In search of the miraculous

"It has been said before that self-study and self-observation, if rightly conducted, bring man to the realization of the fact that something is wrong with his machine and with his functions in their ordinary state. A man realizes that it is precisely because he is asleep that he lives and works in a small part of himself. It is precisely for this reason that the vast majority of his possibilities remain unrealized, the vast majority of his powers are left unused. A man feels that he does not get out of life all that it can give him, that he fails to do so owing to definite functional defects in his machine, in his receiving apparatus. The idea of self-study acquires in his eyes a new meaning. He feels that possibly it may not even be worth while studying himself as he is now. He sees every function as it is now and as it could be or ought to be. Self-observation brings man to the realization of the necessity for self-change. And in observing him­self a man notices that self-observation itself brings about certain changes in his inner processes. He begins to understand that self-observation is an instrument of self- change, a means of awakening. By observing himself he throws, as it were, a ray of light onto his inner processes which have hitherto worked in complete darkness. And under the influence of this light the processes themselves begin to change. There are a great many chemical processes that can take place only in the absence of light. Exactly in the same way many psychic processes can take place only in the dark. Even a feeble light of consciousness is enough to change completely the character of a process, while it makes many of them altogether impossible. Our inner psychic processes (our inner alchemy) have much in common with those chemical processes in which light changes the character of the process and they are subject to analogous laws.

"When a man comes to realize the necessity not only for self-study and self- observation but also for work on himself with the object of changing himself, the character of his self-observation must change. He has so far studied the details of the work of the centers, trying only to register this or that phenomenon, to be an impartial witness. He has studied the work of the machine. Now he must begin to see himself, that is to say, to see, not separate details, not the work of small wheels and levers, but to see everything taken together as a whole—the whole of himself such as others see him.

"For this purpose a man must learn to take, so to speak, 'mental photographs' of himself at different moments of his life and in different emotional states: and not photographs of details, but photographs of the whole as he saw it. In other words these photographs must contain simultaneously everything that a man can see in himself at a given moment. Emotions, moods, thoughts, sensations, postures, movements, tones of voice, facial expressions, and so on. If a man succeeds in seizing interesting moments for these photographs he will very soon collect a whole album of pictures of himself which, taken together, will show him quite clearly what he is. But it is not so easy to learn how to take these photographs at the most interesting and characteristic moments, how to catch characteristic postures, characteristic facial expressions, characteristic emotions, and characteristic thoughts. If the photographs are taken successfully and if there is a sufficient number of them, a man will see that his usual conception of himself, with which he has lived from year to year, is very far from reality.

"Instead of the man he had supposed himself to be he will see quite another man. This 'other' man is himself and at the same time not himself. It is he as other people know him, as he imagines himself and as he appears in his actions, words, and so on; but not altogether such as he actually is. For a man himself knows that there is a great deal that is

unreal, invented, and artificial in this other man whom other people know and whom he knows himself. You must learn to divide the real from the invented. And to begin self-observation and self-study it is necessary to divide oneself. A man must realize that he indeed consists of two men.

"One is the man he calls 'I' and whom others call 'Ouspensky,' 'Zakharov' or 'Petrov.' The other is the real he, the real I, which appears in his life only for very short moments and which can become firm and permanent only after a very lengthy period of work.

"So long as a man takes himself as one person he will never move from where he is. His work on himself starts from the moment when he begins to feel two men in himself. One is passive and the most it can do is to register or observe what is happening to it. The other, which calls itself 'I,' is active, and speaks of itself in the first person, is in reality only 'Ouspensky,' 'Petrov' or 'Zakharov.'

"This is the first realization that a man can have. Having begun to think correctly he very soon sees that he is completely in the power of his 'Ouspensky,' 'Petrov,' or 'Zakharov.' No matter what he plans or what he intends to do or say, it is not 'he,' not 'I,' that will carry it out, do or say it, but his 'Ouspensky' 'Petrov,' or 'Zakharov,' and of course they will do or say it, not in the way 'I' would have done or said it, but in their own way with their own shade of meaning, and often this shade of meaning completely changes what 'I' wanted to do.

"From this point of view there is a very definite danger arising from the very first moment of self-observation. It is 'I' who begins self-observation, but it is immediately taken up and continued by 'Ouspensky,' 'Zakharov,' or 'Petrov.' But 'Ouspensky' 'Zakharov,' or 'Petrov' from the very first steps introduces a slight alteration into this self-observation, an alteration which seems to be quite unimportant but which in reality fundamentally alters the whole thing.

"Let us suppose, for example, that a man called Ivanov hears the description of this method of self-observation. He is told that a man must divide himself, 'he' or 'I' on one side and 'Ouspensky,' 'Tetrov,' or 'Zakharov' on the other side. And he divides himself literally as he hears it. 'This is I,' he says, 'and that is "Ouspensky," "Petrov," or "Zakharov."' He will never say 'Ivanov.' He finds that unpleasant, so he will inevitably use somebody else's surname or Christian name. Moreover he calls 'I' what he likes in himself or at any rate what he considers to be strong, while he calls 'Ouspensky,' 'Petrov,' or 'Zakharov' what he does not like or what he considers to be weak. On this basis he begins to reason in many ways about himself, quite wrongly of course from the very beginning, since he has already deceived himself in the most important point and has taken not his real self, that is, he has taken, not Ivanov, but the imaginary 'Ouspensky,' 'Petrov' or 'Zakharov.'

"It is difficult even to imagine how often a man dislikes to use his own name in speaking of himself in the third person. He tries to avoid it in every possible way. He calls himself by another name, as in the instance just mentioned; he devises an artificial name for himself, a name by which nobody ever has or ever will call him, or he calls himself simply 'he,' and so on. In this connection people who are accustomed in their mental conversations to call themselves by their Christian name, or surname or by pet names are no exception. When it comes to self-observation they prefer to call themselves 'Ouspensky' or to say 'Ouspensky in me,' as though there could be an 'Ouspensky' in them. There is quite enough of 'Ouspensky' for Ouspensky himself.

"But when a man understands his helplessness in the face of 'Ouspensky' his attitude towards himself and towards 'Ouspensky' in him ceases to be either indifferent or unconcerned.

"Self-observation becomes observation of 'Ouspensky' A man understands that he is not 'Ouspensky,' that 'Ouspensky' is nothing but the mask he wears, the part that he unconsciously plays and which unfortunately he cannot stop playing, a part which rules him and makes him do and say thousands of stupid things, thousands of things which he would never do or say himself.

"If he is sincere with himself he feels that he is in the power of 'Ouspensky' and at the same time he feels that he is not 'Ouspensky.'

"He begins to be afraid of 'Ouspensky,' begins to feel that he is his 'enemy.' No matter what he would like to do, everything is intercepted and altered by 'Ouspensky.' 'Ouspensky' is his 'enemy.' 'Ouspensky's' desires, tastes, sympathies, antipathies, thoughts, opinions, are either opposed to his own views, feelings, and moods, or they have nothing in common with them. And, at the same time, 'Ouspensky' is his master. He is the slave. He has no will of his own. He has no means of expressing his desires because whatever he would like to do or say would be done for him by 'Ouspensky.'

"On this level of self-observation a man must understand that his whole aim is to free himself from 'Ouspensky.' And since he cannot in fact free himself from 'Ouspensky,' because he is himself, he must therefore master 'Ouspensky' and make him do, not what the 'Ouspensky' of the given moment wants, but what he himself wants to do. From being the master, 'Ouspensky' must become the servant.

"The first stage of work on oneself consists in separating oneself from 'Ouspensky' mentally, in being separated from him in actual fact, in keeping apart from him. But the fact must be borne in mind that the whole attention must be concentrated upon 'Ouspensky' for a man is unable to explain what he himself really is. But he can explain 'Ouspensky' to himself and with this he must begin, remembering at the same time that he is not 'Ouspensky,'

"The most dangerous thing in this case is to rely on one's own judg-

ment. If a roan is lucky he may at this time have someone near him who can tell him where he is and where 'Ouspensky' is. But he must moreover trust this person, because he will undoubtedly think that he understands everything himself and that he knows where he is and where 'Ouspensky' is. And not only in relation to himself but in relation also to other people will he think that he knows and sees their 'Ouspenskys.' All this is of course self-deception. At this stage a man can see nothing either in rela­tion to himself or to others. The more convinced he is that he can, the more he is mistaken. But if he can be even to a slight extent sincere with himself and really wants to know the truth, then he can find an exact and infallible basis for judging rightly first about himself and then about other people. But the whole point lies in being sincere with oneself. And this is by no means easy. People do not understand that sincerity must be learned. They imagine that to be sincere or not to be sincere depends upon their desire or decision. But how can a man be sincere with himself when in actual fact he sincerely does not see what he ought to see in himself? Someone has to show it to him. And his attitude towards the person who shows him must be a right one, that is, such as will help him to see what is shown him and not, as often happens, hinder him if he begins to think that he already knows better.

"This is a very serious moment in the work. A man who loses his direction at this moment will never find it again afterwards. It must be remembered that man such as he is does not possess the means of distinguishing 'I' and 'Ouspensky' in himself. Even if he tries to, he will lie to himself and invent things, and he will never see himself as he really is. It must be understood that without outside help a man can never see himself.

"In order to know why this is so you must remember a great deal of what has been said earlier. As was said earlier, self-observation brings a man to the realization of the fact that he does not remember himself. Man's inability to remember himself is one of the chief and most characteristic features of his being and the cause of everything else in him. The inability to remember oneself finds expression in many ways. A man does 'not remember his decisions, he does not remember the promises lie has made to himself, does not remember what he said or felt a month, a week, a day, or even an hour ago. He begins work of some kind and after a certain lapse of time he does not remember why he began it. It is especially in connection with work on oneself that this happens particularly often. A man can remember a promise given to another person only with the help of artificial associations, associations which have been educated into him, and they, in their turn, are connected with conceptions which are also artificially created of 'honor,' 'honesty,' 'duty,' and so on. But speaking in general one can say truthfully that if a man remembers one thing he forgets ten other things which are much more important for him to remember. And a man particularly easily forgets what relates to himself, those 'mental photographs' of himself which perhaps he has previously taken.

"And this deprives man's views and opinions of any stability and precision. A man does not remember what he has thought or what he has said; and he does not remember how he thought or how he spoke.

"This in its turn is connected with one of the fundamental characteristics of man's attitude towards himself and to all his surroundings. Namely, his constant 'identification' with what at a given moment has attracted his attention, his thoughts or his desires, and his imagination.

" 'Identification' is so common a quality that for purposes of observation it is difficult to separate it from everything else. Man is always in a state of identification, only the object of identification changes.

"A man identifies with a small problem which confronts him and he completely forgets the great aims with which he began his work. He identifies with one thought and forgets other thoughts; he is identified with one feeling, with one mood, and forgets his own wider thoughts, emotions, and moods. In work on themselves people are so much identified with separate aims that they fail to see the wood for the trees. Two or three trees nearest to them represent for them the whole wood.

"'Identifying' is one of our most terrible foes because it penetrates everywhere and deceives a man at the moment when it seems to him that he is struggling with it. It is especially difficult to free oneself from identifying because a man naturally becomes more easily identified with the things that interest him most, to which he gives his time, his work, and his attention. In order to free himself from identifying a man must be constantly on guard and be merciless with himself, that is, he must not be afraid of seeing all the subtle and hidden forms which identifying takes.

"It is necessary to see and to study identifying to its very roots in oneself. The difficulty of struggling with identifying is still further increased by the fact that when people observe it in themselves they consider it a very good trait and call it 'enthusiasm,' 'zeal,' 'passion,' 'spontaneity,' 'inspiration,' and names of that kind, and they consider that only in a state of identifying can a man really produce good work, no matter in what sphere. In reality of course this is illusion. Man cannot do anything sensible when he is in a state of identifying. If people could see what the state of identifying means they would alter their opinion. A man becomes a thing, a piece of flesh; he loses even the small semblance of a human being that he has. In the East where people smoke hashish and other drugs it often happens that a man becomes so identified with his pipe that he begins to consider he is a pipe himself. This is not a joke but a fact. He actually becomes a pipe. This is identifying. And for this, hashish or opium are entirely unnecessary. Look at people in shops, in theaters, in restaurants;

or see how they identify with words when they argue about something or try to prove something, particularly something they do not know themselves. They become greediness, desires, or words; of themselves nothing remains.

"Identifying is the chief obstacle to self-remembering. A man who identifies with anything is unable to remember himself. In order to remember oneself it is necessary first of all not to identify. But in order to learn not to identify man must first of all not be identified with himself, must not call himself 'I' always and on all occasions. He must remember that there are two in him, that there is himself, that is 'I' in him, and there is another with whom he must struggle and whom he must conquer if he wishes at any time to attain anything. So long as a man identifies or can be identified, he is the slave of everything that can happen to him. Freedom is first of all freedom from identification.

"After general forms of identification attention must be given to a particular form of identifying, namely identifying with people, which takes the form of 'considering' them.

"There are several different kinds of 'considering.'

"On the most prevalent occasions a man is identified with what others think about him, how they treat him, what attitude they show towards him. He always thinks that people do not value him enough, are not sufficiently polite and courteous. All this torments him, makes him think and suspect and lose an immense amount of energy on guesswork, on suppositions, develops in him a distrustful and hostile attitude towards people. How somebody looked at him, what somebody thought of him, what somebody said of him—all this acquires for him an immense significance.

"And he 'considers' not only separate persons but society and historically constituted conditions. Everything that displeases such a man seems to him to be unjust, illegal, wrong, and illogical. And the point of departure for his judgment is always that these things can and should be changed. 'Injustice' is one of the words in which very often considering hides itself. When a man has convinced himself that he is indignant with some injustice, then for him to stop considering would mean 'reconciling himself to injustice.'

"There are people who are able to consider not only injustice or the failure of others to value them enough but who are able to consider for example the weather. This seems ridiculous but it is a fact. People are able to consider climate, heat, cold, snow, rain; they can be irritated by the weather, be indignant and angry with it. A man can take everything in such a personal way as though everything in the world had been specially arranged in order to give him pleasure or on the contrary to cause him inconvenience or unpleasantness.

"All this and much else besides is merely a form of identification. Such considering is wholly based upon 'requirements.' A man inwardly 're-quires' that everyone should see what a remarkable man he is and that they should constantly give expression to their respect, esteem, and admiration for him, for his intellect, his beauty, his cleverness, his wit, his presence of mind, his originality, and all his other qualities. Requirements in their turn are based on a completely fantastic notion about themselves such as very often occurs with people of very modest appearance. Various writers, actors, musicians, artists, and politicians, for instance, are almost without exception sick people. And what are they suffering from? First of all from an extraordinary' opinion of themselves, then from requirements, and then from considering, that is, being ready and prepared beforehand to take offense at lack of understanding and lack of appreciation.

"There is still another form of considering which can take a great deal of energy from a man. This form starts with a man beginning to think that he is not considering another person enough, that this other person is offended with him for not considering him sufficiently. And he begins to think himself that perhaps he does not think enough about this other, does not pay him enough attention, does not give way to him enough. All this is simply weakness. People are afraid of one another. But this can lead very far. I have seen many such cases. In this way a man can finally lose his balance, if at any time he had any, and begin to perform entirely senseless actions. He gets angry with himself and feels that it is stupid, and he cannot stop, whereas in such cases the whole point is precisely 'not to consider.'

"It is the same case, only perhaps worse, when a man considers that in his opinion he 'ought' to do something when as a matter of fact he ought not to do so at all. 'Ought' and 'ought not' is also a difficult subject, that is, difficult to understand when a man really 'ought' and when he 'ought not.' This can be approached only from the point of view of 'aim.' When a man has an aim he 'ought' to do only what leads towards his aim and he 'ought not' to do anything that hinders him from going towards his aim.

"As I have already said, people very often think that if they begin to struggle with considering within themselves it will make them 'insincere' and they are afraid of this because they think that in this event they will be losing something, losing a part of themselves. In this case the same thing takes place as in attempts to struggle against the outward expression of unpleasant emotions. The sole difference is that in one case a man struggles with the outward expression of emotions and in the other case with an inner manifestation of perhaps the same emotions.

"This fear of losing sincerity is of course self-deception, one of those formulas of lying upon which human weaknesses are based. Man cannot help identifying and considering inwardly and he cannot help expressing his unpleasant emotions, simply because he is weak. Identifying, consid-

ering, the expressing of unpleasant emotions, are manifestations of his weakness, his impotence, his inability to control himself. But not wishing to acknowledge this weakness to himself, he calls it 'sincerity' or 'honesty' and he tells himself that he does not want to struggle against sincerity, whereas in fact he is unable to struggle against his weaknesses.

