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Contents |
THE SEVEN PURPOSES
Chapter IX
I AM with all of you as I never could be
before," Frederick said, the next day, "be-
cause until we are realized and recognized the
communion can't be complete. Now I can tell
all of you lots of things you can get with-
out words or messenger. Sometimes you will
know they are my suggestions, sometimes you
won't. But the fact that I am closely and in-
timately in touch with you is the important
thing for all of us. The recognition of my def-
inite suggestion will come later, when you are
more accustomed to all this and have learned
the little signals by which I identify myself
to you."
"Can you tell us what those signals are?"
some one asked.
"They are like the force I am, too subtle for
scientific analysis or description, but you'll know
them, all of you. This thing can't be developed
in a minute, you know. Wait, and watch, and
let the bars down, and you'll know me when I
come, in a comparatively short time."
"Can you tip tables with us?" Lois inquired. [239]
"Yes, probably; but that's a clumsy way
of doing it. Some of you can run a planchette.
None of you are likely to get anything like
this. . . . This fluency of reception is hardly to
be expected. We can talk, however. . . . You
can always get me, for the essential inter-
course, and somehow we'll get it across."
"I want you to give your father something
like the 'stop—look—listen' reminder to me,"
his mother said.
"All right; but I can't do it in cold blood.
Let me cogitate, and I'll try to think up a
password that can't fail to accomplish the
desired effect. You and Dad are the same
purpose in essentials, but your force is dif-
ferently applied and can't be approached in
the same way."
"How far down in the scale does the pos-
session of a soul go?" Mr. Wylie asked, pres-
ently. "How about animals?"
"There is no such thing as soul, in that sense.
All purpose is force. All force personified is
individuality. All individuality is eternal. The
development is unequal. The undeveloped
force finds quicker development here. But the
force that has been developed to a point of
intelligence in your life, and is not actively
put to work, goes down in the scale, is deter-
rent, and has to work just as hard to get back [240]
as the force that never has developed at all."
"Where does the force animating babies
come from?" I asked. "What was little Dick
before he was little Dick?"
"That's what I want to explain, if I can.
The force that manifests itself in animals is
a grade higher in force than the vegetable
manifestation, and that higher than inanimate
stone and metal. The force of an animal comes
here, to swell the forces that become individual
and human through birth, but individuality
begins with human consciousness. All force
that is not human may eventually become
human, but there is no persistence of indi-
viduality until birth as a human and more or
less productive force begins it. Animals do
not produce anything but their kind. Only
man creates, and that is the eternal attribute."
"Is there a struggle between purposes to
enter a new-born human?"
"Many purposes are latent in every human
being from birth. None is in absolute pos-
session. Life on your plane is one perpetual
struggle between the eternal warring purposes.
No newly born child has chosen. The train-
ing of a child should, from the first, be a prep-
aration for battle, for daily—almost hourly—
choice. Diligence, vigilance, purpose to work
unceasingly and against all disintegrating in- [241]
fluences, determination to construct and to
progress in spite of anything, mental, moral,
physical, or material—these are the essential
things in training a child to live forcefully and
eternally."
"What becomes of babies who die at birth?"
"They have undeveloped personalities and
are developed here. We have strong forces of
Light and Truth devoted to their teaching."
"When a man is consciously determined to
construct, is he ever overcome by disintegrat-
ing forces?"
"Sure thing he is, if he doesn't fight. Some-
times he sways and recovers. Read the Les-
sons. They'll tell you more every time you
read them. They come from General Head-
quarters. . . . The arousing force of this mes-
sage is to be measured by conviction mani-
fested in action. Again you are respectfully
referred to the Lessons."
"It doesn't seem fair that physical and
nervous conditions should affect one's ability
to resist or receive the forces," Lois mentioned.
"It doesn't. You just think it does. The
forces of construction are always eager to
come in. The thing you call nervous exhaus-
tion generally comes from yielding to forces
of disintegration. A person yields to one or
more of them, and then is sorry for himself [242]
because some doctor doesn't rout them. What I
he needs is to buck up and kick them out him-
self." Evidently he referred here to the ner-
vous disorders arising from mental disturbances,
for the next day he emphasized the government
of physical forces by physical laws.
