Vinaire's Blog

Reference: Tertium Organum

NOTE: Text in color contains my comments.

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Chapter 14: Sensation

The voices of stones. The wall of a church and the wall of a prison. The mast of a ship and a gallows. The shadow of a hangman and of an ascetic. The soul of a hangman and of an ascetic. The different combinations of known phenomena in higher space. The relationship of phenomena which appear unrelated, and the difference between phenomena which appear similar. How shall we approach the noumenal world? The understanding of things outside the categories of space and time. The reality of many “figures of speech.” The occult understanding of energy. The letter of a Hindu occultist. Art as the knowledge of the noumenal world. What we see and what we do not see. Plato’s dialogue about the cavern.

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It seems to us that we see something and understand something. But in reality all that proceeds around us we sense only very confusedly, just as a snail senses confusedly the sunlight, the darkness, and the rain. 

Sometimes in things we sense confusedly their difference in function, i.e., their real difference. 

On one occasion I was crossing the Neva with one of my friends. A, with whom I happened to have had many conversations upon the themes touched on in this book. We had been talking, but both fell silent as we approached the fortress, gazing up at its walls and making probably the same reflection. ”Right there are also factory chimneys!” said A. Behind the walls of the fortress indeed appeared some brick chimneys blackened by smoke. 

On his saying this, I too sensed the difference between the chimneys and the prison walls with unusual clearness and like an electric shock. I realized the difference between the very bricks themselves, and it seemed to me that A realized this difference also. 

Later in conversation with A, I recalled this episode, and he told me that not only then, but always, he sensed these differences and was deeply convinced of their reality. “Positivism assures itself that a stone is a stone and nothing more,” he said, “but any simple woman or child knows perfectly that a stone from the wall of a church and one from a prison wall are different things.” 

It seems to me also, that in considering a given phenomenon in connection with all the chains of sequences of which it is a link, we shall see that the subjective sensation of the difference between two physically similar objects — which we are accustomed to think of only as poetic expression, metaphor, and the reality of which we deny — is entirely real; we shall see that these objects are really different, just as different as the candle and the coin which appear as similar circles (moving lines) in the two-dimensional world of the plane-man. We shall see that things of the same material constitution but different in their functions are really different, and that this difference goes so deep as to make different the very material which is physically the same. There are differences in stone, in wood, in iron, in paper, which no chemistry will ever detect: but these differences exist, and there are men who feel and understand them. 

The mast of a ship, a gallows, a crucifix at a cross-roads on the steppes — these may be made of the same kind of wood, but in reality they are different objects made of different material. That which we see, touch, investigate, is nothing more than “the circles on the plane” made by the coin and the candle. They are only the shadows of real things, the substance of which is contained in their function. The shadow of a sailor, of a hangman, and of an ascetic may be quite similar — it is impossible to distinguish them by their shadows, just as it is impossible to find any difference between the wood of a mast, of a gallows and of a cross by chemical analysis. But they are different men and different objects — their shadows only are equal and similar. 

And if we take men as we know them — the sailor, the hangman, the ascetic: men who seem to us similar and equal — and consider them from the standpoint of their differences in function, we shall see that in reality they are entirely different and that there is nothing in common between them. They are quite different beings, belonging to different categories, to different planes of the world between which there are no bridges, no avenues at all. These men seem to us equal and similar because in most cases we see only the shadows of real facts. The “souls” of these men are actually quite different, different not only in their quality, their magnitude, their “age,” as some people like now to put it, but as different in the very nature, origin and purpose of their existence as things belonging to entirely different categories can be. 

When we shall begin to understand this, the general concept man will take on a different meaning. 

And this relation holds in the observation of all phenomena. The mast, the gallows, the cross — these are things belonging to such different categories, the atoms of such different objects (known only by their functions), that there cannot be a question of any similarity at all. Our misfortune consists in the fact that we regard the chemical constitution of a thing as its most real attribute, while as a matter of fact its true attributes must be sought for in its functions. Could we broaden and deepen our vision of the chains of causation the links of which are forged by our action and our conduct; could we learn to see them not only in their narrow relation to the life of man — to our personal life — but in their broad cosmical meaning; could we succeed in finding and establishing a connection between the simple phenomena of our life and the life of the cosmos; then without doubt in these “simplest” phenomena would be unveiled for us an infinity of the new and the unexpected. 

For example, in this way we may come to know something entirely new about those simple physical phenomena which we are accustomed to regard as natural and obvious and about which we think we know something. Then, unexpectedly, we may find that we know nothing, that everything heretofore known about them is only an incorrect deduction from incorrect premises. There may be revealed to us something infinitely great and immeasurably important in such phenomena as the expansion and contraction of solids, electrical phenomena, heat, light, sound, the movements of the planets, the coming of day and of night, the change of seasons, a thunderstorm, heat-lightning, etc., etc. Generally speaking, we may find explained in the most unexpected manner the properties of phenomena which we used to accept as given things, as not containing anything within themselves that we could not see and understand. 

The constancy, the time, the periodicity or unperiodicity of phenomena may take on quite a new meaning and significance for us. The new and the unexpected may reveal itself in the transition of some phenomena into others. Birth, death, the life of a man, his relations with other men; love, enmity, sympathies, antipathies, desires, passions — these may unexpectedly receive illumination by an entirely new light. It is impossible now to imagine the nature of this newness which we shall sense in familiar things, and once felt it will be difficult to understand. 

But it is really only our inaptitude to feel and understand this “newness” which divides us from it, because we are living in it and amidst it. Our senses, however, are too primitive, our concepts are too crude, for that fine differentiation of phenomena which must unfold itself to us in higher space. Our minds, our powers of correlation and association are sufficiently elastic for the grasping of new relations. Therefore, the first emotion at the rising of the curtain on “that world” — i.e., this our world, but free of those limitations under which we usually regard it — must be of wonderment, and this wonderment must grow greater and greater according to our better acquaintance with it. And the better we know a certain thing or a certain relation of things — the nearer, the more familiar they are to us — the greater will be our wonder at the new and the unexpected therein revealed. 

Desiring to understand the noumenal world we must search for the hidden meaning in everything. At present we are too heavily enchained by the habit of the positivistic method of searching always for the visible cause and the visible effect. Under this weight of positivistic habit it is extremely difficult for us to comprehend certain ideas. Among other things we have difficulty in understanding the reality of the difference in the noumenal world between objects of our world which are similar, but different in function. 

