The one way

Front matter

Class.

Book____

GopyiigM

Introduction

THIS book must be its own justification — should it prove of value to anyone let him receive the message. I make no claims that will convince the skeptical. I myself know that I did not write it alone. Yet I am quite aware that my conviction that it is a genuine message received by means of automatic writing will have no weight for the general public; nevertheless, for those to whom it is of interest, it may be best for me to make a statement of how I happened to commence the undertaking. I have never even seen a ouija board or planchette. Prior to November, 1919, I only remember one occasion on which I ever tipped a table. About the year 1894, in a mixed company in a boarding house, we succeeded in getting some one who acknowledged to being bad, and then proved to be the father of a young woman, dressed in deep mourning, whose great agitation broke up the seance. This served to increase my general belief that if tables could really be tipped it was only done by evil spirits. With them I wished to have no trafficking.

It so happened I had never read a book by William James — this summer I have purposely avoided doing so. Since The One Way was completed, two persons who have read the manuscript have said that it did not seem at all like Mr. William James.

For me, it would rob Eternity of much of the beauty

and joy that I anticipate, if we are to remain exactly

what we are when we leave this world. Ten years

of travel and adventure can change a man's whole point of view in this world, and I feel that Mr. William James might have changed a great deal in ten years in Eternity.

In case the language of this book seems so unlike his old style as to preclude the idea of his having dictated the book, let me explain that I am convinced that he dictates the idea to my mind, and he does not dictate each word or sentence.

My mother, who was the most joyous Christian I have ever known, was also an inveterate traveler, who took the greatest delight in new places, and when she knew she was going on a journey entered into all the plans with the keenest zest. From her I learned to take a most intense interest in heaven in exactly that same spirit of a traveler. She read aloud to me "The Land of Darkness" and the "The Land of Suspense," by Mrs. Oliphant. I read by myself the rest of the stories of the Seen and Unseen, by the same author. Many years later, after the death of my husband, these stories were of intense interest and comfort to me. I devoured them, and then reread them. When a little later a friend gave me a little book called Letters from Julia, purporting to be written by a dead woman to a living friend, I found the idea very repulsive. Yet now I am inclined to believe that those stories of Mrs. Oliphant's were done by automatic writing. What is said of the extreme rapidity with which she sometimes wrote, favors that view. She says in her biography: "These stories are not like others. I can only produce them when they come to me." And in regard to "The Land of Suspense/' she says, "I think it came to me from them." Some time during the last two years, after reading some book which claimed to be written automatically and which interested me very much, I said to my son, "Well, whichever of us dies first, if automatic writing is in accordance with God's will, we will do it." I do not remember that he made any rejoinder — certainly he betrayed no special interest.

In November, 19 19, 1 was away from home for a couple of days. When I returned, my son said: "I don't know what you will say when you know what we did while you were gone. We tipped the table." I think he expected me to express strong disapproval. I did not either feel or express any disapproval.

Shortly after that, a cousin, Miss P., was staying with us, who has always been very successful in tipping tables. An acquaintance happened in to supper, and we four tipped the table. This last lady had no knowledge or experience in the matter; she only half believed, and her curiosity was roused. When she left, I said I believe that there is only one right way to do this, and that is to use the name of Jesus Christ, and say that we, being sworn servants of God, will have nothing to do with mischievous spirits; and that if tipping tables is contrary to the will of God we will have nothing whatever to do with it. We found repeatedly that when the table began tipping — and knocking clearly to say — "In the name of Jesus Christ I forbid any interference from mischievous spirits," stopped it dead. On the other hand, we found that sometimes the table assented very vigorously, and twice we got a reasonable communication.

In this Introduction I have given such part of the communications I have received from my husband and son as seemed of general interest. My son died in April, after an illness of many months, during which time I knew, that so far as human knowledge and skill went, there was absolutely no hope. Near the end of May I read Private Dozvding, by Tudor Pole. On June 5th, while reading The Abolishing of Death, by Basil King, I felt that I could try to write. I sat down in the dark, holding the pencil so lightly that I scarcely touched it, and holding my arm free above the table, I got in the faintest writing, and with a great sense of effort, "Mother, mother. Mother, I love you. I have been with God all the time. Father loves you every minute of the time." Then, for the first time, the pencil wrote my name — which has since then become the way my husband always addresses me — "J — — , you are to teach — God will show you. God has a plan. Be content."

