'Exploring the Great Beyond'
Chapter 4 The Wonderful Psychic

Geoffrey Farthing

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The stories now to be related are all taken from the writings of H. P. Blavatsky or were written about her. The reason for this selection is twofold. First, the stories are second to none in quality. Second, it is important to understand that she was acquainted with all kinds of psychic and spiritualistic phenomena; the technical explanations given later constitute part of, and are consistent with, the great teaching given out by her. We are trying to establish that this teaching does in fact cover all kinds of phenomena, old and new, and that she knew what she was talking about. The examples which follow are only a few samples of the many available to us. They may still be unbelievable to some readers, but perhaps their possibility will be more acceptable now than when the stories were written, especially in view of the background knowledge and explanation now available.

On one occasion Madame Blavatsky, with a small party, was traveling in the desert country of Mongolia. They had as their guide a Shaman, a wonder-working religious man, a magician (see Mary K. Neff's Personal Memoirs of H.P.B. p. 139, and the Theosophical Glossary for more about Shamans) whom H.P.B. describes as being a sensitive medium, artificially developed, of no great knowledge or education. He had a talisman, the use of which he would not divulge, saying the stone could speak for itself.

But the day on which the stone "spoke" came very soon. It was during the most critical hours of our life; at a time when the vagabond nature of a traveler had carried the writer to far-off lands, where neither civilisation is known nor security can be guaranteed for an hour. One afternoon, as every man and woman had left the yourta (Tartar tent) that had been our home for over two months, to witness the ceremony of the


Lamaic exorcism of a Tshoutgour (an elemental daemon, in which every native of Asia believes), accused of breaking and spiriting away every bit of the poor furniture and earthenware of a family living about two miles distant, the Shaman, who had become our only protector in those dreary deserts, was reminded of his promise. He sighed and hesitated; but after a short silence left his place on the sheepskin and, going outside, placed a dried-up goat's head with its prominent horns over a wooden peg, and then dropping down the felt curtain over the tent, remarked that now no living person would venture in, for the goat's head was a sign that he was "at work."

After that, placing his hand in his bosom, he drew out the little stone, about the size of a walnut, and carefully unwrapping it, proceeded, as it appeared, to swallow it. In a few moments his limbs stiffened, his body became rigid and he fell, cold and motionless as a corpse. But for a slight twitching of his lips at every question asked the scene would have been embarrassing, nay, dreadful. The sun was setting and, were it not that dying embers flickered at the centre of the tent, complete darkness would have been added to the oppressive silence which reigned. We have lived in the prairies of the West and in the boundless steppes of Southern Russia but nothing can be compared to the silence at sunset on the sandy deserts of Mongolia, not even the barren solitudes of the deserts of Africa, though the former are partially inhabited and the latter utterly void of life. Yet, there was the writer alone with what looked no better than a corpse lying on the ground. Fortunately, this state did not last long.

"Mahandu!" uttered a voice, which seemed to come from the bowels of the earth, on which the Shaman was prostrated. "Peace be with you ... what would you have me do for you?"

Startling as the fact seemed, we were quite prepared for it, for we had seen other Shamans pass through similar performances. "Whoever you are," we pronounced mentally, "go to K___ and try to bring that person's thought here. See what that other party


does and tell - what we are doing and how situated." "I am there," - answered the same voice. "The old lady (Kokona) is sitting in the garden ... she is putting on her spectacles and reading a letter."

"The contents of it, and hasten, was the hurried order while preparing notebook and pencil. The contents were given slowly as if, while dictating, the invisible presence desired to afford us time to put down the words phonetically, for we recognised the Valachian language of which we know nothing beyond the ability to recognise it. In such a way a whole page was filled.

"Look west ... towards the third pole of the yourta," pronounced the Tartar in his natural voice, though it sounded hollow, and as if coming from afar. "Her thought is here."