But if we desire to approach to an understanding of the noumenal world, we must try with all our might to notice all those seeming, “subjective” differences between objects which astonish us sometimes, of which we are often painfully aware — those differences expressed in the symbols and metaphors of art which are often revelations of the world of reality. Such differences are the realities of the noumenal world, far more real than all maya (illusion) of our phenomena. 

We should endeavor to notice these realities and to develop within ourselves the ability to feel them, because exactly in this manner and only by such a method do we put ourselves in contact with the noumenal world or the world of causes.

Revelation comes from looking more closely. We can sense the difference in the function of two similar things. Knowing its function we may grasp something entirely new about an object. This allows for greater assimilation.

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I find an interesting example of the understanding of the hidden meaning of phenomena contained in The Occult World in the letter of a Hindu occultist to the author of the book, A. P. Sinnett. 

We see a vast difference between the two qualities of two equal amounts of energy expended by two men, of whom one, let us suppose, is on his way to his daily quiet work, and another on his way to denounce a fellow creature at the police station, while the men of science see none; and we — not they — see a specific difference between the energy in the motion of the wind and that of a revolving wheel. 

Every thought of man upon being evolved passes into the inner world, and becomes an active entity by associating itself, coalescing, we might term it, with an elemental — that is to say, with one of the semi-intelligent forces of the kingdom.

If we ignore the last part of this quotation for the moment, and consider only the first part, we shall easily see that the “man of science” does not recognize the difference in the quality of the energy spent by two men going, one to his work, and another to denounce someone. For the man of science this difference is negligible: science does not sense it and does not recognize it. But perhaps the difference is much deeper and consists not in the difference between modes of energy but in the difference between men, one of whom is able to develop energy of one sort and another that of a different sort. Now we have a form of knowledge which senses this difference perfectly, knows and understands it. I am speaking of art. The musician, the painter, the sculptor well understand that it is possible to walk differently — and even impossible not to walk differently: a workman and a spy cannot walk alike. 

Better than all the actor understands this, or at least he should understand it better. 

The poet understands that the mast of a ship, the gallows, and the cross are made of different wood. He understands the difference between the stone from a church wall and the stone from a prison wall. He hears “the voices of stones,” understands the whisperings of ancient walls, of tumuli, of mountains, rivers, woods and plains. He hears “the voice of the silence,” understands the psychological difference between silences, knows that one silence can differ from another. And this poetical understanding of the world should be developed, strengthened and fortified, because only by its aid do we come in contact with the true world of reality. In the real world, behind phenomena which appear to us similar, often stand noumena so different that only by our blindness is it possible to account for our idea of the similarity of those phenomena. 

Through such a false idea the current belief in the similarity and equality of men must have arisen. In reality the difference between a “hangman,” a “sailor,” and an “ascetic” is not an accidental difference of position, state and heredity, as materialism tries to assure us; nor is it a difference between the stages of one and the same evolution, as theosophy affirms; but it is a deep and IMPASSABLE difference — such as exists between murder, work and prayer —- involving entirely different worlds. The representatives of these worlds may seem to us to be similar MEN, only because we see, not them, but their shadows only. 

It is necessary to accustom oneself to the thought that this difference is not metaphysical but entirely real, more real than many visible differences between things and between phenomena. 

All art, in essence, consists of the understanding and representation of these elusive differences. The phenomenal world is merely a means for the artist — just as colors are for the painter, and sounds for the musician — a means for the understanding of the noumenal world and for the expression of that understanding. At the present stage of our development we possess nothing so powerful, as an instrument of knowledge of the world of causes, as art. The mystery of life dwells in the fact that the noumenon, i.e., the hidden meaning and the hidden function of a thing, is reflected in its phenomenon. A phenomenon is merely the reflection of a noumenon in our sphere. THE PHENOMENON IS THE IMAGE OF THE NOUMENON. It is possible to know the noumenon by the phenomenon. But in this field the chemical reagents and spectroscopes can accomplish nothing. Only that fine apparatus which is called the soul of an artist can understand and feel the reflection of the noumenon in the phenomenon. In art it is necessary to study “occultism” — the hidden side of life. The artist must be a clairvoyant: he must see that which others do not see; he must be a magician: must possess the power to make others see that which they do not themselves see, but which he does see. 

Art sees more and farther than we do. As was said before, we usually see nothing, we merely feel our way; therefore we do not notice those differences between things which cannot be expressed in terms of chemistry or physics. But art is the beginning of vision; it sees vastly more than the most perfect apparatus can discover; and it senses the infinite invisible facets of that crystal, one facet of which we call man. 

The truth is that this earth is the scene of a drama of which we only perceive scattered portions, and in which the greater number of the actors are invisible to us. 

Thus says the theosophical writer, Mabel Collins, the author of Light on the Path, in a little book, Illusions. And this is very true: we see only a little. 

But art sees farther than merely human sight, and therefore concerning certain sides of life art alone can speak, and has the right to speak. 

The differences exist not just in the physical appearance but also in the underlying function or motive. Such differences are just as important to grasp. Because of such differences all men are not really equal. But they must have access to equal opportunities to realize their potentials.

The noumenon, i.e., the hidden meaning and the hidden function of a thing, is reflected in its phenomenon. An artist sees farther than merely human sight.

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A remarkable attempt to portray our relation to the “noumenal world” — to that “great life” — is found in Book VII of Plato’s Republic.

Behold! human beings living in a sort of underground den; they have been there from their childhood, and have their legs and necks chained — the chains are arranged in such a manner as to prevent them from turning round their heads. At a distance above and behind them the light of a fire is blazing, and between the fire and the prisoners there is a raised way; and you will see, if you look, a low wall built along the way, like the screen which marionette players have before them, over which they show the puppets. Imagine men passing along the wall carrying vessels, which appear over the wall; also figures of men and animals, made of wood and stone and various materials; and some of the passengers, as you would expect, are talking, and some of them are silent! 

That is a strange image, he said, and they are strange prisoners. 

Like ourselves, I replied; and they see only their own shadows, or the shadows of one another, which the fire throws on the opposite wall of the cave? 

True, he said; how could they see anything but the shadows if they were never allowed to move their heads? 