I wish it were possible to describe the peace that that "Be content" brought me.

June 6th. Taken in the dark. "Mother — Mother, I am Phil."

{Can I ask a question?) 1

"Yes."

{Have you been waiting to try and get me?)

{Could you call me?)

"No, not yet. Be content. Good night." (Obviously this might be just my subconscious mind directing my pencil, but when one has experienced the sensation of the pencil being controlled, that idea gives no explanation of the peculiar manner of writing. It is not my intention to argue or try to convince anyone. If there is a message for me to deliver, all that I have to do is to give it faithfully. You will see from what follows that I acknowledge my doubts — I give them in full, perhaps in tiresome detail,

Throughout this book the italics denote that Mrs. Burke is speaking.

because there are certain persons to whom these technical details are important.)

June 9th, 8.30 p.m. "Mother, Mother, I am Phil."

(Do you understand that I only want to do God's will?)

"Yes."

(Would it be letter if I did not try to write?)

(Do I disturb you by sitting down with the -pencil?)

"No. God bless you. Good-night."

"J , God blss— "

"Mother, you are no mother."

(This last seemed puzzling. It is impossible to convey the sense of varying personalities.)

June nth, 8.30 p.m. "Mother, Mother. Yes. Tom will pass his exams." "Mother, Mother, I am Phil. God blss you. Good night."

"J , I don't want you to write."

(Who are you?)

"N ." (My husband's nickname incorrectly spelled.)

(Is it because I am tired you don't want me to write?)

"Yes."

(Taken in semidark, I could not see the writing, but I could see my hand. I seem to feel or know beforehand what word I am going to write. It might all come from my subconscious mind — but the method of writing is queer. To-night I intentionally took control of the pencil and finished one letter, and then it was a good many seconds before the writing began again.)

June 14th, 1.50 p.m. "Mother, Mother. Yes, yes."

(What did father mean when he told me not to write?)

"That you were tired. Yes. Yes."

(Are you saying " Yes, Yes" meaning it is you?)

"Yes. Mother, we want you to learn how to write.

You must practise every day, then we can talk all the time."

{In the name of Jesus Christ, the Saviour of the World, we will only write according to God's will.)

"Yes, that is understood."

{Are you happy?)

"Mother, Mother, God is love. Yes, yes. Get the big paper." (This was in reference to my thought of buying wall paper such as Margaret Cameron said in The Seven Purposes that she used.) "You are no mother — Mother, Mother, Mother—"

{Did you mean to write "You are no mother?") "My — my Mother, Mother Mother Mother."

"J , go out to drive now."

(I seem to know in my mind what word is going to be written — that might be my subconscious mind, but Phil and Jay write so differently. I have laughed aloud with joy at the latter's characteristic tone.)

June 15th, 7 p.m. "Mother, Mother yes yes."

{Have you heard all the things I have been thinking in the garden?)

{Has Father?)

"Yes."

{Why?)

"Because you were thinking to him."

{If I think questions to Father, cant you read my mind?)

"No, Mother."

{Is it hard for you to write anything besides Mother?)

"Yes" — very strongly written.

(Then occurred a change of writing. It was, as I have since learned, an interference.) Then Mother, twelve times over and in much more powerful and free writing.

This seemed to me to be just a practice of writing with my hand — then enormous circles made like lightning, and very strongly.

{What does that mean?)

"J°y> J°y> J°y" (written nine times). "Mother, I adore you. Mother, do you know I am Philip? Yes yes yes" — nine times. "Mother, I love you" — four times.

(Do you like to write this way, Phil?)" Mother, I love to write with your hand."

(Phil, you know I can't help doubting a little when I know in my mind what the pencil is going to write; explain if you can.)

"Mother, I can't explain that. Mother, you must buy plenty of soft pencils for writing." (/ must here have taken control of the pencil, for he wrote — ) "Don't you write, Mother; it interrupts me."

(You don't cross is or dot i's.)

"No, I can't; Mother Mother. Yes Yes."

(Can you write out what it is to which you write " Yes Yes?") (The only reply was:)

"Mother Mother Yes, yes, yes, Mother."

(Why does father stop me all the time?)

"Because at present it is not good for you to write much."

(Is Father there?)

"Yes."

(Can I ask him a question?)

"Yes."

(Who are you?)

"J — — , I am your husband."

