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He Was Haunted By an Invisible Presence!
The facts which I am about to relate happened to myself some sixteen or eighteen years ago, at which time I was still young enough to enjoy a life of constant travelling. There are, indeed, many less agreeable ways in which an unbeneficent parson may contrive to scorn delights and live laborious days. In remote places where strangers are scarce, his annual visit is an important evet; and though at the close of a long day’s work he would sometimes prefer the quiet of a Victorian mansion, he generally finds himself the destined guest of the rector or the squire. It rests with himself to turn these opportunities to account. If he makes himself pleasant, he forms agreeable friendships and sees Victorian home-life under one of its most attractive aspects; and sometimes, even in these days of universal common-placeness, he may have the luck to meet with an adventure. My first appointment was to Llanda Villa ; which was largely peopled with my personal friends and connections. It was, therefore, much to my annoyance that I found myself, after a could of years very pleasant work, transferred to a new teaching position. I now spent half my time in hired vehicles and lonely country inns. I had been in possession of this position for some three months or so, and winter was near at hand, when I paid my first visit of inspection to the Winchester mansion. It was a dull, raw afternoon of mid-November, growing duller and more raw as the day waned and the east wind blew keener. I found the foot path without difficulty. It led me across a barren slope divided by stone fences, with here and there a group of smaller Victorian houses and gazebos. #RandolphHarris 1 of 14
A light fog, meanwhile, was creeping up from the east, and the dusk was gathering fast. Now, to lose one’s way on such an expansive ranch and at such an hour would be disagreeable enough, and the footpath—a trodden track already half obliterated—would be indistinguishable enough in the course of another ten minutes, but the nine story look out tower, a top the mansion, stood erect as a compass guiding visitors to the bizarre and beautiful rambling mansion. Looking anxiously ahead, up to this moment, I had not met a living soul. However, then I saw a man emerging from the fog and coming along the path. As we neared each other—I advancing rapidly; he slowly—I observed that he dragged the left foot, limping as he walked. It was, however, so dark and so misty, that not till we were within half a dozen yards of each other could I see that he wore a dark suit and an Anglican felt hat, and looked something like a dissenting minister. As soon as we were within speaking distance, I addressed him. “Can you tell me, I said, about how much longer it will take to get to the Winchester mansion?” He came on, looking straight before him; taking no notice of my question; apparently not hearing it. “I beg your pardon,” I said, raising my voice; “but how much longer will it take on this path to get to the Winchester?” He had passed on without pausing; without looking at me; I could almost have believed, without seeing me! I stopped, with the words on my lips; then turned to look after—perhaps, to follow—him. But instead of following, I stood betwixted. What had become of him? #RandolphHarris 2 of 14
And what lad was that going up the path by which I had just come—that tall lad, half-running, half-walking, with a fishing-rod over his shoulder? I could have taken my oath that I had neither met nor passed him. Where then had he come from? And where was the man to whom I had spoken not three seconds ago and who, at his limping pace, could have made more than a couple of yards in the time? My stupefaction was such that I stood quite still, looking after the lad with the fishing-rod till he disappeared in the gloom under the park-palings. Was I dreaming? Darkness, meanwhile, had closed in apace, and, dreaming or not dreaming, I must push on, or find myself benighted. So I hurried forward, turning my back on the last gleam of daylight, and plunging deeper into the fog at every step. I was, however, close upon my journey’s end. The path ended at a turnstile; the turnstile opened upon a steep lane; and at the bottom of the land, down which I stumbled among stones and ruts, I came in sight of the welcome glare of a blacksmith’s forge. Here, then, was the Winchester. I found myself at the door of the Winchester mansion. When I was sitting in the cozy drawing room, I saw Mrs. Winchester, and she looked like an angel. Spreading loveliness everywhere, over all with whom she came in touch, over good and evil. When a small number of people often come together in the same room, a tradition readily develops as to where each individual has one’s place, one’s station; it becomes a kind of picture a person can unroll for oneself when one so desires, a map of the terrain. So it is also with us in the Winchester mansion—together we form a picture. We were to drink tea here this evening. #RandolphHarris 3 of 14
Mrs. Winchester strives for an air of mystery. She wants to whisper and usually does it so well that she becomes entirely mute; I make no secret of my effusions to Merriam, her niece, an estimate of how many quarts of milk it takes for one pound of butter through the medium of cream and the dialectic of the butter churn. Indeed, it is not only something any young girl can listen to without hard, but, what is far more unusual, it is a solid and fundamental and edifying conversation that is equally ennobling to the head and the heart. And is no nature magnificent and wise in what she produces, what a precious gift is butter, what a glorious accomplishment of nature and art! It is a curious picture we make together. Mrs. Winchester almost vanishes before our eyes in pure agronomy; we go into the kitchen and the cellars, up into the attic, look at the chicken and ducks, geese et cetera. This was fascinating to me. But it could just be that I was the kind of young man who became old prematurely; it is possible. I sat late over the fire, and by the time I went to bed, I had well nigh forgotten my adventure with the man who vanished so mysteriously and the boy who seemed to come from nowhere. Next morning, finding I had abundant time at my disposal. What a reinvigorating power I felt from the Winchester—not the freshness of the morning air, not the sighing of the wind, not the coolness of the sea, not the fragrance of wine, its aroma—nothing in the World has this reinvigorating power. In this way the days go by. Mrs. Winchester seemed perfect happy in her mansion. Her bedroom faced the courtyard. Sometimes she stands on the balcony for a moment, and at night she looks up at the stars, unseen by all. #RandolphHarris 4 of 14
In these nocturnal hours, I walk around like a ghost. Then I forget everything, have no plans, no reckonings, cast understanding overboard, expand and fortify my chest with deep sighs, a motion I need in order not to suffer from my systematic conduct. Others are virtuous by day, sin at night; I am dissimulation by day—at night I am sheer inspiration. When I notice it, far off on the horizon there comes a flashing intimation from a quite different World, to the astonishment of Mrs. Winchester as well as Merriam. Mrs. Winchester sees the lightning but hears nothing; Merriam hears the voice but sees nothing. However, at the same moment everything is in its quiet order; the conversation between Mrs. Winchester and me proceeds in its uniform way, like post horses in the stillness of the night the; the sad hum of the samovar accompanies it. At such moments, it can sometimes be uncomfortable in the drawing room, especially for Merriam. She has no one she can talk with or listen to. I can well understand that it must seem to Merriam as if Mrs. Winchester were bewitched, so perfectly does she move to the tempo of my rhythm. She cannot participate in this conversation either, because one of the means I have also used to outrage her is that I allow myself to treat her just like a child. It is not as if I for that reason would allow myself any liberties whatever with her, far from it. I well know the upsetting effects such things can have, and the point is that her womanliness must be able to rise up pure and beautiful again. Because of my intimate relationship with Mrs. Winchester, it is easy for me to treat her like a child who has no understanding of the World. #RandolphHarris 5 of 14
Her womanliness is not insulted thereby but merely neutralized, for the fact that she does not know market prices cannot insult her womanliness, but the supposition that this is the ultimate in life can certainly be revolting to her. With my powerful assistance on this scored, Mrs. Winchester is out doing herself. She has become almost fanatic—something she can thank me for. The only thing about me that she cannot stand is that I have no position. Now I have adopted the habit of saying whenever a vacancy in some office is mentioned: “There is a position for me,” and thereupon discuss it very gravely with her. Merriam always perceives the irony, which is precisely what I want. The butler came in with more tea. I saw that he was lame. In the moment I remembered him. He was the man I met in the fog. “I met you yesterday afternoon, Mr. Brunton,” I said, as we went into the library. “Yesterday afternoon, sir?” He repeated. “You did not seem to observe me,” I said, carelessly. “I spoke to you, in fact; but you did not reply to me.” “But—indeed, I beg your parson, sir—it must have been someone else,” said the butler. “I did not go out yesterday afternoon.” How could this be anything but a falsehood? I might have been mistaken as to the man’s face; though it was such a singular face, and I had seen it quite plainly. However, how could I be mistaken as to his lameness? Besides, that curious trailing of the right foot, as if the ankle was broken, was not an ordinary lameness. I suppose I looked incredulous, for he added, hastily. “Even if I had not been preparing dinner for inspection, sire, I should not have gone out yesterday afternoon. It was too damp and foggy. I am obliged to be careful—I have a very delicate chest.” #RandolphHarris 6 of 14
My dislike to the man increased with every word he uttered. I did not ask myself with what motive he want on heaping lie upon lie; it was enough that, to serve his own ends, whatever those ends might be, he did lie with unparalleled audacity. “We will proceed to the examination, Mr. Brunton,” I said, contemptuously. He turned, if possible, a shade paler than before, bent his head silently, and called up the cuisine in their order. Profusely apologizing, he begged leave to occupy five minutes of my valuable time. He wished, under correction, to suggest a little improvement to many the menu more festive. “Under other circumstances…” I stopped and looked round. The butler repeated my last words. “You were saying, sir—under other circumstances?” I looked around again. “I seemed to me that there was someone here,” I said; “some third person, not a moment ago.” “I beg your pardon, sir—a third person?” “I saw his shadow on the ground, between yours and mine.” The mansion faced due north, and we were standing immediately behind it, with our backs to the sun. The place was bare, and open, and high; and our shadows, sharply defined, lay stretched before our feet. “A—a shadow?” he faltered. “Impossible.” There was not a bush or a true within half a mile. There was not a could in the sky. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, that could have cast a shadow. I admitted that t was impossible, and that I must have fancied it; and so went back to the matter of the menu. “Should you see Mrs. Winchester,” I said, “you are at liberty to say that I thought it a desirable improvement.” #RandolphHarris 7 of 14
“I am much obliged to you, sir. Thank you—thank you very much,” he said, cringing at every word. “But—but I had hoped that you might perhaps use your influence”—“Look there!” I interrupted. “Is that fancy?” We were now close under the blank walls of the kitchen. On this wall, laying to the full sunlight, our shadows—mine and the butler’s—were projected. And there too—no longer between his and mine, but a little way apart, as if the intruder were standing back—there, as sharply defined as if cast by line-light on a prepared background, I again distinctly saw, though but for a moment, that third shadow. As I spoke, as I looked round, it was gone! “Did you not see it?” I asked. He shook his head. “I—I saw nothing” he said, faintly. “What was it?” His lips were white. He seemed scarcely able to stand. “But you must have seen it!” I exclaimed. “It fell just there—where that bit of ivy grows. There must be some boy hiding—it was a boy’s shadow, I am confident. “A boy’s shadow!” he echoed, looking round in a wild, frightened way. “There is no place—for a boy—to hide.” “Place or no place,” I said, angrily, “if I catch him, he shall feel the weight of my cane!” I searched backwards and forwards in every direction, the butler, with his scared face, limping at my heels; but, rough and irregular as the ground was, there was not a hole in it big enough to shelter a rabbit. “But what was it?” I said, impatiently. “An—an illusion. Begging your pardon, sir—and illusion.” He looked so like a beaten hound, so frightened, so fawning, that I felt I could with lively satisfaction have transferred the threatened caning to his own shoulders. #RandolphHarris 8 of 14
“But you saw it?” I said, impatiently. “No, sir. Upon my honour, no, sir. I saw nothing—nothing whatever.” His looks belied his words. I felt certain that he had not only seen the shadow, but that he knew more about it than he chose to tell. I was by this time really angry. To be made the object of a boyish trick, and to be hoodwinked by the connivance of the butler, was too much. It was an insult to myself and my office. I scarcely knew what I said; something short and stern at all events. Then, having said it, I turned my back upon Mr. Brunton and the mansion, and walked rapidly back to the village. As I was leaving the Winchester, it was a gloomy evening. I was standing high in the midst of a somber deer-park some six or seven miles in circumference. An avenue of palm trees, which led up to the house looked so lonely. The butler said, “If you would but be persuaded to say a day longer, a new experience awaits you. I will take you down the Winchester shaft, and show you the home of the gnomes and trolls. I am the king of Hades, and rule the under World as well as the upper. There is gold everywhere underlying this mansion. The whole place is honeycombed with shafts and galleries. One of our richest seams runs under this house, and there are upwards of forty men at work in it a quarter of a mile below our feet here every day. Another leads right away under the park, Heaven only knows how far! My father began working it five-and-twenty years ago, and we have gone on working it ever since; yet it shows no sign of failing. That is why Mrs. Winchester is rich enough to commit whatever design follies she pleases; and that is saying a good deal. #RandolphHarris 9 of 14
“But then, to be always squandering money—always building a rambling mansion—always gratifying the impulse of the moment—is that happiness? Mrs. Winchester has been experimenting for several decades; and with what result? Would you like to see?” He snatched up a lamp and led the way through a long suite of unfinished rooms, the floors of which were piled high with packing cases of all sizes and shapes, labelled with the names of various foreign ports and the addresses of foreign agents innumerable. What did they contain? Precious marbles from Italy and Greece and Asia Minor; priceless paintings by old and modern masters; antiquities from the Nile, the Tigris, and the Euphrates; enamels from Persia, porcelain from China, bronzes from Japan, strange sculptures from Peru; arms, mosaics, ivories, wood-carvings, skins, tapestries, old Italian cabinets, painted bride-chess, Etruscan terracottas; treasures of all countries, or all ages, never even unpacked since they crossed that threshold which the mistress’s foot had crossed but twice during the ten years it had taken to buy them! Should she ever open them, ever arrange them, every enjoy them? Perhaps—if she becomes weary of wandering—if she remarried—if she built a gallery to receive them. If not—well, she might found and endow a museum; or leave the things to the nation. What did it matter? Collecting was like fox-hunting; the pleasure in the pursuit, and ended with it!” Breakfast over, we went around the mansion, and saw the men working. Just as we were about to enter an underground tunnel—a tall, slender lad, with a fishing rod across his shoulder, came out rom one of the side doors of the mansion, crossed the open at field, and disappeared among the tree-trunks on the opposite side. I recognized him instantly. It was the boy whom I saw the other day, just after meeting the butler in the meadow. #RandolphHarris 10 of 14
“If the boy think he is going fishing in a fruit orchard,” I said, “he will find out his mistake.” “What boy,” asked Mr. Brunton, looking back. “That boy who crossed over yonder, a minute ago.” “Yonder!—in front of us?” “Certainly. You must have seen him?” “No I.” “You did no see him?—a tall, thin boy, in a grey suit, with a fishing-rod over his shoulder. He disappeared behind those nectarine trees.” Mr. Brunton looked at me with surprise. “You are dreaming!” he said. “No living thing—not even a rabbit—has crossed our path since we left the mansion.” “I am not in the habit of dreaming with my eyes open,” I replied, quickly. He laughed, and put his arm through mine. “Eyes or no eyes,” he said, “you are under an illusion this time!” An illusion—the very word made use of by the butler! What did it mean? Could I, in truth, no longer rely upon the testimony of my senses? A thousand half-formed apprehensions flashed across me in a moment, I remembered the illusions of Nicolini, the bookseller, and other similar cases of visual hallucination, and I asked myself if I has suddenly become afflicted in like manner. “By jove! This is a queer sight!” exclaimed Mr. Brunton. And then I found that we had emerged from the fruit orchard, and were looking down upon the bed of what yesterday was a lake. It was indeed a queer sight—an oblong, irregular basin of the blackest slime, with here and there a sullen pool, and round the margin an irregular fringe of bulrushes. At some little distance along the bank—less than quarter of a mile from where we were standing—a gaping crowd had gathered. All the foremen seemed to turn out to stare. #RandolphHarris 11 of 14
Hats were pulled off and curtsies dropped at Mr. Brunton’s approach. He, meanwhile, came up smiling, with a pleasant word for everyone. “Well,” he said, “are you looking for the lake, my friends?” “I see a log of rotten timber sticking half in and half out of the mud,” one of the men said, “and something—a long reed, apparently…by Jove! I believe it is a fishing rod!” “It is a fishin’ rod, squire,” said the blacksmith with rough earnestness; “an” if yon rotten timber bayn’t an unburied corpse, mun I never stroike hammer on anvil agin!” There was a buzz of acquiescence from the bystanders. ‘Twas an unburied corpse, such enough. Nobody doubted it. “It must have come out, whatever it is, Mr. Brunton said presently. “Five feet of mud, do you say? Then here is a sovereign apiece for the first two fellows who wade through it and bring that object to land!” It was, in truth, an unburied corpse; part of the trunk only above the surface. They tried to life it; but it had been so long under water, and was in so advanced a stage of decomposition, that to bring it to shore without a shutter was impossible. Being cross-questioned, they thought, from the slenderness of the form, that it must be the body of a boy. “There’s the poor chap’s rod, anyhow,” said the blacksmith, laying it gently down upon the turf. Mrs. Winchester was summoned and told of the news. That night she rushed to her blue séance room and demanded the spirits tell her what happened to the boy. “I invoke thee, and move thee, and stir thee up O Spirit Leraikha,” said Mrs. Winchester. “From the 30 Legions of Spirits, appear unto my eyes before the circle in the likeness of a man in and tell me what has happened to this boy!” #RandolphHarris 12 of 14
“The words Adam spoke to God, and all things of water were as blood,” replied the Spirit Leraikha. “In the names Alpha and Omega, I am the God of Secret Truth who liveth forever, the All-Powerful. It is to I, to whom all creatures are obedient and in the Extreme Justice and Anger of God that I withdrawal this veil that is before the glory of God, might; and by the creatures of living breath before the Thone whose eyes are east and west; by the fire in the fire of just Glory of Mine Throne; by the Holy ones of Heaven; and by the secret wisdom of God, I, exalted in power, has been stirred up to cast a vision of the past and make clear the present! The secrets of truth in voice and understanding comes: This is the corpse of a boy of perhaps ten and four or ten and five years of age. There was a fracture three inches long at the back of the skull, evidently fatal. This might, of course, have been an accidental injury; but when the body came to be raised from where it layeth, it was found to be pinned down by a pitchfork, the handle of which had been afterwards whittled off, so as not to show above water, a discovery tantamount to evidence of murder. The features of the victim were decomposed beyond recognition; but enough of the hair remained to show that it has been short and sandy. He had a passion for fishing and was in the habit of slipping away at school-hours, and showed himself the more cunning and obstinate more he was punished. At last there came a day when the butler tracked him to the place his rod was concealed and beat the miserable lad about the head and arms with a heavy stick. Pin through hand and blood was running out of his mouth until he fell insensible and ceased to breathe. He dragged the body among the bulrushes by the water’s edge, and there concealed it as well as he could. #RandolphHarris 13 of 14
“At night, when the neighbours and staff were in bed asleep, he stole out by starlight, taking with him a pitchfork, a coil of rope, a couple of iron-bars, and a knife. He weighted and sunk the corpse, and pinned it down by the neck with his pitchfork. He then cut away the handle of the fork; hid the fishing-rod among the reeds; and believed, as murderers always believe, that discovery was impossible. His dreadful secret had of late become intolerable. He was haunted by an invisible Presence. That Presence sat with him at table, followed him in his walks stood behind him in the mansion, and watched by his side. He never saw it; but he felt that it was always there. Sometimes he raves of a shadow on the walls of this mansion. I have now told you all that there is at present to tell.” When a community looks only for evidence of guilt and ignores or suppresses all contradictory evidence, the result is a witch hunt. Witch hunts are often used to conceal more heinous crimes. And when a witch hunt occurs, which is the very opposite of what was going on in the case of the murdered boy, the community feels itself so beset by evil that it is no longer capable of perceiving the good. The primary causes of witch hunts are clear. It is usually due to corruption, an outbreak of epidemic hysteria which usually ordinates in experiments with the occult. And the hysterical hallucinations of the afflicted persons are confirmed by some concrete evidence of actual witchcraft and by many confessions, the majority of them hysterical. A number of other explanations have been offered, but most of them are more or less unconvincing. It has been argued that the outbreak is usually due to some new religion. Typically a kind of insanity resulting from sexual repression or denying one’s true sexual nature. #RandolphHarris 14 of 14
Winchester Mystery House
It’s a beautiful day for a stroll through the gardens. Today, Winchester Mystery House marks 99 years since our lady of mystery, Sarah Winchester passed away peacefully in her bedroom of Llanda Villa. We mark her passing with the ringing of the bell 13 times as is our tradition. Thank you Sarah for creating this iconic home that we continue to share with guests from around the world.
🎟️ Link in bio.
A 160-room mansion built to appease the spirits who died at the hands of the Winchester Rifle 👻
🗝 winchestermysteryhouse.com
In a Nightmare of Supernatural Terror—Afraid to Move Hand or Foot II!
Immediately after I sat down…and did see a black thing jump into the window. And it came and stood just before my face. The body of it looked like a monkey, only the feet were like a cock’s feet with claws, and the face somewhat more like a man’s than a monkey’s. And I being greatly affrighted, not being able to speak or help myself by reason of fear, I suppose, so the thing spoke to me and said, “I am a messenger sent to you. For I understand you are troubled in mind, and if you will be ruled by me you shall want for nothing in this World.” I would have cried out—would have shrieked, if every never had not been paralyzed. I could not doubt the evidence of my sense—if I could have done so the cold, unearthy horror which sicked my very soul would have borne its undeniable testimony that I had behold the impersonation of the hidden curse that rested on this dwelling. I stood there rigid and immovable, as if that blighting Medusa-glance had indeed changed me into stone. It may have been but a very few minutes—it seemed to me a cycle of painful ages, when the light of a brightly burning lamp shone before me, and I heard the cheerful sounds of the new nurse’s voice in my ears: “Come along, cook. Bless your heart, my dear! you need not be nervous; there is no occasion. Mrs. Winchester, ma’am, are you not well, ma’am? “No,” I said faintly, staggering to the woman’s outstretched hands. “Not down there—upstairs to the children.” She turned as I bade her, and supported me up the stairs and into the nursery, the cook following close at my skirts, muttering fervent prayers and chants. #RandolphHarris 1 of 13
The sight of the peacefully sleeping little ones did far more to restore me than all the essences and chafing and unlacing which the two women busily administered. I had got suddenly ill when coming upstairs was the explanation I gave, which the cook, plainly perceived, most thoroughly doubted, at least without the cause she suspected being assigned, which, even in the midst of my terror-stricken condition, I refrained from giving, I did not speak to the nurse either of what had happened, but I felt that she knew as well as if she had been by my ide all the time. However, when William returned I told him. Distressed and alarmed on my account though he was, yet he did not, as before, refuse credence to my story. “We must leave the house, William. I should die here very soon,” I said. “Yes, Sarah; of course we must leave if you have anything to distress or terrify you in his manner, though it does seem absurd to be driven out of one’s house and home by a thing of this kind. Someone’s practical joke, or a trick prompted by malice against the owner of the property in order to lessen its value. I have heard of such things often.” “William, it is nothing of the kind,” I said earnestly; “you know it is not.” “No, I do not,” said William shortly and grimly, as he opened his case of revolvers, “and I wish I did.” The night passed away quietly, to our ears at least; but next morning when William had concluded the usual morning prayers, instead of the usual move of the servants, they remained clustered at the door, Jansen with an exceedingly elongated visage standing slightly in advance of the group as a spokesman. #RandolphHarris 2 of 13
“Please, sir and ma’am, we cannot tell you what to do.” “Why, go and do your work,” retorted William, with a nervous tug at his moustache and an uneasy glance at me. Jansen shook his head slowly. “It cannot be done, sir—cannot be done, ma’am. Why, no living Christian, not to speak of humble, but respectable servants,” said Jansen with a flourish, quite unconscious of the nice distinction he had made, “could stand it any longer.” “What is the matter, pray?” said my husband. “Ghosts, sir—spirits—unclean spirits,” said Charles, in an awestruck whisper which was re-echoed in the cook’s “Lor” “a” mercy!” as she dodged back from the doorway with the housemaid holding fast to one of her ample sleeves, and the lady’s maid holding fast to the other. The New nurse, quietly dandling the baby in her arms, was alone unmoved. “What stories have you been listening to now?” said their master, what a slight laugh and a frown. “No stories, sir; but what we have seen with our eyes and understanded with our ears, and—and—comprehended with our hearts,” said Jansen, with an unsuccessful attempt at quoting Scripture. “What was it as walked the floors last night between one and two, sir? What was it as talked and shrieked and run and raced? What was it as frightened the mistress on the stairs last evening?” And the whole posse of them turned to me, triumphantly awaiting my testimony. I was feeling very ill, and looking so, I daresay, having struggled downstairs in order to prevent the servants having any additional confirmation of their surmises. “That is no affair of yours,” said William gravely; “your mistress is in delicate health, and was feeling unwell all day.” #RandolphHarris 3 of 13
“Will you allow me to speak, please, sir?” said the nurse, and, as her maser nodded assent, she turned to the frightened group with a pleasant smile. “You have no cause to be afraid, cook, or Mr. Jensen, or any of you,” said she, addressing the most important functionary first—“not in the least. I am only a servant like the rest, and here a shorter time than any one; but I think you are very foolish to unsettle yourself in a good situation and frighten yourselves. You need not think they will harm you. Fear God and do your duty, and you need not mind wandering, poor, lonely souls—-” “Lor” “a” mercy! ‘ow you talk, Mrs. Lewis!” said the coo indignantly. “I have seen them more times than one—many and many a time, Mrs. Cook; and they never harmed a hair of my head,” said the nurse, “nor they will ever harm your.” “Well, then,” said the cook, packing into the hall, followed by her satellites, “not to be made Cleopatra, nor the Virgin Mary neither, would I stay to be frighted out of my seven senses, and made into a lunatic creature like poor Linda was!” “Please to make better omelettes for luncheon, cook, than you did yesterday,” said William calmly, though he looked pale and angry enough, “and leave me to deal with the ghost—I will settle accounts with them!” The nurse turned quickly and looked earnestly at him: “I would not say that, sir—God forbid,” said she in an undertone, and the next moment was singing softly and blithely as she carried the children away to their morning bath. William and I looked at each other in silence. “I wish we have never come into this house, dear,” I said. “I wish from my heart that we never had, Sarah,” he responded; “but we must manage to stay the season out, at all events. It would be too absurd to run away like frightened hares, not to speak of the expense and trouble we have gone through expanding the mansion to four floors with a nine-story tower.” #RandolphHarris 4 of 13
“We can may get it taken off our hands with a substantial loss, perhaps,” I suggested. “See the house-agent, William.” “I have seen him, but we have one of the largest, and most expansive estates in the country. No one can afford it,” he replied. “He deeply regretted that we should have any occasion to find fault, especially after our huge investment in expanding the estate, and it is not even completed yet. The agent also said he was happy to do anything in the way of clearing up this little mystery, et cetera. Of course he was laughing at me in his sleeve.” Again, as after our previous alarms, says passed on and lengthened into weeks in undisturbed quietude. William had a good many business matters to arrange; the children looked as rosy and healthy as in their country home, from their constant walking and playing in the airy, pleasant parks. My own health was not every good; and Dr. Winchester, William’s cousin, was kindest and wisest of grave, gentlemanly doctors; so, all thing considered, we stay at the Winchester mansion we have build into a 600 room Queen Anne Victorian mansion from an 18-room farmhouse. Only on my husband’s account, I wished for any change. Something seemed to affect his health strangely, although he never complained of anything beyond the usual lassitude and want of a tone which a gay Santa Clara season might be expected to bequeath him. He was sleepless, frequently depressed, nervous, and irritable; and still he vehemently declared he was quite well, and seemed almost annoyed when I urged him to put his business aside for the present and leave town. #RandolphHarris 5 of 13
He had been induced to enter into a large “Highly Finished Arms” promotion and sales of deluxe Winchesters, and had, besides, some heavy money matters to arrange, connected with his sister’s marriage settlements, which he expected would be required about Christmas. So, all things considered, he had some cause for feeling as haggard as he did. “It will be as well for William to leave Santa Clara, Mrs. Winchester, as soon as he can, said his cousin Dr. Winchester at the close of one of his pleasant “run-in” visits. “His nerves are shaky. We men get nervous nearly as often as the ladies, though we do not confess to the fact quite so openly. A little unstrung, you know—nothing more. A few weeks in sea or mountain air will quite brace him up again.” And as I dressed for dinner that evening, I determined that if wifely entreaties, and arguments, and authority, should not fail for the first time in our wedded life, William should have the sea or mountain air without another week’s delay; and, of course I determined, likewise, to back up entreaties, arguments, and authority with the prettiest dress I could put on. I cannot tell why wives, and young wives too, will neglect their personal appearance when “only one’s husband” is present. It is unpolitic, unbecoming, and unloving; and men and husbands do not like neglect—direct or implied, be sure of that, ladies—young, middle-aged, or old. “Your brown silk, ma’am?—it is rather cold this evening for that cream-coloured grenadine,” said Agnus, rustling at my wardrobe. “No, Agnus, I will not have that brown, I am tired of it,” I replied. If so happened that it was this dress which I had worn on the three occasions when I had been terrified by the strange occurrences in this house; and I had acquired a superstition aversion for this particular robe. #RandolphHarris 6 of 13
So Agnus arrayed me in a particularly charming demi-toilette of pale yellow silk grenadine and white lace; and I felt myself to be a most amiable and affectionate little wife, as I went downstairs to await William’s return for dinner. I never sat in my pretty dressing-room alone. Truth to tell, I disliked the apartment secretly and intensely, and only for fear of troubling and displeasing George I would have shut it up from the first evening I spent in it. He was late for dinner, and I was quite shocked to see how thin and ill he looked by the gas-light; and, as soon as it was concluded, and that by the assistance of excellent coffee and a vast amount of petting, I had coaxed him into his usual smiles and good-humour, I began my petition—that he would leave town for his own sake. He listened to me in silence, and then said, “Very well, Sarah, we will go as soon as we can board up the east wing; I suppose you may come back here. “Oh! yes, I think so,” I replied, “maybe someone attracted these bad spirits and we need to let things cool off again. We shall spend Winter in New Haven, in our dear old house, William.” “Very well,” he said wearily, “though you must know, Sarah, I am not going on account of this one thing. I would hardly quit my house, indeed, because of ghostly or bodily sights or sounds.” He started up from the couch on which he was lying, flushed and excited as he always was when the subject was mentioned, his eyes gleaming as brightly as the flashing scabbard which hung on the wall before him. #RandolphHarris 7 of 13
“Certainly not, dearest,” I said soothingly. “I wish I could solve the mystery,” he pursued, more excitedly; “I would make somebody suffer for it! One’s peace destroyed, and people terrified, and servants driven away, as if one was living in the dark ages, with some cursed necromancer next door!” “Oh! well, it is some time ago now, and the servants have got over their fright. Pray, do not distress yourself about it, dear William.” “Ah, well—you do not—never mind,” he muttered; “but I mean to have tangible evidence before ever I leave this house—I have sworn it!” He was not easily roused, and I felt both surprise and alar to see him so now, and for so inadequate a cause. I had almost fancied he had forgotten the matter, as we, by tacit consent, never alluded to it. “Do not you allow yourself to be alarmed, Sarah, that is all I care about,” he went on, pacing the floor. “I have been half mad with anxiety on your account, for fear those idiotic servants should manage to startle you to death some dark evening-cowards, every one of them; but I mean to have someone to stay here and sit up—-” He paused suddenly, and listened, then stepped noiselessly to the door, and opening it, listened again intently. “William,” I whispered. He took no heed of me; but rapidly unlocking a cabinet drawer, he drew out a thirty-shooter, loaded and capped, and with his finger on the trigger stole softly to the door and into the hall, whither I followed him. Everything was silent, and the hall and stairs lamps were burning clear and high. I could hear the throbbing of my own heart as I stood there watching. #RandolphHarris 8 of 13
Suddenly we both heard heavy rapid footsteps, seemingly overhead; and then confused noises, as of struggling, and quarrelling, and sobbing, mingled in a swelling clamour which sounded now near, deafeningly near, and then far, far away; now overhead, now beside us, now beneath, undistinguishable, indescribable, and unearthly. Then the rushing footsteps came nearer and nearer. And, clenching his teeth, while his face grew rigid and white in desperate resolve, William sprang up the staircase with a bound like a tiger. It has all passed in less than half the time I have taken to relate it, and while I yet stood breathless and with straining eyes, William had nearly reached the last step when I saw him stagger backwards, the thirty-shooter raised in his hand. There was a struggle, a rushing, swooping sound, two shots fired in rapid succession, a floating cloud of white smoke, through which I saw the streaming yellow hair and steel-blue eyes flash downward, and then a shriek rang out—the dreadful cry of a man in mortal terror—a crashing fall, beneath which the house trembled to its foundations, and I saw my husband’s body stretched before the conservatory door, whither he had toppled backwards—whether dead or dying I knew not. I remember dimly hearing my own voice in agonized screams, and the terror-stricken servants hurrying from the kitchens below. I remember the kind of face of my new nurse as she bravely rushed down and dispatched someone for the doctor, and made others help her to carry the senseless figure, with blood slowly dripping from the parted lips and staining the snowy linen shirt-front in great gouts and splashes, up to the chamber, where they laid him on his bed, and I, a wretched frenzied woman, knelt beside him with the sole, ceaseless prayer that brain or lips could form—“God help me!” #RandolphHarris 9 of 13
I remember the physician’s arrival, and the grave face and low clear voice of Dr. Winchester, as he made his enquiries; and then another physician summoned, and the low frightened voices, and peering frightened faces, and the lighted candles guttering away in currents of air form opening and shutting doors, and the long hours of night, and the cold grey dawning, the heart-rendering suspense, and speechless, tearless, wordless agony, and the sun rose, gloriously cloudless, smiling in radiance, as if there was not the shadow of death over the weary World beneath his rays, and I hear the verdict—“there was scarcely a hope.” However, God was merciful to me and to him, and my darling did not die. With a fevered brain and a shattered limb he lay there for weeks—lay there with the dark portals half opened to receive him; lay there, when I could no longer watch beside him, but lay prostrate and suffering in another apartment, tended by kind relatives and friends; but at length, when the mellow sunshine, and the crisp clear air of the soft shadowy October days stole into the sick room. William was able to be dressed and sit up for an hour or two amongst the pillows of his easy-chair by the window. And there he was, longing to be gone away from London. “Sarah, darling, weak or strong I must go,” he said in his trembling uncertain voice, and with a restless longing in his faded eyes, “I shall never get better in this house.” And so a few days afterwards, accompanied by the doctor and two nurses, we went down in a pleasant swift railroad journey to our dear, beautiful, peaceful home in New Haven. #RandolphHarris 10 of 13
William never spoke of that night of horror but once, when Dr. Winchester told of the story connected with the original 18-room farmhouse we purchased, which morphed into a labyrinth of endless room, twisting and winding tunnels, and catacombs. Thirty years before we bought the farmhouse, the man who was both proprietor and tenant of the estate died, leaving his two daughters all he possessed. He had been a bad man, led a bad wild life, and died in a fit brough on by drunkenness; and these two daughters, grown to womanhood, inherited with his ill-gotten fold his evil nature. They were only half-sisters, and were believed to have been illegitimate also. The elder, a tall, masculine, strongly built woman, with masses of coarse fair hair, and bright, glitter blue eyes; and the younger, a plump, dark-haired rather pretty girl, but as treacherous, vain, and bold, as her elder sister was fierce, passionate, and cruel. They lived in this house, with only their servants, for several years after their father’s death, a life of quarrelling and bickering, jealousy, witchcraft, and heart-burnings, on various accounts. The elder strobe to tyrannize over the younger, who repaid it by deceit and crafty selfishness and black magic. At length a lover came, who the elder sister favoured; whom she loved as fiercely and rashly as such wild untamed natures do; and by fiercely and rashly as such wild untamed natures do; and by falsehood and deep-laid treachery the younger sister cast a love spell on the man and won his fickle fancy from the great, harsh-featured, haughty, passionate elder one. The elder woman soon perceived it, and there were dreadful scenes between the two sisters, when the younger taunted the elder, and the elder cursed the younger. #RandolphHarris 11 of 13
However, as fate would have it, one night and at length—there had been a fiercer encounter of words than usual, and the dark-haired girl maddened her sister by insults, and the sudden information that she intended leaving the house in the morning, to stay with a relative until her marriage, which was to take place in one week from that time—the wronged woman, demon-possessed from that moment, waited in her dressing-room, until her sister entered, and then she sprang on her and screaming and struggling, they both wrested until they reached the staircase, where the younger sister, escaping for an instant, rushed wildly down, followed by her murderess, who overpowered her in spite of her frantic struggles, and with her strong, cruel, bony hands deliberately strangled her, until she lay a disfigured palpitating corpse at her feet. She had several scars that seemed as if they had been long there, and they were done by witchcraft. The officers of justice arrested the murderess a few hours afterwards. The jailers put irons on her legs (having received such a command). [It was the curious theory that chaining the prisoner would prevent her specter from afflicting anyone.] The weight of them was about eight pounds. These irons and her other afflictions soon brought her into convulsion fits so they thought she would die that night. She died by poison self-administered on the second day of her imprisonment. What is now known as the Winchester Mansion had been shut up and silent for many a year afterwards, and when, at length, and when, at length, an enterprising landlord put it in habitable order, and found tenants for it again, he only found them to lose them. #RandolphHarris 12 of 13
Year after year passes away, its evil fame darkening with its massive masonry, for none could be found to sanctify with the sacred name and pleasures of home that dwelling blighted by an abiding curse. “I never told you, Sarah,” William said, “although I told my cousin Dr. Winchester, that from the first evening I led a haunted life in that beautiful house, and the more I struggled to disbelieve the evidence of my senses, and to keep the knowledge from you, the more unbearable it became, until I felt myself going mad. I knew I was haunted, but will that last night I had never witnessed what I dreaded day and night to see. And then, Sarah, when I fired, and I saw the devilish murderess face, with its demon eyes blazing on me, and the tall unearthly figure hurrying down to meet me, dragging the other struggling, writhing figure, with her long sinewy fingers seemingly pressed around the convulsed face, then I knew it was all over with me. If there had been a flaming furnace beside me I think I should have leaped into it to escape that awful sight.” That was over a century ago. Sarah eventually returned to the Winchester all along and made several changes to it over 38 years. It is now a 4 story, 160-room mansion, with over 25,500 square feet, sitting on four acres. It was once up to 600 rooms, likely 95,625 square with as many as 737 acres. The strange thing about witchcraft and legends is many of them are based in truth, and sometimes there are unexplainable continuity errors. Take for example An hysterical fit, from J.M. Charcot, Lectures on the Disease of the Nervous System (London, 1877). Look at the extruded tongue, reported during the seventeenth century in witchcraft cases at Gordon, Boston, Salem, and elsewhere. Notice also the legs crossed in spasm; at one time Mary Warren’s legs could not be uncrossed without breaking them. #RandolphHarris 13 of 13
Winchester Mystery House
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In a Nightmare of Supernatural Terror–Afraid to Move Hand or Foot!
