“Then,” I answered, “the author should have said, though it is less poetical, ‘cleansed from the prejudice against the flesh.’ I would agree with that.”
Virginia again suggested the subject of animal consciousness, by telling Mark Twain’s story of the cat and the Christian Scientist. Ruth said that just now she was studying this subject.
Florence asked: “Do you believe jelly-fish are conscious?”
I reminded them of Cope’s theory of consciousness and desire as the cause of life, and of the higher consciousness swamping the lower. They remembered it, and were interested. Virginia said: “It is like the stars, which are always there, but cannot be seen when the sun shines.”
“Yes,” I answered, “the light of our larger consciousness hides those lesser feelings.”
We spoke of other religions and creeds, and Henry used the term—referring to Unitarianism—“a mild form of Christianity.”
Marian asked me whether mine was an absolute belief in an absolute truth.
“Because,” she said, “I don’t believe any one can find the absolute truth.”
“You must see,” I answered, “that I believe in a growing truth. Why else had we called ourselves Seekers? And I believe we will be seekers all our lives. All I have given you is a direction.”
“I am not sure,” answered she, “that I want just one direction.”