The whole of this momentous question turns on the place that we assign

to desire in our system of thought. Is it the Tree of Life in the midst

of the Garden of the Soul? or is it the Upas Tree creating a wilderness

of death all around? This is the issue on which we have to form a

judgment, and this judgment must colour all our conception of life and

determine the entire range of our possibilities. Let us, then, try to

picture to ourselves the ideal proposed by the systems to which I have

alluded--a man who has succeeded in entirely annihilating all desire. To

him all things must be alike. The good and the evil must be as one, for

nothing has any longer the power to raise any desire in him; he has no

longer any feeling which shall prompt him to say, "This is good,

therefore I choose it; that is evil, therefore I reject it"; for all

choice implies the perception of something more desirable in what is

chosen than in what is rejected, and consequently the existence of that

feeling of desire which has been entirely eliminated from the ideal we

are contemplating.

Then, if the perception of all that makes one thing preferable to

another has been obliterated, there can be no motive for any sort of

action whatever. Endue a being who has thus extinguished his faculty of

desire with the power to create a universe, and he has no motive for

employing it. Endue him with all knowledge, and it will be useless to

him; for, since desire has no place in him, he is without any purpose

for which to turn his knowledge to account. And with Love we cannot

endue him, for that is desire in its supreme degree. But if all this be

excluded, what is left of the man? Nothing, except the mere outward

form. If he has actually obtained this ideal, he has practically ceased

to be. Nothing can by any means interest him, for there is nothing to

attract or repel in one thing more than in another. He must be dead

alike to all feeling and to all motive of action, for both feeling and

action imply the preference for one condition rather than another; and

where desire is utterly extinguished, no such preference can exist.

No doubt some one may object that it is only evil desires which are thus

to be suppressed; but a perusal of the writings of the schools of

thought in question will show that this is not the case. The foundation

of the whole system is that _all_ desire must be obliterated, the desire

for the good just as much as the desire for the evil. The good is as

much "illusion" as the evil, and until we have reached absolute

indifference to both we have not attained freedom. When we have utterly

crushed out _all_ desire we are free. And the practical results of such

a philosophy are shown in the case of Indian devotees, who, in pursuance

of their resolve to crush out _all_ desire, both for good and evil

alike, become nothing more than outward images of men, from which all

power of perception and of action have long since fled.

The mergence in the universal, at which they thus aim, becomes nothing

more than a self-induced hypnotism, which, if maintained for a

sufficient length of time, saps away every power of mental and bodily

activity, leaving nothing but the outside husk of an attenuated human

form--the hopeless wreck of what was once a living man. This is the

logical result of a system which assumes for its starting-point that

desire is evil in itself, that every desire is _per se_ a form of

bondage, independently of the nature of its object. The majority of the

followers of this philosophy may lack sufficient resolution to carry it

out rigorously to its practical conclusions; but whether their ideal is

to be realised in this world or in some other, the utter extinction of

desire means nothing else than absolute apathy, without feeling and

without action.

How entirely false such an idea is--not only from the standpoint of our

daily life, but also from that of the most transcendental conception of

the Universal Principle--is evidenced by the mere fact that anything

exists at all. If the highest ideal is that of utter apathy, then the

Creative Power of the universe must be extremely low-minded; and all

that we have hitherto been accustomed to look upon as the marvellous

order and beauty of creation, is nothing but a display of vulgarity and

ignorance of sound philosophy.

But the fact that creation exists proves that the Universal Mind thinks

differently, and we have only to look around to see that the true ideal

is the exercise of creative power. Hence, so far from desire being a

thing to be annihilated, it is the very root of every conceivable mode

of Life. Without it Life could not be. Every form of expression implies

the selection of all that goes to make up that form, and the passing-by

of whatever is not required for that purpose; hence a desire for that

which is selected in preference to what is laid aside. And this

selective desire is none other than the universal Law of Attraction.

Whether this law acts as the chemical affinity of apparently unconscious

atoms, or in the instinctive, if unreasoned, attractions of the

vegetable and animal worlds, it is still the principle of selective

affinity; and it continues to be the same when it passes on into the

higher kingdoms which are ruled by reason and conscious purpose. The

modes of activity in each of these kingdoms are dictated by the nature

of the kingdom; but the activity itself always results from the

preference of a certain subject for a certain object, to the exclusion

of all others; and all action consists in the reciprocal movement of the

two towards each other in obedience to the law of their affinity.

When this takes place in the kingdom of conscious individuality, the

affinities exhibit themselves as mental action; but the principle of

selection prevails without exception throughout the universe. In the

conscious mind this attraction towards its affinity becomes desire; the

desire to create some condition of things better than that now existing.

