our universe, the +sun-principle and the moon-principle. And these principles are known +to us in immediate contact as fire and water. The sun is not fire. But +the principle of fire is the sun-principle. That is, fire is the +sudden swoop towards the sun, of matter which is suddenly +sun-polarized. Fire is the sudden sun-assertion, the release towards +the one pole only. It is the sudden revelation of the cosmic One +Polarity, One Identity. + +But there is another pole. There is the moon. And there is another +absolute and visible principle, the principle of water. The moon is +not water. But it is the soul of water, the invisible clue to all the +waters. + +So that we begin to realize our visible universe as a vast dual +polarity between sun and moon. Two vast poles in space, invisible in +themselves, but visible owing to the circuit which swoops between +them, round them, the circuit of the universe, established at the +cosmic poles of the sun and moon. This then is the infinite, the +positive infinite of the positive pole, the sun-pole, negative +infinite of the negative pole, the moon-pole. And between the two +infinites all existence takes place. + +But wait. Existence is truly a matter of propagation between the two +infinites. But it needs a third presence. Sun-principle and +moon-principle, embracing through the aeons, could never by themselves +propagate one molecule of matter. The hailstone needs a grain of dust +for its core. So does the universe. Midway between the two cosmic +infinites lies the third, which is more than infinite. This is the +Holy Ghost Life, individual life. + +It is so easy to imagine that between them, the two infinites of the +cosmos propagated life. But one single moment of pause and silence, +one single moment of gathering the whole soul into knowledge, will +tell us that it is a falsity. It was the living individual soul which, +dying, flung into space the two wings of the infinite, the two poles +of the sun and the moon. The sun and the moon are the two eternal +death-results of the death of individuals. Matter, all matter, is the +Life-born. And what we know as inert matter, this is only the result +of death in individuals, it is the dead bodies of individuals +decomposed and resmelted between the hammer and anvil, fire and sand +of the sun and the moon. When time began, the first individual died, +the poles of the sun and moon were flung into space, and between the +two, in a strange chaos and battle, the dead body was torn and melted +and smelted, and rolled beneath the feet of the living. So the world +was formed, always under the feet of the living. + +And so we have a clue to gravitation. We, mankind, are all one family. +In our individual bodies burns the positive quick of all things. But +beneath our feet, in our own earth, lies the intense center of our +human, individual death, our grave. The earth has one center, to which +we are all polarized. The circuit of our life is balanced on the +living soul within us, as the positive center, and on the earth's dark +center, the center of our abiding and eternal and substantial death, +our great negative center, away below. This is the circuit of our +immediate individual existence. We stand upon our own grave, with our +death fire, the sun, on our right hand, and our death-damp, the moon, +on our left. + +The earth's center is no accident. It is the great individual pole of +us who die. It is the center of the first dead body. It is the first +germ-cell of death, which germ-cell threw out the great nuclei of the +sun and the moon. To this center of our earth we, as humans, are +eternally polarized, as are our trees. Inevitably, we fall to earth. +And the clue of us sinks to the earth's center, the clue of our death, +of our _weight_. And the earth flings us out as wings to the sun and +moon: or as the death-germ dividing into two nuclei. So from the earth +our radiance is flung to the sun, our marsh-fire to the moon, when we +die. + +We fall into the earth. But our rising was not from the earth. We rose +from the earthless quick, the unfading life. And earth, sun, and moon +are born only of our death. But it is only their polarized dynamic +connection with us who live which sustains them all in their place +and maintains them all in their own activities. The inanimate +universe rests absolutely on the life-circuit of living creatures, is +built upon the arch which spans the duality of living beings. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +SLEEP AND DREAMS + + +This is going rather far, for a book--nay, a booklet--on the child +consciousness. But it can't be helped. Child-consciousness it is. And +we have to roll away the stone of a scientific cosmos from the +tomb-mouth of that imprisoned consciousness. + +Now, dear reader, let us see where we are. First of all, we are +ourselves--which is the refrain of all my chants. We are ourselves. We +are living individuals. And as living individuals we are the one, pure +clue to our own cosmos. To which cosmos living individuals _have +always_ been the clue, since time began, and _will always_ be the +clue, while time lasts. + +I know it is not so fireworky as the sudden evolving of life, +somewhere, somewhen and somehow, out of force and matter with a pop. +But that pop never popped, dear reader. The boot was on the other leg. +And I wish I could mix a few more metaphors, like pops and legs and +boots, just to annoy you. + +Life never evolved, or evoluted, out of force and matter, dear reader. +There is no such thing as evolution, anyhow. There is only +development. Man was man in the very first plasm-speck which was his +own individual origin, and is still his own individual origin. As for +the origin, I don't know much about it. I only know there is but one +origin, and that is the individual soul. The individual soul +originated everything, and has itself no origin. So that time is a +matter of living experience, nothing else, and eternity is just a +mental trick. Of course every living speck, amoeba or newt, has its +own individual soul. + +And we sit on our own globe, dear reader, here individually located. +Our own individual being is our own single reality. But the single +reality of the individual being is dynamically and directly polarized +to the earth's center, which is the aggregate negative center of all +terrestrial existence. In short, the center which in life we thrust +away from, and towards which we fall, in death. For, our individual +existence being positive, we must have a negative pole to thrust away +from. And when our positive individual existence breaks, and we fall +into death, our wonderful individual gravitation-center succumbs to +the earth's gravitation-center. + +So there we are, individuals, single, life-born, life-living, yet all +the while poised and polarized to the aggregate center of our +substantial death, our earth's quick, powerful center-clue. + +There may be other individuals, alive, and having other worlds under +their feet, polarized to their own globe's center. But the very +sacredness of my own individuality prevents my pronouncing about them, +lest I, in attributing qualities to them, transgress against the pure +individuality which is theirs, beyond me. + +If, however, there be truly other people, with their own world under +their feet, then I think it is fair to say that we all have our +infinite identity in the sun. That in the rush and swirl of death we +pass through fiery ways to the same sun. And from the sun, can the +spores of souls pass to the various worlds? And to the worlds of the +cosmos seed across space, through the wild beams of the sun? Is there +seed of Mars in my veins? And is astrology not altogether nonsense? + +But if the sun is the center of our infinite oneing in death with all +the other after-death souls of the cosmos: and in that great central +station of travel, the sun, we meet and mingle and change trains for +the stars: then ought we to assume that the moon is likewise a +meeting-place of dead souls? The moon surely is a meeting-place of +cold, dead, angry souls. But from our own globe only. + +The moon is the center of our terrestrial individuality in the cosmos. +She is the declaration of our existence in separateness. Save for the +intense white recoil of the moon, the earth would stagger towards the +sun. The moon holds us to our own cosmic individuality, as a world +individual in space. She is the fierce center of retraction, of +frictional withdrawal into separateness. She it is who sullenly stands +with her back to us, and refuses to meet and mingle. She it is who +burns white with the intense friction of her withdrawal into +separation, that cold, proud white fire of furious, almost malignant +apartness, the struggle into fierce, frictional separation. Her white +fire is the frictional fire of the last strange, intense watery +matter, as this matter fights its way out of combination and out of +combustion with the sun-stuff. To the pure polarity of the moon fly +the essential waters of our universe. Which essential waters, at the +moon's clue, are only an intense invisible energy, a polarity of the +moon. + +There are only three great energies in the universal life, which is +always individual and which yet sways all the physical forces as well +as the vital energy; and then the two great dynamisms of the sun and +the moon. To the dynamism of the sun belong heat, expansion-force, and +all that range. To the dynamism of the moon the _essential_ watery +forces: not just gravitation, but electricity, magnetism, +radium-energy, and so on. + +The moon likewise is the pole of our night activities, as the sun is +the pole of our day activities. Remember that the sun and moon are but +great self-abandons which individual life has thrown out, to the right +hand and to the left. When individual life dies, it flings itself on +the right hand to the sun, on the left hand to the moon, in the dual +polarity, and sinks to earth. When any man dies, his soul divides in +death; as in life, in the first germ, it was united from two germs. It +divides into two dark germs, flung asunder: the