(Does our son understand about your not wanting me to write?)

"Yes."

io The One Way

{Will you please give me directions not only for to-night?)

"J , you are to teach and you must get rested —

practise your exercises and keep out of doors all that is possible."

(N , of course it is very exciting to feel that you and Phil

can write with my hand. I cant help feeling as if you were waiting, trying to communicate if I don't try.)

"God has important work for you to do, and you must rest first."

(How shall I know when I may write again?)

" Mother, Mother, Mother. Father wants you to rest and I am so happy here I understand."

(Do you want me not to write again till I get to ?)

"Yes, J , not till you get to . God bless you

and Tom. . . ."

(Then came Joy circles.)

(What does that mean?)

"That means joy for all Eternity."

(N , why do I know in my mind beforehand what the

pencil will write?)

"I can't explain until later. . . ."

(God keep you, my son.)

"Mother, God does keep me, and I am so happy, only I want you to be happy, too. . . . Mother, God bless you and Tom all the time."

"J . . . Good night. Bless you now and always."

After writing the above I wrote a letter to Tom, and I felt that my pencil was controlled, and I wrote excessively rapidly, but I said what I wanted to to Tom, not what some one else wanted; then I thought I would try to write down a thought that has been constantly in my mind lately. I began, and I wrote faster than I ever wrote in my life, the following:

The One Way n

June 15th, 7.45 p.m. "Truth, not what you consider the truth, or what I consider the truth, but God's eternal verity, has in it such inherent power that when a man touches it, at any point, he is overwhelmed by the strength of the Truth, and that is one reason why men who are studying Science feel unable to grasp religious truth. It is only that the minds of most men are so finite that they cannot grasp more than one small aspect of truth and that one atom of God's eternal truth is so overwhelmingly true that they feel 'I have found truth' 'this is truth,' and that blinds them to all sorts of other aspects of truth. You can put your hand before your eyes and blot out the widest landscape yet the landscape is there all the time, only you don't see it. Don't think because you have found one atom of truth that you have found it all, and don't be afraid of the Truth wherever you find it."

{Who are you?)

"I am not your husband but I have to get a chance to speak through you. My name is William James, of Cambridge, Massachusetts, U. S. A.; the man who thought he knew a lot while he was on earth, and now that he has learned a little he wants to tell the people on earth through you. But you must rest now, God bless you. You have got a tremendous work to do for God and his children."

{My husband told me to go to bed and that I must rest first.)

"Your husband is right; don't you write another page of automatic writing for him, or for me, until after you

get to . You go buy about fifteen rolls of the best

paper, wall paper at 's, on Street, pay 30 cents

a roll for it, and don't be afraid about the money for that or anything else about this work, for God will provide the money; and now you go to bed, and God bless you."

The sensation of this writing was intensely exciting.

Between four and five in the morning of June 16th I woke with the pulses in my head beating as if they would burst. I have since realized that the sensations with which I awoke were such as have frequently been described by those who saw or perceived some supernatural being- I at once took up the pencil, which wrote:

"J , you are too excited. I want you to go to

sleep. Give me your hands. It is just as actual as that day fourteen years ago at the hospital." (This referred to a time when I was very ill and intensely nervous, and he made me go to sleep.) "Yield yourself to me. I am your husband. I love you with all my heart and soul. You are mine, and belong to me forever and ever. Now lie still and I will hold your hands, and God will put you

to sleep." (When N writes God's name he pauses,

and writes so slowly that it brings an indescribable sense of God's nearness, and such reverence.)

June 16th, 9.45 a.m. (After certain directions about

resting, I got): "J , go out of doors and enjoy God

works alone with him."

(Do you mean dont go to see Mrs. W. — a friend?)

"Yes, go now quick, don't keep asking questions — do what I tell you. Obey. God bless you."

June 1 6th, 7.35 p.m. "J , you cannot realize the

importance of the work you are to do and you must be rested first."

June 17th, 7.45. "J ■, you are not keeping your

promise; don't take up the pencil unless you are in very great need of my help, turn to God. I will be helping all the time. You must be rested and don't hesitate to spend the money to make proper arrangements about your clothes for the summer. Wear white all the time and don't you wear crepe."

On June 17th my husband told me that I was not keeping my promise. I did not quite realize that I had made a promise and that it meant I was not to touch a pencil

with "intent of automatic writing" till I reached .

