(10) As man progresses in the scale of Self Consciousness, however, he finds himself gradually detaching his sense of the Self from its sheaths and working tools. He begins to realize that there is an "I Am" within his being, to which all the feelings, the emotions, the desires, and even the thoughts and ideas, are but incidents. In this high stage he perceives himself to be an "I Am" surrounded by his mental and emotional tools and belongings—a Sun surrounded by its whirling worlds and activities. He realizes that the Ego is not only superior to the body, but also to the "mind" and feelings; and he learns now only how to master and intelligently use his body, but also how to intelligently master and use his Intellect and his Emotions.

(14) "While at work your thought is to be actually concentrated in it, undistracted by anything whatever irrelevant to the matter in hand—pounding away like a great engine, with giant power and perfect economy—no wear and tear of friction, or dislocation of parts owing to the working of different forces at the same time. Then when the work is finished, if there is no more occasion for the use of the machine, it must stop equally, absolutely—stop entirely—no worrying (as if a parcel of boys were allowed to play their devilments with a locomotive as soon as it was in the shed)—and the man must retire into that region of his consciousness where his true self dwells. I say that the power of the thought-machine itself is enormously increased by this faculty of letting it alone on the one hand, and of using it singly and with concentration on the other. It becomes a true tool, which a master-workman lays down when done with, but which only a bungler carries about with him all the time to show that he is the possessor of it." If the student will master the idea expressed in the above several quoted paragraphs, he will indeed become a Master of Mind. And if he will extend the idea to the field of his Emotions, and will put into practice there the same idea and method, he will also become a Master of his Emotions—an accomplishment of inestimable value. But, before doing either of these things he will find it necessary to come to a full realization of the fact that his Self—his real "I"—is a Something superior to and transcending both his Thought and his Emotions. He must enter into a vivid realization of the "I AM," before he may hope to be able to say "I Do" regarding these accomplishments. As the old Rosicrucian masters were wont to say: "When the 'I' knows itself to be the Self and Master, then only is it able to take its throne and enforce its will upon its subjects in the world of its thoughts, desires, feelings, and emotions." Not only may the enlightened "I" manifest its power along the lines above indicated, but it may also work its will in that region which popular modern psychology has chosen to call "The Sub-Conscious Mind." The latter is merely that great region of mind outside of the limits of the concentrated field of attention. In that great region a great part of the thinking of the average man is performed, the results being flashed into the field of his attention in a more or less haphazard way. Without going deeply into the subject, we would say here that the man who has grasped the reality and power of the "I" is able to issue positive commands to this part of his mental machinery, and not only cause it to perform the work of thought classification, induction and deduction, for him, but also to present the report of such work to his conscious attention at any specified time and place. The Masters of Mind relieve themselves of much of the drudgery of ordinary intellectual processes in this way, and obtain results logically perfect and ready for use, according to the measure of training and direction which they have been able to impose upon the aforesaid regions of their mind.

(7) A writer well says of this particular state of newly awakened consciousness: "Although this feeling of separateness and apartness grows less acute as the man grows older, yet it is always present to a greater or less degree until a still higher stage is reached, when it disappears. And this self-conscious stage is painful to many. Many find themselves entangled in a mass of mental states which one thinks is himself, or inextricably bound up with himself, and the struggle between the awakening Ego and its confining sheaths is very painful in some cases. And this becomes more painful as the individual advances in self-consciousness and nears the end at which he is to find deliverance. Man eats of the Tree of Knowledge and begins to suffer, and is driven out of the garden of Eden of the child consciousness in which the individual has lived like the birds, concerning not himself about the affairs of his higher nature. Man pays dearly for the gift of Self-Consciousness—yet it is worth it all, for finally he reaches heights of higher consciousness and is delivered from his burden." With the dawning awareness of one's own mental states, one comes to the realization that other human beings possess similar states, and one begins to speculate and reason about the working of these states in others. Then comes the desire to communicate one's ideas to the mind of the others, and to appeal to his feelings or reason. All this promotes the development of Intellect and logical thought, which is a marked characteristic of evolving human consciousness. Man begins to seek for an answer to the many "whys" which are presenting themselves to him, and he seeks to reason from the known to the unknown. He proceeds to invent appliances conducive to the accomplishment of things which lie desires. He harnesses his Intellect to the chariot of his Desires, and drives it along by command of Will, the chariot-driver.

(48) The Plane of the Human Passing from the Plane of Animal Consciousness to that of the Plane of Human Consciousness, we soon become cognizant of the presence of a new element of consciousness. This element is known as "Self Consciousness," or the consciousness which enables Man to say, knowingly, of himself "I am I"—to identify himself as the Thinker, apart from the thoughts; the Actor apart from the action; the Feeler, apart from the feelings; the Willer, apart from the voluntary activities; the Conscious Subject, apart from the phenomena of the senses. It is true that in the primitive forms of human life this new consciousness exists but as a faint dawn, but it is latent there; and as the ascent of Man progresses this new conscious flames out in higher and still higher forms. What this new element of Self-Consciousness is, we shall see presently.