Our want of knowledge may cause us to make mistakes as to what this

better thing really is, and so in seeking to carry out our desire we may

give it a wrong direction; but the fault is not in the desire itself,

but in our mistaken notion of what it is that it requires for its

satisfaction. Hence unrest and dissatisfaction until its true affinity

is found; but, as soon as this is discovered, the law of attraction at

once asserts itself and produces that better condition, the dream of

which first gave direction to our thoughts.

Thus it is eternally true that desire is the cause of all feeling and

all action; in other words, of all Life. The whole livingness of Life

consists in receiving or in radiating forth the vibrations produced by

the law of attraction; and in the kingdom of mind these vibrations

necessarily become conscious out-reachings of the mind in the direction

in which it feels attraction; that is to say, they become desires.

Desire is therefore the mind seeking to manifest itself in some form

which as yet exists only in its thought. It is the principle of

creation, whether the thing created be a world or a wooden spoon; both

have their origin in the desire to bring something into existence which

does not yet exist. Whatever may be the scale on which we exercise our

creative ability, the motive power must always be desire.

Desire is the force behind all things; it is the moving principle of

the universe and the innermost centre of all Life. Hence, to take the

negation of desire for our primal principle is to endeavour to stamp out

Life itself; but what we have to do is to acquire the requisite

knowledge by which to guide our desires to their true objects of

satisfaction. To do this is the whole end of knowledge; and any

knowledge applied otherwise is only a partial knowledge, which, having

failed in its purpose, is nothing but ignorance. Desire is thus the

sum-total of the livingness of Life, for it is that in which all

movement originates, whether on the physical level or the spiritual. In

a word, desire is the creative power, and must be carefully guarded,

trained, and directed accordingly; but thus to seek to develop it to the

highest perfection is the very opposite of trying to kill it outright.

And desire has fulfilment for its correlative. The desire and its

fulfilment are bound together as cause and effect; and when we realise

the law of their sequence, we shall be more than ever impressed with the

supreme importance of Desire as the great centre of Life.

IX

TOUCHING LIGHTLY

What is our point of support? Is it in ourselves or outside us? Are we

self-poised, or does our balance depend on something external? According

to the actual belief in which our answer to these questions is embodied

so will our lives be. In everything there are two parts, the essential

and the incidental--that which is the nucleus and _raison d'être_ of the

whole thing, and that which gathers round this nucleus and takes form

from it. The true knowledge always consists in distinguishing these two

from each other, and error always consists in misplacing them.

In all our affairs there are two factors, ourselves and the matter to be

dealt with; and since _for us_ the nature of anything is always

determined by our thought of it, it is entirely a question of our belief

which of these two factors shall be the essential and which the

accessory. Whichever we regard as the essential, the other at once

becomes the incidental. The incidental can never be absent. For any sort

of action to take place there must be _some_ conditions under which the

activity passes out into visible results; but the same sort of activity

may occur under a variety of different conditions, and may thus produce

very different visible results. So in every matter we shall always find

an essential or energising factor, and an incidental factor which

derives its quality from the nature of the energy.

We can therefore never escape from having to select our essential and

our incidental factor, and whichever we select as the essential, we

thereby place the other in the position of the incidental. If, then, we

make the mistake of reversing the true position and suppose that the

energising force comes from the merely accessory circumstances, we make

_them_ our point of support and lean upon _them_, and stand or fall with

them accordingly; and so we come into a condition of weakness and

obsequious waiting on all sorts of external influences, which is the

very reverse of that strength, wisdom, and opulence which are the only

meaning of Liberty.

But if we would ask ourselves the common-sense question Where can the

centre of a man's Life be except in himself? we shall see that in all

which pertains to us the energising centre must be in ourselves. We can

never get away from ourselves as the centre of our own universe, and the

sooner we clearly understand this the better. There is really no energy

in _our_ universe but what emanates from ourselves in the first

instance, and the power which appears to reside in our surroundings is

derived entirely from our own mind.

If once we realise this, and consider that the Life which flows into us

from the Universal Life-Principle is at every moment _new_ Life entirely

undifferentiated to any particular purpose besides that of supporting

our own individuality, and that it is therefore ours to externalise in

any form we will, then we find that this manifestation of the eternal

Life-Principle _in ourselves_ is the standpoint from which we can

control our surroundings. We must lean firmly on the central point of

our own being and not on anything else. Our mistake is in taking our

surroundings too much "_au grand serieux_." We should touch things more

lightly. As soon as we feel that their weight impedes our free handling

of them they are mastering us, and not we them.

