In Search of the Miraculous

before. There could be no doubt about it and although I afterwards became the same

as I had been before I could not help knowing that this had been and I could forget nothing.

One thing I understood even then with undoubted clarity, that no phenomena of a

higher order, that is, transcending the category of ordinary things observable every

day, or phenomena which are sometimes called "metaphysical," can be observed or investigated by ordinary means, in an ordinary state of consciousness, like physical phenomena. It is a

complete absurdity to think that it is possible to study phenomena of a higher order

like "telepathy," "clairvoyance," foreseeing the future, mediumistic phenomena, and so on, in the same way as electrical, chemical, or meteorological phenomena are

studied. There is something in phenomena of a higher order which requires a

particular emotional state for their observation and study. And this excludes any possibility of "properly conducted" laboratory experiments and observations.

I had previously arrived at the same conclusions after experiments of my own

described in the New Model of the Universe in the chapter "Experimental Mysticism,"

but now I understood the reason why this was impossible.

The second interesting conclusion that I came to is much more difficult to describe.

It relates to a change which I noticed in certain of my views, in certain formulations of my aims, desires, and aspirations. Many aspects of this became clear to me only

afterwards. And afterwards I saw clearly that it was at this time that certain very

definite changes began in my views on myself, on those around me, and particularly

on "methods of action," if this can be said without more precise definition. To describe the changes themselves is very difficult. I can only say that they were not in

any way connected with what was said in Finland but that they had come as a result of the emotions which I had experienced there. The first thing I could record was the

weakening in me of that extreme individualism which up to that time had been the

fundamental feature in my attitude to life. I began to see people more, to feel my

community with them more. And the second thing was that somewhere very deep

down inside me I understood the esoteric principle of the impossibility of violence,

that is, the uselessness of violent means to attain no matter what. I saw with undoubted

clarity, and never afterwards did I wholly lose this feeling, that violent means and

methods in anything whatever would unfailingly produce negative results, that is to say, results opposed to those aims for which they were applied. What I arrived at was

like Tolstoi's non-resistance in appearance but it was not at all non-resistance because

I had reached it not from an ethical but from a practical point of view; not from the

standpoint of what is better or what is worse but from the standpoint of what is more effective and expedient.

The next time G. came to St. Petersburg was in the beginning of September. I tried

to question him about what had actually occurred in Finland—was it true that he had

said something that had frightened me, and why had I been frightened?

"If that was the case it means you were not ready," said G.

He explained nothing further.

On this visit the center of gravity of the talks was in the "chief feature" or "chief fault" of each one of us.

G. was very ingenious in the definition of features. I realized on this occasion that

not everyone's chief feature could be defined. With some people this feature can be so

hidden beneath different formal manifestations as to be almost impossible to find. And

then a man can consider himself as his chief feature just as I could call my chief feature "Ouspensky" or, as G. always called it, "Piotr Demianovich." Mistakes there cannot be because the "Piotr Demianovich" of each person forms so to speak "round his chief feature."

Whenever anyone disagreed with the definition of his chief feature given by G. he

always said that the fact that the person disagreed with him showed that he was right.

"I disagree only with what you say is actually my chief feature," said one of our people. "The chief feature which I know in myself is very much worse. But I do not

dispute that people may see me as you describe."

"You know nothing in yourself," G. told him; "if you knew you would not have that feature. And people certainly see you in the way I told you. But you do not see how

they see you. If you accept what I told you as your chief feature you will understand

how people see you. And if you find a way to struggle with this feature and to destroy

it, that is, to destroy its involuntary manifestation" (G. emphasized these words), "you will produce on people not the impression that you do now but any impression you

like."

With this began long talks about the impressions that a man produces on other