le, fly, sky, ocean, mountains, plain,
rock, pebble. The warmth of life, the reality of creation is over
all--the throb of human hands, glossiness of fur, lithe windings of long
bodies, poignant buzzing of insects, the ruggedness of the steeps as I
climb them, the liquid mobility and boom of waves upon the rocks.
Strange to say, try as I may, I cannot force my touch to pervade this
universe in all directions. The moment I try, the whole vanishes; only
small objects or narrow portions of a surface, mere touch-signs, a chaos
of things scattered at random, remain. No thrill, no delight is excited
thereby. Restore to the artistic, comprehensive internal sense its
rightful domain, and you give me joy which best proves the reality.

BEFORE THE SOUL DAWN

XI

BEFORE THE SOUL DAWN

BEFORE my teacher came to me, I did not know that I am. I lived in a
world that was a no-world. I cannot hope to describe adequately that
unconscious, yet conscious time of nothingness. I did not know that I
knew aught, or that I lived or acted or desired. I had neither will nor
intellect. I was carried along to objects and acts by a certain blind
natural impetus. I had a mind which caused me to feel anger,
satisfaction, desire. These two facts led those about me to suppose
that I willed and thought. I can remember all this, not because I knew
that it was so, but because I have tactual memory. It enables me to
remember that I never contracted my forehead in the act of thinking. I
never viewed anything beforehand or chose it. I also recall tactually
the fact that never in a start of the body or a heart-beat did I feel
that I loved or cared for anything. My inner life, then, was a blank
without past, present, or future, without hope or anticipation, without
wonder or joy or faith.

It was not night--it was not day.

. . . . .

But vacancy absorbing space,
And fixedness, without a place;
There were no stars--no earth--no time--
No check--no change--no good--no crime.

My dormant being had no idea of God or immortality, no fear of death.

I remember, also through touch, that I had a power of association. I
felt tactual jars like the stamp of a foot, the opening of a window or
its closing, the slam of a door. After repeatedly smelling rain and
feeling the discomfort of wetness, I acted like those about me: I ran to
shut the window. But that