Part 2

For, as Silberer says, “The conflicts do not indeed lie in the external world, but in our _emotional disposition towards it_; if we change this disposition by an inner development, the external world has a different value....”

Man is indeed his own cosmos, the microcosm of the macrocosm, to a degree incomprehensible to one who has not intelligently studied (and in himself) the phenomena of “projection,” and compensation including sublimation.

The great mystics of all ages, through introversion, having discovered this and reduced it to a science, after their fashion, great modern scientists like Jung and Silberer have found their systems worthy of profound study.

Writing of mysticism, Professor Dwelshauvers of Brussels says:

“The effects of mystic union are logical and coherent; a second quality of the acts of the order of grace is the positive character of the contribution, the increase which they bring to the psychic life of those who benefit by them.... The idea of God, the divine presence, or any other form of inspiration, is no more strange to the mind of the religious man than is for the _savant_ the sudden conception of a solution long sought for, or for the artist the vision of the work which he meditates and of which he pursues the construction with patience and tenacity.... Neither the invasion of the soul by God, nor the ‘return’ of the mystics, has any resemblance to mental disintegration.”

It is not easy to get rid of God.

Will you read what Jung says on this subject in the “Collected Papers on Analytical Psychology,” edited by Dr. Constance E. Long:

“The concept of God is simply a necessary psychological function.... The _concensus gentium_ has spoken of gods for æons past, and will be speaking of them in æons to come. Beautiful and perfect as man may think his reason, he may nevertheless assure himself that it is only one of the possible mental functions, coinciding merely with the corresponding side of the phenomena of the universe. All around is the irrational, that which is not congruous with reason. And this irrationalism is likewise a psychological function, namely the absolute unconscious; whilst the function of consciousness is essentially rational.... Heraclitus, the ancient, that really very wise man, discovered the most wonderful of all psychological laws, namely, the _regulating function of antithesis_. He termed this enantiodromia’ (clashing together) by which he meant that at some time everything meets with its opposite.... Man may not _identify_ himself with reason, for he is not wholly a rational being, and never can or ever will become one. That is a fact of which every pedant of civilization should take note. What is irrational cannot and may not be stamped out. The gods cannot and may not die. Woe betide those men who have disinfected heaven with rationalism; God-Almightiness has entered into them, because they would not admit God as an absolute function.... Only he escapes from the cruel law of enantiodromia who knows how to separate himself from the unconscious--not by repressing it, for then it seizes him from behind--_but by presenting it visibly to himself as something that is totally different from him_.... He must learn to differentiate in his thoughts between what is the ego and what is the non-ego. The latter is the collective psyche or absolute unconscious.... In order to differentiate the psychological ego from the psychological non-ego, man must necessarily stand _upon firm feet_ in his ego-function....

“Obviously the depreciation and repression of such a powerful function as that of religion has serious consequences for the psychology of the individual.... One period of skepticism came to a close with the horrors of the French revolution. At the present time we are again experiencing an ebullition of the unconscious destructive powers of the collective psyche. The result is an unparalleled general slaughter. That is just what the unconscious was tending towards. This tendency had previously been inordinately strengthened by the rationalism of modern life, which by depreciating everything irrational caused the function of irrationalism to sink into the unconscious....”

“There is indeed no possible alternative but to acknowledge irrationalism as a psychological function that is necessary and always existent. Its results are not to be taken as concrete realities (that would involve repression), but as _psychological realities_. They are realities because they are _effective_ things, that is, they are _actualities_.”

So we need not be ashamed to admit that we pray! In this grim period of history, when the soul is face to face with itself and its brother as it has never been, we may speak with a greater simplicity than in the old conventionally-smiling days before the war. I pray--and so do you, whoever you are, if only by groaning “Oh, God!” when you suffer. Prayer is an instinct. Even an atheist will pray, if he finds himself beyond human aid. A friend of mine who was killed at the front used to take holy communion every morning, and he was doubtless a saner and better soldier for it. One need not be a Roman Catholic to see the beauty of that act of faith.

Whether God be a “dominant of the superpersonal unconscious,” a psychological function, or a mathematical equation, makes not the slightest difference to me. As William James would say, “He works.”

And whether the souls of our dead live in us, as Fechner says, or whether they are relics in the personal and collective unconscious, or whether they are “concrete realities” that can materialize by using astral and etheric substance, makes also not the slightest difference to me. If you could know how utterly I am at peace about this whole question!