Then with a convulsive jerk, the upper portion of the Shaman's body seemed raised, and his head fell heavily on the writer's feet, which he clutched with both hands. The position was becoming less and less attractive, but curiosity proved a good ally to courage. In the west corner was standing, life-like but flickering, unsteady and mist-like, the form of a dear old friend, a Romanian lady of Valachia, a mystic by disposition, but a thorough disbeliever in this kind of occult phenomena.

"Her thought is here, but her body is lying unconscious. We could not bring her here otherwise," said the voice.

We addressed and supplicated the apparition to answer, but all in vain. The features moved, and the form gesticulated as if in fear and agony, but no sound broke forth from the shadowy lips; only we imagined-perchance it was fancy-hearing as if from a long distance the Romanian words: "Non se p6te" (It cannot be done). For over two hours, the most substantial, unequivocal proofs that the Shaman's astral soul was traveling at the bidding of our unspoken wish, were given us. Ten months later we received a letter from our Valachian friend in response to ours, in which we had enclosed the page from the notebook, inquiring of her what she had been doing on that day,


and describing the scene in full. She was sitting-she wrote-in the garden on that morning (the hour in Bucharest corresponded perfectly with that of the country in which the scene had taken place) prosaically occupied in boiling some conserves; the letter sent to her was word for word the copy of the one received by her from her brother; all at once - in consequence of the heat. she thought - she fainted, and remembered distinctly dreaming she saw the writer in a desert place which she accurately described, and sitting under a "gypsy tent" as she expressed it. "Henceforth," she added. "I can doubt no longer!"

But our experiment was proved still better. We had directed the Shaman's inner ego to the same friend heretofore mentioned in this chapter. the Kutchi of Lhasa, who travels constantly to British India and back. We know that he was appraised of our critical situation in the desert; for a few hours later came help, and we were rescued by a party of twenty-five horsemen who had been directed by their chief to find us at the place where we were, which no living man endowed with common powers could have known. The chief of this escort was a Shaberon, an "adept" whom we had never seen before, nor did we after that, for he never left his soumay (lamasary), and we could have no access to it. But he was a personal friend of the Kutchi. The above will, of course, provoke nought but incredulity in the general reader. But we write for those who will believe; who like the writer, understand and know the illimitable powers and possibilities of the human astral soul. In this case we willingly believe, nay, we know, that the "spiritual double" of the Shaman did not act alone, for he was no adept but simply a medium. According to a favourite expression of his, as soon as he placed the stone in his mouth, his "father appeared, dragged him out of his skin, and took him wherever he wanted," and at his bidding.

(lsis Unveiled. II, pp. 626-628)


This example was chosen because of the many elements in it and because to some extent it bridges the gap between the kind of


medium-based phenomena instanced in Chapter 3 and the feats of the more positive kind of "magician". The difference between the two is that the "magician" produces his phenomena at will, in full consciousness, whereas a medium is a passive agent, often unconscious of what is happening.

The following is interesting apropos Shamans:

Shamans are called sorcerers because they are said to evoke the "spirit" of the dead for purposes of necromancy. The true Shamanism -striking features of which prevailed in India in the days of Megathenes (300 B.C.) - can no more be judged by its degenerated scions among the Shamans of Siberia, than the religion of Gautama Buddha can be interpreted by the fetishism of some of his followers in Siam and Burmah. It is in the chief lamaseries of Mongolia and Tibet that it has taken refuge; and there Shamanism, if so we may call it, is practiced to the utmost limits of intercourse allowed between man and "spirit".

This quotation not only supplements what was said about Shamanism but it supports the hints so frequently given in authentic "occult" literature that the popular versions of occult practice, which have brought discredit on the science, and the popular versions of religion, which have done and are doing so much to discredit it in the modern rational mind, are not authentic. The real knowledge has to be sought with an open minded persistence, now very rare because of our conditioned view that such matters are superstitions and for the ignorant only. The whole grand subject of true spiritual science tends, therefore, to be neglected except by the few who sense somehow that there must be such a science. Some get glimpses of it in the numerous translations of Eastern scriptures now available: and a few scientists, by admitting the possible worth of investigating modern psychic phenomena, are beginning to suspect that mysterious forces and laws may be behind them.

