THOUGHT TRANSFERENCE IN ORDINARY EXPERIENCE.
Whether thought-transference is a “relic of a decaying faculty,” or the “germ of a new and fruitful sense,” daily experience in the lives of most furnish abundant evidence of the existence of such a power. My own life has supplied me with abundant evidence of the fact. It is a common occurrence with us for either my wife or I to utter or give expression to the thoughts which, for the time being, occupied the conscious plane in the other. It is possible there may have been, as there has been in some instances, some half phrase uttered or manner shown, which in the one have aroused the thoughts expressed by the other.
It has been our habit for several years to stay at Rothesay during the summer season. As an instance of thought-transference quite common in our experience;—On Saturday, 1st October, 1892, I went to the Revision Court at the Town Hall to hear registration disputes settled between Tory and Gladstonian lawyers. Finding nothing to interest me, I entered into conversation with Mr. Thompson, jeweller and hardware merchant, whom I met in the Court, and went with him to his shop in Montague Street, Rothesay. Standing at his door a short time, I noticed a solitary pair of shamrock earrings, composed of crystal brilliants and gold, lying on a tray, with a number of other earrings, in one of the windows. I inquired the price, as I felt sure Mrs. Coates would be pleased with them. They were packed up in a neat box, and I took them home. At dinner, I gave the box to my wife, who said, “What is this, papa?”
“Open and see,” I replied.
Animated with a little curiosity, she did, and, as soon as she saw the earrings, said, “Thompson’s! Well, papa, that is funny. James (my little son) and I stood at Thompson’s window last night, and I admired these earrings. I thought them so neat, and that they would match my brooch. I thought I would like to have them, and then I thought to myself, no; I will not spend the money. I pointed them out to James, and said to him, I am sure if papa saw them, he would buy them—and here you have brought them home. I cannot tell you how much I prize them.”
My little boy said, “Thought-reading again, papa!” and, with a good laugh, we proceeded to discuss our dinner. Mrs. Coates had not been in the habit of seeing this particular window, and I am not in the habit of buying jewellery.
I record this trifle here, as one of our common experiences, and I am satisfied similar experiences are common to all.
Another experience is the anticipation of letters and their contents. This is most frequent in the morning, just before rising. I frequently see the letters and the shape of the envelope and style of address before I actually see the letters on my consulting table.
The most common experience of all is recognised by the adage, “Think of the Devil, and he will appear.” I have noted this in particular. Sitting at the table, there is “popped” into my mind a thought of someone. I will remark, “I think Mr. or Mrs. —— will be here to-day,” and they come. Certainly, all who have come in this way have been relatives or friends; and although they appear subsequent to the thought of them, the evidence in favour of thought-transference may not be esteemed conclusive. I say it is a common experience. I don’t think we should despise any experience, because it is common. To be common, indicates there is a basis, amounting to a psychic law, to account for its existence.
Another common experience is the crossing of letters. One person suddenly recollects “So-and-so;” and writes them a letter excusing delay in writing, retailing news, and in all probability writing on some subject more particularly than on others. Strange to say, the person you have written to, has also been engaged writing to you about the same time and on similar subjects. Both have possibly posted their letters at such a time that the delivery has been crossed. I do not say this proves anything; yet I cannot help thinking the experience is too frequent to be accounted for by the usual explanation of accident or coincidence.
Mark Twain’s article on “Mental Telegraphy” is fresh in the minds of most magazine readers. Whether that article had a basis in the writer’s actual experience or not, it is a pretty common experience with most literary men.
“Distance,” says Mr. Tuttle, “has inappreciable influence on the transference of thought. It may take place in the same room, or where the two persons are thousands of miles apart. As a personal experience, I will relate one of many similar incidents which have awakened my attention to this wonderful phenomenon. Sitting by my desk one evening, suddenly as a flash of light, the thought came to write an article for the Harbinger of Light, published at Melbourne, Australia. I had, by correspondence, become acquainted with the editor, W. H. Terry, but there had been no letters passed for many a year. I had not thought of him or his journal for I do not know how long a time, and I was amused at first with the idea of writing on the subject suggested. But the impression was so strong that I prepared and forwarded an article. Nearly two months passed before I received a letter from Mr. Terry, requesting me to write an article on the subject on which I have written; and, making due allowance for time, the date of our letters were the same. In our experience, this crossing of letters answering each other has twice occurred—the second by Mr. Terry answering a request of mine.”