And many other differences appear, on close examination, to be mainly differences of viewpoint and phraseology. The “astral world” of the Theosophists, mediæval and modern, corresponds to a certain level of the unconscious. “X” says in one of the Letters which follow, written in 1917, that melancholy may be produced by the pressure of the unhappy dead who make us fear. If you locate the dead in the unconscious, which surges up in moments of passivity, the dead will have the same effect.

Having given much of the leisure time of a laborious life to a study of the theories and practices of mysticism and occultism, as formulated by many different schools, I could write volumes (if I had the inclination, which I have not) in tracing out the psychological roots and the relations between these things. My own unconscious is rich with such images. Some of the most striking parallels have not been written about, so far as I know.

And Jung seems to have covered, with the wide mantle of his comprehension, even the frailties of those who believe in prophetic dreams. He says:

“The unconscious possesses possibilities of wisdom that are completely closed to consciousness, for the unconscious has at its disposal not only all the psychic contents that are under the threshold because they have been forgotten or overlooked, but also the wisdom of the experience of untold ages, deposited in the course of time and lying potential in the human brain. The unconscious is continually active, creating combinations of its materials; these serve to indicate the _future path_ of the individual. It creates prospective combinations just as our consciousness does, only they are considerably superior to the conscious combinations both in refinement and extent. The unconscious may therefore be an unparalleled guide for human beings....

“The unconscious must contain all the material that has _not yet_ reached the level of consciousness. These are the germs of future conscious contents.”

He seems to think that true prophecies are merely the result of synthesis by the unconscious of tendencies (_whether in the personal or universal unconscious_) significant for future occurrences. Referring to Maeterlinck’s “inconscient supérieur,” he says of the prophetic interpretation of dreams:

“The aversion of the exact sciences against this sort of thought-process which is hardly to be called phantastic is only an _overcompensation_ of the thousands of years old but all too great inclination of man to believe in soothsaying.”

I am told that the hearing of voices in the hypnogogic state indicates “a slight tendency to dissociation.” Very well. Probably the voices come from a deeper level than automatic writing, whatever the inspiration of automatic writing may be.

Now while the things which “X” in the following letters advised America to do, before America came into the war, were the very things which we did _after_ we came into the war and which we could not have done except as war measures, our entrance was not written down as a specific prophecy in these letters. Any startling prophecy has always had a tendency to shake me out of the passive state in which automatic writing is possible. _But_--during the weeks from February to April, 1917, in the hypnogogic state preceding sleep, I several times heard, “We are coming into the war.” Of course I did not write that down in the manuscript, as _it was not a part of the manuscript_. What is heard is heard, what is written is written. I merely mention it as a curious phenomenon for it was probably the synthesis of the _deeper levels_ of my unconscious. It was certainly the tragic hope of my conscious mind; but the conscious alone would not have produced a voice.

If anybody wonders that I should admit hearing hypnogogic voices, I can only say that I regard these things rather objectively and impersonally. I never hear voices except when half-asleep. If my very accurate memory has not slipped a cog, William James used to talk freely of his hypnogogic experiences. The more we know about our little personalities, the less monstrously important they seem. And the “hearing of voices” has more than once played a respectable rôle in history, before and after Moses.

But I do not imagine that I have any prophetic mission, nor do I feel in any hurry to “unite myself with the ocean of divinity,” nor feel any impulse violently to turn my back upon the universal. There is a happy mean, which makes for efficiency in life, for health and understanding.

I have touched upon analytical psychology in this Introduction because I am so constituted that I cannot publish this last volume of my automatic writings without indicating my point of view, with the same frankness as in former Introductions. Please do not blame science because I have not lost through the analytic process my instinctive belief in individual immortality. I assure you it has not been the fault of science.

If anyone objects that I have only touched the threads of this great web of psychology which lead towards the subject of this book, I can only say that this foreword being by way of preface to this book, no other course was possible on account of the limitations of space and artistic relevancy.

Psychology as a method of healing I leave to the physicians, who have written many books about it, containing bibliographies. And booksellers have catalogues. Anyone interested can write to them.

This is by way of excusing myself from answering letters of enquiry. I have unselfishly and laboriously written so many hundreds of letters! Now I want to write other things. The resolution of psychological “complexes” frees energy for sublimation in work. It frees ideas for use in art.