Light handling does not mean weak handling. On the contrary, lightness

of touch is incompatible with a weak grasp of the instrument, which

implies that the weight of the tool is excessive relatively to the force

that seeks to guide it. A light, even playful handling, therefore

implies a firm grasp and perfect control over the instrument. It is only

in the hands of a Grinling Gibbons that the carving tool can create

miracles of aerial lightness from the solid wood. The light yet firm

touch tells not of weakness, but of power held in reserve; and if we

realise our own out-and-out spiritual nature we know that behind any

measure of power we may put forth there is the whole reserve of the

infinite to back us up.

As we come to know this we begin to handle things lightly, playing with

them as a juggler does with his flying knives, which cannot make the

slightest movement other than he has assigned to them, for we begin to

see that our control over things is part of the necessary order of the

universe. The disorder we have met with in the past has resulted

precisely from our never having attempted consciously to introduce this

element of our personal control as part of the system.

Of course, I speak of the _whole_ man, and not merely of that part of

him which Walt Whitman says is contained between his hat and his boots.

The _whole_ man is an infinitude, and the visible portion of him is the

instrument through which he looks out upon and enjoys all that belongs

to him, his own kingdom of the infinite. And when he learns that this is

the meaning of his conscious individuality, he sees _how_ it is that he

is infinite, and finds that he is one with Infinite Mind, which is the

innermost core of the universe. Having thus reached the true centre of

his own being, he can never give this central place to anything else,

but will realise that relatively to this all other things are in the

position of the incidental and accessory, and growing, daily in this

knowledge he will learn so to handle all things lightly, yet firmly,

that grief, fear, and error will have less and less space in his world,

until at last sorrow and sighing shall flee away, and everlasting joy

shall take their place. We may have taken only a few steps on the way as

yet, but they are in the right direction, and what we have to do now is

to go on.

X

PRESENT TRUTH

If Thought power is good for anything it is good for everything. If it

can produce one thing it can produce all things. For what is to hinder

it? Nothing can stop us from thinking. We can _think_ what we please,

and if to think is to form, then we can form what we please. The whole

question, therefore, resolves itself into this: Is it true that to think

is to form? If so, do we not see that our limitations are formed in

precisely the same way as our expansions? We think that conditions

outside our thought have power over us, and so we think power into them.

So the great question of life is whether there is any _other_ creative

power than Thought. If so, where is it, and what is it?

Both philosophy and religion lead us to the truth that "in the

beginning" there was no other creative power than Spirit, and the only

mode of activity we can possibly attribute to Spirit is Thought, and so

we find Thought as the root of all things. And if this was the case "in

the beginning" it must be so still; for if all things originate in

Thought, all things must be modes of Thought, and so it is impossible

for Spirit ever to hand over its creations to some power which is not

itself--that is to say, which is not Thought-power; and consequently all

the forms and circumstances that surround us are manifestations of the

creative power of Thought.

But it may be objected that this is God's Thought; and that the creative

power is in God and not Man. But this goes away from the self-evident

axiomatic truth that "in the beginning" nothing could have had any

origin except Thought. It is quite true that nothing has any origin

except in the Divine Mind, and Man himself is therefore a mode of the

Divine Thought. Again, Man is self-conscious; therefore Man is the

Divine Thought evolved into _individual_ consciousness, and when he

becomes sufficiently enlightened to realise this as his origin, then he

sees that he is a reproduction _in individuality_ of the _same_ spirit

which produces all things, and that his own thought in individuality has

exactly the same quality as the Divine Thought in universality, just as

fire is equally igneous whether burning round a large centre of

combustion or a small one, and thus we are logically brought to the

conclusion that our thought must have creative power.

But people say, "We have not found it so. We are surrounded by all sorts

of circumstances that we do not desire." Yes, you _fear_ them, and in so

doing you _think_ them; and in this way you are constantly exercising

this Divine prerogative of creation by Thought, only through ignorance

you use it in a wrong direction. Therefore the Book of Divine

Instructions so constantly repeats "Fear not; doubt not," because we can

never divest our Thought of its inherent creative quality, and the only

question is whether we shall use it ignorantly to our injury or

understandingly to our benefit.

The Master summed up his teaching in the aphorism that knowledge of the

Truth would make us free. Here is no announcement of anything we have to

do, or of anything that has to be done for us, in order to gain our

liberty, neither is it a statement of anything _future_. Truth _is_ what

is. He did not say, you must wait till something becomes true which is

not true _now_. He said: "Know what _is_ Truth now, and you will find

that the Truth concerning yourself is Liberty." If the knowledge of

Truth makes us free it can only be because in truth we are free already,

only we do not know it.

Our liberty consists in our reproducing on the scale of the individual

the same creative power of Thought which first brought the world into

existence, "so that the things which are seen were not made of things

which do appear." Let us, then, confidently claim our birthright as

"sons and daughters of the Almighty," and by habitually thinking the

good, the beautiful, and the true, surround ourselves with conditions

corresponding to our thoughts, and by our teaching and example help

others to do the same.

