It is difficult to prevent the discussion of Psychic questions from assuming more or less a religious aspect. The reason for this is that all systems of religion are based on Spiritual existence, and from views of that life, true or false, draw their vital sustenance. The moment it dawns upon the mind of an investigator, that in the facts and laws which come under his observation there are expressed forces unknown to the physicist; that beyond, dimly seen, there is an intimation of intelligent, yet impalpable beings, he is conscious of his own high destiny, and the necessity of conforming mortal life to it.
The inquiry of the student becomes the seed-bed for the propagation of religious thought. Herein this domain is unlike all others, for the outcome of research within its limits, is the last fruitage of Ethical Systems.
Imperfect understanding, as that of the savage, blindly feeling without comprehending, yields the rank growth of superstition; while scientific and philosophic investigation yield the most refined morality.
The preceding pages show the important part the sensitive holds in the manifestations and study of psychic phenomena. The true position of the psychic individual is not appreciated, even by those who have given the subject much attention.
While in the preceding discussions I have spoken in the impersonal mode, I wish to add my testimony from years of experience, as a sensitive. I do this because it forms a somewhat necessary preface to the narrative which follows.
The mass of mankind understand the delicacy of the conditions which go to make up the sensitive subject; of the acuteness with which the nervous system is strung; its keen susceptibility to pain and pleasure, about as well as the illiterate boor comprehends the chemical tension of the plate in the camera or the subtile ways of electricity. To be a sensitive is to have at times the light of heaven in the heart, and at others the darkness of despair. A thousand influences are always acting, and the brain of the sensitive receives them all, trembles to their vibrations, and finds resistance to them an effort most exhaustive of vitality.
In this state of tension, disagreeable objects, opposing words, or antagonisms which ordinarily would pass unfelt and unnoticed, strike with rude hand, and give excruciating torture. The presence of an object or person may be sufficient to antagonize or destroy all ethereal influences. I know of nothing that may be compared with the acute depression of the mind after such experiences, which corresponds to the preceding exaltation. While the sensitive is receiving a flood of inspiration he breaths an atmosphere of delight, and lives in an ideal world. Earth and its cares sink out of memory, and the mind is ennobled and purified. When the inspiration departs, the rosy light fades out of the spiritual vision, and the mortal eyes open to the cold, gray rays of earth-life. How drear and sordidly selfish, poor and unprofitable existence seems to him then.
After the flood of inspiration comes its ebb; the valley of despond, after the heights of Alpine splendor. Melancholy and depression of spiritual energy may produce physical disturbance, which runs its swift course to death. Recognizing these facts, the position of the sensitive can not be regarded as desirable, unless the laws of the sensitive state are well known, and the subject learns to protect himself against injurious and painful conditions; even if he does this unexpectedly, conditions will arise and confront him, for those who are his nearest and dearest friends know nothing about the acuteness of his feelings, and may unconsciously produce the very effects they seek to avoid.
The sensitive becomes painfully conscious of a double life, for the psychic is so different from the common state, that the mind receives impressions as from two distinct conditions of existence. One is physical, held in common with the brutes, with physical enjoyments and desires for eating, drinking, and the passions; the other is the psychical, which lives above and beyond the cares of life, and dwells in an ideal realm of purity. One is the night and the other the day. In order to dwell on earth these two lives must be united. The physical body has its imperative needs, which must be satisfied, as the just condition of spiritual growth. There is less imperative demand for spiritual sustenance. So soon as the body has been supplied, mental lethargy supervenes, and desires to tyrannize; physical life overlaps and conceals the spiritual, and men live the life of beasts. At other times the spiritual gains such complete ascendency that this world is forgotten in a blaze of ideality. An equilibrium between these states is the most desirable, but difficult to maintain.