There are many stories (see Incidents in the Life of Madame Blavatsky) of the things that happened in the presence of Mme. Blavatsky, particularly when she was young. Sometimes these seemed spontaneous and not under her control, but as she grew older they were always subject to her will. Many of these phenomena had to do with the moving of physical objects, furniture,


etc., with the production of sounds, such as the playing of a locked piano, and the transmission of precipitated letters.

The following report of her power of automatic writing, as it is now called, is significant in view of Michael Manning's account of Dr. Penn's diagnoses. It comes from her sister, Vera Jelihovsky:

She was what would be called in our days "a good writing medium." That is to say she could write out the answers herself while talking with those around her upon quite different topics ... From the first, almost from her childhood, and certainly in the days mentioned above, Mme. Blavatsky, as she tells us, would in such cases see either the actual present thought of the person putting the questions, or its paler reflection still quite distinct for her - of an event, or a name, or whatever it was, as though hanging in a shadow-world around the person, generally in the vicinity of the head. She had but to copy it consciously, or allow her hand to do so mechanically. At any rate, she never felt herself helped or led on by an external power, i.e. no "spirits" helped her in this process after she returned from her first voyage, she avers …

Whenever the thought of a person had to be communicated through raps, the process changed. She had to read, first of all, sometimes interpret, the thought of the querist; and having done so, remember it well after it had often disappeared; watch the letters of the alphabet as they were read or pointed out; prepare the will current that had to produce the raps at the right letter, and then have it strike at the right moment the table or any other object chosen to be the vehicle of sounds or raps.

It often happened that my sister, being occupied with her reading, we - our father, governess and myself - unwilling to disturb her, communicated with the invisible power mentally and in silence, simply thinking out our questions, and writing down the letters rapped out either on the walls or the table near us ... It is most extraordinary that our silent conversations, with that intelligent force that had ever manifested itself in my sister's presence, were found by us the most


successful during her sleep or when she was very ill. She had long since given up communication through raps (speaking of the time when she was in Mingrelia) and preferred - what was a far more rapid and satisfactory method - to answer people either verbally or by means of direct writing. This was always done in full consciousness and simply, as she explained, by watching people's thoughts as they evolved out of their heads in spiral luminous smoke, sometimes in jets of what might be taken for some radiant material, and settled in distinct pictures and images around them.

Often such thoughts and answers to them would find themselves impressed in her own brain, couched in words and sentences in the same way as original thoughts do. But, as far as we are able to understand, the former visions are always more trustworthy, as they are independent and distinct from the seer's own impressions, belonging to pure clairvoyance, and not to thought-transference which is a process always liable to get mixed up with one's own more vivid impressions.

At times during such process (of direct writing) Mme. Blavatsky seemed to fall into a kind of coma, or magnetic sleep, with eyes wide open, though even then her hand never ceased to move, and she continued its writing. When thus answering mental questions, the answers were rarely unsatisfactory.

H.P.B. herself adds in a footnote:

Very naturally, since it was neither "magnetic sleep" nor coma, but simply a state of intense concentration, an attention only too necessary during such concentration, when the least distraction leads to a mistake. People knowing but of mediumistic clairvoyance, and not of our philosophy and mode of operation, often fall into such error. (Neff. p.126-7)

This excerpt would perhaps have been better included in our chapters on Explanations (Chapters 14 and 15) but it is given here because, like the last example, it introduces us to a number of new ideas; clairvoyance of a kind other than mediumistic; seeing


thoughts; apparently doing two things at once - reading and at the same time receiving unspoken questions; psychokinesis; the production of raps; the powerful will of such an operator, and the seeming trance of intense concentration.

