I SHALL begin this chapter with a summary of the positive though tentative conclusions which seem to me to have emerged at one stage or another throughout the course of this book. I shall then give a brief account of two metaphysical problems which I regard as the growing points of metaphysical enquiry to-day. I mean the problems of Time and Mystical Experience.
Our discussion of personal immortality1 led to the conviction that no such possibility should be allowed to playa guiding part in the conduct of a man's life. Enquiring2 into the relation of mind and body, we came to no clear conclusion, save the surmise3 that they must not be regarded as distinct substances. The problem of the external world and the experient led us into deep waters, but left us with a sense of the rich actuality of a universe that was no mere4 creature of our minds.
Our examination of the nature of reasoning suggested the conclusion that the method of intellectual enquiry was in principle capable of yielding objectively true propositions about unexperienced regions of the world. With some hesitation5 we rejected the uncompromising view that logical implication was a purely7 linguistic8 phenomenon, that it applied9 only to the analysis of definitions or concepts, and in no sense to the external world. We decided10 that, in so far as a concept was superficially true of the world, the deeper logical implications of it might reasonably be expected to be true also. But we admitted that there was no necessity in this, even if the initial concept itself was true of the world. The implications could not be more than probably true of the world. As a matter of fact they were often borne out in practice.
In the field of ethics11 we found that no classical theory was satisfactory, but on the other hand we came to the opinion that radical12 ethical13 scepticism was unjustified. In spite of Logical Positivism, we regarded moral experience as affording a sense of objectivity and universality which should not be overlooked in the interest of any theory. We really do experience free activity as good and frustration15 as bad in the fundamental and indefinable sense.
Examination of the nature of personality led us to think of the individual as a system of capacities of varying degrees of complexity16 and mental lucidity17; and of individuals as differing from one another in sensitivity, discrimination, and integration18. We distinguished19 between the distinctively20 animal and the distinctively human capacities, and those obscure capacities which seem to lie at the upper reaches of human nature.
In particular, we distinguished between the distinctively animal and the distinctively human modes of social behaviour. Further analysis led us to contrast the herd-mentality21 (the animal mode) with the individualistic mentality and the will for genuine community. In human society, we decided, individualism mostly dominates, but herd-mentality is always present and sometimes dominant23; while the will for genuine community is precarious24 and rare, though sometimes crucially important. We examined theories of social change, and decided that Economic Determinism was by far the most significant. We saw reason, however, to refrain from setting it up as an absolutely and universally true principle, save in the loosest possible sense.
Passing on to metaphysics, we recognised that the kind of truth which intellect could discover in this sphere was very limited. We had to face the claim that all metaphysical enquiry was necessarily futile26 because propositions that could not even in theory be verified must be strictly27 meaningless. In order to judge this claim, we distinguished between "immanent" metaphysics (the attempt to discover by observation and rational analysis the most general characters that are true of anything whatever in the experienced universe, or of the experienced universe as a whole), and "transcendent" metaphysics (the attempt to discover a hidden reality behind experience, and different in kind from it). We decided that immanent metaphysics, though its conclusions must always be suspect, was not in principle impossible. Further, since metaphysical assertions of both types are very common, it seemed desirable to study metaphysics if only in order to be able to expose false metaphysical assumptions and refute false metaphysical theories.
We then attempted a survey of metaphysical theories from Descartes to Whitehead. Descartes' dualism of matter and mind led to Spinoza's monism in which mind and matter are regarded as attributes of a single substance. This in turn led to Leibniz's pluralistic idealism, according to which there is an infinite number of substances, all of them mental, and matter is illusory. Then followed the monistic idealism of Kant and Hegel, in which reality is essentially28 mental, but is a single, indivisible, quality-less Absolute Spirit. In revulsion from this, came pluralistic and mechanical materialism29, in which only the characters studied by physics are real, and reality consists of an infinite number of physical units interacting with one another. On the other hand, Marx's dialectical materialism rejected mechanism30. In his view physical categories are not the sole causal characters. Nevertheless, in his view mind has a determinate nature, and all its behaviour is in the long run determined31 by the dialectical necessities forced upon it by the objective environment, and particularly the social environment. We also examined Bergson's Life Force theory, in which a purposive power controls evolution and human history; in which intellect is essentially falsifying, and the only true knowing is intuitive. For these theories we found little evidence; but we recognised that Bergson was very important as a check upon the extravagant32 faith in mechanism and rationalism. We then turned to the Emergence33 theory, in which teleology34 and consciousness are said to "emerge" in very complex configurations35 of physical entities36. Lack of evidence made it impossible to judge this theory. Finally we examined Whitehead's philosophy, which seeks to harmonise ideas derived37 from Absolute Idealism, epistemological realism, and biology. This system we found obscure, but full of suggestive ideas.
None of these theories has proved entirely38 satisfactory, but all have contributed, if only in a negative; manner, to our understanding of the experienced world. A few positive but rather vague conclusions may be offered.