sun-germ and the +moon-germ. Then the material body sinks to earth. And so we have the +cosmic universe such as we know it. + +What is the exact relationship between us and the death-realm of the +afterwards we shall never know. But this relation is none the less +active every moment of our lives. There is a pure polarity between +life and death, between the living and the dead, between each living +individual and the outer cosmos. Between each living individual and +the earth's center passes a never-ceasing circuit of magnetism. It is +a circuit which in man travels up the right side, and down the left +side of the body, to the earth's center. It never ceases. But while we +are awake it is entirely under the control and spell of the total +consciousness, the individual consciousness, the soul, or self. When +we sleep, however, then this individual consciousness of the soul is +suspended for the time, and we lie completely within the circuit of +the earth's magnetism, or gravitation, or both: the circuit of the +earth's centrality. It is this circuit which is busy in all our tissue +removing or arranging the dead body of our past day. For each time we +lie down to sleep we have within us a body of death which dies with +the day that is spent. And this body of death is removed or laid in +line by the activities of the earth-circuit, the great active +death-circuit, while we sleep. + +As we sleep the current sweeps its own way through us, as the streets +of a city are swept and flushed at night. It sweeps through our nerves +and our blood, sweeping away the ash of our day's spent consciousness +towards one form or other of excretion. This earth-current actively +sweeping through us is really the death-activity busy in the service +of life. It behooves us to know nothing of it. And as it sweeps it +stimulates in the primary centers of consciousness vibrations which +flash images upon the mind. Usually, in deep sleep, these images pass +unrecorded; but as we pass towards the twilight of dawn and +wakefulness, we begin to retain some impression, some record of the +dream-images. Usually also the images that are accidentally swept into +the mind in sleep are as disconnected and as unmeaning as the pieces +of paper which the street cleaners sweep into a bin from the city +gutters at night. We should not think of taking all these papers, +piecing them together, and making a marvelous book of them, prophetic +of the future and pregnant with the past. We should not do so, +although every rag of printed paper swept from the gutter would have +some connection with the past day's event. But its significance, the +significance of the words printed upon it is so small, that we +relegate it into the limbo of the accidental and meaningless. There +is no vital connection between the many torn bits of paper--only an +accidental connection. Each bit of paper has reference to some actual +event: a bus-ticket, an envelope, a tract, a pastry-shop bag, a +newspaper, a hand-bill. But take them all together, bus-ticket, torn +envelope, tract, paper-bag, piece of newspaper and hand-bill, and they +have no individual sequence, they belong more to the mechanical +arrangements than to the vital consequence of our existence. And the +same with most dreams. They are the heterogeneous odds and ends of +images swept together accidentally by the besom of the night-current, +and it is beneath our dignity to attach any real importance to them. +It is always beneath our dignity to go degrading the integrity of the +individual soul by cringing and scraping among the rag-tag of accident +and of the inferior, mechanic coincidence and automatic event. Only +those events are significant which derive from or apply to the soul in +its full integrity. To go kow-towing before the facts of change, as +gamblers and fortune-readers and fatalists do, is merely a perverting +of the soul's proud integral priority, a rearing up of idiotic idols +and fetishes. + +Most dreams are purely insignificant, and it is the sign of a weak +and paltry nature to pay any attention to them whatever. Only +occasionally they matter. And this is only when something _threatens_ +us from the outer mechanical, or accidental _death_-world. When +anything threatens us from the world of death, then a dream may become +so vivid that it arouses the actual soul. And when a dream is so +intense that it arouses the soul--then we must attend to it. + +But we may have the most appalling nightmare because we eat pancakes +for supper. Here again, we are threatened with an arrest of the +mechanical flow of the system. This arrest becomes so serious that it +affects the great organs of the heart and lungs, and these organs +affect the primary conscious-centers. + +Now we shall see that this is the direct reverse of real living +consciousness. In living consciousness the primary affective centers +control the great organs. But when sleep is on us, the reverse takes place. +The great organs, being obstructed in their spontaneous-automatism, at last +with violence arouse the active conscious-centers. And these flash images +to the brain. + +These nightmare images are very frequently purely mechanical: as of +falling terribly downwards, or being enclosed in vaults. And such +images are pure physical transcripts. The image of falling, of flying, +of trying to run and not being able to lift the feet, of having to +creep through terribly small passages, these are direct transcripts +from the physical phenomena of circulation and digestion. It is the +directly transcribed image of the heart which, impeded in its action +by the gases of indigestion, is switched out of its established +circuit of earth-polarity, and is as if suspended over a void, or +plunging into a void: step by step, falling downstairs, maybe, +according to the strangulation of the heart beats. The same paralytic +inability to lift the feet when one needs to run, in a dream, comes +directly from the same impeded action of the heart, which is thrown +off its balance by some material obstruction. Now the heart swings +left and right in the pure circuit of the earth's polarity. Hinder +this swing, force the heart over to the left, by inflation of gas from +the stomach or by dead pressure upon the blood and nerves from any +obstruction, and you get the sensation of being unable to lift the +feet from earth: a gasping sensation. Or force the heart to +over-balance towards the right, and you get the sensation of flying or +of falling. The heart telegraphs its distress to the mind, and wakes +us. The wakeful soul at once begins to deal with the obstruction, +which was too much for the mechanical night-circuits. The same holds +good of dreams of imprisonment, or of creeping through narrow +passages. They are direct transfers from the squeezing of the blood +through constricted arteries or heart chambers. + +Most dreams are stimulated from the blood into the nerves and the +nerve-centers. And the heart is the transmission station. For the +blood has a unity and a consciousness of its own. It has a deeper, +elemental consciousness of the mechanical or material world. In the +blood we have the body of our most elemental consciousness, our almost +material consciousness. And during sleep this material consciousness +transfers itself into the nerves and to the brain. The transfer in +wakefulness results in a feeling of pain or discomfort--as when we +have indigestion, which is pure blood-discomfort. But in sleep the +transfer is made through the dream-images which are mechanical +phenomena like mirages. + +Nightmares which have purely mechanical images may terrify us, give us +a great shock, but the shock does not enter our souls. We are +surprised, in the morning, to find that the bristling horror of the +night seems now just nothing--dwindled to nothing. And this is because +what was a purely material obstruction in the physical flow, temporary +only, is indeed a nothingness to the living, integral soul. We are +subject to such accidents--if we will eat pancakes for supper. And +that is the end of it. + +But there are other dreams which linger and haunt the soul. These are +true soul-dreams. As we know, life consists of reactions and +interrelations from the great centers of primary consciousness. I may +start a chain of connection from one center, which inevitably +stimulates into activity the corresponding center. For example, I may +develop a profound and passional love for my mother, in my days of +adolescence. This starts, willy-nilly, the whole activity of adult +love at the lower centers. But admission is made only of the upper, +spiritual love, the love dynamically polarized at the upper centers. +Nevertheless, whether the admission is made or not, once establish the +circuit in the upper or spiritual centers of adult love, and you will +get a corresponding activity in the lower, passional centers of adult +love. + +The activity at the lower center, however, is denied in the daytime. +There is a repression. Then the friction of the night-flow liberates +the repressed psychic activity explosively. And then the image of the +mother figures in passionate, disturbing, soul-rending dreams. + +The Freudians point to this as evidence of a repressed incest desire. +The Freudians are too simple. It is _always_ wrong to accept a +dream-meaning at its face value. Sleep is the time when we are given +over to the automatic processes of the inanimate universe. Let us not +forget this. Dreams are automatic in their nature. The psyche +possesses remarkably few dynamic images. In the case of the boy who +dreams of his mother, we have the aroused but unattached sex plunging +in sleep, causing a sort of obstruction. We have the image of the +mother, the dynamic emotional image. And the automatism of the +dream-process immediately unites the sex-sensation to the great stock +image, and produces an incest dream. But does this prove a repressed +incest desire? On the contrary. + +The truth is, every man has, the moment he awakes, a hatred of his +dream, and a great desire to be free of the dream, free of the +persistent mother-image or sister-image of