(6) It is quite difficult to describe clearly in words the actual distinction between the highest forms of animal consciousness, and the lowest forms of the self-consciousness of the human being, although the difference between the highest animal and the highest man in this respect is quite marked. Admitting the difficulty of the explanation, it may be said that while even in the case of the highest animal the consciousness is always directed outward , in even the lowest type of man there is at least a faint degree of the inward direction of consciousness. The animal always thinks of outside things, while even the primitive man occasionally thinks of himself —makes himself the object of his own thoughts, in at least the sense of considering his own feelings, ideas, etc., and comparing them with others previously had by him. Or again, there is no "inside world," or "something within," to the animal; while man always (at least in some degree) is aware of the "inside world," or the "something within" as distinguished from the "something without." A favorite illustration of the psychologists, employed by them to point out the distinction between the "simple consciousness" of the higher animal, and the "self consciousness" of the human being is stated by a writer as follows: "A horse standing out in the cold sleet and rain undoubtedly feels the discomfort, and possibly the pain, for we know by observations that the animals feel both. But the horse is not able to analyze his mental states and to wonder when his piaster will come out to him; or to think how cruel it is to keep him out of the warm stable; or to wonder whether he will be taken out in the cold again tomorrow; or to feel envious of other horses who are indoors; or to wonder why he is compelled to be out on cold nights, etc., etc.—just as a man would do under the same circumstances. He is aware of the discomfort, just as is the man and he would run home if he could, just as would the man. But he is not able to pity himself, nor to think about his individuality or his personality, as would the man—nor does he wonder whether such a life is worth living, after all. He 'knows,' but does not 'know that he knows,' as does the man. The animal cannot 'know himself.'" But we must not fall into the error of supposing that the primitive man, or even the less-developed individuals of modern civilization, possess this faculty of self-conscious to a high degree. On the contrary, with both of these types this form of consciousness may be said to exist merely in a "dawn state"—and yet the "dawn" is a distinct advance upon the darkness of the mental night. A modern psychologist says of the comparatively higher forms of self-consciousness: "Many persons never have more than a misty idea of such a mental attitude. They always take themselves for granted, and never turn the gaze inward." The development of the higher forms of self-consciousness may be noted in the gradual unfoldment of the mind of the young child—for on the mental, as well as on the physical plane, the young of the human being rapidly passes through and reproduces the stages of the evolution of its ancestral forms. At a certain stage of the mental evolution or development of the young child there comes a particular period at which the child seems to awaken to a dawning realization that it is an individual, instead of being merely a bunch of feelings and desires. Up to a certain point the young child speaks of itself in the third person, i.e., as "Johnny," "Mary," etc. Then all of a sudden it begins to employ the terms "I" or "Me" in speaking of itself—though it may make grammatical errors in using these pronouns, nevertheless, there is never any doubt left that the child knows just what they stand for: it knows "I am I." Some psychologists call attention to the fact that many children experience a feeling of something akin to terror when they first reach this sense of "I," or individuality. Some writers have testified to having felt a strange sense of Aloneness, and detachment from all other things, when this sense of individuality first burst upon them in early childhood. In some cases the fuller dawn of self-consciousness is accompanied by a newly developed bashfulness, shyness, or that more or less morbid state known by the common name "self conscious." With the faculty of introspection, there often comes the tendency to employ the same too freely, and thus to become morbid on the one hand, or else foolishly egotistical and vain on the other hand.

(11) Similarly any one, unable to see himself, but possessed by that God, has but to bring that divine- within before his consciousness and at once he sees an image of himself, himself lifted to a better beauty: now let him ignore that image, lovely though it is, and sink into a perfect self-identity, no such separation remaining; at once he forms a multiple unity with the God silently present; in the degree of his power and will, the two become one; should he turn back to the former duality, still he is pure and remains very near to the God; he has but to look again and the same presence is there.

This conversion brings gain: at the first stage, that of separation, a man is aware of self; but, retreating inwards, he becomes possessor of all; he puts sense away behind him in dread of the separated life and becomes one in the Divine; if he plans to see in separation, he sets himself outside.

The novice must hold himself constantly under some image of the Divine Being and seek in the light of a clear conception; knowing thus, in a deep conviction, whither he is going- into what a sublimity he penetrates- he must give himself forthwith to the inner and, radiant with the Divine Intellections , be no longer the seer but, as that place has made him, the seen.

Still, we will be told, one cannot be in beauty and yet fail to see it. The very contrary: to see the divine as something external is to be outside of it; to become it is to be most truly in beauty: since sight deals with the external, there can here be no vision unless in the sense of identification with the object.

And this identification amounts to a self-knowing, a self-consciousness, guarded by the fear of losing the self in the desire of a too wide awareness.

It must be remembered that sensations of the ugly and evil impress us more violently than those of what is agreeable and yet leave less knowledge as the residue of the shock: sickness makes the rougher mark, but health, tranquilly present, explains itself better; it takes the first place, it is the natural thing, it belongs to our being; illness is alien, unnatural and thus makes itself felt by its very incongruity, while the other conditions are native and we take no notice. Such being our nature, we are most completely aware of ourselves when we are most completely identified with the object of our knowledge.

