Challenging a God.

Contents

CHAPTER PAGE

I Challenging a God 1

III Man and Universe as Perceiver or

II

I never can remember in which year, before or after Christ, a big battle was fought, or a king was born, or a new religion was founded. My lack of interest is, most probably, the cause of my forget fulness. I care little for the innumerable little happenings of the past. I do not think that history's purpose is to teach us dates and details of murders and conquests. History, as a whole, is teaching us but one thing. And this one thing is not always known to be the most interesting revelation in the records of past events. We are often more interested to know the number of wives and mistresses of King Henry the Eighth than to know that he was a selfish man. That the Catholic Church burned and tortured " unbelievers " is quite remarkable, considering it does not do so to-day. That such deeds were damnable and are unknown to-day, and that something must have happened to change people's viewpoints,

is of less interest. Yet is this uninteresting 13 side of history the most important one. It teaches us that man is subject to growth. And I believe that this simple fact allows us to penetrate a little deeper into the darkness of existence-mystery.

From the reports of biologists, geologists, evolutionists, and philosophers in general, we are able to create a vague mental picture of the ancient man. We watch him roam the forest, unshaven, uncombed, totally ignorant of the existence of Paris garters and lavender socks. His chief business is to hunt for food. Yes, his chief business is to satisfy his self. We stand appalled at his unpolished manners toward the gentle sex. The art of paying compliments to fair womanhood is sadly foreign to him. He actually captures her by sheer brute force. His self desires her ; she should be his.

Of this man we can merely remark that he exists. Existence is his only occupation. It is not so much that existence which is a part of one mighty whole-existence. His existence is self-centered, absolutely individual. He, the individual, exists before and above anything or anybody else. Let the stars shine in the skydepths if they wish! He sees them without being conscious of them. They do not stimulate his thought. His self-absorption envelops him in a veil of darkness that separates him from an outside universe. Of all things and beings he exists first. The balance of fathomless universe is mere decoration. It very conveniently fills up the remaining void.

From this pit of soul-darkness, man arises slowly as the years roll by. We shall take a long journey on che wings of time, and visit the man of the Middle Ages. We immediately notice that the centuries have wrought a change in the being of man. He is not so intensely absorbed in self. He is actually inclined to take interest in other things beside his self. He even wonders what sort of thing this huge dwelling-place of his may be. He does not know whether to call it flat or round. One daring thinker claims that the earth is round and revolves upon an axis.

Taken as a whole, this man is devoting some of his attention to art, education, and science. He is laying the crude foundations for a present university and laboratory. But although his self-centeredness is markedly less than that of the ancient man, he still considers his self to be the most important factor of existence. We see him play the role of king and nobleman. The king's word is law. He who displeases him or disregards his wishes is uncertain of his life. His desire to aggrandize his kingdom must be fulfilled at any cost. What matters the death of thousands of his subjects? Instead of conquering with the iron muscle of yore, he slays with the spear or with gunpowder; sometimes, also, with reason and intellect.

We see this man play the role of priest. He commands the world to obey his word. Let no one obstruct his path! Let no one dare utter a thought or a conviction that might displease him! Torture and persecution are the well deserved penalties of such wickedness.

Unlike the brute man, then, this man of the Middle Ages is finding distraction in an outside universe. He has partly broken through the wall of darkness that envelops intense self-centeredness. He is, consequently, receptive to impression and knowledge. We are glad, however, to hurry away from him. His highly self-centered being expresses itself through intense selfishness or thought of self.

Man of the twentieth century ! How favorably does man of to-day compare with his ancestors ! His self-cent eredness is infinitely less. This fact is revealed by his greater generosity, his broad-mindedness, and his deep knowledge. He busies himself with innumerable things. The isolation-wall of self-absorption is nothing less than a heap of ruins. His being soars the depths of universe. Thought of self has been partly conquered by thought of others and thought of universe. He is not devoting his entire life to his self. Part of it is spent away from self. Were it not for this fact, he would not be able to make his discoveries about universe. He is receptive to impression and knowing. The man-seed has penetrated through its prison-house of darkness. The man-tree is towering towards the sky, catching the breezes of eternity, making a first attempt to embrace the All.

Is it necessary to furnish the proofs that man of to-day is infinitely less absorbed in self than man of a century ago? I may mention the many charitable institutions, the free schools and hospitals. And what might Nero have thought of a society for preventing cruelty to animals ? What would Napoleon have answered to the modern statement that war is a crime? What might the people of two centuries ago have thought about democracy? The noiseless flap of time's wings has wrought an astonishing change in the being of man!