the dream. It is a ghoul, +it haunts his dreams, this image, with its hateful conclusions. And +yet he cannot get free. As long as a man lives he may, in his dreams +of passion or conflict, be haunted by the mother-image or +sister-image, even when he knows that the cause of the disturbing +dream is the wife. But even though the actual subject of the dream is +the wife, still, over and over again, for years, the dream-process +will persist in substituting the mother-image. It haunts and terrifies +a man. + +Why does the dream-process act so? For two reasons. First, the reason +of simple automatic continuance. The mother-image was the first great +emotional image to be introduced in the psyche. The dream-process +mechanically reproduces its stock image the moment the intense +sympathy-emotion is aroused. Again, the mother-image refers only to +the upper plane. But the dream-process is mechanical in its logic. +Because the mother-image refers to the great dynamic stress of the +upper plane, therefore it refers to the great dynamic stress of the +lower. This is a piece of sheer automatic logic. The living soul is +_not_ automatic, and automatic logic does not apply to it. + +But for our second reason for the image. In becoming the object of +great emotional stress for her son, the mother also becomes an object +of poignancy, of anguish, of arrest, to her son. She arrests him from +finding his proper fulfillment on the sensual plane. Now it is almost +always the object of arrest which becomes impressed, as it were, upon +the psyche. A man very rarely has an image of a person with whom he is +livingly, vitally connected. He only has dream-images of the persons +who, in some way, _oppose_ his life-flow and his soul's freedom, and +so become impressed upon his plasm as objects of resistance. Once a +man is dynamically caught on the upper plane by mother or sister, then +the dream-image of mother or sister will persist until the dynamic +_rapport_ between himself and his mother or sister is finally broken. +And the dream-image from the upper plane will be automatically applied +to the disturbance of the lower plane. + +Because--and this is very important--the dream-process _loves_ its own +automatism. It would force everything to an automatic-logical +conclusion in the psyche. But the living, wakeful psyche is so +flexible and sensitive, it has a horror of automatism. While the soul +really lives, its deepest dread is perhaps the dread of automatism. +For automatism in life is a forestalling of the death process. + +The living soul has its great fear. The living soul _fears_ the +automatically logical conclusion of incest. Hence the sleep-process +invariably draws this conclusion. The dream-process, fiendishly, plays +a triumph of automatism over us. But the dream-conclusion is almost +invariably just the _reverse_ of the soul's desire, in any +distress-dream. Popular dream-telling understood this, and pronounced +that you must read dreams backwards. Dream of a wedding, and it means +a funeral. Wish your friend well, and fear his death, and you will +dream of his funeral. Every desire has its corresponding fear that the +desire shall not be fulfilled. It is _fear_ which forms an +arrest-point in the psyche, hence an image. So the dream automatically +produces the fear-image as the desire-image. If you secretly wished +your enemy dead, and feared he might flourish, the dream would present +you with his wedding. + +Of course this rule of inversion is too simple to hold good in all +cases. Yet it is one of the most general rules for dreams, and applies +most often to desire-and-fear dreams of a psychic nature. + +So that an incest-dream would not prove an incest-desire in the living +psyche. Rather the contrary, a living fear of the automatic +conclusion: the soul's just dread of automatism. And though this may +sound like casuistry, I believe it does explain a good deal of the +dream-trick.--That which is lovely to the automatic process is hateful +to the spontaneous soul. The wakeful living soul fears automatism as +it fears death: death being automatic. + +It seems to me these are the first two dream-principles, and the two +most important: the principle of automatism and the principle of +inversion. They will not resolve everything for us, but they will help +a great deal. We have to be _very_ wary of giving way to dreams. It is +really a sin against ourselves to prostitute the living spontaneous +soul to the tyranny of dreams, or of chance, or fortune or luck, or +any of the processes of the automatic sphere. + +Then consider other dynamic dreams. First, the dream-image generally. +Any _significant_ dream-image is usually an image or a symbol of some +arrest or scotch in the living spontaneous psyche. There is another +principle. But if the image is a symbol, then the only safe way to +explain the symbol is to proceed from the quality of emotion +connected with the symbol. + +For example, a man has a persistent passionate fear-dream about +horses. He suddenly finds himself among great, physical horses, which +may suddenly go wild. Their great bodies surge madly round him, they +rear above him, threatening to destroy him. At any minute he may be +trampled down. + +Now a psychoanalyst will probably tell you off-hand that this is a +father-complex dream. Certain symbols seem to be put into complex +catalogues. But it is all too arbitrary. + +Examining the emotional reference we find that the feeling is sensual, +there is a great impression of the powerful, almost beautiful physical +bodies of the horses, the nearness, the rounded haunches, the rearing. +Is the dynamic passion in a horse the danger-passion? It is a great +sensual reaction at the sacral ganglion, a reaction of intense, +sensual, dominant volition. The horse which rears and kicks and neighs +madly acts from the intensely powerful sacral ganglion. But this +intense activity from the sacral ganglion is male: the sacral ganglion +is at its highest intensity in the male. So that the horse-dream +refers to some arrest in the deepest sensual activity in the male. +The horse is presented as an object of terror, which means that to the +man's automatic dream-soul, which loves automatism, the great sensual +male activity is the greatest menace. The automatic pseudo-soul, which +has got the sensual nature repressed, would like to keep it repressed. +Whereas the greatest desire of the living spontaneous soul is that +this very male sensual nature, represented as a menace, shall be +actually accomplished in life. The spontaneous self is secretly +yearning for the liberation and fulfillment of the deepest and most +powerful sensual nature. There may be an element of father-complex. +The horse may also refer to the powerful sensual being in the father. +The dream may mean a love of the dreamer for the sensual male who is +his father. But it has nothing to do with _incest_. The love is +probably a just love. + +The bull-dream is a curious reversal. In the bull the centers of power +are in the breast and shoulders. The horns of the head are symbols of +this vast power in the upper self. The woman's fear of the bull is a +great terror of the dynamic _upper_ centers in man. The bull's horns, +instead of being phallic, represent the enormous potency of the upper +centers. A woman whose most positive dynamism is in the breast and +shoulders is fascinated by the bull. Her dream-fear of the bull and +his horns which may run into her may be reversed to a significance of +desire for connection, not from the centers of the lower, sensual +self, but from the intense physical centers of the upper body: the +phallus polarized from the upper centers, and directed towards the +great breast center of the woman. Her wakeful fear is terror of the +great breast-and-shoulder, _upper_ rage and power of man, which may +pierce her defenseless lower self. The terror and the desire are near +together--and go with an admiration of the slender, abstracted bull +loins. + +Other dream-fears, or strong dream-impressions, may be almost +imageless. They may be a great terror, for example, of a purely +geometric figure--a figure from pure geometry, or an example of pure +mathematics. Or they may have no image, but only a sensation of smell, +or of color, or of sound. + +These are the dream-fears of the soul which is falling out of human +integrity into the purely mechanical mode. If we idealize ourselves +sufficiently, the spontaneous centers do at last work only, or almost +only, in the mechanical mode. They have no dynamic relation with +another being. They cannot have. Their whole power of dynamic +relationship is quenched. They act now in reference purely to the +mechanical world, of force and matter, sensation and law. So that in +dream-activity sensation or abstraction, abstract law or calculation +occurs as the predominant or exclusive image. In the dream there may +be a sensation of admiration or delight. The waking sensation is fear. +Because the soul fears above all things its fall from individual +integrity into the mechanic activity of the outer world, which is the +automatic death-world. + +And this is our danger to-day. We tend, through deliberate idealism or +deliberate material purpose, to destroy the soul in its first nature +of spontaneous, integral being, and to substitute the second nature, +the automatic nature of the mechanical universe. For this purpose we +stay up late at night, and we rise late in the morning. + +To stay up late into the night is always bad. Let us be as ideal as we +may, when the sun goes down the natural mode of life changes in us. +The mind changes its activity. As the soul gradually goes passive, +before yielding up its sway, the mind falls into its second phase of +activity. It collects the results of the spent day into consciousness, +lays down the honey of quiet thought, or the bitter-sweet honey of the +gathered flower. It is the consciousness of that which is past. +Evening is our time to read history and tragedy and romance--all of +which are the utterance of that which is past, that which is over, +that which is finished, is concluded: either