This is why in that other sphere, when we are deepest in that knowledge by intellection, we are aware of none; we are expecting some impression on sense, which has nothing to report since it has seen nothing and never could in that order see anything. The unbelieving element is sense; it is the other, the Intellectual-Principle, that sees; and if this too doubted, it could not even credit its own existence, for it can never stand away and with bodily eyes apprehend itself as a visible object.

(2) ... For in any one science the reduction of the total of knowledge into its separate propositions does not shatter its unity, chipping it into unrelated fragments; in each distinct item is talent the entire body of the science, an integral thing in its highest Principle and its last detail: and similarly a man must so discipline himself that the first Principles of his Being are also his completions, are totals, that all be pointed towards the loftiest phase of the Nature: when a man has become this unity in the best, he is in that other realm; for it is by this highest within himself, made his own, that he holds to the Supreme.

At no point did the All-Soul come into Being: it never arrived, for it never knew place; what happens is that body, neighbouring with it, participates in it: hence Plato does not place Soul in body but body in Soul. The others, the secondary Souls, have a point of departure- they come from the All-Soul- and they have a Place into which to descend and in which to change to and fro, a place, therefore, from which to ascend: but this All-Soul is for ever Above, resting in that Being in which it holds its existence as Soul and followed, as next, by the Universe or, at least, by all beneath the sun.

The partial Soul is illuminated by moving towards the Soul above it; for on that path it meets Authentic Existence. Movement towards the lower is towards non-Being: and this is the step it takes when it is set on self; for by willing towards itself it produces its lower, an image of itself- a non-Being- and so is wandering, as it were, into the void, stripping itself of its own determined form. And this image, this undetermined thing, is blank darkness, for it is utterly without reason, untouched by the Intellectual-Principle, far removed from Authentic Being.

As long as it remains at the mid-stage it is in its own peculiar region; but when, by a sort of inferior orientation, it looks downward, it shapes that lower image and flings itself joyfully thither.

(9) In order, then, to know what the Divine Mind is, we must observe soul and especially its most God-like phase.

One certain way to this knowledge is to separate first, the man from the body- yourself, that is, from your body- next to put aside that soul which moulded the body, and, very earnestly, the system of sense with desires and impulses and every such futility, all setting definitely towards the mortal: what is left is the phase of the soul which we have declared to be an image of the Divine Intellect, retaining some light from that sun, while it pours downward upon the sphere of magnitudes the light playing about itself which is generated from its own nature.

Of course we do not pretend that the sun's light remains a self-gathered and sun-centred thing: it is at once outrushing and indwelling; it strikes outward continuously, lap after lap, until it reaches us upon our earth: we must take it that all the light, including that which plays about the sun's orb, has travelled; otherwise we would have a void expanse, that of the space- which is material- next to the sun's orb. The Soul, on the contrary- a light springing from the Divine Mind and shining about it- is in closest touch with that source; it is not in transit but remains centred there, and, in likeness to that principle, it has no place: the light of the sun is actually in the air, but the soul is clean of all such contact so that its immunity is patent to itself and to any other of the same order.

And by its own characteristic act, though not without reasoning process, it knows the nature of the Intellectual-Principle which, on its side, knows itself without need of reasoning, for it is ever self-present whereas we become so by directing our soul towards it; our life is broken and there are many lives, but that principle needs no changings of life or of things; the lives it brings to being are for others not for itself: it cannot need the inferior; nor does it for itself produce the less when it possesses or is the all, nor the images when it possesses or is the prototype.

Anyone not of the strength to lay hold of the first soul, that possessing pure intellection, must grasp that which has to do with our ordinary thinking and thence ascend: if even this prove too hard, let him turn to account the sensitive phase which carries the ideal forms of the less fine degree, that phase which, too, with its powers, is immaterial and lies just within the realm of Ideal-principles.

One may even, if it seem necessary, begin as low as the reproductive soul and its very production and thence make the ascent, mounting from those ultimate ideal principles to the ultimates in the higher sense, that is to the primals.

(19) The World Soul, at the Dawn of the Cosmic Day, may be said to be like a dreamer freshly awakened from a deep sleep, and striving to regain consciousness of himself. It does not know what it is, nor does it know that it is but an Idea of the Eternal Parent. If it could express its thought in words it would say that it has always been, but had been asleep before that moment. It feels within itself the urge toward expression and manifestation, along unconscious and instinctive lines—this urge being a part of its nature and character and implanted into it by the content of the Idea of the Eternal Parent which brought it into being. Like the newborn babe, it struggles for breath and begins to move its limbs. And as it struggles and moves, there comes to it a response from all of its nature, and its active life begins. And here we leave the World Soul, for the moment, struggling for breath and striving to move its limbs (figuratively speaking, of course). Its future is related in the succeeding Aphorisms.