And of the objects which are being carried in like manner they would only see the shadows? 

Yes, he said. 

And if they were able to talk with one another, would they not suppose that they were naming what was actually before them? 

Very true. 

And suppose further that the prison had an echo which came from the other side, would they not be sure to fancy that the voice which they heard was that of a passing shadow? 

No question, he replied. 

There can be no question, I said, that the truth would be to them just nothing but the shadows of the images. 

That is certain. 

And now look again and see how they are released and cured of their folly. At first, when any one of them is liberated and compelled suddenly to go up and turn his neck around and walk and look at the light, he will suffer sharp pains; the glare will distress him and he will be unable to see the realities of which in his former state he had seen the shadows; and then imagine someone saying to him, that what he saw before was an illusion, but that now he is approaching real being and has a truer sight and vision of more real things, — what will be his reply? And you may further imagine that his instructor is pointing to the objects as they pass and requiring him to name them, — will he not be in a difficulty? Will he not fancy that the shadows which he formerly saw are truer than the objects which are now shown to him? 

Far truer.

And if he is compelled to look at the light, will he not have a pain in his eyes which will make him turn away to take refuge in the object of vision which he can see, and which he will conceive to be clearer than the things which are now being shown to him? 

True, he said. 

And suppose once more, that he is reluctantly dragged up a steep and rugged ascent, and held fast and forced into the presence of the sun himself, do you not think that he will be pained and irritated, and when he approaches the light he will have his eyes dazzled, and will not be able to see any of the realities which are now affirmed to be the truth? 

Not all in a moment, he said. 

He will require to get accustomed to the sight of the upper world. And first he will see the shadows best, next the reflections of men and other objects in the water, and then the objects themselves; next he will gaze upon the light of the moon and the stars; and he will see the sky and the stars by night, better than the sun, or the light of the sun, by day? 

Certainly. 

And at last he will be able to see the sun, and not mere reflections of him in the water, but he will see him as he is in his own proper place, and not in another, and he will contemplate his nature. 

Certainly. 

And after this he will reason that the sun is he who gives the seasons and the years, and is the guardian of all that is in the visible world, and in a certain way the cause of all things which he and his fellows have been accustomed to behold? 

Clearly, he said, he would come to the other first and to this afterwards. 

And when he remembered his old habitation, and the wisdom of the den and his fellow-prisoners, do you not suppose that he would felicitate himself on the change, and pity them? 

Certainly, he would. 

And if they were in the habit of conferring honors on those who were quickest to observe and remember and foretell which of the shadows went before, and which followed after, and which were together, do you think that he would care for such honors and glories, or envy the possessors of them? 

Would he not say with Homer, — 

“Better to be a poor man, and have a poor master,” and endure anything, than to think and live after their manner? 

Yes, he said, I think that he would rather suffer anything than live after their manner. 

Imagine once more, I said, that such an one coming suddenly out of the sun were to be replaced in his old situation, is he not certain to have his eyes full of darkness? 

Very true, he said.

And if there were a contest, and he had to compete in measuring the shadows with the prisoners who have never moved out of the den, during the time that his sight is weak, and before his eyes are steady (and the time which would be needed to acquire this new habit of sight might be very considerable), would he not be ridiculous? Men would say of him that up he went and down he comes without his eyes; and that there was no use in even thinking of ascending: and if anyone tried to loose another and lead him up to the light, let them only catch the offender in the act, and they would put him to death. 

No question, he said. 

This allegory, I said, you may now append to the previous argument; the prison is the world of sight, the light of the fire is the sun, the ascent and vision of the things above you may truly regard as the upward progress of the soul into the intellectual world. 

And you will understand that those who attain to this beatific vision are unwilling to descend to human affairs; but their souls are ever hastening into the upper world in which they desire to dwell. And is there anything surprising in one who passes from divine contemplations to human things, misbehaving himself in a ridiculous manner. 

There is nothing surprising in that, he replied. 

Any one who has common sense will remember that the bewilderments of the eyes are of two kinds, and arise from two causes, either from coming out of the light or from going into the light, which is true of the mind’s eye, quite as much as of the bodily eye; and he who remembers this when he sees the soul of any one whose vision is perplexed and weak, will not be too ready to laugh; he will first ask whether that soul has come out of the brighter life, and is unable to see because unaccustomed to the dark, or having turned from darkness to the day is dazzled by excess of light. And then he will count one happy in his condition and state of being.

Plato’s Allegory of the Cave, from Book VII of The Republic, describes prisoners chained in a cave, mistaking shadows on a wall for reality, and illustrates the philosopher’s journey from ignorance to enlightenment, representing the transformative power of education and the pursuit of truth beyond sensory perception.

Our first natural encounter is with the sensations. The next action naturally is to assimilate these sensations by resolving anomalies.

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Reference: Tertium Organum

NOTE: Text in color contains my comments.

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Chapter 12: Phenomena

Analysis of phenomena. What defines different orders of phenomena for us? Methods and forms of the transition of one order of phenomena into another. Phenomena of motion. Phenomena of life. Phenomena of consciousness. The central question of our knowledge of the world: what mode of phenomena is generic and produces the others? Can the origin of everything lie in motion? The laws of transformation of energy. Simple transformation and liberation of latent energy. Different liberating forces of different orders of phenomena. The force of mechanical energy, the force of a living cell, the force of an idea. Phenomena and noumena of our world.

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The order of phenomena is defined for us, first, by our method of apprehending them, and second, by the form of the transition of one order of phenomena into another. 

According to our method of apprehending them and by the form of their transition into one another we discern three orders of phenomena. 

Physical phenomena (i.e., all phenomena studied by physics and chemistry). Phenomena of life (all phenomena studied by biology and its subdivisions). Phenomena of consciousness (psychic and spiritual phenomena). 

We know physical phenomena by means of our sense organs or by the aid of apparatus. Many recognized physical phenomena are not observed directly; they are merely projections of the assumed causes of our sensations, or those of the causes of other phenomena. Physics recognizes the existence of many phenomena which have never been observed either by the sense organs or by means of apparatus (the temperature of absolute zero, for example etc.). 