Her family was interested to observe her growing control over phenomena. Her sister says:

This was proved by her stopping such phenomena at her will, and by previous arrangement, for days and weeks at a time. Then when the term was over, she could produce them at her command and leaving the choice of what should happen to those present. In short, it is the firm belief of all that, where a less strong nature would have been surely wrecked in the struggle, her indomitable will found somehow or other the means of subjecting the world of the invisibles - to the denizens of which she has ever refused the name of "spirits" and souls - to her own control.

There are other stories which indicate this human ability to control the denizens of the inner worlds. Here is one:

In the West a "sensitive" has to be entranced before being rendered invulnerable by the presiding "guides" and we defy any "medium" in his or her normal physical state, to bury the arms to the elbows in glowing coals. But in the East, whether the performer be a holy lama or a mercenary sorcerer (the latter class being generally termed "jugglers") he needs no preparation or abnormal state to be able to handle fire, red-hot pieces of iron, or melted lead. We have seen in Southern India these "jugglers" keep their hands in a furnace of burning coals until the latter were reduced to cinders.

During the religious ceremony of Siva-Ratri, or the vigil-night of Siva, when the people spend whole nights in watching and praying, some of the Sivarites called in a Tamil juggler, who produced the most wonderful phenomena by simply summoning to his help a spirit whom they called Kutti-Sottan - the little demon. But, far from allowing people to think he was guided or "controlled" by this gnome – for it was a gnome, if it


was anything - the man, while crouching over his fiery pit, proudly rebuked a Catholic missionary who took this opportunity to inform the bystanders that the miserable sinner "had sold himself to Satan."

Without removing his hands and arms from the burning coals within which he was coolly refreshing them, the Tamil only turned his head and gave one arrogant look at the flushed missionary. "My father and my father's father", he said, had this 'little one' at their command. For two centuries the Kutti is a faithful servant in our home and now, sir, you would make people believe that he is my master? But they know better." After this he quietly withdrew his hands from the fire and proceeded with the other performances.

(lsis I, 445/6)

There is another example of the powers of fire elementals and their control by men having mastery over them.

The poor heathen have no such impedimenta (as modern scientists) but - will European science believe it - nevertheless produce the very same phenomena. Upon one occasion when, in a case of exceptional importance, an "oracle" was required, we saw the possibility of what we had previously vehemently denied namely, a simple mendicant cause a sensitive flame to give responsive flashes without a particle of apparatus. A fire was kindled of branches of the Bael tree, and some sacrificial herbs were sprinkled upon it. The mendicant sat nearby, motionless, absorbed in contemplation.

During intervals between the questions, the fire burned low and seemed ready to go out; but when the interrogatories were propounded the flames leaped, roaring, skyward, flickered, bowed, and sent fiery tongues flaring towards the east, west, north and south; each motion having its distinct meaning in a code of signals well understood. Between whiles it would sink to the ground, and the tongues of flame would lick the sod in every direction and suddenly disappear, leaving only a bed of glowing embers.


When the interview with the flame-spirits was at an end, the Bikshu (mendicant) turned towards the jungle where he abode, keeping up a wailing, monotonous chant, to the rhythm of which the sensitive flame kept time, not merely like Professor Tyndall's when he read the Faerie Queene, by simple motions, but by a marvelous modulation of hissing and roaring, until he was out of sight. Then, as if its very life were extinguished, it vanished and left a bed of ashes before the astonished spectators.

(Isis II, 606/7)

A story about another elemental is both illuminating and amusing. The event took place in the early days of Col. Olcott's long partnership with H. P. Blavatsky, in a house he had rented in New York.