sweetly concluded, or +bitterly. Evening is the time for this. + +But evening is the time also for revelry, for drink, for passion. +Alcohol enters the blood and acts as the sun's rays act. It inflames +into life, it liberates into energy and consciousness. But by a +process of combustion. That life of the day which we have not lived, +by means of sun-born alcohol we can now flare into sensation, +consciousness, energy and passion, and live it out. It is a liberation +from the laws of idealism, a release from the restriction of control +and fear. It is the blood bursting into consciousness. But naturally +the course of the liberated consciousness may be in either direction: +sharper mental action, greater fervor of spiritual emotion, or deeper +sensuality. Nowadays the last is becoming much more unusual. + +The active mind-consciousness of the night is a form of +retrospection, or else it is a form of impulsive exclamation, direct +from the blood, and unbalanced. Because the active physical +consciousness of the night is the blood-consciousness, the most +elemental form of consciousness. Vision is perhaps our highest form of +_dynamic_ upper consciousness. But our deepest lower consciousness is +blood-consciousness. + +And the dynamic lower centers are swayed from the blood. When the +blood rouses into its night intensity, it naturally kindles first the +lowest dynamic centers. It transfers its voice and its fire to the +great hypogastric plexus, which governs, with the help of the sacral +ganglion, the flow of urine through us, but which also voices the deep +swaying of the blood in sex passion. Sex is our deepest form of +consciousness. It is utterly non-ideal, non-mental. It is pure +blood-consciousness. It is the basic consciousness of the blood, the +nearest thing in us to pure material consciousness. It is the +consciousness of the night, when the soul is _almost_ asleep. + +The blood-consciousness is the first and last knowledge of the living +soul: the depths. It is the soul acting in part only, speaking with +its first hoarse half-voice. And blood-consciousness cannot operate +purely until the soul has put off all its manifold degrees and forms +of upper consciousness. As the self falls back into quiescence, it +draws itself from the brain, from the great nerve-centers, into the +blood, where at last it will sleep. But as it draws and folds itself +livingly in the blood, at the dark and powerful hour, it sends out its +great call. For even the blood is alone and in part, and needs an +answer. Like the waters of the Red Sea, the blood is divided in a dual +polarity between the sexes. As the night falls and the consciousness +sinks deeper, suddenly the blood is heard hoarsely calling. Suddenly +the deep centers of the sexual consciousness rouse to their +spontaneous activity. Suddenly there is a deep circuit established +between me and the woman. Suddenly the sea of blood which is me heaves +and rushes towards the sea of blood which is her. There is a moment of +pure frictional crisis and contact of blood. And then all the blood in +me ebbs back into its ways, transmuted, changed. And this is the +profound basis of my renewal, my deep blood renewal. + +And this has nothing to do with pretty faces or white skin or rosy +breasts or any of the rest of the trappings of sexual love. These +trappings belong to the day. Neither eyes nor hands nor mouth have +anything to do with the final massive and dark collision of the blood +in the sex crisis, when the strange flash of electric transmutation +passes through the blood of the man and the blood of the woman. They +fall apart and sleep in their transmutation. + +But even in its profoundest, and most elemental movements, the soul is +still individual. Even in its most material consciousness, it is still +integral and individual. You would think the great blood-stream of +mankind was one and homogeneous. And it is indeed more nearly one, +more near to homogeneity than anything else within us. The +blood-stream of mankind is almost homogeneous. + +But it isn't homogeneous. In the first place, it is dual in a perfect +dark dynamic polarity, the sexual polarity. No getting away from the +fact that the blood of woman is dynamically polarized in opposition, +or in difference to the blood of man. The crisis of their contact in +sex connection is the moment of establishment of a new flashing +circuit throughout the whole sea: the dark, burning red waters of our +under-world rocking in a new dynamic rhythm in each of us. And then in +the second place, the blood of an individual is his _own_ blood. That +is, it is individual. And though we have a potential dynamic sexual +connection, we men, with almost every woman, yet the great outstanding +fact of the individuality even of the blood makes us need a +corresponding individuality in the woman we are to embrace. The more +individual the man or woman, the more unsatisfactory is a +non-individual connection: promiscuity. The more individual, the more +does our blood cry out for its own specific answer, an individual +woman, blood-polarized with us. + +We have made the mistake of idealism again. We have thought that the +woman who thinks and talks as we do will be the blood-answer. And we +force it to be so. To our disaster. The woman who thinks and talks as +we do is almost sure to have no dynamic blood-polarity with us. The +dynamic blood-polarity would make her different from me, and not like +me in her thought mode. Blood-sympathy is so much deeper than +thought-mode, that it may result in very different expression, +verbally. + +We have made the mistake of turning life inside out: of dragging the +day-self into the night, and spreading the night-self over into the +day. We have made love and sex a matter of seeing and hearing and of +day-conscious manipulation. We have made men and women come together +on the grounds of this superficial likeness and commonalty--their +mental, and upper sympathetic consciousness. And so we have forced the +blood to submission. Which means we force it into disintegration. + +We have too much light in the night, and too much sleep in the day. It +is an evil thing for us to prolong as we do the mental, visual, ideal +consciousness far into the night when the hour has come for this upper +consciousness to fade, for the blood alone to know and to act. By +provoking the reaction of the great blood-stress, the sex-reaction, +from the upper, outer mental consciousness and mental lasciviousness +of conscious purpose, we thereby destroy the very blood in our bodies. +We prevent it from having its own dynamic sway. We prevent it from +coming to its own dynamic crisis and connection, from finding its own +fundamental being. No matter how we work our sex, from the upper or +outer consciousness, we don't achieve anything but the falsification +and impoverishment of our own blood-life. We have no choice. Either we +must withdraw from interference, or slowly deteriorate. + +We have made a corresponding mistake in sleeping on into the day. +Once the sun rises our constitution changes. Once the sun is well up +our sleep--supposing our life fairly normal--is no longer truly sleep. +When the sun comes up the centers of active dynamic upper +consciousness begin to wake. The blood changes its vibration and even +its chemical constitution. And then we too ought to wake. We do +ourselves great damage by sleeping too long into the day. The +half-hour's sleep after midday meal is a readjustment. But the long +hours of morning sleep are just a damage. We submit our now active +centers of upper consciousness to the dominion of the blood-automatic +flow. We chain ourselves down in our morning sleep. We transmute the +morning's blood-strength into false dreams and into an ever-increasing +force of inertia. And naturally, in the same line of inertia we +persist from bad to worse. + +With the result that our chained-down, active nerve-centers are +half-shattered before we arise. We never become newly day-conscious, +because we have subjected our powerful centers of day-consciousness to +be trampled and wasted into dreams and inertia by the heavy flow of +the blood-automatism in the morning sleeps. Then we arise with a +feeling of the monotony and automatism of life. There is no good, +glad refreshing. We feel tired to start with. And so we protract our +day-consciousness on into the night, when we _do_ at last begin to +come awake, and we tell ourselves we must sleep, sleep, sleep in the +morning and the daytime. It is better to sleep only six hours than to +prolong sleep on and on when the sun has risen. Every man and woman +should be forced out of bed soon after the sun has risen: particularly +the nervous ones. And forced into physical activity. Soon after dawn +the vast majority of people should be hard at work. If not, they will +soon be nervously diseased. