f life,
somewhere, somewhen and somehow, out of force and matter with a pop.
But that pop never popped, dear reader. The boot was on the other leg.
And I wish I could mix a few more metaphors, like pops and legs and
boots, just to annoy you.

Life never evolved, or evoluted, out of force and matter, dear reader.
There is no such thing as evolution, anyhow. There is only
development. Man was man in the very first plasm-speck which was his
own individual origin, and is still his own individual origin. As for
the origin, I don't know much about it. I only know there is but one
origin, and that is the individual soul. The individual soul
originated everything, and has itself no origin. So that time is a
matter of living experience, nothing else, and eternity is just a
mental trick. Of course every living speck, amoeba or newt, has its
own individual soul.

And we sit on our own globe, dear reader, here individually located.
Our own individual being is our own single reality. But the single
reality of the individual being is dynamically and directly polarized
to the earth's center, which is the aggregate negative center of all
terrestrial existence. In short, the center which in life we thrust
away from, and towards which we fall, in death. For, our individual
existence being positive, we must have a negative pole to thrust away
from. And when our positive individual existence breaks, and we fall
into death, our wonderful individual gravitation-center succumbs to
the earth's gravitation-center.

So there we are, individuals, single, life-born, life-living, yet all
the while poised and polarized to the aggregate center of our
substantial death, our earth's quick, powerful center-clue.

There may be other individuals, alive, and having other worlds under
their feet, polarized to their own globe's center. But the very
sacredness of my own individuality prevents my pronouncing about them,
lest I, in attributing qualities to them, transgress against the pure
individuality which is theirs, beyond me.

If, however, there be truly other people, with their own world under
their feet, then I think it is fair to say that we all have our
infinite identity in the sun. That in the rush and swirl of death we
pass through fiery ways to the same sun. And from the sun, can the
spores of souls pass to the various worlds? And to the worlds of the
cosmos seed across space, through the wild beams of the sun? Is there
seed of Mars in my vei