Dr. Beatrice M. Hinkle, in the introduction to her translation of Jung’s “Psychology of the Unconscious,” says that “this psychology which is pervading all realms of thought ... seems destined to be a psychological-philosophical system for the understanding and practical advancement of human life.”

So, having found a well whose waters were refreshing, I note the fact--and pass on.

The train of thought which the reader has followed in this Introduction is the train of thought which led me--after some delay--to the publication of the book.

I am glad that these “Last Letters from the Living Dead Man” are a call to courage, to restraint, to faith in the great and orderly future of America and the world, a call to all those positive qualities so gravely needed in these days of the rebuilding of Peace.

For I do not believe that Bolshevism, or any other form of lunacy, will find foothold in the United States. A nation with universal suffrage, for man and woman, certainly has no incentive for a resort to insane destruction. In the last State campaign it was interesting to watch the reactions of women to the privileges and duties of suffrage. I watched it only in one party, the Democratic, but it was doubtless everywhere the same. There was an added dignity, a sense of new responsibility, and always courtesy and real fellowship among the women and the men. Its happening to correspond in time with the Fourth Liberty Loan campaign, and the printing of casualty lists, made it all the more significant. No, these level-headed, socially-responsible women will never be swept away by collective insanity; and as the men who return from the front will return to these women, their mothers, wives and sisters, I do not think that we shall lose in peace what we have gained in war.

And now--remembering always that this book was written between February, 1917, and February, 1918--you may read the “Last Letters from the Living Dead Man.”

ELSA BARKER

New York, Easter Day, 1919.

LETTER I

THE GENIUS OF AMERICA

_February 3, 1917._

I WANT to write of America, land of my latest birth, land of the future.

Great is the road that the Genius of America may travel, and her feet have already passed the early stages of it.

The Genius of America!

Each land is watched over and its children guided--guided and moved--by a Genius.

Would you feel the Genius of America, go alone into the woods at night, watch and listen and invoke. Perhaps the answer may come, its recognition of you, your recognition of it.

If you are one of those who can hear the words which the Great Ones speak in the silence, perhaps you will hear something with the ears of your soul. If so, do not hasten to divulge the message, but treasure it in your heart; for that which is treasured in the heart can sometimes be felt and understood by the hearts of others.

If you are one of those who will serve willingly, the secret of your heart may be shared in silence with those who can hear in the silence.

The hour approaches when the mission of this land may be manifested. The hour approaches when the Genius of this land shall force its will upon this land. That will not be an easy task. So many wills have sought to wrest the reins from the guiding hand; so many eyes, looking in so many directions, have seen so many goals. But there is one will so strong that it can, when its hour is come, gather up the wills of men as a strong wind gathers a mass of loosely-lying straws and sweeps them along.

You know not the power of a will that has God behind it. You know not the power of a purpose that has God behind it and the future before it. Those who get in the way of the Genius of this land will be broken, like straws that would resist the wind.

I have watched from my unseen place the labors of many. I have helped unseen with my faith to strengthen the hearts of many. I shall wait now unseen till the act of destiny is accomplished.

You who have followed me from my first gropings in the twilight of the new life, before the clearness came; you who have followed me on my journeys among the battlefields, both in and above the world, follow me yet a little further, with your minds ajar for the entrance of the truth I have to tell you, the advice I have to give you. For my advice is disinterested as the rain, and my truth is offered as freely as the light.

I have come a long way since I laid down my body a few brief years ago, years of a crowded brevity, in which the world has moved as fast as I, and sometimes with more pain. For he who knows the purpose of his pain can bear it better than the child who knows only that he suffers.

I should have spoken to you before, but you would not let me. Child! Would you stand in the way with your personal wishes, and your shrinkings that are also wishes of a negative kind?

Blocked by your will to avoid this labor, I sought another entrance; but it was too much encumbered by prejudices and preconceived ideas, and all the litter of mental fragments that had accumulated through years of residence in a creed-bound place. You who have dwelt but briefly in many tents have no obstructions at your door, save such as are placed by your will, and those I now sweep away.

I shall pass in and out, and speak to you as I choose.

LETTER II

FEAR NOT

_February 8, 1917._

DID I not tell you many months ago that the soul of Abraham Lincoln kept watch above this land that he died to save from disruption, and that he would keep vigil until America should have passed through her next great trial? You questioned then what that trial would be. Do you question now? And yet you do not know.