One day, bethinking me that a sufficiency of towels was too evidently lacking in her house, I bought some and brought them home in a parcel. We cut them apart and she was for putting them into immediate use without hemming; but, as I protested against such bad housekeeping, she good-naturedly set to plying her needle. She had hardly commenced when she gave an angry kick beneath the worktable at which she sat, and said, "Get out, you fool!" "What is the matter?" I asked. "Oh," she replied, "It is only a little beast of an elemental that pulled my dress and wants something to do." "Capital," I said; "here is just the thing; make it hem the towels. Why should you bother about them, and you such an atrocious needle-woman as that hem proves to be?"

She laughed, and abused me for my uncomplimentary speech, but at first would not gratify the poor little bond-slave under the table that was ready to play the kindly leprechaun if given the chance. I, however , persuaded her at last; she told me to lock up the towels, with needle and thread, in a bookcase with glass doors lined with thick green silk that stood at the farther side of the room. I did so and resumed my seat near her, and we fell to talking on the inexhaustible and unique theme that occupied our thoughts - occult


science. After perhaps a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes, I heard a little squeaking sound, like a mouse's pipe, beneath the table, whereupon H.P.B. told me that "that nuisance" had finished the towels.

So I unlocked the bookcase door and found the dozen towels were actually hemmed, though after a clumsy fashion that would disgrace the youngest child in an infant school sewing class. Hemmed they were, beyond possibility of doubt, and inside a locked bookcase which H.P.B. had never approached while the thing was going on. The time was about 4 p.m. and, of course, it was broad daylight. This was the little elemental which H.P.B. called "Pou Dhi."

There are many other such illustrations of the remarkable powers of H. P. Blavatsky. Most of the incidents took place in the presence of a number of people who all seemed willing to vouch for what happened. Few who witnessed these happenings accused her of fraud. In any case nearly everything she did was spontaneous and without any apparent preparation or "props."

On one occasion guests at her parents' house saw her raise her arm, and her tobacco pouch (from which she made her own cigarettes) came floating through the air from another room to her hand.

Another time she "fixed" a lightweight table so firmly to the floor that even strong men could not shift it, whereas when the "spell" was off, it was easily moved.

Another remarkable incident was the production of an elaborate cup, complete with lid, for an unexpected guest at a picnic not at a prearranged place. The "apported" cup was an exact replica of those in a set of six which had been brought for the picnic. The marvelously produced cup was found in the soil in the roots of a tree: it would have been extremely difficult to have rearranged the roots so that they looked undisturbed. The cup still exists.

Apart from these tales, of which there are a number, she seemingly had the power to see into the Astral Light (see Chapter 9) and when for example she was writing a book as Isis Unveiled, she could make reference to books and copy out what she wanted without physically having the books in her possession-and more often than not without having read them. To see them at all is

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remarkable but to know what was in them and be able to find the references she wanted without having read them is incomparably more remarkable, if not incredible. To justify this story, however, the physical fact of the numbers of works referred to in her major works -1,300 in Isis and 1,100 in The Secret Doctrine.

The publication in 1970 of the book, Psychic Discoveries Behind the Iron Curtain. (by Ostrander and Schroeder – see p 133) has changed many people's attitude toward phenomena of this kind. They are not now, so frequently at any rate, dismissed out of hand as being impossible.

One more kind of phenomena must be mentioned here because it concerns those who, we are asked to believe, trained H.P.B. in her occultism and who, themselves, are regarded by many as being high initiates in occultism, often being referred to as Masters or Mahatmas, and who, incidentally, are, or were at the time, living men, not incorporeal "spirits" as some have said they must be. Apart from Mme. Blavatsky, there are a number of reports of others having seen them in their physical bodies. It is fairly clear, however, that they could operate very effectively out of their ordinary bodies. We will say more about this later.

It was from two of these Mahatmas, however, that a journalist then in India, Mr. A. P. Sinnett, received many letters. These contained the Mahatmas' teachings on the elements of theoretical occultism then being given out publicly for the first time. The letters are now in the British Museum and are available for examination. Apart from the teachings they contain (and much else) they are remarkable because it is claimed that many of them were not written the ordinary way, with pen and ink or pencil, but were precipitated through and by chelas (the Masters' pupils or disciples). Sometimes precipitation meant impressing, or depositing, the letters of the words on paper already available. Sometimes it meant also the transmission and materialization of the actual paper on which the words were impressed.