The warning came too late to change that course of event. There has been time when many admitted some doubt of the validity of spectral evidence. This story I will tell to you now, as I have promised to do so, and yet I can hardly make you believe in the reluctance with which I even allow my thoughts go back to the times which I spent in my house—my first town residence after I was married. I loved so much my lovely mansion, I suppose. The wide emerald green lawns and quiet, glassy ponds and streams, bordered by luscious, blooming rhododendrons; of silent, mossy avenues, glorious with the flickering light that stole through pale green beech leaves; of rose gardens with grassy paths, jewel-sprinkled with shell-like petals of white, crimson, pink, and cream-like hues; of old-fashioned rooms with narrow, mullioned windows embowered in scarlet japonica and fragrant, starry jessamine. I supposed I possessed a deep love of them all. This was the first house we were sown in the Santa Clara, California. It was certainly a very fine house, both as o exterior and interior appearances. Large, massively built, agreeably darkened in woodwork and masonry by Time’s shading brush, in excellent repair, and the locality all that could be desire. Wide, lofty apartments, staircases, and landings; a handsome dining-room panelled in velvety dark-green “flock” and gold; a handsome drawing-room panelled in pale cream-colour and gold; airy bed-chambers and dressing-rooms—one, in particular, attached to what seemed the principal bedroom, with a vast mirror occupying the whole side of the apartment which was opposite to the door leading into the bed-chamber. #RandolphHarris 1 of 16
“What a nice dressing-room! This house is perfect and expansion will be a joy.” I exclaimed, having a weakness, I confess, for large, handsome mirrors in the rooms I inhabit—William says impertinent things about my “wishing to see as much of myself as I can.” I know I am not all, in fact, rather what he should call petite, if he wished to be polite—but that is not my reason for liking a large mirror. As I spoke the words I looked about mechanically for the house—agent’s clerk who had been sent with us—a nervous-looking little man, with a pasty complexion, and orange-colored hair meekly plastered down at each side of his face. He had been untiringly trotting up and down stairs, unlocking doors, answering questions, and keeping up a harmless soliloquy of chatter about the beauties and excellencies of the “mansiond,” as he called it, ever since he entered its doors, but now he was nowhere to be seen. “What door have you open?” I said, speaking aloud to him, for suddenly a cold blast of air swept up the wide staircase and into the dressing-room door, but not entering. His face looked wither than before, and in his accents there was an almost terrified earnestness that puzzled me. The shadows of the afternoon seemed to deepen. The aspect of the suites of rooms and long silent corridors, with their doors ajar, as if unseen inhabitants were stealthily crouching behind them, drearily impressed me with a sense of dull desolation; and it was with a sudden sensation of childish fear and loneliness that I rushed after my husband, and took his arm as he hastily descended the stairs. #RandolphHarris 2 of 16
“A spacious, handsome staircase, William” I remarked. “Yes; and a spacious, handsome price, you may be sure,” William responded. However, in this particular, he was exceedingly, and I agreeably, astonished. To our surprise, the house was rather affordable. William figured there must be a screw loose somewhere. He mentioned his opinion to the clerk in a more business-like expression, to the effect that the price seemed low, and that he trusted there was no—peculiar—eh? “Drains, gas, water, all right, sir—right as—a—a trivet, sir. However, the 18-room farmhouse is incomplete,” sad the clerk, looking over his shoulder oddly, as he spoke. “But chimneys, ventilators, roof, tiles—everything in the perfect repair and order, sir!” However, wonderful or not, the house seemed all that we could desire; the lowness of the price made it a decided bargain. I planned to expand the house, and make it even more lofty, and handsome; and in three weeks, huge furniture vanes, and a clever upholstered, had carpeted, curtained, and furnished our town mansion from garret to basement, and William and I, our two babies, a nurse, two maids, a cook, and a butler, were installed in what would become the Winchester Mansion. Dear William had been very generous—nay, almost extravagant—in his provisions for the comfort and pleasure of his wife and children; and my dressing-room and their nursery were fitted up so luxuriously and tastefully, that my feeling at the first inspection of them was that of self-gratulation on being such a fortunate woman, in having such a home, such babies, and such a husband. #RandolphHarris 3 of 16
I arrayed myself for dinner that evening quite gleefully; standing before my splendid mirror amid the bule drapery, cushions, and couches of my charming dressing-room. I put on William’s favourite dress—a bronze-brown lustrous silk, with sparkling gold ornaments: he invariably kissed me when he saw it on, stroked my brown curls and face, and called me “Mrs. Winchester”—and was still standing before the glass smiling at myself, like the happy, foolish little woman I was, when I perceived to my discomfiture that William was standing in the doorway watching my doings, and grinning very visibly under his moustache. “Do not mind me, my dear, I beg! do not me the least. However, when you have done admiring Mrs. Winchester, perhaps you will be kind enough to let me know”—then, suddenly changing his tone, he exclaimed, “Have you the window open, Sarah, this chilly evening?” “No William,” I replied, glancing at it to make sure of the fact. “Change in the weather, then,” my husband said. “Come, Sarah, there is no use in making yourself any prettier!” He had just uttered the last words when I saw him spring aside suddenly, and look around. “What is the matter?” I said—“William, dear, what is the matter?” For his face had grown quite white, and with his back against the wall, he was staring about him wildly. “I do not know—Sarah—something”—he explained in a low tone; then recovering himself, with a laugh, he cried—“I struck myself against the door, I suppose! I declare one would think I was composed of old china, or wax, or sugar candy, I hurt and stunned me so! Come, dearest.” #RandolphHarris 4 of 16
He had not struck himself, for I had been watching him going out on the lobby, and I felt an uneasy conviction that he knew he had not done so, and only spoke as he did in order to deceive or satisfy me. why? Why did I think so? As I live I cannot tell why I thought so then—I know now. We had the “babies”—as William always called them—in the dessert, after the time-honoured fashion of making olives as well as olive branches of them; and then, when the lite ones had gone to bed, we sat side by side in he summer twilight, I lazily fanning myself, William bending over me the lover-husband he was. Then came the lamps, and I played for him, and we sang duet and spent as happy an evening in our new home as a married pair could wish to spend. I cannot tell why I felt so disinclined to go upstairs that night, tired as I was, too—for we had had a long journey up from the country. However as eleven struck, I routed William out of the easy chair where he had been indulging in a preliminary doze, and, ringing for my maid went up to my dressing-room. I like gas in my dressing-room, though not in my bedroom, and the globes at either side the great mirror were a blaze of light. As I entered I caught the reflection of a woman’s figure in the depths of the glass, no my maid’s. The glimpse I had was of a tall woman, strongly built, and broad-shouldered, a quantity of light hair hanging in a disordered manner on her neck, and the profile of a white, hard, masculine face, with the keen glittering eye turned watchfully towards the door. #RandolphHarris 5 of 16
This may seem an elaborately detailed description for the momentary glance I obtained, but it is well known with what lightning rapidity the organs of vision will, in moments of terror and amazement, convey impressions to the startled brain, impression accurate and indelible. I had taken but one step on entering, the next step the figure had vanished, and the mirror reflected by my own terrified face, and the homely, cheerful one of my maid Agnus, as she stooped over the dressing-table opening a jewel case. I dropped down on the nearest chair, and, in answer to the girl’s alarmed questions, replied that I did not feel very well. I was sick and shuddering from head to foot. Suddenly it flashed across me that it was from a similar cause I had seen my husband’s face grow ghastly, and that strange, terrified look come into his eyes,–he, who had been a soldier and unflinchingly had fought amidst the dead and dying on bloody Indian battlefields, almost boy as he was then! What was it? What had he seen? Nonsense! was I going to believe I had seen a ghost? Nonsense, a thousand times over! I heard my husband’s cheery voice as he ascended the stairs, and, quite angry with myself for giving way to such folly, I threw on my dressing gown, and, snatching up the brush from Agnus, I pulled my hair down and brushed it quite savagely, until my head ached well—for punishment. If the bright morning light disperses sweet illusions formed overnight, as people say it does, it disperses gloomy ones as well. With the warmth and brightness of the unclouded summer’s sun streaming in through softly coloured blinds, brining out the velvety green of soft new carpets and lounges, the rainbow tints of glittering chandeliers, vases, and ornaments, the gilding on bright fresh wallpaper and the spotless folds of snowy window drapery, it was impossible for an instant to connect anything dark or dismal with the Winchester House. #RandolphHarris 6 of 16
Why, my dressing-room even where I had been so silly last evening, was like a woodland bower, with its deep purple-blue hangings and rose painted china flower-vases filled with bouquets from our country home. Clustering fragrant honeysuckle half-opened moss roses, drooping emerald-green fern, and masses of delicious jessamine dropping its over-blown blossoms on the white toilet cover, lace-flounced and tied with blue ribbons, as Agnus delighted to have it. “I think this such a charming room and such a charming house altogether, William!” I said; “and you have been such a dear, thoughtful old darling!” For I had perceived that the dear fellow had had his own half-length portrait hung over my writing-table. Quite a pleasant surprise for me, for I thought he intended it to be hung in the dining-room, and I delighted in having the dear pleasant brown eyes looking for a me when I was busy writing or sewing. “I am so glad you like everything, Sarah,” said he. “Why, William, do you not?” However, William had walked off whistling, and presently I heard uproarious baby-laughter, and baby-chatter, and thumping, trotting of small fat feet, as William put the tiny nursery into dire confusion by his morning game of romps with his son and heir, and red-cheeked baby-daughter. And it did seem as if I must have been dreaming or delirious, when this day and many a succeeding one passed away swiftly and pleasantly, without the slightest recurring event to remind me of my strange alarm on the night of our arrival. #RandolphHarris 7 of 16
We had been in the Winchester House about a fortnight, when one morning I received a visit from Mrs. Ellen Kenna. A very pretty, lady-like person she was, and as we had some common acquaintances we chattered away very freely and pleasantly for half-an-hour or so. As she rose to go she asked suddenly if we like the house. I replied in the affirmative rather warmly. She was opposite the light, and I saw an involuntary elevation of her eye-brows and compression of her lips that puzzled me. I fancied it was because I had spoken so enthusiastically. Yet her own manner was anything but languidly fashionable, being very cordial and decided. “Yes; it is a very nice house, roomy and well-built,” she said, after a moment’s pause; “I am so glad you like it—I live down the road in Oakland.” We took the carriage to have dinner at Bertha Hass’s mansion that for the following evening, and when we returned about three days later, in spite of a yawning remonstrate from William, I tipped off softly to have a peep at my darlings, before I went to bed. The nursey was a large, pleasant room at the end of the long corridor leading from our own apartments, and, gently turning the handle and gathering my rustling silk dress around me, I opened the door and went in. There was a night-lamp burning clearly, shining softly on the tiny cribs with the sweet flushed infant faces, the long golden-brown lashes lying in dimpled apple-bloom cheeks, the waxen hands and little rounded arms thrown above the tossed golden curls, and the Heavenly calm of the little sleeping forms and pure, peaceful breathing. #RandolphHarris 8 of 16
I wondered would any mother, no matter how cold and careless, have neglected doing what I did, as I bent over my treasures, and prayed God that His angels might keep watch over each cherub head on its little, soft, white pillow? I had looed at and kissed them, and turned to go, when I glanced toward the nurse’s bed. “Are you not well, Linda? What is the matter?” I said in an anxious whisper. She was a very respectable and trustworthy servant, as well as being, a kind, gentle creature with the little ones, and consequently highly valued by me, but her health was never very good, and she was subject to severe attacks of nervous headache and sleeplessness. She was sitting up in bed, her hands grasping the bedclothes, her face and lips ashy white, and her as big as saucers and staring wildly, as if they would start from their sockets. “Linda! Good Heavens! what is the matter?” I gasped. “Ma’am! Oh, ma’am—oh, mistress, I am dying!” We summoned a doctor and administered restoratives, and chafed the half-senseless girl’s damp, cold hands. I could imagine no cause for her sudden illness, and the others servants were very voluble in exclamations and laments. However, when the physician—a pale, kindly, grave-looking man arrived—after a moment’s examination, he demanded if she had been frightened? I replied in the negative, and was proceeding to describe to him the state in which I had found her, when I heard the housemaid and Agnus whispering energetically together. #RandolphHarris 9 of 16
The doctor was paying tribute to the dramatic affliction of the girl, when he said, “This strikes hard upon me, that you are at this very present charged with unfamiliar spirits. This is your bodily person they speak to. They say now they see these unfamiliar sprits some to your bodily person. Now what do you say to that?” Agnus said that she saw a specter leaving Linda’s body, as she was going into hideous convulsions. The fit was far too violent to be acting. This was terribly “real” and convincing. “What is it? Speak out at once my god girl!” said the doctor sternly to the housemaid; “you know something of this.” Both servants looked apprehensively at me and at William. “Speak up at once, Bethany; the girl’s life may depend on it! Tell the truth, my girl, and do not be afraid,” said her master kindly, but firmly. “I do not know nothing, sir—indeed, no ma’am, said Angus confusedly; “but—I think, ma’am—she seen the ghost, sir!” “That what!” cried William angrily. “She have, sir!” persisted Agnus eagerly, now that her confession was made. “We are all afraid, sir; but she has been worser nor the rest of us. And she says to me only this morning, ‘Agnus,’ she says, ‘if I see it, I will die!’” “What ghost, you fool?” cried William more angrily. “A pretty set you are!—great, grown men and women, afraid of some bogie story you have heard when you were gossiping with the servants on the balcony, I suppose!” “No, indeed, sir,” said Agnus; “I was not gossippin’, sir; but the parlour-maid over the way, sir Mrs. Kenna’s parlour-maid, ma’am—she told me that there was the Devil–” #RandolphHarris 10 of 16
“I thought so!” interrupted William. “You ought to be ashamed of yourselves not to have an ounce of brains among you.” “But, sir! Agnus burst out again, unheeding her master’s rather uncomplimentary phrenological verdict, “we did not mind, sir, though we was a bit frightened, until we see it, sir! The butler see it, and he ran, and cook ran.” “And you ran after them?” said William, with an indignant laugh. “I did, sir, for I saw it too—a big woman with fair hair all over her shoulders,” said Agnus, in an awestruck whisper to Harriet, who nodded her head. The doctor looked up, gravely and without a smile. The servants clustered together near the door, and muttered in undertones. William looked at me with a forced smile, which died away in an instant: “You are not so foolish as to credit any of this nonsense, Sarah?” he said. The servants all turned eagerly to hear their mistress’s opinion. I am afraid it was written in my pallid face. Was it true? Was it what I had seen? Could there be any reality in this, that here, in our pleasant, happy home, beneath the roof with out helpless little one, was a dreadful, unblessed presence—a shadowy horror; that that thing with the watchful, cruel eyes had not been a mere vision of imagination, the mere offspring of an active brain, and the unstrung nerves of an overtired frame? Is there conclusive proof that the person represented had been trafficking with the Devil? “Oh! they imagined something from the stories they heard, I dare say,” I faltered. #RandolphHarris 11 of 16
The butler shook his head solemnly: “I could swear to it, ma’am.” “And so could I ma’am!” chorused the cook and housemaid. “Hush!” said the doctor, as the nurse, roused, at length, from her stupor, lay quietly, with closed eyes, from which the tears streamed down her face. “Some one must sit up with her now,” said the doctor, looking around. “I will, sir, if my mistress allows me, said Bethany. Certainly, Bethany,” she said at once. He communicated his instructions to her and took his leave, promising to call in the morning. “Did you ever hear anything like this folly, doctor,” said William, as he shook hands with him at the head of the stairs. “Oh! yes, sir, I often hear such stories,” said the doctor quietly, as he bade us both goodnight.” William! what has frightened the girl? What has she seen?” I whispered, clasping my husband’s arm. “Sarah, go to bed, and do not be a goose,” was William’s reply. “William—I saw that thing—that woman, in my dressing-room,” I said, trembling, “and oh! think if the children were to see I and be frightened like poor Mary!” “Well, Sarah,” said my husband sharply, “if you are going to listen to ignorant servants’ superstitions and run out of your house, just as we are comfortably settled in it, on account of a foolish sickly woman fainting from hearing a ghost story—I say—it is a pity you ever came into it.” He spoke very decidedly and sternly, and yet I felt in my inmost heart that the uttered what he wished me to believe, not what he believed himself. I said no more, but went to my bedroom—not into the dreaded dressing-room—and lay awake listening and fevered with nervous anxiety until the next morning dawned. #RandolphHarris 12 of 16
The nurse was better and able to speak the next day, though extremely weak and unnerved yet. The doctor forbade much questioning, and all that could be got from her at intervals was that something had come up the staircase and ran through the corridor, that she heard struggling and scuffling outside, and then the nursey door opened and she saw a woman’s face peering in, the eyes gleaming wickedly at her, and it had the yellow hair that “belong to the ghost.” “The woman has had a bad fit of nightmare—that is all, Sarah,” said William, rattling his paper unconcernedly, when I repeated to him the story I had just heard from poor Linda’s trembling lips. It might be so; but why were they all agreed as to what they had seen? Why did they all speak of the tangled fair hair, and the wicked gleaming eyes? Was our house haunted? Was this the mysterious cause of the exceedingly moderate price of the house and land and the house-agent’s profuse civility? The nurse did not recover strength, and being worse than useless in her present weak, hysterical condition, I sent her down to her country home for change of air, and hired another temporarily in her place. The newcomer was a stout, small, cheerful woman of about forty. I liked her face the moment I saw her; for, besides its smiling, honest expression, there was a good deal of decided character in the large firm features. “You appear to be a sensible person,” I said, when giving her her first instructions in the nursey, “and I think I can rely on you. You know my nurse is leaving because of illness, and that illness was caused by her being frightened by—a ghost-story.” I paused; but the woman remained unmoved, listening to me in respectful silence. #RandolphHarris 13 of 16
“The servants downstairs have got some nonsense of the kind into their head,” I went on; “they will try to frighten you, too, and tell you they have seen—-” I could not go on. For my life I could not calmly giver her the description of that shadowy image of fear. “They cannot frighten me, ma’am, said my new nurse quietly. “I am not afraid of spirits.” I thought she spoke in jest, and smiled. “I am not indeed, ma’am,” she repeated. “I have lived where there were such things seen but they never harmed me.” “You do not mean to say you believe such nonsense?” said I, hypocritically trying to speak carelessly. “Oh yes, ma’am, I do! I could not disbelieve it,” said the nurse, opening her eyes with earnestness, “I know the story of this house, ma’am.” What story” I cried. The woman coloured and looked confused. “I beg your pardon, ma’am—I mean what people say is seen here.” “What do they say? Do not frighten me,” I said, and my voice quivered in spite of me; “I have heard nothing but what the servant said.” The nurse looked deeply concerned. “I am very stupid, ma’am; I beg your pardon for repeating such stores to you—I daresay it is only idle people’s gossip.” She went about her duties, and I went—not into my dressing-room—but down into the drawing-room, where I say by the window looking out until my husband returned. Two or three weeks more passed away. I lay down on my pet chintz-covered couch, near the window, to look at the sky and the starts. Dead silence—and the “ting, ting” of the French clock on the mantelpiece marked the half-hour after eight. #RandolphHarris 14 of 16
Dear me, how dark it was growing! this brooding storm I supposed, which had been making me feel so languid and restless. I wish it would come down and cool the air—not tonight, though. Dear me, how lonely it is. I wish William were home. Those women are talking very loudly—I wonder nurse would—here I got drowsy, and my eyes ached looking for the stars that had not come. In a few minutes I roused again, my maternal anxiety changing into indignation as I heard the women’s voices growing louder and shriller, and some doors opened and shut violently. What can nurse be thinking of? They will wake the children most certainly, and William was so long in falling asleep—quite fevers my own boy! I shall really reprover her very plainly. I never needed to do so before. What could she be thinking of? Dead silence again. Well, this was lonely; I was inclined to ring for lights, and turn on all the burners in the chandeliers by way of company. Then I remembered there were some wax matches in one of the drawers of a writing-tray just at hand, and thought I would light the gas myself instead of brining the servants down—yes—but I wanted company. It was so dark and dreary, and—and—I was afraid. Afraid to stir—afraid to look at the door! a numbing, chilling tide of icy fear ebbing through every vein—afraid to draw a breath—afraid to move hand or foot, in a nightmare of supernatural terror. At last, by a violent effort, I sprang at the bell-handle, and pulled it frantically, and as soon as I had done so, with a sudden revulsion of feeling, I felt thoroughly ashamed of my childish cowardice, although I could not have helped it, and it had overcome me as suddenly as unexpectedly. How William would have laughed at me! #RandolphHarris 15 of 16
There were those servants talking again, tramping about and banging the doors as before. Really, this was unbearable; cook must be in one of her fits of temper, and certainly had forgotten herself strangely. And, as the quarrelsome tones grew louder and louder—evidently in bitter recrimination, although I could not catch a word—my own anger rose proportionately, and, forgetting loneliness and darkness in my indignant anxiety lest my children should be waked by this most unseemly behaviour of the servants, I ran hastily out of the room and up the wide staircase. The dime light from the clouded evening sky, still further subdued by the gold and purple-stained glass of the conservatory door, streamed faintly down the steps from the first landing, and by it, just as I had ascended half way, I discovered the short, thick-sett figure of the nurse rushing down—of course, in answer to my ring, I supposed. Involuntarily I stepped aside to avoid coming in violent contact with her as she feld past. No, it was not the nurse; and the woman following her in headlong haste, sweeping by me so that the current of air from their floating dresses struck icily cold on my brow where the clammy dew of perspiration had started in great drops, was—was—-Merciful Heavens! What was that tall figure, with the coarse, disordered, yellow hair, the white face, and glittering, steel-blue eyes, that glinted fiendishly on me for one dreadful instant, and then vanished? Vanished as the pursed and pursuing figures had disappeared in the shadows of the wide, lofty hall, without sound of voice or footstep? #RandolphHarris 16 of 16
Winchester Mystery House
If you had a chance to explore areas never before seen within Sarah’s house, would you take it?
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A 160-room mansion built to appease the spirits who died at the hands of the Winchester Rifle 👻
I Wake and Feel the Fell of Dark, Not Day!