It was suggested that while many nervous
disorders might be controlled in their incipiency
by the person suffering from them, they event-
ually get beyond his control, and Frederick
I replied: "You think so; but there's always
force where there's personality, and if it can
just be put up to you, by yourself or another,
that the choice in the end is yours and nobody's
else, you can help yourself. In the end, you
help yourself, anyhow, unless you slide back
to protoplasm of purpose. Get busy and buck
up, or backslide and slump. It's up to every
fellow for himself, and every one who slips
back impedes the way for somebody else."
In the talk following this, some one spoke
of the constant teaching of brotherhood and
regard for one's neighbor as a vicarious gospel.
"Not vicarious," Frederick corrected. "It
is not vicarious to give the other fellow a chance.
No man is his brother's keeper. No man has
a right to impede construction, unless he's
destructive. But it's every personality de-
veloped to its highest that makes the strong [242]
constructive army. The weak should have a
chance to develop, but no strong force should
yield its purpose. Nothing vicarious about
that. Just common sense and good organiza-
tion."
Mr. Gaylord—the successful head of a large
manufacturing concern—asked, with a twinkle:
"Can you successfully run a business in ac-
cordance with the principles laid down in these
Lessons? Before you answer, I want to say
that I believe it can be done."
"You're right, Dad. It can't be done easily,
nor quite consistently, at present, because of
the complexity of modern business conditions.
You are all bound to some extent by associa-
tion with some one else, whether by a man, a
directors' board, an association, or a contrib-
uting concern. These all limit, to a certain
extent, your freedom of action; but funda-
mentally the principle is practicable, and can
gradually be put into consistent practice by
uniting with those of your own purpose, in-
stead of with those who seem expedient."
That evening, Mrs. Wylie said that the re-
peated assertions of invisible forces of con-
struction and of destruction, alertly striving
to influence us, reminded her of the old theories
of guardian angels and possessing devils.
I think it was that night, too, though I [244]
made no record of it at the time, that Mr.
Gaylord said, when Frederick's good night had
been followed by his customary signature: "I
wish he'd sign the name I used to call him
by." Efforts to obtain it then, however, were
unsuccessful.
The next day—the last of my visit—Fred-
erick said of a man of whom we had been
talking: "He hasn't just found himself yet,
but he will. He likes to produce some things,
and he will respond to the higher call to build
for the higher end. You can all help him,
and yourselves, and our whole purpose, by
calling to the latent builder in him. He wants
to come in, but doesn't know just where to
start. . . . More effort, more concentration,
more force applied for purpose, is the thing to
strive for first. I can't tell him how to build.
That's for him to choose. . . . You can build
together. Each of you helping the other, each
of you bringing effort, willingness, perception,
force of various kinds. But first and foremost,
devotion to the purpose of progress, regardless
of intervening difficulties and discouragements.
Habit is strong in every human force. Re-
member that, and watch—watch for the little
masquerading devils of destruction. They are
clever and subtle, and come in plausible guise.
Kick them out and work. . . . You said this [245]
sounded like the old stories of possession by
devils, Sis. It's not that. The devils of old
possessed a man in spite of himself. The
forces of destruction govern him only when
he permits them to. He can always be con-
structive, if he will. He may do no more than
carry bricks to the mason, but still he builds.
The man who has great opportunity must use
it greatly. The little chap can use only the
force he has. Thus endeth this preachment."
Lois asked whether he had been present at
a moment when several members of the family
had been in great physical danger, and he re-
plied that he had come at once, from a great
distance, in response to a summons from a
force "that is always with you when I am
not."
"There is always a connecting force between
you and the free forces here," he explained.
"We are always in touch that way. That is
equally true of the forces for destruction. The
greater forces for good or evil can be instantly
summoned to reinforce your choice."
This led to a discussion of prayer, in which
certain members of our group had lost faith.
You can always summon help, if you call
the (O) eternal constructive forces to build
with you," he told us. "But most people
pray for physical or material aid. Physical [246]
forces follow physical laws. Forces of eternity
affect them to some extent, but do not govern
them. Prayer with other people is a sort of
lying down on the Infinite and giving up per-
sonal effort. The prayer that is most truly
and promptly answered is the one that begins
and ends with a determination not to yield
to weakness, or fear, or the other disintegrat-
ing powers. Prayer implies an open mind, and
is too often made with a closed one. Not wil-
fully closed, but fearfully, and therefore not
truly open."
