Volume 4, Issue 2, page 6

which is far and away beyond intelligence,
reason, knowledge. Let us seek His meaning,
for in it lie all the answers which make us
divine when we have learned them. Little
children are natural. They have not yet
covered their bodies, minds, souls, spirits
over with habits, under which Creation itself threatens to be lost. They are. They
know they are, and largely they have ideas
of why, long before they start prefacing
every question with what parents come to
believe is the unanswerable word: Why? They
cannot say, but their bodies know.

That which the body, or any infinitesimal part of it, knows may be recovered. How
it may be done is no secret, the habits and
attitudes make it more difficult with the
passing years. Man looks inward, where his
God- self resides, and peers at himself,
asks himself questions about himself. The
answers are there within him if he will ask.
The asking takes courage, or man believes
that it does. Actually, the unspoken decision not to ask requires more courage, for
not to ask is to spurn wisdom. It is the
daily habit of man to spurn wisdom, or to
regard his seeking as much too difficult,
and largely unnecessary.

The child, from the moment of birth to
the age of seven (five or six with some,
eight or nine with others, younger still or
older still), becomes more aware than he
will, if he follows racial habits, during
all the rest of his life. Habits strike the
child when he falls into the ways of his
people, which happens when he is old enough
to mould himself after the manners, or the
expressed desires, of his parents, who may
in turn be advised constantly by relatives,
friends, neighbors -- all of them people who
"conform ; a way of saying that they seek
not to think or, thinking, to be unaware
that they think. They close the eyes of
their minds to thought because this seems
easier. Nothing is more tiring than awareness undesired; it makes too many endless

Yet man, to know himself in the world,
and in the Father, must eventually know
himself within. All of his "naturalness"
knows, records, but man evades the effort
of knowing that he knows, of looking at his
own records of himself.

Yet the most thoughtless man has his moments; moments of nostalgia, of deep feeling which may seem only slightly akin to
thinking, moments of what he may call moodiness in which he feels that somewhere
there is something, perhaps some Body,
wherein his moods may be filled with peace
and comfort -- if only he can locate the
place or the nebulous Person.

That place, that Person, are susceptible
to location, identification, knowing. That
knowing is required of man, that he knows
himself thereby.

But man, in spite of this requirement,
is a free-will creature, i.e., a product of
the Creator, as far as he knows the most
advanced of creatures. That other creatures
may feel this way of themselves is possible. Man does not know, since his means of
communication with what he is pleased to
call the "lower kingdoms" is virtually nil;
so he thinks, believes, and largely acts
upon, save for some few individuals of the
MI A 1\
species who know and understand the "lower
kingdoms": mineral, vegetable, animal. It
is quite possible that man is known much
better by the lower kingdoms than he knows
any segment of those kingdoms. This may
well be because man knows, wttttngly, so
little about himself, and so often finds
the most fascinating study available to
him beyond his willing reach.

Man can know every mineral.

Man can know every plant.

Man can know every animal.

Each individual of every kingdom, known
and unknown to man, is a symbiont of man ;
yes, even tho it dwell in the depths of the
seas. In the memory of his body man can
find his contacts, know them, and thereby
know himself. How?
Take a rock, a flower, a precious stone,
a pearl, a plant, a fruit -- take anything
the reader remembers, or knows about, or
has seen, and subject it to the tests of
the senses. Taste it, if it is susceptible
to taste; smell it if it possess fragrance;
listen to it if it speaks in any manner;
feel it with the emotions and the hands, or
with any part of the body; study it with
the eyes. If all senses, all known senses,
tell the student:
"I have not known this before," there is
yet memory, memory which prods, coerces,
inspires. Man knows that there is something,
some thing, in whatever it is, that he
should know. It will nag him until he knows,
for it is certainly part of his body's memory. Give it time and it will whisper some
small part of its truth to man. Once the
smallest part is vouchsafed, all of its
truth is available, tho man require eternity to attain it all and know it attained.
But man has eternity, if he wills it, and
has always had it.
"Ask and ye shall receive."
Ask of the snowflake to declare itself,
and it will obey, for mind is the builder.
Divine mind is the creator of all, and man's
mind is a fragment of the divine so that by
it he shall know all that he wills. But he
must will it -- desire it and will it. Deep
desire is the grandest, most effective form
of prayer.

Ask of the pebble that it tell whence it
came, and it will tell, for it is part of
man's past. Pebbles, all manner of stones,
have given of their secrets to the paleontologist, but these were material secrets,
and the rocks of-the earth are its foundations, which were set in place by the Father in ways that He has told all His creatures, if only they remember. Hold a pebble
and the pebble will whisper, too softly for
the material ear to hear:
"You'll remember me. Take your time and
recall. Or be very still, and truly desire
understanding, and I shall tell you. I
shall tell you in my own way, but you can
remember that way, for some of it, even today, is your way, and ages ago all of it
was your way!"
Touch a tree and the tree whispers --
whispers that are not of the leaves in the
wind, the limbs caressing one another, the
sap chortling thru the cambium layer:
"You will recall, if you desire, the
ages you stood here with me, and I held my
branches over you to shield you from terrors
MAY_ 1957