Here are some descriptions of the technique. One of the Masters says:

The recent experiments (about 1883) of the Psychic Research Society will help you greatly to comprehend the rationale of this mental telegraphy. You have observed in the journal of that body how thought transference is cumulatively effected. The image of the geometrical or other figure which the active brain has


had impressed upon it, is gradually imprinted upon the recipient brain of the passive subject, as a series of reproductions illustrated in the cut shows.

Two factors are needed to produce a perfect and instantaneous mental telegraphy-close concentration in the operator and complete receptive passivity in the reader subject. Given a disturbance of either condition, and the result is proportionately imperfect. The reader does not see the image as in the telegrapher's brain, but as arising in his own. When the latter's thoughts wander, the psychic current becomes broken, the communication disjointed and incoherent.

(M.L. 422/3)

The letters written to Sinnett were sometimes transmitted hundreds of miles so that not only thought transference of a high degree was required but frequently the transmission of the actual substance of the paper and envelopes. Occasionally, messages in the well-known handwritings were impressed on letters in transit in the ordinary post, without the envelopes appearing to have been opened.

An account of how a chela, in this case H. P. Blavatsky herself, would transmit is as follows:

So much for precipitations from the Masters, but it was also necessary for the chela to learn how to send messages to Them. Of this she (H.P.B.) says: "Now to 'send on' a letter, two or three processes are used:

I) To put the envelope sealed on my forehead; and then, warning the Master to be ready for the communication, have the contents reflected by my brain carried off to His perception by the current formed by Him. This, if the letter is in a language I know; otherwise, if it is in an unknown tongue.

2) To unseal it, read it physically with my eyes, without understanding even the words, and that which my eyes see is carried off to the Master's perception and reflected in it in His own language, after which to be sure no mistake is made, I have to burn the letter with a stove I have (matches and common fire would never do) and the ashes caught by the current become more minute than atoms


would be, and are re-materialised at any distance where the Master may be. (Neff, Personal Memoirs of H. P. Blavatsky. p. 151)

In addition to this description of the modus operandi of the precipitation of letters, we have one from Mr. Sinnett, who received so many such letters - presumably given him directly by a Master:

Those having even a superficial knowledge of the science of mesmerism know how the thoughts of the mesmeriser, though silently formulated in his mind, are instantly transferred to that of the subject. It is not necessary for the operator, if he is sufficiently powerful, to be present near the subject to produce the above result. Some celebrated practitioners in this science are known to have been able to put their subjects to sleep even from a distance of several days' journey. This known fact will serve as a guide in comprehending the comparatively unknown subjects now under discussion. The work of writing the letters in question is carried on by a sort of psychological telegraphy; the Mahatmas very rarely write their letters in the ordinary way. An electro-magnetic connection, so to say, exists on the psychological plane between a Mahatma and his chelas, one of whom acts as his amanuensis. When the Master wants a letter to be written in this way, he draws the attention of a chela, whom he selects for the task, by causing an astral bell (heard by so many of our Fellows and others) to be rung near him just as the despatching telegraph office signals to the receiving office before wiring the message. The thoughts arising in the mind of the Mahatma are then clothed in word, pronounced mentally, and forced along the astral currents he sends towards the pupil to impinge on the brain of the latter. Thence they are borne by the nerve currents to the palms of his hand and the tips of his fingers, which rest on a piece of magnetically prepared paper. As the thought-waves are thus impressed on the tissue, materials are drawn to it from the ocean of akas (permeating every atom of the sensuous universe), by


an occult process, out of place here to describe, and permanent marks are left.