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE LOWER SELF + + +So it comes about that the moon is the planet of our nights, as the +sun of our days. And this is not just accidental, or even mechanical. +The influence of the moon upon the tides and upon us is not just an +accident in phenomena. It is the result of the creation of the +universe by life itself. It was life itself which threw the moon apart +on the one hand, the sun on the other. And it is life itself which +keeps the dynamic-vital relation constant between the moon and the +living individuals of the globe. The moon is as dependent upon the +life of individuals, for her continued existence, as each single +individual is dependent upon the moon. + +The same with the sun. The sun sets and has his perfect polarity in +the life-circuit established between him and all living individuals. +Break that circuit, and the sun breaks. Without man, beasts, +butterflies, trees, toads, the sun would gutter out like a spent lamp. +It is the life-emission from individuals which feeds his burning and +establishes his sun-heart in its powerful equilibrium. + +The same with the moon. She lives from us, primarily, and we from her. +Everything is a question of relativity. Not only is every force +relative to other force or forces, but every existence is relative to +other existences. Not only does the life of man depend on man, beast, +and herb, but on the sun and moon, and the stars. And in another +manner, the existence of the moon depends absolutely on the life of +herb, beast, and man. The existence of the moon depends upon the life +of individuals, that which alone is original. Without the life of +individuals the moon would fall asunder. And the moon particularly, +because she is polarized dynamically to this, our own earth. We do not +know what far-off life breathes between the stars and the sun. But our +life alone supports the moon. Just as the moon is the pole of our +single terrestrial individuality. + +Therefore we must know that between the moon and each individual being +exists a vital dynamic flow. The life of individuals depends directly +upon the moon, just as the moon depends directly upon the life of +individuals. + +But in what way does the life of individuals depend directly upon the +moon? + +The moon is the mother of darkness. She is the clue to the active +darkness. And we, below the waist, we have our being in darkness. +Below the waist we are sightless. When, in the daytime, our life is +polarized upwards, towards the open, sun-wakened eyes and the mind +which sees in vision, then the powerful dynamic centers of the lower +body act in subservience, in their negative polarity. And then we flow +upwards, we go forth seeking the universe, in vision, speech, and +thought--we go forth to see all things, to hear all things, to know +all things by acquaintance and by knowledge. One flood of dynamic flow +are we, upwards polarized, in our tallness and our wide-eyed spirit +seeking to bring all the universe into the range of our conscious +individuality, and eager always to make new worlds, out of this old +world, to bud new green tips on the tree of life. Just as a tree would +die if it were not making new green tips upon all its vast old world +of a body, so the whole universe would perish if man and beast and +herb were not always putting forth a newness: the toad taking a +vivider color, spreading his hands a little more gently, developing a +more ruse intelligence, the birds adding a new note to their speech +and song, a new sharp swerve to their flight, a new nicety to their +nests; and man, making new worlds, new civilizations. If it were not +for this striving into new creation on the part of living individuals, +the universe would go dead, gradually, gradually and fall asunder. +Like a tree that ceases to put forth new green tips, and to advance +out a little further. + +But each new tip arises out of the apparent death of the old, the +preceding one. Old leaves have got to fall, old forms must die. And if +men must at certain periods fall into death in millions, why, so must +the leaves fall every single autumn. And dead leaves make good mold. +And so dead men. Even dead men's souls. + +So if death has to be the goal for a great number, then let it be so. +If America must invent this poison-gas, let her. When death is our +goal of goals we shall invent the means of death, let our professions +of benevolence be what they will. + +But this time, it seems to me, we have consciously and responsibly to +carry ourselves through the winter-period, the period of death and +denudation: that is, some of us have, some _nation_ even must. For +there are not now, as in the Roman times, any great reservoirs of +energetic barbaric life. Goths, Gauls, Germans, Slavs, Tartars. The +world is very full of people, but all fixed in civilizations of their +own, and they all have all our vices, all our mechanisms, and all our +means of destruction. This time, the leading civilization cannot die +out as Greece, Rome, Persia died. It must suffer a great collapse, +maybe. But it must carry through all the collapse the living clue to +the next civilization. It's no good thinking we can leave it to China +or Japan or India or Africa--any of the great swarms. + +And here we are, we don't look much like carrying through to a new +era. What have we got that will carry through? The latest craze is Mr. +Einstein's Relativity Theory. Curious that everybody catches fire at +the word Relativity. There must be something in the mere suggestion, +which we have been waiting for. But what? As far as I can see, +Relativity means, for the common amateur mind, that there is no one +absolute force in the physical universe, to which all other forces may +be referred. There is no one single absolute central principle +governing the world. The great cosmic forces or mechanical principles +can only be known in their relation to one another, and can only exist +in their relation to one another. But, says Einstein, this relation +between the mechanical forces is constant, and may be expressed by a +mathematical formula: which mathematical formula may be used to equate +all mechanical forces of the universe. + +I hope that is not scientifically all wrong. It is what I understand +of the Einstein theory. What I doubt is the equation formula. It seems +to me, also, that the velocity of light through space is the _deus ex +machina_ in Einstein's physics. Somebody will some day put salt on the +tail of light as it travels through space, and then its simple +velocity will split up into something complex, and the Relativity +formula will fall to bits.--But I am a confirmed outsider, so I'll +hold my tongue. + +All I know is that people have got the word Relativity into their +heads, and catch-words always refer to some latent idea or conception +in the popular mind. It has taken a Jew to knock the last center-pin +out of our ideally spinning universe. The Jewish intelligence for +centuries has been picking holes in our ideal system--scientific and +sociological. Very good thing for us. Now Mr. Einstein, we are glad to +say, has pulled out the very axle pin. At least that is how the vulgar +mind understands it. The equation formula doesn't count.--So now, the +universe, according to the popular mind, can wobble about without +being pinned down.--Really, an anarchical conclusion. But the Jewish +mind insidiously drives us to anarchical conclusions. We are glad to +be driven from false, automatic fixities, anyhow. And once we are +driven right on to nihilism we may find a way through. + +So, there is nothing absolute left in the universe. Nothing. Lord +Haldane says pure knowledge is absolute. As far as it goes, no doubt. +But pure knowledge is only such a tiny bit of the universe, and always +relative to the thing known and to the knower. + +I feel inclined to Relativity myself. I think there is no one absolute +principle in the universe. I think everything is relative. But I also +feel, most strongly, that in itself each individual living creature is +absolute: in its own being. And that all things in the universe are +just relative to the individual living creature. And that individual +living creatures are relative to each other. + +And what about a goal? There is no final goal. But every step taken +has its own little relative goal. So what about the next step? + +Well, first and foremost, that every individual creature shall come to +its own particular and individual fullness of being.--Very nice, very +pretty--but _how_? Well, through a living dynamic relation to other +creatures.--Very nice again, pretty little adjectives. But what _sort_ +of a living dynamic relation?--Well, _not_ the relation of love, +that's one thing, nor of brotherhood, nor equality. The next relation +has got to be a relationship of men towards men in a spirit of +unfathomable trust and responsibility, service and leadership, +obedience and pure authority. Men have got to choose their leaders, +and obey them to the death. And it must be a system of culminating +aristocracy, society tapering like a pyramid to the supreme leader. + +All of which sounds very distasteful at the moment. But upon all the +vital lessons we have learned during our era of love and spirit and +democracy we can found our new order. + +We wanted to be all of a piece. And we couldn't bring it off. Because +we just _aren't_ all of a piece. We wanted first to have nothing but +nice daytime selves, awfully nice and kind and refined. But it didn't +work. Because whether we want it or not, we've got night-time selves. +And the most spiritual woman ever born or made has to perform her +natural functions just like anybody else. We must _always_ keep in +line with this fact. + +Well, then, we have night-time selves. And the night-self is the very +basis of the dynamic self. The blood-consciousness and the +blood-passion is the very source and origin of us. Not that we can +_stay_ at the source. Nor even make a _goal_ of the source, as Freud +does. The business of living is to travel away from the source. But +you must start every single day fresh from the source. You must rise +every day afresh out of the dark sea of the blood. + +When you go to sleep at night, you have to say: "Here dies the man I +am and know myself to be." And when you rise in the morning you have +to say: "Here rises an unknown quantity which is still myself." + +The self which rises naked every morning out of the dark sleep of the +passionate, hoarsely-calling blood: this is the unit for the next +society. And the polarizing of the passionate blood in the individual +towards life, and towards leader, this must be the dynamic of the next +civilization. The intense, passionate yearning of the soul towards the +soul of a stronger, greater individual, and the passionate +blood-belief in the fulfillment of this yearning will give men the +next motive for life. + +We have to sink back into the darkness and the elemental consciousness +of the blood. And from this rise again. But there is no rising until +the bath of darkness and extinction is accomplished. + +As social units, as civilized men we have to do what we do as physical +organisms. Every day, the sun sets from the sky, and darkness falls, +and every day, when this happens, the tide of life turns in us. +Instead of flowing upwards and outwards towards mental consciousness +and activity, it turns back, to flow downwards. Downwards towards the +digestion processes, downwards further to the great sexual +conjunctions, downwards to sleep. + +This is the soul now retreating, back from the outer life of day, back +to the origins. And so, it stays its hour at the first great sensual +stations, the solar plexus and the lumbar ganglion. But the tide ebbs +on, down to the immense, almost inhuman passionate darkness of sex, +the strange and moon-like intensity of the hypogastric plexus and the +sacral ganglion, then deep, deeper, past the last great station of the +darkest psyche, down to the earth's center. Then we sleep. + +And the moon is the tide-turner. The moon is the great cosmic pole +which calls us back, back out of our day-self, back through the +moonlit darknesses of the sensual planes, to sleep. It is the moon +that sways the blood, and sways us back into the extinction of the +blood.