When looking at top concert pianists, Olympic swimmers, sculptors, tennis players, mathematicians, and research neurologists, it was discovered that drive and determination, not great natural talent, led to exceptional success. The first steps toward high achievement began when parent expose their children to music, swimming, scientific ideas, and so forth, “just for fun.” At first, many of the children had very ordinary skills. One Olympic swimmer, for instance, remembers repeatedly losing rases to a 10-year-old. At some point, however, the children began to actively cultivate their abilities. Before long, parents noticed the child’s rapid progress and found an expert instructor or coach. After more successes, the youngsters began “living” for their talent and practiced many hours daily. This continued for many years before they reached truly outstanding heights of achievement. Talent is nurtured by dedication and hard work. It is most likely to blossom when parents actively support a child’s special interest and emphasize doing one’s best at all times. Studies of child prodigies and eminent adults also show that intensive practice and expert coaching are common ingredients of high achievement. Elite performance in music, sports, chess, the arts, and many other pursuits requires at least 10 years of dedicated practice. The old belief that “talent will surface” on its own is largely a myth. This is especially true for talented women, who face a wide variety of social obstacles to exceptional achievement. “If ye have faith ye hope for things which are not seen, which are true,” reports Alma 32.21. #RandolohHarris 1 of 23
Faith is needed to reach any goal. Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. Faith is a principle of action and power. Whenever you work toward a worthy goal, you exercise faith. You show your hope for something that you cannot yet see. In order for your faith to lead you to salvation, it must be centered in the Lord Jesus Christ. “We believe that the first principles and ordinances of the Gospel are: first, Faith in the Lord Jesus Christ; second, Repentance; third, Baptism by immersion for the remission of sins; fourth, Laying on of hands for the gift of the Holy Ghost,” Articles of Faith 1.4. Achieving elite performance may be reserved for the dedicated few. Nevertheless, you may be able to improve everyday motivation by increasing your self-confidence. People with self-confidence believe they can successfully carry out an activity or reach a goal. To enhance self-confidence, it is wise to do the following: Have faith in Jesus Christ. That means relying on Jesus Christ completely. Trust in His infinite power, intelligence, and love. Set goals that are specific and challenging, but attainable. Visualize the steps you need to take to reach your goal. Advance in small steps. When you first acquire a skill, your goal should be to make progress in learning. Later, you can concentrate on improving your performance, compared with other people. This means believing that even though you do not understand all things, Jesus Christ does. Remember that because He as experienced all your pains, afflictions, and infirmities, He knows how to help you rise above your daily difficulties. He has overcome the World. #RandolphHarris 2 of 23
Get expert instruction that helps your master the skill. “And he shall go forth, suffering pains and afflictions and temptations of every kind; and this that the word might be fulfilled which saith He will take upon Him the pains and the sickness of His people. And He will take upon Him death, that He may loose the bands of death which bind His people; and He will take upon Him their infirmities, that His bowels may be filled with mercy, according to the flesh, that He may know according to the flesh how to succor His people according to their infirmities,” reports Alma 7.11-12. Jesus Christ has prepared a way for you to receive eternal life. He is always ready to help you as you remember His plea: “Look unto e in every thought; doubt, not fear,” reports Doctrine and Covenants 6.36. Find a skilled model (someone good at the skill) to emulate. Get support and encouragement from an observer. Faith is much more than a passive belief. You express your faith through actions—by the way you live. If you fail, regard it as a sign that you need to try harder, not that you lack ability. The Saviour promised, “If ye will have faith in me, ye shall have power to do whatsoever thing is expedient in me,” Moroni 7.33. Faith in Jesus Christ can motivate you to follow His perfect example. “Verily, verily, I say unto you, one that believeth on me, the works that I do shall one do also; and greater works than these shall one do; because I go unto my Father,” reports John 14.12. Self-confidence affects motivation by influencing the challenges you will undertake, the effort you will make, and how long you will persist when things do not go well. You can be confident that self-confidence is worth cultivating. #RandolphHarris 3 of 23
Your faith can lead you to do good works, obey the commandments and repent of your sins. Your faith can help you overcome temptation. “Teach them to withstand every temptation of the devil, with their faith on the Lord Jesus Christ,” reports Alma 37.33. The Lord will work mighty miracles in your life according to your faith. “And that one manifesteth oneself unto all those who believe in Him, by the power of the Holy Ghost; yea, unto every nation, kindred, tongue, and people, working mighty miracles, signs, and wonders, among the children of men according to their faith,” reports 2 Nephi 26.13. Faith in Jesus Christ helps you receive spiritual and physical healing through His Atonement. When times of trial comes, faith can give you strength to press forward and face your hardships with courage. Even when the future seems uncertain, your faith in the Saviour can give your peace. “Peace, peace be unto you, because of your faith in my Well Beloved, who was from the foundation of the World,” Helaman 5.47. Faith is a gift from God, but you must nurture your faith to keep it strong. Faith is like the muscle of your arm. If you exercise it, it grows strong. If you put it in a sling and leave it there, it becomes weak. You can nurture the gift of faith by praying to Heavenly Father in the name of Jesus Christ. As you express your gratitude to your Father and as you plead with Him for blessings that you and others need, you will draw near to Him. You will draw near to the Saviour, whose Atonement makes it possible for you to plead for mercy. “And thou didst hear me because of mine afflictions and my sincerity; and it is because of Thy Son that Thou hast been thus merciful unto me, therefore I will cry unto Thee in all mine afflictions, for in Thee is my joy; for Thou hast turned Thy judgments away from me, because of Thy Son,” reports Alma 33.11. #RandolphHarris 4 of 23
You will also be receptive to the quiet guidance of the Holy Ghost by exercising faith. Another question that arises is this. If the redemption of Man is the beginning of Nature’s redemption as a whole, must we then conclude after all that Man is the most important thing in Nature? If I had to answer “Yes” to this question I should not be embarrassed. Supposing Man to be the only rational animal in the Universe, then (as has been shown) his small size and the small size of the globe he inhabits would not make it ridiculous to regard him as the hero of the cosmic drama: Jack after all is the smallest character in Jack the Giant–Killer. Nor do I think it in the least improbable that Man is in fact the only rational creature in this spatiotemporal Nature. That is just the sort of lonely pre-eminence—just the disproportion between picture and frame—which all that I know of Nature’s “selectiveness” would lead me to anticipate. However, I do not need to assume that it actually exists. Let Man be only one among a myriad of rational species, and let him be the only one that has fallen. Because he has fallen, for him God does the great deed; just as in the parable it is the one lost sheep for whom the shepherd hunts. Let Man’s pre-eminence or solitude be one not of superiority but of misery and evil: then, all the more, Man will be the very species into which Mercy will descend. For his prodigal the fatted calf, or, to speak more suitably, the eternal Lamb, is killed. However, once the Son of God, drawn hither not by our merits but by our unworthiness, has put on human nature, then our species (whatever it may have been before) does become in one sense the central fact in all Nature: our species, rising after its long descent, will drag all Nature up with it because in our species the Lord of Nature is now included. #RandolphHarris 5 of 23
And it would be all of a piece with what we already know if ninety and nine righteous races inhabiting distant planets that circle distant suns, and needing no redemption on their own account, were re-made and glorified by the glory which had descended into our race. For God is not merely mending, not simply restoring a status quo. Redeemed humanity is to be something more glorious than unfallen humanity would have been, more glorious than any unfallen race now is (if at this moment the night sky conceals any such). The greater the sin, the greater the mercy: the deeper the death the brighter the re-birth. And this super-added glory will, with true vicariousness, exalt all creatures and those who have never fallen will thus Adam’s fall. I write so far on the assumption that the Incarnation was occasioned only by the Fall. Another view has, of course, been sometimes held by Christians. According to it the descent of God into Nature was not in itself occasioned by sin. It would have occurred for Glorification and Perfection even if it had not been required for Redemption. Its attendant circumstances would have been very different: the divine humility would not have been a divine humiliation, the sorrows, the gall and vinegar, the crown of thorns and the cross, would have been absent. If this view is taken, then clearly the Incarnation, wherever and however it occurred, would always have been the beginning of Nature’s re-birth. The fact that it has occurred in the human species, summoned tither by that strong incantation of misery and abjection which Love has made Himself unable to resist, would not deprive it of its universal significance. #RandolphHarris 6 of 23
This doctrine of a universal redemption spreading outwards from the redemption of Man, mythological as it will seem to modern minds, is in reality far more philosophical than any theory which holds that God, having once entered Nature, should leave her, and leave her substantially unchanged, or that the glorification of one creature could be realized without the glorification of the whole system. God never undoes anything but evil, never does good to unto it again. The union between God and Nature in the Person of Christ admits no divorce. He will not go out of Nature again and she must be glorified in all ways which this miraculous union demands. When spring comes it “leaves no corner of the land untouched”; even a pebble dropped in a pond sends circles to the margin. The question we want to ask about Man’s “central” position in this drama is really on a level with the disciples’ question, “Which of them was the greatest?” It is the sort of question which God does not answer. If from Man’s point of view the re-creation of non-human and even inanimate Nature appears a mere byproduct of one’s own redemption, then equally from some remote, non-human point of view Man’s redemption may seem merely the preliminary to this more widely diffused springtime, and the very permission of Man’s fall may be supposed to have had that larger end in view. If they will consent to drop the words mere and merely, both attitudes will be right. Where a God who is totally purposive and totally foreseeing acts upon a Nature which is totally interlocked, there can be no accidents or loose ends, nothing whatever of which we can safely use the word merely. #RandolphHarris 7 of 23
Nothing is “merely a by-product” of anything else. All results are intended from the first. What is subservient from one point of view is the main purpose from another. No thing or event is first or highest in a sense which forbids it to be also last and lowest. The partner who bows to Man in one movement of the dance receives Man’s reverences in another. To be high or central means to abdicate continually: to be low means to be raised: all good masters are servants: God washes the feet of men. The concepts we usually bring to the consideration of such matters are miserably political and prosaic. We think of flat repetitive equality and arbitrary privileges as the only two alternatives—thus missing all the overtones, the counterpoint, the vibrant sensitiveness, the inter-inanimations of reality. For this reason, I do not think it at all likely that there have been (as Alice Meynell suggested in an interesting poem) many Incarnations to redeem many different kinds of creature. One’s sense of style—of the divine idiom—rejects it. The suggestion of mass-production and of waiting queues comes from a level of thought which is here hopelessly inadequate. If other natural creatures than Man have sinned we must believe that they are redeemed: but God’s Incarnation as Man will be one unique act in the drama of total redemption and other species will have witnessed wholly different acts, each equally unique, equally necessary and differently necessary to the whole process, and each (from a certain point of view) justifiably regarded as “the great scene” of play. To those who live in Act II, Act III looks like an epilogue: to those who live in Act III, Act II looks like a prologue. And both are right until they add the fatal word merely, or else try to avoid it by the dullard’s supposition that both acts are the same. #RandolphHarris 8 of 23
All the kinds of knowledge that demand reflection, all those acquired only by the concatenation of ideas and perfected only successively, appear to be utterly beyond grasp of savage man, owing to the lack of communication with one’s fellow-men, that is to say, owing to the lack of the instrument which is used for that communication, and to the lack of the needs that make it necessary. His understanding and his industry are limited to jumping, running, fighting, throwing a stone, climbing a tree. However, if he knows only those things, in return he knows them much better than we, who do not have the same need for them as he. And since they depend exclusively on bodily exercise and are not capable of any communication or progress from one individual to another, the firs man could have been just as adept at them as his last descendants. The reports of travelers are full of examples of the force and vigor of men of barbarous savage nations. They praise scarcely less their adroitness and nimbleness. And since eyes alone are needed to observe these things, nothing hinders us from giving credence to what eyewitnesses certify on the matter. I draw some random examples from the first books that fall into my hands. “The Hottentots,” says Kolben, “understand fishing better than the Europeans at the Cape. Their skill is equal when it comes to the net, the hook and the spear, in coves as well as in rivers. They catch fish by hand no less skillfully. They are incomparably good at swimming. Their style of swimming has something surprising about it, something entirely unique to them. They swim with their body upright and their hands stretched out of the water, so that they appear to be walking on land. #RandolphHarris 9 of 23
In the greatest agitation of the sea, when the waves form so many mountains, they somehow dance on op of the waves, rising and falling like a piece of cork. “The Hottentots,” say the same author further, “are surprisingly good at hunting, and the nimbleness of their running surpasses the imagination.” He is amazed that they did not put their agility to ill use more often, which however, sometimes happens, as can be judged from the example he gives. “A Dutch sailor,” he says, “on disembarking at the Cape, charged a Hottentot to follow him to the city with a roll of tobacco that weighed about twenty pounds. When they were both some distance from the crew, the Hottentot asked the sailor if he knew how to run. Run! answered the Dutchman; yes, very well. Let us see, answered the African. And feeling with the tobacco, he disappeared almost immediately. The sailor, confounded by such marvelous quickness, did not think of following him, and he never again saw either his tobacco or his porter. “They have such quick sight and such a sure hand that Europeans cannot go near them. At a hundred paces they will hit with a stone a mark the size of a halfpenny. And what is more amazing, instead of fixing their eyes on the target as we do, they make continuous movements and contortions. It appears that their stone is carried by an invisible hand.” Father du Tertre says about the savages of the Antilles nearly the same things that have just been read about the Hottentots of the Cape of Good Hope. He praises, above all, their accuracy in shooting with their arrows birds in flight and swimming fish, which they then catch by diving for them. The savages of North America are no less famous for their strength and adroitness, and here is an example that will lead us form a judgment about these qualities in the Indians of South America. #RandolphHarris 10 of 23
In the year 1746, an Indian from Buenos Aires, having been condemned to the galleys of Cadiz, proposed to the governor that he buy back his liberty by risking his life at a public festival. He promised that by himself he would attack the fiercest bull with no other weapon in his hand but a rope; that he would bring him to the ground, seize him with his rope by whatever part they would indicate, saddle him, bridle him, mount him, and so mounted he would fight two other of the fiercest bulls to be released from the Torillo, and that he would put all of them to death, one after the other, the moment they would command him to do so, and without anyone’s help. This was granted him. The Indian kept his word and succeeded in everything he had promised. On the way in which he did it and on the details of the fight, one can consult M. Gautier, Observations sur l’ Histoire Naturelle, Vol. I (in-12), p. 262, whence this fact is taken. What is the nature of the analytic work which is performed at the “vertical” barriers? What are the activities of the analyst? It is to bring the central sector of the personality to an acknowledgement of the simultaneous existence (1) of unaltered conscious and preconscious narcissistic and/or perverse aims, and (2) of the realistic goal structures and the moral and aesthetic standards which reside in the central sector. This is not as cold or complex a process as the language implies. It is amazing how close to “kissing it better” the whole business sometimes is. Or is it amazing that psychotherapists are only now finding a place for such processes in their theories? #RandolphHarris 11 of 23
How does a person become strong, in the sense of having good self-esteem, a good ability to understand situation and cope with them, a good personality organization which allows feeling and needs to find expression in actions and gratifications which in turn fee self-esteem? Bluntly, we do not know for sure. We may make some guesses based on what good parents and good therapists are thought by some to have in common. Let us think of a simple, everyday pain: a child has hurt a finger. The finger gives pain. The pain must be recognized and accepted. Parents know this who put large plasters on tiny grazes. They give recognition to the fact that the child has had a shock. The pain was a shock. The child’s illusions of omnipotence or safety may have shattered. It has certainly been reminded that it does not have perfect control over what happens to it. The suddenness of the shock may have been experienced as an impingement—this needs healing as much as the graze does, so that the boundaries of the self may feel secure again. Consolation is needed. So mourning with the child, as in depression about other losses: mouring the fact that the World is not a better place, and mouring our limited power to be safe and keep our good things safe. In mouring there is a kind of recognition and acceptance which is consoling. The process takes a while, and during that time we just have to sit about, being not doing. London April 2003: I am sitting in my armchair reading. Leo walks in, stifling his sobs, clambers on my lap, positions himself upright, facing away, tilts his head fully back, and bursts into howls and howls and howls. #RandolphHarris 12 of 23
I make a move to cuddle him but he elbows my arms away, and when I tentatively touch the tips of his fingers, by way of some gesture of consolation, he snatches them away, and his howls threaten to turn into shrikes, or even skreeks. As his howls continue, I have just time to check my impulse to ask him what is the matter to hug him, stroke his hair, to offer him words of comfort, before he is lowering his head and turning to look at me for the first time, his last howl fades. In one smile he says hello, bye-bye, perhaps thanks daddy. With a sigh of completion, he gets down from my lap, and without a word between us since he came in and without looking back, he ambles out the door, ready for his next adventure with Nacho. This is why bed-rest is sometimes a good treatment (to accompany other help) in the case of psychologically wounded people. It would be great if hospitals could provide this. However alas, financial shortages, the wrong medical model of psychological troubles, and demoralized management structure which cannot support and educate its nursing staff, militate against this as things are at present—as does the professional’s passion to be doing or at least talking. Jus as the good-enough parent accepts the small child as it is, giving recognition and acceptance by “mirroring” in an atmosphere which implies that what is seen in the mirror is good, so will therapists, accepting people who are hoping for a new beginning, find themselves impelled to mirror. Mirroring is not quite interpreting, though in some ways near it. The best simple example comes from Virginia Axline’s account of her work with Dibs, the very anxious and confused little boy of four who had been very much overwhelmed by parents obsessed with doing at the expense of being. Dibs remembered his therapy as “Everything I did, you did. Everything I said, you said.” #RandolphHarris 13 of 23
Good parents give the small child permission to be just whatever it happens to be at the time. And they not only give it room to be, but also recognize that it is a person in its own right, even before it is so, and praise it for what it is not yet. They also validate its needs and requirements. They also provide the conditions for ego-relatedness, allowing the child to feel safe and protected and yet not obligated by their presence. So the child feels safe enough to begin to discover something about itself in the World. In much the same way, friends and therapists can provide an opportunity for people to discover that it is safe just to be, to be arglos, undefended, in a safe ego-related us-related state. In this state of mind people can let their thoughts drift in a free-association kind of way. It may be that, contentedly in touch with a person who matters to them and whom they have come to trust they are unconsciously getting close to sharing something which cannot (yet) be put into words. They may be getting ready to be a person they have not yet dared to be, or to reveal a split-off par of self which had hitherto been disowned. Words are no very suitable for conveying your essential being. The new (organization of the) self is therefore sometimes acted out somehow, the person half-hoping that the right response from the first or psychotherapist will do something that will somehow make something good happen. This is a route by which people can sometimes get back to a state of being when something was so unbearable that they had to stay split. At such times there may be a lot of anger, or other behaviour it is as hard to put up with as it would be in a three-person regions of relationships. #RandolphHarris 14 of 23
However, this can be a cover-up. In these regressions, anguish is much more common, and may be the norm. Can this be conveyed in words, except by a poet? “I am gall, I am heartburn. God’s most deep decree, bitter would have me taste: my taste was me; bones built in me, flesh filled, blood brimmed the curse. Selfyeast of spirit a dull dough scours. I see the lost are like this, and their sciurage o be as I am mine, their sweating selves; but worse.” (Gerard Manely Hopkins, I wake and feel the fell of dark, not day.) Therapists, parents, or friends, faced with these feelings, may find themselves in conflict. This person who has come for help seems so clearly to need comfort and reassurance, is so obviously in agony, ashamed, or frightened; the feelings are so hard to bear. How to react for the best? On the one hand, here is a person in pain. On the other hand, the pain could be very largely due to some very distorted ideas about how others would react if they really knew them. Those ideas need to be changed. Putting them right by reassurance or sensible arguments has not worked in the past and does not seem worth trying again. The old pain, the shame-making situation, the hidden person, have first to come into view and be seen and acknowledged and recognized and shared. After that it may become possible to repair the damage which had previously prevented the bad experienced from being fully integrated into the personality at the obvious moment, the moment when they first aroused. However, integration can be achieved only if they are now allowed to come into consciousness, now, while the sufferer is in a relationship with someone willing to have them come to light. #RandolphHarris 15 of 23
The process must therefore not be impeded by too many expressions or reassurance and comfort, however, well meant, least the sufferer get the idea that we cannot bear (contain, accept, integrate) these feelings either. That might cause such an increase in anxiety that the splits would be deepened rather than mended. The whole point of reviving all that pain is to have someone there who is able to survive it, contain it, and integrate it. Recognition is basic need. To be recognized is part of the healing process, whether it be recognition of good or of bad things. What is recognized is that here is someone who has lived thus and has felt thus and not otherwise. Just the experience of going to pieces, of being lost, furious, disgusting, terrified, ignored, yet safe and known and accepted, may be what a person is after, just the experience of being so in someone else’s presence and not having to do anything about it. When does a person need the kind of recognition that goes with support and with praise for achievement, and when do people need us to stand back and let them be a little while longer? It is clear that it is not supportive to prevent people from telling us their bad feelings when they are urgent to do so, and there is time, and we are ready to hear them. And it is not supportive to behave like blocks of stone while we are listening. Or to just say, “Okay,” which is the same as saying “I do not care. Why are you bothering me with your petty concerns? I have better things to do.” However, how far to go? #RandolphHarris 16 of 23
It has been interesting to see the newer therapies which are less firmly attached to psycho-analytic roots and which have recently gained in popularity—Transactional Analysis, Gestalt, Bio-energetics, Psychosynthesis, and so on—also grappling with this question. These newer techniques are much more empathic about the need to provide safety, recognize “being,” and communicate acceptance. This emphasis derives from many sources; among others, there is the fact that they evolved in an era when people in fear of disintegration were seeking non-religious, non-medical, non-psycho-analytic help for their condition (and were often rightly avoided by more orthodox psychotherapies because they were considered unsuitable for psycho-analysis). Disintegrating people need holding, and the newer techniques are freer in encouraging comfort, praise, and warmth. Thus they help people to bear both the pain of their everyday lives and the pain of therapy, where painful new discoveries are made and painful old feelings revived: people get a supply of strength while they seek new ways of being. Groups are ideal for this purpose, different members offering different gifts of themselves, and support coming from many quarters at once. The more orthodox psycho-analytically based therapies on the whole refrain from giving gratifying support of this kind, and this can be hard both on patient and on therapist—the many warnings against it prove how strong the temptation is. They impose restraint on the grounds that people must eventually find those gratifications for themselves in themselves and in others: the wrong kind of dependence may be created when a therapist gives realistic gratifications. #RandolphHarris 17 of 23
Abstinence from support, praise, warmth, or reassurance can serve another purpose also: it can serve to give recognition to our strivings to be strong, able, competent. Having given rom for ocnophilic dependency-needs, room has equally to be made for the philobat’s independence-strivings. So while many of the newer therapies at first made much of physically holding people, surrounding them with cuddling words and gestures, many are now also quite explicit on the importance of waiting for people to stop sobbing or shouting, letting then gain control over themselves, and allowing them to find within themselves the strength needed for self-control and self-esteem. Older and newer agree on the importance of people finding out for themselves who they are and what they can do and what they like doing. However, their methods of achieving this vary, particularly here, in the timing and indeed the nature of helpful interventions. There seem at present no hard and fast rules which make things right for everyone. We will, for a while longer, just have to guess what each particular person needs at a particular moment, to help one with become strong enough to bear reality after having denied it for son long or after having distorted it and secretly held on to all kinds of cherished delusions which must now be given up. We have been considering why and how parents and others might create an atmosphere in which it feels safe for people to let themselves go, in which they can be defenceless and even go to pieces, and yet know that someone is looking after them. #RandolphHarris 18 of 23
A more realistic phase is now starting. Conversations are becoming possible. From he very early days, of people’s life and of their therapy, there will have been phantasies about the World, about living, about parents and/or therapists, sometimes of a quite frightening kind. What is to happen to these phantasies? The time has come for them to be established as either true or untrue. In the early days, the parent/therapist’s role was concentrated on providing an atmosphere which conveyed that it was all right to have phantasies, not wrong to have thoughts about anything. In therapy this often comes as a surprise, and the discovery has therapeutic effects. However, when conversations become possible, further gains can be achieved. Words can now be provided, for use when thinking, or talking about hazardous things—words in which the at-first blurry phantasies can be talked about, words like “muscle” words like “hate,” words like “disagree” and “conflict.” The parent/therapist can now convey new things to the child (part of us) knowing that we are ready for it. The parent/therapist teaches, making meaning for us, or helping us to find meaning, still often ego-functioning for us as a form of support. Verbal labels help us look for and remember things—symbolic thought become possible, reasoning. Explanations can now be made in words; there is less need to reply on direct experience to make the connections. “If you put your fingers into those little holes, you might get a nasty shock from the electric current.” “It may be that you are feeling disgruntled because you missed a session last week, and now you feel somehow sold short.” #RandolphHarris 19 of 23
Facts will be changing accordingly. The parent/therapist can say, or allow the discover to be made, that a particular phantasy is true (or false, as the case may be): “Yes, fathers and mothers go on dates.” “No, your mother is not a child.” The child learns language. The child learns road safety, and crocheting, and other skills. Some of these are learned because someone sets out to teach them. I think there is an observable difference between those whose parents took trouble over such things, and those who were left too entirely to their own devices. In somewhat the same way there is a difference between people whose therapists’ techniques differed in this respect. Words, skills, and the ability to look after yourself are related. At this time in development, the child part of us is now no longer so confined to creating its own realities as in the ego-related state. We become interested in our new opportunities—and discover new limitations. We being to be interested in doing things for ourselves; now we need to be allowed freer opportunities to discover both the World and our place in it. At this time we need recognition that we can safely be strong enough to do things for ourselves. We need to be allowed to discover what we can do, with fairly wide limits, and not be inhibited too much in our play and our trial-and-error explorations, which necessarily involve a good deal of error, failure, and frustration. Yet good parents are very much there: they are no uninvolved, or let the child discover things for itself in a laissez-faire sort of way. They give praise in recognition of the fact that it is strong and can do things. However, they protect the child’s growing self-confidence by keeping away problems which might prove too overwhelmingly difficult, which would necessarily defeat it and sap its growing self-esteem. #RandolphHarris 20 of 23
The child needs protection against what it cannot yet handle. Support is needed for instance when we have to give up our omnipotent or endlessly greedy phantasies. Part of this support consists of help in recognizing limits: “No, you cannot have the moon, but you can have my love, and a hug, and a game with Tommy next door.” Support is needed, too, while learning to accept the reality of other people “Yes, you can play with Tommy but no, you must not kick him. He does not like it any more than you would.” We need to have boundaries pointed out to us and maintained, if necessary against our wishes at the time. In psychotherapy, the therapist’s willingness to do this new kind of holding may be tried and tested over and over. At this time, a laid-back psychotherapist, laissez-faire because anxious not to intrude, may fail to provide a feeling of safety. At this stage, when there is much frustration and disillusionment at what is not possible as well as much pleasure at what can be now done, the need for reliable, comforting, sharing-the-mourning kind of holding is as crucial as ever. It is what gives us the strength and vitality to keep on trying. These periods of being-at-rest and being-at-one allow the new things to be securely integrated and valued. They bring us back to our central strength. For we can be sure that we have the seeds of the goodness and strength we need hidden and repressed or split-off though they may be. Locked in our memory are traces of the experiences which enabled us to survive. We know that this is so because we have in fact survived. We did not die. At least the minimum goodness was there, and just enough strength, at least. We are already posses of what we need, if we can but get to it. #RandolphHarris 21 of 23
With the discover of this higher self, there comes a conviction of truth gained, a sense of perfect assurance, and a feeling of happy calmness. “Oh joy! that in our embers is something that doth live, that nature yet remembers what was so fugitive! The thought of our past years in me doth breed perpetual benediction: not indeed for that which is most worthy to be blest—delight and liberty, the simple creed of children, whether busy or at rest, with new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast:–not for these I raise the song of thanks and praise…but for those first affections, those shadowy recollections, which, be they what they may, are yet the fountain-light of all our day, are yet a master-light of all our seeing; uphold us, cherish, and have power to make our noisy years seem moments in the being of the eternal Silence: truth that wake, to perish never: which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavour, now Man nor Boy, nor all that is at enmity with joy, can utterly abolish or destroy! Hence in a season of calm weather though inland far we be, our souls have sigh of that immortal sea which brough us hither, can in a moment travel thither, and see the children sport upon the shore, and hear the mighty waters rolling evermore. Then sing, ye birds, sing, sing a joyous song!” (William Wordsworth, Ode on Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood.) Hear, O Humankind, the prayer of my heart for are we not one, have we not one desire, to heal our Mother Earth and bind her wounds to hear again from dark forests and flashing rivers the varied ever-changing Song of Creation? O humankind, are we not all brothers and sisters, are we not the grandchildren of the Great Mystery? Do we not all want o love and be loved, to work and to play, to sing and dance together? However, we live with fear. #RandolphHarris 22 of 23
Fear that is hate, fear that is mistrust, envy, greed, vanity, fear that is ambition, competition, aggression, fear that is loneliness, anger, bitterness, cruelty…and yet, fear is only twisted love, turned back on itself, love that was denied, love that was rejected…and love. Love is life—creation, seed, and lead, and blossom, and fruit, and seed, love is growth and search and reach and touch and dance. Love is nurture and succor and feed and pleasure, love is pleasuring ourselves pleasuring each other, love is life believing in itself. And life…life is the Sacred Mystery singing to itself, dancing to its drum, telling tales, improvising, playing and we are all that Spirit, our stories all but one cosmic story that we are love indeed, that perfect love in me seeks the love in your, and if our eyes could ever meet without fear we would recognize each other and rejoice, for love is life believing in itself. The glimpse will affect each individual in a different way, although the feeling of stepping out of darkness into light will be common to all. Within and around the Earth, within and around the hills, within and around the mountains, your authority returns to you. Help Thine establish dwelling, the tranquil habitation, the tabernacle of America, the goal of the tribe’s pilgrimage, the precious corner-stone, even America, the excellent, the Holy of Holies, the object of your affection, the home of Thy glory. O save America, yea, save the hill to which the World turns. O Eternal, we beseech Thee, do Thou save us. Saviour of might ones that swelt with Thee in Lud, the land whence Thou didst set them free; so save Thou us! As Thou didst save together God and nation, the people singled out for God’s salvation; so save Thou us! The house of Thy redeemed, with manifold Angelic hosts were saved by Thee of Old. So save us Thou us! #RandolphHarris 23 of 23
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Some People Feel they May Be Flying Apart–We Do Not Forgive Because it Benefits Us!