In spite of our many accusations against man, we are compelled to admit that he has been improving continuously. We are forced to speak of a growth in man. He has been guided by the irresistible hand of progress. This is the great fact history is teaching us. It could not possibly reveal a more interesting fact. To know that man's being is growing is to know something about the very secret of existence.

The nature of the growth in man is a peculiar one. It is undeniably the growth of unselfishness. Study your history ; you shall find it to be so. Selfishness and generosity, however, are but expressions of man's being. The very soul or being of man has changed in the course of time. There was a time when it was almost completely absorbed in itself. To use a modern expression : it was intensely conscious of self, or self-conscious. I lack the words and the expressions that should convey my meaning. As an illustration, I may mention the rose as being a lovely expression of intense self-consciousness. It is entirely wrapped up in its own existence. It is only aware of the sunbeams, the raindrops, and the night-time, which make up its outside universe. And most probably this awareness is not a realized one.

The intensely self-conscious man of yore was greatly absorbed in his individual existence. His awareness of self, however, was a conscious or realized awareness. It erected an unsurmountable wall between his being and the outside world. We might state that he was not All-conscious. We must not imagine, however, that he could possibly change this attitude of indifference towards the universe. This change could only be effected through the change of his being, which was subject to natural growth.

History, then, teaches that the self-consciousness of man's being has become less intense. This fact is revealed by the growth of unselfishness — an expression of the growth of All-consciousness. We are liable to pay little attention to this peculiar growth in man. We take it as a matter of fact. We speak of progress and civilization, as if such things were not remarkable. Civilization, however, is but a visible expression of man's being. Yes, it ultimately depends upon the degree of self-consciousness of the individual's being. A high degree of civilization belongs to a high degree of soul-development. I do not take this growth and development of man's being as a matter of fact. It is highly astonishing and interesting. It is one of the most important hints given us to solve another part of the immense secret.

We, to-day, may be quite satisfied with the high degree of development of man's being. This does not prevent it from growing. Looking around in our life of to-day, we must admit that it is thickly strewn with expressions of deep self-consciousness. Let us be truthful about it! It is wise and generous to admit our own imperfection. It is foolish and selfish to refuse to notice it.

Man, to-day, is still greatly absorbed in self. I may mention here that this self-consciousness is human existence itself. Were it not for this fundamental quality of man's being, we should not be here writing about him. But there exist degrees of self-consciousness. A low degree belongs to the brute man's being; a higher degree to the noble individual. To-day there still exist expressions of a low degree of man-development. A few of these expressions are vanity, ignorance, orthodoxy, injustice, greed, graft, murder, war, etc. Democracy, as a form of government, is the highest expression known of advanced soul-development. Broadmindedness, generosity, universal knowledge are other such expressions.

That man is primarily aware of, and absorbed in, self is easily discovered by studying our own being. I have often wondered where the haunts of sorrow might be located. I have come to the extraordinary conclusion that both sorrow and happiness dwell under the same roof. I have asked myself the simple questions: "Who is sorrowful? Who is happy?" The answer is : " I am." One cannot deny the fact that sorrow finds its birth in " me," that self-centered something that constitutes man's being. The causes of our sufferings are, to all appearances, outside influences, happenings, and conditions. Is it not remarkable, however, that one individual is crushed, another strengthened and purified, by the same sorrowful experience? If outside influences, then, assault us, their effect is nevertheless determined by the quality of our being. The flame cannot have its destructive effect without an object upon which to act. A piece of pape*r is affected by a burning match; a stone is not. The quality of the object acted upon is of as much importance as the flame itself.

All sorrow is caused by loss. When I ardently desire possession or the realization of a wish, I am liable to suffer if my desire is not fulfilled. In my ignorance I may curse myself and the world. I may wonder why a Supreme Being did not grant my request. I may think this earth a miserable dwelling-place for man. But the world moves on as silently as ever; the sun rises and sets as it did yesterday; life's business proceeds in the same regular manner. Nothing is being affected except my " me," my self. The disturbance is purely local. That awareness of self, that self-consciousness, is really the cause of my sorrow. I cannot conscientiously accuse a god, or my fellow-man, of being the author of my mental pain. If I am honest with myself, I shall admit that, in last analysis, the quality of my own being determines the disastrous effect of sorrow.

That which is painful to you may not be painful to me. Different qualities of being expressing different desires, your loss may not be a loss in my opinion. But each individual is liable to lose, or be disappointed in, something. The intensity of our pain is determined by our degree of selfishness; ultimately, by the degree of self-consciousness of our being.