"Physical forces, Mother, were too much
for my physical resistance," he said, when she
spoke of her effort to hold him here. "No
amount of prayer, or influence of the forces of
eternal progress, could affect that, beyond the
extent to which it was affected. That is the
reason it was a long fight. The forces helped
all they could. But the physical thing is a
minor thing, after all. The eternal thing is
all that really counts. And to be able to put
you, whom I love so much, in touch with the
eternal while still in that preliminary life, is
worth all that I—and you—went through to
make it possible. To be able to pass on this
knowledge to that life of yours is worth any-
thing."
"Isn't the time coming when we shall be [247]
able to control our physical condition better
than we do now?" Mrs. Wylie asked.
"Yes, the mind—and what we call force in
the eternal sense—has great influence over
personal physical force. It performs no mir-
acles, but prevents much yielding to what is
really the forces of destruction, trying to ham-
per and delay accomplishment of any con-
structive kind. . . . The forces of disintegration
are the busy boys, and it takes force and pur-
pose and struggle to keep them out."
"Is our decision to use your first name in
the book right?" his father asked.
"Yes, sir. I am very happy about that. It
will identify me, and therefore the message,
to many people I should like to reach personally,
and will not identify you to the public at
large. I should not like to have Mother and
the girls annoyed by publicity, but that was
for you to choose. The message, as you know,
is important and general. But to a lot of
fellows I want to reach, Frederick will carry
where Z. X. would fail to convince. . . . Your
attitude about the book pleases me, too. . . .
You and I both know the force of the primi-
tive masculine feeling that a man's family is
his own, and its affairs private and personal.
This time, the personal affair is also the eter-
nal affair, vital and illuminating. And the fact [248]
that I have been one of the channels through
which this came, that it was the search for me
that made Margaret begin this work, must not
be confused in anybody's mind with the fact
that the message is more than a message—it
is a revelation. For that reason, you and I
both will gladly sink the personal reluctance
and remember the purpose we serve."
A long pause ensued, while we sat soberly
about the table, waiting. Then some one
suggested that perhaps he wished us to ask
questions.
"All I want is to talk like folks to the
family," he announced, with a force and rapid-
ity amounting to emphasis. "For the love of
Mike, stop thinking of me as different, and
translated, and serious, and solemn! I do
preach a lot, I admit. That's for reasons you
know. But I'm just as fond of a joke as I
ever was, and I refuse to be set aside as a
superior being! Come on, now, count me in
as the Boy, and out as a thing to be treated
with solemn reverence! I'm myself, and I
want it recognized!"
After this, the talk drifted, much as it might
have done had he returned visibly after a
long absence, touching here and there.
Presently Lois asked, referring to a friend
in Europe: "Did you know H____ was mar- [249]
ried? And to an American woman?"
"No, I didn't know that. He should marry
a free force, like an American girl. He was
too blamed medieval in his feeling about fe-
males. We are all a bit inclined that way, we
men, but American women are doing a lot to
free force, the world over. They are more
nearly free in purpose than any other women
in the world, more truly individuals—when
they don't abuse it, and turn into dolls.
American girls help women everywhere. They
don't stand for any harem stunts. H____ will
learn a lot of things he needs to know, if she's
the real thing."
Concluding a long reply to a personal ques-
tion of his father's, he said: "Know that I
am enjoying every pleasure you take, doubly,
once for you and twice for myself. There's
your watchword, Dad! One for myself, and
two for the Boy. Remember that every time
you are worried, every time you are tempted
to overwork, every time you put off physical
repairs, every time you feel depressed, every
time you need rest and relaxation and pleas-
ure, every time you play with Mother and the
girls, every time you renew your fellowship
with other men—always remember: One for
myself, and two for the Boy."
That evening, Mrs. Gaylord said that she [250]
had received a message about a relative in
the West, purporting to come from her brother
on the next plane, which she thought was not
true, but one of her daughters told her that a
letter received the night before had verified it.
"Mother dearest, all messengers have that
trouble," Frederick warned her. "There are
certain things concerning details of your plane,
that will come to you through forces around
you, that get confused in transmission.
That's as near as I can come now to explain-
ing what happens. Some day, I can perhaps
tell you more about it. But don't let that dis-
turb or discourage you. The explanation is as
natural as a deflected ray of light, or an elec-
tric current grounded.* It is a part of the
conditions under which we work with your
plane, and is never encountered regularly or
continuously. Certain detached experiences
of that sort come to every messenger. This
one you mention was not one of them, but I
tell you this now, because the experience may
come to any of you, including Margaret, any
day. The current gets mixed. That's the
best way I can express it. But it doesn't per-
sist for any length of time."