The phenomena of life, as such, are not observed directly. We cannot project them as the cause of definite sensations. But certain groups of sensations force us to assume in certain groups of physical phenomena the presence of the phenomena of life. It may be said that a certain grouping of physical phenomena forces us to assume the presence of the phenomena of life. We define the cause of the phenomena of life as a something not capable of being grasped by the senses nor by apparatus, and incommensurable with the causes of physical sensations. The sign of the presence of the phenomena of life consists in the power of organisms to reproduce themselves, i.e., the multiplication of them in the same forms.

The phenomena of consciousness are the feelings and the thoughts that we know in ourselves by direct sensation subjectively. We assume their existence in others (1) from analogy with ourselves; (2) from their manifestation in actions and (3) from that which we gather by the aid of speech. But, as has been shown by certain philosophical theories, it is impossible to establish strictly objectively, the presence of consciousnesses other than our own. A man establishes this usually because of his inner assurance of its truth. 

Physical phenomena transform themselves into one another completely. It is possible to transform heat into light, pressure into motion, etc. It is possible to produce any physical phenomenon from other physical phenomena; to produce any chemical combination by the synthetic method, combining the composite parts in proper proportions and under proper physical conditions. Modern physics assumes electro-magnetic phenomena as the basis of all physical phenomena. But physical phenomena do not transform themselves into the phenomena of life. By no combination of physical conditions can science create life, just as by chemical synthesis it cannot create living matter—protoplasm. We can tell what amount of coal is necessary to generate the certain amount of heat necessary to transform a given quantity of ice into water; but we cannot tell what amount of coal is necessary to create the vital energy with which one living cell forms another living cell. In similar manner physical, chemical and mechanical phenomena cannot themselves produce the phenomena of consciousness, i.e., of thought. Were it otherwise, a rotating wheel, after the expenditure of a certain amount of energy, or after the lapse of a certain time, could generate an idea. Yet we know perfectly well that the wheel can go on rotating for millions of years, and no single idea will be produced by it at all. Thus we see that the phenomena of motion differ in a fundamental way from the phenomena of life and of consciousness.

The phenomena of life change into other phenomena of life, multiply infinitely, and transform themselves unto physical phenomena, generating whole series of mechanical and chemical combinations. The phenomena of life manifest themselves to us in physical phenomena, and in the existence of such phenomena. 

The phenomena of consciousness are sensed subjectively, and possessing enormous potential force, transform themselves into physical phenomena and into manifestations of life. We know that at the basis of our procreative force lies desire—that is, a psychical state, or a phenomenon of consciousness. Desire is possessed of enormous potential force. Out of the united desire of a man and of a woman, a whole nation may come into being. At the root of the active, constructive, creative force of man, that can change the course of rivers, unite oceans, cut through mountains, lies the will, i.e., again a psychical state, or a phenomenon of consciousness. Thus the phenomena of consciousness possess even greater unifying force with relation to physical phenomena than do the phenomena of life. 

Positive philosophy affirms that all three orders of phenomena proceed from one cause lying within the sphere of the study of physics. This cause is called by different names at different times, but it is assumed to be identical with physical energy in general. 

Seriously analyzing such an affirmation, it is easily seen to be absolutely arbitrary, and not founded upon anything. Physical phenomena of themselves, inside the limits of our existence and observation, never create the phenomena of life and the phenomena of consciousness. Consequently we may with greater right assume that in the phenomena of life and in the phenomena of consciousness there is something which does not exist in physical phenomena.

It appears that in the phenomena of life and in the phenomena of consciousness there is something which does not exist in physical phenomena. Actually, these different phenomena appear to be three different levels of understanding of the Universe.

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Moreover, we cannot measure physical, biological, and psychic (or spiritual) phenomena by the same unit of measurement. Or more correctly, we cannot measure the phenomena of life and the phenomena of consciousness at all. It is only the phenomena first mentioned, i.e., the physical, that we fancy we can measure, though this is very doubtful, too. 

In any case we undoubtedly know that we can expect neither the phenomena of life nor the phenomena of consciousness in the formulae of physical phenomena; and generally speaking we have for them no formulae at all.

In order to clarify the relation between phenomena of different kinds, let us examine in detail the laws of their transformation one into another. 

First of all it is necessary to consider physical phenomena, and make a detailed study of the conditions and properties of their transformation one into another. 

In an essay on Wundt (The Northern Messenger, 1888) A. L. Volinsky, elucidating the principles of Wundt’s physiological psychology, says: 

The actions of sensation are provoked by the actions of irritation. But both these actions need not be at all equal. It is possible to burn a whole city by a spark from a cigarette. It is necessary to understand why this is possible. Place a board upon the edge of some object scalewise, so that it will balance. On both ends of the board put now an equal amount of weight. The weights will not fall : although both of them will tend to fall, they balance one another. If we lift the least weight from one end of the board, then the other end will overbalance, and the board will fall—i.e., the force of gravity which existed before as an invisible tendency, will have become a visible motive force. If we put the board and weights on the earth, the force of gravity will not produce any action, but it will not be eliminated: it will only transform itself into other forces. 

Those forces which are only striving to produce motion are called constrained, or dead, forces. The forces which are actually manifesting themselves in certain definite actions are called free, or live forces; but as regards free forces it is necessary to differentiate those forces which are liberating, setting free, from the forces which are liberated, or set free. 

An enormous difference exists between the liberation of force and its transformation into another. 

When one kind of motion transforms itself into another kind, the amount of free force remains the same; and contrariwise, when one force liberates another, the amount of free force changes. The free force of an irritation liberates the tied-up forces of a nerve. And this liberation of tied-up forces is proceeding at each point of the nerve. The first motion increases like a fire, like a snow-slide carrying along with it new and ever new snow drifts. It is for this reason that the action (phenomenon) of sensation need not be exactly equal to the action of irritation. 

Let us look more broadly at the relation between liberated and liberating forces in the different kinds of phenomena. 

We shall discover that sometimes an almost negligible amount of physical force may liberate an enormous, a colossal quantity of physical energy. But all that we can ever assemble of physical force is powerless to liberate a single iota of that vital energy necessary for the independent existence of a single microscopic living organism.

The force contained in living organisms, the vital force, is capable of liberating infinitely greater amounts of vital and also of physical energy than the force of motion. 

The microscopic living cell is capable of infinite dissemination, to evolve new species, to cover continents with vegetation, to fill the oceans with seaweed, to build islands out of coral, to deposit powerful layers of coal, etc., etc. 

