ke conclusion
is reached in the philosophy of Western idealism: "The real spirit which
comes to itself in human consciousness is to be regarded as an
impersonal pneuma--universal reason, nay, as the spirit of God Himself;
and the good of man's whole development, therefore, can be no other than
to substitute the universal for the individual consciousness."

That there may be, and are affirmed to be, intermediate stages, states,
or discrete degrees, will, of course, be understood. The aim of this
paper has been to call attention to the abstract condition of the
immortalized consciousness; negatively it is true, but it is on this
very account more suggestive of practical applications. The connection
of the Theosophical Society with the Spiritualist movement is so
intimately sympathetic, that I hope one of these may he pointed out
without offence. It is that immortality cannot be phenomenally
demonstrated. What I have called psychic survival can be, and probably
is. But immortality is the attainment of a state, and that state the
very negation of phenomenal existence. Another consequence refers to
the direction our culture should take. We have to compose ourselves to
death. Nothing less. We are each of us a complex of desires, passions,
interests, modes of thinking and feeling, opinions, prejudices, judgment
of others, likings and dislikings, affections, aims public and private.
These things, and whatever else constitutes, the recognizable content of
our present temporal individuality, are all in derogation of our ideal
of impersonal being--saving consciousness, the manifestation of being.
In some minute, imperfect, relative, and almost worthless sense we may
do right in many of our judgments, and be amiable in many of our
sympathies and affections. We cannot be sure even of this. Only people
unhabituated to introspection and self-analysis are quite sure of it.
These are ever those who are loudest in their censures, and most
dogmatic in their opinionative utterances. In some coarse, rude fashion
they are useful, it may be indispensable, to the world's work, which is
not ours, save in a transcendental sense and operation. We have to
strip ourselves of all that, and to seek perfect passionless
tranquillity. Then we may hope to die. Meditation, if it be deep, and
long, and frequent enough, will teach even our practical Western mind to
understand the Hindu mind in its yearning for Nirvana. One
infinitesimal ato