We talked about the force moving the
* Short-circuited?
pencil. Mr. Gaylord asked whether I wrote [251]
the words, after receiving the message through
my mind, and I replied that the force, on the
contrary, seemed to be applied to the pencil
from without—sometimes above my fingers,
sometimes below them—my only participation
being to hold the pencil upright and to follow
its movement. Mrs. Wylie mentioned the
theory that the message comes through the
subconscious mind, the muscles of the hand
supplying the motive power. We asked Fred-
erick whether he could tell us anything about it.
"The subconscious mind is like the battery,"
he said, slowly, "but the connection is made
through the hand. The motive power for the
pencil does not come, as scientists claim, from
the subconscious mind, but from the subtle
force I mentioned, put into connection with
the hand by certain sympathetic and sensitive
conditions of the subconscious mind. The
comparison is not exact. The force is not
electric, and has certain definitely distinctive
qualities not to be expressed in any terms
now familiar to your plane; but in time words
will be found—or coined—to express this con-
nection."
Some weeks afterward, Mr. Kendal ob-
tained a little additional information about
this unknown force from his wife.
In endeavoring to establish communication [252]
with Frederick, through a pencil, one of his
sisters had been overwhelmed by insistent, and
frequently unknown, personalities seeking ex-
pression, and had had some rather violent and
annoying manifestations of the force they
employ.
"You mustn't do too much of this writing
stunt," Frederick now advised her, "unless you
give up a lot of other things. You can't burn
your candle of force at both ends. Margaret
gave up a lot of outside activities long ago.
You are sensitive, and could do this in time
very freely, but the receptivity is decidedly a
strain upon the messenger at best, and if any
amount of writing is to be done, you can't
do other things, too." After mentioning that
she would probably be beset by "any number
of yearning forces," he added: "So either say
'not at home' to anybody but Uncle J____and
Bud . . ."
I halted the pencil, supposing that he had
intended to write either Boy or Brother, and
that there had been a mistake in transmission.
Lois glanced at the sheet, and ejaculated:
"Buddie!"
"That's the name I've been waiting for!"
her father exclaimed.
The pencil then went on, completing the
name as if no interruption had occurred: [253]
". . . die, or give up other things, or quit."
Afterward, when it had been explained that
certain members of the family had called
Frederick Buddie, Bud, or Buzz, variations
of Lois's baby attempts at Brother, he added:
"I've been trying to get that through, but
the Missourian held me to known names."
At first, names came to me with little diffi-
culty, but latterly—possibly beginning with
the Annie Manning episode—I have been gen-
erally unable to transmit them. Some one
asked Frederick the reason for this.
"Because names are specific," he said.
"She knows my name. She knew I had a
special name, besides. But while an idea ex-
pressed in familiar words can be transmitted,
however unfamiliar the idea, the definite and
specific spelling of an unfamiliar name is very
difficult to get through, especially if the mes-
senger is a little nervous about it, or constantly
alert for possible mistakes. We can some-
times get it through, as I did this, in a rush of
other stuff."
[A few days later, when I was very tired,
receiving with difficulty, and therefore ques-
tioning every statement made through the
pencil, Mary K. said: "You are the most men-
tally . . . el . . . elas . . . el . . . elastic is not
the word. Means elastic and masterful. . . [254]
impregnable messenger I ever tried to work
through. . . . That is the reason names are al-
most impossible to send through you. You
try to get them, but the almost invincible
character of your mental resistance to decep-
tion makes it difficult for us to penetrate where
a doubt exists in your mind. A name is spe-
cific to the highest degree, and resistance, how-
ever unconscious and unrecognized, prevents
its free transmission."]
"You will come again, won't you?" Fred-
erick asked, as the hour of my departure ap-
proached. "I have had a bully time talking
to the family, and I can do better work now,
because they are all happier, and all with me
in conscious purpose. It's true that every
bit of conscious co-operation with us helps
us, as well as you. So that 'One for myself
and two for the Boy' is not bunk, Dad. It's
the real thing, for both of us."
With a final brief message to every member
of the group, the last of these L____ inter-
views closed."*
* In describing Frederick's pyrotechnical "upside-down stunts" and
the later "trimmings," the great facility with which they were exe-
cuted should have been more strongly emphasized. They were all
written with extraordinary rapidity and firmness.
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