In Search of the Miraculous

Again a wondering glance—"I do not want anything."

"But think, what would you like?"

On the small table beside him there stood an unfinished glass of tea. He gazed at it

for a long time as though considering something. He glanced around him twice, then

again looked at the glass, and said in such a serious voice and with such serious

intonations that we all looked at one another:

"I think I should like some raspberry jam."

"Why are you questioning him?" said a voice from the corner which we hardly

recognized.

This was the second "experiment."

"Can you not see that he is asleep?"

"And you yourself?" asked one of us.

"I, on the contrary, have woken up."

"Why has he gone to sleep while you have woken up?"

"I do not know."

With this the experiment ended.

Neither of them remembered anything the next day. G. explained to us that with the

first man everything that constituted the subject of his ordinary conversation, of his

alarms and agitation, was in personality. And when his personality was asleep

practically nothing remained. In the personality of the other there was also a great deal of undue talkativeness but behind the personality there was an essence which knew as

much as the personality and knew it better, and when personality went to sleep

essence took its place to which it had a much greater right.

"Note that contrary to his custom he spoke very little," said G. "But he was observing all of you and everything that was taking place, and nothing escaped him."

"But of what use is it to him if he also does not remember?" said one of us.

"Essence remembers," said G., "personality has forgotten. And this was necessary because otherwise personality would have perverted everything and would have

ascribed all this to itself."

"But this is a kind of black magic," said one of us. "Worse," said G. "Wait and you will see worse than that"

When speaking of "types" G. once said:

"Have you noticed what a tremendous part 'type' plays in the relationship between

man and woman?"

"I have noticed," I said, "that throughout his whole life every man comes into contact with women of a definite type and every woman comes into contact with men

of a definite type. As though .the type of woman for every man had been

predetermined and the type of man predetermined for every woman."

"There is a good deal of truth in that," said G. "But in that form it is, of course, much too general. Actually you did not see types of men and women but types of

events. What I speak of refers to the real type, that is to say, to essence. If people were to live in essence one type would always find the other type and wrong types would

never come together. But people live in personality. Personality has its own interests

and its own tastes which have nothing in common with the interests and the tastes of

essence. Personality in our case is the result of the wrong work of centers. For this

reason personality can dislike precisely what essence likes—and like what essence

does not like. Here is where the struggle between essence and personality begins.

Essence knows what it wants but cannot explain it. Personality does not want to hear

of it and takes no account of it. It has its own desires. And it acts in its own way. But its power does not continue beyond that moment. After that, in some way or other, the

two essences have to live together. And they hate one another. No sort of acting can

help here. In one way or another essence or type gains the upper hand and decides.

"In this case nothing can be done by reason or by calculation. Neither can so-called love help because, in the real meaning of the word, mechanical man cannot love—with

him it loves or it does not love.

"At the same time sex plays a tremendous role in maintaining the mechanicalness of

life. Everything that people do is connected with 'sex': politics, religion, art, the

theater, music, is all 'sex.' Do you think people go to the theater or to church to pray or to see some new play? That is only for the sake of appearances. The principal thing, in

the theater as well as in church, is that there will be a lot of women or a lot of men.

This is the center of gravity of all gatherings. What do you think brings people to

cafés, to restaurants, to various fetes? One thing only. Sex: it is the principal motive force of all mechanicalness. All sleep, all hypnosis, depends upon it.

"You must try to understand what I mean. Mechanicalness is especially dangerous

when people try to explain it by something else and not by what it really is. When sex

is clearly conscious of itself and does not

cover itself up by anything else it is not the mechanicalness about which I am

speaking. On the contrary sex which exists by itself and is not dependent on anything

else is already a great achievement. But the evil lies in this constant self-deception!"

"What then is the deduction; should it be so or should it be changed?" asked

someone.

G. smiled.