"Sincerity and honesty are in reality something quite different. What a man calls 'sincerity' in this case is in reality simply being unwilling to restrain himself. And deep down inside him a man is aware of this. But he lies to himself when he says that he does not want to lose sincerity.

"So far I have spoken of internal considering. It would be possible to bring forward many more examples. But you must do this yourselves, that is, you must seek these examples in your observations of yourselves and of others.

"The opposite of internal considering and what is in part a means of fighting against it is external considering. External considering is based upon an entirely different relationship towards people than internal considering. It is adaptation towards people, to their understanding, to their requirements. By considering externally a man does that which makes life easy for other people and for himself. External considering requires a knowledge of men, an understanding of their tastes, habits, and prejudices. At the same time external considering requires a great power over oneself, a great control over oneself. Very often a man desires sincerely to express or somehow or other show to another man what he really thinks of him or feels about him. And if he is a weak man he will of course give way to this desire and afterwards justify himself and say that he did not want to lie, did not want to pretend, he wanted to be sincere. Then he convinces himself that it was the other man's fault. He really wanted to consider him, even to give way to him, not to quarrel, and so on. But the other man did not at all want to consider him so that nothing could be done with him. It very often happens that a man begins with a blessing and ends with a curse. He begins by deciding not to consider and afterwards blames other people for not considering him. This is an example of how external considering passes into internal considering. But if a man really remembers himself he understands that another man is a machine just as he is himself. And then he will enter into his position, he will put himself in his place, and he will be really able to understand and feel what another man thinks and feels. If he can do this his work becomes easier for him. But if he approaches a man with his own requirements nothing except new internal considering can ever be obtained from it.

"Right external considering is very important in the work. It often happens that people who understand very well the necessity of external considering in life do not understand the necessity of external consider­ing in the work; they decide that just because they are in the work they have the right not to consider. Whereas in reality, in the work, that is, for a man's own successful work, ten times more external considering is necessary than in life, because only external considering on his part shows his valuation of the work and his understanding of the work; and success in the work is always proportional to the valuation and understanding of it. Remember that work cannot begin and cannot proceed on a level lower than that of the obyvatel,¹ that is, on a level lower than ordinary life. This is a very important principle which, for some reason or other, is very easily forgotten. But we will speak about this separately afterwards."

G. began one of the following talks with the fact that we forget about the difficulties of our position.

"You often think in a very naive way," he said. "You already think you can do. To get rid of this conviction is more difficult than anything else for a man. You do not understand all the complexity of your organization and you do not realize that every effort, in addition to the results desired, even if it gives these, gives thousands of unexpected and often undesirable results, and the chief thing that you forget is that you are not beginning from the beginning with a nice clean, new machine. There stand behind you many years of a wrong and stupid life, of indulgence in every kind of weakness, of shutting your eyes to your own errors, of striving to avoid all unpleasant truths, of constant lying to yourselves, of self-justification, of blaming others, and so on, and so on. All this cannot help affecting the machine. The machine is dirty, in places it is rusty, and in some places artificial appliances have been formed, the necessity for which has been created by its own wrong way of working.

"These artificial appliances will now interfere very much with all your good intentions.

"They are called 'buffers.'

" 'Buffer' is a term which requires special explanation. We know what buffers on railway carriages are. They are the contrivances which lessen the shock when carriages or trucks strike one another. If there were no buffers the shock of one carriage against another would be very unpleasant and dangerous. Buffers soften the results of these shocks and render them unnoticeable and imperceptible.

"Exactly the same appliances are to be found within man. They are created, not by nature but by man himself, although involuntarily. The cause of their appearance is the existence in man of many contradictions;

contradictions of opinions, feelings, sympathies, words, and actions. If a man throughout the whole of his life were to feel all the contradictions that are within him he could not live and act as calmly as he lives and ¹ For the definition of obyvatel, see page 369 et seq.

acts now. He would have constant friction, constant unrest. We fail to see how contradictory and hostile the different I's of our personality are to one another. If a man were to feel all these contradictions he would feel what he really is. He would feel that he is mad. It is not pleasant to anyone to feel that he is mad. Moreover, a thought such as this deprives a man of self-confidence, weakens his energy, deprives him of 'self-respect.' Somehow or other he must master this thought or banish it. He must either destroy contradictions or cease to see and to feel them. A man cannot destroy contradictions. But if 'buffers' are created in him he can cease to feel them and he will not feel the impact from the clash of contradictory views, contradictory emotions, contradictory words.

"'Buffers' are created slowly and gradually. Very many 'buffers' are created artificially through 'education.' Others are created under the hypnotic influence of all surrounding life. A man is surrounded by people who live, speak, think, and feel by means of 'buffers.' Imitating them in their opinions, actions, and words, a man involuntarily creates similar 'buffers' in himself. 'Buffers' make a man's life more easy. It is very hard to live without 'buffers.' But they keep man from the possibility of inner development because 'buffers' are made to lessen shocks and it is only shocks that can lead a man out of the state in which he lives, that is, waken him. 'Buffers' lull a man to sleep, give him the agreeable and peaceful sensation that all will be well, that no contradictions exist and that he can sleep in peace. 'Buffers' are appliances by means of -which a man can always be in the right. 'Buffers' help a man not to feel his conscience.

" 'Conscience' is again a term that needs explanation.

"In ordinary life the concept 'conscience' is taken too simply. As if we had a conscience. Actually the concept 'conscience' in the sphere of the emotions is equivalent to the concept 'consciousness' in the sphere of the intellect. And as we have no consciousness we have no conscience.

"Consciousness is a state in which a man knows all at once everything that he in general knows and in which he can see how little he does know and how many contradictions there are in what he knows.

"Conscience is a state in which a man feels all at once everything that he in general feels, or can feel. And as everyone has within him thousands of contradictory feelings which vary from a deeply hidden realization of his own nothingness and fears of all kinds to the most stupid kind of self-conceit, self-confidence, self-satisfaction, and self-praise, to feel all this together would not only be painful but literally unbearable.

"If a man whose entire inner world is composed of contradictions were suddenly to feel all these contradictions simultaneously within himself, if he were to feel all at once that he loves everything he hates and hates everything he loves; that he lies when he tells the truth and that he tells the truth when he lies; and if he could feel the shame and horror of it all, this would be the state which is called 'conscience. A man cannot live in this state; he must either destroy contradictions or destroy conscience. He cannot destroy conscience, but if he cannot destroy it he can put it to sleep, that is, he can separate by impenetrable barriers one feeling of self from another, never see them together, never feel their incompatibility, the absurdity of one existing alongside another.

"But fortunately for man, that is, for his peace and for his sleep, this state of conscience is very rare. From early childhood 'buffers' begin to grow and strengthen in him, taking from him the possibility of seeing his inner contradictions and therefore, for him, there is no danger whatever of a sudden awakening. Awakening is possible only for those who seek it and want it, for those who are ready to struggle with themselves and work on themselves for a very long time and very persistently in order to attain it. For this it is necessary to destroy 'buffers,' that is, to go out to meet all those inner sufferings which are connected with the sensations of contradictions. Moreover the destruction of 'buffers' in itself requires very long work and a man must agree to this work realizing that the result of his work will be every possible discomfort and suffering from the awakening of his conscience.

"But conscience is the fire which alone can fuse all the powders in the glass retort which was mentioned before and create the unity which a man lacks in that state in which he begins to study himself.

"The concept 'conscience' has nothing in common with the concept 'morality.'

"Conscience is a general and a permanent phenomenon. Conscience is the same for all men and conscience is possible only in the absence of 'buffers.' From the point of view of understanding the different categories of man we may say that there exists the conscience of a man in whom there are no contradictions. This conscience is not suffering; on the contrary it is joy of a totally new character which we are unable to understand. But even a momentary awakening of conscience in a man who has thousands of different I's is bound to involve suffering. And if these moments of conscience become longer and if a man does not fear them but on the contrary co­operates with them and tries to keep and prolong them, an element of very subtle joy, a foretaste of the future 'clear consciousness' will gradually enter into these moments.

"There is nothing general in the concept of 'morality.' Morality consists of buffers. There is no general morality. What is moral in China is immoral in Europe and what is moral in Europe is immoral in China. What is moral in Petersburg is immoral in the Caucasus. And what is moral in the Caucasus is immoral in Petersburg. What is moral in one class of society is immoral in another and vice versa. Morality is always and everywhere an artificial phenomenon. It consists of various 'taboos,' that is, restrictions, and various demands, sometimes sensible in their

basis and sometimes having lost all meaning or never even having had any meaning, and having been created on a false basis, on a soil of superstition and false fears.

"Morality consists of 'buffers.' And since 'buffers' are of various kinds, and as the conditions of life in different countries and in different ages or among different classes of society vary considerably, so the morality created by them is also very dissimilar and contradictory. A morality common to all does not exist. It is even impossible to say that there exists any general idea of morality, for instance, in Europe. It is said sometimes that the general morality for Europe is 'Christian morality.' But first of all the idea of 'Christian morality' itself admits of very many different interpretations and many different crimes have been justified by 'Christian morality.' And in the second place modern Europe has very little in common with 'Christian morality,' no matter how we understand this morality.

"In any case, if 'Christian morality' brought Europe to the war which is now going on, then it would be as well to be as far as possible from such morality,"

"Many people say that they do not understand the moral side of your teaching," said one of us. "And others say that your teaching has no morality at all."

"Of course not," said G. "People are very fond of talking about morality. But morality is merely self-suggestion. What is necessary is conscience. We do not teach morality. We teach how to find conscience. People are not pleased when we say this. They say that we have no love. Simply because we do not encourage weakness and hypocrisy but, on the contrary, take off all masks. He who desires the truth will not speak of love or of Christianity because he knows how far he is from these. Christian teaching is for Christians. And Christians are those who live, that is, who do everything, according to Christ's precepts. Can they who talk of love and morality live according to Christ's precepts? Of course they cannot; but there will always be talk of this kind, there will always be people to whom words are more precious than anything else. But this is a true sign! He who speaks like this is an empty man; it is not worth while wasting time on him.

"Morality and conscience are quite different things. One conscience can never contradict another conscience. One morality can always very easily contradict and completely deny another. A man with 'buffers' may be very moral. And 'buffers' can be very different, that is, two very moral men may consider each other very immoral. As a rule it is almost inevitably so. The more 'moral' a man is, the more 'immoral' does he think other moral people.

"The idea of morality is connected with the idea of good and evil conduct. But the idea of good and evil is always different for different people, always subjective in man number one, number two, and number three, and is connected only with a given moment or a given situation. A subjective man can have no general concept of good and evil. For a subjective man evil is everything that is opposed to his desires or interests or to his conception of good.

"One may say that evil does not exist for subjective man at all, that there exist only different conceptions of good. Nobody ever does anything deliberately in the interests of evil, for the sake of evil. Everybody acts in the interests of good, as he understands it. But everybody understands it in a different way. Consequently men drown, slay, and kill one another in the interests of good. The reason is again just the same, men's ignorance and the deep sleep in which they live.

"This is so obvious that it even seems strange that people have never thought of it before. However, the fact remains that they fail to understand this and everyone considers his good as the only good and all the rest as evil. It is naive and useless to hope that men will ever understand this and that they will evolve a general and identical idea of good."

"But do not good and evil exist in themselves apart from man?" asked someone present.

"They do," said G., "only this is very far away from us and it is not worth your while even to try to understand this at present. Simply remember one thing. The only possible permanent idea of good and evil for man is connected with the idea of evolution; not with mechanical evolution, of course, but with the idea of man's development through conscious efforts, the change of his being, the creation of unity in him, and the formation of a permanent I.

"A permanent idea of good and evil can be formed in man only in connection with a permanent aim and a permanent understanding. If a man understands that he is asleep and if he wishes to awake, then everything that helps him to awake will be good and everything that hinders him, everything that prolongs his sleep, will be evil. Exactly in the same way will he understand what is good and evil for other people. What helps them to awake is good, what hinders them is evil. But this is so only for those who want to awake, that is, for those who understand that they are asleep. Those who do not understand that they are asleep and those who can have no wish to awake, cannot have understanding of good and evil. And as the overwhelming majority of people do not realize and will never realize that they are asleep, neither good nor evil can actually exist for them.

"This contradicts generally accepted ideas. People are accustomed to think that good and evil must be the same for everyone, and above all that good and evil exist for everyone. In reality, however, good and evil exist only for a few, for those who have an aim and who pursue that aim. Then what hinders the pursuit of that aim is evil and what helps is good.

"But of course most sleeping people will say that they have an aim and that they are going somewhere. The realization of the fact that he has no aim and that he is not going anywhere is the first sign of the approaching awakening of a man or of awakening becoming really possible for him. Awakening begins when a man realizes that he is going nowhere and does not know where to go.

"As has been explained before, there are many qualities which men attribute to themselves, which in reality can belong only to people of a higher degree of development and of a higher degree of evolution than man number one, number two, and number three. Individuality, a single and permanent I, consciousness, will, the ability to do, a state of inner freedom, all these are qualities which ordinary man does not possess. To the same category belongs the idea of good and evil, the very existence of which is connected with a permanent aim, with a permanent direction and a permanent center of gravity.

"The idea of good and evil is sometimes connected with the idea of truth and falsehood. But just as good and evil do not exist for ordinary man, neither do truth and falsehood exist.

"Permanent truth and permanent falsehood can exist only for a permanent man. If a man himself continually changes, then for him truth and falsehood will also continually change. And if people are all in different states at every given moment, their conceptions of truth must be as varied as their conceptions of good. A man never notices how he begins to regard as true what yesterday he considered as false and vice versa. He does not notice these transitions just as he does not notice the transitions of his own I's one into another.

"In the life of an ordinary man truth and falsehood have no moral value of any kind because a man can never keep to one single truth. His truth changes. If for a certain time it does not change, it is simply because it is kept by 'buffers.' And a man can never tell the truth. Sometimes 'it tells' the truth, sometimes 'it tells' a lie. Consequently his truth and his falsehood have no value; neither of them depends upon him, both of them depend upon accident. And this is equally true when applied to a man's words, to his thoughts, his feelings, and to his conceptions of truth and falsehood.

"In order to understand the interrelation of truth and falsehood in life a man must understand falsehood in himself, the constant incessant lies he tells himself.

"These lies are created by 'buffers' In order to destroy the lies in oneself as well as lies told unconsciously to others, 'buffers' must be destroyed. But then a man cannot live without 'buffers.' 'Buffers' automatically control a man's actions, words, thoughts, and feelings. If 'buffers' were to be destroyed all control would disappear. A man can­not exist without control even though it is only automatic control. Only a man who possesses will, that is, conscious control, can live without 'buffers.' Consequently, if a man begins to destroy 'buffers' within himself he must at the same time develop a will. And as will cannot be created to order in a short space of time a man may be left with 'buffers' demolished and with a will that is not as yet sufficiently strengthened. The only chance he has during this period is to be controlled by another will which has already been strengthened.

"This is why in school work, which includes the destruction of 'buffers,' a man must be ready to obey another man's will so long as his own will is not yet fully developed. Usually this subordination to another man's will is studied before anything else. I use the word 'studied' because a man must understand why such obedience is necessary and he must learn to obey. The latter is not at all easy. A man beginning the work of self-study with the object of attaining control over himself is accustomed to believe in his own decisions. Even the fact that he has seen the necessity for changing himself shows him that his decisions are correct and strengthens his belief in them. But when he begins to work on himself a man must give up his own decisions, 'sacrifice his own decisions,' because otherwise the will of the man who directs his work will not be able to control his actions.

"In schools of the religious way 'obedience' is demanded before anything else, that is, full and unquestioning submission although without understanding. Schools of the fourth way demand understanding before anything else. Results of efforts are always proportional to understanding.

"Renunciation of his own decisions, subordination to the will of another, may present insuperable difficulties to a man if he had failed to realize beforehand that actually he neither sacrifices nor changes anything in his life, that all his life he has been subject to some extraneous will and has never had any decisions of his own. But a man is not conscious of this. He considers that he has the right of free choice. It is hard for him to renounce the illusion that he directs and organizes his life himself. But no work on himself is possible until a man is free from this illusion.

"He must realize that he does not exist; he must realize that he can lose nothing because he has nothing to lose; he must realize his 'nothingness' in the full sense of the term.

