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forgotten that with the fingers I see only a very small portion of a
surface； and that I must pass my hand continually over it before my
touch grasps the whole。 It is still more important； however； to remember
that my imagination is not tethered to certain points； locations； and
distances。 It puts all the parts together simultaneously as if it saw or
knew instead of feeling them。 Though I feel only a small part of my
horse at a time；……my horse is nervous and does not submit to manual
explorations；……yet； because I have many times felt hock； nose； hoof and
mane； I can see the steeds of Phoebus Apollo coursing the heavens。
With such a power active it is impossible that my thought should be
vague； indistinct。 It must needs be potent； definite。 This is really a
corollary of the philosophical truth that the real world exists only for
the mind。 That is to say； I can never touch the world in its entirety；
indeed； I touch less of it than the portion that others see or hear。 But
all creatures； all objects； pass into my brain entire； and occupy the
same extent there that they do in material space。 I declare that for me
branched thoughts； instead of pines； wave； sway； rustle； make musical
the ridges of mountains rising summit upon summit。 Mention a rose too
far away for me to smell it。 Straightway a scent steals into my
nostril； a form presses against my palm in all its dilating softness；
with rounded petals； slightly curled edges； curving stem； leaves
drooping。 When I would fain view the world as a whole； it rushes into
vision……man； beast； bird； reptile； fly； sky； ocean； mountains； plain；
rock； pebble。 The warmth of life； the reality of creation is over
all……the throb of human hands； glossiness of fur； lithe windings of long
bodies； poignant buzzing of insects； the ruggedness of the steeps as I
climb them； the liquid mobility and boom of waves upon the rocks。
Strange to say； try as I may； I cannot force my touch to pervade this
universe in all directions。 The moment I try； the whole vanishes； only
small objects or narrow portions of a surface； mere touch…signs； a chaos
of things scattered at random； remain。 No thrill； no delight is excited
thereby。 Restore to the artistic； prehensive internal sense its
rightful domain； and you give me joy which best proves the reality。
BEFORE THE SOUL DAWN
XI
BEFORE THE SOUL DAWN
BEFORE my teacher came to me； I did not know that I am。 I lived in a
world that was a no…world。 I cannot hope to describe adequately that
unconscious； yet conscious time of nothingness。 I did not know that I
knew aught； or that I lived or acted or desired。 I had neither will nor
intellect。 I was carried along to objects and acts by a certain blind
natural impetus。 I had a mind which caused me to feel anger；
satisfaction； desire。 These two facts led those about me to suppose
that I willed and thought。 I can remember all this； not because I knew
that it was so； but because I have tactual memory。 It enables me to
remember that I never contracted my forehead in the act of thinking。 I
never viewed anything beforehand or chose it。 I also recall tactually
the fact that never in a start of the body or a heart…beat did I feel
that I loved or cared for anything。 My inner life； then； was a blank
without past； present； or future； without hope or anticipation； without
wonder or joy or faith。
It was not night……it was not day。
。 。 。 。 。
But vacancy absorbing space；
And fixedness； without a place；
There were no stars……no earth……no time……
No check……no change……no good……no crime。
My dormant being had no idea of God or immortality； no fear of death。
I remember； also through touch； that I had a power of association。 I
felt tactual jars like the stamp of a foot； the opening of a window or
its closing； the slam of a door。 After repeatedly smelling rain and
feeling the disfort of wetness； I acted like those about me： I ran to
shut the window。 But that was not thought in any sense。 It was the same
kind of association that makes animals take shelter from the rain。 From
the same instinct of aping others； I folded the clothes that came from
the laundry； and put mine away； fed the turkeys； sewed bead…eyes on my
doll's face； and did many other things of which I have the tactual
remembrance。 When I wanted anything I liked；……ice…cream； for instance；
of which I was very fond；……I had a delicious taste on my tongue （which；
by the way； I never have now）； and in my hand I felt the turning of the
freezer。 I made the sign； and my mother knew I wanted ice…cream。 I
〃thought〃 and desired in my fingers。 If I had made a man； I should
certainly have put the brain and soul in his finger…tips。 From
reminiscences like these I conclude that it is the opening of the two
faculties； freedom of will； or choice； and rationality； or the power of
thinking from one thing to another； which makes it possible to e into
being first as a child； afterwards as a man。
Since I had no power of thought； I did not pare one mental state with
another。 So I was not conscious of any change or process going on in my
brain when my teacher began to instruct me。 I merely felt keen delight
in obtaining more easily what I wanted by means of the finger motions
she taught me。 I thought only of objects； and only objects I wanted。 It
was the turning of the freezer on a larger scale。 When I learned the
meaning of 〃I〃 and 〃me〃 and found that I was something； I began to
think。 Then consciousness first existed for me。 Thus it was not the
sense of touch that brought me knowledge。 It was the awakening of my
soul that first rendered my senses their value； their cognizance of
objects； names； qualities； and properties。 Thought made me conscious of
love； joy； and all the emotions。 I was eager to know； then to
understand； afterward to reflect on what I knew and understood； and the
blind impetus； which had before driven me hither and thither at the
dictates of my sensations； vanished forever。
I cannot represent more clearly than any one else the gradual and subtle
