When I first came out here [the world of spirits], I was so interested in what I saw that I did not question much, as to the manner of the seeing.
But lately, especially since writing the last letter, or two, I have begun to notice a difference between objects that at a superficial glance seem to be of much the same substance.
For example, I can sometimes see a difference between those things, which have existed on earth unquestionably, such as the forms of men and women, and other things, which, while visualised and seemingly palpable, may be, and probably are, but thought-creations.
This idea came to me while looking on at the dramas of the heaven country, and it was forced upon me with greater power while making other and recent explorations in that which I have called the pattern world.
Later, I may be able to distinguish at a glance between these two classes of seeming objects.
For example, if I encounter here a being, or what seems a being, and if I am told that it is some famous character in fiction, such as Jean Valjean in Hugo’s Les Misérables, I shall have reason to believe that I have seen a thought-form of sufficient vitality to stand alone, as a quasi-entity, in this world of tenuous matter.
So far I have not encountered any such characters.
Of course, unless I were able to hold converse with a being, a form, or saw others do so, I could not positively state that it had an essential existence.
Hereafter, I shall often put things to the test in this way.
If I can talk to a seeming entity, and if it can answer me, I am justified in considering it as a reality.
A character in fiction, or any other mental creation, however vivid as a picture, would have no soul—no unit of force—no real self.
Whatever comes to me merely as a picture, I shall try to submit to this test.
If I see a peculiar form of tree or animal and can touch and feel it, for the senses here are quite as acute as those of earth, I know that it exists in the subtle matter of this plane.
I believe that all the beings whom I have seen here are real, but if I can find one that is not, a being, which I cannot feel when I touch it, and which cannot respond to my questions, I shall have a datum for my hypothesis that thought-forms of beings, as well as things, may have sufficient cohesion to seem real.
It is undoubtedly true that there is no spirit without substance, no substance without spirit—latent or expressed—but a painting of a man may seem at a distance to be a man.
Can there exist deliberate thought-creations here—deliberate and purposive creations?
I believe so.
Such a thought-form would probably have to be very intense in order to persist.
It seems to me that I had better settle this question to my own satisfaction before talking any more about it.
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