--And as the soul retreats back into the sea of its own +darkness, the mind, stage by stage, enjoys the mental consciousness +that belongs to this retreat back into the sensual deeps; and then it +goes extinguished. There is sleep. + +And so we resolve back towards our elementals. We dissolve back, out +of the upper consciousness, out of mind and sight and speech, back, +down into the deep and massive, swaying consciousness of the dark, +living blood. At the last hour of sex I am no more than a powerful +wave of mounting blood. Which seeks to surge and join with the +answering sea in the other individual. When the sea of individual +blood which I am at that hour heaves and finds its pure contact with +the sea of individual blood which is the woman at that hour, then each +of us enters into the wholeness of our deeper infinitude, our profound +fullness of being, in the ocean of our oneness and our consciousness. + +This is under the spell of the moon, of sea-born Aphrodite, mother and +bitter goddess. For I am carried away from my sunny day-self into +this other tremendous self, where knowledge will not save me, but +where I must obey as the sea obeys the tides. Yet however much I go, I +know that I am all the while myself, in my going. + +This then is the duality of my day and my night being: a duality so +bitter to an adolescent. For the adolescent thinks with shame and +terror of his night. He would wish to have no night-self. But it is +Moloch, and he cannot escape it. + +The tree is born of its roots and its leaves. And we of our days and +our nights. Without the night-consummation we are trees without roots. + +And the night-consummation takes place under the spell of the moon. It +is one pure motion of meeting and oneing. But even so, it is a +circuit, not a straight line. One pure motion of meeting and oneing, +until the flash breaks forth, when the two are one. And this, this +flashing moment of the ignition of two seas of blood, this is the +moment of begetting. But the begetting of a child is less than the +begetting of the man and the woman. Woman is begotten of man at that +moment, into her greater self: and man is begotten of woman. This is +the main. And that which cannot be fulfilled, perfected in the two +individuals, that which cannot take fire into individual life, this +trickles down and is the seed of a new life, destined ultimately to +fulfill that which the parents could not fulfill. So it is for ever. + +Sex then is a polarization of the individual blood in man towards the +individual blood in woman. It is more, also. But in its prime +functional reality it is this. And sex union means bringing into +connection the dynamic poles of sex in man and woman. + +In sex we have our basic, most elemental being. Here we have our most +elemental contact. It is from the hypogastric plexus and the sacral +ganglion that the dark forces of manhood and womanhood sparkle. From +the dark plexus of sympathy run out the acute, intense sympathetic +vibrations direct to the corresponding pole. Or so it should be, in +genuine passionate love. There is no mental interference. There is +even no interference of the upper centers. Love is supposed to be +blind. Though modern love wears strong spectacles. + +But love is really blind. Without sight or scent or hearing the +powerful magnetic current vibrates from the hypogastric plexus in the +female, vibrating on to the air like some intense wireless message. +And there is immediate response from the sacral ganglion in some +male. And then sight and day-consciousness begin to fade. In the lower +animals apparently any male can receive the vibration of any female: +and if need be, even across long distances of space. But the higher +the development the more individual the attunement. Every wireless +station can only receive those messages which are in its own vibration +key. So with sex in specialized individuals. From the powerful dynamic +center the female sends out her dark summons, the intense dark +vibration of sex. And according to her nature, she receives her +responses from the males. The male enters the magnetic field of the +female. He vibrates helplessly in response. There is established at +once a dynamic circuit, more or less powerful. It would seem as if, +while ever life remains free and wild and independent, the +sex-circuit, while it lasts, is omnipotent. There is one electric flow +which encompasses one male and one female, or one male and one +particular group of females all polarized in the same key of +vibration. + +This circuit of vital sex magnetism, at first loose and wide, +gradually closes and becomes more powerful, contracts and grows more +intense, until the two individuals arrive into contact. And even then +the pulse and flow of attraction and recoil varies. In free wild life, +each touch brings about an intense recoil, and each recoil causes an +intense sympathetic attraction. So goes on the strange battle of +desire, until the consummation is reached. + +It is the precise parallel of what happens in a thunder-storm, when +the dynamic forces of the moon and the sun come into collision. The +result is threefold: first, the electric flash, then the birth of pure +water, new water. + +So it is in sex relation. There is a threefold result. First, the +flash of pure sensation and of real electricity. Then there is the +birth of an entirely new state of blood in each partner. And then +there is the liberation. + +But the main thing, as in the thunder-storm, is the absolute renewal +of the atmosphere: in this case, the blood. It would no doubt be found +that the electro-dynamic condition of the white and red corpuscles of +the blood was quite different after sex union, and that the chemical +composition of the fluid of the blood was quite changed. + +And in this renewal lies the great magic of sex. The life of an +individual goes on apparently the same from day to day. But as a +matter of fact there is an inevitable electric accumulation in the +nerves and the blood, an accumulation which weighs there and broods +there with intolerable pressure. And the only possible means of relief +and renewal is in pure passional interchange. There is and must be a +pure passional interchange from the upper self, as when men unite in +some great creative or religious or constructive activity, or as when +they fight each other to the death. The great goal of creative or +constructive activity, or of heroic victory in fight, _must_ always be +the goal of the daytime self. But the very possibility of such a goal +arises out of the vivid dynamism of the conscious blood. And the blood +in an individual finds its great renewal in a perfected sex circuit. + +A perfected sex circuit and a successful sex union. And there can be +no successful sex union unless the greater hope of purposive, +constructive activity fires the soul of the man all the time: or the +hope of passionate, purposive _destructive_ activity: the two amount +religiously to the same thing, within the individual. Sex as an end in +itself is a disaster: a vice. But an ideal purpose which has no roots +in the deep sea of passionate sex is a greater disaster still. And now +we have only these two things: sex as a fatal goal, which is the +essential theme of modern tragedy: or ideal purpose as a deadly +parasite. Sex passion as a goal in itself always leads to tragedy. +There must be the great purposive inspiration always present. But the +automatic ideal-purpose is not even a tragedy, it is a slow +humiliation and sterility. + +The great thing is to keep the sexes pure. And by pure we don't mean +an ideal sterile innocence and similarity between boy and girl. We +mean pure maleness in a man, pure femaleness in a woman. Woman is +really polarized downwards, towards the center of the earth. Her deep +positivity is in the downward flow, the moon-pull. And man is +polarized upwards, towards the sun and the day's activity. Women and +men are dynamically different, in everything. Even in the mind, where +we seem to meet, we are really utter strangers. We may speak the same +verbal language, men and women: as Turk and German might both speak +Latin. But _whatever_ a man says, his meaning is something quite +different and changed when it passes through a woman's ears. And +though you reverse the sexual polarity, the flow between the sexes, +still the difference is the same. The _apparent_ mutual understanding, +in companionship between a man and a woman, is always an illusion, +and always breaks down in the end. + +Woman can polarize her consciousness upwards. She can obtain a hand +even over her sex receptivity. She can divert even the electric spasm +of coition into her upper consciousness: it was the trick which the +snake and the apple between them taught her. The snake, whose +consciousness is _only_ dynamic, and non-cerebral. The snake, who has +no mental life, but only an intensely vivid dynamic mind, he envied +the human race its mental consciousness. And he knew, this intensely +wise snake, that the one way to make humanity pay more than the price +of mental consciousness was to pervert woman into mentality: to +stimulate her into the upper flow of consciousness. + +For the