But I now appreciate that this period of enforced quiet will prove of the greatest possible benefit to me — because through it I am realizing that the highest spiritual interpretation is the only one I can follow in this work. At first it seemed more than I could bear not to try to write. The intense sense of my husband's personality (and my son's) and the extraordinary change not only of writing, but of personality, when William James began to write, are all that I have as proof, and I am quite well aware that that is proof only to me — but to me the proof is so complete that I can hardly contain myself for joy. 1 As my husband has spoken of work of great importance and teaching, and as W. J. ordered me to buy so much paper, I naturally suppose that I am to write a book. It may be worth noting as an evidence of my conviction that I instantly obeyed W. J., a complete stranger's, direction, not to consider money in regard to this work, and have planned to spend money in a variety of ways I should never have dreamed it right for me to do, and to alter my summer arrangements, that I may be wholly untrammeled for the work. I obeyed my husband at once, about my clothes. I mean now to wear white and to discard crepe entirely.

On Friday, June 18th, the story of a great tragedy was told me, and I was emotionally very deeply stirred, so that I scarcely felt as if I knew what I was doing. I knew

1 The sense of excitement was at this time so intense that I feel that I could easily understand how a person might lose his mental balance over this automatic writing; temporarily, all the old values seem thrown out.

I ought to go home and lie down. Instead, I went to choose the wall paper ordered by W. J. I could not decide which kind to buy. I held my shopping pencil lightly; in a minute it wrote, "take the grey," which I proceeded to do. My mind was in a turmoil; scattered, not concentrated. I think it is the condition referred to so many times in the book by M. Cameron, The Seven Purposes, as "divided purpose." It is a condition of indecision, painfully familiar to many people.

Please note that I said "I knew" by one flash of the inner voice in that place where "we know," that I should go home — call it conscience if you prefer. I had made the human plan of shopping. It was interrupted, and though I was perfectly exhausted I carried out my own plan and will, partly because I had told my friend I was going shopping and didn't want her to observe a change of plan. As I was feeling terribly distressed, I felt I had my husband's permission to seek his help through the pencil. Later, when I did grow calm, I was not satisfied that it had been he who answered me; then the conviction grew that it was not his answer.

June 20th, Sunday evening. I have felt convinced all day long that that message on Friday was an interference. I am now absolutely convinced that it was a deterrent or mischievous spirit. On July 22d, after two days of constant interference, I referred to this piece of manuscript and found that the handwriting used on June 20th was the same. This seems to me to point very clearly to the danger of getting under the power of an evil or deterrent personality, if in doing automatic writing one is actuated by curiosity or any light motive.

June 2 1 st. That interference was good for me, as it made the danger so evident.

June 19th, 1920, 1 p.m. Naturally all this has been in my mind at every waking minute, and I can see how wise was the order from my husband not to write till after I

get to , also the direction, "Turn to God." In the

Abolishing of Death, by Basil King, there is a chapter called " The New Tongue " — i.e., the language of Thought. This morning I said; at present I am forbidden to do the automatic writing, but I can make an experiment in thought language. I said to myself, if I went out in the automobile and was suddenly killed, I should presumably soon be able to practice — falteringly enough, no doubt, at first — the heavenly language, thought exchange; there would, however, have been no real change in my spirit; hence it is possible that I could try to receive consciously a thought now. I went to my husband's old desk and sent a thought message to my husband that I was ready to receive consciously a message. (I don't want to go into this thing and become unbalanced over it.) I know that I have as yet no proof for anyone else that all this does not come from my subconscious mind — for myself the only proof I have is an overwhelming sense of certainty that I have been in direct communication with my husband's personality and also my son's. I then "chained my imagination," "entered the silence." Nothing came, and I thought probably I am not capable yet. Suddenly I saw how I could make a practical use of a certain desk I have when writing on the rolls of wall paper. I had already so far perfected a plan of a table on which to write, that I had this morning thought of sending an exact paper pattern

of the table to a carpenter at , so that the table

would be ready when I reached there. In a flash I saw how the desk I already have could be made to serve splendidly, far better than the table I had planned. I am writing this down now because if it was a message I want it written down. Granted that we are so made as to be capable of receiving these thought messages, it seems to me it will be a great step in advance to do so consciously.

July 19th. "J , you did receive that thought. Of

course you all receive thoughts both good and bad constantly from this side; to do so consciously is the greatest advance."