(25) "These experiences, when they have come to one, have left him in a new state of mind, and he has never been the same man afterward. Although the keenness of the recollection has worn off, there remains a certain memory which long afterward proves a source of comfort and strength to him, especially when he feels faint of faith and is shaken like a reed by the winds of conflicting opinions and speculations. The memory of such an experience is a source of renewed strength—a haven of refuge to which the weary soul flies for shelter from the outside world which understands it not. From the writings of the ancient philosophers of all races, from the songs of the great poets of all peoples, from the preachings of the prophets of all religions and times we can gather traces of this illumination which has come to them—this unfoldment of spiritual consciousness. One tells the story in one way, the other in other terms, but all tell practically the same essential story. All who have recognized this illumination, even in a faint degree, recognize the like experience in the tale, song, or preaching of another, though centuries may roll between them. It is the song of the Soul, which when once heard is never forgotten. Though it be sounded by the crude instruments of the semi-barbarous races, or the finished instruments of the talented musician of today, its strains are plainly recognized. From Old Egypt comes the song—from India of all ages—from Ancient Greece and Rome—from the early Christian saint—from the Quaker Friend—from the Catholic monasteries —from the Mohammedan Mosque—from the Chinese Philosopher—from the legends of the American Indian hero-prophet—it is always the same strain, and it is swelling louder and louder, as many more are taking it up and adding their voices or the sounds of their instruments to the grand chorus." The student must remember that in the experiences noted above, the individual simply has flashes, or period of dawning consciousness on this Sixth Plane of Consciousness, and is not to be regarded as having entered fully and completely into its manifestations, much less as having evolved into a state in which he functions normally and habitually on this high plane. There are beings—once men—who have evolved into the higher state in which they function normally and habitually on this plane of conscious being; but these individuals are no more than mere men, and have earned the right to be called "Demi-Gods." But, even as they once were men, so all men become as they now are by the unfoldment of this higher region of Self. These flashes of consciousness from this high plane are prophetic signs and messages indicating the awakening of the higher faculties, and giving assurance of further growth and unfoldment.

(26) In concluding our consideration of this high plane, let us glance at the following words from the pen of Sir Oliver Lodge, the great English scientist, who has given the world startling corroboration of some important ancient truths known to the occultists and esoteric teachers; he says: "Let us imagine, then, as a working hypothesis, that our subliminal self—the other and greater part of us—is in touch with another order of existence, and that it is occasionally able to communicate, or somehow, perhaps unconsciously, transmit to the fragment in the body something of the information accessible to it. We should then be like icebergs floating in an ocean, with only a fraction exposed to the sun and air and observation; the rest, by far the greater bulk, eleven-twelfths—submerged in a connecting medium, submerged and occasionally in subliminal or sub-aqueous contact with others, while still the peaks, the visible bergs, are far separate. Such an iceberg, glorying in its crisp solidity and sparkling pinnacles, might resent attention paid to its submerged subliminal supporting region, or to the saline liquid out of which it arose, and to which in due course it will some day return. 'We feel that we are greater than we know.' Or, reversing the metaphor, we might liken our present state to that of the hulls of ships submerged in a dim ocean among strange beasts, propelled in a blind manner through space; proud, perhaps, of accumulating many barnacles of decoration: only recognizing our destination by bumping against the dock wall; and with no cognizance of the deck, and the cabins, and spars, and sails, no thought of the sextant and the compass and the captain, no perception of the lookout on the mast, of the distant horizon, no vision of objects far ahead, dangers to be avoided, destinations to be reached, other ships to be spoken with by means other than by bodily contact—a region of sunshine and cloud, of space, of perception, and of intelligence, utterly inaccessible to those parts below the water line." VII. The Soul of the Gods It must be apparent to every careful student that it is practically impossible to speak in ordinary terms of the expression and manifestation of the Self which is known to the Rosicrucians as "The Soul of the Gods." It is sufficient for the purpose to merely indicate its existence as a phase of the Ego—existing in a latent state in most individuals, but affording occasional flashes of its presence to a few, and destined to become the normal plane of conscious functioning to the whole race in the course of spiritual evolution. Moreover, on certain planes of life and being, even today, there exist beings to whom this phase of consciousness is habitual and normal, even as is the plane of human consciousness normal and habitual to the majority of our race today.