true polarity of consciousness in woman is downwards. Her +deepest consciousness is in the loins and belly. Even when perverted, +it is so. The great flow of female consciousness is downwards, down to +the weight of the loins and round the circuit of the feet. Pervert +this, and make a false flow upwards, to the breast and head, and you +get a race of "intelligent" women, delightful companions, tricky +courtesans, clever prostitutes, noble idealists, devoted friends, +interesting mistresses, efficient workers, brilliant managers, women +as good as men at all the manly tricks: and better, because they are +so very headlong once they go in for men's tricks. But then, after a +while, pop it all goes. The moment woman has got man's ideals and +tricks drilled into her, the moment she is competent in the manly +world--there's an end of it. She's had enough. She's had more than +enough. She hates the thing she has embraced. She becomes absolutely +perverse, and her one end is to prostitute herself and her ideals to +sex. Which is her business at the present moment. + +We bruise the serpent's head: his flat and brainless head. But his +revenge of bruising our heel is a good one. The heels, through which +the powerful downward circuit flows: these are bruised in us, numbed +with a horrible neurotic numbness. The dark strong flow that polarizes +us to the earth's center is hampered, broken. We become flimsy fungoid +beings, with no roots and no hold in the earth, like mushrooms. The +serpent has bruised our heel till we limp. The lame gods, the enslaved +gods, the toiling limpers moaning for the woman. You don't find the +sun and moon playing at pals in the sky. Their beams cross the great +gulf which is between them. + +So with man and woman. They must stand clear again. They must fight +their way out of their self-consciousness: there is nothing else. Or, +rather, each must fight the other out of self-consciousness. Instead +of this leprous forbearance which we are taught to practice in our +intimate relationships, there should be the most intense open +antagonism. If your wife flirts with other men, and you don't like it, +say so before them all, before wife and man and all, say you won't +have it. If she seems to you false, in any circumstance, tell her so, +angrily, furiously, and stop her. Never mind about being justified. If +you hate anything she does, turn on her in a fury. Harry her, and make +her life a hell, so long as the real hot rage is in you. Don't +silently hate her, or silently forbear. It is such a dirty trick, so +mean and ungenerous. If you feel a burning rage, turn on her and give +it to her, and _never_ repent. It'll probably hurt you much more than +it hurts her. But never repent for your real hot rages, whether +they're "justifiable" or not. If you care one sweet straw for the +woman, and if she makes you that you can't bear any more, give it to +her, and if your heart weeps tears of blood afterwards, tell her +you're thankful she's got it for once, and you wish she had it worse. + +The same with wives and their husbands. If a woman's husband gets on +her nerves, she should fly at him. If she thinks him too sweet and +smarmy with other people, she should let him have it to his nose, +straight out. She should lead him a dog's life, and never swallow her +bile. + +With wife or husband, you should never swallow your bile. It makes you +go all wrong inside. Always let fly, tooth and nail, and never repent, +no matter what sort of a figure you make. + +We have a vice of love, of softness and sweetness and smarminess and +intimacy and promiscuous kindness and all that sort of thing. We think +it's so awfully nice of us to be like that, in ourselves. But in our +wives or our husbands it gets on our nerves horribly. Yet we think it +oughtn't to, so we swallow our spleen. + +We shouldn't. When Jesus said "if thine eye offend thee, pluck it +out," he was beside the point. The eye doesn't really offend us. We +are rather fond of our own squint eye. It only offends the person who +cares for us. And it's up to this person to pluck it out. + +This holds particularly good of the love and intimacy vice. It'll +never offend us in ourselves. While it will be gall and wormwood to +our wife or husband. And it is on this promiscuous love and intimacy +and kindness and sweetness, all a vice, that our self-consciousness +really rests. If we are battered out of this, we shall be battered out +of self-consciousness. + +And so, men, drive your wives, beat them out of their +self-consciousness and their soft smarminess and good, lovely idea of +themselves. Absolutely tear their lovely opinion of themselves to +tatters, and make them look a holy ridiculous sight in their own eyes. +Wives, do the same to your husbands. + +But fight for your life, men. Fight your wife out of her own +self-conscious preoccupation with herself. Batter her out of it till +she's stunned. Drive her back into her own true mode. Rip all her nice +superimposed modern-woman and wonderful-creature garb off her. Reduce +her once more to a naked Eve, and send the apple flying. + +Make her yield to her own real unconscious self, and absolutely stamp +on the self that she's got in her head. Drive her forcibly back, back +into her own true unconscious. + +And then you've got a harder thing still to do. Stop her from looking +on you as her "lover." Cure her of that, if you haven't cured her +before. Put the fear of the Lord into her that way. And make her know +she's got to believe in you again, and in the deep purpose you stand +for. But before you can do that, you've got to _stand_ for some deep +purpose. It's no good faking one up. You won't take a woman in, not +really. Even when she _chooses_ to be taken in, for prettiness' sake, +it won't do you any good. + +But combat her. Combat her in her sexual pertinacity, and in her +secret glory or arrogance in the sexual goal. Combat her in her +cock-sure belief that she "knows" and that she is "right." Take it all +out of her. Make her yield once more to the male leadership: if you've +got anywhere to lead to. If you haven't, best leave the woman alone; +she has _one_ goal of her own, anyhow, and it's better than your +nullity and emptiness. + +You've got to take a new resolution into your soul, and break off from +the old way. You've got to know that you're a man, and being a man +means you must go on alone, ahead of the woman, to break a way through +the old world into the new. And you've got to be alone. And you've got +to start off ahead. And if you don't know which direction to take, +look round for the man your heart will point out to you. And +follow--and never look back. Because if Lot's wife, looking back, was +turned to a pillar of salt, these miserable men, for ever looking back +to their women for guidance, they are miserable pillars of half-rotten +tears. + +You'll have to fight to make a woman believe in you as a real man, a +real pioneer. No man is a man unless to his woman he is a pioneer. +You'll have to fight still harder to make her yield her goal to yours: +her night goal to your day goal. The moon, the planet of women, sways +us back from our day-self, sways us back from our real social unison, +sways us back, like a retreating tide, in a friction of criticism and +separation and social disintegration. That is woman's inevitable mode, +let her words be what they will. Her goal is the deep, sensual +individualism of secrecy and night-exclusiveness, hostile, with +guarded doors. And you'll have to fight very hard to make a woman +yield her goal to yours, to make her, in her own soul, _believe_ in +your goal as the goal beyond, in her goal as the way by which you go. +She'll never believe until you have your soul filled with a profound +and absolutely inalterable purpose, that will yield to nothing, least +of all to her. She'll never believe until, in your soul, you are cut +off and gone ahead, into the dark. + +She may of course already love you, and love you for yourself. But the +love will be a nest of scorpions unless it is overshadowed by a little +fear or awe of your further purpose, a living _belief_ in your going +beyond her, into futurity. + +But when once a woman _does_ believe in her man, in the pioneer which +he is, the pioneer who goes on ahead beyond her, into the darkness in +front, and who may be lost to her for ever in this darkness; when once +she knows the pain and beauty of this belief, knows that the +loneliness of waiting and following is inevitable, that it must be so; +ah, then, how wonderful it is! How wonderful it is to come back to +her, at evening, as she sits half in fear and waits! How good it is to +come home to her! How good it is then when the night falls! How richly +the evening passes! And then, for her, at last, all that she has lost +during the day to have it again between her arms, all that she has +missed, to have it poured out for her, and a richness and a wonder she +had never expected. It is her hour, her goal. That's what it is to +have a wife. + +Ah, how good it is to come home to your wife when she _believes_ in +you and submits to your purpose that is beyond her. Then, how +wonderful this nightfall is! How rich you feel, tired, with all the +burden of the day in your veins, turning home! Then you too turn to +your other goal: to the splendor of darkness between her arms. And you +know the goal is there for you: how rich that feeling is. And you feel +an unfathomable gratitude to the woman who loves you and believes in +your purpose and receives you into the magnificent dark gratification +of her embrace. That's what it is to have a wife. + +But no man ever had a wife unless he served a great predominant +purpose. Otherwise, he has a lover, a mistress. No matter how much she +may be married to him, unless his days have a living purpose, +constructive or destructive, but a purpose beyond her and all she +stands for; unless his days have this purpose, and his soul is really +committed to his purpose, she will not be a wife, she will be only a +mistress and he will be her lover. + +If the man has no purpose for his days, then to the woman