My turn at last, my Loquacious if Lofty Friend. “How multitudinous are Your sweetness, O Lord, which You have hoarded for those who fear you!” That was the shout of the Psalmist (31.19), and it is my shout too. However, what are You to those who love? And to those who serve You with their whole heart? You are the sweetness of contemplation—who can describe it?—that You bestow generously on those who love You. To this point, in the most generous way possible, You have shown me the sweetness of Your charity. How do I know? You have made me into something better than I was, what I am not, and when I have strayed far afield, You found me and led me back. Hence it is that I serve You now. What is more? You have laid down the one condition, that I should love You. No big deal! I do that already. Although not very well, as You are so fond of pointing out. O Fountain of Perpetual Love! What may I say about You? How can I forget You after You kept me on Your list of friends, even after I pined away and died the spiritual death. Your response to Your servant at that unhappy time was extravagant, an act of friendship, making my every hope a mercy, and my every merit a grace. “What can I give You in return for that grace?” I ask with the Psalmist (116.12). Not everyone has received it. Not everyone has been called to leave everything behind, renounce the World, enter the monastic life. At this point—and, before You say it, O Lord, I do have a point—may I ask a stupid question? What is so great about serving You? We are already under all obligation to serve You; yes, the whole of Humankind. So pardon me if I do not think it is such a great new idea. #RandolphHarris 1 of 18
What is really great, though—and this is an argument You seemed to have missed—is that You picked a pauper and a pooper like me for You monastery and put me in the company of Your beloved self-actualized. Now that is astounding! That is astonishing! Look at all this Earthly clutter of mine! It is Yours too, as the First Book of Chronicles has it (29.14), at least according to the terms of our present agreement, and I use bits and bobs of it to serve You. However, that is the wrong end to approach it from. You serve me more than I serve You. Just take a look at Heaven and Earth. You created them for the use of Humankind. They are right here in front of our eyes, and every day they do just what You have ordered them to do. And this is just the beginning. “You have ordered the Angels to minister to Humankind,” as the Psalmist has it (91.11). Transcending all of this transcendence is Your deigning to serve Humanity and promising to give Yourself to us. All those thousands of gifts You have given me, what can I give in return? I know. I will serve You all the days of my life! Better, I will serve You just one day of my life, but I will make it a day of perfect service! Ah, my Lord and Gracious Friend, “You are worth the perfect service, and all the honour and eternal praise that go with it,” as the twenty-four elders in Revelations sang to the Spirit on the throne (4.11). As for me, poor servant that I am, I have vowed to serve You with every fiber of my being, to praise You without ever stinting. That is my wish. That is my desire. And you know what I like best? Whenever I come undone, You kindly see to my mending. #RandolphHarris 2 of 18
Great honor? To serve You! Great glory? To condemn everything else because of You. Like me, those who on the spur of the moment enlisted in Your Most Holy Service have a great grace. That is to say, we who ditched every carnal delight now discover the most delightful consolation of the Holy Spirit. We who ignored the World’s broad highways and followed Your pointy sign down the narrow dirt road, as Matthew quoted You (7.14), are having a fairly pleasant journey. How sweet is the service of the Lord! Yes, my Lordly if sometimes Leery Friend, we like to think the monastery a great and happy place, and we hope You think the same. And yes, religious service has a lot to recommend it. As You say, it does indeed promote Freedom and Holiness. And it does render Humankind equal to Angels, satisfactory to God, unwelcome to Demons, and commendable to all faithful! It is a life one can learn to love and embrace for a lifetime. A service promising the Summum Bonum. With the Gaudium Perenne to boot! In the Church, we are frequently reminded about the importance forgiving one another. We are told that we are “required to forgive all humans,” reports Doctrine and Covenants 64.10. Forgiveness is our responsibility. However, when we teach our children the principle of repentance, more is involved than saying “I am sorry.” Repentance required that we change our lives and, if possible, make amends for our mistakes. This is where the principle of restitution comes in. Restitution has always been a part of the gospel plan. We read in the law of Moses that when one has sinned against another, “one shall even restore it in the principal, and shall add the fifth part more hereto,” reports Leviticus 6.5. #RandolphHarris 3 of 18
When we make a restitution for our sins, we show our Father in Heaven that we are willing to change our lives. As parents, we can d much to instill this important principle in our family. Restitution should be made for mistakes. If we run into the back of someone else’s car, it is called an “accident.” However, the law still expects us to pay for having the other car repaired. Restitution is just one part of repentance. Repentance really involves changing our hearts and our lives and accepting the atonement of Christ. Everyone needs to know that God loved them so much that “He gave his only begotten Son,” reports John 3.16. God did that so people could repent. He paid the wages for your sins. The wages of sin is death. It is also important to understand that restitution would be of little worth without the great sacrifice of the Lord Jesus Christ. We are so tied to the foolish idea which regards body and mind as two wholly separate and different entities, that all too many regard it as undignified to practice physical exercises in order to influence the mind. The discoveries of mentalism show how foolish is such an attitude, how much we miss in outer helps to inner attainment. Whether or not someone else provides restitution to us when we have been hurt, we should still forgive. Two types of studies inform what we know about forgiveness and mental health: studies of people with forgiving personalities, and studies that teach people how to forgive. Some research examines the mental health of people who already have unforgiving or forgiving personalities. Some people seem to harbor grudges, and some practice forgiveness across a range of hurtful experiences. #RandolphHarris 4 of 18
Unforgiving people—whether college students in research studies or clients in therapy—feel more anxious, depressed, and inferior than forgiving people. But why? Does a forgiving personality result in better mental health? Does better mental health make it easier to forgive across situations and over time? Or does adherence to faith—or even the support of family and friends—promote both a forgiving personality style and better mental health? Although we do not yet know the answers to these questions, we do know something about the effects of forgiving in response to specific hurts. In separate universities, both Robert Enright and Everett Worthington Jr. have studied the effects of teaching forgiveness. Can people learn to forgive? It seems so—for adolescents and the elderly, men and women, survivors of incest and people with everyday hurts, and people in individual and group therapy. What are the mental-health benefits? Generally, forgiveness therapies increase clients’ willingness and ability to forgive. When clients complete forgiveness therapies, they feel less grief, depression, anxiety, and anger. They also feel more self-esteem, more hope, more-optimistic attitudes toward family members and other offenders, and more desire for reconciliation. Forgiveness therapies work better than control conditions without treatment. However, forgiveness therapies do not always surpass supportive discussion therapies (both treatments can benefit mental health). Even so, people who forgive more—regardless of the type of therapy—have lower depression and anxiety, and high self-esteem. If clients feel wounded by or vengeful toward an offender—forgives therapy can both help them forgive and improve their mental health. #RandolphHarris 5 of 18
Most physical health studies have focused primarily on the health consequences of being unforgiving. In type A personalities—highly competitive, ambitious, rushed, easily angered, and hostile—hostility is the dangerous part, ratcheting up the risk of dying early from heart disease. Why? For one, hostile people are more physically reactive when they perceive interpersonal offenses (and they might even be more likely to perceive offenses in the first place). When angered, hostile people experience an exaggerated release of stress hormones, a large cholesterol dump into the blood stream, and a suppressed immune response, to name a few. On top of that, hostile people typically smoke more, overeat, and drink more alcohol—all risky for heart health. As if that were not enough, hostile people often lack social support—they are not as much fun to be around!—placing them at risk for both mental and physical problems. If hostility—an unforgiving personality style—is physically dangerous, then reducing hostility should reduce coronary problems. Indeed, type A’s who learned to manage their anger and become more forgiving also improved their cardiac health. What are some other consequences of being unforgiving or forgiving? College students in one study remembered someone from real life who had hurt them. At different points in the experiment, they focused on four different reactions to his offender: they mentally rehashed the hurt and nursed a grudge (two unforgiving responses), and they focused on the humanity of the offender and tried to genuinely forgive him or her (two forgiving responses). #RandolphHarris 6 of 18
When the students focused on unforgiving responses, their blood pressure rates, heart rates, sweat levels, brow muscle tension, and negative feelings: all were significantly higher than when the students were forgiving. By contrast, forgiving responses induced calmer feelings and physical responses. It appears that harboring unforgiveness comes at an emotional and physiological cost. By contrast, cultivating forgiveness may cut these costs and even bring some benefits, at least in the short term. The jury is out on the long-terms health effects of forgiveness. Perhaps future research will trac people over time and document long-term health outcomes. Will forgiving and unforgiving responses have long term effects on health if they are sufficiently frequent, intense, and enduring? When physiological systems stay highly aroused, they can eventually lead to physical breakdown. If forgiveness clams that arousal, it could buffer health. The challenge we now face is to help people learn not only how to forgive in the short term, but how to make forgiving a way of life. When we consistently practice the virtue of forgiving, we may see the greatest mental and physical health benefits. As Christians, we care about forgiveness and might readily embrace the beneficial messages about forgiveness and health. However, does this promising research have any potential pitfalls? Let us look at three examples. Can research prove Christian claims? Scientific research on forgiveness—and other virtues—holds value for addressing some questions (such as who is more likely to forgive, and what effects forgiveness has on feelings and physiology). #RandolphHarris 7 of 18
However, the scientific method in incapable of testing the ultimate truth claims of Christianity. Although science can illuminate the relationships among forgiveness-related thoughts, feelings, and physiology, science cannot tell us whether we ought to forgive. And whereas science can assess whether certain people judge forgiveness to be a virtue (and whether this is related to their behaviour), science cannot determine whether forgiving is virtuous. Is good behavior always good for us? It seems reasonable that something that we believe is good would also be good for us. However, this is not necessarily so. Being faithful and doing what is good does not inevitably secure good mental and physical health. People may alienate us because our beliefs are countercultural. We may suffer scorn for our faithful labours. We may feel depressed as we work with the sick and sorrowing. Sometimes discipleship has a cost. Why forgive? Some Christians have come to think that the reason they should forgive and should not hold grudges is because forgiveness is healthier. The because in that sentence is problematic. As valuable as research data are, they simply cannot serve as our ultimate motivation. Scientific data describe the way things are and help us predict what will happen in the future. However, these predictions do not always hold up. What would happen if—in future research—we discovered that forgiveness was so difficult for some people that it caused stress, negative emotion, and physical problems? Would that mean that we should stop forgiving? What would Christians do? In the best case, Christians’ motivation to forgive would be unshaken. #RandolphHarris 8 of 18
We do not forgive because it benefits us. Those benefits may be a welcome by-product. However, our motivation to forgive is rooted in God’s call to forgive, our gratitude for God’s forgiveness of us, and our desire to imitate Christ—the one who perfectly modeled forgiveness and even now perfects our efforts to practice forgiveness. Many therapists believe that some people need to go to pieces, to become totally disorganized, in order to have a chance at better organization. I think this may be true as things stand at present. Our understanding of psychotherapy is not sufficiently developed for therapists to be able to help people disintegrate just in the right area and to the right extent, and in fifty-minute packages! Nor is enough known as yet about the circumstances in which the natural healing process (vis medicatrix naturae) will work best, and how we may encourage it. There is still much to learn. What is clear, however, is that some people feel that they may be falling apart, or even flying apart. An absolutely terrifying state of mind, an unbearable agony; yet this may have already happened in infancy: the unbearable has already happened. Yet is maybe that this is a thing that may need to happen to them again before they can get to an integrated personality-structure which feels better at a fundamental level. It is also clear that they need to be held somehow during that falling-apart time. It is surely almost obvious that being held by a hospital organization or a bed or drug. In practice, however, there is still a lot that psychotherapists need to learn. A little more is known about more controlled therapeutic regressions and relaxations of integration. #RandolphHarris 9 of 18
At certain times in therapy, we may be in touch with a baby part of ourselves, and its terrible experiences, while at an adult level, too, all is confusion, disintegration, lack of connectedness, lack of context or meaning. This horrible experience is nothing new. What is new is the experience of feeling like this in the presence of someone who can take all this without losing one’s hold. At first, the adult part of us cannot hold on, never having been able to since babyhood. However, the therapist holds it, is not swallowed up by it, does not deny it but continues to be in touch both with the disintegrated adult and the disintegrated baby parts. In due course, if things go well, the adult part of us co-operates with the therapist in holding the baby and, further along in time, the therapist’s help is no longer needed. Then, the adult is able to feel the baby’s disintegration without feeling overwhelmed by it—the disintegration is integrated as part of the personality: it is not the whole. It is this that helps people get better. The facilitating environment is there to enable the maturational processes to proceed: safety, recognition, opportune reality-presentation. What else? A facilitating environment is in the end not enough. People are needed. Persons. Personal relationships between two whole persons, because one of them is still a tenuous patchwork of disintegrated and suffering adult and baby bits, even then it is important that there is a person in the relationship who is adult and whole, and that is the therapist. Like a good parent, like a good friend, the therapist is there to maintain the consoling knowledge that there are still good things, and most basically, that the good relationship has survived. “You are still you, I am still I, we are still together and sharing.” #RandolphHarris 10 of 18
“You and I are both at risk of natural disaster but the relationship is surviving.” “You may be (I may be) more confused, more lost, more inept, more of a coward, more sadistic or dirtier than you wanted to believe, but we both know it now and the relationship is still there.” “Your parent(s) may have been more confused, lost, inept, cowardly, sadistic, or dirty than you wanted to believe, but we both know it now, and the relationship is still intact.” That is what holding is. It is not easy to achieve. If analysts concentrate on either the grandiose or the wretched part of the psyche, they waste their time. Both must be accepted, both held: when they are, then parts of the personality which were previously disowned will contribute strength and solidity to the whole. Less than two centuries ago most humans were working on the land, the sea, and the forests and mines. In the cities they worked in hand-operated workshops and the cities themselves were no so large; the countryside was close at hand. They worked hard and long, using the muscles of their bodies, and so did their wives. This involuntary exercise of the muscular system, this exposure to sunshine and fresh air, this limitation to fresh and unpreserved foods, kept most of them healthy and strong even if the lack of better housing and sanitation kept short the lives of some of them. Then came the industrial revolution, when the machine and the civilization it created changed their habits of living. Now they crowd into cities, enter sedentary occupations, sit in chairs for long hours, or stand at mechanical assembly lines. Their bodies become soft, flabby, and undeveloped. Their organs of digestion function imperfectly. #RandolphHarris 11 of 18
Yet such is their hypnotized condition that these people do not realize the harm which modern ways have done them; indeed, they usually pity their ancestors! However, those who do realize it and feel uneasy in their conscience about it, need to make a constructive effort to eliminate the deterioration and the atrophy which are the price paid for straying away from Nature. There is no better way to bring the body under control than the way used to bring the mind under control—to put in under a daily routine of exercise and to have a fixed time for their repeated practice. The best time naturally to do exercise is on rising from bed, but it may not be the most convenient time. If the body is a battery and needs regular recharging (through relaxation practices), it is also a structure and needs reconditioning (through indicated exercises). Cicero’s prescription to follow the daily period of exercise with a period of rest is an excellent one. It is possible with only twelve months of regular, daily work to build up a perfect physical control. The ordinary bodily exercises can soon become tiring to middle-aged people. Moreover they take twice or treble the time needed for the simple culture of the spine, which is the most concentrated form of exercise possible. It stretches the body to the limit. It may be too much to ask students who have reached middle or old age to try all these exercises in physical betterment or follow all these instructions in physical condition. However, what they may find impossible to perform or what they may be disinclined to practice, they can still make advantageous use in the following way. #RandolphHarris 12 of 18
Let them bring such teaching to the notice of younger persons, to children in their teens and those just beyond the threshold of adulthood—for it is far easier for these younger persons to do than for older ones. The effort required is much less, the habits not so much encrusted. The body is deliberately made to exercise itself in certain attitudes and gestures. Any gesture become an attitude when it is arrested. Care of the physical organism will require attention to physical exercise as well as physical relaxation and to deep and abdominal breathing. The disuse of some muscles and the misuse of others can only lead to bodily faults. Restore he first to use, correct the second. As the new 20th century opened, antiquated Victorian social patterns were further substantially modified by a Progressive Era emphasis on the housewife as a “domestic engineer.” This was consciously advocated by Progressives and middle-road feminists to elevate household activities to the realm of skilled domestic engineering in order to provide housewives both higher status and greater personal freedom. No longer could a middle-class woman know only how to manage servants; now she was a manager responsible for the “scientific management” of the home. This meant she had to know budgeting, sanitation, and the characteristics of foods (balanced meals); she had to be an informed consumer. This emphasis on domestic science was reflected in schools and colleges, which established departments of Home Economics. The land grant colleges which had first brought professional programs such as dentistry and engineering onto campuses, were also in the forefront in establishing programs of home economics for the application of domestic science. (Following World War II, the idea of scientific management was further extended by universities into the realm of personal relations with the proliferation of courses on Marriage and Family.) #RandolphHarris 13 of 18
All the concern with domestic management was designed to increase women’s freedom by making the home role more professional and less restrictive. Mary Pattison made this explicit in her influential Principles of Domestic Engineering, where she sought to make the home more efficient by standardizing household tasks into science (May Pattison, Principles of Domestic Engineering: or What, Why, and How of a Home, Trow Press, New York, 1915). Through the use of stopwatch and charts plus several thousand questionnaires that had been distributed to Ne Jersey housewives, the efficient ways to cook clean, and sew were detailed. The titles of some of the chapters give a sense of the scope of the work. Titles of chapters include, “An Auto-Operative House,” “The Business of Purchasing,” “The Regeneration of the Kitchen,” “Personal Freedom,” “Organization of the Family,” “The Cultural Value of Housework,” “The Organization of the Consumer,” and “Housework and Democracy.” The scientific management of the home was tied to progressive idealism. According to the book’s final paragraph, “the truly progressive home is akin to democracy’s method…Domestic engineering would encourage cooperation between men and women leading to personal freedom and personal independence.” The new progressive idealism shows Democracy as a Religion, where men and women guided by God, united, shall work for its issues. “He is in glory, Who whilst He rejoices in Himself, needs not further praise,” reports Moral xxxii, 7. To be in glory, however, is the same as to be blessed. Therefore, since we enjoy God in respect to our intellect, because “vision is the whole of reward,” as Augustine says (De Civ. Dei. xxii), it would seem that beatitude is said to be in God in respect of His intellect. #RandolphHarris 14 of 18
Beatitude is perfect good of an intellect operation, by which in some sense it grasps everything. When the beatitude of every intellectual nature consists in understanding. Now in God, to be and to understand are one and the same thing; differing only in the manner of our understanding them. Beatitude must therefore be assigned to God in respect of God in respect of His intellect; as also to the blessed, who are called blessed [beati] by reason of the assimilation to His beatitude. This argument proves that beatitude belongs to God; not that beatitude pertains essentially to Him under the aspect of His essence; but rather under the aspect of His intellect. Since beatitude is good, it is the object of the will; now the object is understood as prior to the act of power. Whence in our manner of understanding, divine beatitude precedes the act of will at rest in it. This cannot be other than the act of the intellect; and thus beatitude is to be found in an act of the intellect. With both the brief Glimpse and the lasting Fulfilment comes a strong feeling of release. This refers to release from all the various kinds of limitation and restriction which have hemmed and oppressed one heretofore. Like a prisoner emerging from a gloomy cell after many years of an invalid liberated from long confinement in a hospital bed, one will feel an overwhelming sense of relief as the glimpse deepens and all cares, all burdens, fade away. There is an air of effectiveness in the experience which accompanies the glimpse, a feeling that here is real power ready for use and easy to use, in the way that the Overself directs, of course. It is like the feeling of returning to a well-beloved home after long absence, a joy whose arisal is spontaneous and unavoidable. #RandolphHarris 15 of 18
When the glimpse is at its most, one hears within one the harmony of things like a joyous song. The stillness made one feel as religious and reverential as could be, yet one remained unpraying, even unthinking. The base, the mean, the unworthy, and the low seem alien and far from one: the noble, the high, the true, and the ideal seem to become one’s own very nature. From this rare contact one draws an unspeakable peace, a divine upliftment. Too many lives have a hard grey colour about them. The glimpse changes this, for an hour or a day, and puts a delicate pastel beauty in its place. All that is negative in one’s character fades away for the time of this glimpse, as if it had never existed. For one feels that there is pure harmony at the heart of things, within the Universe’s Mind, and that one has momentarily touched it. In these enchanted moments, all life takes on the shadowlike quality of a dream. The gulf between the impersonal calm of one’s present state and the egotistical emotion of one’s earlier one, is immense. The sudden Olympian elation which the glimpse gives, the unfamiliar feeling that it is like looking through a window on an entirely different and wholly glorious World of being, the inner knowing that this is reality—these things make it a benediction. When one is in that consciousness, there is nothing either in place or time which one wants for. For one’s mind is at peace. It is a strange paradox that in this experience although a human becomes infinitely humbler—for one has to be passive to surrender, if it is to happen at all—one finds at the same time an immense dignity within oneself. #RandolphHarris 16 of 18
In these glorious moments the awareness of evil in the World faces out; by contrast the continuity of original goodness stays unbroken. The sense of well-being which comes with a glimpse spreads into the body, lights up the mind, glows in the emotions. In its enfolding peace, one will lose one’s Earthly burdens for a time; by its brooding wisdom, one will comprehend the necessity of renunciation; through its mysterious spell, one will confer grace on suffering humans. As its beauty seeps into one and affects one’s entire feeling-nature, all one’s grievances against other humans, against life itself, dissolve. All regrets for the past, complaints about the present, and grumbles over the future, pass away. Even more, all contempt or hatred for other humans passes too. The glimpse brings a feeling of enchantment. It is the opening of a secret door. The effect is a magical release from burdens and a flooding by hope. So, friends, every day do something that will not compute. Love the Lord. Love the World. Work for nothing. Take all that you have and be humble. Love someone who does not deserve it (from afar). Denounce corruption and embrace the flag. Hope to live in that free republic for which it stands, one nation, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all. Praise ignorance, for what humans have not encountered one has not destroyed. Ask the questions that have no answers. Invest in the millennium. Plant redwoods. Say that your main crop is the forest that you did not plant, that you will not live to harvest. Say that the leaves are harvested when they have rotted into the mold. Call that profit. Prophesy such returns. Put your faith in the two inches of humus that will build under the trees every thousand years. Listen to carrion—put your ear close, and hear the faint chattering of the songs that are to come. #RandolphHarris 17 of 18
Expect the end of the World. Laugh. Laughter is immeasurable. Be joyful though you have considered all the facts. So long as the honourable do not go cheap for power, please honourable people more than others. Ask yourself: Will his satisfy an honourable person satisfied to a bear a child? Will this disturb the sleep of a woman near to giving birth? Go with your love to the fields. Let easy in the shade. Rest your head in her lap. Swear allegiance to what is nighest your thoughts. As soon as the general and the politicos can predict the motions of your mind, lose it. Leave it as a sign to mark the false trial, the way you did not go. Be like the fox who makes more tracks than necessary, some in the wrong direction. Practice resurrection. For the sake of Thy truth, Thy covenant, Thy greatness and glory; for the sake of Thy Torah, They majesty, Thy troth and Thy fame; for the sake of Thy mercy, Thy goodness, Thy unity, Thine honour, and Thy wisdom; for the sake of Thy sovereignty, Thine eternity, Thy mystic bond with us, Thy strength and Thy splendor; for the sake of Thy righteousness, Thy holiness, Thine abundant mercies, and Thy divine presence, do Thou save us; for the sake of Thy praise, do Thou save us, we beseech Thee. O Eternal, do Thou save us. Save Thou the World’s foundation-stone, the Temple, the house of Thy choice, the threshing-floor of Ornan, the Jebusite, from whom David bought the site of the Temple, the sacred shrine, even Mount Moriah, hill of revelation and abode of Thy majesty, where once David dwelt, godliest of Lebanon, lovely height, the joy of the whole Earth, perfection of beauty, lodging-place of righteousness. #RandolphHarris 18 of 18
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The Book of Job tells us, “He who uncovers mysteries hidden in darkness; brings utter darkness into the light.” Will man’s unquenching need for discovery bring about his end? You are hogging the conversation, my Garrulous if Gracious Friend, the way I hog the fire in the Winter! Do let me get a word in edgeways. The Great Abraham again, in Genesis again (18.27): “Let me speak to My Lord when I am dust and ash!” If that is not just the perfect description of myself about to pray! Of course, I could puff myself up a little, but then You would get mad. You would stand against me, line up my iniquities, and use them as witnesses against me! How could I contradict them? You would have me then. However, what would happen to me? I would vilify myself and reduce myself to nothing. I would give up all claim to reputation. I would pestle myself to death, or at least into dust. All this, and still Your grace would favor me, Still Your light would illumine my heart. However, still all would not be well. Everything about me that seemed so good, You would drown like kittens. And in the very puddles made by my nothingness. That done, You would show me to myself, what I am, what I was, where I have arrived, because, as he Psalmist has said in the Latin Bible, “I am nothing, and I know nothing,” (72.22). If, however, You take even a quick look at me, a sidelong glance maybe, I take on new strength, new joy. Wow! Raised up, revived, embraced. A feather, yes, but also a dead weight. Lett me go, O Lord, and I will plummet to the Lowest Depths at my slowest speed. Your love does this, preventing me from falling and raising me up once I have fallen, guarding me from grave dangers and yet rescuing me from all scrapes. Love of self—that was the dagger that did me in. #RandolphHarris 1 of 21
However, seeking You and loving You, I found not only You, but also myself. Then something happened. From that mutual love, I slid down the slippery slope again, bottoming out in the deepest wells. That is because You, O Sweetest Lord, You do for me far beyond what I could earn and above what I could ever dare hope or ask. Blessed are You, my God. That is the prayer of one who is all unworthy of Your blessings. Even to the ingrates and apostates Your infinite goodness never ceases doing good. Turn us around till we face You again, that again we may be thankful, dutiful, prayerful. What else can we say, except, with Isaiah, that “You are only salvation,” (33.2) and, with the Psalmist, our only “virtue and strength” (46.1). The Nature-religions merely reinforce that view of Nature which we spontaneously adopt in our moments of rude health and cheerful brutality; the anti-natural religions do the same for the view we take in moments of compassions, fastidiousness, or lassitude. The Christian doctrine does neither of these things. If any human approaches it with the idea that because Jahweh is the God of fertility our lasciviousness is going to be authorized or that the Selectiveness and Vicariousness of God’s method will excuse us for imitating (as “Heroes,” “Supermen” or social parasites) the lover Selectiveness and Vicariousness of Nature, one will be stunned and repelled by the inflexible Christian demand for chastity, humility, mercy and justice. On the other hand, if we come to it regarding the death which precedes every re-birth, or the fact of inequality, or our dependence on others and their dependence on us, as the mere odious necessities of an evil cosmos, and hoping to be delivered into transparent and “enlightened” spirituality where all these things just vanish, we shall be equally disappointed. #RandolphHarris 2 of 21
We shall be told that, in one sense, and despite enormous differences, it is “the same all the way up”; that hierarchical inequality, the need for self surrender, the willing sacrifice of self to others, and the thankful and loving (but unashamed) acceptance of others’ sacrifice to us, hold say in the realm beyond Nature. It is indeed only love that makes the difference: all those very same principles which are evil in the World of selfishness and necessity are good in the World of love and understanding. This, as we accept this doctrine of the higher World, we make new discoveries about the lower World. It is from that hill that we first really understand the landscape of this valley. Here, at last, we find (as we do not find either in the Nature-religions or in the religions that deny Nature) a real illumination: Nature is being lit up by a light from beyond Nature. Someone is speaking who knows more about her than can be known from inside her. Throughout this doctrine it is, of course, implied that Nature is infected with evil. Those great key-principles which exists as modes of goodness in the Divine Life, take on, in her operations, not merely a less perfect form (that we should, on any view, expect) but forms which I have been driven to describe as morbid or depraved. And this depravity could not be totally removed without the drastic re-making of Nature. Complete human virtue could indeed banish from human life all the evils that now arise in it from Vicariousness and Selectiveness and retain only the good: but the wastefulness and painfulness of non-human Nature would remain—and would, of course, continue to infect human life in the form of disease. #RandolphHarris 3 of 21