XI

YOURSELF

I want to talk to you about the livingness there is in being yourself.

It has at least the merit of simplicity, for it must surely be easier to

be oneself than to be something or somebody else. Yet that is what so

many are constantly trying to do; the self that is their own is not good

enough for them, and so they are always trying to go one better than

what God has made them, with endless strain and struggle as the

consequence. Of course, they are right to put before them an ideal

infinitely grander than anything they have yet attained--the only

possible way of progress is by following an ideal that is always a stage

ahead of us--but the mistake is in not seeing that its attainment is a

matter of growth, and that growth must be the expansion of something

that already exists in us, and therefore implies our being what we are

and where we are as its starting point. This growth is a continuous

process, and we cannot do next month's growth without first doing this

month's; but we are always wanting to jump into some ideal of the

future, not seeing that we can reach it only by steadily going on from

where we are now.

These considerations should make us more confident and more comfortable.

We are employing a force which is much greater than we believe ourselves

to be, yet it is not separate from us and needing to be persuaded or

compelled, or inveigled into doing what we want; it is the substratum of

our own being which is continually passing up into manifestation on the

visible plane and becoming that personal self to which we often limit

our attention without considering whence it proceeds. But in truth the

outer self is the surface growth of that individuality which lies

concealed far down in the deeps below, and which is none other than the

Spirit-of-Life which underlies all forms of manifestation.

Endeavour to realise what this Spirit must be in itself--that is to say,

apart from any of the conditions that arise from the various relations

which necessarily establish themselves between its various forms of

individualisation. In its homogeneous self what else can it be but pure

life--Essence-of-Life, if you like so to call it? Then realise that as

Essence-of-Life it exists in the innermost of _every one_ of its forms

of manifestation in as perfect simplicity as any we can attribute to it

in our most abstract conceptions. In this light we see it to be the

eternally self-generating power which, to express itself, flows into

form.

This universal Essence-of-Life is a continual becoming (into form), and

since we are a part of Nature we do not need to go further than

ourselves to find the life-giving energy at work with all its powers.

Hence all we have to do is to allow it to rise to the surface. We do not

have to _make_ it rise any more than the engineer who sinks the

bore-pipe for an artesian well has to make the water rise in it; the

water does that by its own energy, springing as a fountain a hundred

feet into the air. Just so we shall find a fountain of Essence-of-Life

ready to spring up in ourselves, inexhaustible and continually

increasing in its flow, as One taught long ago to a woman at a wayside

well.

This up-springing of Life-Essence is not another's--it is our own. It

does not require deep studies, hard labours, weary journeyings to attain

it; it is not the monopoly of this teacher or that writer, whose

lectures we must attend or whose books we must read to get it. It is the

innermost of _ourselves_, and a little common-sense thought as to how

anything comes to be anything will soon convince us that the great

inexhaustible life must be the very root and substance of us, permeating

every fibre of our being.

Surely to be this vast infinitude of living power must be enough to

satisfy all our desires, and yet this wonderful ideal is nothing else

but what we already are _in principio_--it is all there in ourselves

now, only awaiting our recognition for its manifestation. It is not the

Essence-of-Life which has to grow, for that is eternally perfect in

itself; but it is our recognition of it that has to grow, and this

growth cannot be forced. It must come by a natural process, the first

necessity of which is to abstain from all straining after being

something which at the present time we cannot naturally be. The Law of

our Evolution has put us in possession of certain powers and

opportunities, and our further development depends on our doing just

what these powers and opportunities make it possible for us to do, here

and now.

If we do what we are able to do to-day, it will open the way for us to

do something better to-morrow, and in this manner the growing process

will proceed healthily and happily in a rapidly increasing ratio. This

is so much easier than striving to compel things to be what they are

not, and it is also so much more fruitful in good results. It is not

sitting still doing nothing, and there is plenty of room for the

exercise of all our mental faculties, but these faculties are themselves

the outcome of the Essence-of-Life, and are not the creating power, but

only that which gives direction to it Now it is this moving power at the

back of the various faculties that is the true innermost self; and if we

realise the identity between the innermost and the outermost, we shall

see that we therefore have at our present disposal all that is necessary

for our unlimited development in the future.

Thus our livingness consists simply in being ourselves, only more so;

and in recognising this we get rid of a great burden of unnecessary

straining and striving, and the place of the old _sturm und drang_ will

be taken, not by inertia, but by a joyous activity which knows that it

always has the requisite power to manifest itself in forms of good and

beauty. What matters it whither this leads us? If we are following the

line of the beautiful and good, then we shall produce the beautiful and

good, and thus bring increasing joy into the world, whatever particular

form it may assume.

The Hidden Power, and Other Papers upon Mental Science · 第 5 / 12 段