Concerning the latent energy contained in the phenomena of consciousness, i.e., in thoughts, feelings, desires, and in will, we discover that its potentiality is even more immeasurable, more boundless. From personal experience, from observation, from history, we know that ideas, feelings, will, manifesting themselves, can liberate enormous quantities of energy, and create infinite series of phenomena. An idea can act for centuries and millenniums and only grow and deepen, evoking ever new series of phenomena, liberating ever fresh energy. We know that thoughts continue to live and act when even the very name of the man who created them has been converted into a myth, like the names of the founders of ancient religions, the creators of the immortal poetical works of antiquity—heroes, leaders, prophets. Their words are repeated by innumerable lips, their ideas are studied and commented upon. Their preserved works are translated, printed, read, studied, staged, illustrated. And this is done not only with the masterpieces of men of genius, but some single little verse may live millenniums, making hundreds of men work for it, serve it, in order to transmit it further. 

Observe how much of potential energy there is in some little verse of Pushkin or Lermontoff: This energy acts not only upon the feelings of men, but by reason of its very existence it acts upon their will. See how vital and immortal are the words, thoughts and feelings of half-mythical Homer—how much of “motion” each word of his, during the time of its existence, has evoked. 

Undoubtedly each thought of a poet contains enormous potential force, like the power confined in a piece of coal or in a living cell, but infinitely more subtle, imponderable and potent.

This remarkable correlation of phenomena may be expressed in the following terms: the farther a given phenomenon is from the visible and sensed—from the physical—the farther it is from matter, the more there is in it of hidden force, the greater the quantity of phenomena it can produce, can leave in its wake, the greater amount of energy it can liberate, and so the less it is dependent upon time.

The farther a given phenomenon is from the physical, the more there is in it of hidden force, the greater amount of energy it can liberate, and so the less it is dependent upon time.

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If we would correlate all of the above with the principle of physics that the amount of energy is constant, then we must state more exactly that in the preceding discussion nothing has been said of the creation of new energy, but of the liberation of latent force. And we have found that the liberating force of life and thought is infinitely greater than the liberating force of mechanical motion and of chemical reactions. The microscopic living cell is more powerful than a volcano—the idea is more powerful than the geological cataclysm. 

The principle of physics that the amount of energy is constant, has to be related to the ultimate balance of the principle of Oneness (continuity, consistency and harmony).

Having established these differences between phenomena, let us endeavor to discover what phenomena themselves represent, taken by themselves, independently of our receptivity and sensation of them. 

We at once discover that we know nothing about them. 

We know a phenomenon just as much and just as far as it is irritation, i.e., to the extent that it provokes sensation. 

The positivistic philosophy sees mechanical motion or electromagnetic energy as the basis of all phenomena. But the hypothesis of vibrating atoms or of units of energy—electrons and cycles of motion, combinations of which create different “phenomena”—is only an hypothesis, built upon a perfectly arbitrary and artificial assumption concerning the existence of the world in time and space. Just as soon as we discover that the conditions of time and space are merely the properties of our sensuous receptivity, we absolutely destroy the validity of the hypothesis of “energy” as the foundation of everything; because time and space are necessary for energy, i.e., it is necessary for time and space to be properties of the world and not properties of consciousness. 

Thus in reality we know nothing about the causes of phenomena. 

The basis of all phenomena is the postulate of substance (matter… radiation… thought). From the postulate of substance proceed the postulates of time, space, and motion.

We do know that some combinations of causes, acting through the organism upon our consciousness, produce the series of sensations which we recognize as a green tree. But we do not know if this perception of a tree corresponds to the real substance of the causes which evoked this sensation. 

The question concerning the relation of the phenomenon to the thing-in-itself, i.e., to the indwelling reality, has been from far back the chief and most difficult concern of philosophy. Can we, studying phenomena, get at the very cause of them, at the very substance of things? Kant has said definitely: No!—by studying phenomena we do not even approach to the understanding of things in themselves. Recognizing the correctness of Kant’s view, if we desire to approach to an understanding of things in themselves, we must seek an entirely different method, an utterly different path from that which positive science is treading, which studies phenomena.

The increasing assimilation of sensations has been guiding us toward the ultimate understanding of the indwelling reality of things in themselves.

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Reference: Tertium Organum

NOTE: Text in color contains my comments.

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Chapter 10: Motion

The spatial understanding of time. The angles and curves of the fourth dimension in our life. Does motion exist in the world or not? Mechanical motion and “life.” Biological phenomena as the manifestation of motions going on in the higher dimension. Evolution of the space-sense. The growth of the space-sense and the diminution of the time-sense. The transformation of the time-sense into the space-sense. The difficulties of our language and of our concepts. The necessity for seeking a method of spatial expression for temporal concepts. Science in relation to the fourth dimension. The solid of four dimensions. The four-dimensional sphere.

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Now, from the basis of those conclusions already made, let us seek to define how we may discover the real four-dimensional world obscured for us by the illusory three-dimensional world. “See” it we may by two methods—either by sensing it directly, by developing the “space-sense” and other higher faculties, which will be discussed later; or by understanding it mentally by a perception of its possible properties through the exercise of the reason. 

By abstract reasoning, we have already come to the conclusions that the fourth dimension of space must lie in time, i.e., that time is the fourth dimension of space. We have discovered psychological proofs of this thesis. Comparing the receptivity of the world by living beings of different grades of consciousness snail, dog and man—we have seen how different for them are the properties of one and the same world; namely, those properties which are expressed for us in the concepts of time and space. We have seen that time and space are sensed by each in a different manner: that what for the lower being (the snail) is time, for the being standing one degree higher (the dog) becomes space, and that the time of this being becomes space to a being standing still higher—man. 

This is a confirmation of the supposition previously expressed, that our idea of time is complex in its substance, and that in it are properly included two ideas—that of a certain space and that of motion upon this space. Or to put the matter more exactly, the contact with a certain space of which we are not clearly conscious calls forth in us the sensation of motion upon that space; and all this taken together, i.e., the unclear consciousness of a certain space and the sensation of motion upon that space, we call time.

This last confirms the conception that the idea of time has not arisen from the observation of motion existing in nature, but that the very sensation and idea of motion has arisen from a “time-sense” existing in ourselves, which is an imperfect sense of space: the fringe, or limit of our space-sense. 