"This consciousness of one's nothingness alone can conquer the fear of subordination to the will of another. However strange it may seem, this fear is actually one of the most serious obstacles on a man's path. A man is afraid that he will be made to do things that are opposed to his principles, views, and ideas. Moreover, this fear immediately creates in him. the illusion that he really has principles, views, and convictions which in reality he never has had and never could have. A man who has never in his life thought of morality suddenly begins to fear that he will

be made to do something immoral. A man who has never thought of his health and who has done everything possible to ruin it begins to fear that he will be made to do something which will injure it. A man who has lied to everyone, everywhere, all his life in the most barefaced manner begins suddenly to fear that he will be made to tell lies, and so on without end. I knew a drunkard who was afraid more than anything else that he would be made to drink.

"The fear of being subordinated to another man's will very often proves stronger than anything else. A man does not realize that a subordination to which he consciously agrees is the only way to acquire a will of his own."

Next time G. began again with the question of will.

"The question of will, of one's own will and of another man's will, is much more complicated than it seems at the first glance. A man has not sufficient will to do, that is, to control himself and all his actions, but he has sufficient will to obey another person. And only in this way can he escape from the law of accident. There is no other way.

"I mentioned before about fate and accident in man's life. We will now take the meaning of these words in more detail. Fate also exists but not for everyone. Most people are separated from their fate and live under the law of accident only. Fate is the result of planetary influences which correspond to a man's type. We will speak about types later. In the meantime you must grasp one thing. A man can have the fate which corresponds to his type but he practically never does have it. This arises because fate has relation to only one part of man, namely to his essence.

"It must be understood that man consists of two parts: essence and personality. Essence in man is what is his own. Personality in man is what is 'not his own.' 'Not his own' means what has come from outside, what he has learned, or reflects, all traces of exterior impressions left in the memory and in the sensations, all words and movements that have been learned, all feelings created by imitation—all this is 'not his own,' all this is personality.

"From the point of view of ordinary psychology the division of man into personality and essence is hardly comprehensible. It is more exact to say that such a division does not exist in psychology at all.

"A small child has no personality as yet. He is what he really is. He is essence. His desires, tastes, likes, dislikes, express his being such as it is.

"But as soon as so-called 'education' begins personality begins to grow. Personality is created partly by the intentional influences of other people, that is, by 'education,' and partly by involuntary imitation of them by the child itself. In the creation of personality a great part is also played by 'resistance' to people around him and by attempts to conceal from them something that is 'his own' or 'real.'

"Essence is the truth in man; personality is the false. But in proportion as personality grows, essence manifests itself more and more rarely and more and more feebly and it very often happens that essence stops in its growth at a very early age and grows no further. It happens very often that the essence of a grown-up man, even that of a very intellectual and, in the accepted meaning of the word, highly 'educated' man, stops on the level of a child of five or six. This means that everything we see in this man is in reality 'not his own.' What is his own in man, that is, his essence, is usually only manifested in his instincts and in his simplest emotions. There are cases, however, when a man's essence grows in parallel with his personality. Such cases represent very rare exceptions especially in the circumstances of cultured life. Essence has more chances of development in men who live nearer to nature in difficult conditions of constant struggle and danger.

"But as a rule the personality of such people is very little developed. They have more of what is their own, but very little of what is 'not their own,' that is to say, they lack education and instruction, they lack culture. Culture creates personality and is at the same time the product and the result of personality. We do not realize that the whole of our life, all we call civilization, all we call science, philosophy, art, and politics, is created by people's personality, that is, by what is 'not their own' in them.

"The element that is 'not his own' differs from what is man's 'own' by the fact that it can be lost, altered, or taken away by artificial means.

"There exists a possibility of experimental verification of the relation of personality to essence. In Eastern schools ways and means are known by the help of which it is possible to separate man's personality from his essence. For this purpose they sometimes use hypnosis, sometimes special narcotics, sometimes certain kinds of exercises. If personality and essence are for a time separated in a man by one or another of these means, two beings, as it were, are formed in him, who speak in different voices, have completely different tastes, aims, and interests, and one of these two beings often proves to be on the level of a small child. Continuing the experiment further it is possible to put one of these beings to sleep, or the experiment may begin by putting to sleep either personality or essence. Certain narcotics have the property of putting personality to sleep without affecting essence. And for a certain time after taking this narcotic a man's personality disappears, as it were, and only his essence remains. And it happens that a man full of the most varied and exalted ideas, full of sympathies and antipathies, love, hatred, attachments, patriotism, habits, tastes, desires, convictions, suddenly proves quite empty, without thoughts, without feelings, without convictions, without views. Everything that has agitated him before now leaves him completely indifferent. Sometimes he sees the artificiality and the imaginary character of his usual moods or his high-sounding words, sometimes he simply forgets them as

though they had never existed. Things for which he was ready to sacrifice his life now appear to him ridiculous and meaningless and unworthy of his attention. All that he can find in himself is a small number of instinctive inclinations and tastes. He is fond of sweets, he likes warmth, he dislikes cold, he dislikes the thought of work, or on the contrary he likes the idea of physical movement. And that is all.

"Sometimes, though very seldom, and sometimes when it is least expected, essence proves fully grown and fully developed in a man, even in cases of undeveloped personality, and in this case essence unites together everything that is serious and real in a man.

"But this happens very seldom. As a rule a man's essence is either primitive, savage, and childish, or else simply stupid. The development of essence depends on work on oneself.

"A very important moment in the work on oneself is when a man begins to distinguish between his personality and his essence. A man's real I, his individuality, can grow only from his essence. It can be said that a man's individuality is his essence, grown up, mature. But in order to enable essence to grow up, it is first of all necessary to weaken the constant pressure of personality upon it, because the obstacles to the growth of essence are contained in personality.

'If we take an average cultured man, we shall see that in the vast majority of cases his personality is the active element in him while his essence is the passive element. The inner growth of a man cannot begin so long as this order of things remains unchanged. Personality must become passive and essence must become active. This can happen only if 'buffers' are removed or weakened, because 'buffers' are the chief weapon by the help of which personality holds essence in subjection.

"As has been said earlier, in the case of less cultured people essence is often more highly developed than it is in cultured man. It would seem that they ought to be nearer the possibility of growth, but in reality it is not so because their personality proves to be insufficiently developed. For inner growth, for work on oneself, a certain development of personality as well as a certain strength of essence are necessary. Personality consists of 'rolls,' and of 'buffers' resulting from a certain work of the centers. An insufficiently developed personality means a lack of 'rolls,' that is, a lack of knowledge, a lack of information, a lack of the material upon which work on oneself must be based. Without some store of knowledge, without a certain amount of material 'not his own,' a man cannot begin to work on himself, he cannot begin to study himself, he cannot begin to struggle with his mechanical habits, simply because there will be no reason or motive for undertaking such work.

"It does not mean that all the ways are closed to him. The way of the fakir and the way of the monk, which do not require any intellectual development, remain open to him. But the methods and the means which are possible for a man of a developed intellect are impossible for him. Thus evolution is equally difficult for a cultured or an uncultured man. A cultured man lives far from nature, far from natural conditions of existence, in artificial conditions of life, developing his personality at the expense of his essence. A less cultured man, living in more normal and more natural conditions, develops his essence at the expense of his personality. A successful beginning of work on oneself requires the happy occurrence of an equal development of personality and essence. Such an occurrence will give the greatest assurance of success. If essence is very-little developed, a long preparatory period of work is required and this work will be quite fruitless if a man's essence is rotten inside or if it develops some irreparable defects. Conditions of this kind occur fairly often. An abnormal development of personality very often arrests the development of essence at such an early stage that the essence becomes a small deformed thing. From a small deformed thing nothing else can be got.

"Moreover, it happens fairly often that essence dies in a man while his personality and his body are still alive. A considerable percentage of the people we meet in the streets of a great town are people who are empty inside, that is, they are actually

already dead.

"It is fortunate for us that we do not see and do not know it. If we knew what a number of people are actually dead and what a number of these dead people govern our lives, we should go mad with horror. And indeed people often do go mad because they End out something of this nature without the proper preparation, that is, they see something they are not supposed to see. In order to see without danger one must be on the way. If a man who can do nothing sees the truth he will certainly go mad. Only this rarely happens. Usually everything is so arranged that a man can see nothing prematurely. Personality sees only what it likes to see and what does not interfere with its life. It never sees what it does not like. This is both good and bad at the same time. It is good if a man wants to sleep, bad if he wants to awaken."

"If essence is subject to the influence of fate, does it mean that compared with accident fate is always favorable to a man?" asked somebody present. "And can fate bring a man to the work?"

"No, it does not mean this at all," G. answered him. "Fate is better than accident only in the sense that it is possible to take it into account, it is possible to know it beforehand; it is possible to prepare for what is ahead. In regard to accident one can know nothing. But fate can be also unpleasant or difficult. In this event, however, there are means for isolating oneself from one's fate. The first step towards this consists in getting away from general laws. Just as there is individual accident, so is there general or collective accident. And in the same way as there is individual fate, there is a general or collective fate. Collective accident and collective

fate are governed by general laws. If a man wishes to create individuality of his own he must first free himself from general laws. General laws are by no means all obligatory for man; he can free himself from many of them if he frees himself from 'buffers' and from imagination. All this is connected with liberation from personality. Personality feeds on imagination and falsehood. If the falsehood in which man lives is decreased and imagination is decreased, personality very soon weakens and a man begins to be controlled either by fate or by a line of work which is in its turn controlled by another man's will; this will lead him until a will of his own has been formed, capable of withstanding both accident and, when necessary, fate."

The talks given embrace a period of a few months. It stands to reason that it is not possible to re-establish the talks in their exact order because very often G. touched upon twenty different subjects in an evening. Much was repeated, much depended upon the questions asked by those present, many ideas were so closely connected that they could 'only be separated artificially.

At this time certain definite types of people had already begun to show a negative attitude towards our work. Besides the absence of "love" many people were very indignant at the demand for payment, for money. In this connection it was very characteristic that those who were indignant were not those who could pay only with difficulty, but people of means for whom the sum demanded was a mere trifle.

Those who could not pay or who could pay very little always understood that they could not count upon getting something for nothing, and that G.'s work, his journeys to Petersburg, and the time that he and others gave to the work cost money. Only those who had money did not understand and did not want to understand this.

"Does this mean that we must pay to enter the Kingdom of Heaven?" they said. "People do not pay nor is money asked for such things. Christ said to his disciples: 'Take neither purse nor scrip,' and you want a thousand roubles. A very good business could be made of it. Suppose that you had a hundred members. This would already make a hundred thousand, and if there were two hundred, three hundred? Three hundred thousand a year is very good money."

G. always smiled when I told him about talks like this.

"Take neither purse nor scrip! And need not a railway ticket be taken either? The hotel paid? You see how much falsehood and hypocrisy there is here. No, even if we needed no money at all it would still be necessary to keep this payment. It rids us at once of many useless people. Nothing shows up people so much as their attitude towards money. They are ready to waste as much as you like on their own personal fantasies but they have no valuation whatever of another person's labor. I must work for them and give them gratis everything that they vouchsafe to take from me. 'How is it possible to trade in knowledge? This ought to be free.' It is precisely for this reason that the demand for this payment is necessary. Some people will never pass this barrier. And if they do not pass this one, it means that they will never pass another. Besides, there are other considerations. Afterwards you will see."

The other considerations were very simple ones. Many people indeed could not pay. And although in principle G. put the question very strictly, in practice he never refused anybody on the grounds that they had no money. And it was found out later that he even supported many of his pupils. The people who paid a thousand roubles paid not only for themselves but for others.

Chapter Nine

AT ONE lecture G. began to draw the diagram of the universe in an entirely new way. "So far we have spoken of the forces that create worlds," he said, "of the process of creation proceeding from the Absolute. We will now speak of the processes which take place in the already created and existing world. But you must remember that the process of creation never stops, although, on a planetary scale, growth proceeds so slowly that if we reckon it in our time planetary conditions can be regarded as per­manent for us.

"Therefore, let us take the 'ray of creation' after the universe has already been created.

"The action of the Absolute upon the world, or upon the worlds created by it or within it, continues. The action of each of these worlds upon subsequent worlds continues in exactly the same way. 'All suns' of the Milky Way influence our sun. The sun influences the planets. 'All planets' influence our earth and the earth influences the moon. These influences are transmitted by means of radiations passing through starry and interplanetary space.

"In order to study these radiations let us take the 'ray of creation' in an abridged form: Absolute-sun-earth-moon, or in other words let us imagine the 'ray of creation' in the form of three octaves of radiations:

the first octave between the Absolute and the sun, the second octave between the sun and the earth, and the third octave between the earth and the moon; and let us examine the passage of radiations between these four fundamental points of the universe.

"We have to find our place and understand our functions in this universe, which is taken in the form of three octaves of radiations between four points.

"In the first octave the Absolute will include two notes, do and si, with the 'interval' between them.

"Then an interval, and the 'shock' filling it, unknown to us but nevertheless inevitably existing, then mi, re.

Interval i i First Shock mi re

Fig. 22

"The radiations reach the sun. Two notes are included in the sun itself, do, an 'interval,' and si, then follow la, sol, fa—radiations going towards the earth.

□ First Shock

"Then an 'interval' and the 'shock' of organic life which fills it, then mi and re. The earth: do, an 'interval,' si, and then la, sol, fa—radiations going towards the moon; then again an 'interval,' a 'shock' unknown to us, then mi, re, and the moon, do.

"These three octaves of radiations, in which form we shall now imagine the universe, will enable us to explain the relation of matters and forces of different planes of the world to our own life.

"It must be observed that, although there are six 'intervals' in these three octaves, only three of them actually require to be supplemented from outside. The first 'interval' between do and si is filled by the will of the Absolute. The second 'interval' do-si is filled by the influence of the sun's mass upon radiations passing through it. And the third 'interval' do-si is filled by the action of the earth's mass upon radiations passing through it. Only the 'intervals' between fa and mi have to be filled by 'additional shocks.' These 'additional shocks' can come either from other octaves which pass across the given point or from parallel octaves which start from higher points. We know nothing about the nature of the 'shock' between mi-fa in the first octave Absolute-Sun. But the 'shock' in the octave Sun-Earth is organic life on earth, that is, the three notes la, sol, fa of the octave which starts in the sun. The nature of the 'shock' between mi and fa in the octave Earth-Moon is unknown to us.

"It must be noted that the term 'a point of the universe' which I have used, has

Fig. 24

a quite definite meaning, namely, a 'point' represents a certain combination of hydrogens which is organized in a definite place and fulfills a definite function in one or another system. The concept 'point' cannot be replaced by the concept 'hydrogen' because 'hydrogen' means simply matter not limited in space. A point is always limited in space. At the same time, a 'point of the universe' can be designated by the number of the 'hydrogen' which predominates in it or is central in it.

"If we now examine the first of these three octaves of radiations, that is, the octave Absolute-Sun, from the point of view of the law of three, we shall see that the note do will be the conductor of the active force, designated by the number 1, while the matter in which this force acts will be 'carbon' (C). The 'active' force which creates the note do in the Absolute represents the maximum frequency of vibrations or the greatest density of vibrations.

"The expression 'density of vibrations' corresponds to 'frequency of vibrations' and is used as the opposite to 'density of matter,' that is to say, the higher the 'density of matter' the lower the 'density 'of vibrations,' and, vice versa, the higher the 'density of vibrations' the lower the 'density of matter.' The greatest 'density of vibrations' is to be found in the finest, the most rarefied, matter. And in the densest matter possible vibrations slow down and come almost to a stop. Therefore the finest matter cor­responds to the greatest 'density of vibrations.'

"The active force in the Absolute represents the maximum 'density of vibrations,' while the matter in which these vibrations proceed, that is, the first 'carbon,' represents the minimum density of matter.

"The note si in the Absolute will be the conductor of the passive force designated by the number 2. And the matter in which this passive force acts or in which sounds the note si will be 'oxygen' (0).

"The note la will be the conductor of the neutralizing force designated by the number 3, and the matter in which sounds the note la will be 'nitrogen' (N).

"In the order of the action of the forces they will stand in the succession 1, 2, 3, that is, corresponding to the matters 'carbon,' 'oxygen,' 'nitrogen.' But by density of matter they will stand in the order: 'carbon,' 'nitrogen,' 'oxygen,' that is, 1, 3, 2, because 'nitrogen' by retaining the number 3, that is to say, by being the conductor of the neutralizing force, stands by its density of matter between 'carbon' and 'oxygen,' and 'oxygen' appears as the densest of the three.

"'Carbon,' 'oxygen,' and 'nitrogen' together will give matter of the fourth order, or 'hydrogen' (H), whose density we will designate by the number 6 (as the sum of 1, 2, 3), that is, H6:

The first triad

do С 1 1 1 si О 2 3 2 la N 3 2 3

"C, O, N retain their numbers 1, 2, 3. 'Carbon' is always 1, 'oxygen' is always 2, and 'nitrogen' is always 3.