(25) * * * * * * * * * * "When I try to tell the best I find, I cannot; My tongue is ineffectual on its pivots, My breath will not be obedient to its organs, I become a dumb man." Tennyson, according to his friends had glimpses and flashes of Cosmic Consciousness, and in many of his poems he has given expression to the thoughts and feelings which had come to him at that time. The following is a good illustration of the latter: "For knowledge is the swallow on the lake That sees and stirs the surface-shadow there, But never yet hath dippt into the abysm, The Abysm of all Abysms, beneath, within The blue of sky and sea, the green of earth, And in a million-millionth of a grain Which cleft and cleft again for evermore And ever vanishing, never vanishes * * * And more, my son, for more than once when I Sat all alone, revolving in myself That word which is the symbol of myself, The mortal symbol of Self was loosed, And passed into the Nameless, as a cloud Melts into Heaven. I touched my limbs, the limbs Were strange, not mine—and yet no shadow of doubt, But utter clearness, and through loss of Self The gain of such large life as matched with ours Were Sun to spark, unshadowable in words, Themselves but shadows of a shadow-world." Dr. Richard Maurice Bucke, of Toronto, Canada, a number of years ago published a book entitled "Cosmic Consciousness," in which he grouped together a number of very interesting experiences along these lines which had been related by those experiencing them; Dr. Bucke himself, as well as his friend Walt Whitman, and several other close friends, had experienced flashes of this same stage of consciousness. He deduces the following general idea from the consideration of these experiences: "Superimposed upon self-consciousness as is that faculty upon simple-consciousness, a third and higher form of consciousness is at present making its appearance in our race. This higher form of consciousness, when it appears, occurs as it must, at the full maturity of the individual, at about the age of thirty-five, but almost always between the ages of thirty and forty. There have been occasional cases of it for the last two thousand years, and it is becoming more and more common. In fact, in all appearances, as far as observed, it obeys the laws to which every nascent faculty is subject. Many more or less perfect examples of this new faculty exist in the world today, and it has been my privilege to know personally and to have had the opportunity of studying, several men and women who have possessed it. In the course of a few more millenniums there should be born from the present human race, a higher type of man, possessing this higher type of consciousness. This new race, as it may well be called, would occupy toward us a position such as that occupied by us toward the simple conscious 'alulus homo.' The advent of this higher, better and happier race would simply justify the long agony of its birth through countless ages of our past. And it is the first article of my belief, some of the grounds for which I have endeavored to lay before you, that a new race is in course of evolution." In another part of his book, Dr. Bucke gives the following general characteristics of the special type of experiences recorded by him in the book: "I have, in the last three years, collected twenty-three cases of this so-called cosmic consciousness. In each case the onset or incoming of the new faculty is always sudden, instantaneous. Among the unusual feelings the mind experiences is a sudden sense of being immersed in flame or in a brilliant light. This occurs entirely without worrying or outward cause, and may occur at noonday or in the middle of the night, and the person at first may feel that he is becoming insane. Along with these feelings comes a sense of immortality; not merely a feeling of certainty that there is a future life—that would be a small matter—but a pronounced consciousness that the life now being lived is eternal, death being seen as a trivial incident which does not affect its continuity. Further, there is an annihilation of the sense of sin, and an intellectual competency, not simply surpassing the old plane, but on an entirely new and higher plane. * * * The cosmic conscious race will not be the race that exists today, and more than the present is the same race that existed prior to the evolution of self-consciousness. A new race is being born from us, and this new race will in the near future possess the earth." Emerson is his wonderful essay on "The Over-Soul" clearly indicates his knowledge of the experiences mentioned herein in connection with what has been called "Cosmic Consciousness." The following quotations therefrom will serve to disclose his general thought on the subject: "Always, I believe, by the necessity of our constitution, a certain enthusiasm attends the individual's consciousness of that divine presence. The character and duration of this enthusiasm varies with the state of the individual, from an ecstasy and trance and prophetic inspiration—which is its rarer appearance—to the faintest glow of virtuous emotion, in which form it warms, like our household fires, all the families and associations of men, and makes society possible. A certain tendency to insanity has always attended the opening of the religious sense in men, as if 'blasted with excess of light.' The trances of Socrates; the 'Union' of Plotinus; the vision of Porphyry; the conversion of Paul; the aurora of Behmen; the convulsions of George Fox and his Quakers; the illumination of Swedenborg are of this kind. What was in the case of these remarkable persons a ravishment has in innumerable instances in common life been exhibited in a less striking manner. Everywhere the history of religion betrays a tendency to enthusiasm. The rapture of the Moravian and Quietist; the opening of the internal sense of the Word, in the language of the New Jerusalem Church; the revival of the Calvinistic Churches; the experiences of the Methodists, are varying forms of that shudder of awe and delight with which the individual soul always mingles with the universal soul. The nature of these revelations is always the same; they are perceptions of the absolute law. They are solutions of the soul's own questions. The soul answers never by words, but by the thing itself that is inquired after. * * * We live in succession, in division, in parts, in particles. Meantime within man is the soul of the whole; the wise silence; the universal beauty to which every part and particle is equally related; the eternal One. And this deep power in which we exist, and whose beatitude is all accessible to us, is not only self-sufficing and perfect in every hour, but the act of seeing, and the thing seen, the seer and the spectacle, the subject and the object, are One. We see the world piece by piece, as the sun and moon, the animal, the tree; but the whole, of which these are the shining parts, is the soul. It is only by the vision of that Wisdom that the horoscope of the ages can be read, and it is only by falling back on our better thoughts, by yielding to the spirit of prophesy which is innate in every man that we can know what it saith. Every man's words, who speaks from that life, must sound vain to those who do not dwell in the same thought on their own part. I dare not speak for it. My words do not carry its august sense; they fall short and cold. Only itself can inspire whom it will, and behold, their speech shall be lyrical and sweet, and universal as the rising of the wind. Yet I desire, even by profane words, if sacred I may not use, to indicate the heaven of this deity, and to report what hints I have collected of the transcendent simplicity and energy of the Highest Law." So such are the general reports of the nature and character of these glimpses of this Universal Consciousness which men here and there have experienced in all times. Let us now consider the powers kindled in those to whom glimpses (or more) of this consciousness has come. For an increase in "knowing" always brings with it an increase in power, according to the law of cause and effect.