The snail feels the line as space, i.e., as something constant. It feels the rest of the world as time, i.e., as something eternally moving. The horse feels the plane as space. It feels the rest of the world as time. 

We feel an infinite sphere as space; the rest of the world, that which was yesterday and that which will be tomorrow, we feel as time. 

In other words, every being feels as space that which is grasped by his space-sense: the rest he refers to time; i.e., the imperfectly felt is referred to time. Or it is possible to formulate the matter thus every being feels as space that which, by the aid of his space-sense he is able to represent to himself in form, outside of himself; and that which he is not able thus to represent he feels as time, i.e., eternally moving, impermanent, so unstable that it is impossible to imagine it in terms of form. 

THE SENSE OF SPACE (SPACE-SENSE) IS THE POWER OF REPRESENTATION BY MEANS OF FORM.

The sensations that are assimilated and acquire firm form, appear as space. But vague sensations that are still shifting, appear as time.

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The “infinite sphere” by which we represent the universe to ourselves is constantly and continuously changing: in every consecutive moment it is not that which it was before. A constant change of pictures, images, relations, is going on therein. It is for us as it were the screen of a cinematograph upon which the swiftly running images of pictures appear and disappear. 

But where are the pictures themselves? Where is the light throwing the image upon the screen? Whence do the pictures come, and where do they go? 

If the “infinite sphere” is the screen of the cinematograph so our consciousness is the light, penetrating through our psyche: i.e., through the stores of our impressions (pictures) it (the light) throws upon the screen their images which we call life.

But where do the impressions come to us from? 

From the same screen. 

And herein dwells the most incomprehensible mystery of life as we see it. We are creating it and we are receiving everything from it. 

Imagine a man sitting in the ordinary moving picture theatre. Imagine that he knows nothing of the construction of the cinematograph, nothing of the existence of the lantern behind his back, nor of the small transparent picture on the moving film. Let us imagine that he wants to study the cinematograph, and begins to study that which proceeds on the screen, to make notes, to take pictures, to observe the order, to calculate, to construct hypotheses, and so forth. 

At what will he arrive? 

Evidently at nothing at all, unless he will turn his back to the screen, and will begin to study the cause of the appearance of the pictures upon the screen. The cause is confined in the lantern (i.e., in consciousness) and in the moving films of pictures (in the psyche) . These it is necessary to study, desiring to understand the “cinematograph.” 

Positive philosophy studies only the screen and the pictures passing upon it. For this reason for it remains the eternal enigma wherefrom are the pictures coming and where are they going, and why are they coming and going instead of remaining eternally the same? 

But it is necessary to study the cinematograph beginning with the source of light, i.e., with consciousness, then to pass on to the pictures on the moving film, and only after that to study the projected image. 

These vague shifting forms simply mean that we are unable to bring clarity to them by assimilating them better. We need to study the process of assimilation, which brings about clarity.

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We have established that the animal (the horse, the cat, the dog) must perceive the immobile angles and curves of the third dimension as motion, i.e., as temporal phenomena. 

The question arises: do not we perceive as motion, i.e., as temporal phenomena, the immobile angles and curves of the fourth dimension? We ordinarily say that our sensations are the moments of the apprehension of certain changes proceeding outside of us; such are sound, light, etc., all “vibrations of the ether.” But what are these “changes?” Perhaps in reality there are no changes at all. Perhaps the immobile sides and angles of certain things which exist outside of us—of certain things which we know nothing about—only appear to us as motions, i.e., as changes.

It may be that our consciousness, not being able to embrace these things with the aid of the organs of sense, and to represent them to itself in their entirety, just as they are, and grasping only the separate moments of its contact with them, is constructing the illusion of motion, and conceives that something is moving outside of it (of consciousness), i.e., that the “things” are themselves moving. 

If such is the case, then “motion” must be in reality something only “derived,” arising in our intellect during its contact with things which it does not grasp in their totality. Let us imagine that we are approaching an unknown city, and that it is slowly “growing up” before us as we approach. It appears to us as though it is really growing up, i.e., as though it did not exist before. There disappeared the river, which was visible for so long a time; there appeared the bell-tower, which was invisible before. . . Such, exactly, is our relation to time, which is a continual coming—arising, as it were, from nothing and going into naught. 

Every thing lies for us in time, and only the section of the thing lies in space. Transferring our consciousness from the section of the thing to those parts of it which lie in time, we receive the illusion of motion on the part of the thing itself. 

It is possible to formulate the matter thus: the sensation of motion is the consciousness of the transition from space to time, i.e., from a clear space-sense to one which is unclear. With this in mind it is not difficult to realize that we are receiving as sensations, and projecting into the outside world as phenomena, the immobile angles and curves of the fourth dimension. 

On this account is it not necessary and possible to recognize that the world is immobile and constant, and that it seems to us to be moving and evolving simply because we are looking at it through the narrow slit of our sensuous receptivity? 

We are returning again to the question, what is the world and what is consciousness? But now the question concerning the relation of our consciousness to the world is beginning to be formulated for us.

If the world is a Great Something, possessing the consciousness of itself, so are we rays of that consciousness, self-conscious, but unconscious of the whole.

The firm reality of the fourth-dimension is out there; but it is not assimilated enough for us to perceive it with clarity.

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If there be no motion, if it be an illusion, then we must search further—whence could this illusion have arisen? 

The phenomena of life—biological phenomena—much resemble the transition through our space of certain four-dimensional circles, the circles being extremely complicated, every one consisting of a great number of interlaced lines. 

The life of a man or of any other living being suggests a complicated circle. It begins always at one point (birth) and ends always at one point (death) . We have complete justification for supposing that it is one and the same point. The circles are large and small, but they begin and end similarly, and they end at the same point where they began, i.e., at the point of non-existence, from the physico-biological standpoint, or of some existence other than the psychological one. 

What is the biological phenomenon, the phenomenon of life? Our science does not answer this question. This is the enigma. In the living organism, in the living cell, in the living protoplasm there is something indefinable, differentiating living matter from dead matter. We recognize this something only by its functions. The chief of these functions is the power of self-reproduction—absent in the dead organism, the dead cell, dead matter. 