Slowly the months have gone by, receding into the past. When, in the spring of 1915, you saw in vision the German Emperor in spiked helmet standing opposite to Uncle Sam in his shirt-sleeves, did you not suppose that it would come to this? You are wise to keep such visions to yourself.

Do not fancy that this war will end without greater changes than the world has ever known before. When I told you nearly two years ago that the battle between the powers of good and evil had been won in the invisible regions, I knew because my Teacher told me so; but do not believe that the new age can dawn without greater trouble and greater changes than you can now imagine. Birth is change and birth is painful, and birth is bloody and exhausting. The pains that have gone before are only the pains of labor.

The stars in their courses fight for the new race.

I have written of the bloody fields of Europe. Now I would write of America and her future, her near and her far future; for the sun is approaching the Eastern horizon and the dawn clouds are already tinged with the coming day.

America, do not despair! Your destiny is assured. In the storms to come, think of the freshness after the storm, when the ground shall smell sweet and birds shall sing. For birds will sing to the children of the new age.

In the midst of changes there will come a lull. The world will say, “It is over, the old things will return, and all will be as before.” But nothing will ever be exactly as it was before. In the lull you shall draw breath, and make ready for other changes. Yes, many things will be changed, even the hearts of men.

The world has known terror. Without experience of terror, without the poise that comes from the facing of terror undaunted, the world could not face the future without failure. Is there anything now, after thirty months of war, that could surprise the world? Is there anything that the world could not face?

Oh, remember that you are immortal, and that you who go out of life will come back again, strengthened by the rest in the invisible! For a change of place is a rest of consciousness. To those whose nerves are weary, wise doctors prescribe a change. A rest in the invisible worlds is more refreshing than a summer in the mountains. Do not fear death. I passed through death, and I am more rested now than a strong man in the morning. I would not go back to my old body. When I want a body again I shall build a new one. I know the process of building, having built so many before.

Be joyous with me. A wise man once said that only the unendurable is tragic. The world, and the souls of the world, can endure the change that is coming. Have not wars prepared them for it? That is why wars had to be.

America is rich. Her vaults are full of gold, her mines are full of ore, and her fresh soil is full of richness. Shall she fear a future in which labor can procure all things for the body, and faith can procure all things for the soul? The history of this land is a history of faith. Did not Columbus start across the trackless ocean, led only by the star of his faith? Did not your ancestors follow, led by their faith in the future? The past has gone back to God, it is safe as a dead man; but the future is coming to you, and your faith shall make it sure.

Fear naught. In the early days of this land your forefathers slept in quiet, though the red man lurked in the forest, and hunger lurked in the failure of harvests, and men and children could only be winter-warm when trees had been felled for fuel. Now you fear famines of coal? The earth is heavy with coal. You fear famines of wheat, when your muscles grow fat for lack of exercise. They who came first to this land had varied reasons for fear, but you have no reasons for fear. Labor is sweet. The child who makes labor of play can vouch for the truth of that saying. Can you not then make play of your labor? When I was a child I built houses of blocks. I longed to be building. I dug ditches in the garden. I made boats of chips and sailed them on a puddle. I planted seeds.

And learning? In the libraries of the world and in the brains of men is stored the learning of the ages. The new age will not lack the archives of all ages. Though paper is less enduring than parchment, it will last over into the new age. Fear not.

By hints I convey to your mind that many changes will come. What then? All progress is change. Go out with it to meet the future, with a smile on your face and a song on your lips. The future wears a rose in its buttonhole, as your Vagrom Angel would say.

LETTER III

THE PROMISE OF SPRING

_February 17, 1917._

WHEN you learn to think of life as a whole, of which you are a part containing in yourself the potentialities of the whole, then you will look upon these great changes with joy. The One must sometimes sacrifice itself to Itself, and by elimination secure a new lease of life. The whole--call it the race, or the earth-spirit, or what you will--may grow too fat and lazy, as a man may grow too large to move about with ease, and then by war among the organs, by fever, fasting or remedies, the equilibrium is restored, and he starts again a new man, ready to face the future.

Grim, does it seem? But who told you that the purposes of life were always smiling? In the deeps of the earth and in the deeps of man are dark substances.

The cold of winter is a hardship for those who expose themselves to the elements; but winter is the ebb-tide of that changing sea of life whose flood-tide is the summer. Rhythm, always rhythm.