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Fan, issue 2, July 1945
Page 15
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15 that moment. Toward this end, perhaps, he launched into a sudden explanation of himself! His background was of sound pioneer stock. He had been well educated. With his seemingly natural insight and scientific perception, he had become at least an acknowledged figure, if not leader, as a scientist-philosopher. Perhaps he would never become a leader, because he called himself a mystic as well. He had streaks of wildness. He had published his treatises on the probabilities of other worlds -- dimensional worlds -- in connection with his serious study of Vibration, the basis of all matter. So plausibly did he present his theories that few of his contemporaries dared dispute or discredit them. Consequently they ignored him. "Storms," he echoed. "Storms that react within me like a catalyst that a chemist uses in his experiments. Like the storm outside at the present moment. It tears at my being, hurries my thoughts and stirs my mind until I possess a spirit of exaltation, a feeling that I can accomplish incredible things! It causes me to hear things, as though it were dashing away a muffler from my ears. And the things I hear are music. It is always violin music, yet so unutterably beautiful that I'm sure it cannot be of this world!" He stopped, with a little sob in his voice. Already, to myself, I was diagnosing him, but I said not a word as I waited for him to go on. "And just as Storm causes me to hear things," he almost whispered, "so does Fire cause me to see things! As though Fire were the gateway to other dimensions, other existing planes! And might it not be? Hasn't it the power to transmute a block of wood into another state of being -- heat-energy, vibration, the vibration that is matter itself? There are times when I am tempted to cast myself into the flames and try to reach the things I see beyond those flames -- vague distances of another world, a grassy vista across which comes the approaching sound of a violin -- always the same violin. . . "Tell me, doctor, I must be mad. Isn't it true? Or is it that I am physically constituted unlike other people, in that my ears and eyes actually see and hear vibrations out of our plane. Is it all of my mind, or have I that power?" His latter words were delivered pell-mell in the stress of his mental torture, his manner harried as if all the fearsof hell beset him. AS FOR me, I was speechless. I could not answer the poor man's questions. A new and somewhat staggering thought had presented itself -- the thought that those whom we call mad, those who see and hear things when there is naught to see and hear, might have a different physical mechanism of their eyes and ears enabling them to contact vibrations beyond the known---
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15 that moment. Toward this end, perhaps, he launched into a sudden explanation of himself! His background was of sound pioneer stock. He had been well educated. With his seemingly natural insight and scientific perception, he had become at least an acknowledged figure, if not leader, as a scientist-philosopher. Perhaps he would never become a leader, because he called himself a mystic as well. He had streaks of wildness. He had published his treatises on the probabilities of other worlds -- dimensional worlds -- in connection with his serious study of Vibration, the basis of all matter. So plausibly did he present his theories that few of his contemporaries dared dispute or discredit them. Consequently they ignored him. "Storms," he echoed. "Storms that react within me like a catalyst that a chemist uses in his experiments. Like the storm outside at the present moment. It tears at my being, hurries my thoughts and stirs my mind until I possess a spirit of exaltation, a feeling that I can accomplish incredible things! It causes me to hear things, as though it were dashing away a muffler from my ears. And the things I hear are music. It is always violin music, yet so unutterably beautiful that I'm sure it cannot be of this world!" He stopped, with a little sob in his voice. Already, to myself, I was diagnosing him, but I said not a word as I waited for him to go on. "And just as Storm causes me to hear things," he almost whispered, "so does Fire cause me to see things! As though Fire were the gateway to other dimensions, other existing planes! And might it not be? Hasn't it the power to transmute a block of wood into another state of being -- heat-energy, vibration, the vibration that is matter itself? There are times when I am tempted to cast myself into the flames and try to reach the things I see beyond those flames -- vague distances of another world, a grassy vista across which comes the approaching sound of a violin -- always the same violin. . . "Tell me, doctor, I must be mad. Isn't it true? Or is it that I am physically constituted unlike other people, in that my ears and eyes actually see and hear vibrations out of our plane. Is it all of my mind, or have I that power?" His latter words were delivered pell-mell in the stress of his mental torture, his manner harried as if all the fearsof hell beset him. AS FOR me, I was speechless. I could not answer the poor man's questions. A new and somewhat staggering thought had presented itself -- the thought that those whom we call mad, those who see and hear things when there is naught to see and hear, might have a different physical mechanism of their eyes and ears enabling them to contact vibrations beyond the known---
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