“Padre, the real things are the things we don’t see. And the things we think we see are not real at all!”
Josè had ere this learned not to deny her rugged statements, but to study them for their inner meaning, which the child often found too deep for her limited vocabulary to express.
“The things we think we see,” he said, though he was addressing his own thought, “are called the physical. The things we do not see or cognize with the physical senses are called mental, or spiritual. Well?” he queried, looking down again into the serious little face.
“Padre, the very greatest things are those that we don’t see at all!”
“True, chiquita. Love, life, joy, knowledge, wisdom, health, harmony––all these are spiritual ideas. The physical sometimes manifests them––and sometimes does not. And in the end, called death, it ceases altogether to manifest them.”
“But––these things––the very greatest things there are––are the souls of everything––is it not so, Padre dear?”
“It must be, chiquita.”
“And all these things came from God, and He is everywhere, and so He is the soul of everything, no?”
He made the same affirmative reply.
“Padre––don’t you see it?––we are not seeing things all around us! We don’t see real things that we call trees and stones and people! We see only what we think we see. We see things that are not there at all! We see––”