The living organism multiplies infinitely, incorporating and assimilating dead matter into itself. This ability to reproduce itself and to absorb dead matter with its mechanical laws is the inexplicable function of “life,” showing that life is not simply a complex of mechanical forces, as the positivist philosophy attempts to prove. 

This thesis, that life is not a complex of mechanical forces, is corroborated also by the incommensurability of the phenomena of mechanical motion with the phenomena of life. Life phenomena cannot be expressed in terms of mechanical energy, calories of heat or units of horse power, Nor can the phenomena of life be artificially created by the physico-chemical method. 

If we shall regard every separate life as a circle of the fourth dimension, this will make clear to us why every circle is inevitably escaping from our space. This happens because the circle inevitably ends in the same point at which it began, and the “life” of the separate being, beginning with birth, must end in death, which is the return to the point of departure. But during its transit through our space, the circle puts forth from itself certain lines, which, uniting with others, yield new circles.

In reality of course all this proceeds quite otherwise: nothing is born and nothing dies ; it only so represents itself to us, because we see but the sections of things. In reality, the circle of life is only the section of something, and that something undoubtedly exists before birth, i.e., before the appearance of the circle in our space, and continues to exist after death, i.e., after the disappearance of the circle from the field of our vision. 

To our observation the phenomena of life are similar to the phenomena of motion as these appear to the two-dimensional being; and therefore it may be that this is “the motion in the fourth dimension.” 

We have seen that the two-dimensional being is bound to regard the properties of the three-dimensionality of solids as motions, and the real motions of solids, going on in the higher space as the phenomena of life. 

In other words, that motion which remains a motion in the higher space appears to the lower being as a phenomenon of life, and that which disappears in the higher space, transforming itsself into the property of an immobile solid, appears to the lower being as mechanical motion. 

The phenomena of “life” and the phenomena of “motion” are just as incommensurable for us as are the two kinds of motion in its world for the two-dimensional being; one of these motions being real and the other illusory. 

Hinton says of this incommensurability: “There is something in life not included in our conceptions of mechanical movement. Is this something a four-dimensional movement? 

If we look at it from the broadest point of view there is something striking in the fact that where life comes in there arises an entirely different set of phenomena from those of the inorganic world.”

Upon this basis it is justifiable to assume that those phenomena which we call the phenomena of life are movements in higher space. Those phenomena which we call mechanical motion become in turn the phenomena of life in a space lower relatively to ours, and in one higher—simply the properties of immobile solids. This means that if we consider three kinds of existence—the two-dimensional, ours, and the higher dimensional—then it will appear that the “motion” which is observed by the two dimensional being in two-dimensional space, is for us a property of immobile solids; “life” as it is apprehended in two-dimensional space, is “motion”as we observe it in our space. Moreover, motions in three-dimensional space, i.e., all our mechanical motions and the manifestations of physico-chemical forces—light, sound, heat, etc.,—are only our sensations of some to us incomprehensible properties of four-dimensional solids; and our “phenomena of life” are the motions of solids of higher space which appear to us as the birth, growth, and life of living beings. But if we presuppose a space not of four, but of five dimensions, then in it the “phenomena of life” would probably appear as the properties of immobile solids—genus, species, families, peoples, races, and so forth and motions would seem perhaps, only the phenomena of thought.

What we see as “mechanical motion” may appear as immobile solids in four-dimensions. What we see as life may appear as real motion in four-dimensions.

An example of “mechanical motion” would be people reacting in the same manner under same kind of stimuli even when the situation is different. These would be “fixations” in four-dimensions. But when a person is rationally resolving anomalies one after another, it would become smooth motion in four-dimensions.

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We know that the phenomena of motion or the manifestations of energy are involved with the expenditure of time, and we see how, with the gradual transcendence of the lower space by the higher, motion disappears, being converted into the properties of immobile solids; i.e., the expenditure of time disappears—and the necessity for time. To the two-dimensional being time is necessary for the understanding of the most simple phenomena an angle, a hill, a ditch. For us time is not necessary for the understanding of such phenomena, but it is necessary for the explanation of the phenomena of motion and physical phenomena. In a space still higher, our phenomena of motion and physical phenomena would probably be regarded independently of time, as properties of immobile solids; and biological phenomena—birth, growth, reproduction, death—would be regarded as phenomena of motion. 

Thus we see how the idea of time recedes with the expansion of consciousness. 

We see its complete conditionality. 

We see that by time are designated the characteristics of a space relatively higher than a given space—i.e., the characteristics of the perceptions of a consciousness relatively higher than a given consciousness. 

For the one-dimensional being all the indices of two, three, four-dimensional space and beyond, lie in time—all this is time. For the two-dimensional being time embraces within itself the indices of three-dimensional space, four-dimensional space, and all spaces beyond. For man, i.e., the three-dimensional being, time contains the indices of four-dimensional space and all spaces beyond. 

Therefore, according to the degree of expansion and elevation of the consciousness and the forms of its receptivity the indices of space are augmented and the indices of time are diminished. 

In other words, the growth of the space sense is proceeding at the expense of the time-sense. Or one may say that the time-sense is an imperfect space-sense (i.e., an imperfect power of representation which, being perfected, translates itself into the space-sense, i.e., into the power of representation in forms. 

If, taking as a foundation the principles elucidated here, we attempt to represent to ourselves the universe very abstractly, it is clear that this will be quite other than the universe which we are accustomed to imagine to ourselves. Everything will exist in it always. 

This will be the universe of the Eternal Now of Hindu philosophy a universe in which will be neither before nor after, in which will be just one present, known or unknown. 

Hinton feels that with the expansion of the space-sense our vision of the world will change completely, and he tells about this in his book, “A New Era of Thought.” (p. 66.) 

The conception which we shall form of the universe will undoubtedly be as different from our present one, as the Copernican view differs from the more pleasant view of a wide, immovable earth beneath a vast vault. Indeed, any conception of our place in the universe will be more agreeable than the thought of being on a spinning ball, kicked into space without any means of communication with any other inhabitants of the universe.

“Time as duration” is a very specific dimension. We may call it DURATION and identify it as the 4th dimension of space. But, Time is perceived as “motion” in terms of shifting attention it indicates higher dimensions that are not fully understood. Currently, the biological phenomena falls under that category.

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But what does the world of many dimensions represent in itself—what are these solids of many dimensions the lines and boundaries of which we perceive as motion? 