Should we surround our impressive being with a wall of ice-cold indifference ? Should we be altogether feelingless? I do not think this possible. But even if it were possible, we would not destroy our selfishness. No man ever has, or ever will, evolve beyond sorrow or pain. Even a Christ emptied a sorrow-filled soul when he uttered these words : " [Lord, my Lord, why hast Thou forsaken me? " But man may evolve to a degree of being that enables him to bear pain. The unselfish man is capable of bearing sorrow. The intensely self-conscious man, who values his own being above anything or anybody else, is the one who weeps and whines when disaster overtakes him. The unselfish man " grins and bears." We should not pay too much attention to the ever-crying voice of our " me." We should not sympathize too much with our self. Such attitude will prevent us from conquering.

It is a peculiar fact that man never searches his own being for the solution of an existenceproblem. I consider it my special duty to acquaint him, through the pages of this little book, with the almost incomprehensible value of his being. It is a powerful cause. It answers many a pertinent question relating to the great secret. How powerful man's being is, I actually dare not utter in so many words.

I realize the hopelessness of asking a Supreme Being to enlighten me on subjects relative to the mystery of existence. The only answer I ever received was the silence of fathomless universe. I received my knowledge through observation and, principally, through studying my own being. That existence is such a complete mystery is partly due to man's tendency to seek the cause of certain effects in the depths of the heavens. He is ever groping in the clouds and the imagined, but unknown, realms of a Supreme Ruler. I advise him to begin his study with his self. The results might be startling.

Ill

MAN AND UNIVERSE AS PERCEIVER OR CONSCIOUSNESS

I know of no more puzzling, astonishing something than the " me " that moves the body of man. I am inclined to believe that altogether too much attention has been paid to that automaton of flesh and blood — man's physical appearance. The thinker of thoughts, the receiver of impressions, the perceiver of objects, the dreamer of dreams, the self-centered, self-conscious me has been shamefully ignored. Having discovered the self-loving quality of this me, let us see what other business it has in this universe.

I must yet find two people who receive the same impression from that orderly chaos, visible universe. True, we do not see objects and beings differently, but we feel them differently. We are impressed differently by them. We are in a different manner conscious of them.

Although that glorious heap of things that

make up visible universe remains forever fixed

in form and shade, its impression upon the indi- 24 vidual may be changeable. Why, even the most carefree and thoughtless man admits that one should smile in order to see that smile reflected upon the world. The most simple-minded creature will hear the world sob in answer to the cry of grief in his own heart. Whence that changeability of impression-power with which universe appears to be endowed ? Surely a rose is ever a rose, a star is ever a star, the world is ever the world. The luminous glory of Venus is the same to-day as it was yesterday. The perfume of the rose shall not be sweeter to-morrow than it is at present. But it would appear that that subtle, incomprehensible me, peeping through or from behind its appearance of form and flesh-color, is capable of feeling, perceiving universe to-day in this manner, to-morrow in a different one. Although the same flower-covered earth, the same star-filled universe, confront the individual, he may yet feel them differently at different moments. Still more astonishing is the fact that each individual carries his own individual impression of the world in his heart. One would almost be inclined to state that universe does not lie unfurled without the bodily observation-tower of the human me, but that it exists withm me, and is hued by its individual colors.

I have often wished that I might be able to change my me or personality, be it only for a few moments, into that of others. I might then see — nay, not see, but feel, be conscious of — the world in the same manner as other individuals are conscious of it. Existence would then, no doubt, be a wonderful revelation ! We might then, perhaps, comprehend more clearly the why and how of all that is.

There is but one universe to be seen, but there are as many universes to be felt, perceived, as there are human beings to feel or perceive it. There is, for instance, the man whose chief ambition is to satisfy the selfish clamor of self. He is sometimes known by the name of materialist, and is generally styled the selfish man. Walking through the still night, he may see the stars above his head, but he is barely conscious of them. No mysterious, beautiful globes roll through infinite depths for him ! Nothing rolls — except his silver, shining dollar. There is music in the air of night. The trees rustle, the leaves and the flowers lisp an incomparable lullaby. Yet does this individual walk in this immensity of unnamable beauty — deaf to all sound, unconscious of the musical breath of slumbering earth. No tender, soul-stirring

music exists for him except the ringing of

the golden coin, except the noisy brass-band of his selfish me ! What should he know, this man, about existence, universe or God? In order to gain knowledge, one should pave the way by thinking. And all his thought is centered in his self, and all existence is rooted in himself, and all the universe is reduced to the pin-point of his selfish self !

Yes, there exists a universe for this individual, — his universe, in fact. The world does not really exist without, but within, the limits of his self. As he is, thus is the world. Universe has a certain value, a significance, solely reserved for him, for the reason that his personality, or consciousness, or me is what it is. It was Schopenhauer who taught the world that everything exists as an idea in the soul of man !