"But being more active than 'oxygen' 'nitrogen' enters as the active principle in the next triad and enters with the density of 2. In other words 'nitrogen' has a density of 2 and 'oxygen' a density of 3.

"So that the note la of the first triad is the conductor of the active force in the next triad which it enters with the density of 2. If 'carbon' enters with the density of 2, then 'oxygen' and 'nitrogen' must correspond to it in densities, repeating the ratio of densities of the first triad. In the first triad the ratio of densities was 1, 2, 3; in the second triad it should be 2, 4, 6, that is, 'carbon' of the second triad will possess the density of 2, 'nitrogen' a density of 4, 'oxygen' a density of 6. Taken together they will give 'hydrogen' 12 (H12):

The second triad

"According to the same plan and order the following triad will be constructed: fa, 'shock,' mi. 'Carbon' which was 'nitrogen' in the second triad enters with a density of 4; the 'nitrogen' and 'oxygen' corresponding to it must have a density of 8 and 12; together they will give 'hydrogen' 24 (H24):

The third triad

"The next triad mi, re, do, by the same plan and order will give 'hydrogen' 48 (H48):

The fourth triad

"The triad do, si, la will give 'hydrogen' 96 (H96):

The fifth triad

the triad la, sol, fa—'hydrogen' 192 (H192): The sixth triad

la С 32 32 32

sol О 64 96 64 H192

fa N 96 64 96

fa, 'shock,' mi-'hydrogen' 384 (H384):

The seventh triad

64 64

192 128 H384

192 128 192

mi, re, do—'hydrogen' 768 (H768): The eighth triad

mi С 128 128 128 те О 256 384 256 do N 384 256 384

do, si, la—'hydrogen' 1536 (H1536): The ninth triad

do С 256 256 256

si О 512 768 512 H1536

la N 768 512 768

la, sol, fa—'hydrogen' 3072 (H3072): The tenth triad

fa, 'shock,' mi—'hydrogen' 6144 (H6144): The eleventh triad

fa С 1024 1024 — О 2048 3072 mi N 3072 2048

mi, re, do—'hydrogen' 12288 (H12288):

The twelfth triad

re О 4096 6144 4096 H12288

"Twelve 'hydrogens' are obtained with densities ranging from 6 to 12288. (See Table 1.)

"These twelve 'hydrogens' represent twelve categories of matter contained in the universe from the Absolute to the moon, and if it were possible to establish exactly which of these matters constitute man's organism and act in it, this alone would determine what place man occupies in the world.

"But at the place where we are situated, within the limits of our ordinary powers and capacities 'hydrogen' 6 is irresolvable; we can take it therefore as 'hydrogen' 1; the next 'hydrogen' 12 as 'hydrogen' 6. Reducing all the hydrogens that follow by 2 we obtain a scale from 'hydrogen' 1 to 'hydrogen' 6144. (See Table 2.)

"But 'hydrogen' 6 is nevertheless still irresolvable for us. Therefore we can also take it as 'hydrogen' 1, take the next 'hydrogen' after it as 'hydrogen' 6 and reduce all the following again by two.

"The scale obtained in this way from 1 to 3072 can serve us for the study of man. (See Table 3.)

"All matters from 'hydrogen' 6 to 'hydrogen' 3072 are to be found and play a part in the human organism. Each of these 'hydrogens' includes a very large group of chemical substances known to us, linked together by some function in connection with our organism. In other words, it must not be forgotten that the term 'hydrogen' has a very wide meaning. Anysimple element is a 'hydrogen' of a certain density, but any combination of elements which possesses a definite function, either in the world or in the human organism, is also a 'hydrogen.'

"This kind of definition of matters enables us to classify them in the order of their relation to life and to the functions of our organism.

"Let us begin with 'hydrogen' 768. This 'hydrogen' is defined as food, in other words, 'hydrogen' 768 includes all substances which can serve as 'food' for man. Substances which cannot serve as 'food,' such as a piece of wood, refer to 'hydrogen' 1536; a piece of iron to 'hydrogen' 3072. On the other hand, a 'thin' matter, with poor nutritive properties, will be nearer to 'hydrogen' 384.

" 'Hydrogen' 384 will be defined as water.

" 'Hydrogen' 192 is the air of our atmosphere which we breathe.

"'Hydrogen' 96 is represented by rarefied gases which man cannot breathe, but which play a very important part in his life; and further, this is the matter of animal magnetism, of emanations from the human body, of 'n-rays,' hormones, vitamins, and so on; in other words, with 'hydrogen' 96 ends what is called matter or what is regarded as matter by our physics and chemistry. 'Hydrogen' 96 also includes matters that are almost imperceptible to our chemistry or perceptible only by their traces or results, often merely presumed by some and denied by others.

" 'Hydrogens' 48, 24, 12, and 6 are matters unknown to physics and chemistry, matters of our psychic and spiritual life on different levels.

"Altogether in examining the 'table of hydrogens,' it must always be remembered that each 'hydrogen' of this table includes an enormous number of different substances connected together by one and the same function in our organism and representing a definite 'cosmic group.'

"'Hydrogen' 12 corresponds to the 'hydrogen' of chemistry (atomic weight 1). 'Carbon,' 'nitrogen,' and 'oxygen' (of chemistry) have the atomic weights: 12, 14, and 16.

"In addition it is possible to point out in the table of atomic weights elements which correspond to certain hydrogens, that is, elements whose atomic weights stand almost in the correct octave ratio to one another. Thus 'hydrogen' 24 corresponds to fluorine, Fl., atomic weight 19; 'hydrogen' 48 corresponds to Chlorine, CL., atomic weight 35.5; 'hydrogen' 96 corresponds to Bromine, Br., atomic weight 80; and 'hydrogen' 192 corresponds to Iodine, I., atomic weight 127. The atomic weights of these elements stand almost in the ratio of an octave to one another, in other words, the atomic weight of one of them is almost twice as much as the atomic weight of another. The slight inexactitude, that is, the incomplete octave relationship, is brought about by the fact that ordinary chemistry does not take into consideration all the properties of a substance, namely, it does not take into consideration 'cosmic properties.' The chemistry of which we speak here studies matter on a different basis from ordinary chemistry and takes into consideration not only the chemical and physical, but also the psychic and cosmic properties of matter.

"This chemistry or alchemy regards matter first of all from the point of view of its functions which determine its place in the universe and its relations to other matters and then from the point of view of its relation to man and to man's functions. By an atom of a substance is meant a certain small quantity of the given substance that retains all its chemical, cosmic, and psychic properties, because, in addition to its cosmic properties, every substance also possesses psychic properties, that is, a certain degree of intelligence. The concept 'atom' may therefore refer not only to elements, but also to all compound matters possessing definite functions in the universe or in the life of man. There can be an atom of water, an atom of air (that is, atmospheric air suitable for man's breathing), an atom of bread, an atom of meat, and so on. An atom of water will in this case be one-tenth of one-tenth of a cubic millimeter of water taken at a certain temperature by a special thermometer. This will be a tiny drop of water which under certain conditions can be seen with the naked eye.

"This atom is the smallest quantity of water that retains all the properties of water. On further division some of these properties disappear, that is to say, it will not be water but something approaching the gaseous state of water, steam, which does not differ chemically in any way from water in a liquid state but possesses different functions and therefore different cosmic and psychic properties.

"The 'table of hydrogens' makes it possible to examine all substances making up man's organism from the point of view of their relation to different planes of the universe. And as every function of man is a result of the action of definite substances, and as each substance is connected with a definite plane in the universe, this fact enables us to establish the relation between man's functions and the planes of the universe."

Upon me personally the "table of hydrogens" produced a very strong impression which, later on, was to become still stronger. I felt in this "ladder reaching from earth to heaven" something very like the sensations of the world which came to me several years before during my strange experiments when I felt so strongly the connectedness, the wholeness, and the "mathematicalness" of everything in the world.[1] This lecture, with different variations, was repeated many times, that is, either in connection with the explanation of the "ray of creation" or in connection with the explanation of the law of octaves. But in spite of the strange sensation it gave to me I was far from giving it its proper value the first times I heard it. And above all, I did not understand at once that these ideas are much more difficult to assimilate and are much deeper in their content than they appeared from their simple exposition.

I have preserved in my memory one episode. It happened at one of the repetitions of this lecture on the structure of matter in connection with the mechanics of the universe. The lecture was read by P., a young engineer belonging to G.'s Moscow pupils, whom I have mentioned.

I arrived when the lecture had already begun. Hearing familiar words I decided that I had already heard this lecture and therefore, sitting down in a comer of the large drawing room, I smoked and thought of something else. G. was there too.

"Why did you not listen to the lecture?" he asked me after it was over.

"But I have already heard it," I said. G. shook his head reproachfully. And quite honestly I did not understand what he expected from me, why I ought to listen for a second time to the same lecture.

I understood only much later, when lectures were over and when I tried to sum up mentally all I had heard. Often, in thinking a question over, I remembered quite distinctly that it had been spoken of at one of the lectures. But what precisely had been said I could unfortunately by no means always remember and I would have given a great deal to hear it once more.

Nearly two years later, in November, 1917, a small party of us consisting of six people, among whom was G., was living on the Black Sea shore twenty-five miles north of Tuapse, in a small country house more than a mile from the nearest habitation. One evening we sat and talked. It was already late and the weather was very bad, a northeast wind was blowing which brought now rain, now snow, in squalls.

I was thinking just of certain deductions from the 'table of hydrogens,' chiefly about one inconsistency in this diagram as compared with another of which we heard later. My question referred to hydrogens below the normal level. Later on I will explain exactly what it was I asked and what, long afterwards, G. answered- ¹A New Model of the Universe, ch. 8, "Experimental Mysticism"

This time he did not give me a direct answer.

"You ought to know that," he said, "it was spoken of in the lectures in St. Petersburg. You could not have listened. Do you remember a lecture that you did not want to hear, saying you knew it already? But what was said then is precisely what you ask about now." After a short silence he said: "Well, if you now heard that somebody was giving the same lecture at Tuapse, would you go there on foot?"

"I would," I said.

And indeed, though I felt very strongly how long, difficult, and cold the road could be, at the same time I knew that this would not stop me.

G. laughed.

"Would you really go?" he asked. "Think—twenty-five miles, darkness, snow, rain, wind."

"What is there to think about?" I said. "You know I have walked the whole way more than once, when there were no horses or when there was no room for me in the cart, and for no reward, simply because there was nothing else to be done. Of course I would go without a word if somebody were going to give a lecture on these things at Tuapse."

"Yes," said G., "if only people really reasoned in this way. But in reality they reason in exactly the opposite way. Without any particular necessity they would face any difficulties you like. But on a matter of importance that can really bring them something they will not move a finger. Such is human nature. Man never on any account wants to pay for anything; and above all he does not want to pay for what is most important for him. You now know that everything must be paid for and that it must be paid for in proportion to what is received. But usually a man thinks to the contrary. For trifles, for things that are perfectly useless to him, he will pay anything. But for something important, never. This must come to him of itself.

"And as to the lecture, what you ask was actually spoken of in St. Petersburg. If you had listened then, you would now understand that there is no contradiction whatever between the diagrams and that there cannot be any."

But to return to St. Petersburg.

In looking back now I cannot help being astonished at the speed with which G. transmitted to us the principal ideas of his system. Of course a great deal depended upon his manner of exposition, upon his astonishing capacity for bringing into prominence all principal and essential points and for not going into unnecessary details until the principal points had been understood.

After the 'hydrogens' G. at once went further.

"We want to 'do,' but" (he began the next lecture) "in everything we do we are tied and limited by the amount of energy produced by our

organism. Every function, every state, every action, every thought, every emotion, requires a certain definite energy, a certain definite substance.

"We come to the conclusion that we must 'remember ourselves.' But we can 'remember ourselves' only if we have in us the energy for 'self-remembering.' We can study something, understand or feel something, only if we have the energy for understanding, feeling, or studying.

"What then is a man to do when he begins to realize that he has not enough energy to attain the aims he has set before himself?

"The answer to this is that every normal man has quite enough energy to begin work on himself. It is only necessary to learn how to save the greater part of the energy we possess for useful work instead of wasting it unproductively.

"Energy is spent chiefly on unnecessary and unpleasant emotions, on the expectation of unpleasant things, possible and impossible, on bad moods, on unnecessary haste, nervousness, irritability, imagination, daydreaming, and so on. Energy is wasted on the wrong work of centers; on unnecessary tension of the muscles out of all proportion to the work produced; on perpetual chatter which absorbs an enormous amount of energy; on the 'interest' continually taken in things happening around us or to other people and having in fact no interest whatever; on the constant waste of the force of 'attention'; and so on, and so on.

"In beginning to struggle with all these habitual sides of his life a man saves an enormous amount of energy, and with the help of this energy he can easily begin the work of self-study and self-perfection.

"Further on, however, the problem becomes more difficult. Having to a certain extent balanced his machine and ascertained for himself that it produces much more energy than he expected, a man nevertheless comes to the conclusion that this energy is not enough and that, if he wishes to continue his work, he must increase the amount of energy produced.

"The study of the working of the human organism shows this to be quite possible.

"The human organism represents a chemical factory planned for the possibility of a very large output. But in the ordinary conditions of life the output of this factory never reaches the full production possible to it, because only a small part of the machinery is used which produces only that quantity of material necessary to maintain its own existence. Factory work of this kind is obviously uneconomic in the highest degree. The factory actually produces nothing—all its machinery, all its elaborate equipment, actually serve no purpose at all, in that it maintains only with difficulty its own existence.

"The work of the factory consists in transforming one kind of matter into another, namely, the coarser matters, in the cosmic sense, into finer ones. The factory receives, as raw material from the outer world, a number of coarse 'hydrogens' and transforms them into finer hydrogens by means of a whole series of complicated alchemical processes. But in the ordinary conditions of life the production by the human factory of the finer 'hydrogens,' in which, from the point of view of the possibility of higher states of consciousness and the work of higher centers, we are particularly interested, is insufficient and they are all wasted on the existence of the factory itself. If we could succeed in bringing the production up to its possible maximum we should then begin to save the fine 'hydrogens.' Then the whole of the body, all the tissues, all the cells, would become saturated with these fine 'hydrogens' which would gradually settle in them, crystallizing in a special way. This crystallization of the fine 'hydrogens' would gradually bring the whole organism onto a higher level, onto a higher plane of being.

"This, however, cannot happen in the ordinary conditions of life, because the 'factory' expends all that it produces.

" 'Learn to separate the fine from the coarse'—this principle from the 'Emerald Tablets of Hermes Trismegistus' refers to the work of the human factory, and if a man learns to 'separate the fine from the coarse,' that is, if he brings the production of the fine 'hydrogens' to its possible maximum, he will by this very fact create for himself the possibility of an inner growth which can be brought about by no other means. Inner growth, the growth of the inner bodies of man, the astral, the mental, and so on, is a material process completely analogous to the growth of the physical body. In order to grow, a child must have good food, his organism must be in a healthy condition to prepare from this food the material necessary for the growth of the tissues. The same thing is necessary for the growth of the 'astral body'; out of the various kinds of food entering it, the organism must produce the substances necessary for the growth of the 'astral body.' Moreover, the 'astral body' requires for its growth the same substances as those necessary to maintain the physical body, only in much greater quantities. If the physical organism begins to produce a sufficient quantity of these fine substances and the 'astral body' within it becomes formed, this astral organism will require for its maintenance less of these substances than it required during its growth. The surplus from these substances can then be used for the formation and growth of the 'mental body' which will grow with the help of the same substances that feed the 'astral body,' but of course the growth of the 'mental body' will require more of these substances than the growth and feeding of the 'astral body.' The surplus of the substances left over from the feeding of the 'mental body' will go to the growth of the fourth body. But in all cases the surplus will have to be very large. All the fine substances necessary for the growth and feeding of the higher bodies must be produced within the physical organism, and the physical organism is able to produce them provided the human factory is working properly and economically.