And destiny which Christianity promises to man clearly involves a “redemption” or “re-making” of Nature which could not stop at Man, or even at this planet. We are told that “the whole creation” is in travail, and that Man’s re-birth will be the signal for hers. This gives rise to several problems, the discussion of which puts that whole doctrine of the Incarnation in a clearer light. In the first place, we ask how the Nature created by a good God comes to be in this condition? By which question we may mean either how she comes to be imperfect—to leave “room for improvement” as the schoolmaster says in their reports—or else, how she comes to be positively depraved. If we ask the question in the first sense, the Christian answer (I think) is that God, from the first, created her such as to reach her perfection by a process in time. He made an Earth at first “without form and void” and brought it by degrees to its perfection. In this, as elsewhere, we see the familiar pattern—descent from God to the formless Earth and re-ascent from the formless to the finished. In that sense a certain degree of “evolutionism” or “developmentalism” is inherent in Christianity. So much for Nature’s imperfection; her positive depravity calls for a very different explanation. According to the Christians this is all due to sin: the sin both of men and of powerful, non-human beings, supernatural but created. The unpopularity of this doctrine arises from the widespread Naturalism of our age—the belief that nothing but Nature exists and that if anything else did she is protected from it by a Maginot Line—and will disappear as this error is corrected. #RandolphHarris 4 of 21
To be sure, the morbid inquisitiveness about such beings which led our ancestors to a pseudo-science of Demonology, is to be sternly discouraged: our attitude should be that of the sensible citizen in wartime who disbelieves nearly every particular story. We must limit ourselves to the general statement that beings in a different, and higher, “Nature” which is partially interlocked with ours have, like men, fallen and have tampered with things inside our frontier. The doctrine, besides proving itself fruitful of good in each humans’ spiritual life, helps to protect us from shallowly optimistic or pessimistic views of Nature. To call her either “good” or “evil” is boys’ philosophy. We find ourselves in a World of transporting pleasures, ravishing beauties, and tantalizing possibilities, but all constantly being destroyed, all coming to nothing. Nature has all the air of a good thing spoiled. The sin, both of men and angels, was rendered possible by the fact that God gave them free will: this surrendering a portion of His omnipotence (it is again a deathlike or descending movement) because He saw that from a World of free creatures, even though they fell, He could work out (and this is the re-ascent) a deeper happiness and a fuller splendour than any World of automata would admit. And God said, it is very good. “Male and female He created them…God saw that he had made, and indeed, it was very good,” reports Genesis 1.27-28, 31. One of the toughest issues that Christians wrestle with is deciding how they should feel about their own sexuality. Perhaps they have absorbed the idea that Christianity is anti-sexual, that Jesus would not be pleased with their feelings dealing with pleasures of the flesh, that God is not eager for them to experience pleasure, that the Bible is a book of “thou shalt nots.” Believing such, yet also feeling heir pulsating urges of the flesh and bombarded with cultural models and messages advocating uninhibited expression of pleasures of the flesh, they may feel confused, tense, guilty, or frightened. #RandolphHarris 5 of 21
What, then, is a Christian view of sexuality, and how does this compare with the view of sexuality found in academic and popular psychology? Some Christians have indeed talked as if Christianity views pleasures of the flesh or desire or the body as bad—as something to be ashamed of. (In the Library of Congress’s classification of religious books, the subcategory of “sex” comes just after “sin.”) Actually, as we noted, Christianity affirms that body. The Bible teaches that the created material World is good, that human nature is a mind-body unity, and that some kind of body will be given us at the resurrection as an essential ingredient of our everlasting happiness. In the biblical utopia of Eden, man and woman were refreshingly accepting of their bodies: they “were both unclothed, and were not ashamed,” and delighted in cleaving to each other “as one flesh.” In the Old Testament, this attitude that pleasures of the flesh is a gift in which we can rejoice is celebrated in the Song of Solomon as the erotic longings of lovers for each other are reciprocated openly. “I am sick with Love…O that his left hand were under my head, and that his right hand embraced me!” declares the bride-to-be. “You are stately as a palm tree, and your breasts are like its clusters. I say I will climb the palm tree and lay hold of its branches,” replies her ardent lover. In this biblical view, the significance of intimacy dealing with pleasures of the flesh is not diminished but expanded. Play dealing with pleasures of the flesh is an adult recreational activity and much more. The mutual self-exposure and cleaving of activity involving pleasures of the flesh arise from and satisfy the married adult’s need for intimate communion with a loved one. #RandolphHarris 6 of 21
To have intercourse is, in the Hebrew language, “to know” one’s partner in an especially intimate way. Behaviour dealing with pleasures of the flesh is therefore for married adult humans a social behaviour for procreation. Seen in this light, the biblical laws against promiscuity and adultery are not prohibitions against pleasure. Rather, they point us toward deeper pleasures—the delicious pleasures of affection, playfulness, intimacy, and climax within the lifelong unity and security that we call marriage. The husband and wife should give themselves to each other, advised St. Paul: “Do not deprive one another except perhaps by agreement for a set time, to devote yourselves to prayer, and then come together again.” God therefore cautions us not against pleasure, but against pleasures that are too weak, too unsatisfying for God’s favourite creatures, or that dehumanize God’s creatures. If the Bible advises restraint of our appetites, it is not because God forbids the pleasures we were created to enjoy, but because God has better things in store for us—a more fully human sexuality. God beckons us not to trade or cheapen the life-uniting, love-renewing experience of committed sexual love for a lesser and more temporary pleasure. Donald Joy (an aptly named Christian writer on this subject) likens biblical moral teachings to an owner’s manual on the care and maintenance of the human machines, provided by its maker to help us fulfill its potential. Of this much we can be sure: God is for us. If the human benefits of any activity outweigh the costs, then God is for it. And enjoying pleasures of the flesh—genuine, self-giving, tender, joyful, caring love—is most assuredly something that God is for. It is ennobling experience, shaking out for a few minutes or hours all that is base in a human, all that is mean, small-hearted, and narrow-minded. However, perhaps even more marvellous than that is the enormous contentment with which it fills one. Desire dissolves, and wit them the frustration, the anxiety, the hopelessness, and the expectancy that accompany them when they remain unfulfilled. #RandolphHarris 7 of 21
For a short time one loses oneself in this beautiful consciousness and lets go of the continual routine which makes up one’s usual day. One gains a healing rest in nerve, mind, feeling, and even body Such a glimpse comes of itself—“The wind bloweth where it listeth,” declared Jesus. These glimpses are encounters with divinity. There is a quality about them which separates them from all the other contacts and encounters of life. This Stillness is called, in the New Testament, “the peace which passeth understanding.” It is perhaps the chief feature of the glimpse. That memorable moment when one first opens the door of Consciousness will clear doubt, sanctify feeling, and balance the entire life. This new sense of being liberated from the confining measurements of one’s own ego, unimpeded by attachments and embroilments, carried beyond the vicious passions to inward equipoise, is unimaginably satisfying. In those moments of inward glory all one’s life expands. One’s intelligence advances and one’s goodness perceives new vistas of growth. Heaven opens out for a while in one’s emotional World. When one steps forth from the ego’s timed life the Overself’s liberating timelessness, the feeling of confinement falls away like a heavy cloak. One enjoys an unimagined exhilaration. Just as a blind person suddenly recovering one’s sight is carried away by a rush of joy, so the mystical neophyte suddenly recovering one’s spiritual consciousness is carried away by emotional ecstasy. However, just as in the course of time the former will become accustomed to the use of one’s sight and one’s joy will subside, so the latter will find one’s ecstasies subside and pass away. One’s endeavours to recapture them prove fruitless because it is in the nature of emotion that it should suffer a fall after it enjoys a rise. #RandolphHarris 8 of 21
This wonderful and exquisite feeling is really within oneself, only one transfers it unconsciously to the scenes and persons outside oneself and thus perceives goodness and beauty everywhere. If it begins quietly and unassumingly, it ends deeply—with the sensation of having entered briefly and memorably a higher World of being. If the intercourse of a man and a woman is the most intimate act in the lives of both, the conscious contact of a human being with the Overself is even more intimate still. One’s consciousness is lifted up into another World of being; one’s little self is in communication with the Overself; one’s perception of truth is instantly translated into power to live that truth. It is as if one climbed to a high observation post and from there saw what was before utterly unexpected and incredible. The peace of these moments, whether achieved by prayer or received by grace, yields a rich satisfying happiness. Why? Because all those thoughts, desires, attachments, and aversions which compose the ego fade away and leave consciousness free. In this experience one loses consciousness of one’s own personal identity, a state which begins with a kind of daze but passes into a kind of ecstasy. These first experiences of feeling raised to transfiguring peaks should not be expected to reproduce themselves often. They are necessarily rare sensations. Nor, when they do repeat themselves, an they come in precisely the same form and with the same initial intensity. Something of the rapturous emotional reaction is lost by repetition of this experience, but nothing of the wonder and awe is ever lost. At such moments one is filled wit a flowing inspiration, a splendid hope, a vivid understanding. Psychological views of sexuality are mixed. To some extent, they are congenial with the Christian idea that pleasures of the flesh is a sign and seal of a life union. Several researchers have reported that cohabitation and the number of premarital sexual partners is correlated with later marital unhappiness and divorce. #RandolphHarris 9 of 21
Even better established is the finding that marriage is linked with health and happiness: married people, especially married men, tend to live longer and experience greater life satisfaction than do unmarried people. Of course, such correlations do not prove that premarital chastity predisposes a happier marriage or that marriage produces health and happiness. (Maybe healthy, happy people are more likely to marry.) However, Christians can feel reassured that the data are consistent with biblical affirmations regarding pleasures of the flesh and marriage Christians concerned about the ideas on pleasures of the flesh being taught on television, in R-rated slasher movies, and in hard-core adult films can find justification for their concerns in recent research. In addition to the well-known studies on the effects of television violence on aggressive behavior, there are now many other studies indication the: Television is an unreal fictional World—in which acts of assault outnumber acts of affection and pleasures of the flesh relationships occur mostly outside of marriage—affects people’s perceptions of the real Word. Exposure to sexual violence makes many men and women more likely to believe that many people enjoy being physically forced against their will into intercourse and the physically forcing someone against their will into intercourse is not a serious crime, more willing to say that they might actually commit a sexual assault if they knew it would go unpunished, and more willing actually to aggress against others, especially those who are vulnerable, in laboratory settings. #RandolphHarris 10 of 21
Exposure to nonviolent sexually explicit films also can make physically forcing someone into intercourse against their will seem like a more trivial crime or just part of a blind date, friendship, relationship or marital obligation. Moreover, viewers tend to become more accepting of promiscuity, extramarital pleasures of the flesh, and a vulnerable person’s submission. They also often become more dissatisfied with their own les sizzling experiences with pleasures of the flesh and with their partner. Thus, if we value interpersonal sensitivity and sound human relationships in which pleasures of the flesh is a vital part, if we care to see our partners as equals rather than as servants to our imaginations about pleasures of the flesh, adult films have demonstrable effect that are somewhat less wonderful. So, in some ways, especially in its gathering of evidence, psychology has reinforced Christian ideas and concerns about sexuality (despite potentially skewed results from the biased sample of people who may volunteer to participate in surveys involving pleasures of the flesh and experiments related to pleasures of the flesh). Psychology has also contributed to enrichment of pleasures of the flesh in ways that Christians and non-Christians alike can appreciate—by helping us better understand the nature of things that motivate pleasures of the flesh, by refuting myths about homosexuality, by developing new techniques for treating dysfunctions dealing with pleasures of the flesh. Sexuality is, however, one of those topics about which alert readers will be sensitive to psychologists’ values and assumptions. Sometimes the values of the psychologist are obvious, as when the rational-emotive therapist Albert Ellis encourages “self-gratification…with or without long-term responsibilities” and argues, “Unequivocal and eternal fidelity to any interpersonal commitment, especially marriage, leads to harmful consequences. “More often the assumed values are subtle expressed, as when people are urged not to repress or suppress their “natural” urges for pleasures of the flesh, or when textbook authors, therapists, and advice columnists simply assume that intimate dealing with pleasures of the flesh outside of marriage is normal and healthy. #RandolphHarris 11 of 21
There is a concern that adolescents may interpret “value-free” sex education as meaning that sexual intercourse is for them a harmless recreational activity. Such a conclusion would be unfortunate because promiscuous recreational pleasures of the flesh pose certain psychological, social, health, and moral problems that must be faced realistically. Pleasures of the flesh are reserved for marriage. Chastity is sexual purity. Those who are caste are morally clean in their thoughts, words, and action. Chastity means not having any relations involving pleasures of the flesh before marriage. It also means complete fidelity to husband or wife during marriage. Physical intimate between husband and wife is beautiful and sacred. It is ordained of God for the creation of children and for the expression of love within marriage. In the World today, Satan has led many people to believe that pleasures of the flesh outside marriage is acceptable. However, in God’s sight, it is a serious sin. It is an abuse of the power He has given us to create life. The prophet Alma taught that sexual sins are more serious than any other sins expect murder and denying the Holy Ghost. “And this is not all, my son. Thou didst do that which was grievous unto me; for thou didst forsake the ministry, and did go over the land of Siron among the borders of the Lamanites, after the harlot Isabel. Yes, she did steal away the hearts of many; but this was no excuse for the hearts of many; but this was no excuse for thee, my son. Thou shouldest have tended to the ministry wherewith thou wast entrusted. Know ye not, my son, that these things are an abomination in the sight of the Lord; yea, most abominable above all sins,” reports Alma 39.3-5. #RandolphHarris 12 of 21
If participants love each other, sometimes they try to convince themselves that sexual relationships outside marriage are acceptable. This is not true. Breaking the law of chastity and encouraging someone else to do so is not an expression of love. People who love each other will never endanger one another’s happiness and safety in exchange for temporary personal pleasure. For years, man has tried to rush Nature’s process, but we must not or we risk being burned by the fires of creation. Labels describe behaviour, but they also subtly evaluate it. When sex researcher label sexually restrained individuals as “erotophobic” or having “high sex guilt,” they both describe and evaluate such tendencies. Whether we label sexual acts we do not practice as “perversions,” deviations,” or an “alternative sexual life style” says something about our underlying attitudes. The values of some psychologist can also be discerned form their reactions to the report of the Attorney General’s commission on pornography. The commission did not label “soft-core” magazines, such as Playboy, as pornographic, nor did it recommend outright censorship. However, not surprisingly, in view of the research on pornography’s effects, it did express strong concern about the growing availability of pornography and its effect on women’s vulnerability to sexual harassment and abuse. Although many feminist and religious leaders welcomes the report, the press preferred to quite contemptuous psychologists, such as Ted McIlvenna, president of the Institute for the Advanced Study of Sexuality: “Sexologist should universally view this report with disdain…It is totally an erotophoic report.” The problem, some of these psychologists complained, was that the commission took the psychological research on pornography too seriously—an interesting reversal from the more common complaint that government bodies have ignored research. #RandolphHarris 13 of 21
So, in welcoming sexual advice and sex research, Christians should be critically alert to psychologists’ values. On the other hand, we should also counter the nonbiblical idea that sexual relations are bad or that passion is something to be ashamed of. In the final analysis, we Christians are not so much opposed to promiscuity and pornography as we are for the tense closeness and the pleasureful sense of union that occurs when lifelong partners express and renew their love. In such a relationship, sexuality has the potential to become all that the Bible envisions its being: procreational and deeply affectional. Let us therefore remember: our sexuality is a gift that the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it, knowing that God said, it is very good. When people care for one another enough to keep the law of chastity, their love, trust, and commitment increase, resulting in greater happiness and unity. In contrast, relationships built on sexual immortality sour quickly. Those who engage in sexual immortality often feel fear, guilt, and shame. Bitterness, jealousy, and hatred soon replace any beneficial feelings that once existed in a relationship. Our Heavenly Father has given us the law of chastity for our protection. Obedience to this law is essential to personal peace and strength of character and to happiness in the home. Those who keep themselves sexually pure will avoid the spiritual and emotional damage that always comes from sharing physical intimacies with someone outside of marriage. “He that looketh on a woman to lust after her, or if any shall commit adultery in their hearts, they shall not have the Spirit, but shall deny the faith and shall fear,” reports Doctrine and Covenants 63.16. These warning apply to all people, whether they are married or single. #RandolphHarris 14 of 21
Those who keep themselves sexually pure will be sensitive to the Holy Ghost’s guidance, strength, comfort, and protection (that is why they always survive in horror movies), and will fulfill an important requirement for receiving a temple recommend and participating in temple ordinances. The nineteenth-century ideology of female domesticity suggested women were particularly physically and morally equipped to nurture. This is where the belief in the human being the “woman’s sphere came from,” and the result was a combination that gave moral support to mid-nineteenth-century middle-class suburbanization. Woman’s place was in the home, and that was ideally in the expanding suburbs. It was even reflected in the architecture. Building homes with kitchen windows that looked out into the backyard so woman could watch their children play as they cooked. Some homes even had walls of class along the dining room and living room, also as a way for women to watching their children while having Tupperware parties or afternoon tea and biscuits in the parlor while the darlings play in the backyard. On these story book house with a faceted tower and battened shutters, the crenellation parapet, projects and image of conjuring up archers and protecting the lord’s castle. For the home was to be a fortress and a refuge from the evils and vices of the city. These effervescent suburban dwellings were meant to evoke vernacular homes in western Europe, a nostalgia imported by American soldiers after World War I. The purpose of the architecture was to make one feel like one suddenly slipped into the Germanic forest of Sleeping Beauty, and are peeping at a quaint cottage in the clearing the side of a modest mansion. They were also a snapshot of an optimistic era when anything seemed possible, which no doubt appeals to people in these jaded times. Story book architect arose in the 16th century, people were fascinated by the Middle Ages. For instance, Marie Antoinette’s famous “farm” at Versailles was her interpretation of a medieval countryside hamlet. The 1869 castle Neuschwanstein was designed to look much older than it is. #RandolphHarris 15 of 21
Nonetheless, the storybook architecture reminded people of the good old times, when things were made by hand, which allowed people to pretend they had stepped back in time. The home, under the practical and moral guidance of the mother, was to be a sacred places in which family values could be promoted around the fireside. A middle-landscape between city and country that had trees and greenery but was neither to wild nor too urban was the proper Currier and Ives family environment. Some communities were even nonautomobile streets and had mandatory front porches and picket fences, to consciously recreate the social patterns of a Victorian small town. While the city was reviled as the center of infamy and anonymity, the suburb, with its open lawns and clean air, was to provide a healthful, natural, and moral atmosphere in which to raise children and teach values. In an era when activities were divided between men’s and women’s sphere, the city was Gomorrah—a World of men, factories, crowding, and vice. The suburban home, by contrast, was sacred space in which under the wife’s tutelage, men would be encouraged to become more civilized and children would be raised in health and virtue. The rearing of children and management of homes were not simply domestic virtues, they were activities essential for the survival of the Republic. The new constituency of middle-class non-farm women was an expanding group whose major responsibility was management of the home. Unlike farm wives, they had no responsibility for working with their husbands as partners operating a farm, nor did they have to labour long hours in the expanding urban factories and sweatshops, as did working-class women. #RandolphHarris 16 of 21
As a rebellion against the suggestion that women of the growing middle-class population had no real role, an ideology was designed that gave women a central place in national life. Surely it was a pernicious and mistaken idea, that the duties which tax a woman’s mind are petty, trivial, or unworthy of the highest grade of intellect and moral worth. Instead of allowing this feeling, every woman should imbibe from early youth, the impression, that she is training for the care of the most important, most difficult, and the most sacred and interesting duties that can possibly employ the highest intellect. Through their nurturing role, women can exercise an influence on national character that will transcend class and location. Would will provide the social order holding together American democracy. Proper management of the home and children is seen as the woman’s responsibility, and since this is so crucial, it makes her a fuller partner with her husband. Woman are neither men’s inferiors nor their equals, but their betters. Most men are still developing their strength and need o be guided and taught by women or their fathers, who are stronger. The suburban home, with its emphasis on shared domesticity, is the ideal setting in which to engage in this instruction. The nineteenth-century defining of the home’s interior as woman’s space has some very practical and beneficial consequences for home design. Kitchens, for example, were no longer simply basement rooms with open fireplaces. For the first time kitchens were designed taking into account efficiency, sanitary food preparation, and scientific housekeeping. Domestic engineering was to be utilized to create a professional and elevating influence for the housewives and servants who used the space. Clean surfaces, indoor plumbing, and proper light and ventilation were all part of the design. The result was a far more useful, comfortable, and rationally designed interior. This is not to say that most kitchens were poorly laid out and “obviously designed by a man. The nineteenth-century breakthrough was the acceptance of the view that kitchens were a specifically designed space. #RandolphHarris 17 of 21
Some people may need the kind of regression that is a relaxation of structures. Their central ego-functioning “coping” self is out of gear, else they would not be in therapy. The time may have come for them to relax and let go of their present personality—integration, so that a new arrangement may come about in which areas of their life may be integrated which have so far been denied a place. It is for this reason that therapists need to be careful to distinguish the circumstances in which it is right to focus on guilt-provoking emotions like rage or greed. Anyone in an authoritative or helping capacity is easily experienced as on the side of anti-libidinal forces. In the kind of regression and relaxation we are now considering, people need all the strength they can muster, in order to stay in touch and no evade their feelings of emptiness and desolation, and pain and terror, about which they already feel very guilty and ashamed. They must not be further weakened by having their moral and intellectual failings brought to their attention as a central issue. If, additionally, we consider that some people will need to recover these split-off regions where their bodily experiences and their (perhaps scant) memories of good times are mapped, the injunctions against promoting guilt and shame become even stronger. This is not the time to put people right—we have first to strengthen whatever strengths they already possess. Even the voice of another person can a times be disturbing. It appals me to think how much change I have prevented or delayed in patients in certain category by my personal need to interpret. If only we can wait, the patient arrives at understanding creatively and with immense joy, and I now enjoy this more than I used to enjoy the sense of having been clever. #RandolphHarris 18 of 21
When faced with error or delusion, or distress or disintegration, it is important not to be in too much of a hurry. People come to therapy unready for a direct encounter with their deeper anxieties. If they had been ready, they would have faced them and contained them. When, encouraged by an unwise therapist or friend, they are made to drop the defences they need before they are strong enough to integrate new insights, they will awake the terror which has always surrounded this split-off part, a terror which includes the terror of disintegration altogether. They will then tighten up more than ever, yet feel obscurely shamed and weakened by a sense of having failed to perform as expected. Too stark a confrontation with the deepest anxieties, especially if encouraged by someone on who a person is very dependent for a sense of security and connectedness, encourages the formation of a False Self, in order to please the therapist. Much has been written about the dangers of coaxing a patient into what looks like a recovery—the so-called “transference cure.” However, disturbed people may also be frightened into what looks like recovery, taking their therapists’ “interpretations” as implicit advice and acting rigidly on it in order to contain their disintegration. The corrosive hidden sense of hollowness and badness cannot be reached in this way. A principle might be enunciated, that in the False Self area of our analytic practice we find we make more headway by recognition of the practice we find we make more headways by recognition of the patient’s non-existence than by a long-continued working with the patient on the basis of ego-defence mechanisms. The patient’s False Self can collaborate indefinitely with the analyst in the analysis of defences, being so to speak on the analyst’s side in the game. This unrewarding work is only cut short profitably when the analyst can point to and specify an absence. It is not the aim of analysis to confront the patient with a now supposedly fully uncovered drive…The deepest level to be reached is not the drive…but the experience of the absence of the life-sustaining matrix. #RandolphHarris 19 of 21
To let people reach this terrifying level of experience in safety, therapists must allow themselves to a safe environment, facilitating, unobtrusive, unwounding. In general, it is a good thing when people are allowed space to make their own discoveries. However, if people are to make their own discoveries about what a thing can do or what it is good for, usually a period of hesitation and analyzation is necessary. It is an impingement when things are shoved at you before you know whether you want them and can use them. Those things feel alien—to turn away from them is a healthy reaction: to comply is the unhealthy response of the intimidated. So, we must allow for periods of hesitation which precede the moment when people start to make some new structure their own, truly theirs, not half the therapist’s. What is at issues here is how true new insight are to be integrated. They must not be integrated in a depersonalized form. “I-now” have to understand and hold and accept “me-then” and the situation as I experienced it then. If I am truly to feel “I discovered that,” “I made that,” “I did that,” even “I exist,” “I existed then,” “I am,” I have to be the first to be making the connections. When things are at their best, therapist and other arrive together at new meanings. Once there is a certain amount of strength—by which I mean at least the beginnings of a true-self core as an organizing principle—and once good rapport and understanding have been established, the many occasions on which such perfect timing does not happen may also serve a useful purpose. They enable people to start to come to terms with the fact that being perfectly understood (and the perfect capacity for always having perfect insight) never were and never will be their lot. The reality of other people, in all their goodness and badness and separateness is there by established, and hence also one’s own reality. And, if the experience of being held is ever to become a reality, this had to be established for it takes two for one to be held. #RandolphHarris 20 of 21
Ho. Wiyopeyata ouye power of the setting sun. We call on you. Please have pity on us that people may life. Wakinyan, thunder beings of the black west, we call on you. You are the source of both the power to live and of destruction, who ride the back of minne wichoni, the life-giving rains. For long years, the way of the people has been weak and there has been fear. Many have said that the red road would disappear and that the six powers of Wakan Tanka would turn their faces from us. It is true that many of the old ways have been lost. However, just as the life-giving rains restore the Earth after the drought, so your power will restore the Way and give it new life. We ask this not only for the red people but for all the people that they might live. In ignorance and carelessness, they have walked upon Ina Maka, our Mother. They did not understand that they are part of all beings, the four-legged, the winged, grandfather rock, the tree people, and our star brothers. Now the Earth and all our relations are crying out. They cry for the help of all people. A teaching which seeks the chief good for human beings, but ignores robust health and freedom from pain as a necessary part of the good, is an incomplete one. The old notion that mental healing is only useful to, and possible in, cases where the patient only imagines that one is sick, is outdated. A doctrine which denies the body’s existence while hypocritically trying to cure the body’s ailments, contradicts itself. In any case, the body remains there, a hard unavoidable fact which must be accepted in the end however much anyone believes one has thought it away. You upright who heard the voice of my song, may you merit to join this glorious throng; in Heavenly halls you shall meet them in time, if you hearken His Words, melodious, sublime. Exalted on high, for ever and ever, our Lord in glory and awe! We are His choice, then let us rejoice that He blessed us and gave us the Law. A true measure of a hero, is when one lays down one’s life, with the knowledge of those one saves, will never know. #RandolphHarris 21 of 21
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He Covenanted with the Devil Until He Should Arrive to the Age of Sixty Years!