changes from first impressions to abstract ideas。 But I know that my
physical ideas； that is； ideas derived from material objects； appear to
me first an idea similar to those of touch。 Instantly they pass into
intellectual meanings。 Afterward the meaning finds expression in what is
called 〃inner speech。〃 When I was a child； my inner speech was inner
spelling。 Although I am even now frequently caught spelling to myself on
my fingers； yet I talk to myself； too； with my lips； and it is true that
when I first learned to speak； my mind discarded the finger…symbols and
began to articulate。 However； when I try to recall what some one has
said to me； I am conscious of a hand spelling into mine。
It has often been asked what were my earliest impressions of the world
in which I found myself。 But one who thinks at all of his first
impressions knows what a riddle this is。 Our impressions grow and change
unnoticed； so that what we suppose we thought as children may be quite
different from what we actually experienced in our childhood。 I only
know that after my education began the world which came within my reach
was all alive。 I spelled to my blocks and my dogs。 I sympathized with
plants when the flowers were picked； because I thought it hurt them；
and that they grieved for their lost blossoms。 It was two years before I
could be made to believe that my dogs did not understand what I said；
and I always apologized to them when I ran into or stepped on them。
As my experiences broadened and deepened； the indeterminate； poetic
feelings of childhood began to fix themselves in definite thoughts。
Nature……the world I could touch……was folded and filled with myself。 I am
inclined to believe those philosophers who declare that we know nothing
but our own feelings and ideas。 With a little ingenious reasoning one
may see in the material world simply a mirror； an image of permanent
mental sensations。 In either sphere self…knowledge is the condition and
the limit of our consciousness。 That is why； perhaps； many people know
so little about what is beyond their short range of experience。 They
look within themselves……and find nothing！ Therefore they conclude that
there is nothing outside themselves； either。
However that may be； I came later to look for an image of my emotions
and sensations in others。 I had to learn the outward signs of inward
feelings。 The start of fear； the suppressed； controlled tensity of pain；
the beat of happy muscles in others； had to be perceived and pared
with my own experiences before I could trace them back to the intangible
soul of another。 Groping； uncertain； I at last found my identity； and
after seeing my thoughts and feelings repeated in others； I gradually
constructed my world of men and of God。 As I read and study； I find
that this is what the rest of the race has done。 Man looks within
himself and in time finds the measure and the meaning of the universe。
THE LARGER SANCTIONS
XII
THE LARGER SANCTIONS
SO； in the midst of life； eager； imperious life； the deaf…blind child；
fettered to the bare rock of circumstance； spider…like； sends out
gossamer threads of thought into the measureless void that surrounds
him。 Patiently he explores the dark； until he builds up a knowledge of
the world he lives in； and his soul meets the beauty of the world； where
the sun shines always； and the birds sing。 To the blind child the dark
is kindly。 In it he finds nothing extraordinary or terrible。 It is his
familiar world； even the groping from place to place； the halting
steps； the dependence upon others； do not seem strange to him。 He does
not know how many countless pleasures the dark shuts out from him。 Not
until he weighs his life in the scale of others' experience does he
realize what it is to live forever in the dark。 But the knowledge that
teaches him this bitterness also brings its consolation……spiritual
light； the promise of the day that shall be。
The blind child……the deaf…blind child……has inherited the mind of seeing
and hearing ancestors……a mind measured to five senses。 Therefore he must
be influenced； even if it be unknown to himself； by the light； colour；
song which have been transmitted through the language he is taught； for
the chambers of the mind are ready to receive that language。 The brain
of the race is so permeated with colour that it dyes even the speech of
the blind。 Every object I think of is stained with the hue that belongs
to it by association and memory。 The experience of the deaf…blind
person； in a world of seeing； hearing people； is like that of a sailor
on an island where the inhabitants speak a language unknown to him；
whose life is unlike that he has lived。 He is one； they are many； there
is no chance of promise。 He must learn to see with their eyes； to
hear with their ears； to think their thoughts； to follow their ideals。
If the dark； silent world which surrounds him were essentially different
from the sunlit； resonant world； it would be inprehensible to his
kind； and could never be discussed。 If his feelings and sensations were
fundamentally different from those of others； they would be
inconceivable except to those who had similar sensations and feelings。
If the mental consciousness of the deaf…blind person were absolutely
dissimilar to that of his fellows； he would have no means of imagining
what they think。 Since the mind of the sightless is essentially the same
as that of the seeing in that it admits of no lack； it must supply some
sort of equivalent for missing physical sensations。 It must perceive a
likeness between things outward and things inward； a correspondence
between the seen and the unseen。 I make use of such a correspondence in
many relations； and no matter how far I pursue it to things I cannot
see； it does not break under the test。
As a working hypothesis； correspondence is adequate to all life； through
the whole range of phenomena。 The flash of thought and its swiftness
explain the lightning flash and the sweep of a et through the
heavens。 My mental sky opens to me the vast celestial spaces； and I
proceed to fill t