A great power of imagination is necessary to transcend the limits of our perceptions and to mentally visualize the world in other categories even for a moment.

Let us imagine some object, say a book outside of time and space What will this last mean? Were we to take the book out of time and space it would mean that all books which have existed, exist now, and will exist, exist together, i.e., occupy one and the same place and exist simultaneously, forming as it were one book which includes within itself the properties, characteristics and peculiarities of all books possible in the world. When we say simply, a book, we have in mind something possessing the common characteristics of all books—this is a concept. But that book about which we are talking now, possesses not only these common characteristics but the individual characteristics of all separate books. 

Let us take other things—a table, a house, a tree, a man. Let us imagine them out of time and space. The mind will have to open its doors to objects each possessing such an enormous, such an infinite number of signs and characteristics that to comprehend them by means of the reason is absolutely impossible. And if one wants to comprehend them by his reason he will certainly be forced to dismember these objects somehow, to take them at first in some one sense, from one side, in one section of their being. What is “man” out of space and time? He is all humanity, man as the “species “—Homo Sapiens, but at the same time possessing the characteristics, peculiarities and individual ear-marks of all separate men. This is you, and I, and Julius Caesar and the conspirators who killed him, and the newsboy I pass every day—all kings, all slaves, all saints, all sinners—all taken together, fused into one indivisible being of a man, like a great living tree in which are bark, wood, and dry twigs; green leaves, flowers and fruit. Is it possible to conceive of and understand such a being by our reason? 

The idea of such a “great being” inspired the artist or artists who created the Sphinx. 

When I saw the great Sphinx adjacent to the pyramids tor the first time, not in a picture, but in reality, I felt that it represented “humanity,” or the “human race” or “Man’ in general—that being with the body of an animal and the face of a superman.

When taken out of time and space, an object becomes a superset of all such objects in existence, because each of them can then be derived from it.

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But what is motion? Why do we feel it if it does not exist? About this last, Mabel Collins, a theosophical writer of the first period of modern theosophy, writes very beautifully in her poetical “Story of the Year.”

. . . The entire true meaning of the earthly life consists only in the mutual contact between personalities and in the efforts of growth. Those things which are called events and circumstances and which are regarded as the real contents of life—are in reality only the conditions which make these contacts and this growth possible.

In these words there sounds already quite a new understanding of the real. And truly the illusion of motion cannot arise out of nothing. When we are travelling by train, and the trees are running, overtaking one another, we know that this motion is an illusory one, that the trees are immobile, and that the illusion of their motion is created by our own. 

As in these particular cases, so also in general as regards all motion in the material world, the foundation of which the “positivists” consider to be motion in the finest particles of matter, we, recognizing this motion as an illusory one, shall ask: Is not an illusion of this motion created by some motion inside our consciousness. 

So it shall be. 

And having established this, we shall endeavor to define what kind of motion is going on inside our consciousness, i.e., what is moving relatively to what? 

H. P. Blavatsky, in her first book, “Isis Unveiled”, touched upon the same question concerning the relation of life to time and motion. She writes: 

As our planet revolves every year around the sun and at the same time turns once in every twenty-four hours upon its own axis, thus traversing minor cycles within a larger one, so is the work of the smaller cyclic periods accomplished and recommenced. 

The revolution of the physical world, according to the ancient doctrine, is attended by a like revolution in the world of intellect—the spiritual evolution of the world proceeding in cycles, like the physical one.

Thus we see in history a regular alternation of ebb and flow in the tide of human progress. The great kingdoms and empires of the world, after reaching the culmination of their greatness, descend again in accordance with the same law by which they ascended; till, having reached the lowest point, humanity reasserts itself and mounts up once more, the height of its attainment being, by this law of ascending progression by cycles, somewhat higher than the point from which it had before descended.

The division of the history of mankind into Golden, Silver, Copper and Iron Ages, is not a fiction. We see the same thing in the literature of peoples. An age of great inspiration and unconscious productiveness is invariably followed by an age of criticism and consciousness. The one affords material for the analyzing and critical intellect of the other. 

Thus all those great characters who tower like giants in the history of mankind, like Buddha-Siddartha, and Jesus, in the realm of spiritual, and Alexander the Macedonian and Napoleon the Great, in the realm of physical conquests, were but reflexed images of human types which had existed ten thousand years before, in the preceding decimillennium, reproduced by the mysterious powers controlling the destinies of our world. There is no prominent character in all the annals of sacred or profane history whose prototype we cannot find in the half-fictitious and half-real traditions of bygone religions and mythologies. As the star, glimmering at an immeasurable distance above our heads, in the boundless immensity of the sky, reflects itself in the smooth waters of a lake, so does the imagery of men of the antediluvian ages reflect itself in the periods we can embrace in an historical retrospect. 

As above, so below. That which has been will return again. As in heaven, so on earth. 

Anything that can be said about the understanding of temporal relations is inevitably extremely vague. This is because our language is absolutely inadequate to the spatial expression of temporal relations. We lack the necessary words for it, we have no verbal forms, strictly speaking, for the expression of these relations which are new to us, and some other quite new forms—not verbal—are indispensable. The language for the transmission of the new temporal relations must be a language without verbs. New parts of speech are necessary, an infinite number of new words. At present, in our human language, we can speak about “time” by hints only. Its true essence is inexpressible for us. 

We should never forget about this inexpressibility. This is the sign of the truth, the sign of reality. That which can be expressed, cannot be true. 

All systems dealing with the relation of the human soul to time—all ideas of post-mortem existence, the theory of re-incarnation, that of the transmigration of souls, that of karma all these are symbols, trying to transmit relations which cannot be expressed directly because of the poverty and the weakness of our language. They should not be understood literally any more than it is possible to understand the symbols and allegories of art literally. It is necessary to search for their hidden meanings, that which cannot be expressed in words.

The literal understanding of these symbolical forms in the latest theosophical literature, and the union with them of ideas of “evolution” and “morals” taken in the most narrow, dualistic meaning, completely disfigures the inner content of these forms, and deprives them of their value and meaning.

Awareness of motion makes growth possible. It indicates the presence of deeper truths and newer dimensions that are yet to be expressed for fuller understanding. Maybe those truths exist in symbolical and mythological forms. They need to be expressed more scientifically to become more useful. This is the direction of evolution.

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