"All the substances necessary for the maintenance of the life of the organism, for psychic work, for the higher functions of consciousness and the growth of the higher bodies, are produced by the organism from the food which enters it from outside

"The human organism receives three kinds of food

1. The ordinary food we eat

2. The air we breathe

3. Our impressions

"It is not difficult to agree that air is a kind of food for the organism But in what way impressions can be food may appear at first difficult to understand We must however remember that, with every external im pression, whether it takes the form of sound, or vision, or smell, we receive from outside a certain amount of energy, a certain number of vibrations, this energy which enters the organism from outside is food Moreover, as has been said before, energy cannot be transmitted without matter If an external impression brings external energy with it into the organism it means that external matter also enters which feeds the organism in the full meaning of the term

"For its normal existence the organism must receive all three kinds of food, that is, physical food, air, and impressions The organism cannot exist on one or even on two kinds of food, all three are required But the relation of these foods to one another and their significance for the organism is not the same The organism can exist for a comparatively long time without a supply of fresh physical food Cases of starvation are known lasting for over sixty days, when the organism lost none of its vitality and recovered very quickly as soon as it began to take food Of course starvation of this kind cannot be considered as complete, since in all cases of such artificial starvation people have taken water Nevertheless, even without water a man can live without food for several days Without air he can exist only for a few minutes, not more than two or three, as a rule a man dies after being four minutes without air Without impressions a man cannot live a single moment If the flow of impressions were to be stopped in some way or if the organism were deprived of its capacity for receiving impressions, it would immediately die. The flow of impressions coming to us from outside is like a driving belt communicating motion to us. The principal motor for us is nature, the surrounding world. Nature transmits to us through our impressions the energy by which we live and move and have our being If the inflow of this energy is arrested, our machine will immediately stop working Thus, of the three kinds of food the most important for us is impressions, although it stands to reason that a man cannot exist for long on impressions alone Impressions and air enable a man to exist a little longer Impressions, air, and physical food enable the organism to live to the end of its normal term of life and to produce the substances necessary not only for the maintenance of life, but also for the creation and growth of higher bodies.

"The process of transforming the substances which enter the organism into finer ones is governed by the law of octaves.

"Let us take the human organism in the form of a three-story factory. The upper floor of this factory consists of a man's head; the middle floor, of the chest; and the lower, of the stomach, back, and the lower part of the body.

HEAD

CHEST

BACK AND LOWER PART OF THE BODY

Fig. 25

"Physical food is H768, or la, sol, fa of the third cosmic octave of radiations. This 'hydrogen' enters the lower story of the organism as 'oxygen' do 768.

" 'Oxygen' 768 meets with 'carbon' 192 which is present in the organism. From the union of O768 and C192 is obtained N384. N384 is the next note re.

О

Note: "Carbons" which are present in the organism are marked Fig. 2j

'Re 384 which becomes 'oxygen' in the next triad meets with 'carbon' 96 in the organism and together with it produces a new 'nitrogen' 192 which is the note mi 192.

"As it is known from the law of octaves mi cannot pass independently into fa in an ascending octave; an 'additional shock' is necessary. If an 'additional shock' is not received the substance mi 192 cannot by itself pass into the full note fa.

"At the given place in the organism "where mi 192 ought, apparently, to come to a stop there enters the 'second food'—air, in the form of do 192, that is, mi, re, do of the second cosmic octave of radiations. The note do possesses all the necessary semitones, that is, all the energy necessary for the transition to the next note, and it gives as it were a part of its energy to the note mi which has the same density as itself. The energy of do gives mi 192 force enough, while uniting with 'carbon' 48 already in the organism, to pass into 'nitrogen' 96. 'Nitrogen' 96 will be the note fa.

Fig. 30

"The note sol 48 by uniting with 'carbon' 12 present in the organism passes into 'nitrogen' 24—la 24.

Continuation of the food octave, transi­tion of products of nutrition into la 24.

Fig. 31

"La 24 unites with 'carbon' 6 present in the organism and is transformed into 'nitrogen' 12, or si 12. Si 12 is the highest substance produced in the organism from physical food with the help of the 'additional shock' obtained from the air.

Continuation of the food octave, transi­tion of the products of nutrition into si 12,

Fig. 32"Do 192 (air) entering the middle story of the factory in the character of 'oxygen' and giving part of its energy to mi 192 unites in its turn at a certain place with 'carbon' 48 present in the organism and passes into re 96.

"Re 96 passes into mi 48 with the help of 'carbon' 24 and with this the development of the second octave comes to a stop. For the transition of mi into fa, an 'additional shock' is necessary, but at this point nature has not prepared any 'additional shock' and the second octave, that is, the air octave, cannot develop further and in the ordinary conditions of life it does not develop further.

"The third octave begins with do 48. "Impressions enter the organism in the form of 'oxygen' 48, that is, la, sol, fa of the second cosmic octave Sun-Earth.

"Do 48 has sufficient energy to pass into the following note but at that place in the organism where do 48 enters, the 'carbon' 12 necessary for this is not present. At the same time do 48 does not come into contact with mi 48 so that it can neither itself pass into the next note nor give part of its energy to mi 48.

"Under normal conditions, that is, the conditions of normal existence, the production of the fine matters by the factory at this point comes to a stop and the third octave sounds as do only. The highest substance produced by the factory is si 12 and for all its higher functions the factory is able to use only this higher matter.

The three kinds of food and the digestion of H768 and H192 in the organism with the help of one mechanical "shock." The normal state of the organism and the normal production of finer substances from the products of nutrition.

Fig. 36

"There is, however, a possibility of increasing the output, that is, of enabling the air octave and the impression octave to develop further. For this purpose it is necessary to create a special kind of 'artificial shock' at the point where the beginning of the third octave is arrested. This means that the 'artificial shock' must be applied to the note do 48.

"But what is meant by an 'artificial shock'? It is connected with the moment of the reception of an impression. The note do 48 designates the moment when an impression enters our consciousness. An 'artificial shock' at this point means a certain kind of effort made at the moment of receiving an impression.

"It has been explained before that in ordinary conditions of life we do not remember ourselves; we do not remember, that is, we do not feel ourselves, are not aware of ourselves at the moment of a perception, of an emotion, of a thought or of an action. If a man understands this and tries to remember himself, every impression he receives while remembering himself will, so to speak, be doubled. In an ordinary psychic state I simply look at a street. But if I remember myself, I do not simply look at the street; I feel that I am looking, as though saying to myself: 'I am looking.' Instead of one impression of the street there are two impressions, one of the street and another of myself looking at it. This second impression, produced by the fact of my remembering myself, is the 'additional shock.' Moreover, it very often happens that the additional sensation connected with self-remembering brings with it an element of emotion, that is, the work of the machine attracts a certain amount of 'carbon' 12 to the place in question. Efforts to remember oneself, observation of oneself at the moment of receiving an impression, observation of one's impressions at the moment of receiving them, registering, so to speak, the reception of impressions and the simultaneous defining of the impressions received, all this taken together doubles the intensity of the impressions and carries do 48 to re 24. At the same time the effort connected with the transition of one note to another and the passage of 48 itself to 24 enables do 48 of the third octave to come into contact with mi 48 of the second octave and to give this note the requisite amount of energy necessary for the transition of mi to fa. In this way the 'shock' given to do 48 extends also to mi 48 and enables the second octave to develop.

"Mi 48 passes to fa 24; fa 24 passes to sol 12; sol 12 passes to la 6. La 6 is the highest matter produced by the organism from air, that is, from the second kind of food. This however is obtained only by making a conscious effort at the moment an impression is received. (See Fig. 37.)

"It is necessary to understand what this means. We all breathe the same air. Apart from the elements known to our science the air contains a great number of substances unknown to science, indefinable for it and inaccessible to its observation. But exact analysis is possible both of the air inhaled and of the air exhaled. This exact analysis shows that although

the air inhaled by different people is exactly the same, the air exhaled is quite different. Let us suppose that the air we breathe is composed of twenty different elements unknown to our science. A certain number of these elements are absorbed by every man when he breathes. Let us suppose that five of these elements are always absorbed. Consequently the air exhaled by every man is composed of fifteen elements; five of them have gone to feeding the organism. But some people exhale not fifteen but only ten elements, that is to say, they absorb five elements more. These five elements are higher 'hydrogens.' These higher 'hydrogens' are present in every small particle of air 'we inhale. By inhaling air we introduce these higher 'hydrogens' into ourselves, but if our organism does not know how to extract them out of the particles of air, and retain them, they are exhaled back into the air. If the organism is able to extract and retain them, they remain in it. In this way we all breathe the same air but we extract different substances from it. Some extract more, others less.

"In order to extract more, it is necessary to have in our organism a certain quantity of corresponding fine substances. Then the fine substances contained in the organism act like a magnet on the fine substances contained in the inhaled air. We come again to the old alchemical law: 'In order to make gold, it is first of all necessary to have a certain quantity of real gold.' 'If no gold whatever is possessed, there is no means whatever of making it.'

"The whole of alchemy is nothing but an allegorical description of the human factory and its work of transforming base metals (coarse substances) into precious ones (fine substances).

"We have followed the development of two octaves. The third octave, that is, the octave of impressions, begins through a conscious effort. Do 48 passes to re 24; re 24 passes to mi 12. At this point the development of the octave comes to a stop. (See Fig. 38.)

wsJ
/re\
\2A)
		4-х
		[uj
Development of the octave of impres­sions after the first conscious "shock."
Fig. 38
"Now if we examine the result of the development of these three octaves, we shall see that the first octave has reached si 12, the second la 6, and the third mi 12. Thus the first and third octaves stop at notes which are unable to pass to the following notes.

The complete picture of the intensive work of the organism and of the in­tensive production of substances from the products of nutrition after the

first conscious "shock." __

Fig. 39

"For the two octaves to develop further, a second conscious shock is needed at a certain point in the machine, a new conscious effort is necessary which will enable the two octaves to continue their development. The nature of this effort demands special study. From the point of view of the general work of the machine it can be said in general that this effort is connected with the emotional life, that it is a special kind of influence over one's emotions. But what this kind of influence really is, and how it has to be produced, can be explained only in connection with a general description of the work of the human factory or the human machine.

"The practice of not expressing unpleasant emotions, of not 'identifying,' of not 'considering inwardly,' is the preparation for the second effort.

"If we now take the work of the human factory as a whole, we shall be able to see at the moments when the production of fine substances is arrested by what means we can increase the productivity of the factory. We see that, under ordinary conditions and working with one mechanical 'shock' the factory produces a very small quantity of the fine substances, in fact only si 12. Working with one mechanical and one conscious 'shock' the factory now produces a much greater quantity of the fine substances. Working with two conscious 'shocks' the factory will produce a quantity of the fine substances such as, in the course of time, will completely change the character of the factory itself.

"The three-story factory represents the universe in miniature and is constructed according to the same laws and on the same plan as the whole universe.

"In order to understand the analogy between man, the human organism, and the universe, let us take the world as we did before in the form of three octaves from the Absolute to the sun, from the sun to the earth, and from the earth to the moon. Each of these three octaves lacks a semitone between fa and mi and in each octave the place of this missing semitone is taken by a certain kind of 'shock' which is created artificially at the given point. If we now begin to look for an analogy between the three-story factory and the three octaves of the universe, we ought to realize that the three 'additional shocks' in the three octaves of the universe correspond to the three kinds of food entering the human organism. The 'shock' in the lower octave corresponds to physical food; this 'shock' is do 768 of the cosmic three-story factory. The 'shock' in the middle octave corresponds to air. It is do 192 of the cosmic factory. The 'shock' in the upper octave corresponds to impressions; it is do 48 of the cosmic factory. In the inner work of this cosmic three-story factory all three kinds of food undergo the same transformation as in the human factory, on the same plan and in accordance with the same laws. A further study of the analogy between man and the universe is possible only after an exact study of the human machine and after the respective 'places' of each of the 'hydrogens' in our organism has been established exactly. This means thatto proceed with any further study we must find the exact purpose of each 'hydrogen,' that is to say, each 'hydrogen' must be defined chemically, psychologically, physiologically, and anatomically, in other words, its functions, its place in the human organism, and, if possible, the peculiar sensations connected with it must be defined.

"The study of the work of the human organism as a chemical factory shows us three stages in the evolution of the human machine.

"The first stage refers to the work of the human organism as it has been created by nature, that is to say, to the life and functions of man number one, number two, and number three. The first octave, that is, the octave of food, develops in a normal way to mi 192. At this point it automatically receives a 'shock' from the beginning of the second octave, and its development goes on consecutively to si 12. The second octave, that is, the air octave, begins with do 192 and develops to mi 48 where it stops. The third octave, that is, the octave of impressions, begins with do 48 and stops there. Thus seven notes of the first octave, three notes of the second, and one note of the third octave represent a complete picture of the work of the 'human factory' in its first or natural stage. Nature has provided only one 'shock,' that is, the 'shock' received from the entrance of the second octave which helps mi of the first octave to pass to fa. But nature did not foresee and did not provide for the second 'shock,' that is, the 'shock' that would help the development of the third octave and thereby enable mi of the second octave to pass to fa. A man must create this 'shock' by his own personal efforts if he desires to increase the output of the fine hydrogens in his organism.

"The second stage refers to the work of the human organism when a man creates a conscious volitional 'shock' at the point do 48. In the first place this volitional 'shock' is transmitted to the second octave which develops as far as sol 12, or even further up to la 6 and so on, if the work of the organism is sufficiently intense. The same 'shock' also enables the third octave to develop, that is, the octave of impressions which in this event reaches mi 12. Thus in the second stage of the work of the human organism, we see the full development of the second octave and three notes of the third octave. The first octave has stopped at the note si 12, the third at the note mi 12. Neither of these octaves can proceed any further without a fresh 'shock.' The nature of this second 'shock' cannot be so easily described as the nature of the first volitional 'shock' at do 48. In order to understand the nature of this 'shock' it is necessary to understand the meaning of si 12 and mi 12.

"The effort which creates this 'shock' must consist in work on the emotions, in the transformation and transmutation of the emotions. This transmutation of the emotions will then help the transmutation of si 12 in the human organism. No serious growth, that is, no growth of higher bodies within the organism, is possible without this transmutation. The idea of this transmutation was known to many ancient teachings as well as to some comparatively recent ones, such as the alchemy of the Middle Ages. But the alchemists spoke of this transmutation in the allegorical forms of the transformation of base metals into precious ones. In reality, however, they meant the transformation of coarse 'hydrogens' into finer ones in the human organism, chiefly of the transformation of mi 12. If this transformation is attained, a man can be said to have 'achieved what he was striving for, and it can also be said that, until this transformation is attained, all results attained by a man can be lost because they are not fixed in him in any way; moreover, they are attained only in the spheres of thought and emotion. Real, objective results can be obtained only after the transmutation of mi 12 has begun.

"Alchemists who spoke of this transmutation began directly with it. They knew nothing, or at least they said nothing, about the nature of the first volitional 'shock.' It is upon this, however, that the whole thing depends. The second volitional 'shock' and transmutation become physically possible only after long practice on the first volitional 'shock,' which consists in self-remembering, and in observing the impressions received. On the way of the monk and on the way of the fakir work on the second 'shock' begins before work on the first 'shock,' but as mi 12 is created only as a result of the first 'shock,' work, in the absence of other material, has of necessity to be concentrated on si 12, and it very often gives quite wrong results. Right development on the fourth way must begin with the first volitional 'shock' and then pass on to the second 'shock' at mi 12.

"The third stage in the work of the human organism begins when man creates in himself a conscious second volitional 'shock' at the point mi 12, when the transformation or transmutation of these 'hydrogens' into higher 'hydrogens' begins in him. The second stage and the beginning of the third stage refer to the life and functions of man number four. A fairly considerable period of. transmutation and crystallization is needed for the transition of man number four to the level of man number five.

"When the 'table of hydrogens' has been sufficiently understood, it shows immediately many new features in the work of the human machine, establishing clearly before anything else the reasons for the differences between the centers and their respective functions.

"The centers of the human machine work with different 'hydrogens.' This constitutes their chief difference. The center working with a coarser, heavier, denser 'hydrogen' works the slower. The center working with light, more mobile 'hydrogen' works the quicker.

The thinking or intellectual center is the slowest of all the three centers we have examined up to now. It works with 'hydrogen' 48 (according to the third scale of the 'table of hydrogens').

"The moving center works with 'hydrogen' 24. 'Hydrogen* 24 is many times quicker and more mobile than 'hydrogen' 48. The intellectual center is never able to follow the work of the moving center. We are unable to follow either our own movements or other people's movements unless they are artificially slowed down. Still less are we able to follow the work of the inner, the instinctive functions of our organism, the work of the instinctive mind which constitutes, as it were, one side of the moving center.

"The emotional center can work with 'hydrogen' 12. In reality, however, it very seldom works with this fine 'hydrogen.' And in the majority of cases its work differs little in intensity and speed from the work of the moving center or the instinctive center.

"In order to understand the work of the human machine and its possibilities, one must know that, apart from these three centers and those connected with them, we have two more centers, fully developed and properly functioning, but they are not connected with our usual life nor with the three centers in which we are aware of ourselves.

"The existence of these higher centers in us is a greater riddle than the hidden treasure which men who believe in the existence of the mysterious and the miraculous have sought since the remotest times.