July 4th. N in control. . . . "J , some one tried

to interfere. J , always pray if the pencil gets silly

and runs around."

July 4th. (Do you hear all my thoughts or only those I clearly direct to you?)

"J . I do not hear your thoughts in words. I feel

the effects of them as they affect your spiritual life. . . ."

(Later, after sending a clear thought.) (Can you get what I have told you?)

"Yes, I do, now that you are sending the thought clearly to me."

July 5th, 1920, 1.45 p.m. "J , don't come unless

you need me." (N. B. — Here the writing was extremely small, and came apparently with great difficulty.)

July 5th, 5 p.m. "J , trust God and don't keep

coming unnecessarily."

(Why?)

"Because you must live your life with God just as before, growing in your closeness to Him, otherwise it is idle use of the pencil. God bless you."

(This I take to mean that automatic writing, unless used for or toward a spiritual end, is abuse of a sacred privilege. It is not to be used as idle gratification.)

In the two above cases I came with mental questions — not for the pure joy of talking to him.

July 5th, 8.20 p.m. (. . . you don't mind my coming just for joy, do you?)

"J ... I want to write with your hand every

second of the day. What you must not do is to come to me with questions that you ought to settle for yourself, in order that you may grow closer to God. You see, this is your most important growing time, and I must not interrupt your growth. . . . You do not need to be assured that this is I, your own husband; you know it."

J to N . July 7th, 4.30 P.m. {Mr. James said

the other night the doctor wouldn't come, and he came at once. Why was that?)

"I don't know; he made a mistake. You see, those details are not important."

{Yes, but they are very confusing to us here. 'Both you and Phil said Tom would pass his exams, and he failed on three of them. 1 )

"Sorry we made a mistake. I think the truth is you shouldn't ask us specific questions of small details; they seem so small to us here."

July 8th, 5.30. "J you must not doubt, for it is

of tremendous importance that you should believe the real truth of this whole matter."

{Cant you tell me something I don't know and couldn't write alone?)

"J — — , I can't think why you keep asking for proof. You know. God bless you."

July 9th. "J , I want to talk to you a minute.

We have been starved for conscious intercourse. ... I did suggest that arrangement of the desk and you did understand. . . . Don't be afraid to pray" [corrected to believe].

1 Subsequently he passed them off.

{Now, why did that write wrongly?)

"You see it is not even yet quite natural for me to write with your hand."

July ioth. (Do I have to decide about the stenographer and all those details alone?)

July nth, 9 p.m. "J , you do have to decide that.

That is part of your human life, and it would weaken you if I decided those things and it is essential that you should grow in your spiritual life in order to do the work to which God has called you."

July 1 2th. "J — — ■. I am with you all the time when you need me. I too need to go away and receive God's strength."

(What would happen if I called you when you were there?)

"I should come to you because you are my appointed work now, and then I should go back to worship and renewal from the Father."

July 13th, 7.30 a.m. (Why didn't you answer that question above?)

"Because at the time [when it was asked] I had said you were to go to bed — and I said it not to order you, but because it was right; and here when we know a thing to be right we do it, we don't dally round till we get good and ready."

(Can you answer that question now?)

I had asked him if he knew about a certain spiritual experience I once had.) "No . . . not even a husband interferes between the Father and his child, even though she be his wife."

July 13th, 7.30 A.M. (/ know nothing about literary work. If I were doing a book with a person here I should consult him. Is it wrong for me to ask William James' advice about a stenographer? He wrote lots of books when he lived here.)

"No indeed, ask him by all means."

(Is it just as easy for you to hear my questions without my writing them down?)

"Yes, but I think you need to write them for the sake of the record."

July 13th, 7.30 p.m. ". . . It isn't at all easy for me to

answer questions. J , don't doubt, even though the

pencil writes what you think yourself. If Mr. James finds in your mind a thought or expression that you feel is your own and that he feels is the right one to carry his meaning, he will use it."

July 17th, 9.30 p.m. (Can deterrent spirits do things to our bodies, like the pain in my foot, to accomplish their deterrent purposes?)

"J , no deterrent spirit can interfere if you forbid it."

(What makes the pain in my foot, and how can I get rid of it?)

"You know that God is the Source of all health and healing; go to Him. I can't help when the right thing is for you to go to Him. It is not that I don't love you, but you must go to Him."