(26) In the first place, the possession by an individual of even a faint dawn of this Universal Consciousness, by whatever name it may be known, endows him with a certain "in touchness" with all the rest of Life. By a subtle intuition he may, under favorable circumstances, speak, write, paint, act, or produce music representing phase of vital, mental, and emotional activity transcending any actual experience on his own part. Such an individual becomes "en rapport" with, or "in tune" with, the manifold variety of living forms, and is able to produce a representation thereof through his own expression. This is the secret of the "genius" of great artists, writers, musicians, poets, and others who express through their own respective mediums or vehicles the messages they receive from the other forms of life with which they are connected by subtle filaments of unity. Such a one can "enter into" (in imagination) the life experiences of any and all forms of life, and to then represent them in visible or audible form in a degree depending upon their own development.

(51) Passing on to the Plane of Mind, we find that many of the discoveries of modern psychology tend to verify the Rosicrucian theory also. Modern psychologists are devoting much time and space to their presentations of the various theories and discussions of that "other mind" which they variously call the "subjective mind," the "subconscious mind," the "subliminal mind," etc., etc. In all of their theories, however, one point stands out prominently, i.e., the point that this "other mind" is subject to stimulating influences from the "conscious" or "objective" mind, and after being so subjected to the influence of stimulus of the latter the "other mind" becomes fertile and produces a wealth of ideas, thoughts, and actions. But so far none of the psychologists have even attempted to explain the nature of the influence or stimulus of the one mind upon the other. And here is where the Rosicrucian teachings are much needed, for the Rosicrucian recognizes and realizes at once the fact that the "other mind" is feminine, and the stimulating mind is masculine, and that the process is clearly one of fertilization followed by mental conception and generation.

(4) But we, too, are king when we are moulded to the Intellectual-Principle.

That correspondence may be brought about in two ways: either the radii from that centre are traced upon us to be our law or we are filled full of the Divine Mind, which again may have become to us a thing seen and felt as a presence.

Hence our self-knowing comes to the knowing of all the rest of our being in virtue of this thing patently present; or by that power itself communicating to us its own power of self-knowing; or by our becoming identical with that principle of knowledge.

Thus the self-knower is a double person: there is the one that takes cognisance of the principle in virtue of which understanding occurs in the soul or mind; and there is the higher, knowing himself by the Intellectual-Principle with which he becomes identical: this latter knows the self as no longer man but as a being that has become something other through and through: he has thrown himself as one thing over into the superior order, taking with him only that better part of the soul which alone is winged for the Intellectual Act and gives the man, once established There, the power to appropriate what he has seen.

We can scarcely suppose this understanding faculty to be unaware that it has understanding; that it takes cognisance of things external; that in its judgements it decides by the rules and standards within itself held directly from the Intellectual-Principle; that there is something higher than itself, something which, moreover, it has no need to seek but fully possesses. What can we conceive to escape the self-knowledge of a principle which admittedly knows the place it holds and the work it has to do? It affirms that it springs from Intellectual-Principle whose second and image it is, that it holds all within itself, the universe of things, engraved, so to say, upon it as all is held There by the eternal engraver. Aware so far of itself, can it be supposed to halt at that? Are we to suppose that all we can do is to apply a distinct power of our nature and come thus to awareness of that Intellectual-Principle as aware of itself? Or may we not appropriate that principle- which belongs to us as we to it- and thus attain to awareness, at once, of it and of ourselves? Yes: this is the necessary way if we are to experience the self-knowledge vested in the Intellectual-Principle. And a man becomes Intellectual-Principle when, ignoring all other phases of his being, he sees through that only and sees only that and so knows himself by means of the self- in other words attains the self-knowledge which the Intellectual-Principle possesses.

(2) Enough on that point: we come now to the question of memory of the personality?

There will not even be memory of the personality; no thought that the contemplator is the self- Socrates, for example- or that it is Intellect or Soul. In this connection it should be borne in mind that, in contemplative vision, especially when it is vivid, we are not at the time aware of our own personality; we are in possession of ourselves but the activity is towards the object of vision with which the thinker becomes identified; he has made himself over as matter to be shaped; he takes ideal form under the action of the vision while remaining, potentially, himself. This means that he is actively himself when he has intellection of nothing.

Or, if he is himself , he is empty of all: if, on the contrary, he is himself in such a way as to be identified with what is all, then by the act of self-intellection he has the simultaneous intellection of all: in such a case self-intuition by personal activity brings the intellection, not merely of the self, but also of the total therein embraced; and similarly the intuition of the total of things brings that of the personal self as included among all.

But such a process would appear to introduce into the Intellectual that element of change against which we ourselves have only now been protesting?

