第8部分(第6/7 頁)

there　that　they　do　in　material　space。　I　declare　that　for　me

branched　thoughts；　instead　of　pines；　wave；　sway；　rustle；　make　musical

the　ridges　of　mountains　rising　summit　upon　summit。　Mention　a　rose　too

far　away　for　me　to　smell　it。　Straightway　a　scent　steals　into　my

nostril；　a　form　presses　against　my　palm　in　all　its　dilating　softness；

with　rounded　petals；　slightly　curled　edges；　curving　stem；　leaves

drooping。　When　I　would　fain　view　the　world　as　a　whole；　it　rushes　into

vision……man；　beast；　bird；　reptile；　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；　prehensive　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　bli