He might be living, or he might be dead. There came no word of him, or from him. I was fond enough of her to be satisfied with this—he never disturbed us. While there were many individual acts of witchcraft in seventeenth-century Massachusetts, there was never an attempt or plot to make witchcraft a formal religion which would supplant Christianity. Yet we need not conclude that William Baker and his fellow-confessors were lying. It is probable that they, like the afflicted girls, were hysterics subject to hallucination. Certainly that is the conclusion to be drawn from Thomas Brattle’s opinion of them in his “Letter”: “my faith is strong concerning them that they are deluded, imposed upon, and under the influence of some evil spirit, and therefore unfit to be evidences either against themselves or anyone else.” Mr. Brattle wrote this in October 1692, when Massachusetts was retuning to stability. However, at the height of the excitement confessions like Mr. Baker’s seemed convincing enough. For one thing, they had a curious precision: he did not say there were about three hundred witches in the country but “about three hundred and sever”; he did not say there were about a hundred young wizards at the mustering of the Satanic militia but “about an hundred five.” However, what made these confessions most believable was that they offered a simple and comprehensive explanation for all the frightening events at Salem, at a time when explanations were not easy to discover. #RandolphHarris 1 of 16
There is also some testimony which remains ambiguous even today. Samuel Wardwell, for example, at his preliminary examination confessed himself a wizard. He had begun, he said, with white magic, “with telling of fortunes which sometimes came to pass” And, he said, “he used also when any creature came into his field to bid the Devil to take it, and it may be the Devil took advantage of him by that.” Eventually he had signed a pact: “He covenanted with the Evil until he should arrive to the age of sixty years.” He had renounced this confession at his trial, saying that he had made it, but that he had belied himself. He added that it was all one: “he knew he should die for it whether he owned it or no.” Ordinarily one would simply accept his renunciation. However, there are several puzzling circumstances here. For one thing, it was not all one whether he maintained or renounced his confession. People who maintained their confessions were not being brought to trail, much less executed. For another, at least a part of his confession was true; he had dabbled in the occult for some time, telling a great many fortunes, and boasting that he could make animals come to him when he wished. Finally, Mr. Wardwell was executed. However, in 1693, when the panic had subsided and the climate of opinion totally changed, there were three people who held to their confessions. Two of them were women long thought to be “senseless and ignorant creatures.” The third was Mr. Wardwell’s wife. All of these circumstances are puzzling and some of them are suspicious. However, on the other hand, there is no evidence to support his confessions of having made a pact. The only possible conclusion, it would seem, is that in this case the truth is not obtainable. #RandolphHarris 2 of 16
In a situation where the truth was so difficult to find the people of Massachusetts did what anybody else would do—they sought expert advice. In matters of witchcraft the experts were the clergy, and ultimately the advice was sought of the most distinguished clergymen in the colony. Indeed, at least one member of the trial court, Judge John Richards, asked the Reverend Cotton Mather to be present at the first trial. Reverend Mather was too ill to attend, but he did everything he could under the circumstances. He had suggested earlier (the exact date is not known) that the afflicted persons should be separated and an attempt made to cure them with prayer and fasting. He volunteered to take in as many as six of them himself. He had cured the Godwin children, and he might well have cured the Salem girls as well; certainly separation and private care would have been better treatment for hysterical fits than the excitements of a public courtroom. However, unfortunately Reverend Mather’s offer had not been accepted. Now, although he could not attend the first sitting of the court he wrote John Richards a letter offering him his opinions. In the first place, he expected that God would smile upon the labours of the court: “His people have been fasting and praying before Him for you direction, and yourselves are persons whose exemplary devotion disposeth you to such a dependence on the Wonderful Counselor, for his counsel in an affair this full of wonder, as He doth usually answers with the most favorable assistances. Yet he wanted to warn Mr. Richards. #RandolphHarris 3 of 16
Here is that warning: “And yet I most humbly beg you that in the management of the affair in your most worthy hands, you do not lay more stress upon pure specter testimony than it will bear. When you are satisfied or have good plain legal evidence that the Demons which molest our poor neighbours do indeed represent such and such people to the sufferers, though this be a presumption, yet I suppose you will not reckon it a conviction that the people so represented are witches to be immediately exterminated. It is very certain that the Devils have sometimes represented the shapes of persons not only innocent but very virtuous, though I believe that the just God then ordinarily provides a way for speedy vindication of the persons thus abused. Moreover, I do suspect that persons who have too much indulged themselves in malignant, envious, malicious ebullitions of their souls may unhappily expose themselves to the Judgment of being represented by Devils, of whom they never had any vision and with whom they have much less written any covenant. I would say this: if upon the bare supposal of a poor creature’s being represented by a specter too great a progress be made by the Authority in ruining a poor neighbour so represented, it may be that a door may be thereby opened for the Devils to obtain from the Courts in the Invisible World a license to proceed unto most hideous desolations upon the repute and repose of such as have yet been kept from the great transgression. If mankind have thus far once consented unto the credit of Diabolical representations, the Door is opened! Perhaps there are wise and good men that may be ready to style hum that shall advance this caution a witch advocate, but in the winding up this caution will certainly be wished for.” #RandolphHarris 4 of 16
Reverend Mather’s third point is that although he believes that Devils have sometime afflicted men on their own initiative, without being called up by witches, in this case he thinks that witches are involved: “there is cause enough to think that it is a horrible witchcraft which hath given rise to the troubles wherewith Salem Village is at this day harassed, and he indefatigable pains that are used for the tracing this witchcraft are to be thankfully accepted and applauded among all this people of God.” Fourth, he points out that although witchcraft is a spiritual matter and therefore “very much transacted upon the stage of imagination,” its effects are “dreadfully real” and therefore criminally punishable. “Our dear neighbours are most really tormented, really murdered, and really acquainted with hidden things which are afterwards proved plainly to have been realities.” In his fifth and six section he suggests what evidence may be used for convictions. The best evidence, he says, is “a credible confession…And I say a credible confession because even confession itself is sometimes not credible.” He was confident Mr. Richards’ ability to judge such matters: “a person of a sagacity many times thirty furlongs less than yours will easily perceive what confession may be credible and what may be the result of only a delirious brain or a discontented heart.” In obtaining confessions he was “far from urging the un-English method of torture,” but he thought that “cross and swift questions” might be used, along with anything else that “hath a tendency to put the witches into confusion” and this might bring them to confession. If the suspect had made threats or boasts which seemed to require occult power and which came true, this was valid evidence. So were such concrete matters as “puppets” (for image magic) and witch marks on the body. #RandolphHarris 5 of 16
Reverend Mather had never seen a witch mark on anyone, but he thought a surgeon ought to be able to tell if a bodily excrescence were magical. Finally, he was willing to countenance as experiments (but not as full evidence) some witch-finding techniques which themselves partook of the occult: setting a suspect to repeating the Lord’s Prayer; trying to wound a witch through striking her specter; putting the suspect to the water ordeal. Seventh, and finally, he recommended clemency for “come of the lesser criminals.” If such persons were not executed but “only scoured with lesser punishments, and also put upon some solemn, open, public, and explicit renunciation of the Devil” he thought it might discourage the Devils from afflicting those neighbourhoods in which they had been publicly renounced. Reverend Mather’s letter was written within the context of the Puritan method for arriving at the truth, and it can be fully understood only within that context. In dealing with the American Puritans we must remember always that they had rejected the formidable hierarchies of the Medieval and Renaissance church and state, with all their authority of tradition and inherited position. They had replaced these hierarchies with bodies of ministers and magistrates which, if they were not fully democratic in the twentieth-century sense of the word, were nevertheless elected. The clergyman was called to his position by the members of the church; the magistrate was elected by his constituency. Furthermore, the church had no central administration; every congregation was a law unto itself. The state did have a central administration—a governor and lieutenant-governor and their council—but this administration had nothing even faintly resembling the authority of a royal government. #RandolphHarris 6 of 16
My brother, the clergyman, looked over my shoulder before I was aware of him, and discovered that the volume which completely absorbed my attention was a collection of famous Trials, published in a new edition and in a popular form. He laid his finger on the Trial which I happened to be reading at the moment. I looked up at him; his face startled me. He had turned pale. His eyes were fixed on the open page of the book with an expression which puzzled and alarmed me. “My dear fellow,” I said, “what in the World is the matter with you?” He answered in an odd absent manner, still keeping his finger on the open page. “I had almost forgotten,” he said. “And this reminds me.” “Reminds you of what?” I asked. “You do not mean to say you know anything about the Trial?” “I know this,” he said. “The prisoner was guilty.” “Guilty?” I repeated. “Why, the man was acquitted by the jury, with full approval of the judge! What can you possibly mean?” “There are circumstances connected with that Trial,” my brother answered, “which were never communicated to the judge or the jury—which were never so much as hinted or whispered in court. I know them—of my own knowledge, by my own personal experience. They are very sad, very strange, very terrible. I have mentioned them to no mortal creature. I have done my best to forget them. You—quite innocently—have brought them back to my mind. They oppress, they distress me. I wish I had found you reading any book in your library, except that book!” Some people were opposed to prosecuting in any witchcraft case, on the grounds that witchcraft was a spiritual mater, a sin rather than a crime, and thus outside the domain of criminal law. However, the laws of every civilized nation provided the death penalty for witchcraft, and so did the Bible (Exodus xxii, 18: “Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live”). #RandolphHarris 7 of 16
Another opinion Reverend Mather deals with is that the troubles at Salem were caused by Devils, but not by witches. That is, the idea had already been advanced that the afflicted girls were possessed—infested by Demons—but not bewitched; that the Devils had acted on their own initiative rather than that of witches. This is the idea that was eventually adopted by virtually all of Massachusetts to explain the events at Salem, once it was recognized that most of those executed had been innocent. The basic question, as the seventeenth century understood it, was whether God would permit the Devil to assume the shape of an innocent person. Most authorities, and especially most Protestant authorities, believed that He would, and thus held, like Hamlet, that “the Devil hath power/ to assume a pleasing shape. However, Mr. Richards would not be capable of clearing anybody if he was going to accept the appearance of a person’s specter as conclusive proof of guilt. If such infernal testimony were accepted, nobody could be safe from accusation. Reverend Mather put in forcefully enough. “If mankind have thus far once consented unto the credit of Diabolical representations, the Door is opened!” However, Reverend Mather knew there were people at Salem so committed to the validity of spectral evidence that they were willing to call anyone who challenged it, including himself, a “witch advocate.” All he could do was warn such people that when matters were finished “this caution will certainly be wished for.” And in this he could not possibly have been more right. #RandolphHarris 8 of 16
Do you believe that the spirits of the dead can return to Earth, and show themselves to the living? Promise me this, that you will keep what I tell you a secret as long as I live. After my death I care little what happens. Let the story of my strange experience be added to the published experience of those other men who have seen what I have seen, and who believe what I believe. The World will not be the worse, and may be the better, for knowing one day what I am now about to trust to your ear alone. On a fine summer evening, many years since, I left my chambers in the Temple to meet a fellow-student, who had proposed to me a night’s amusement in the Winchester estate. I had taken my degree at Oxford. I had sadly disappointed my father by choosing the Law as my profession, in preference to the Church. At that time, to own the truth, I had no serious intention of following any special vocation. I simply wanted an excuse for enjoying the pleasures of an American life. The study of Law supplied me with that excuse. And I chose the Law as my profession accordingly. On reaching the place at which we had arranged to meet, I found that my friend had not kept his appointment. After waiting vainly for ten minutes, my patience gave way, and I went into the gardens by myself. I took two or three turns round the mansion, without discovering my fellow-student, and without seeing any other person with whom I happened to be acquainted at that time. For some reason which I cannot now remember, I was not in my usual good spirits that evening. #RandolphHarris 9 of 16
I saw a woman in the gardens, she was quiet. She invited me into the estate. Her face was saddened; her eyes were dropped to the ground, I begged her pardon. She rose to leave me. I was determined to not part with her in that way. I begged to be allowed to see the Winchester mansion. She hesitated. Then she took my arm. We went away together. A walk of half an hour brought us to the Winchester mansion, the estate was quite large. We went through the beautiful jeweled doors and took an elevator to the 4th floor. She said Mrs. Winchester had been waiting to meet me. She had been suffering from an affection of the throat; and she had a white silk handkerchief tied loosely round her neck. She wore a simple dress of black merino, with a black-silk apron over it. Her face was deadly pale; her fingers felt icily cold as they closed around my hand. “Promise me one thing,” I said, “before I go. While I live, I am your friend—if I am nothing more. If you are ever in trouble, promise me that you will let me know it.” She started, and drew back from me as if I had struck her with a sudden terror. “Strange!” she said, speaking to herself. “He feels as I feel. He is afraid of what may happen to me, in my life to come.” I attempted to reassure Mrs. Winchester. I tried to tell her what was indeed the truth—that I had only been thinking of the ordinary chances and chances of life, when I spoke. She paid no heed to me; she came back and put her hands on my shoulders, and thoughtfully and sadly looked up in my face. “My mind is not your mind in this matter,” she said. “I believe I shall die young, and die miserably. If I am right, have you interest enough still left in me to hear of it?” #RandolphHarris 10 of 16
She paused, for a moment, shuddering—and added these startling words: “You shall hear of it.” The tone of steady conviction in which she spoke alarmed and distressed me. My face showed her how deeply and how painfully I was affected. “There, there!” she said, returning to her natural manner; “don’t take what I say too seriously. A poor girl who has led a lonely life like mine thinks strangle and talks strangely—sometimes. Yes; I give you my promise. If I am ever in trouble, I will let you know it. God bless you—you have been very kind to me—goodbye!” A tear dropped on my face as she kissed me. The door closed between us. The dark gardens received me. It was raining heavily. I looked up at her window, through the drifting shower. The curtains were parted; she was standing in the gap, dimly lot by the lamp on the table behind her, waiting for our last look at each other. Slowly lifting her hand, she waved her farewell at the window, with the unsought native grace which had charmed me on the night when we first met. The curtains fell again—she disappeared—nothing was before me, nothing was round me, but the darkness and the night. In two years from that time, I had returned to the Church. My relatives exerted themselves; and my good fortune still befriended me. I was offered an opportunity of preaching in a church, made famous by the eloquence of one of the popular pulpit-orators of our time. In accepting the proposal, I felt naturally anxious to do my best, before the unusually large and unusually intelligence congregation which would be assembled to hear me. At the period of which I am now speaking, the Santa Clara Valley had been startled by the discovery of a terrible crime, perpetrated under circumstances of extreme provocation. #RandolphHarris 11 of 16
I chose this crime as the main subject for my sermon. Admitting that the best among us were frail mortal creatures subject to evil promptings and provocations like the worst among us, my object was to show how a Christian man may find his refuge from temptation in the safeguards of his religion. I dwelt minutely on the hardship of the Christian’s first struggle to resist the evil influence—on the help which one’s Christianity inexhaustibly held out o one in the worst relapses of the weaker and viler part of one’s nature—on the steady and certain gain which was the ultimate reward of one’s faith and one’s firmness—and on the blessed sense of peace and happiness which accompanied the final triumph. Preaching to this effect, with the fervent conviction which I really felt, I may say for myself, at least, that I did no discredit to the choice which had placed me in the pulpit. I held the attention of my congregation, from the first word to the last. On the conclusion of my sermon, my soul was literally shaken. Ordering my horse to be saddled, I rode instantly to the Winchester mansion. When I arrived, my mind was blank. I had no thoughts. I had no tears. The butler, Amon, greeted me. I guessed him to be some two or three years younger than myself. He was undeniably handsome; his manners of a gentleman—and yet, without knowing why, I felt a strong dislike to him the moment he opened the door. While waiting in the parlor, little by little, I became conscious of a chilly sensation slowly creeping through and through me to the bones. The warm balmy air of a summer night was abroad. It was the month of August. In the month of August, was it possibly that any living creature (in good health) could feel cold? It was not possible—and yet, the chilly sensation still crept through and through me to the bones. I looked up. I looked all round me. #RandolphHarris 12 of 16
I looked around me again. Yes: I saw it. With my own eyes I saw it. A pillar of white mist—between five and six feet high, as well as I could judge—was moving beside me on my left hand. The white colour of it was the white colour of the fog which one might see over the ocean. And the chill which had then crept through me to the cones was that chill that was creeping through me now. I was awed rather than frightened. There was one moment, and one only, when the fear came to me that my reason might be shaken. The doctrine that the Devil could appear in any shape did come to mind. The slow utterance of these words, repeated over and over again: “Mrs. Winchester is dead. Mrs. Winchester is dead.” But my will was still my own: I was able to control myself, to impose silence on my own muttering lips. And I walked through the mansion. And the pillar of mist went quietly with me. I sat down on the stairs looking at the pillar of mist, hovering opposite to me. It lengthened slowly, until it reached to the ceiling. As it lengthened, it grew bright and luminous. A time passed, and a shadowy appearance showed itself in the center of the light. Little by little, the shadowy appearance took the outline of human form. Soft brown eyes, tender and melancholy, looked at me through the unearthly light in the mist. The dead and the rest of the face boke next slowly on my view. Then the figure gradually revealed itself, moment by moment, downward and downward to the feet. She stood before me as I had last seen her, in her black-merino dress, with the black-silk apron, with white handkerchief tied loosely round her neck. She stood before me, in the gentle beauty that I remembered so well; and looked at me as she had looked when she gave me her last kiss on the cheek—when her tears had dropped on my hand. #RandolphHarris 13 of 16
I fell on my knees at the table. I stretched out my hands to her imploringly. I said, “Speak to me—O, once again speak to me, Sarah.” Her eyes rested on me with a divine compassion in them. She lifted her hand, and pointed to the photograph on the desk. It was the butler. I looked up at her again. She lifted her hand once more, and pointed to the handkerchief round her neck. As I looked at it, the fair white silk changed horribly in colour—the fair white silk became darkened and drenched in blood. A moment more—and the vision of her began to grow dim. By slow degrees, the figure, then the face, faded back into the shadowy appearance that I have first seen. The luminous inner light died out in the white mist. The mist itself dropped slowly downwards—floated a moment in airy circles on the floor—vanished. Nothing was before me but the familiar Lincrusta wallpaper, and the photograph lying face downwards on the desk. I went home. The next day, the newspapers reported the discovery of a murder in the Winchester mansion. Mrs. Winchester was the victim. She had been killed by a wound in the throat. The crime had been discovered between ten and eleven o’clock on the previous night. There is conclusive proof that the butler had been trafficking with the Devil. If spectral evidence was convincing to the magistrates, the ministers, and the people at large, it was a nightmare to the suspects. A violent quarrel took place between them. Lastly, that man, variously described by different witnesses, was seen leaving the door of her mansion on the night of the murder. The Law—advancing no further than this—may have discovered circumstances of suspicion, but no certainty. The Law, in default of direct evidence to convict the prisoner, may have rightly decided in letting him go free. #RandolphHarris 14 of 16
However, the Winchester Repeating Arms Company issued a statement redacting the news report which was later destroyed: “Protecting Mrs. Winchester’s legacy is, and always will be, our focus. For decades, we have battled behind the scenes, enduring shadowy tactics of deception with unauthorized statements and projects created to tarnish. We have always been betwixted as to why there is such a tenacity in causing more pain alongside what we already have to cope with for the rest of our lives. Now, this unscrupulous endeavor to release a statement without official proof or full accounting to the estate compels our hearts to express a word—forgiveness. Although we will continue to defend ourselves and her legacy lawfully and justly, we want to preempt the inevitable attacks on our company by all the individuals who have emerged from the shadows to leech off of Mrs. Winchester’s life’s work. Ultimately, we desire closure and a modicum of peace so we can facilitate the growth of the Winchester Estate and other creative projects that embody Mrs. Winchester’s true essence, which is to inspire and get people to think critically. We welcome and accept people of all creeds, races and cultures in the Universe and beyond.” The official statement reported that Mrs. Winchester passed away peacefully in her sleep on September 5, 1922, and work on the still uncompleted house stopped. I leave you to draw your own conclusions, but just days before I saw her, she looked no older than 22 years old. My own faith in the reality of the apparition is immovable. I say, and believe Mrs. Winchester is immortal, which would explain a lot. Take up the Trial again, and look at the circumstances that were revealed during the investigation in the court. I persist in believing that the man was guilty. I declare that, he and he alone did it. And now, you know why. #RandolphHarris 15 of 16
O thou wicket spirit Amon that obeyeth not, because I made a law and invoked the names of the glorious and ineffable God of Truth, the creator of all, and thou obeyest not the might sounds that I make: therefore I curse thee in the depth of Abandon to remain until the day of judgment in torment in fire and in sulphur without end, until thou appear before our will and obey my power. Come, therefore, in the 24th of a moment, before the circle in the triangle in this name and by this name of God, Adni, Great Spirit, give us hearts to understand; never to take from creation’s beauty more than we give; never to destroy wantonly for the furtherance of greed; never to deny to give our hands for the building of Earth’s beauty; never to take from her what we cannot use. Give us hearts to understand that to destroy Earth’s music is to create confusion; that to wreck her appearance is to build us to beauty; that to callously pollute her fragrance is to make a house of stench; that as we care for her she will care for us. Tzabaoth, Adonai, Amioran. Come! Come! for it is the Lord of Lords Adni, that stirreth thee up. I stir thee up, O thou fire, in him who is thy Creator and of all creatures. Torment, burn, destroy the spirit Amon always whose end cannot be, I judge thee in judgment and in extreme justice, O spirit Amon, because thou art he that obeyeth not my power and obeyth not that law which the Lord God made, and obeyeth not the Mighty Sounds and the Living Breath which I invoke, which I send: Come forth, I, who am the Servant of the Same Most High governor Lord God powerful, Iehovohe, I who am exalted in power and am might in his power above ye, O thou who comest not giving obedience and faith to him that liveth and trirumpheth. Therefore I say the judgment: I curse thee and destroy the name Amon and the seal Amon, which I have placed in this dwelling of poison, and I burn thee in fire whose end cannot be; and I cast thee down unto the seas of torment, out of which thou shalt not rise until thou come to me eyes: visit me in peace: be friendly before the circle in the triangle in the 24th of a moment in the likeness of a man not unto the terror of the sons of men the creatures or all things on the face of the Earth. Obey my power like reasoning creatures; obey the living breath, the laws which speak. #RandolphHarris 16 of 16
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The Kingdom of Heaven is Within Us and We are Within the Kingdom of Heaven!
Promoting diversity is the first step to not just “tolerance” but true inclusion and acceptance. Being unified in Christ does not mean we all must be the same. All people—across socioeconomic status, race, and nationality—are invited to come unto Christ and “partake of His goodness,” reports 2 Nephi 26.33. Through growing contact with, exposure to, and communication between people who are not like us in every way, we can learn how to relate to difference in a way where difference does not have to be a problem, a barrier, or a threat. And we may also see we have a lot in common with others. The demographics of America is changing and what we can do is accept that. Some people are not happy with the way the immigration system works, they think that others who are closer to the United States of America are given preference, while for them to immigrate to America takes much longer. We should not make anyone feel unwelcomed. It is up to our leaders to fix the immigration system so it is fair and legal. So, instead of making people feel unwanted, we can write to our leaders and share our concerns about the law being the golden standard in this country and how everyone deserves equal opportunity to immigrate to America. Nevertheless, even if both legal and undocumented immigration ceased immediately, the Hispanic population would be expected to continue to grow. This is primarily because of two factors. The populations age structure of the Hispanic population is far younger than that of the general population. The median age for Hispanics is twenty-six, while the median for non-Hispanics is thirty-three. This means a greater proportion of the Hispanic population is of child bearing age. #RandolphHarris 1 of 18
Second, Hispanic birthrates are approximately 50 percent higher than the United States of America averages. Thus, the expectation is that Hispanics will be an increasing proportion of the American population. There are currently 60.48 million in the United States of America. Approximately 47 percent of Hispanics are suburbanites. Many Hispanics are often well-to-do and live in affluent suburbs. Over half (55 percent) of all those of Asian background in the United States of America are suburbanites, making Asians slightly more suburban than the European American population. Asian Americans constitute the nation’s fastest-growing non-European American population. By 2040, the Asian population is expected to grow to 34.5 million. Economically, Asians Americans are American’s most affluent group of people in the United States of America with a median household income of $85,800.00. European Americans have a median household income of $65,777.00; Hispanic Americans have a median household income of $56,113.00; Africans Americans have median household income of $43,862.00. Geographically, the Asian population is concentrated on the west coast and Hawaii. One thing to note about Chinese Americans is that they tend to believe in the social advantages for children of more communal urban living. There exists a strong cultural belief in the superiority of urban environments. Early settlers in the United States of American were also rich in diversity. Most came from Europe. #RandolphHarris 2 of 18
The Swedes settled in Delaware, the Dutch founded Pennsylvania, French Huguenots sought freedom from religious persecution, Germans came escaping the military draft, the Pilgrims sought a separate religious society, and the Irish were seeking relief from famine and landlords. Out of all this diversity, a nation emerged. Leaders of intelligence and character, still a wonder to those of us who study their trials and achievements, were equal to the challenges of creating a constitution and a nation that would marry principles of freedom and the dignity and rights of humans to unparalleled economic opportunity and an expanding frontier. The diverse nation has endured much. I know there are times when we all feel that we are far from God’s heart; and the same from the Saints. Just know that God is not offended. Know also that good affection and sweet, of which you have a taste every now and then, is the effect of Present Grace; and in a sense it is a foretaste of the Heavenly Country. All of which is another way of saying, do not rely too much on such consolation; it comes and it goes. However, to respond with force to the Enemy’s incursions and to spurn he Devil’s clever interpretation of what is happening along he boundaries of the soul—both are outstanding signs of great virtue and merit decorations. Know that the Ancient Enemy tries his damanedest to impede desire in the good soul. He also tries to draw one away from a variety of particulars. For example, the cult of the Saints. The pious memory of My Passion. A practical checklist of sins. An honor guard for the heart. A firm purpose of progressing in Virtue. #RandolphHarris 3 of 18
Many evil thoughts the Enemy forces upon the devout, soul, trying to wear one down by the horror of it all and distracting one from praying and reading the Scriptures. Humble Confession displeases the Enemy; Holy Communion enrages him. Do not believe the Enemy. Ignore what he says. And mind where you walk; he has spread his traps along your usual paths. Thoughts may come your way, loathsome and lithesome, but do not blame them on yourself. Blame them on the Enemy, and save your best for him. Epithets and expletives like the following. Avaunt, Unclean Spirit! Blush, you matted clotted thug! It is you who fill my ears with such horrid unhearable stuff! “Depart from me, you seducer and traducer,” reports Matthew 4.10! You will not have any part of me! “The Lord will be with me, great warrior that He is” Jeremiah 20.11, and you will stand before Him in a state of complete confusion! I prefer to undergo every pain, even to die, than to think like you! Avast! Do not say it! Bite your tongue! (Mark 4.39). I will not listen to you any more! I mean it! Just try—one more time, one hundred more times!—to abuse me and see what happens! “O Lord, my illumination, my salvation, who shall I fear?” (Psalm 27.1). “O Lord, come to my help, come to my rescue!” (Psalm 19.14). “Do battle as though you were a good soldier,” wrote Paul to Timothy the second time (2.3). And if your fragility takes a tumble, make a second effort, a new start. Rearrange your pack. Reinforcements are coming; that is to say, additional grace is on the way. Watch your step. Complacency and pride are squirreled everywhere, blinding the unsuspecting as they advance. #RandolphHarris 4 of 18
The Proud are the first casualties, but for you Caution and Humility are the watchwords. All of which is another way of saying, proceed with care, but stay level with the ground. Against this popular idea that only a few are gifted stands the Christian idea of giftedness. Each individual of God is a unique part of the body of Christ, taught the apostle Paul. One person is, so to speak, a hand, another an ear, another a toe. All such parts are essential to the functioning of the whole body. Thus each of us is gifted. “Having gifts that different according to the grace given to us,” admonished Paul, “Let us use them.” In his letter to the early churches, Paul identified more than two dozen different gift, challenging his readers to consider which are theirs to give. Among them are the gifts of: Administration—to organize and direct people toward a goal; discernment—to distinguish truth from error, good from evil; encouragement—to support and strengthen people; faith—a special capacity for belief and trust in God’s power; giving—an especially generous, even self-sacrificial spirit; hospitality—to be comfortably warm and open with strangers; leadership—to set goals and inspire a vision; mercy—to be deeply compassionate with people who are hurting; prophecy—to proclaim God’s message with authority; service—to identify needs and give effective assistance; pastoring—to guide, nurture, and care for people; teaching—to communicate knowledge effectively. #RandolphHarris 5 of 18
Paul presumed that none of us possess all of these gifts but that all of us possess at least one or two of them. None of us are completed persons by ourselves. Rather, we find our completion as we exercise our gifts in harmony with one another. Thus not everyone in a local church needs to feel compelled to teach, but some—those who have the gifts of teaching—should. Others will likewise give their gifts of hospitality, administration, or mercy. The body of Christ will therefore thrive if each of us will take time to identify our gifts, to say no to requests that siphon our energy into areas in which we do not feel gifted, and to say yes or even to volunteer for tasks that do harness our gifts. Consider, too, what it would mean for a college to apply the Christian idea that we are gifted. Instead of evaluating all faculty by the same yardstick, much as schools assess giftedness with but one yardstick, a college might encourage its faculty to identify their gifts, to say no to activities in which they do not feel a special competence, and to say yes to those activities in which they do excel. Some might direct their energies more to teaching, some more to befriending an advising students, some more to research, some more to administration. If all such activities were seen as essential to the body life of the institution, then such diversity could be celebrated. If all faculty were held responsible for developing and using their gifts to the utmost, then all could esteem one another as they affirmed each others’ gifts. Excellence would be expected and rewarded, but excellence might involve different priorities for different people. #RandolphHarris 6 of 18
And consider finally what it would mean for schools to apply the Christian idea that all are gifted, even all children. One child might be encouraged to develop one’s artistic talent, another one’s mathematical wizardry, still others their capacity for leadership or music or mechanical tasks. There would be no need to pretend that everyone is equal or to teach children as if all were the same. Indeed, would not this Christian idea of giftedness encourage John Gardner’s vision of excellence, by providing opportunities and rewards such that individuals with every sort of gift “will realize their full potentialities, perform at their best and harbor no resentment toward any other level.” The biblical idea that different folks bear different gifts has found a home in psychological science. Intelligence comes in different packages, argue the psychologists Howard Gardner and Robert Sternberg. Mr. Gardner notes that brain damage may diminish one type of ability but not others. He observes that different abilities enabled our ancestors to cope with different environmental challenges (finding their way home, reading others’ emotions, solving problems). Indeed, contends Mr. Gardner and other intelligence researchers of today, we do not have an intelligence. Instead, we have multiple intelligences, each relatively independent of the others. In addition to the verbal intelligence assessed by standard intelligence tests, some folks are blessed with numerical intelligence musical intelligence, spatial intelligence, physical intelligence, or social intelligence. Albert Einstein, Georgia O’Keeffe, Sarah Winchester, Michael Jorden, and William Randolph Hearst are or were all brilliant in some domains but not in others. The psychologists Nancy Cantor and John Kihilstrom also distinguish academic intelligence from social intelligence—the know-how that enables us to comprehend and manage ourselves in social situations. We all have known people who could blast the top off the SAT yet self-destruct for lack of social sensitivity and judgment. Indeed, as Seymour Epstein and Petra Meier note, if academic aptitude signifies social competence, then why are academically smart people “not, by a wide margin, more effective in achieving better marriages, in successfully raising their children, and in achieving better mental and physical well-being?” #RandolphHarris 7 of 18
A critical part of social intelligence is what the psychologist Peter Salovey and John Mayer term emotional intelligence—the ability to perceive, express, understand, and manage emotions. Emotionally intelligent people are self-aware. They cope with life without letting their emotions get hijacked by dysfunctional depression, anxiety, or anger. In pursuit of long-term rewards, they can delay gratification rather than letting themselves be overtaken by impulses. Their empathy enables them to read others’ emotions and respond skillfully—knowing what to say to a grieving friend, when to encourage a colleague, how to manage conflicts. They are emotionally astute, and thus often more successful in careers, marriages, and parenting than are those academically smarter but emotionally denser. In extreme cases, some people display stunning gifs in one domain while utterly lacking them in another. Those with savant syndrome display some island of brilliance—say, in drawing, remembering music, or calculating numbers or dates—while scoring low on intelligence tests and being incapable of living independently. Others have suffered brain damage that destroys one dimension of intelligence but not another. Consider Elliot, a man with normal intelligence and memory, descried by the neuroscientist Antonio Damasio. Since removal of a brain tumor, Elliot has lived without emotion. “I never saw a tinge of emotion in my many hours of conversation with him,” Damasio reports, “no sadness, no impatience, no frustration.” Shown disturbing pictures of injured people, destroyed communities, and natural disasters, Elliot shows—and he realizes he feels—no emotion. #RandolphHarris 8 of 18
Like Mr. Spock of Star Trek, and the human appearing android Data of Star Trek: The Next Generation, Elliot knows but he cannot feel. And since he lacked emotional signals, Elliot’s social intelligence plummeted. Unable to intuitively adjust his behavior in response to others’ feelings, he lost his job. He went bankrupt. His marriage collapsed. He remarried and divorced again. At last report, he was dependent on custodial care from a sibling and a disability check. So, the New Testament idea that people come bearing different gifts challenges the popular idea that some are gifted, others not, but finds support in psychological research on the multidimensional nature of giftedness. “Having gifts that differ according to the grace given to us, let us use them.” We may have been unable to integrate certain experiences because they happened at a time when we lacked the strength to do so. In the present day, we are therefore “unconscious” that they happened—they happened before we were organized enough to be either conscious or unconscious. They happened in our pre-history, certainly in pre-conceptual history, when we did not have a structure strong enough to hold in one frame the knowledge of both acceptable and unacceptable aspects of existence. The question is, are we now strong enough to do so? The idea that the strength to integrate is not always available, and that something more is required than bringing into consciousness what has been kept unconscious, has interested psychoanalysts and psychotherapists increasingly in recent decades. With some people—melancholics and obsessionals, one can always count on a reliable and intelligent ego that is able to take in words and then allow them to influence itself. The ego is able to perform what Dr. Freud called “working through.” Such people are strong enough already. They have a coherent self; they have reasonably well-developed ego-functions; their trouble is that they have repressed (by means of horizontal “lids”) things that were unacceptable to their imagery of themselves or of the World. #RandolphHarris 9 of 18
If the need therapy, they need help mainly in talking about, accepting, and recognizing what they are doing and saying, until they are able to recognize themselves—the hitherto unconscious bits included. However, other people find it hard or impossible to reflect on themselves and their World, but because they cannot accept this or that, but because the excluded feelings really do not belong to the self that is judging whether to accept them or not: there have been vertical splits. These are splits which weaken the structure of the personality—a person’s strength depends on the existence of organizing and integrating processes. These need not be too tremendously powerful or consistent, but they do need to be sufficient no o leave out great areas of experience. To put this the other way round, the strength of a person’s personality depends on having a sufficiently integrated structure to be able to see life as it is without too much distortion or denial. A person with too many splits—a person who really lacks integration—does not have a reliable and intelligent ego that is able to take in words and allow them to influence itself. An infantile ego has been rejected and repressed. It remains therefore undeveloped and weak, and deep maturing comes to a standstill. Such strength also requires “indwelling”—the sense of being based in one’s body. People dwelling in their body know what feels good and what feels bad, and can seek the former and avoid the latter without having to think about it. On the other hand, a split between body and mind erodes one’s sense of being. #RandolphHarris 10 of 18
There are no fears worse or deeper than those which arise out of having to cope with life when one feels that one just is not a real person at all. Without such strength, we do not have the integrity to live life as it is without distorting or denying—we dread and resist the possibility of re-experiencing the deep feelings which were too unacceptable to be integrated when we first experienced them. If our integrative processes are not strong enough, we need help to gain strength first, so that we can bear the process of integration. The first task, then, is to become strong enough. And what is “strong enough”? I intend it to mean the possession of enough well-being and self-esteem to be able to accept (integrate) and live with out own imperfections and those of the World. A person who lacks this strength, and whom luck has failed in other ways, may have to work with a psychotherapist until the time when the nuclear self is consolidated, and the talents and skills that are correlated to the nuclear self are revitalized. In what regions of the personality is strength to be found? We do not yet understand perfectly just what it is, when a therapist works with people with this kind of weakness, that helps them get stronger. However, it is clear that the processes involved do not take place in the three-person region of classical psycho-analysis, the area in which Oedipal relationships find a place and in which feelings (instinctual ones in the view of classical psycho-analytic theory) are in conflict with considerations of good sense or good conduct. The area of the Oedipus conflict is characterized by the presence of all least two objects, apart from the person. The area of the Basic Fault is characterized by a very peculiar exclusively two-person relationship. A third area is characterized by the fact that there are no external objects in it. Here people are on their own and their main concern is to produce something out of themselves; this something to be produced may be an object, but is not necessarily so. I propose to call this the level or area of creation. The most often-discussed example is of course artistic creation, but other phenomena belong to the same group, among them mathematics and philosophy, gaining insight, understanding somebody or something. #RandolphHarris 11 of 18
At this third level, there is no “other.” It is the level at which something or someone is being recognized and given shape and form for the first time. Something or someone is in the process of becoming conceptualized, but is not yet clearly “mapped.” At this level, although there are no others, there is a sense of connectedness. We know that there are no “objects” in the regions where certain takes place, butt we know also that for some of the time at least, the person is not entirely alone there. Here we are reaching for the concept of ego-relatedness. Our idea of what does on at these levels is still very tentative, but is still uncertain. However, we do now have more hints. The therapeutic side of meditation practices can be competently studied only by one who both practices them form the inside as well as observes them from the outside. The scientists and the medical physician, who can do the later only, are not even half-competent: they miss the essence of the subject in missing the power at work. Their intellects may logically theorize or imaginatively guess at it but that does not bring them into touch with the reality of it. The very scepticism with which they usually confront the record of these unorthodox healings and often reject their genuineness, unfits them for such investigation. The proper openness of mind, neither credulous nor cynical, is hard for them to establish. Spiritual healing must be separated from mental healing, as the former workers by a descent of divine grace but the latter by a power-concentration of mind. #RandolphHarris 12 of 18
A cure in the firs case will not only be permanent but also affect the character of the patient, whereas in the second case a cure may be and often if (especially when hypnotic methods are used) transient whilst the character remains untouched. A genuine spiritual healing of the physical body will always produce spiritual results. That is, it will produce an inner change in the character of the person healed. However, when this happens in means that some kind of wrong thinking or wrong feeling is the real cause of one’s physical sickness. For instance, thoughts of bitterness, resentment, criticism, and condemnation strongly held and long sustained against other persons can and very often do easily produce liver trouble. So long as that kind of thinking and feeling continues, so long will the liver trouble continue. The proper way to heal it, therefore, is to get at the psychological seat of trouble—that is, effect inner change. Where spiritual healing treatment influences a human to give up the wrong thinking, so it leaves one utterly, the physical effects of the change may show themselves suddenly and miraculously or slowly and gradually. Although they show themselves as a cure of a physical malady, note that it first began as a mental malady or as an emotional malady. And if the inner change is an enduring one, the following cure will be an enduring one too. This is the only type of healing which can be truly called spiritual. All other kinds of so-called spiritual healing are merely mental healing or hypnotic healing, and the cure can never be equal in quality or durability. #RandolphHarris 13 of 18
Quite often, they have only temporary results and the sickness reappears because the inner human has been left with all one’s psychological neuroses uncured. Mental healing and hypnotic healing are no, strictly speaking, healing at all. They are suppression of symptoms, and at the cost of retention of the hidden causes of these symptoms. In the cause of mental healing there is not necessarily any change at all in the character of the patient. One’s angers, one’s hostilities, or one’s resentments may remain as active as before. One’s cure simply illustrates the power of mind over body—one’s own or someone else’s mind. It is achieved by faith or concentration or suggestion. However, in the case of spiritual healing there is an inner change along with bodily cure. Why is it wrong to seek the cure of physical ailments by nonphysical remedies, and particularly by spiritual ones? To argue that the inner healing of bad character is more important—which may be granted-does not do away with the necessity of the outer healing. It is not the true spiritual healing if it laves the character and outlook untouched, unimproved. There are other kinds of healing which may relieve or cure one kind of ailment while leaving the person still open to make one’s fate later bring on another kind of ailment. One who sees in everything only matter and beyond it only nothing, who looks to physics and physiology for sufficient explanation of our existence and chemical actions for sufficient explanation of our loftiest emotions, will be sceptical of mentalists principles and distrustful of spiritual healing. #RandolphHarris 14 of 18
So much noxious material is eliminated through the ski that three processes of cleansing are needed to counteract it. First, the warm bath. Many persons are not tough enough to stand the weakening effects of a too hot bath. It is better to be prudent and be satisfied with a moderately warm one. Second, the friction rub. Third, the frequent change of underclothing. It is a physiological fact that a part of this material can be re-absorbed into the body if these processes are neglected. When that happens, this rancid and poisonous stuff will open the way to disease. The friction rub may be done with a small coarse rough face cloth or with a loofah sponge. The entire body should be vigorously scrubbed, but especially the feet. A cool—not cold—shower at the end will close the pores and stimulate circulation. Some religions consider a twice-daily shower bath to be an essential part of spirituality. The moderns says that cleanliness is next to godliness. It is also recommended to keep the colon cleans and advisable to keep the breathing passages clear from mucous, especially the thick, gummy kind which adheres to the membranes. This can be done by gargling the throat and washing the nostrils and nasal passages with water which has been purified and slightly dissolved with salt and is comfortably lukewarm. If the eye muscles are overworked by too much desk work, regular resting at intervals during this work will enable them to recuperate their strength and efficiency. In this connection remember the advice given by my occultist that when using any eye drop medicine take care not to touch the eyes themselves with the eye cup or the dropper. #RandolphHarris 15 of 18
If one eye gets infected with, say, conjunctivitis in this way one avoids passing the infection to the other eye. The same care should be used with the small towel used for wiping the eyes after washing. Separate towels reserved for this purpose should be used or rather separate face cloths. As planets derive much more substance from air and water for their sustenance than they do from the Earth, it happens that when they rot they return to the Earth more than they have derived from it. Moreover, a forest determines the amount of rainwater by stopping vapors. Thus, in a wooded area that was preserved for a long time without being touched, the bed of Earth that serves for vegetation would increase considerably. However, since animals return to the soil less than they derive from it, and since humans take in huge quantities of wood for plants for fire an other uses, it follows that the bed of vegetative Earth of an inhabited country must always diminish and finally become like the terrain of Arabia Petraea, and like that of so many other provinces of the Old World (which in fact is the region that has been inhabited from the most ancient times), where only salt and sand are found. For the fixed salt of plants and animals remains, while all the other parts are volatized. To this can be added the factual proof based on the quantity of trees and plants of every sort, which filled almost all the uninhabited islands that have been discovered in the last few centuries, and on what history teaches us about the immense forests all over the Earth that had to be cut down to the degree that it was populated or civilized. #RandolphHarris 16 of 18
Furthermore, if there is kind of a vegetation that can make up for the loss of vegetative matter which was occasioned by animals, according to M. de Buffon’s reasoning, it is above all the wooded areas, where the treetops and the leaves gather and appropriate more water and vapor than do other plants. Second, the destruction of the soil, that is, the loss of the substance that is appropriate for vegetation, should accelerate in proporion as the Earth is more cultivated and as the more industrious inhabitant consumer in greater abundance its products of every sort. My third and most important remark is that the fruits of trees supply animals with more abundant nourishment than is possible for other forms of vegetation: an experiment I made myself, by comparing the products of two land masses of equal size and quality, the one covered with chestnut trees and the other sown with wheat. Among the quadrupeds, the two most universal distinguishing traits of voracious species are derived, on the one hand, from the shape of teeth, and, on the other, from the conformation of the intestines. Animals that live solely on vegetation have al flat teeth, like the horse, ox, sheep and hare, but voracious animals have pointed teeth, like the cat, dog, wolf and fox. And as for the intestines, the frugivorous ones have some, such as the colon, which are not found in voracious animals. It appears therefore that humans, having teeth and intestines like frugivorous animals, should naturally be placed in that class. #RandolphHarris 17 of 18
And not only do anatomical observations confirm this opinion, but the monuments of antiquity are also very favorable to it. “Dicaearcuhs,” says St. Jerome, “relates in his books on Greek antiquities that under the reign of Saturn, when the Earth was still fertile by itself, no humans ate flesh, but that all lived on fruits and vegetables that grew naturally.” [This opinion can also be supported by the reports of several modern travelers. Francois Correal, among others, testifies that the majority of inhabitants of the Lucayes, whom the Spaniards transported to the islands of Cuba, Santo Domingo, and elsewhere, died from having eaten flesh.] From this, one can see that I am neglecting several advantageous considerations that I could turn to account. For since prey is nearly the exclusive subject of fighting among carnivorous animals, and since frugivorous animals live among themselves in continual peace, if the human species were of this later genus, it is clear that it would have had a much easier time subsisting in the state of nature, and much less need and occasion to leave it. Brother of the sea, look at the stars, look at the deep blue, and set the World free. Our right is to live and be free; freedom will not come from outside. It is only in ourselves united. How fairer wilt thou be to sight, if thou with us in faith unite; Thy favor we shall always seek. However, American’s sons with wisdom speak: “O ye, who are wise in your own eyes, how can your trumpery at all compare with our great share when God proclaims us free.” And shines on us in glorious light, while you are wrapped in gloom of night? His glory then will shine and gleam—Almightly God, over all Supreme! Almighty God, who are mother and father to us all, look upon your planet Earth divided: Help us to know that we are all your children; that all nations belong to one great family, and all of our religions lead to you. Please multiply our prayers in every land until the whole Earth becomes your congregation, united in your love. Please sustain our vision of a peaceful future and please give us strength to work unceasingly to make that vision real. Amen. #RandolphHarris 18 of 18
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At His Preliminary Examination He Testified that He Has Been in the Snare of the Devil!