The answer is that, while unchangeable identity is essential to the Intellectual-Principle, the soul, lying so to speak on the borders of the Intellectual Realm, is amenable to change; it has, for example, its inward advance, and obviously anything that attains position near to something motionless does so by a change directed towards that unchanging goal and is not itself motionless in the same degree. Nor is it really change to turn from the self to the constituents of self or from those constituents to the self; and in this case the contemplator is the total; the duality has become unity.

None the less the soul, even in the Intellectual Realm, is under the dispensation of a variety confronting it and a content of its own?

No: once pure in the Intellectual, it too possesses that same unchangeableness: for it possesses identity of essence; when it is in that region it must of necessity enter into oneness with the Intellectual-Principle by the sheer fact of its self-orientation, for by that intention all interval disappears; the soul advances and is taken into unison, and in that association becomes one with the Intellectual-Principle- but not to its own destruction: the two are one, and two. In such a state there is no question of stage and change: the soul, without motion would be intent upon its intellectual act, and in possession, simultaneously, of its self-awareness; for it has become one simultaneous existence with the Supreme.

(53) The "other mind" of the human individual may be regarded as a mental womb-in fact the ancients so styled it—in which is generated a wealth of mental offspring. It is a mine of latent possibilities of generation—the generation of mental progeny of all sorts and kinds. Its powers of mental generative energy are enormous. But it does not generate except under the stimulus of the "conscious mind" of its owner, or some other individual. The phenomena of Suggestion and Hypnotism are explainable under the Rosicrucian Theory of Mental Sex. A writer on this subject has said: "Suggestion and Hypnotism operate in the same way, viz., by the Masculine Principle projecting its vibrations toward the Feminine Principle in the mind of the other person, the latter taking the seed-thought and allowing it to develop into maturity when it is born on the plane of consciousness. The Masculine Principle in the mind of the person giving the suggestion directs a vibratory current toward the Feminine Principle in the mind of the person who is the object of the suggestions, and the latter accepts it according to natural laws, unless the will interposes an objection. The seed-thought thus lodged in the mind of the other person grows and develops and in time is regarded as the rightful mental offspring of the person, whereas it is really like the cuckoo's egg placed in the nest of the sparrow; and like the offspring of the cuckoo, it destroys the rightful offspring of the owner of the nest. The proper method is for the Masculine and Feminine Principles in the mind of a person to co-ordinate and to act harmoniously in conjunction with each other. But unfortunately the Masculine Principle in the mind of the average person is too lazy to act—the activities of the Will too slight—the consequence being that such persons are ruled almost entirely by the minds and wills of other persons, whom they allow to do their thinking and willing for them. The majority of persons are but mere shadows and echoes of other persons having stronger wills and minds than themselves. The strong men and women of the world invariably manifest the Masculine Principle of Will, and their strength depends materially upon this fact. Instead of living by the impressions made upon their minds by others, they dominate their own minds by means of their own will, obtaining the kind of thoughts desired; and moreover they dominate the minds of others, likewise, in the same manner. Look at the strong people, see how they manage to implant their seed-thoughts in the minds of the masses of the people, thus causing the latter to think thoughts in accordance with the desires and wills of the strong individuals. This is why the masses of the people are such sheeplike creatures, never originating an idea of their own, nor using their own powers of mental activity. The manifestation of Mental Sex may be noticed all around us in our daily life. The magnetic persons are those who are able to use the Masculine Mental Principle in the direction of impressing their ideas upon others. The actor who makes people weep or cry as he wills is employing this principle, more or less unconsciously. So is the successful orator, statesman, preacher, writer, or other person who is before the public. The peculiar influence exerted by Mme persons over others is explainable in this way— the operation of Mental Sex activity in the form of vibratory mental currents. Here we may find the secret of personal magnetism, personal influence, fascination, etc." The Principle of Sex manifests and operates also on the Spiritual Plane of being, according to its characteristic principles, and its results are spiritual generation and regeneration. We regret that we are not permitted to go deeply into this phase of the subject in this book, but a detailed consideration of the operation of Sex on this high plane would be contrary to the interests of the best in occultism, and would invite a misuse of power on the part of unprincipled persons who fail to understand the evil consequences to themselves coming as a reaction following actions of this kind. The true student, however, by using his power of reasoning by analogy, doubtless will be able to work out some of the problems concerned with the phase of the question thus mentioned. Such will find the secret in the old axiom: "As above, so below; as below, so above." The further the student penetrates in his investigations along the lines of the physical, the mental, and the spiritual, the more will he become convinced of the truth of the ancient occult axiom that "Sex is omnipresent and all-pervasive in the universe. All creation is generation, and all generation proceeds from Sex." Finis

