No, there is no name for it; there is no means of expressing it. I am a conscious, thinking ego simply because I occupy a point in space, and because in that point there is a volition by which I form thoughts and behold them. They are myself and I am they. In them I sensate, realize, know.

How shall I get away from this all-knowing consciousness? There is not a place in all the vast expanse of the universe that is not filled with this mind-consciousness. "Whither shall go from thy Spirit? or whither shall I flee from thy presence? If I ascend into heaven, thou art there: if I make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there. If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea; even there shall thy hand lead me, and thy right hand shall hold me. If I say, Surely the darkness shall cover me, even the night shall be light about me. Yea, the darkness hideth not from thee; but the night shineth as the day: the darkness and the light are both alike to thee" (Ps. CXXXIX. 7-12).

Why is it, then, that I have not always been conscious of all this? There never could have been a time that I was not, nor was there ever a time when this ocean of mind was not. There must, however, have been a time when this center, this point in space that is the thinking "I," was formed. Of what was it formed? In this immensity of mind and life forms come forth having a central point, but, like an eddy formed in the great ocean by the tail of a fish, they soon cease and become again a part of the great body. There is nothing else in the universe but the great ocean of life from which I could have been made, for it is all things and all things are it. In it there are sound vibrations that no vibrations of the material air can ever approach.

I perceive now that not only does our planet earth, but every differentiated particle of the universe, vibrate to the harmonies of this All-Mind. Its manifestation is in a continuous song of delight; and all the worlds that float in space unite their voice in this gladsome anthem. This music is so much more vivid, so much more real, than anything that has occupied the physical senses in the times past! How could I have escaped hearing, knowing, realizing, these wonders long ago? Why is it? I come back from my musings to the physical organism, to the senses; I look out upon the natural world. Ah yes! now I see! now I can understand! Whatever I fix my attention upon, of that I am conscious and of nothing else.

What is attention? In the material world we are surrounded by a multitude of things, can we give them all attention at once? If we attempt to do so we find that nothing has our attention; the mind and consciousness flit from one thing to another with such rapidity that intelligent consciousness ceases. In order to know a thing we must give our attention to that thing exclusive of all else. When a child I wondered why, when a person was sitting, perhaps reading, perhaps intently thinking upon some subject, he could be spoken to once, twice, three times, and yet be all-oblivious. Was he deaf? No. Did did not the person addressing him speak loud enough? Oh yes: loud enough to be heard far away; yet he heard no sound.

A loud ticking clock sat upon my mantle for months. I could hear it at the extreme end of the house. But my confidence had been shaken in the clock's faithfulness to its duty, and the possibility of its stopping had been suggested to my mind thereby. Whilst sitting in my room near it the thought came to me that the clock had stopped. I listened to it, or thought I did. Yes, surely there was no sound; I heard none of its ticking. I listened again. I rose and went towards it, when suddenly there broke upon my ear the sound of its usual tick, tick. The realization rushed over me that it had been ticking all the time, and that the vibrations had been continuously beating upon my ear. I had become so accustomed to hearing it that my attention had been riveted away from it, and it was only by an effort that I heard it. Was it an effort? What kind of an effort? What mental change brought about the hearing again of that clock?

Now I perceive that I have always heard the celestial music, the song of worlds. I have always felt the presence and power of the mind currents, the thought consciousness, the life pulsations, of God. It was I. It was all of my conscious being. It was the most real and vivid of all my existence. But it was always so; it had never been any other way from the long cycles before my existence began, and it will continue so to all eternity. I had been taught from my childhood that something apart from me, something that I felt with my hands, saw with my eyes, or cognized by some of the five senses, was the only thing in the universe. My attention had been all fixed upon such objects.

Those that I thought ought to know told me that it was ig

norance, superstition, and folly to allow the smallest part of my attention, to allow any portion of my consciousness, to recognize the source of my being-aye, more, to recognize as existing my real self. I had believed them-believed them so firmly and so truly that the belief had formed a portion, and a large portion, of my thought consciousness. I had been psychologized by the minds of my teachers and by the mind of the race, so that I believed and was conscious of nothing but the shadows produced by thought formations. But as to the formations themselves, their reality, their source, their cause of existence, whence they came, and whither they go, I have known nothing. Ah yes! how foolish is the race! How foolish have I been to be psychologized by a delusion, by a shadow.