"All mystical and occult systems recognize the existence of higher forces and capacities in man although, in many cases, they admit the existence of these forces and capacities only in the form of possibilities, and speak of the necessity for developing the hidden forces in man. This present teaching differs from many others by the fact that it affirms that the higher centers exist in man and are fully developed.

"It is the lower centers that are undeveloped. And it is precisely this lack of development, or the incomplete functioning, of the lower centers that prevents us from making use of the work of the higher centers.

"As has been said earlier, there are two higher centers:

"The higher emotional center, working with hydrogen 12, and

"The higher thinking center, working with hydrogen 6.

"If we consider the work of the human machine from the point of view of the 'hydrogens' which work the centers, we shall see why the higher centers cannot be connected with the lower ones.

"The intellectual center works with hydrogen 48; the moving center with hydrogen 24.

"If the emotional center were to work with hydrogen 12, its work would be connected with the work of the higher emotional center. In those cases where the work of the emotional center reaches the intensity and speed of existence which is given by hydrogen 12, a temporary connection with the higher emotional center takes place and man experiences new emotions, new impressions hitherto entirely unknown to him, for the description of which he has neither words nor expressions. But in ordinary con­ditions the difference between the speed of our usual emotions and the speed of the higher emotional center is so great that no connection can take place and we fail to hear within us the voices which are speaking and calling to us from the higher emotional center.

"The higher thinking center, working with hydrogen 6, is still further removed from us, still less accessible. Connection with it is possible only through the higher emotional center. It is only from descriptions of mystical experiences, ecstatic states, and so on, that we know cases of such connections. These states can occur on the basis of religious emotions, or, for short moments, through particular narcotics; or in certain pathological states such as epileptic fits or accidental traumatic injuries to the brain, in which cases it is difficult to say which is the cause and which is the effect, that is, whether the pathological state results from this connection or is its cause.

"If we could connect the centers of our ordinary consciousness with the higher thinking center deliberately and at will, it would be of no use to us whatever in our present general state. In most cases where accidental contact with the higher thinking center takes place a man becomes unconscious. The mind refuses to take in the flood of thoughts, emotions, images, and ideas which suddenly burst into it. And instead of a vivid thought, or a vivid emotion, there results, on the contrary, a complete blank, a state of unconsciousness. The memory retains only the first moment when the flood rushed in on the mind and the last moment when the flood was receding and consciousness returned. But even these moments are so full of unusual shades and colors that there is nothing with which to compare them among the ordinary sensations of life. This is usually all that remains from so-called 'mystical' and 'ecstatic' experiences, which represent a temporary connection with a higher center. Only very seldom does it happen that a mind which has been better prepared succeeds in grasping and remembering something of what was felt and understood at the moment of ecstasy. But even in these cases the thinking, the moving, and the emotional centers remember and transmit everything in their own way, translate absolutely new and never previously experienced sensations into the language of usual everyday sensations, transmit in worldly three-dimensional forms things which pass completely beyond the limits of worldly measurements; in this way, of course, they entirely distort every trace of what remains in the memory of these unusual experiences. Our ordinary centers, in transmitting the impressions of the higher centers, may be compared to a blind man speaking of colors, or to a deaf man speaking of music.

"In order to obtain a correct and permanent connection between the lower and the higher centers, it is necessary to regulate and quicken the work of the lower centers.

"Moreover, as has been already said, lower centers work in a wrong

way, for very often, instead of their own proper functions, one or another of them takes upon itself the work of other centers. This considerably reduces the speed of the general work of the machine and makes acceleration of the work of the centers very difficult. Thus in order to regulate and accelerate the work of the lower centers, the primary object must consist in freeing each center from work foreign and unnatural to it, and in bringing it back to its own work which it can do better than any other center.

"A great deal of energy is also spent on work which is completely unnecessary and harmful in every respect, such as on the activity of unpleasant emotions, on the expression of unpleasant sensations, on worry, on restlessness, on haste, and on a whole series of automatic actions which are completely useless. As many examples as you like can be found of such unnecessary activity. First of all there is the constantly moving flow of thoughts in our mind, which we can neither stop nor control, and which takes up an enormous amount of our energy. Secondly there is the quite unnecessary constant tension of the muscles of our organism. The muscles are tense even when we are doing nothing. As soon as we start to do even a small and insignificant piece of work, a whole system of muscles necessary for the hardest and most strenuous work is immediately set in motion. We pick up a needle from the floor and we spend on this action as much energy as is needed to lift up a man of our own weight. We write a short letter and use as much muscular energy upon it as would suffice to write a bulky volume. But the chief point is that we spend muscular energy continually and at all times, even when we are doing nothing. When we walk the muscles of our shoulders and arms are tensed unnecessarily; when we sit the muscles of our legs, neck, back, and stomach are tensed in an unnecessary way. We even sleep with the muscles of our arms, of our legs, of our face, of the whole of our body tensed, and we do not realize that we spend much more energy on this continual readiness for work we shall never do than on all the real, useful work we do during our life.

"Still further we can point to the habit of continually talking with anybody and about anything, or if there is no one else, with ourselves; the habit of indulging in fantasies, in daydreaming; the continual change of mood, feelings, and emotions, and an enormous number of quite useless things which a man considers himself obliged to feel, think, do, or say.

"In order to regulate and balance the work of the three centers whose functions constitute our life, it is necessary to learn to economize the energy produced by our organism, not to waste this energy on unnecessary functions, and to save it for that activity which will gradually connect the lower centers with the higher.

"All that has been said before about work on oneself, about the formation of inner unity and of the transition from the level of man number one, number two, and number three to the level of man number four and further, pursues one and the same aim. What is called according to one terminology the 'astral body,' is called in another terminology the 'higher emotional center,' although the difference here does not lie in the terminology alone. These are, to speak more correctly, different aspects of the next stage of man's evolution. It can be said that the 'astral body' is necessary for the complete and proper functioning of the 'higher emotional center' in unison with the lower. Or it can be said that the 'higher emotional center' is necessary for the work of the 'astral body.'

"The 'mental body' corresponds to the 'higher thinking center.' It would be wrong to say that they are one and the same thing. But one requires the other, one cannot exist without the other, one is the expression of certain sides and functions of the other.

"The fourth body requires the complete and harmonious working of all centers; and it implies, or is the expression of, complete control over this working.

"What is necessary to understand and what the 'table of hydrogens' helps us to grasp, is the idea of the complete materiality of all the psychic, intellectual, emotional, volitional, and other inner processes, including the most exalted poetic inspirations, religious ecstasies, and mystical revelations.

"The materiality of processes means their dependence upon the quality of the material or substance used on them. One process demands the expenditure, that is, as it were, the burning, of hydrogen 48; another process cannot be obtained with the help of hydrogen 48; it requires a finer, a more combustible substance—hydrogen 24. For a third process hydrogen 24 is too weak; it requires hydrogen 12.

"Thus we see that our organism has the different kinds of fuel necessary for the different centers. The centers can be compared to machines working on fuels of different qualities. One machine can be worked on oil residue or crude oil. Another requires kerosene; a third will not work with kerosene but requires gasoline. The fine substances of our organism can be characterized as substances of different flash­points, while the organism itself can be compared to a laboratory in which the combustibles of different strengths required by the different centers are prepared from various kinds of raw material. Unfortunately, however, there is something wrong with the laboratory. The forces controlling the distribution of combustibles among the different centers often make mistakes and the centers receive fuel that is either too weak or too easily inflammable. Moreover, a great quantity of all the combustibles produced is spent quite uselessly; it simply runs out; is lost. Besides, explosions often take place in the laboratory which at one stroke destroy all the fuel prepared for the next day and possibly for even a longer period, and are able to cause irreparable dam­age to the whole factory.

"It must be noted that the organism usually produces in the course of one day all the substances necessary for the following day. And it very often happens that all these substances are spent or consumed upon some unnecessary and, as a rule, unpleasant emotion. Bad moods, worry, the expectation of something unpleasant, doubt, fear, a feeling of injury, irritation, each of these emotions in reaching a certain degree of intensity may, in half an hour, or even half a minute, consume all the substances prepared for the next day; while a single flash of anger, or some other violent emotion, can at once explode all the substances prepared in the laboratory and leave a man quite empty inwardly for a long time or even forever.

"All psychic processes are material. There is not a single process that does not require the expenditure of a certain substance corresponding to it. If this substance is present, the process goes on. When the substance is exhausted, the process comes to a stop."

Chapter Ten

ONCE there was a meeting with a large number of people who had not been at our meetings before. One of them asked: "From what does the way start?" The person who asked the question had not heard G.'s description of the four ways and he used the word "way" in the usual religious-mystical sense.

"The chief difficulty in understanding the idea of the way,"' said G., "consists in the fact that people usually think that the way" (he emphasized this word) "starts on the same level on which life is going. This is quite wrong. The way begins on another, much higher, level. This is exactly what people usually do not understand. The beginning of the way is thought to be easier or simpler than it is in reality. I will try to explain this in the following way.

"Man lives in life under the law of accident and under two kinds of influences again governed by accident.

"The first kind are influences created in life itself or by life itself. Influences of race, nation, country, climate, family, education, society, profession, manners and customs, wealth, poverty, current ideas, and so on. The second kind are influences created outside this life, influences of the inner circle, or esoteric influences— influences, that is, created under different laws, although also on the earth. These influences differ from the former, first of all in being conscious in their origin. This means that they have been created consciously by conscious men for a definite purpose. Influences of this kind are usually embodied in the form of religious systems and teachings, philosophical doctrines, works of art, and so on.

"They are let out into life for a definite purpose, and become mixed with influences of the first kind. But it must be borne in mind that these influences are conscious only in their origin. Coming into the general vortex of life they fall under the general law of accident and begin to act mechanically, that is, they may act on a certain definite man or may not act; they may reach him or they may not. In undergoing change and distortion in life through transmission and interpretation, influences of the second kind are transformed into influences of the first kind, that is, they become, as it were, merged into the influences of the first kind.

"If we think about this, we shall see that it is not difficult for us to distinguish influences created in life from influences whose source lies outside life. To enumerate them, to make up a catalogue of the one and the other, is impossible. It is necessary to understand; and the whole thing depends upon this understanding. We have spoken about the beginning of the way. The beginning of the way depends precisely upon this understanding or upon the capacity for discriminating between the two kinds of influences. Of course, their distribution is unequal. One man receives more of the influences whose source lies outside life, another less; a third is almost isolated from them. But this cannot be helped. This is already fate. Speaking in general and taking normal life under normal conditions and a normal man, conditions are more or less the same for everybody, that is, to put it more correctly, difficulties are equal for everybody. The difficulty lies in separating the two kinds of influences. If a man in receiving them does not separate them, that is, does not see or does not feel their difference, their action upon him also is not separated, that is, they act in the same way, on the same level, and produce the same results. But if a man in receiving these influences begins to discriminate between them and put on one side those which are not created in life itself, then gradually discrimination becomes easier and after a certain time a man can no longer confuse them with the ordinary influences of life.

"The results of the influences whose source lies outside life collect together within him, he remembers them together, feels them together. They begin to form within him a certain whole. He does not give a clear account to himself as to what, how, and why, or if he does give an account to himself, then he explains it wrongly. But the point is not in this, .but in the fact that the results of these influences collect together within him and after a certain time they form within him a kind of magnetic center, which begins to attract to itself kindred influences and in this manner it grows. If the magnetic center receives sufficient nourishment, and if there is no strong resistance on the part of the other sides of a man's personality which are the result of influences created in life, the magnetic center begins to influence a man's orientation, obliging him to turn round and even to move in a certain direction. When the magnetic center attains sufficient force and development, a man already understands the idea of the way and he begins to look for the way. The search for the way may take many years and may lead to nothing. This depends upon conditions, upon circumstances, upon the power of the magnetic center, upon the power and the direction of inner tendencies which are not concerned with this search and which may divert a man at the very moment when the possibility of finding the way appears.

"If the magnetic center works rightly and if a man really searches, or even if he does not search actively yet feels rightly, he may meet another man who knows the way and who is connected directly or through other

people with a center existing outside the law of accident, from which proceed the ideas which created the magnetic center.

"Here again there are many possibilities. But this will be spoken of later on. For the moment let us imagine that he has met a man who really knows the way and is ready to help him. The influence of this man upon him goes through his magnetic center. And then, at this point, the man frees himself from the law of accident. This is what must be understood. The influence of the man who knows the way upon the first man is a special kind of influence, differing from the former two, first of all in being a direct influence, and secondly in being a conscious influence. Influences of the second kind, which create magnetic center, are conscious in their origin but afterwards they are thrown into the general vortex of life, are intermixed with influences created in life itself, and are equally subject to the law of accident. Influences of the third kind can never be subject to the law of accident; they are themselves outside the law of accident and their action also is outside the law of accident. Influences of the second kind can proceed through books, through philosophical systems, through rituals. Influences of the third kind can proceed only from one person to another, directly, by means of oral transmission.

"The moment when the man who is looking for the way meets a man who knows the way is called the first threshold or the first step. From this first threshold the stairway begins. Between 'life' and the 'way' lies the 'stairway.' Only by passing along this 'stairway' can a man enter the 'way.' In addition, the man ascends this stairway with the help of the man who is his guide; he cannot go up the stairway by himself. The way begins only where the stairway ends, that is, after the last threshold on the stairway, on a level much higher than the ordinary level of life.

"Therefore it is impossible to answer the question, from what does the way start? The way starts with something that is not in life at all, and therefore it is impossible to say from what. Sometimes it is said: in ascending the stairway a man is not sure of anything, he may doubt everything, his own powers, whether what he is doing is right, the guide, his knowledge and his powers. At the same time, what he attains is very unstable;

even if he has ascended fairly high on the stairway, he may fall down at any moment and have to begin again from the beginning. But when he has passed the last threshold and enters the way, all this changes. First of all, all doubts he may have about his guide disappear and at the same time the guide becomes far less necessary to him than before. In many respects he may even be independent and know where he is going. Secondly, he can no longer lose so easily the results of his work and he cannot find himself again in ordinary life. Even if he leaves the way, he will be unable to return where he started from.

"This is almost all that can be said in general about the 'stairway' and about the 'way,' because there are different ways. We have spoken of this before. And, for instance, on the fourth way there are special conditions which cannot be on the other ways. Thus the conditions for ascending the stairway on the fourth way are that a man cannot ascend to a higher step until he places another man upon his own step. The other, in his turn, must put in his place a third man in order to ascend higher. Thus, the higher a man ascends the more he depends upon those who are following him. If they stop he also stops. Such situations as this may also occur on the way. A man may attain something, for instance, some special powers, and may later on sacrifice these powers in order to raise other people to his level. If the people with whom he is working ascend to his level, he will receive back all that he has sacrificed. But if they do not ascend, he may lose it altogether.

"There are also various possibilities as regards the teacher's situation in relation to the esoteric center, namely, he may know more or he may know less about the esoteric center, he may know exactly where this center is and how knowledge and help was or is received from it; or he may know nothing of this and may only know the man from whom he himself received his knowledge. In most cases people start precisely from the point that they know only one step higher than themselves. And only in proportion to their own development do they begin to see further and to recognize where what they know came from.

"The results of the work of a man who takes on himself the role of teacher do not depend on whether or not he knows exactly the origin of what he teaches, but very much depends on whether or not his ideas come in actual fact from the esoteric center and whether he himself understands and can distinguish esoteric ideas, that is, ideas of objective knowledge, from subjective, scientific, and philosophical ideas.

"So far I have spoken of the right magnetic center, of the right guide, and of the right way. But a situation is possible in which the magnetic center has been wrongly formed. It may be divided in itself, that is, it may include contradictions. In it, moreover, may enter influences of the first kind, that is, those created in life, under the guise of influences of the second kind, or the traces of influences of the second kind but distorted to such an extent that they have become their own opposite. Such a wrongly formed magnetic center cannot give a right orientation. A man with a wrong magnetic center of this kind may also look for the way and he may meet another man who will call himself a teacher and will say that he knows the way and that he is connected with a center standing outside the law of accident. But in reality he may not know the way and may not be connected with such a center. Moreover here again there are many possibilities:

"1. He may be genuinely mistaken and think that he knows something, when in reality he knows nothing. "2. He may believe another man, who in his

turn may be mistaken. "3. He may deceive consciously.

"Then if the man who is seeking the way believes him, he may lead him in a quite different direction and not where he promises; he may lead him very far from the right way and bring him to results directly opposite to the results of the right way.

"But fortunately this happens very rarely, that is, wrong ways are very numerous but in the majority of cases they do not lead anywhere. And a man simply turns circles on the same spot and thinks that he is going somewhere."