alone +remains the goal of her nights: the great sex goal. And this goal is +no goal, but always cries for the something beyond: for the rising in +the morning and the going forth beyond, the man disappearing ahead +into the distance of futurity, that which his purpose stands for, the +future. The sex goal needs, absolutely needs, this further departure. +And if there _be_ no further departure, no great way of belief on +ahead: and if sex is the starting point and the goal as well: then sex +becomes like the bottomless pit, insatiable. It demands at last the +departure into death, the only available beyond. Like Carmen, or like +Anna Karenina. When sex is the starting point and the returning point +both, then the only issue is death. Which is plain as a pike-staff in +"Carmen" or "Anna Karenina," and is the theme of almost _all_ modern +tragedy. Our one hackneyed, hackneyed theme. Ecstasies and agonies of +love, and final passion of death. Death is the only pure, beautiful +conclusion of a great passion. Lovers, pure lovers should say "Let it +be so." + +And one is always tempted to say "Let it be so." But no, let it be not +so. Only I say this, let it be a great passion and then death, rather +than a false or faked purpose. Tolstoi said "No" to the passion and +the death conclusion. And then drew into the dreary issue of a false +conclusion. His books were better than his life. Better the woman's +goal, sex and death, than some _false_ goal of man's. + +Better Anna Karenina and Vronsky a thousand times than Natasha and +that porpoise of a Pierre. This pretty, slightly sordid couple tried +so hard to kid themselves that the porpoise Pierre was puffing with +great purpose. Better Vronsky than Tolstoi himself, in my mind. Better +Vronsky's final statement: "As a soldier I am still some good. As a +man I am a ruin"--better that than Tolstoi and Tolstoi-ism and that +beastly peasant blouse the old man wore. + +Better passion and death than any more of these "isms." No more of the +old purpose done up in aspic. Better passion and death. + +But still--we _might_ live, mightn't we? + +For heaven's sake answer plainly "No," if you feel like it. No good +temporizing. + + + + +EPILOGUE + + +"_Tutti i salmi finiscono in gloria._" + +All the psalms wind up with the Gloria.--"As it was in the beginning, +is now, and ever shall be, World without end. Amen." + +Well, then, Amen. + +I hope you say Amen! along with me, dear little reader: if there be +any dear little reader who has got so far. If not, I say Amen! all by +myself.--But don't you think the show is all over. I've got another +volume up my sleeve, and after a year or two years, when I have shaken +it down my sleeve, I shall bring it and lay it at the foot of your +Liberty statue, oh Columbia, as I do this one. + +I suppose Columbia means the States.--"Hail Columbia!"--I suppose, +etymologically, it is a nest of turtle-doves, Lat. _columba_, a dove. +Coo me softly, then, Columbia; don't roar me like the sucking doves of +the critics of my "Psychoanalysis and the Unconscious." + +And when I lay this little book at the foot of the Liberty statue, +that brawny lady is not to look down her nose and bawl: "Do you see +any green in my eye?" Of course I don't, dear lady. I only see the +reflection of that torch--or is it a carrot?--which you are holding up +to light the way into New York harbor. Well, many an ass has strayed +across the uneasy paddock of the Atlantic, to nibble your carrot, dear +lady. And I must say, you can keep on slicing off nice little +carrot-slices of guineas and doubloons for an extraordinarily +inexhaustible long time. And innumerable asses can collect themselves +nice little heaps of golden carrot-slices, and then lift up their +heads and brag over them with fairly pan-demoniac yells of +gratification. Of course I don't see any green in your eye, dear +Libertas, unless it is the smallest glint from the carrot-tips. The +gleam in your eye is golden, oh Columbia! + +Nevertheless, and in spite of all this, up trots this here little ass +and makes you a nice present of this pretty book. You needn't sniff, +and glance at your carrot-sceptre, lady Liberty. You needn't throw +down the thinnest carrot-paring you can pare off, and then say: "Why +should I pay for this tripe, this wordy mass of rather revolting +nonsense!" You can't pay for it, darling. If I didn't make you a +present of it you could never buy it. So don't shake your +carrot-sceptre and feel supercilious. Here's a gift for you, Missis. +You can look in its mouth, too. Mind it doesn't bite you.--No, you +needn't bother to put your carrot behind your back, nobody wants to +snatch it. + +How do you do, Columbia! Look, I brought you a posy: this nice little +posy of words and wisdom which I made for you in the woods of +Ebersteinburg, on the borders of the Black Forest, near Baden Baden, +in Germany, in this summer of scanty grace but nice weather. I made it +specially for you--Whitman, for whom I have an immense regard, says +"These States." I suppose I ought to say: "Those States." If the +publisher would let me, I'd dedicate this book to you, to "Those +States." Because I wrote this book entirely for you, Columbia. You may +not take it as a compliment. You may even smell a tiny bit of +Schwarzwald sap in it, and be finally disgusted. I admit that trees +ought to think twice before they flourish in such a disgraced place as +the Fatherland. "_Chi va coi zoppi, all' anno zoppica._" But you've +not only to gather ye rosebuds while ye may, but _where_ ye may. And +so, as I said before, the Black Forest, etc. + +I know, Columbia, dear Libertas, you'll take my posy and put your +carrot aside for a minute, and smile, and say: "I'm sure, Mr. +Lawrence, it is a _long_ time since I had such a perfectly beautiful +bunch of ideas brought me." And I shall blush and look sheepish and +say: "So glad you think so. I believe you'll find they'll keep fresh +quite a long time, if you put them in water." Whereupon you, Columbia, +with real American gallantry: "Oh, they'll keep for _ever_, Mr. +Lawrence. They _couldn't_ be so cruel as to go and die, such perfectly +lovely-colored ideas. Lovely! Thank you ever, ever so much." + +Just think of it, Columbia, how pleased we shall be with one another: +and how much nicer it will be than if you snorted "High-falutin' +Nonsense"--or "Wordy mass of repulsive rubbish." + +When they were busy making Italy, and were just going to put it in +the oven to bake: that is, when Garibaldi and Vittorio Emmanuele had +won their victories at Caserta, Naples prepared to give them a +triumphant entry. So there sat the little king in his carriage: he had +short legs and huge swagger mustaches and a very big bump of +philoprogeniture. The town was all done up, in spite of the rain. And +down either side of the wide street were hasty statues of large, +well-fleshed ladies, each one holding up a fore-finger. We don't know +what the king thought. But the staff held their breath. The king's +appetite for strapping ladies was more than notorious, and naturally +it looked as if Naples had done it on purpose. + +As a matter of fact, the fore-finger meant _Italia Una_! "Italy shall +be one." Ask Don Sturzo. + +Now you see how risky statues are. How many nice little asses and +poets trot over the Atlantic and catch sight of Liberty holding up +this carrot of desire at arm's length, and fairly hear her say, as one +does to one's pug dog, with a lump of sugar: "Beg! Beg!"--and "Jump! +Jump, then!" And each little ass and poodle begins to beg and to jump, +and there's a rare game round about Liberty, zap, zap, zapperty-zap! + +Do lower the carrot, gentle Liberty, and let us talk nicely and +sensibly. I don't like you as a _carotaia_, precious. + +Talking about the moon, it is thrilling to read the announcements of +Professor Pickering of Harvard, that it's almost a dead cert that +there's life on our satellite. It is almost as certain that there's +life on the moon as it is certain there is life on Mars. The professor +bases his assertions on photographs--hundreds of photographs--of a +crater with a circumference of thirty-seven miles. I'm not satisfied. +I demand to know the yards, feet and inches. You don't come it over me +with the triteness of these round numbers. + +"Hundreds of photographic reproductions have proved irrefutably the +springing up at dawn, with an unbelievable rapidity, of vast fields of +foliage which come into blossom just as rapidly (sic!) and which +disappear in a maximum period of eleven days."--Again I'm not +satisfied. I want to know if they're cabbages, cress, mustard, or +marigolds or dandelions or daisies. Fields of foliage, mark you. And +_blossom_! Come now, if you can get so far, Professor Pickering, you +might have a shrewd guess as to whether the blossoms are good to eat, +or if they're purely for ornament. + +I am only waiting at last for an aeroplane to land on one of these +fields of foliage and find a donkey grazing peacefully. Hee-haw! + +"The plates moreover show that great blizzards, snow-storms, and +volcanic eruptions are also frequent." So no doubt the blossoms are +edelweiss. + +"We find," says the professor, "a living world at our very doors where +life in some respects resembles that of Mars." All I can say is: +"Pray come in, Mr. Moony. And how is your cousin Signor Martian?" + +Now I'm sure Professor Pickering's photographs and observations are +really wonderful. But his _explanations_! Come now, Columbia, where is +your High-falutin' Nonsense trumpet? Vast fields of foliage which +spring up at dawn (!!!) and come into blossom just as quickly (!!!!) +are rather too flowery even for my flowery soul. But there, truth is +stranger than fiction. + +I'll bet my moon against the Professor's, anyhow. + +So long, Columbia. _A riverderci._ + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FANTASIA OF THE UNCONSCIOUS*** + + +******* This file should be named 20654.txt or 20654.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/0/6/5/20654 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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