But how can I break this psychological delusion? This is the question of questions. My physical senses are so constructed and polarized that they are seldom conscious of anything but physical material; and all my thought, my life, has been deceived by them and by those of the race, so that I think I am dependent upon them for the knowledge of my existence. Am I so dependent? Have I not, in the flight of imagination in which I have just indulged, forsaken them entirely, as it were, gone and left them, and been conscious without them. I see that that which we call consciousness is dependent upon attention, attention and thought make my conscious existence; so that if I continually give my attention and thought to God, to Spirit, to this wonder-world of mind-call it or think of it as I may-I shall be able to awaken to a new world-no, not to a new world, but to the oldest, to the real, to the only real world.

Study how, by attention, one may lose consciousness of sound, of sight, of hearing, of one or all of the senses. Learn also the How we may gain consciousness by attention. This involves, it is true, something of an idea of, How do I think? Can you at will think upon any subject you choose? Can you continue to think upon that subject until all the consciousness is absorbed in it? If so, then may you not be able to transform your real ego, your real self, from the bondage of external sense to the world of limitless knowing? And all your knowing is knowing God.

But you do not so recognize it. You live on a little island in the great ocean. You play in its waters, hear its continuous

sound, but do not believe the sea exists. Those whom you have thought the wise ones of your island, have said that it did not, have said that the little island on which you stand is all there is, and you have believed them. You go out upon the broad bosom of the surrounding waters and gather in the food, the fish, without which you would die, and yet you say those waters have no existence, that none but the ignorant and superstitious believe such things. Oh yes! no wonder the prophet said, "My people are foolish; they are sottish children."

In the fountains of God's life all things are found, all qualities harmoniously and happily blend; and by and through your beliefs and desires you gather from that ocean whatever is related to the qualities of your mind. All men live, feed upon, subsist from, those infinite qualities by which they are surrounded. From their experience some say that this great ocean is bitter, vicious, is a hell of human existence; others that it is frivolous, butter-fly-like, transient as the day, nothing stable; others, again, that it is eternal, substantial, but hard and feelingless. The few have found in it the riches of all delight, holy angels there, the golden fruit of the garden of Hesperides, the delights of heaven, and all that is royal, grand, and excellent.

Each has found as he believed, as he lived, and as he worked. Which do you choose, for you may have that which you elect. You need not spend years of experimentation as to what is most desirable. The whole human family is and has been a living register of experimentation with the varied qualities of this fountain of life. This thinking, intelligent center which you are, may, like all that have gone before you, make out of these qualities what you will. Will you make a paradise, a kingdom of heaven, a heaven of immortal delights? It is yours to choose. It is yours to do and accomplish.-[ED.

"Nay, never falter: no great deed is done
By falterers who ask for certainty.
No good is certain, but the steadfast mind,
The undivided will to seek the good:
'Tis that compels the elements, and wrings
A human music from the indifferent air."

-George Eliot.

SOUL INTOXICATION.

When man has found the ego he knows where he stands, and this implies that he knows what he wants. How can a team of horses obey the driver when he himself is undecided which way to pull the reins? Likewise how can we realize our desires when we are not capable of understanding them?

Our desires are the propelling power, as is the team of horses, and our intelligence is the directing power, like the driver who directs his horses. The desires, then, spring from another source than that of the brain, or its manifestation as intelligence, or mind; they arise in that which to many is as yet an unknown quantity, and which I will term the soul.

The equipage, to be complete and ready for use, must have both the propelling and the directing power, the team and the driver; and the complete man, the one who is equipped for this earthly existence, must have an harmonious union of soul and mind power. Yes, the horses may go on by themselves and so may the driver, but will it be a practical team?

So the soul may regard itself as sufficient unto itself, may live its dreamy existence upon this earth, and never find its expression in form. We know that one may live too much in the senses, may express all his desires upon the sensuous plane, may even become intoxicated by drink or other material means. What is the meaning of "intoxication," as we here use it? It means losing one's self in the whirlpool of matter.

But can there be such a thing as soul intoxication? Can a man dwell so much in the subconscious state, or soul realm, as to derive all his pleasures therefrom, and realize all his desires in the subconscious mind only. Then soul intoxication in this life would mean a losing one's self in the realm of soul, losing more and more the consciousness of the material world; that is. the world of weight and form.

But, we say, the soul constitutes the essential being of man, it is the seat of the real immortal man, or ego, is it not well to