A weary and secretive darkness crept into her face, a distraction, as though her soul had traveled out of doors towards Heaven, and the she looked down sadly. When I came in sight of the house where John Procter live, there was a very hard blow struck on my breast which caused great pain in my stomach and amazement in my head. However, I did see no person near me, only my wife behind me on the same horse. And when I cam against said Mr. Procter’s house, according to my understanding, I did see John Procter and his wife at the said house. [They were, remember, in prison at this time.] Mr. Procter himself looked out of the window and his wife did stand just without the door. I told my wife of it, and she did look that way and could see nothing but a little maid at the door. I saw no maid there, but Mr. Procter’s wife according to my understanding did stand at the door. Afterwards, about half a mile from the aforesaid house, I was taken speechless for some short time. My wife did ask me several questions and desired me that if I could not speak I should hold up my hand, which I did. And immediately I could speak as well as ever. [Notice again that the fit was broken when the subject is able to move or speak.] And when we came to the way where Salem Road cometh into Ispwich Road, here I received another blow on my breast which caused much pain, so that I could not sit on my horse. And when I did alight off my horse, to my understanding I saw a woman coming towards us about sixteen or twenty pole from us, but did not know who it was. My wife could not see her. #RandolphHarris 1 of 16
When I did get up on my horse again, to my understanding there stood a cow where I saw the woman. [Witches were thought capable of transforming their shapes.] After that we went to Boston without any further molestation, but after I came home again to Newbury I was pinched and nipped by something invisible for some time. However, now through God’s goodness to me I am well again. That was testimony from Joseph Bailey of what he and his wife encountered. Testimony like this is careful and honest, and historians have been wrong in refusing to take it seriously. Mr. Baily was quite aware that he had been ill, and that the illness had created a difference between his perceptions and those of his wife. However, the fatal distinction between his understandings of the event and ours is that his culture led him to attribute his illness to witchcraft whereas ours permits us to attribute it to his fear of witchcraft. There are many similar instances of the specters of innocent people appearing to afflict the citizenry once they were suspected of witchcraft. One of the more interesting involves John Willard, who had at first been a deputy-constable employed in arresting persons who had been complained of. According to Robert Calef, an American author who wrote a book on the Salem Witch Trials of 1692-93, he became dissatisfied after being sent to arrest persons he believed innocent, and resigned his position. This immediately brought him under suspicion, and soon the afflicted girls were crying out against him. Shortly thereafter his grandfathers, Bray Wilkins, was ready for dinner when John Willard came into the house with my son Henry Wilkins, before I sat down, and said Mr. Willard to my apprehension looked after such a sort upon me as I never before discerned in any. #RandolphHarris 2 of 16
That is, Mr. Wilkins thought Mr. Willard had “overlooked” him—given him the evil eye. I did but step into the next room and I was presently taken so that I could not dine nor eat anything. I cannot express the misery I was in, for my water was suddenly stopped and I had no benefit of nature, but was like a man in a rock. And I told my wife immediately that I was afraid that Mr. Willard had done me wrong. My pain continuing and finding no relief my jealousy [id es, suspicion] continued. Mr. Lawson and others there were all amazed and knew not what to do for me. There was a woman accounted skillful [who] came hoping to help me, and after she had used means she asked me whether none of those evil persons had done me damage. I said I could not say they had but I was sore afraid they had. She answered, she did fear so too. As near as I remember I lay in this case three or four days at Boston, and afterwards, with the jeopardy of my life (as I though), I cam home. And then some of my friends coming to see me (and at this time John Willard was run away) one of the afflicted persons, Mercy Lewis, came in with them, and they asked whether she saw anything. She said, “Yes, they are looking for Jon Willard but here he is on his grandfather’s belly.” (And at that time I was in grievous pain in the small of my belly.) I continued so in grievous pain and my water much stopped till said Mr. Willard was in chains. And then as near as I can guess I have considerable ease. However, on the other hand, in the room of a stoppage I was vexed with a flowing of water so that it was hard to keep myself dry. #RandolphHarris 3 of 16
On the fifth [of] July last, talking with some friends about John Willard, some pleading his innocency and myself and some others arguing the contrary, within about one-quarter of an hour after that I was taken in the sorest distress and misery, my water being turned into real blood, or of a bloody color, and the old pain returned excessively as before, which continued for about twenty-four hours together. In this testimony, we come to understand the hysterical loss of appetite which was Mr. Wilkins’ first symptom we have seen before and shall see again. The inability to urinate we have seen in Mrs. Simms as a result of Manny Redd’s curse. However, there was clearly something organic as well as psychosomatic wrong with Bray Wilkins. The blood in the urine coupled with the extreme pain of relatively short duration suggests that it may have been a kidney stone. However, whatever it was, both Mr. Wilkins and the community at large were by this time ready to attribute it to witchcraft. William Baker’s confessions provide an excellent example that the Salem Witch Trials were carried in chiefly by the complaints and accusations of the afflicted and by the confessions of the accused, condemning themselves and others. Nothing is a first sight more surprising than the number of the confessors and the character of their confessions. There were about fifty of them, and the statements which they made far exceed in color and detail the simple statements of personal guilt that were necessary to save their lives. According to Mr. Baker, at his preliminary examination he testified that he has been in the snare of the Devil three years. #RandolphHarris 4 of 16
That the Devil first appeared to him like a black man, and he perceived he had a cloven foot; that the Devil demanded of him to give up himself soul and body unto him, which he promised to do. [The Devil promised in return to pay Mr. Baker’s debts and see that he lived comfortably. Mr. Baker signed the contract in blood.] Satan’s design was to set up his own worship, abolish all churches in the land (which some say politicians are currently doing), to fall next [id est, first] upon Salem and so go through the country. He saith the Devil promised that all his people should be equal, that there should be n day of resurrection or of judgment, and neither punishment nor shame for sin. That explains why people are trying to banish God and they church. They know they are bad people and believe they can avoid being held responsible for their crimes and sins by raising hell on Earth and raising the Devil. Mr. Baker said that the demonic “Grandess” had told him there were about “307 witches in the country” and he volunteered his opinion that all the persons arrested and imprisoned to date (August 29, 1692) were guilty. However, an oral confession was not enough for him. Mr. Hale prints another “which he wore himself in prison, and sent to the magistrate to confirm his former confession.” However, an oral confession was not enough for him. Mr. Hale prints another “which he wrote himself in prison, and sent to the magistrates to confirm his former confession.” Here is his testimony: God having called me to confess my sins and apostasy in that fall in giving the Devil advantage over me, appearing to me like a Black, in the evening, to set my hand to his book, as I have owned to my shame. He told me that I should not want [in] so doing. At Salem Village, there being a little off the Meeting-House about an hundred five blades [id est, young bucks], some with rapiers by their sides, which was called (and might be more for ought I know) by Bishop and Burroughs. #RandolphHarris 5 of 16
And the trumpet sounded, and [there was] bread and beverage which they called Sacrament, but I had none, being carried over all on a stick, never being at any other meeting. I being at carting a Saturday last, all the day of hay and English corn, the Devil brought my shape to Salem and did afflict Martha Sprague and Rose Foster by clitching my hand. And a Sabbath day my shape afflicted Abigail Martin. Elizabeth Johnson and Abigail Faulkner have been my enticers to this great abomination, as one have owned and charged her to her sister with the same. And the design was to destroy Salem Village, and to begin at the minister’s house, and to destroy the Church of God, and to set up Satan’s kingdom, and then all will be well. And now I hope God in some measure has made me something sensible of my sin and apostasy, begging pardon of God, and of the Honorable Magistrates and all God’s People, hoping and promising by the help of God to set to my heart and hand to do what in me leith to destroy such wicked worship, humbly begging the prayers of all God’s People for me [that] I may walk humbly under this great affliction and that I may procure to myself he sure mercies of David and the blessing of Abraham. Such testimony sheds light on the centuries long plot of some to remove God from America. Pray I must, my Lordly Friend, but what should I pray? Bless You, Heavenly Father, Father of my Lord Jesus Christ, for remembering me, pauper that I am? O Father of mercies and God of consolations, as Paul began his Second Letter to the Corinthians (1.3), I give You thanks, unworthy as I am of Your every consolation? #RandolphHarris 6 of 16
I bless You always, and I glorify You, with You Only Begotten Son and the Holy Spirit, the Paraclete, for ever and ever? O Lord God, my Holy Loving Friend, when You come into my heart, You make my blood dance? “You are my glory,” thrummed the Psalmist (3.3) and “the exaltation of my heart” (119.111)? You are my hope and—thrumming again—“my refuge in the day of my tribulation” (59.16)? I ask again, O Lord, what should I pray? At this point in my life, I find myself not only a little long in the tooth, but also a little short in the hoof; that is to say, a little short of breath in the pursuit of Love and Virtue. I have no one to turn to. You are the only One who can help me. Do not be surprised, then, when I ask You to visit me more often. I need to know more about the holy disciplines. Will they free my body from the itch, cure my heart from the worm? Cleanse me on the inside, scrub me on the outside, and I will be ready enough to love, strong enough to suffer, stable enough to preserve. And you say that these blood drinkers are worshiped in the hills. It was the spring of 1880, I had lost my way, and could not tell how far I might be from my destination. I was very tired and had a heavy knapsack on my shoulders, packed with stones and relics from the ruins of the Old Pelasgic fortress which I had been exploring, besides a number of old coins and a lamp or two which I had purchased there. I could discern no signs of any human habitation, and the hills, covered with wood, seemed to shut me in on every side. I was beginning to think seriously of looking out for some sheltered spot under a thicket in which to pass the night. I was so excited to get back to the Winchester estate. The mansion was a large rambling place, and was tolerably comfortable within. My room was situated at the end of a long passage; there were two rooms on the right side of this passage, and a window on the left, which looked out upon the garden. #RandolphHarris 7 of 16
Having taken a survey of the outside of the house while getting some fresh air after dinner, when the moon was up, I remembered exactly the position of my chamber—the end room of a long narrow wing, projecting at right angles from the main building, with which it was connected only by the passage and two side rooms already mentioned. Please to bear this description carefully in mind while I proceed. Before getting into bed, I drove into the floor close to the door a small gimlet which formed part of a complicated Winchester pocket-knife which I always carried with me, so that it would be impossible for any one to enter the room without my knowledge; there was a lock to the door, but the key would not turn in it; there was also a bolt, but it would not enter the hole intended for it, the door having sunk apparently from its proper level. I satisfied, myself, however, that the door was securely fastened by my gimlet, and soon fell asleep. How can I describe the strange and horrible sensation which oppressed me as I woke out of my slumber? I had been sleeping soundly, and before I quite recovered consciousness I had instinctively risen from my pillow, and was crouching forward, my knees drawn up, my hands clasped before my face, and my whole frame quivering with horror. I saw nothing, felt nothing; but a sound was ringing in my ears which seemed to make my blood run cold. I could not have supposed it possible that any mere sound, whatever might be its nature, could have produced such a revulsion of feeling or inspired such intense horror as I then experienced. It was not a cry of terror that I heard—that would have roused me to action—nor the moaning of one in pain—that would have distressed me, and called forth sympathy rather than aversion. #RandolphHarris 8 of 16
True, it was like the groaning of one in anguish and despair, but not like any mortal voice: it seemed too dreadful, too intense, for human utterance. The sound had begun while I was fast asleep—close to the head of my bed—close to my very pillow; it continued after I was wide awake—a long, hollow, protracted groan, making the midnight air reverberate, and then dying gradually away until it ceased entirely. It was some minutes before I could at all recover from the terrible impression which seemed to stop my breath and paralyse my limbs. At length I began to look about me, for the night was not entirely dark, and I could discern the outlines of the room and the several pieces of furniture in it. I then got out of bed, and called aloud, “Who is there? What is the matter? Is anyone ill?” I repeated these enquiries in Italian, German, and French, but there was none that answered. Fortunately I had some matches in my pocket and was able to light my candle. I then examined every part of the room carefully, and especially the wall at the head of my bed, sounding it with my knuckles; it was firm and solid there, as in all other places. I unfastened my door, and explored the passage and the two adjoining rooms, which were unoccupied and almost destitute of furniture; they had evidently not been used for some time. Search as I would, I could gain no clue to the mystery. Returning to my room I sat down upon the bed in great perplexity, and began to turn over in my mind whether it was possible I could have been deceived—whether the sounds which caused me such distress might be the offspring of some dream or nightmare; but to that conclusion I could not bring myself at all, much as I wished it, for the groaning had continued ringing in my ears long after I was wide away and conscious. #RandolphHarris 9 of 16
While I was thus reflecting, having neglected to close the door which was opposite to the side of my bed where I was sitting, I heard a soft footstep at a distance, and presently a light appeared at the further end of the passage. Then I saw the shadow of a man cast upon the opposite wall; it moved very slowly, and presently stopped. I saw the hand raised, as if making a sign to someone, an I knew from the fact of the shadow being thrown in advance that there must be a second person in the rear by whom the light was carried. After a short pause they seemed to retrace their steps, without my having had a glimpse of either of them, but only of the shadow which had come before and which followed them as they withdrew. It was then a little after one o’clock, and I concluded they were retiring late to rest, and anxious to avoid disturbing me, though I have since thought that it was the light from my room which caused their retreat. I felt half inclined to call to them, but I shrank, without knowing why, from making known what had disturbed me, and while I hesitated they were gone; so I fastened my door again, and resolved to sit up and watch a little longer by myself. However, now my candle was beginning to burn low, and I found myself in this dilemma: either I must extinguish it at once, or I should be left without the means of procuring a light in case I should be again disturbed. I regretted that I had not called for another candle while there were people yet moving in the house, but I could not do so now without making explanations; so I grasped my box of matches, put out my light, and lay down, not without a shudder, in the bed. #RandolphHarris 10 of 16
For an hour more I lay awake thinking over what had occurred, and by that time I had almost persuaded myself that I had nothing but my own morbid imagination to thank for the alarm which I had suffered. “It is an outer wall,” I said to myself; “they are all outer walls, and the house 9-inch-thick walls; it is impossible that sound could be heard through such a thickness. Besides, it seemed to be in my room, close to my ear. What an idiot I must be, to be excited an alarmed about nothing; I will think no more about it.” So I turned on my side, with a smile (rather a forced one) at my own foolishness, and composed myself to sleep. At that instant I heard, with more distinctness than I ever heard any other sound in my life, a gasp, a voiceless gasp, as if someone were in agony for breath, biting at the air, or trying with desperate efforts to cry out or speak. It was repeated a second and a third time; then there was a pause; then again that horrible gasping; and then a long-drawn breath, an audible drawing up of air into the throat, such as one would make in heaving a deep sigh. Such sounds as these could not possibly have been heard unless they had been close to my ear; they seemed to come from the wall at my heard, or to rise up out of my pillow. That fearful gasping, and that drawing in of the breath, in darkness and silence of the night, seemed to make every nerve in my body thrill with dreadful expectation. Unconsciously I shrank away from it, crouching down as before, with my face upon my knees. It ceased, and immediately a moaning sound began, which lengthened out into an awful, protracted groan waxing louder and louder, as if under an increasing agony, and then dying away slowly and gradually into silence; yet painfully and distinctly audible even to the last. #RandolphHarris 11 of 16
As soon as I could rouse myself from the freezing horror which seemed to penetrate even to my joints and marrow, I crept away from the bed, and in the further corner of the room lighted with shaking hand of my candle, looking anxiously about me as I did so, expecting some dreadful revelation as the light flashed up. Yet, if you will believe me, I did not feel alarmed or frightened; but rather oppressed, and penetrated wit an unnatural, overpowering, sentiment of awe. I seemed to be in the presence of some great and horrible mystery, some bottomless depth of woe, or misery, or crime. I shrank from it with a sensation of intolerable loathing and suspense. It was a feeling akin to this which prevented me from calling Mrs. Winchester. I could not bring myself to speak to her of what had passed; not knowing how nearly she might be involved in the mystery. I was only anxious to escape as quietly as possible from the room and from the house. The candle was now beginning to flicker in its socket, but the stars were shining outside, and there was space and air to breathe there, which seemed to be wanting in my room; so I hastily opened my window, tied the bedclothes together for a rope, and lowered myself silently and safely to the ground. There was a light still burning in the lower part of the house; but I crept noiselessly along, feeling my way carefully among the trees, and in due time came upon a beaten track which led me to a road, the same which I had been travelling on the previous night. I walked on, scarcely knowing whither, anxious only to increase my distance from the accursed house, until day began to break, when almost the first object I could see distinctly was a small body of men approaching me. #RandolphHarris 12 of 16
The men asked me what was wrong? “I was disturbed in the night. I could not sleep. I made my escape from the Winchester mansion, and here I am I cannot tell you more.” “But you must tell me more, dear sir; forgive me; you must tell me everything. I must know all that passed in that mansion. We have had in under our surveillance for a long time, and when I heard in what direction you had gone yesterday, and had not returned, I feared you had got into some mischief there, and we were even now upon our way to look for you. The mansion is so large that people seem to get lost inside and disappear.” I could not enter into particulars, but I told him I had heard strange sounds, and at his respect I went back with him to the mansion. He told me by the way that the mansion was haunted; that Mrs. Winchester e mansion, he placed his men about the premises and instituted a strict search, and Mrs. Winchester and the man who was found in the house being compelled to accompany him. The room in which I had slept was carefully examined; the wall was of plaster or cement, so that no sound could have passed through it; the walls were sound and solid, and there was nothing to be seen that could in any way account for the strange disturbance I had experienced. The room on the ground-floor underneath my bedroom was inspected; it contained a quantity of straw, hay, firewood, and lumber. It was paved with thick wooden slaps, and it was observed that the floors were uneven, as if they had been recently disturbed. #RandolphHarris 13 of 16
“Ply the board loose,” said the officer, “we shall find something hidden here, I reckon.” Mrs. Winchester was evidently much disturbed. “Stop,” she cried. “I will tell you what lies there; come away out of doors, and you shall know all about it.” “Dig, I say. We will find out for ourselves.” “Let the dead rest,” cried Mrs. Winchester, with a trembling voice. “For the love of Heaven come away, and hear what I shall tell you. It is the body of my son, my only son—let him rest, if rest he can. He was wounded in a quarrel, and brought home to die. I thought he would recover, but there was neither doctor nor priest at hand, an in spite of all that would could do for him he died. Let him alone now, or let a priest first be sent for; he died unconfessed and unacknowledged. No one ever knew of his existence. I had hope to spare him of the Winchester cruse that Annie and his father had succumbed to. He was buried here because I did not want to make a stir about it. Nobody knew of his death nor his existence, and we laid him down quietly; once place I thought was as good as another when once the life was out of him. We could not bare a scandal. That gasping attempt to speak, and that awful groaning—whence did they proceed? It was no living voice. Beyond that I will express no opinion on the subject. I will only say it was the means of saving my life, and at the same time putting an end to the series of bloody deeds which had been committed under my family’s name. Every year, I go to the edge of my estate and drop a pound of silver in a grave, and my prayers go up to Heaven in all sincerity!” #RandolphHarris 14 of 16
I invoke thee, and move thee, and stir thee up O Spirit Berith appear unto my eyes before the circle in the likeness of a man in the names and by the name Iah and Vau, which Adam spake and in the name of God, Agla, which Lot spake: and it was as pleasant deliverers unto him and his house and in the name Ioth which Iacob spake in the voice of the Holy ones who cast one down, and it was also as pleasant deliverers in the anger of his brother and in the name Anaphaxeton, which Aaron spake and it was as the Secret Wisdom and in the name Asher Ehyeh Oriston, which Mosheh spake, and all waters were brining forth creatures who wax strong, which lifted up unto the houses, which destroyed all things and in the name of Elion which Mosheh spake, and it was as stones from the firmament of wrath, such as was not in the ages of Time the beginning of the Earth and in the name of Adni, which Mosheh spake and there appeared creatures of Earth who destroyed what the big stones did not: and in the name Schema Amathia, which Ioshua invoked, and the Sun remained over ye, O ye hills the seats of Gibeon, and in the names Alpha and Omega which Daniel spake, and destoyed Bel and the Dragon: and in the nae Emmanuel which the sons of God sang praises in the midst of the burning plain, and flourished in conquest: and in the name Hagios, and by the Throne of Adni, and in Ischyros, Athanatos, Paracletos: and in O Theos, Ictros, Athanatos. And in these names of the secret truth, Agla, On, Tetragrammaton, do I invoke and move thee. And in these names, and all things that are the names of the God of Secret Truth who liveth for ever, the All-Powerful. I invoke and stie thee up, O’ spirit Berith. #RandolphHarris 15 of 16
Even by him who spake it was, to whom all creatures are obedient and in the Extreme Justice and Anger of God; and by the veil that is before the glory of God, mighty; and by the creatures of living breath before the Throne whose eyes are east and west; by the fire in the fire of just Glory of the Throne; by the Holy ones of Heaven; and by the secret wisdom of God, I, exalted in power, stir three up. Appear before this circle; obey in all things that I say; in the seal Basdathea Baldachia; and in this Name Primeumaton, which Mosheh spake and the Earth was divided, and Korah, Dathan, and Abiram fell in the depth. Therefore obey in all things, O Spirit Berith, obey thy creation. Come thou forth: appear into my eyes; visit us in peace, be friendly; come forth in the 24th of a moment; obey my power, speaking the secrets of Truth in voice and in understanding! I stir thee up, O Spirit Berith, in all things that are the names of glory and power of God the Great One who is greater than understanding, Adni Ihvh Tzabaoth, come forth in the 24th of a moment, let Thy dwelling-place be empty; apply thyself unto the secret truth and obey my power: appear unto my eyes, visit us in peace, speaking the secrets of truth in voice and understanding. I stir thee up and move thee, O spirit Berith, in all the names that I have said, and I add these one and sic names wherein Solomon, the lord of the secret wisdom, placed yourselves, spirits of wrath, in a vessel, Adonai, Preyai Tetragrammaton, Anaphaxeton Ineddenfatoal, Pathtomon and Itemon: appear before this circle; obey in all things my power. And as thou art he that obeys not and comes not I shall be in thy power, O God Most High that liveth for ever, who is the creator of all things n six days, Eie, Saraye, and in my power in the name Prieumaton that ruleth over the palaces of Heaven, Curse Thee, and destroy thy seat, joy, and power; and I bind thee in the depth of Abaddon, to remain until the day of judgment whose end cannot be. And I being thee in the fire of sulphur mingled with poison and the seas of fire and sulphur: come forth, therefore, obey my power and appear before this circle. Therefore come forth, therefore, obey my power and appear before this circle. Therefore come forth in the name of the Holy Ones Zabaoth, Adonia, Amioran. Come! For I am Adonai who stir thee up. #RandolphHarris 16 of 16
Winchester Mystery House
The attic spaces can get quite dark, but the lights shine through those beautiful glass panes! Come see this and more on the Explore More Tour!
Explore More Tour:
🗝️ Link in bio. winchestermysteryhouse.com
A 160-room mansion built to appease the spirits who died at the hands of the Winchester Rifle 👻
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Why are these People Out there More Prepare for Perdition than You are for Eternal Life?