There is the individual known to us as the poet-philosopher. I do not refer to the so-called poet whose world is sugar-sweet and whose heart is inflamed with vaudeville-courage. I am hinting at the man who is a poet as a consequence of his deep insight into the marvel of existence — a man like Emerson, for example. The being of such a man differs widely from that of the materialist or selfish man. The poet-philosopher is altogether less self-centered. On the whole, his attention is diverted from his self. His being is not so thickly wrapped in the cloak of self-absorption. It is, consequently, receptive to knowledge and impression. There is the mystery of the All to be unravelled ! There is the beauty of the world to be felt and analyzed! Many things have their being beside his self. There is struggling humanity, for instance. His fellow-man is ignorant of some of the laws of life that have been revealed to him. He must teach them — how to live, how to conquer misery, how to be happy in this world of marvel and mystery. What a beauteous world, this world of his! If there exists a god to him, his name spells beauty. If his god has attributes, they are power, wisdom, and universality, which attributes are beautiful in themselves. Beauty, wherever his eye may roam! Wild beauty in the roar of the tempestuous ocean; rugged, rough beauty in the boulder-strewn mountain-wilderness ; tender, sad beauty in the soul-wrung composition of a Chopin ; pure beauty in the sun-kissed lily ; divine, unspeakable beauty in the soul that climbs from out of the depths of ignorance, sin, and sorrow into the light of knowing and contentment!

Indeed, there exists a paradise-hued universe to this individual. It is altogether different from that of which the materialist is conscious. Is universe itself the cause of this extraordinary fact? Seek the answer in the being of man! Find the solution of many a life-problem in man himself ! When at last you turn disgustedly from the fathomless world-depth that ever answers with a mocking silence, you are compelled to study your self. In your self, in your me, slumbers many a secret answer. And this poet-philosopher is conscious of a beautiful universe because his being represents a certain quality of soul-development that is the cause of a distinctly marked impression. He, himself, is beauty, and this beauty reflects upon the world perceived. Universe, in fact, exists as a beautiful idea in his soul or consciousness.

There exist, then, as many universes as there are human beings. As I am, thus is the world. Universe exists as an idea in my conscious being.

In view of the above, we are not surprised to find our universe to be a changeable, moody immensity. Well I remember those days when the voice of my self was constantly ringing in my ears. I selfishly cursed my ill-luck. I selfishly condemned those who apparently obstructed my path of progress. I selfishly sympathized with my self, and consequently wrapped myself in a cloak of bitterness and melancholy. Universe? Life? The world? My own bitterness and sadness reflected upon the world. This was indeed a sad, hopeless existence! Man was indeed a selfish, heartless brute! Yes, all this was truly so. As I am in being, thus is the world without. My self-love, moreover, prevented me from knowing. There was nothing to know but the selfish demands of my self. I was shut out from the realm of universa! knowing. I was ignorant; not wise, not spiritual.

This self-love, the expression of self-consciousness, is the key to the life-hieroglyphics of existence. It explains everything except, perhaps, the beginning and the end which in all probability do not exist. Were it not for self-consciousness, material universe would not exist. There would be a vast ocean of All-consciousness, which does not express itself in limited, material form and therefore would appear as nothingness to self-conscious man.

And what about the rest of the universe? Have we summed up our conclusions about universal existence when we say that man is self-conscious being and the rest of universe is made up of things, just things? I sometimes wonder what unnamable conceit prompted man to draw a line of absolute distinction between himself and the balance of the All. Why is he totally different from the rest of God's beings? His self-love, perhaps, caused him to look at things in that manner. Perhaps it was the fact that a difference exists between him and the other inmates of universe that made him blind to the truth that he is merely the most sublime edition of creation.

I am not aware of an absolute separation between my own being and the more humble and undeveloped ones of universe. I can notice but a difference of degree. I recognize my self in the rigid rock, the nodding flower, the fluttering bird. That is to say, I find my own unfavorable elemental qualities intensified in beast, and plant, and even mineral; I am aware of a total or partial absence of man's sublimer qualities in them.

The solid rock, for example, speaks volumes of life-knowledge to me. The rock, or perhaps each of its particles, is a visible expression of intense self-consciousness. The atoms of the stone are so absorbed in self that even a sledgehammer does not make any impression upon the stone. The stone does not move unless I kick it sufficiently hard. The " me " of the stonemolecule is plunged in total darkness. We say that the stone is lifeless, even as we sometimes remark about an individual that he is " dead."