"How can a wrong way be recognized?" asked somebody.

"How can it be recognized?" said G. "It is. impossible to recognize a wrong way without knowing the right way. This means that it is no use troubling oneself how to recognize a wrong way. One must think of how to find the right way. This is what we are speaking about all the time. It cannot be said in two words. But from what I have said you can draw many useful conclusions if you remember everything that has been said and everything which follows from it. For example, you can see that the teacher always corresponds to the level of the pupil. The higher the pupil, the higher can be the teacher. But a pupil of a level which is not particularly high cannot count on a teacher of a very high level. Actually a pupil can never see the level of the teacher. This is a law. No one can see higher than his own level. But usually people not only do not know this, but, on the contrary, the lower they are themselves, the higher the teacher they demand. The right understanding of this point is already a very consid­erable understanding. But it occurs very seldom. Usually the man himself is not worth a brass farthing but he must have as teacher no other than Jesus Christ. To less he will not agree. And it never enters his head that even if he were to meet such a teacher as Jesus Christ, taking him as he is described in the Gospels, he would never be able to follow him because it would be necessary to be on the level of an apostle in order to be a pupil of Jesus Christ. Here is a definite law. The higher the teacher, the more difficult for the pupil. And if the difference in the levels of the teacher and pupil go beyond a certain limit, then the difficulties in the path of the pupil become insuperable. It is exactly in connection with this law that there occurs one of the fundamental rules of the fourth way. On the fourth way there is not one teacher. Whoever is the elder, he is the teacher. And as the teacher is indispensable to the pupil, so also is the pupil indispensable to the teacher. The pupil cannot go on without the teacher, and the teacher cannot go on without the pupil or pupils. And this is not a general consideration but an indispensable and quite concrete rule on which is based the law of a man's ascending. As has been said before, no one can ascend onto a higher step until he places another man in his own place. What a man has received he must immediately give back; only then can he receive more. Otherwise from him will be taken even what he has already been given."

At one of the following meetings, in the presence of G., when he made me repeat what he had said about the way and about magnetic center, I embodied his idea in the following diagram:

A ... influences created in life, that is, in life itself—the first kind of influences B ... influences created outside life but thrown into the general vortex of life—the

second kind of influences Hi ... a man, connected by means of succession with the esoteric center or pretending to it

E ... esoteric center, standing outside the general laws of life M ... magnetic center in man

C ... influence of man h1 on man h; in the event of his actually being connected with the esoteric center, directly or by succession, this is the third kind of influences. This influence is conscious, and under its action at the point m, that is, in the magnetic center, a man becomes free from the law of accident H2 ... a man, deceiving himself or deceiving others and having no connection, either directly or by succession, with the esoteric center fig. 40

At one of the following meetings, after a fairly long talk on knowledge and being, G. said:

"Strictly speaking, you cannot as yet speak of knowledge because you do not know with what knowledge begins.

"Knowledge begins with the teaching of the cosmoses. "You know the expressions 'macrocosm' and 'microcosm.' This means 'large cosmos' and 'small cosmos,' 'large world' and 'small world.' The universe is regarded as a 'large cosmos' and man as a 'small cosmos,' analogous to the large one. This establishes, as it were, the idea of the unity and the similarity of the world and man.

"The teaching of the two cosmoses is known from the Cabala and other more ancient systems. But this teaching is incomplete and nothing can be derived from it, nothing can be built on it. Nothing can be derived from it because this teaching is merely a fragment split off from another, much fuller, ancient esoteric teaching about cosmoses or worlds, included one within another and created in the image and the likeness of the greatest of them, including in itself all the others. "As above, so below," is an expression which refers to cosmoses.

"But it is essential to know that the full teaching on cosmoses speaks not of two, but of seven cosmoses, included one within another.

"Seven cosmoses, taken together in their relation to one another, alone represent a complete picture of the universe. The idea of two analogous cosmoses, accidentally preserved from a great and complete teaching, is so incomplete that it can give no idea whatever of the analogy between man and the world. "The teaching on cosmoses examines seven cosmoses:

"The first cosmos is the Protocosmos—the first cosmos. "The second cosmos is the Ayocosmos, the holy cosmos, or the Megalocosmos, the 'great cosmos.' "The third cosmos is the Macrocosmos—the 'large cosmos.' "The fourth cosmos is the Deuterocosmos—the 'second cosmos.' "The fifth cosmos is the Mesocosmos—the 'middle cosmos.' "The sixth cosmos is the Tritocosmos—the 'third cosmos.' "The seventh cosmos is the Microcosmos—the 'small cosmos.' "The Protocosmos is the Absolute in the ray of creation, or world 1. The Ayocosmos is world 3 ('all worlds' in the ray of creation). The Macro-cosmos is our starry world or the Milky Way (world 6 in the ray of creation). The Deuterocosmos is the sun, the solar system (world 12). The Mesocosmos is 'all planets' (world 24), or the earth as the representative of the planetary world. The Tritocosmos is man. The Microcosmos is the 'atom.'

"As I have already explained before," said G., "what is called 'atom' is the smallest amount of any substance in which the substance retains all

its properties, physical, chemical, psychical, and cosmic. From this point of view there can, for instance, be an 'atom of water.'

"You see that in the general order of the seven cosmoses the Microcosm and the Macrocosm stand so far apart from each other that it is impossible to see or establish any direct analogy between them.

"Each cosmos is a living being which lives, breathes, thinks, feels, is born, and dies.

"All cosmoses result from the action of the same forces and the same laws. Laws are the same everywhere. But they manifest themselves in a different, or at least, in not quite the same way on different planes of the universe, that is, on different levels. Consequently cosmoses are not quite analogous one to another. If the law of octaves did not exist, the analogy between them would have been complete, but owing to the law of octaves there is no complete analogy between them, just as there is no complete analogy between the different notes of the octave. It is only three cosmoses, taken together, that are similar and analogous to any other three.

"The conditions of the action of laws on each plane, that is, in each cosmos, are determined by the two adjoining cosmoses, the one above and the one below. Three cosmoses standing next to one another give a complete picture of the manifestation of the laws of the universe. One cosmos cannot give a complete picture. Thus in order to know one cosmos, it is necessary to know the two adjoining cosmoses, the one above and the one below the first, that is, one larger and one smaller. Taken together, these two cosmoses determine the one that lies between them. Thus the Mesocosmos and the Microcosmos, taken together, determine the Tritocosmos. The Deuterocosmos and the Tritocosmos determine the Mesocosmos, and so on.

"The relation of one cosmos to another is different from the relation of one world to another in the astronomical ray of creation. In the ray of creation worlds are taken in the actual relation in which they exist in the universe for us, from our point of view: the moon, the earth, the planets, the sun, the Milky Way, and so on. Therefore the quantitative interrelation of the worlds one to another in the ray of creation is not permanent. In one case or on one level it is greater, for instance, the relation of 'all suns' to our sun; in another case, on another level, it is less, for instance, the relation of the earth to the moon. But the interrelation of the cosmoses is permanent and always the same. That is to say, one cosmos is related to another as zero to infinity. This means that the relation of the Microcosmos to the Tritocosmos is the same as that of zero to infinity; the relation of the Tritocosmos to the Mesocosmos is that of zero to infinity;

the relation of the Mesocosmos to the Deuterocosmos is that of zero to infinity; and so on.

"In order to understand the meaning of the division into cosmoses and the relation of cosmoses to each other, it is necessary to understand what the relation of zero to infinity means. If we understand what this means, the principle of the division of the universe into cosmoses, the necessity of such a division, and the impossibility of drawing for ourselves a more or less lucid picture of the world without this division will immediately become clear to us.

"The idea of cosmoses helps us to understand our place in the world; and it solves many problems, as for instance, those connected with space, with time, and so on. And above all this idea serves to establish exactly the principle of relativity. The latter is especially important for it is quite impossible to have an exact conception of the world without having established the principle of relativity.

"The idea of cosmoses enables us to put the study of relativity on a firm basis. At the first glance there is much that seems paradoxical in the system of cosmoses. In reality, however, this apparent paradox is simply relativity.

"The idea of the possibility of broadening man's consciousness and increasing his capacities for knowledge stands in direct relation to the teaching on cosmoses. In his ordinary state a man is conscious of himself in one cosmos, and all the other cosmoses he looks at from the point of view of one cosmos. The broadening of his consciousness and the intensifying of his psychic functions lead him into the sphere of activity and life of two other cosmoses simultaneously, the one above and the one below, that is, one larger and one smaller. The broadening of consciousness does not proceed in one direction only, that is, in the direction of the higher cosmoses; in going above, at the same time it goes below.

"This last idea will, perhaps, explain to you some expressions you may have met with in occult literature; for instance, the saying that 'the way up is at the same time the way down.' As a rule this expression is quite wrongly interpreted.

"In reality this means that if, for instance, a man begins to feel the life of the planets, or if his consciousness passes to the level of the planetary world, he begins at the same time to feel the life of atoms, or his consciousness passes to their level. In this way the broadening of consciousness proceeds simultaneously in two directions, towards the greater and towards the lesser. Both the great and the small require for their cognition a like change in man. In looking for parallels and analogies between the cosmoses we may take each cosmos in three relations:

"1. in its relation to itself,

"2. in its relation to a higher or a larger cosmos, and

"3. in its relation to a lower, or a smaller cosmos,

"The manifestation of the laws of one cosmos in another cosmos constitutes what we call a miracle. There can be no other kind of miracle. A miracle is not a breaking of laws, nor is it a phenomenon outside laws.

It is a phenomenon which takes place according to the laws of another cosmos. These laws are incomprehensible and unknown to us, and are therefore miraculous.

"In order to understand the laws of relativity, it is very useful to examine the life and phenomena of one cosmos as though looking at them from another cosmos, that is, to examine them from the point of view of the laws of another cosmos. All the phenomena of the life of a given cosmos, examined from another cosmos, assume a completely different aspect and have a completely different meaning. Many new phenomena appear and many other phenomena disappear. This in general completely changes the picture of the world and of things.

"As has been said before, the idea of cosmoses alone can provide a firm basis for the establishment of the laws of relativity. Real science and real philosophy ought to be founded on the understanding of the laws of relativity. Consequently it is possible to say that science and philosophy, in the true meaning of these terms, begin with the idea of cosmoses."

Having said these words, after a fairly long silence, G. turned to me and added:

"Try to discuss all I have said just now, from the point of view of your dimensions."

"All that you have said," I said, "refers without doubt to the problems of dimensions. But before I pass to them, I should like to elucidate one point, which is not quite clear to me. It is what you said about the Microcosmos. We are accustomed to connect the idea of the Microcosmos with man. This means that man represents a world in himself. A world analogous to the large world, the Macrocosmos. But you give man the name of Tritocosmos, that is, the third cosmos. Why third? The first is Protocosmos; the second, the sun or Deuterocosmos. Why is man the third cosmos?"

"It is difficult to explain at present," said G.; "you will understand this later."

"But do you really mean that the concept Microcosmos cannot be used in relation to man?" asked one of the audience. "This creates a strange difference in terminology."

"Yes, yes," said G. "Man is the Tritocosmos. The Microcosmos is the atom or rather"—he paused as though looking for a word—"the microbe.

"But do not stop over this question. All that will be explained later."¹

Then he again turned to me.

"See what you can say from your point of view, taking everything just as I said it."

"First of all we must examine what the ratio of zero to infinity means," I said. "If we understand this, we shall understand the relation of one

4 mention this here because later G. changed this.

cosmos to another. In the world accessible to our study we have a perfectly clear example of the relation of zero to infinity. In geometry this is the relation of one unit of a certain number of dimensions to another unit of a greater number of dimensions. The relation of a point to a line, of a line to a plane, of a plane to a solid, of a solid, that is, of a three-dimensional body to a four-dimensional body, and so on.

"If we adopt this point of view, we shall have to admit that the relation of one cosmos to another is the relation of two bodies of different dimensions. If one cosmos is three-dimensional then the next cosmos, that is, the one above it, must be four- dimensional, the next—five-dimensional, and so on. If we take the 'atom' or 'microbe,' as you say, that is, the Microcosmos as a point, then relative to this point man will be a line, that is, a figure of one dimension. The next cosmos, the earth, will be a plane relative to man, that is, it will have two dimensions, as is actually the case for direct perception. The sun, the solar system, will be three-dimensional for the earth. The starry world will be four-dimensional for the sun. 'All worlds' are five-dimensional, and the Absolute or Protocosmos is six-dimensional.

"What personally interests me most in this system of cosmoses is that I see in them the full 'period of dimensions,' of my New Model of the Universe. It is not merely a coincidence of details—it is absolutely identical. I do not know how it has come about; I have never heard of seven cosmoses related to one another in the ratio of zero to infinity. Nevertheless my 'period of dimensions' coincides with this absolutely exactly.

"The 'period of dimensions' contains within itself seven dimensions: The zero-dimension, the first, the second, and so on up to the sixth dimension. The zero-dimension or the point is a limit. This means that we see something as a point, but we do not know what is concealed behind this point. It may actually be a point, that is, a body having no dimensions and it may also be a whole world, but a world so far removed from us or so small that it appears to us as a point. The movement of this point in space will appear to us as a line. In the same way the point itself will see the space along which it moves as a line. The movement of the line in a direction perpendicular to itself will be a plane and the line itself will see the space along which it moves in the shape of a plane.

"Up to now I have examined the line from the point of view of the point, and the plane from the point of view of the line, but the point, the line, and the plane can also be taken from the point of view of a three-dimensional body. In this case the plane will be the boundary of the body, or its side, or its section. The line will be the boundary limiting the plane, or the section of the plane. The point will be the limit or the section of the line.

"A three-dimensional body differs from the point, the line, and the plane by the fact that it has a real physical existence for our perception.

"The plane is in fact only a projection of a body, the line is a projection of a plane, and the point is a projection of a line.

"A 'body' has an independent physical existence, that is, it possesses a number of different physical properties.

"But when we say a thing 'exists,' we mean by this existence in time. But there is no time in three-dimensional space. Time lies outside the three-dimensional space. Time, as we feel it, is the fourth dimension. Existence is for us existence in time. Existence in time is movement or extension along the fourth dimension. If we take existence as an extension along the fourth dimension, if we think of life as a four- dimensional body, then a three-dimensional body will be its section, its projection, or its limit.

"But existence in time does not embrace all the aspects of existence. Apart from existing in time, everything that exists, exists also in eternity.

"Eternity is the infinite existence of every moment of time. If we conceive time as a line, then this line will be crossed at every point by the lines of eternity. Every point of the line of time will be a line in eternity. The line of time will be a plane of eternity. Eternity has one dimension more than time. Therefore, if time is the fourth dimension, eternity is the fifth dimension. If the space of time is four-dimensional, then the space of eternity is five-dimensional.

"Further, in order to understand the idea of the fifth and the sixth dimensions, a certain view of time must be established.

"Every moment of time contains a certain number of possibilities, at times a small number, at others a great number, but never an infinite number. It is necessary to realize that there are possibilities and there are impossibilities. I can take from this table and throw on the floor a piece of paper, a pencil, or an ash-tray, but I cannot take from the table and throw on the floor an orange which is not on the table. This clearly defines the difference between possibility and impossibility. There are several combinations of possibilities in relation to things which can be thrown on the floor from this table. I can throw a pencil, or a piece of paper, or an ash-tray, or else a pencil and a piece of paper, or a pencil and an ash-tray, or a piece of paper and an ash-tray, or all three together, or nothing at all. There are only these possibilities. If we take as a moment of time the moment when these possibilities exist, then the next moment will be a moment of the actualization of one of the possibilities. A pencil is thrown on the floor. This is the actualization of one of the possibilities. Then a new moment comes. This moment also has a certain number of possibilities in a certain definite sense. And the moment after it will again be a moment of the actualization of one of the possibilities. The consecutiveness of these moments of actualization of one possibility constitutes the line of time. But each moment of time has an infinite existence in eternity. The possibilities which have been actualized con­tinue to be endlessly actualized in eternity, while the non-actualized possibilities continue to remain non-actualized and non-actualizable.

"But all the possibilities that have been created or have originated in the world must be actualized. The actualization of all the possibilities created or originated constitutes the world's being. At the same time there is no place for the actualization of these possibilities within the limits of eternity. In eternity everything that has been actualized continues to be actualized and everything non-actualized continues to remain non-actualized. Eternity, however, is only a plane crossed by the line of time. At every point of this line there remains a certain number of non-actualized possibilities. If we imagine the line of the actualization of these possibilities, they will proceed along radii issuing from one point at different angles to the line of time and the line of eternity. These lines will proceed outside eternity, outside the five- dimensional space, in 'higher eternity' or in six-dimensional space, in the sixth dimension.