If we fail to be vigilant, we may well find that the miracles which allows our greatness as a species, may well spell our doom. Underlying principles of respect that were once commonplace in society have increasingly given way to unkind behaviour. To help our children and youth sett aside the many negative examples that bombard them, we must first understand respect, reasons we sometimes act disrespectfully, gospel principles that apply, and ways we can be better teachers and exemplars of respect. There are at least two definitions of respect. The first refers to being polite or civil to those we meet or with whom we interact. This would include being respectful of a teacher. We hope grandchildren will treat grandparents respectfully during visits. We usually treat strangers with polite respect. Another meaning, however, refers to our feelings towards those who merit respect through honourable living. We admire their commitment or standards. For example, we might respect a sailor who gave up winning a boat race to save a man overboard. On the other hand, we do not respect one who embezzles or another who treats a child harshly in the supermarket. Yet if we were to interact with these people, we would likely treat them with respectful or polite manners, regardless of our feelings about their transgressions. Ultimately, even if we do not honour or admire their acts, we can treat people respectfully. As parents and leaders, we are to honour both definitions. We want children not only to treat us with respect—using good manners—but also to honour our standards, which we seek to exemplify through Christlike living. While the gospel teaches us to be respectful toward others without qualification, sometimes we may find ourselves falling into rationalizations about being disrespectful based on their behaviour. A person who cases a problems is often seen as warranting disrespectful treatment. #RandolphHarris 1 of 23
It is probably fair to say that the animal rights movement has called needed attention to the abuse of animals for such purpose as testing cosmetics and other products. It has also encouraged development of alternatives that minimize the use of animals. For example, it may be possible to use computer simulations of animal behaviour for teaching and preliminary research. Also, use of animals could be limited to critical studies. However, again questions arise: Who is to say what research is worthwhile? Is it possible to guess where new knowledge will lead? Might a seemingly minor finding eventually unleash a breakthrough? Perhaps the most important lesson to be learned from animal research is that anyone working with vulnerable subjects, be they animals, children, or those with special needs or disabilities, must maintain the highest ethical standards. Psychological studies are vital for advancing knowledge, but research cannot continue unless researchers are able to retain the public’s trust. The majority of psychological studies are harmless. However, some behavioural research does raise ethical and legal concerns. Anytime there is a risk of possible harm, investigators must ensure that subjects are protected and that strict ethical standards are upheld. There are some basic ethical guidelines for psychological research. Some must do no harm, accurately describe risks to potential subject, ensure that participation is voluntary, minimize any discomfort to participants, maintain confidentiality, do not unnecessarily invade privacy, use deception only when absolutely necessary. Remove any misconceptions caused by deception (debrief), provide results and interpretations to participants, and treat participants with dignity and respect. #RandolphHarris 2 of 23
Respect is an expression of our sense of universal brotherhood or sisterhood—a testimony of our membership in the human family. It acknowledges our common humanity and shows our reverence for children of God. The gospel teaches us that we are to hold the same esteem for others that we hold for ourselves. “And again I say unto you, let every human esteem one’s brother (or sister) as oneself,” reports Doctrine and Covenants 38.25. Acting disrespectfully suggest we do not esteem the other person as ourselves. For example, prejudice is a result of disrespect for our fellow humans. We cannot participate in attitudes of prejudice without distancing ourselves from others. True respect, then, comes as we develop our ability to love our brothers and sisters as ourselves. Humility and affection? Sounds like trouble for me, O Lord, the sort one finds in psalmistries and prophecies. “Blessed is one whom You have brought up, O Lord, and taught about Your law,” as the Psalmist prayed (94.12-13); “may one not be swamped by the troubles!” And may one not ramble about the Earth like the ravaged Daughters of Zion in Isaiah (3.26)! Do not worry about the Prophets, My dear friend. I was their tutor from the beginning, as the Author of the Letter to the Hebrews correctly has it (1.1-2), and I have not stopped talking since. Funny thing, though. Nowadays, when I begin to speak, people feel their deafness coming on. They would rather heart the World than the Word of God; they would rather tickle the fancies of the flesh than tackle the fancy of God. Something is wrong here. The World promises a lot of pretty small stuff, much of it perishable, and guards the warehouse aggressively. However, when I promise Highest Quality and Lasting Value, the mortal heart begins to cringe. #RandolphHarris 3 of 23
The World and its managers have no trouble commanding performance, but I have difficulty in finding just a few good people who will follow My commandments. “Run red with bloody shame, O Sidon, says the sea”; that is what the oracle about the destruction of Tyre and Sidon, those doleful cities, said in Isaiah (23.4). However, I, the Lord and Tailor of the Universe, have a question. Why do I always seem to come out on the short end? For a small benefic you will run a mile, but for Eternal Life you will not lift a single sandal. For a tinny toy people will haggle for the lowest price. However, why does just one coin seem to make so much difference? So the hagglers linger over the litigation until their faces turn red. And what is truly astonishing is that, for a vain premise or a small promise, they are not afraid to work themselves silly day and night. What a shame it is! For Incommutable Good, Inestimable Reward, Incomparable Honour, Interminable Glory, Humanity’s slow to break a sweat. Blush with the common beet, you sluggish and querulous soul, and answer Me these! Why are there people out there more prepared for perdition than you are for Eternal Life? Why do they rejoice more in Vanity than you in Verity? Why are their hopes always coming up short, and ye, for all their foolishness, they never seem sad? Why is that? What is wrong with My promises? Nothing that I can see. First, they do not lumber anyone. Second, they do not dismiss as dolts the persons who put confidence in Me. Third, I give what I promise; I fulfill what I order. Fourth, My only condition is that a person remain faithful to Me till the end. When you remember I am the Rigorous Examiner of all Devouts and the Rewarder of all good folk everywhere, not exactly a bad condition. Now, before you forget, some things to remember. #RandolphHarris 4 of 23
Write My words in your heart and familiarize yourself with them. Why? In time of temptation, you will have to put them into play. What you do not understand when you read, you will learn on the Day of Visitation, that is to say, when I visit My chosen people on the Day of Temptation and the Day of Consolation. Every day I read two lessons to My friends. First, to encourage them to decrease their vices; second, to exhort them to increase their virtues. Whoever “hears My words and spurns them has picked one’s own judge on the Last Day,” I have said in the Gospel oh John (12.48); and an unsympathetic judge at that. Public fascination has recently shifted to John Edward, James Van Praagh, Jensen Ackles, the late Sylvia Brown, and other medium who claim they can make “a really, really long-distance call”—contact with the dead. In 2001, Gallup reported that 28 percent of Americans—up from 18 percent in 1990—reported believing “that people can hear from or communicate mentally with someone who has died”; another 26 percent are “not sure.” Edward, born John MaGee Jr., is a charismatic former ballroom-dance instructor who has seen his gig soar from New York radio stations, to nationwide seminars, to a popular Sci Fi Channel program (Crossing Over) that got moved from late night to prime time and then to daytime syndication. “Alternatively funny, sarcastic and compassionate, he comes off as sensitive yet strong, a sort of all-in-one priest, father and husband figure for the show’s predominately female audience,” reports the New York Times. “He’s telling me to acknowledge the wedding, do you understand this?” Edward asks an audience member to whom he relays information from her recently lost father. In response, the woman crumbles, breaking into sobs. #RandolphHarris 5 of 23
On the edited-for-entertainment broadcast, the television audience sees this impressive hit, but not, the Times reports, the twenty minutes Edward spent during the same taping shooting blanks. The televised hits, say skeptics, are accomplished, first, by a “throw-it-all-against-the-wall-and-see-what-sticks” routine. Search the crowd, Edward says, “They are telling me to acknowledge an M connection; two people’s names begin with M in the family. They are telling me that somebody had the Parkinson’s, or somebody had some sort of neurological disease as well. I’m in this area over here.” He points to a row in the audience. “Do you understand this? Yes? No? Hello?” When a couple of people nod, he focuses on one of them and continues to spew statements (“Somebody in your family is a very heavy smoker”) and questions (“Does ‘Dr. Zhivago’ have any meaning to you?”). Much of the information is ambiguous enough to allow the target to impute meaning: Edward gets “a J or G” sound for a name and sees “blackness in the chest.” Skeptics also say Edward applies classic “cold reading” techniques long practiced by mediums, palm readers, and crystal-ball gazers. Cold readers “read” our clothing, physical features, nonverbal gestures, and reactions to what they are saying. Imagine yourself as the character reader who was visited by a young woman in her late twenties or early thirties. The psychologist Ray Hyman, who once read palms to supplement his income from magic and mental shows, understands the art of cold reading. He described the woman as “wearing expensive jewelry, a wedding band, and a black dress of cheap material. The observant reader noted that she was wearing shoes which were advertised for people with foot trouble.” Do these clues suggest anything? #RandolphHarris 6 of 23
Drawing on these observations, Hyman reports, the character reader proceeded to amaze his client. He assumed that the woman had come to see him, as did most of his female customers, because of a love of financial problem. The black dress and the wedding band led him to reason that her husband had died recently. The expensive jewelry suggested that she had been financially comfortable during the marriage, but the inexpensive dress suggested that her husband’s death had left her impoverished. The therapeutic shoes signified that she was now on her feet more than she had been used to, implying that she had been working to support herself since her husband’s death. Any reader of Sherlock Holmes stories is familiar with this art of cold reading. If you are no as shrewd as this character reader (who correctly guessed that the woman was wondering if she should remarry in the hope of ending her economic hardship), Hyman says it hardly matters. If people seek you out for a reading, start with safe sympathy: “I sense you are having some problems lately. You seem unsure what to do. I get the feeling another person is involved.” Then tell them what hey want to hear. Memorize some universally true statements from astrology and fortune-telling manuals and use them liberally. Tell people it is their responsibility to cooperate by relating your message to their specific experiences. Later they will recall that you predicted the specifics. Phrase statements as questions, and when you detect a positive response, assert the statement strongly. Be a good listener, and later, in different words, reveal to people what they earlier revealed to you. If you dupe them, they will come. #RandolphHarris 7 of 23
The technique works so well that, while seeing others accept his readings as psychic intuitions, Hyman himself became a “a firm believer in palmistry”—until one day a respected professional mentalist suggested an interesting experiment. The mentalist proposed that Hyman deliberately give readings opposite to what the lines indicated. “I tried this out with a few clients,” Hyman reported. “To my surprise and horror, my readings were just as successful as ever. The medium was the message. Ever since then I have been interested in the powerful forces that convince us, [palm] reader and client alike, that something is so when it really isn’t.” Such is the scientific critique of New Age spiritual intuition. However, let us not throw the baby out with the bathwater. One can regard New Age claims of psychic powers and disembodied immortality as unfounded, yet celebrate the gentle music, respect for the planet, and concern for peace and harmony. New Age folk have something to teach skeptics about feelings, and skeptics have something to teach them about critical thinking. They can teach skeptics about the benefits of openness, and skeptics can teach them that a completely open mind is vulnerable to having garbage tossed in. The glimpse is what the name purports to be and should not be regarded as something more, as the fullest opening of the mind to divine truth. However, naturally, because there are different capacities and temperaments in different persons, one glimpse may be wider than another, or take less similar form. The Glimpses are not completely uniform in their details. In each one there is different emphasis on a particular aspect, such as its Beauty, Power, Impersonality, or Emptiness. #RandolphHarris 8 of 23
Since no two human beings are exactly alike, whether in body or mind, the kind of glimpse which each one gets, the way in which one feels and finds the Overself’s pressure, is entirely according to personal needs and not according to a fixed stereotype pattern for all. All humans who win through to the World of their higher self, enter the same World. If their reports differ, as they do, that is not because the experiences differ but because the humans themselves differ. Nevertheless a comparative examination of all available reports will show that there is still a golden thread of similarity running through the, a highest factor of perception. The first occasion when this happens brings a thrill of wonder. This is of course due in part to the tremendous nature of the Overself’s discovery, but it is also due to its novelty, to the fact that it was never previously experienced. Hence the thrill cannot come again, cannot be repeated even though the experience itself may be repeated several times; but the wonder will always remain. There is the deepest feeling in the glimpse, but this does not at all mean it is hysterical. It may be extremely quiet. It may be strongly passionate, in which case it will be completely under control—not by the ego but by the higher power. When one begins to know oneself as one really is, when one experiences this wonderous touch of the Untouched, one feels truly alive. The amazing clearness of the whole revelation and the certainty beyond all possible doubt which accompanies it are only two of its features. An extraordinary inspired elation—emotional, intellectual, and intuitive—is a third feature, with a diffused sense of well-being as its consequence or its corollary. The points of this experience are the difficulty of describing it precisely, the joy it yields and the peace it brings, the feeling of a finer self and the sense of a higher presence, the appraisal of its preciousness and the fading away of Worldly desires. #RandolphHarris 9 of 23
In that blessed moment one finds oneself free in a way never before felt. For one finds oneself without the perplexities of the intellect and without the schemings of the ego. When the two are one, when ego and Overself no longer remain at a distance from one another, humans experience their first illumination. What will happen thereafter is wrapped in mystery. In this brief interval when one feels oneself to be in the presence of the Overself, when goodwill, peace, and wisdom become living eternal realities rather than mere mocking words, the littleness vanishes from life and a sacred grandeur replaces it. In extreme cases, one may even feel as if this is the first time in human history that anyone has had such a glowing experience. The tremulous happiness of these contemplative moments attains is zenith with an inarticulate breathless stillness. One feels elated, lifted up beyond one’s normal self, intensely happy without having any particular physical cause to account for one’s happiness. One feels this goodness with all others. And lastly, the burden of past sins and ancient errors falls from one’s shoulders. One has become cleansed, purified, made whole. These splendid moments, so filled with flashes of beauty and goodness, so tremendous in meaning and perspective, are like peeps into Paradise. All through one’s spiritual career one has dreamt of this first blissful and unique moment when one would enter the Overself’s awareness. In these blessed moments one loves God and knows that one is loved by God. The experience is feeling blent with knowing, but the feeling is as delicious as peach-blossom and the knowing is as certain as sunrise. In finding the godlike within oneself, one finds also the god. And from that stems forth goodwill toward all. It is really love active on a higher plane, love purified of self and cleansed of grossness. #RandolphHarris 10 of 23
Glimpses vary much in their nature. Some are soft, mild, and delicate, quiet and restrained; others are ecstatic, rapturous, and excited. All gives some sort of uplift, exaltation, enlightenment, or revelation an also to varying degrees. I remember the first time I had this astonishing experience. I was fond of disappearing from London whenever the weather allowed and wandering alongside the river Thames in its more picturesque country parts. If the day was sunny I would stretch my feet out, lie down in the grass, pull out notebook and pen from my pocket—knowing that thoughts would eventually arise that would have for me an instructive or even revelatory nature, apart from those ordinary ones which were merely expressive. One day, while I was waiting for these thoughts to arise, I lost the feeling that I was there at all. I seemed to dissolve and vanish from that place, but not from consciousness. Something was there, a presence, certainly not me, but I was fully aware of it. It seemed to be something of the highest importance, the only thing that mattered. After a few minutes I came back, discovered myself in time and space again; but a great peace had touched me and a very benevolent feeling was still with me. I looked at the beautiful evergreen trees, the shrubs, the flowers, and the grass and felt a tremendous sympathy with them and then when I though of other persons a tremendous benevolence towards them. In this mysterious moment the two are one. One no longer abides with the mere images of reality. One is now in the authentic World of reality with itself. There are three stages in each glimpse. The initial one brings a soft feeling of its gentle approach. The second carries the human to its peak of upliftment, enlightenment, and peace. The final one draws one down again into a fading glow which occupies the mind’s background and later survives only in memory. #RandolphHarris 11 of 23
It is a state of exquisite tenderness, of love welling up from an inner center and radiating outward in all directions. If other human beings or animal creatures come within one’s contact at the time, they become recipients of this love without exception. For then no enemies are recognized, none are disliked, and it is not possible to regard anyone as repulsive. The mood is exhilarative without being excitable, centered in reality without losing touch with this pseudo-real World. One may find oneself lost at times in short periods of absent-mindedness. It may be in the sound of bubbling brook or some lovely music or some striking lines of memorable prose. With that one forgets cares and peace wells up within one. Such an experience comes close to the mystical glimpse, only the mystic’s consciousness moves on a higher level. One seeks a diviner life, a finer soul, inner peace. For a fraction of the hour, time suddenly and uniquely steps aside, Isis is unveiled and the real beauty of Being exhibits itself: All is suspended in this glimpse, all is stillness and grace. The memory of a first glimpse is imperishable. It is a love-experience along with a birth of knowledge, all under an enchanter’s spell. When the highly personal egocentric attitude is first displaced by the Overself, there is a sense of sharp liberation and utter relief. In those glorious experiences, one seems to live a charmed existence, above all that distressed one before, beyond all the hideous negatives which the World obtrudes on one’s notice, secure in a spiritual ivory tower shimmering with inner light around. It is an experience which happens deep inside the heart. The glimpse is fresh and direct, it is both a vision and an experience and above all it is spontaneous, for it comes by itself. #RandolphHarris 12 of 23
All memories can be divided into those that are purely personal or private and those that are shared or social. Unshared private memories die with the individual. Social memory lives on. Our remarkable ability to file and retrieve share memories is the secret of our species’ evolutionary success. And anything hat significantly alters the way we construct, store, or use social memory therefore touches on the very wellsprings of destiny. Twice before in human history humankind has revolutionized its social memory. Today, in constructing a new info-sphere, we are poised on the brink of another such transformation. In the beginning, human groups were forced to store their shared memories in the same place they kept private memories—id est, in the minds of individuals. Tribal elders, wise humans, and other carried these memories with them in the form of history, myth, lore, and legend, and transmitted them to their children through speech, song, chant, and example How to light a fire, the best way to snare a bird, how to lace a raft or pound taro, how to sharpen a plowstick or care for the oxen—all the accumulated experience of the group was stored in the neurons and glia and synapses of human beings. So long as this remained true, the size of the social memory was sorely limited. No matter how good the memories of the elderly, no matter how memorable the songs or lessons, there was only so much storage space in the skulls of any population. Second Wave civilization smashed the memory barrier. It spread mass literacy. It kept systematic business records. It built thousands of libraries and museums. It invented the file cabinet. In short, it moved social memory outside the skull, found new ways to store it, and thus expanded it beyond its previous limits. By increasing the store of cumulative knowledge, it accelerated all the processes of innovation and social change, giving Second Wave civilization the most rapidly changing and developing culture the World until then had known. #RandolphHarris 13 of 23
Some of humans’ greatest inventions have come from a new to be love, then a desire to be worshipped; a god. Today we are taking a quantum leap to a whole new stage of social memory. One day we will be able to send an email to a computer by just thinking about what we want to write and it will be transmitted. The radical de-massification of the media, the invention of new media, the mapping of the Earth by satellite, the monitoring of hospital patients by electronic sensors, the computerization of corporate files—al mean we are recording the activities of the civilization in fine-grain detail. Unless we incinerate the planet, and our social memory with it, we shall before long have the closet thing to a civilization with total recall. Third Wave civilization will have at its disposal more information, and more finely organized information, about itself than could have been imagined even a quarter-century ago. The shift to a Third Wave social memory, however, is more than just quantitative. We are also, as it were, imparting life to our memory. When social memory was stored in human brains it was continually being eroded, refreshed, stirred about, combined and recombined in new ways. It was active, or dynamic. It was, in the most literal sense, alive. When industrial civilization moved much of social memory outside the skull, that memory became objectified, embedded in artifacts, books, payroll sheets, newspapers, photographs, and films. However, a symbol once inscribed on a page, a photo once captured on film a newspaper once printed, remained passive or static. Only when these symbols were fed into a human brain again did they come alive, to be manipulated or recombined in fresh ways. While Second Wave civilization radially expanded social memory, it also froze it. #RandolphHarris 14 of 23
What makes the leap to a Third Wave info-sphere so historically exciting is that it not only vastly expands social memory again, but resurrects it from the dead. The computer, because it processes the data it stores, creates an historically unprecedented situation: it makes social memory both extensive and active. And this combination will prove to be propulsive. Activating this newly expanded memory will unleash fresh cultural energies. For the computer not only helps us organize or synthesize “blips” into coherent models of reality, it also stretches the far limits of possible. No library or file cabinet could think, let alone think in an unorthodox fashion. The computer, by contrast, can be asked by us to “think the unthinkable” and the previously unthought. It makes possible a flood of new theories, ideas, ideologies, artistic insights, technical advances, economic and political innovations that were, in the most literal sense, unthinkable and unimaginable before now. In this way, it accelerates historical change and fuels the thrust toward Third Wave social diversity. In all previous societies the info-sphere provided the means for communication between humans. The Third Wave multiplies these means. However, it also provides powerful facilities, for the first time in history, for machine-to-machine communications and, even more astonishing, for conversations between humans and the intelligent environment around them. When we stand back and look at the larger picture, it becomes clear that the revolution in the info-sphere is at least as dramatic as that in the techno-sphere—in the energy system and technological base of society. #RandolphHarris 15 of 23
The work of constructing a new civilization is racing forward on many levels. The Chicago School urban ecologist of the 1920s believed that social distance was reflected in spatial distance. The level of segregation would thus be reflected in the social distance between groups. Thus, as segregation decreased, the integration of social groups would increase. The data are fairly definite in suggesting that this is what occurred with European American ethnic populations, although for some groups it was considerably faster and easier. For European ethnic populations, as generations increased, and income, educational level, and occupational status rose, they increasingly blended into the general American population. For example, as recently as the end of the second World War one could map out distinct ethnic neighbourhoods for groups such as the Irish. Today, with the exception of a few historical holdovers such as south Boston, there no longer are any demographically distinct Irish neighbourhoods. Richard Alba argues that what is emerging is a new ethnic group—“one based on ancestry from anywhere on the European continent.” The major exception to the relationship between rising socioeconomic status and declining spatial segregation has been African Americans. Historically, rising income and education has not, over time, been more or less automatically translated into declining segregation, as has been the case with European or even Hispanic immigrants. Nor did segregation decrease as generations in the United States of America increased. For African Americans the fact of race traditionally has overridden variables. #RandolphHarris 16 of 23
For nearly a century, research has shown that suburban African Americans were more likely to live in suburban municipalities that had lower income, less adequate housing, and trained local finances. At least until the 1980s the patten was of residential segregation increasing in the north and declining in the south. If there is a dual housing market that shunts African Americans primarily into already African American communities, movement of African Americans to the suburbs does not automatically increase interaction between the races. However, there is less institutional discrimination in suburban rental housing than in owner-occupied housing. However, research is showing that in some communities with subsidized rental housing, European Americans face discrimination, especially if they are young. Their applications are overlooked, and people from outside the city, who are African American, women in particular, are given a preference. That is the result of the unaudited “lottery system.” Instead of being first come, first served, there is allegedly a lottery the randomly selects people for the limited number of subsidized units. However, many of the people selected to occupy these units tend to know each other, tend to be related, and are from the same city, so they have to relocate to the new city where these subsided units are. Experts say it is more than a coincidence, but housing fraud. It is not the same as a group of people all moving to one area and buying are renting houses. “It would be nearly impossible for all these people to qualify for subsidized housing in a city they do not live in and for it to be to be so segregated,” (Linda Brewster Stearns and John R. Logan, “Racial Structuring of the Housing Market and Segregation in Suburban Areas”). #RandolphHarris 17 of 23
From the extreme inequality of conditions and fortunes, from the diversity of passions and talents, from useless arts, from pernicious arts, from frivolous sciences there would come a pack of prejudices equally contrary to reason, happiness, and virtue. One would see the leaders fomenting whatever can weaken men untied together by disuniting them; whatever can give society an air of apparent concord while sowing the seeds of real division; whatever can inspire defiance and hatred in the various classes through the opposition of their rights and interests, and can as a consequence strengthen the power that contains them all. It is from the bosom of this disorder and these upheavals that despotism, by gradually raising its hideous head and devouring everything it had seen to be good and healthy in every part of the state, would eventually succeed in trampling underfoot the laws of the people, and in establishing itself on the ruins of the republic. The times that would precede this last transformation would be times of troubles and calamities; but in the end everything would be swallowed up by the monster, and the peoples would no longer have leaders or laws, but only tyrants. Also, from that moment on, there would no longer be any question of mores and virtue, for wherever despotism, in which decency affords no hope, reigns, it tolerates no other master. As soon as it speaks, there is neither probity nor duty to consul, and the blindest obedience is the only virtue remaining for slaves. Here is the final stage of inequality, and the extreme point that closes the circle and touches the point from which we started. Here all private individuals become equals again, because they are nothing. #RandolphHarris 18 of 23
And since subjects no longer have any law other than the master’s will, nor the master any rule other than one’s passions, the notions of good and the principles of justice again vanish. Here everything is returned solely to the law of the strongest, and consequently to a new state of nature different from the one with which we began, in that the one was the state of nature in its purity, and this last one is the fruit of an excess of corruption. Moreover, there is so little difference between these two states, and the governmental contract is o utterly dissolved by despotism, that that despot is master only as long as one is the strongest; and as soon as one can be ousted, one had no cause to protest against violence. The uprising that ends in the strangulation or the dethronement of a sultan is as lawful an act as those by which one disposed of the lives and goods of one’s subjects the day before. Force alone maintained one; force alone brings one down. Thus everything happens in accordance with the natural order, and whatever the outcome of these brief and frequent upheavals may be, no one can complain about someone else’s injustice, but only of one’s own imprudence or one’s misfortune. In discovering and following thus the forgotten and lost routes that must have led humans from the natural state to the civil state: in reestablishing, with the intermediate position I have just taken note of, those that time constrains on me have made me suppress or that the imagination has not suggested to me, no attentive reader can fail to be struck by the immense space that separates these two states. It is in this slow succession of things that one will see the solution to an infinity of moral and political problems which the philosophers are unable to resolve. #RandolphHarris 19 of 23
One will realize that, since the human race of one age is not the human race of another age, the reason why Diogenes did not find one’s man is because one searched among one’s contemporaries for a man who no longer existed. Cato, one will say, perished with Rome and liberty because he was out of place in his age; and this greatest of men merely astonished the World, which five hundred years earlier he would have governed. In short, he will explain how the soul and human passions are imperceptibly altered and, as it were, change their nature; why, in the long run, our needs and our pleasures change their objects; why, with original humans gradually disappearing, society no longer offers to the eyes of the wise human anything but an assemblage of artificial humans and factitious passions which are the work of all these new relations and have no true foundation in nature. What reflection teaches us on this subject is perfectly confirmed by observation: savage humans and civilized humans differ so greatly in the depths of their hearts and in their inclinations, that what constitutes the supreme happiness of the one would reduce the other to despair. Savage man breathes only tranquility and liberty; one wants simply to live and rest easy; and not even the unperturbed tranquility of the Stoic approaches one’s profound indifference for any other objects. On the other hand, the citizen is always active and in a sweat, always agitated, and unceasingly tormenting oneself in order to seek still more laborious occupations. One works until one dies; one even runs to one’s death in order to be in a position to live, or renounces life in order to acquire immorality. #RandolphHarris 20 of 23
One pays court to the great whom one hates and to the rich whom one scorns. One stops at nothing to obtain the honour of serving them. One proudly crows about one’s own baseness and their protection; and proud of one’s slavery, one speaks with disdain about hose who do no have the honour of taking part in it. What a spectacle for the Carib are the difficult and envied labours of the European minister! How many cruel deaths would that indolent savage not prefer to the horror of such a life, which often is not mollified even by the pleasure of doing good. However, in order to see the purpose of so many cares, the words power and reputation would have to have a meaning in one’s mind; one would have to learn that there is a type of men who place some value on the regard the rest of the World has for them, and who know how to be happy and content with themselves on the testimony of others rather than on their own. Such, in fact, is the true cause of all these differences; the savage lives in oneself; the human accustomed to the ways of society is always outside oneself and knows how to live only in the opinion of others. And it is, as it were, from their judgment alone that one draws the sentiment of one’s own existence. It is no pertinent to my subject to show how, from such a disposition, so much indifference for good and evil arises, along with such fine discourse or morality; how, with everything reduced to appearances, everything becomes factitious and bogus: honour, friendship, virtue, and often even our vices, about which we eventually find the secret of boasting; how, in a word, always asking others what we are and never daring to question ourselves on his asking others what are and never daring to question ourselves on this matter, in the midst of so much philosophy, humanity, politeness and sublime maxims, we have merely a deceitful and frivolous exterior: honour without virtue, reason without wisdom, and pleasure without happiness. #RandolphHarris 21 of 23
It is enough for me to have proved that his is not the original state of man, and that this is only the spirit of society, and the inequality that society engenders, which thus change and alter all our natural inclinations. I have tried to set forth the origin and process of inequality, the establishment and abuse of political societies, to the extent that these things can be deduced from the nature of humans by the light of reason alone, and independently of the sacred dogmas that give to sovereign authority the sanction of the divine right. It follows from this presentation that, since inequality is practically non-existent in the state of nature, it derives its force and growth from the development of our faculties and the progress of the human mind, and eventually becomes stable and legitimate through the establishment of property and laws. Moreover, it follows that moral inequality, authorized by positive right alone, is contrary to natural right whenever it is not combined in the same proportion with physical inequality: a distinction that is sufficient to determine what one should think in this regard about the sort of inequality that reigns among all civilized people, for it is obviously contrary to the law of nature, however it may be defined, for a child to command an old man, for an imbecile to lead a wise man, and for a handful of people to gorge themselves on superfluities while the starving multitude lacks necessities. Tired of all who come with words, words but no language I went to the snow-covered island. The wild does not have words. The unwritten pages spread themselves out in all directions! I come across the marks of roe-deer’s hooves in the snow. Language but no words. #RandolphHarris 22 of 23
Lord, please grant me the ability to be alone; may it be my custom to go outdoors each day among the trees and grasses, among all growing things, and there may I be alone, and enter into prayer to talk with the one that I belong to. Praised art Thou, O Lord our God and God of our fathers, God of Abraham, God of Isaac, and God of Jacob, mighty, revered and exalted God. Thou bestowest lovingkindness and possesses all things. Mindful of the patriarchs’ love for Thee, Thou wilt in Thy love bring a redeemer to their children’s children for the sake of Thy name. O King, Thou Helper, Redeemer and Shiel, be Thou praised, O Lord, Shield of Abraham. Thou, O Lord, art mighty forever. Thou callest the dead to immortal life for Thou art might in deliverance. Our God and God of our fathers, dew, precious dew, unto Thy land forlorn! Pour out our blessing in Thy exultation, to strengthen us with ample premium cranberry juice and corn, and give Thy chosen city safe foundation in dew. Dew, precious dew, the good year’s crown, we wait, that Earth in pride and glory may be fruited, and that the city now so desolate into a gleaming crown may be transmuted by dew. Dew, precious dew, let fall upon the land, from Heaven’s treasury be this accorded, so shall the darkness by a beam be spanned, the faithful of Thy vineyard be rewarded with dew. Dew, precious dew, to make the mountains sweet, the savour of Thy excellence recalling! Deliver us from exile, we entreat, so we my sing Thy praises, softly falling as dew. Dew, precious dew, our granaries to fill, and us with youthful freshness to enharden! Beloved God, uplift us at Thy will and make us as a richly-watered garden with dew. Dew, precious dew, that we our harvest reap, and guard our fatted flocks and herds from leanness! Behold our people follows Thee like sheep, and looks to Thee to give the Earth her greenness with due. For Thou art the Lord our God who causest the wind to blow and the dew to descend: For a blessing and no for a curse. Amen. For life and not for death. Amen. For plenty and not for famine. Amen. Remember, it takes a special breed to keep America safe! #RandolphHarris 23 of 23
Cresleigh Homes
Kids grow up so fast! With four bedrooms in the Mills Station Residence 4, there’s plenty of room to keep them comfy as they grow. There’s even a bonus Home Hub off the entry that can be easily converted to a kids’ playroom! 🥰 https://cresleigh.com/mills-station/residence-4/
Amazing country kitchen option and spacious design that sprawls over approximately 2,800 square feet, with a downstairs flex space, upstairs loft
Randolph Harris II International Institute 