XVI
THE NEW LAW OF PARALLELS
MY subconscious mind was not, of
course, the author of Stephen's philosophic discourse; this subsequently
was made clear by our discovery that Joan, not I, was the psychic. At
the time, though, it did seem that, if the phenomenon of Stephen's
philosophy was to be explained on a basis of subconsciousness, my
subliminal, not Joan's, was implicated Joan had never read a line of
metaphysics; I had. Certainly I had neither read nor independently
contrived the thoughts the ouija-board gave expression to. Nonetheless,
I detected in Stephen's words an evolutionary viewpoint that, in a way,
seemed to crystallize certain
vague ideas of my own.
Joan and I have been of the
Sunday-morning-go-to-church type. Her attendance was sincere; the church
answered satisfactorily enough such questions concerning life as she
cared to ask. I attended
because Joan did and because, in truth, the church answered many of
my own questions. But occasionally the sermons offended me greatly, especially when
they carried reference to man as a
"fallen creature."
It seemed to me inconceivable that
religion could so lag behind laboratory truths. When would the church
forget its ancient tradition? Could it not perceive that man is a risen
creature, that throughout the ages he has struggled always upward, that,
instead of having origin in a state of perfection from which in the
perverseness of his heart he fell, he was
formed in a state of undevelopment out of which he is evolving
perfection? Man, I knew, has climbed
well, considering that when he started the ascent he was not man at all,
but an immeasurably low form of life. He would, I believed, continue to
climb.
But this belief of mine was not
wholly cheering. After all, evolution promised a glorious future only to
mankind. Death, so far as I could see, cut short the individual man's
progress summarily enough.
Indeed, there was really no great
resemblance between my thought and Stephen's. He, like the church, was
victor over death; I had ceased to hope for individual immortality. How
could my subconsciousness differ so radically from my conscious
conclusions?
Subconscious mind or no, with Stephen
relating
God up to what he termed the supreme
degree of consciousness, with his postulating the germ of supreme
consciousness in all animate things, and inanimate, it seemed quite the
most natural thing in the world that I should ask, when next we talked
with him., "Stephen, is the theory of evolution a glimpse?"
"There are two great glimpses," the
ouija-board answered. "Evolution is one of these. In his social
development man had courted differentiation. Out of the simplicity of
tribal life he has evolved the complexities of civilization. The race
has unconsciously followed the law which your modern scientist has
consciously checked up: Out of the simple, the complex; out of the lower
degree, the higher."
"True," I said, "but what help is
that to the individual Joan and the individual me? Through evolution the
race may become perfect. But
Joan and I, we
die."
"Wait!" the tripod replied. "Your
science knows but half of evolution. I hope to be able to explain to
you, before long, the other half.
"Successful in the explanation of
biological development, the theory of evolution gains wider and wider
application in interpreting
the special activities of life—politics, industry, the
arts, religion. And in the so-called
material sciences, in physics
and chemistry, it is being more and more recognized as
equally operative. In inorganic matter evolution finds one expression;
in the reproductive processes of life, another; in the intellectual and
moral phases of human
endeavor, still another. Always it is the
same law; its varying manifestations parallel each other. Now, here where
I am there are laws, just as natural as yours— though you may prefer to
term them supernatural—which parallel the laws, evolution included, of the earth-plane."
"Do you mean," I asked, "that
spiritual law is simply a more complex expression of material law, and
that the law of your plane is
but a parallel of the natural or earth-plane law?"
"Parallelism, so defined," Stephen
replied, is the second of the two great glimpses, the greatest really of
all glimpses. If earth scientists will free their minds of emotional
hypotheses and interpret psychological laws on the basis of so-called
material laws, they will lift assurance of the existence of my plane out
of the field of mystic belief into that of reasonable fact."
I tossed the ouija-board aside.
"Food for thought, Joan!" I said.
"You wouldn't care if I took
a
walk and tried to digest this Stephen thing's words?"
I put on my overcoat and stepped out
into the snow. "'Now, here
where I am,'" I quoted
as I tramped along, "'there are laws,
just as natural as yours, which parallel the laws, evolution included, of
the earthplane.'"
But the night was bright and the air
bracing. The streets were alive with amusement-going traffic. And soon,
under the commonplace influence of it all, I thought how musty it was to
sit indoors philosophizing with a ouija-board.
I hurried home and proposed a theater to Joan.
But when we returned we sat up until
three in the morning, discussing Stephen's philosophy, whether it would
hold out to a definite goal, and who, if not my subconscious mind, was its
author. Stephen certainly was not Stephen!
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