Then there is the fragrant rose. What lovely expression of intense self-consciousness that flower is ! Why, it does not even toil, neither does it spin. It grows and blooms wherever the invisible hand of universe may plant it. Its chief business in this world is to draw the nourishing essence from its little rootentangled earth-bed; to lift up its innocent petal-face to the vitalizing rays of the sun. It is almost completely absorbed in self. Not as completely as the stone, however! There are many indications pointing at the fact that the flower is vaguely conscious of an outside world. It dies, for instance, when bereft of food and sunshine. From a shadowed dwelling-place it bends and grows in the direction of the falling sunbeams. Nay, I even have noticed that the flower is dimly aware of the presence of human beings! Impression, I am convinced, stirs the being of the flower. This impression is probably so vague and so simple in its effect that we, who are literally besieged by conscious and unconscious, stormy and peaceful, impressions, do not dream of its existence. It should, moreover, be an unconscious impression, for the flower is far below the stage of man-being, which is particularly characterized by the individual's awareness of his own consciousness. The flower, then, is not conscious of being conscious.

Close observation made me conclude that different people affect the flower in a different manner. The selfish or morose person cannot " keep " cut flowers for as long a period as the strong, cheerful individual can. It would seem that the flower is impressed (probably not consciously) by the quality of the selfish person's being. As a consequence thereof it quickly droops its head and fades away. The being of the noble, unselfish, cheerful man, however, impresses the flower in such a manner that its life is prolonged.

What an interesting something — the being, or soul, of man! * What a glorious world, this huge dwelling-place of ours! Full of interest and marvel, indeed! I have no desire to exchange it for a heaven of eternal bliss. I should feel infinitely bored. I should long for my earthly trials and my beautiful paradise of universe. A heaven is a fit abode for a sleepy, tired, discouraged individual, anyway.

The flower, then, is a little less absorbed in self than the rock is, and it consequently manifests a certain amount of freedom. There is growth ; there is life. There is not that stony, death-like attitude towards the outside world. There is a glimmer of light in the flower, be it an ever so faint a one.

Then there is the animal. What a beautifully savage expression of intense self-consciousness is the king of animals, for example ! Also his chief occupation in this world is the satisfying of self. Also he is intensely self-conscious. His life is spent in preying on his victim that must furnish him his food, and in comfortably snoozing in a corner of his den. Yet is the animal less absorbed in self than the plant is. It is to a greater degree conscious of the All. It consequently enjoys a greater freedom. It actually moves about at will, while the plant, as a rule, flourishes on the spot of birth. It is, moreover, master over the plant, while the plant, in turn, is master over the mineral. It is not fate that orders the cow to eat the grass of the meadow. The plant, being more intensely absorbed in self than the animal, enjoys less freedom and is the latter's slave. And in human life we shall see that the man who is least wrapped up in self enjoys the greatest freedom and is mentally and morally master among men.

The least self-absorbed being in universe is man. Being infinitely less self-centered than the animal, the plant, and the mineral, he is their master. He is, moreover, more receptive to impression, and, as a consequence thereof, his own possibility of becoming All-knowing. The All is partly known to him. There is no death-like darkness surrounding him. There is no bondage of utter self -absorption limiting him to a condition of slavery. He is the ruler of physical nature.

Needless to say that there are several degrees of man-being. The sweetly self-conscious rose, for instance, is to be found among the fair maidens of this earth. We know her, the carefree woman-child of luxury. Her business in life is to lift her innocent face to the sunshine-rays of comfort and pleasure. She drinks the self-nourishing essence of ease and happiness. She unconsciously cherishes and caresses her self. Little does she dream that there is a mighty universe scheming and moving about her; that there is a humanity struggling for light and conquest of sorrow; that there is an invisible power weaving the web of her future; until one unexpected day a cruel blow from life startles her from her rosy dream. Then she wonders why. Her little head fades and droops. Another rose has known of bloom and fragrance.

Also the beautifully savage expression of intense self-consciousness like that of a tiger or a lion is to be found among men. We shall find it in a Napoleon, in an individual bent on material conquest. He spares neither his own nor his enemy's soldiers in his turbulent rush for might and power. Nobody and nothing must obstruct his bloody path. No human or other voice sounds louder than that of his self. Somber and fierce his appearance, hard and determined his expression, black and gloomy his self ; he stands on the battlefield of earth, shut out from the realms of All-knowing. An impenetrable fog of self-love, blood, and bullets surrounds him, until a Waterloo and subsequent exile divert his attention from self to an outside universe which is apparently governed by strange and incomprehensible laws. Indeed, a Waterloo within the soul of the self-loving creature is an angel in bloody disguise that shows the road leading to unselfishness and understanding.