XXVII
MATERIAL THINGS

 

A DOUBT had entered my mind. Had the intricacies of the philosophy invited coloring? I would ask Stephen. But might not the question be futile? How could I be sure the answer itself would be uninfluenced by Joan's personal opinion?

 

The evening Stephen announced matter as the subject of discussion I said to him, "If you really do see, as you say you do, read the words I am about to write out, and answer the question they ask."

I wrote this question, "Has the philosophy you have given Joan and me been colored?"

"Stephen," I said, "can you read the words I have written?"

"But surely," he replied. "But I cannot answer your question at this time. The receiving station realizes that a test is being imposed. I'll try to get the answer through in the midst of other matter."

 

I was skeptical of the outcome. At last, I thought, I had cornered this Stephen who sees, but is himself unseen. And yet before the evening was over he had answered my question.

 

He was saying, "Men imagine that materiality is a fundamental." He hesitated a moment, I remember. Then he continued: "Could they see matter as it really is, they would understand that the thing they have been calling matter is in reality an attribute of a fundamental.—There is no coloring to speak of.—That fundamental is consciousness, consciousness in degrees."

 

Beyond doubt my question had been answered. Was there really a Stephen and had he really seen my written words, unseen surely by the blindfolded Joan?

 

The happening suggested another experiment. If it was possible for Stephen to read words unseen by Joan, would it not also be possible for Joan, acting under his direction, to imitate any gesture I might make, such as the opening and closing of my hand?

 

"Let's try," said Stephen. "I am in good control of the station to-night. Because she has no interest whatever in the subject of matter, her conscious mind is more dormant than usual."

 

To make doubly sure that Joan could see nothing, I reinforced the blindfold she customarily wore with a second handkerchief.

 

Then, in silence, I raised my hand to my forehead. Joan hesitated a moment, brought her hand half-way up, paused, then executed a most military salute. Next I raised my arm and held my hand on the level of my shoulder. Joan held her hand out, but raised it only halfway to shoulder level. I then leaned over as though to pick something up from the floor. Joan seemed confused, but after a while she, too, leaned over in her chair and reached toward the floor. I raised both hands over my head. Joan made a motion as though to Imitate me, but before her hands reached far she dropped them listlessly in her lap. I tried other gestures, but none of them was imitated.

 

Finally Stephen spoke. "That is enough," he said. "The experiment succeeded better than I thought it would. Now let us go on with the discussion."

 

And so we resumed our talk on the nature of matter, the discussion extending over several evenings. From time to time I would touch Joan's wrist, thus signaling a break in the communication, and would read her Stephen's words. "Pointless theories!" she would exclaim. Stephen, on re­establishment of communication, would ask me to assure Joan for him that in the end she would recognize practical worth in his theories. Once the professor appeared and said: "Let Joan have patience.

 

For the proper exposition of a thought of any complexity it is essential that an adequate foundation be laid."

 

Even so, Joan's impatience was, I am sure, justified. My failure readily to understand the corollaries of Stephen's saying, "Matter is the form attribute of consciousness," resulted in many repetitions both in the questions I asked and in Stephen's answers. I offer here but a summary of the discussion.

 

Asserting matter to be the form attribute of consciousness, Stephen stated that form is characteristic of all consciousness—of that consciousness which is the stone, of human consciousness, of graduated consciousness. Human consciousness has a form, or materiality, invisible to the human eye; this is, of course, distinct from the physical body. Stephen's consciousness likewise possesses a material form, and this, too, is ordinarily invisible to the eye of man.

 

"Now," said Stephen, "you can see the form of the lower degree of consciousness which you call matter. Because the form of the stone is all you do see you mistake that form, that attribute, for reality itself. In truth, though, the reality of the stone is none other in kind than your own self of self. It is consciousness, an infinitely low degree."

 

Again he said:

 

"I have already referred to the fact that many physicists regard light as a form of electrical energy. That is to say, light and electricity are held to be one and the same thing, differing not in kind, but in degree. And yet to your every-day senses, and those even of the scientists, light and electricity remain, as before, two entirely distinct entities.

 

"if, then, you are willing in the one case, that of electricity and light, to throw aside the testimony of your senses, and accept instead the experimentally deduced conclusions of science, must you struggle over-much in accepting the likeness in kind of all energy? If light and electricity are degree manifestations of one fundamental, may it not be that gravitation and the many other apparently distinct energies are further degrees thereof? Now, could you see matter in what, for your understanding, I have called its component parts, you would the more readily grasp the thought of a fundamental inclusive, not only of force, but of matter itself."

 

Later he said: "Occasionally science glimpses matter as a complex of stress knots—one might say, force ganglia. That is a very wonderful glimpse. Yet, with the force theory of matter demonstrated, science would scarcely have solved any metaphysical problem. Surely we could substitute the word 'force' for 'matter' throughout this discussion, and our argument would lose none of its controversy, as, indeed, we could substitute the word 'reason' or the word 'will.' Force is an attribute of consciousness just as truly as is matter or will."

 

"And yet," I said, "reducing matter to terms of force does help to elucidate your contention that the fundamental of human consciousness and the fundamental of matter are alike in kind. Consciousness as spirituality is force after a fashion; it is at least analogous to force in a way matter doesn't seem to be. But if matter can be scientifically defined as an appearance set up by combinations of forces unseen as such by men, then it is much easier to understand the likeness in kind of matter and life."

 

"It is fine to hear you say so," Stephen said. "I can appreciate the difficulty you encounter when you attempt to apply the word 'consciousness' to inanimate matter. But you realize that I do not mean to say that inanimate matter possesses self-awareness. I say only that that degree of the one reality which manifests itself to you materially is possessed of the potentiality of self-awareness."

 

He added: "Many attempts have been made to explain the one reality in terms of matter and force. But why define reality in its lowest terms? I choose to define it in terms of its highest earth development, man's self of self.