"The sixth dimension is the line of the actualization of all possibilities.

"The fifth dimension is the line of the eternal existence or repetition of the actualized possibilities.

"The fourth dimension is the sequence of the moments of the actualization of one possibility.

"As I have said, seven dimensions, from zero-dimension to the sixth dimension, constitute the full period of dimensions. Beyond this period there is either nothing or the same period may repeat itself on another scale.

"As I have already said, the system of cosmoses, the exposition of which we have just heard, strikes me above all by the fact that it fully corresponds to the 'period of dimension' which is the basis of my New Model of the Universe, only this system of cosmoses goes still further and explains many things which were not clear in my model of the universe.

"Thus, if we take the Microcosmos, that is, the 'atom' or 'microbe,' as G. has defined it, then the Tritocosmos for it will be four-dimensional space, the Mesocosmos will be five-dimensional space, and the Deuterocosmos six-dimensional space.

"This means that all the possibilities of the 'atom' or 'microbe' are realized within the limits of the solar system.

"If we take man as the Tritocosmos, then, for him, the Mesocosmos will be four- dimensional space, the Deuterocosmos five-dimensional space, and the Macrocosmos six-dimensional space. This means that all the possibilities of the Tritocosmos are realized in the Macrocosmos.

"Therefore parallel with this, all the possibilities of the Mesocosmos are realized in the Ayocosmos and all the possibilities of the Deuterocosmos, or the sun, are realized in the Protocosmos or the Absolute.

"As every cosmos has a real physical existence, every cosmos therefore is three- dimensional for itself or in itself. In relation to a lower cosmos it is four-dimensional, in relation to a higher cosmos it is a point. To put it differently, it is, itself, three-dimensional, but the fourth dimension lies for it in the cosmos above and the cosmos below. This last point is perhaps the most paradoxical, but nevertheless it is exactly as it should be. For a three-dimensional body, such as is a cosmos, the fourth dimension lies as much in the realm of very large magnitudes as in the realm of very small magnitudes; as much in the realm of what is actually infinity as in the realm of what is actually zero.

"Further we must understand that the three-dimensionality of even one and the same body can be different. Only a six-dimensional body can be completely real. A five- dimensional body is only an incomplete view of a six-dimensional body, a four- dimensional body is an incomplete view of a five-dimensional body, a three- dimensional body is an incomplete view of a four-dimensional body. And of course, a plane is an incomplete view of a three-dimensional body, that is to say, a view of one side of it. In the same way a line is an incomplete view of a plane and a point is an incomplete view of a line.

"Moreover, though we do not know how, a six-dimensional body can see itself as three-dimensional. Somebody looking at it from outside may possibly also see it as a three-dimensional body, but in a completely different kind of three-dimensionality. For instance, we represent the earth to ourselves as three-dimensional. This three- dimensionality is only imaginary. As a three-dimensional body the earth is something quite different for itself from what it is for us. Our view of it is incomplete, we see it as a section of a section of a section of its complete being. The 'earthly globe' is an imaginary body. It is the section of a section of a section of the six-dimensional earth. But this six-dimensional earth can also be three-dimensional for itself, only we do not know and we can have no conception of the form in which the earth sees itself.

"The possibilities of the earth are actualized in the Ayocosmos; this means that in the Ayocosmos the earth is a six-dimensional body. And actually we can to a certain extent see in what way the form of the earth must change. In the Deuterocosmos, that is, in relation to the sun, the earth is no longer a point (taking a point as a scale reduction of a three-dimensional body), but a line which we trace as the path of the earth around the sun. If we take the sun in the Macrocosmos, that is, if we visualize the line of the sun's motion, then the line of the motion of the earth will become a spiral encircling the line of the sun's motion. If we conceive a lateral motion of this spiral, then this motion will construct a figure which we cannot imagine because we do not know the nature of its motion, but which, nevertheless, will be the six- dimensional figure of the earth, which the earth itself can see as a three-dimensional figure. It is necessary to establish and to understand this because otherwise the idea of the three-dimensionality of the cosmoses will become linked with

our idea of three-dimensional bodies. The three-dimensionality even of one and the same body can be different.

"And this last point seems to me to be connected with what G. calls the 'principle of relativity.' His principle of relativity has nothing in common with the principle of relativity in mechanics or with Einstein's principle of relativity. It is the same again as in the New Model of the Universe; it is the principle of the relativity of existence."

At this point I ended my survey of the system of cosmoses from the point of view of the theory of many dimensions.

"There is a great deal of material in what you have just said," said G., "but this material must be elaborated. If you can find out how to elaborate the material that you have now, you will understand a great deal that has not occurred to you till now. For example, take note that time is different in different cosmoses. And it can be calculated exactly, that is, it is possible to establish exactly how time in one cosmos is related to the time of another cosmos.

"I will add only one thing more:

"Time is breath—try to understand this."

He said nothing further.

Later on one of G.'s Moscow pupils added to this that, speaking with them once of cosmoses and of different time in different cosmoses, G. had said that the sleep and waking of living beings and plants, that is, twenty-four hours or a day and night, constitute the "breath of organic life."

G.'s lecture on cosmoses and the talk following it greatly aroused my curiosity. This was a direct transition from the "three-dimensional universe" with which we had begun, to the problems which I had elaborated in the New Model of the Universe, that is, to the problems of space and time and higher dimensions, on which I had been working for several years.

For over a year G. added nothing to what he had said about cosmoses.

Several of us tried to approach these problems from many different sides and, although all of us felt a great deal of potential energy in the idea of cosmoses, for a long time we got no results. We were especially confused by the "Microcosmos."

"If it were possible to take man as the Microcosmos and the Tritocosmos as the human race, or rather as organic life, it would be much easier to establish the relation of man to other cosmoses," one of us, Z., said in this connection, who with me had attempted to understand and to develop further the idea of the cosmoses.

But on the one or two occasions that we began to speak to G. about it he persisted in his definitions.

I remember once when he was leaving Petersburg, it was possibly even his final departure in 1917, one of us asked him at the station something relating to cosmoses.

"Try to understand what the Microcosmos means," answered G. "If you succeed in understanding this, then all the rest about which you ask now will become clear to you."

I remember that when we talked about it later the question was quite easy to solve when we took the "Microcosmos" as man.

It was certainly conditional, but nevertheless it was in complete accord with the whole system which studied the world and man. Every individual living being—a dog, a cat, a tree—could be taken as a Microcosmos; the combination of all living beings constituted the Tritocosmos or organic life on earth. These definitions seemed to me the only ones that were logically possible. And I could not understand why G. objected to them.

At any rate, some time later when I returned again to the problem of cosmoses I decided to take man as the Microcosmos, and to take the Tritocosmos as organic life on earth.

With such a construction a great number of things began to be much more connected. And once, looking through a manuscript of "Glimpses of Truth" given me by G., that is, the beginning of the story that was read at the Moscow group the first time I went there, I found in it the expressions "Macrocosmos" and "Microcosmos"; moreover "Microcosmos" meant man.

Now you have some idea of the laws governing the life of the Macrocosmos and have returned to the Earth. Recall to yourself: "As above, so below." I think that already, without any further explanation, you will not dispute the statement that the life of individual man—the Microcosmos—is governed by the same laws.

—"Glimpses of Truth"

This still further strengthened us in our decision to understand "Microcosmos" as applying to man. Later it became clear to us why G. wished to make us apply the concept "Microcosmos" to small magnitudes as compared with man, and to what he wished to direct our thought by this.

I remember one conversation on this subject.

"If we want to represent graphically the interrelation of the cosmoses," I said, "we must take the Microcosmos, that is, man, as a point, that is to say, we must take him on a very small scale and, as it were, at a very great distance from ourselves. Then his life in the Tritocosmos, that is, among other people and in the midst of nature, will be the line which he traces on the surface of the earthly globe in moving from place to place. In the Mesocosmos, that is, taken in connection with the twenty-four hours' motion of the earth around its axis, this line will become a plane, whereas taken in relation to the sun, that is, taking into consideration the motion of the earth around the sun, it will become a three-

dimensional body, or, in other words, it will be something really existing, something realized. But as the fundamental point, that is, the man or the Microcosmos, was also a three-dimensional body, we have consequently two three-dimensionalities.

"In this case all the possibilities of man are actualized in the sun. This corresponds to what has been said before, namely, that man number seven becomes immortal within the limits of the solar system.

"Beyond the sun, that is, beyond the solar system, he has not and cannot have any existence, or in other words, from the point of view of the next cosmos he does not exist at all. A man does not exist at all in the Macrocosmos. The Macrocosmos is the cosmos in which the possibilities of the Tritocosmos are realized and man can exist in the Macrocosmos only as an atom of the Tritocosmos. The possibilities of the earth are actualized in the Megalocosmos and the possibilities of the sun are actualized in the Protocosmos.

"If the Microcosmos, or man, is a three-dimensional body, then the Tritocosmos— organic life on earth—is a four-dimensional body. The earth has five dimensions and the sun—six.

"The usual scientific view takes man as a three-dimensional body; it takes organic life on earth as a whole, more as a phenomenon than a three-dimensional body; it takes the earth as a three-dimensional body;

the sun as a three-dimensional body; the solar system as a three-dimensional body; and the Milky Way as a three-dimensional body.

"The inexactitude of this view becomes evident if we try to conceive the existence of one cosmos within the other, that is, of a lower cosmos in a higher, of a smaller cosmos in a greater, such as, for instance, the existence of man in organic life or in relation to organic life. In this case organic life must inevitably be taken in time. Existence in time is an extension along the fourth dimension.

"Neither can the earth be regarded as a three-dimensional body. It would be three- dimensional if it were stationary. Its motion around its axis makes man a five- dimensional being, whereas its motion around the sun makes the earth itself four- dimensional. The earth is not a sphere but a spiral encircling the sun, and the sun is not a sphere but a kind of spindle inside this spiral. The spiral and the spindle, taken together, must have a lateral motion in the next cosmos, but what results from this motion we cannot know, for we know neither the nature nor the direction of the motion.

"Further, seven cosmoses represent a 'period of dimensions,' but this does not mean that the chain of cosmoses comes to an end with the Microcosmos. If man is a Microcosmos, that is, a cosmos in himself, then the microscopic cells composing his body will stand towards him in about the same relation as he himself stands to organic life on earth. A microscopic cell which is on the boundary line of microscopic vision is com­posed of milliards of molecules comprising the next step, the next cosmos. Going still further, we can say that the next cosmos will be the electron. Thus we have obtained a second Microcosmos—the cell; a third Microcosmos—the molecule; and a fourth Microcosmos—the electron. These divisions and definitions, namely 'cells,' 'molecules,' and 'electrons,' are possibly very imperfect; it may be that with time science will establish others, but the principle will remain always the same and lower cosmoses will always be in precisely such relation to the Microcosmos."

It is difficult to reconstruct all the conversations which we had at that time about cosmoses.

I returned particularly often to G.'s words about the difference of time in different cosmoses. I felt that here was a riddle which I could and must solve.

Finally having decided to try to put together everything I thought on the subject, I took man as the Microcosmos. The next cosmos in relation to man I took as "organic life on earth," which I called "Tritocosmos" although I did not understand this name, because I would have been unable to answer the question why organic life on earth was the "third" cosmos. But the name is immaterial. After that everything was in ac­cordance with G.'s system. Below man, that is, as the next smaller cosmos, was the "cell." Not any cell and not a cell under any conditions, but a fairly large cell, such as for instance the embryo-cell of the human organism. As the next cosmos one could take a small, ultramicroscopic cell. The idea of two cosmoses in the microscopic world, that is, the idea of two microscopic individuals differing one from the other as much as does "man" from a "large cell," is perfectly clear in bacteriology.

The next cosmos was the molecule, and the next the electron. Neither "molecule" nor "electron" appeared to me to be very sound or reliable definitions, but for the lack of others these could be taken.

Such a succession undoubtedly introduced or maintained a complete incommensurability between the cosmoses, that is, it preserved the ratio of zero to infinity. And later this system made possible many very interesting constructions.

The idea of cosmoses received a further development only a year after we heard it for the first time, that is, in the spring of 1917, when I succeeded for the first time in constructing a "table of time in different cosmoses." But I will speak of this table further on. I will only add that G. never explained, as he promised, the names of the cosmoses and the origin of these names.

Chapter Eleven

"I AM often asked questions in connection with various texts, parables,

and so on, from the Gospels," said G., on one occasion. "In my opinion the time has not yet come for us to speak about the Gospels. This requires much more knowledge. But from time to time we will take certain Gospel texts as points of departure for our discussions. This will teach you to treat them in the right way, and, above all, to realize that in the texts known to us the most essential points are usually missing.

"To begin with, let us take the well-known text about the seed which must die in order to be born. 'Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone; but, if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit.'

"This text has many different meanings and we shall often return to it. But first of all it is necessary to know the principle contained in this text in its full measure as applied to man.

"There is a book of aphorisms which has never been published and probably never will be published. I have mentioned this book before in connection with the question of the meaning of knowledge and I quoted then one aphorism from this book.

"In relation to what we are speaking of now this book says the following:

" 'A man may be born, but in order to be born he must first die, and in order to die he must first awake.'

"In another place it says:

" 'When a man awakes he can die; when he dies he can be born.'

"We must find out what this means.

" 'To awake,' 'to die,' 'to be born.' These are three successive stages. If you study the Gospels attentively you will see that references are often made to the possibility of being born, several references are made to the necessity of 'dying,' and there are very many references to the necessity of 'awakening'—'watch, for ye know not the day and hour . . .' and. so on. But these three possibilities of man, to awake or not to sleep, to die, and to be born, are not set down in connection with one another. Nevertheless this is the whole point. If a man dies without having awakened he cannot be born. If a man is born without having died he may become an 'immortal thing.' Thus the fact that he has not 'died' prevents a man from being 'born'; the fact of his not having awakened prevents him from 'dying'; and should he be born without having died he is prevented from 'being.'

"We have already spoken enough about the meaning of being 'born.' This relates to the beginning of a new growth of essence, the beginning of the formation of individuality, the beginning of the appearance of one indivisible I.

"But in order to be able to attain this or at least begin to attain it, a man must die, that is, he must free himself from a thousand petty attachments and identifications which hold him in the position in which he is. He is attached to everything in his life, attached to his imagination, attached to his stupidity, attached even to his sufferings, possibly to his sufferings more than to anything else. He must free himself from this attachment. Attachment to things, identification with things, keep alive a thousand useless I's in a man. These I's must die in order that the big I may be born. But how can they be made to die? They do not want to die. It is at this point that the possibility of awakening comes to the rescue. To awaken means to realize one's nothingness, that is to realize one's complete and absolute mechanicalness and one's complete and absolute helplessness. And it is not sufficient to realize it philosophically in words. It is necessary to realize it in clear, simple, and concrete facts, in one's own facts. When a man begins to know himself a little he will see in himself many things that are bound to horrify him. So long as a man is not horrified at himself he knows nothing about himself. A man has seen in himself something that horrifies him. He decides to throw it off, stop it, put an end to it. But however many efforts he makes, he feels that he cannot do this, that everything remains as it was. Here he will see his impotence, his helplessness, and his nothingness; or again, when he begins to know himself a man sees that he has nothing that is his own, that is, that all that he has regarded as his own, his views, thoughts, convictions, tastes, habits, even faults and vices, all these are not his own, but have been either formed through imitation or borrowed from somewhere ready-made. In feeling this a man may feel his nothingness. And in feeling his nothingness a man should see himself as he really is, not for a second, not for a moment, but constantly, never forgetting it.

"This continual consciousness of his nothingness and of his helplessness will eventually give a man the courage to 'die,' that is, to die, not merely mentally or in his consciousness, but to die in fact and to renounce actually and forever those aspects of himself which are either unnecessary from the point of view of his inner growth or which hinder it. These aspects are first of all his 'false I,' and then all the fantastic ideas about his 'individuality,' 'will,' 'consciousness,' 'capacity to do,' his powers, initiative, determination, and so on.

"But in order to see a thing always, one must first of all see it even if

only for a second. All new powers and capacities of realization come always in one and the same way. At first they appear in the form of flashes at rare and short moments; afterwards they appear more often and last longer until, finally, after very long work they become permanent. The same thing applies to awakening. It is impossible to awaken completely all at once. One must first begin to awaken for short moments. But one must die all at once and forever after having made a certain effort, having surmounted a certain obstacle, having taken a certain decision from which there is no going back. This would be difficult, even impossible, for a man, were it not for the slow and gradual awakening which precedes it.