Dr. Charles W. Hidden, of Newburyport, Mass., U.S.A., reports a somewhat similar experience to that of Mark Twain and the above, which was reported in a recent number of the Religio-Philosophical Journal: A very peculiar plot impressed itself upon his mind, and he immediately based a story upon the plot. He read the story to his family, and was about to send it to a publication to which his wife had recently become a subscriber. When the next number arrived he opened it to learn how to forward his manuscript, and great was his surprise to find on the first page a story bearing the title of his own, and a plot almost identical with that which he had written. Parts of the published article appeared word for word. It is needless to add that Dr. Hidden tossed his manuscript into his desk, and it is there yet. His explanation is, that he caught the title and the plot from another, just as Mark Twain caught the plot of the “Big Bonanza” from his friend Simmons.
It would be nigh impossible to illustrate the various phases of thought-transference, ranging, as they do, from the association of ideas which may be aroused by a hint, a half-uttered word, or a gesture, to the unmistakable facts of pure mental transference, and, higher still, to the region of pure psychism, where spirit influences inspire and direct spirit, and thought-bodies are no longer recognised as mere subjective spirits but living and tangible objective personalities, albeit discarnate.
We can say truly with Voltaire, “There is a power that acts within us, without consulting us.”
CHAPTER VI.
Thought-Reading Experiments.
Having satisfactory evidence of the reality of thought-transference, it would be interesting to know if this power or faculty can be cultivated, and if so, how? I propose in this chapter to show how this can be done, and how to give thought-reading entertainments.
Experimental mind-reading may be distinguished, for the sake of study, as the abnormal, the normal, and the spurious.
The abnormal, that which takes place in trance, dream, vision, or which may be the product of artificial somnambulism or of some super-sensitive condition of the nervous system, through disease. We observe thought-transference in these conditions, rather than attempt to cultivate it.
The normal, where the phenomena takes place in the ordinary waking state, without muscular contact.
The spurious mind-reading, so-called, as the result of musculation or contact, but which is, in fact, only muscle-reading.
In both the abnormal and normal, direct transference of thought from mind to mind can only take place when there is the necessary development of psychic activity in the agent or operator, and the equally necessary sensitiveness in the sensitive or percipient.
Classed under muscle-reading are those performances and games in which the sensitive reads not the mind, but some special desire (of those with whom he or she may be placed in contact), by a “careful study of the indications unconsciously given by the agent or operator to the percipient or reader.”
In both abnormal and normal thought-reading, then, are presented innumerable instances of the possession of psychic faculties; in the muscle-reading phase there may be, and it is possible all successful “readers” have, more or less sensitiveness, to take impressions.
To cultivate mind-reading in a sensitive, the operator should first cultivate in himself the habit of projecting mental pictures, and think of things as seen by the eye, rather than as described by words. This is best done by calling to mind a landscape or domestic scene, by conceiving and mentally building up the same, and, by degrees, getting each feature or detail well stamped in his mind.
It is well in the beginning of these experiments to make the scene as simple, and yet as natural and as complete in detail, as possible. For instance, let the operator think of such a picture as this:—A bright little landscape, having a well-defined cottage on the left, just on the margin of a small lake; boat with two figures in the foreground; rising bank upon the right; and a little higher up a defined windmill, well thrown out by the perspective of blue-ridged and undulating mountains, and sky in the background.
The agent, having satisfied himself of his sensitive’s whole or partial powers of psychic perception, might ask:—“Do you see anything now?” and quickly and deliberately go to work, meanwhile formulating definitely such a picture as the above; even allowing himself to get into ecstacies over the scene—peopling the cottage and the mill, and introducing imaginary conversation between the individual dwellers therein, and so on. The sensitive will describe the whole as the same is felt or perceived. This experiment may appear to some to be impossible, but the word impossible belongs to the limitations of sense, and not to the range of the things possible to the human spirit.
Some sensitives and mediums take impressions from their surroundings—their clairvoyant revelations are often nothing more than so much Mind-reading. Nothing more; but this nothing more is a great deal. Certainly, it may not prove the existence of spirit, apart from the sensitive’s own powers; but it does prove that man has other avenues of knowledge than those with which he is usually credited.
The development of mind-reading in the psychic states may be encouraged by a little judicious assistance or direction. Invite the sensitive to pay attention to So-and-so; to visit places, to examine rooms, or describe people whom the sensitive has never seen. But the places, the rooms, and the persons must be distinctly in the minds of those persons, or agents, with whom he or she is placed in rapport.
During these experiments the sensitive will say, “I see this,” or describe that other, as if he actually saw. Hence the infinitely close relationship of mind-reading to clairvoyance. Thought-reading in spiritualism will be referred to in the next chapter.
Once possessing a good sensitive, the development of the power, as a matter of fact, lies particularly in the operator’s ability to concentrate and focus his thoughts—to think clearly, calmly, vividly, and distinctly himself—and to deliberately and conscientiously project the same.