(24) A writer has well said of this stage of consciousness: "As man unfolds spiritually, he feels his relationship with all mankind, and he begins to love his fellow-man more and more. It hurts him to see others suffering, and when it hurts him enough he tries to do something to remedy it. As time goes on and man develops, the terrible suffering which many human beings undergo today will be impossible, for the reason that the unfolding spiritual consciousness of the race will make the pain be felt so severely by all that the race will not be able to stand it any longer, and it will rebel and insist that matters be remedied. From the inner recesses of the soul comes a protest against the following of the lower animal nature, and, although we may put it aside for a time, it will become more and more persistent, until finally we will be forced to heed it. The struggle between the higher and lower natures has been noticed by all careful observers of the human soul, and many theories have been advanced to account for it. In former times it was taught that man was being tempted by the devil on the one hand, and helped by a guardian angel on the other hand. But, as all occultists know, the struggle is between the two elements of man's nature, not exactly warring, but each following its own line of effort, and the Ego is torn and bruised in its efforts to adjust itself. The Ego is in a transition stage of consciousness, and the struggle is quite painful at times, but the growing soul in time rises above the attraction of the lower nature, and its dawning spiritual consciousness enables to understand his real nature and his real place in the universe." The same writer has said: "The higher planes of the soul are also the source of the 'inspiration' which certain poets, painters, sculptors, writers, preachers, orators, and others have received in all times and in all lands. This is the source from which the seer obtains his vision—the prophet his insight and foresight. Many have concentrated themselves upon high ideals in their work, and have received rare knowledge from this source, attributing it to beings of another world—but the inspiration came from within: it was the voice of the Higher Self speaking to the Ego." The writer aforesaid, informs us as follows concerning the experiences of Inspiration and Illumination coming to the Ego from the regions of this Higher Self: "These experiences, of course, vary materially according to the degree of unfoldment of the individual, his previous training, his temperament, etc., but there are certain characteristics common to all. The common features are as follows: (1) A conviction of a sense of actual being—of immortality; this apart from faith or religious conviction, and coming seemingly from a deeper source than these—it has been described as 'the faith that knows .' (2) A total slipping away of all fear and the acquirement of a feeling of trust, certainty, and confidence, which is beyond the comprehension of those who have never experienced it. (3) A feeling of universal Love which sweeps over one—a Love which includes all Life, from those near to one in the flesh to those at the furthest parts of the universe; from those whom we hold as pure and holy, to those whom we have regarded as vile, wicked, and utterly unworthy. All feelings of self-righteousness and condemnation seem to slip away, and one's love, like the light of the sun, falls upon all alike, irrespective of their degree of development or 'goodness.' (4) A feeling of the utmost bliss and joy, the memory of which abides long after the actual experience. (5) A feeling of exalted knowledge and wisdom, in which all doubt disappears and a sense of understanding the deeper meaning of all things takes its place, for the time of the experience at least. To some these experiences have come as a deep reverent mood or feeling, which took possession of them for a time, while others have seemed to be in a dream and have become conscious of a spiritual uplifting accompanied by a sensation of being surrounded by a brilliant and all-pervading light or glow. To some, certain truths have become manifest in the form of symbols, the full meaning of which in some cases have not become apparent until long after the actual experience.

(31) The lesson to the student is that in every man there lie concealed the potentiality of Godhood, and stages less than Godhood though above that of ordinary Manhood; and that in every man also abide the lower phases of manifested existence, even the very lowest of all. The wise man uses the lower, but does not allow the lower to use him; he maintains a positive, masterful mental attitude toward the lower planes of being, while opening himself receptively to the influences of the higher planes of his Self.

(10) Perhaps the reason this continuous activity remains unperceived is that it has no touch whatever with things of sense. No doubt action upon material things, or action dictated by them, must proceed through the sensitive faculty which exists for that use: but why should there not be an immediate activity of the Intellectual-Principle and of the soul that attends it, the soul that antedates sensation or any perception? For, if Intellection and Authentic-Existence are identical, this "Earlier-than-perception" must be a thing having Act.

Let us explain the conditions under which we become conscious of this Intellective-Act.

When the Intellect is in upward orientation that which contains the life of the Soul, is, so to speak, flung down again and becomes like the reflection resting on the smooth and shining surface of a mirror; in this illustration, when the mirror is in place the image appears but, though the mirror be absent or out of gear, all that would have acted and produced an image still exists; so in the case of the Soul; when there is peace in that within us which is capable of reflecting the images of the Rational and Intellectual-Principles these images appear. Then, side by side with the primal knowledge of the activity of the Rational and the Intellectual-Principles, we have also as it were a sense-perception of their operation.

When, on the contrary, the mirror within is shattered through some disturbance of the harmony of the body, Reason and the Intellectual-Principle act unpictured: Intellection is unattended by imagination.

In sum we may safely gather that while the Intellective-Act may be attended by the Imaging Principle, it is not to be confounded with it.

And even in our conscious life we can point to many noble activities, of mind and of hand alike, which at the time in no way compel our consciousness. A reader will often be quite unconscious when he is most intent: in a feat of courage there can be no sense either of the brave action or of the fact that all that is done conforms to the rules of courage. And so in cases beyond number.

So that it would even seem that consciousness tends to blunt the activities upon which it is exercised, and that in the degree in which these pass unobserved they are purer and have more effect, more vitality, and that, consequently, the Sage arrived at this state has the truer fulness of life, life not spilled out in sensation but gathered closely within itself.