Perhaps we should begin by reminding ourselves that, though abstract thought is capable of yielding important truths about the universe, we have again and again discovered that it involves a characteristic snare39. It is all too apt to lead to the hypostatisation of some one kind of factor in the universe and the dismissal of all others as "illusory," or mere "epiphenomena." This procedure has repeatedly led to bad metaphysics. For instance, with regard to the problem of "the one and the many," neither extreme monism nor extreme pluralism can afford us a coherent description of the universe. In fact the universe is both many and one. It is fatal to abstract either its unity22 or its multiplicity, and hypostatise one of these characters at the expense of the other. Parts cannot be wholly independent of one another, but neither can they be wholly an expression of their relations to one another. However minutely we analyse anything, we shall never be able to show that it consists of certain atomic elements and certain atomic relations. Always the parts will be in principle further analysable into minute wholes consisting of minuter parts which in turn are constituted by their intrinsic relations to other parts. All wholes are infinitely41 analysable into actual parts; yet all parts are synthetic42 systems of intrinsic relations.
Another reasonable conclusion is that neither the mental aspect of experience nor the physical aspect should be abstracted and regarded as an all-sufficient concept for understanding the universe. Metaphysically, mentality is as significant as physicality; and vice43 versa.
Tentatively we may draw another conclusion, of a different type, which involves not only philosophy but science. There seems some reason to believe that purposiveness, which in one manner or another characterises all conscious behaviour, must play a very large part in the universe. When we remember the size of the physical universe and the immensities of the past and the future, we cannot but believe that, scattered44 among the myriads45 of stars, there are, or will be, purposeful beings as superior to us as we are to the amoeba. Of these beings we can conceive almost nothing, but from the examination of our own experience we are entitled to draw certain tentative conclusions about them. So far as we know, all conscious beings are essentially active. And when they develop beyond the level of blind impulse, they tend to desire the fulfilment of their particular capacities for action. These capacities, as we have seen, vary in complexity and subtlety47. And conscious beings also vary in the degree of the integration of their capacities. That is, some conscious beings are more unified48, more highly organised than others. It is reasonable to suppose that, throughout the universe, conscious beings vary immensely both in the richness of their capacities and in the degree of integration of their capacities to form unified systems.
Examination of our own human experience has led us to assert that we do recognise differences of intrinsic worth in human beings. In the last analysis these differences of worth correspond to differences of mental development, differences of richness and integration of knowing-feeling-striving. In fact, we tend to admire most those who are most developed as knowers-feelers-strivers, in fact as persons. It was pointed49 out that both a subjective50 and an objective account of this value can be given. We may, I suggest, affirm with some confidence that this admiration51 for personal development is no mere human whim52, but a characteristic implicit53 in the nature of consciousness, and explicit54 whenever conscious beings reach a certain degree of development, throughout the universe.
Further, as we have seen, conscious beings that have passed beyond a certain stage of mental development tend to desire fulfilment not only for themselves as individuals, but for some other conscious beings who are personally known to them. Moreover, in intercourse55 with other and diverse persons, they may find immense enrichment of their own personality. Hence emerges the ideal of personality-in-community. As conscious beings advance in mental growth, they come to recognise that this ideal must embrace not merely their own kin25 or neighbours, not only their tribe or nation, not only the whole race or species, but all conscious beings whatever, no matter how foreign. It is surely probable that this desire for the fulfilment of personality-in-community plays a very large part in the universe. We must remember, of course, that the particular forms which it may take in different kinds of worlds, up and down the universe, may be utterly56 alien to our comprehension and appreciation57. Or rather, not utterly alien; since, if these arguments are correct, there is an essential underlying58 kinship and identity in all possible kinds of conscious being.
On the whole it seems more reasonable than unreasonable59 to believe that the ideal of progress in the direction of ever-increasing personality-in-community is not peculiar60 to man but is a very general characteristic of conscious beings, and is in some manner deeply rooted in the nature of the universe. It is no fixed61 goal, but one which at the best of times tends to recede62 faster than it is approached. For the activity of conscious beings produces novel situations in which new forms of personality and of community emerge, and new, hitherto inconceivable capacities demand expression. By means of intelligence and creative imagination conscious beings can sometimes so manipulate reality in the external world and in themselves that it will manifest entirely new aspects of itself. In my earlier book, Star Maker63, I have sketched64 an imaginary history of the cosmos65 on these lines.
In our survey of metaphysics in recent centuries we saw that in one form or another this ideal of personality-in-community was affirmed or implicitly66 accepted by all the great philosophers. Not only was it accepted as a human aim, but in many cases it was given some kind of metaphysical status. This consensus67 of opinion may well strengthen our conviction.