From this it is abundantly clear that the success of such writing as above described depends chiefly upon these things: (1) the force and clearness with which the thoughts are propelled, and (2) the freedom of the receiving brain from disturbance of every description. The case with the ordinary electric telegraph is exactly the same. If, for some reason or other, the battery SUpplying the electric power falls below the requisite strength on any telegraph line or there is some derangement in the receiving apparatus, the message transmitted becomes either mutilated or otherwise imperfectly legible.

The telegram sent to England by Reuter's agent at Simla on the classification of the opinions of Local Governments on the Criminal Procedure Amendment Bill, which excited so much discussion, gives us a hint as to how inaccuracies might arise in the process of precipitation. Such inaccuracies, in fact, do very often arise as may be gathered from what the Mahatma says in the above extract. "Bear in mind," says He, "that these my letters are not written but impressed. or precipitated, and then all mistakes corrected."

(C. W. Vol. VI., 118-121, or Theosophist. Vol. V ., p. 64)

Sometimes the initiate will use a precipitation method just to copy a document for himself.

I have often seen M___ sit with a book of most elaborate Chinese characters that he wanted to copy, and a blank book before him, and he would put a pinch of black-lead dust before him and then rub it in slightly on the page; and then over it precipitate ink; and then, if the image of the characters was all right and correct in his mind, the characters copied would be all right, and if he happened to be interrupted then there would be a blunder and the work would be spoilt.

(B.L.S. p. 32)

In one of the letters to Mr. Sinnett, the Master himself gives us a description of the method of precipitation. This description is


important because of its reference to a similar process which takes place in nature when the pattern of a leaf becomes impressed in tone. Here is an extract from what he said:

I have to think it over, to photograph every word and sentence carefully in my brain before it can be repeated by "precipitation." As the fixing on chemically prepared surfaces of the images formed by the camera requires a previous arrangement within the focus of the object to be represented, for otherwise-as often found in bad photographs-the legs of the sitter might appear out of all proportion with the head, and so on, so we have to first arrange our sentences and impress every letter to appear on paper in our minds before it becomes fit to be read. For the present, it is all I can tell you. When science will have learned more about the mystery of the lithophyl (or lithobiblion) and how the impress of leaves comes originally to take place on stones, then will I be able to make you better understand the process. But you must know and remember one thing: we but follow and servilely copy nature in her works.

(M.L. p. 22)

In this chapter our examples have covered phenomena ranging in kind from astral projection through "apports" to precipitated writing. The examples of astral projection included one of a very uncommon kind, the phantom appearance of the "thought body" of someone whose physical body was hundreds of miles away. This story also introduced us to the psychic counterpart of the fairy tale genii who, when we can summon him, will do our bidding. We also had an example of a psychic transmission and accurate receipt by someone who did not know the language, of a letter being read at the time a great distance away.

Then there was the story of the remarkable rescue by a troop of horsemen sent to a spot, information about which, and concerning the party in danger, was sent and received psychically.

We have had stories of what are now known as apports and psychokinesis. In the examples given it must be noticed, as was pointed out before, that the operator was not in a trance, but was working in full consciousness, doing what she decided should be done.

We have had an example of automatic writing, again with the


operator in full consciousness. We have examples of thought reading and thought transference, with an accuracy and in a degree hardly deemed possible nowadays. We have an instance of the control and use of elementals to produce phenomena of a remarkable kind, such as literally playing with fire and not getting burnt; and lastly we have a description, perhaps very incomplete but outlining the essentials of the process, of the precipitation of long and numerous letters.

In these last two chapters we have introduced the reader to specific examples of spiritualistic and psychic phenomena which, if they can be believed, show something of the nature of the powers and forces, other than those well-known to modern science, in the normally invisible realms of nature.

In the next six chapters we attempt to give some basic information on the nature of these realms and of their principles and processes, as they are both in Nature and in man. There is, of course, the closest affinity between the two.


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