Such, I suggest, should be our tentative conclusions, thus far. One famous metaphysical problem we have several times encountered, but we have come to no kind of decision about it. The problem of Time must now be briefly68 considered on its own merits. In our metaphysical survey we came across two very different attitudes to time, represented, for instance, on the one hand by Hegel, for whom the universe is eternally perfect, and time is but a limited aspect of it, and by Bergson, for whom the passage of our experience is absolutely real, and the static is an abstraction. The problem of time is so important that I must devote a special section to it.
ii. Time
Let us begin by noting briefly how we do in fact experience time. We actually perceive changes and movements. The rise of a rocket is not merely remembered in successive moments. We actually see it soaring. On the other hand, when the process is completed, when the rocket has burst into a shower of stars and has disappeared, we remember the vanished past event. In a very fragmentary manner we retain much of our past experience as a system of latent memories. And in addition to our personal memories we have more or less reliable knowledge of other past events. This knowledge is derived from the reports of other persons, from historical, anthropological69, geological records, and astronomical70 observations. Our experience of the future consists, mainly at any rate, of inferences from the present and past. Immediate71 pre-vision or "second sight" must certainly not be dismissed as too fantastic to be credible72. We know of no necessity which renders pre-vision impossible, and there is some fragmentary evidence for it both in waking experience and in dreams. But it would be rash to affirm confidently that it does occur.
Such in brief are the possible forms of our experience of time. It is important to realise that we actually perceive change and motion. If our experience were simply made up of a succession of instantaneous flashes, like the separate pictures of a cinematograph film, each coming into being and vanishing, to give place to the next, we should not perceive motion at all, but only remember that things were different from what they are. For the pictures to be fused into living motion, there must be something persisting from instant to instant to do the fusing.
But, of course, the idea of time as made up of timeless instants, or of space as made up of sizeless points, is false. Instants and points are abstractions from our concrete experience of time and space. Indeed, time and space themselves are abstractions from our concrete experience of the "passage" of spatio-temporal events.
To hypostatise the instant and the point is to let ourselves in for a swarm73 of false problems, such as the ancient puzzle of the flying arrow. The arrow at a certain instant is said to be actually at a certain point. Its tip is "in" a point. If so, at the instant there is no difference between a moving arrow and a stationary74 arrow. There is no movement in a point-instant. If so, how does the arrow ever reach the next point? The whole difficulty arises from the mistake of abstracting and hypostatising instants and points. If time were literally75 composed of timeless instants, laid beside one another, so to speak, it would never get under way at all. All the instants would coincide. And if space were a host of sizeless points, either they would all coincide as one point, or there would after all have to be spaces between them.
During a very short span of time, then, we actually perceive change and motion. This span, which has no clear beginning or end, is called the "specious76 present," or "now." If a change or motion is too rapid, we do not perceive it at all. The light and dark phases of an electric filament77 lit by an alternating current are not perceived. On the other hand, equally if a change is too slow, we do not perceive it. For instance, we cannot perceive the movement of the minute hand of a watch. We only remember that it was where it is not. We may conceive a being who could distinguish the strokes of a bee's wing as we distinguish those of a gull's; or again, a being who could perceive the growing of a tree over a century as we might perceive a quick-motion film of its growth. We may conceive a being whose "now" was a single electro-magnetic pulsation78; or one who embraced within his "now" a geological epoch79, or an astronomical aeon80. We may even conceive a being who could both distinguish the single vibration81 and yet also grasp the whole aeon as "now"; as we distinguish the individual tones of a melody and yet grasp in one act of perception the whole bar. What we can not conceive is a being whose "now" is a timeless instant; or, on the other hand, one whose "now" is eternity82. For neither instant nor eternity can accommodate actual "passage."
With regard to memory, we have already had occasion to refer to Bertrand Russell's suggestion that all memory might be sheer illusion. This possibility is based on'; illicit83 abstraction. If all that is immediately given in experience is an instant, then not only does movement vanish, but the whole past may be regarded as illusion. But perception of movement and change guarantees some sort of past, however different in detail from that retained in our obviously fallible memory.
In considering the philosophy of time we encounter the question whether time constitutes a medium, a matrix, within which events happen, somewhat as toy bricks may be packed in a box in successive layers, or whether time is nothing but a particular kind of relationship between events. I shall not discuss this question in detail. The idea that time is logically prior to events, and that there might be time without events in it, seems to be another product of illicit abstraction. One might as well suppose that parenthood was logically prior to the individuals that become parents, that it was a medium within which individuals assume parental84 relations.
Time, then, is best regarded as a relationship of events. The same arguments apply to space. What is concrete is events, which consist of characters in spatial85 and temporal relations with each other. If so, then the modern conception of space as at once boundless86 and finite becomes intelligible87. We are told that a journey in a straight line among the stars would finally bring one round to one's starting-point. This means merely that the possible spatial relations between events form a closed, not an open and infinite series. Similarly if time consists simply of relations of "before" and "after" and "contemporaneous with," there is no reason why the "last" event of the time series should not also immediately precede the "first." Then the whole series would be "circular." This would not mean an endlessly repeated cycle of events, but a single cycle. For there would be no other, "straight-line" time-series of events in which the cycle could be repeated. I mention these possibilities merely to show that our temporal experience is not as simple as we sometimes suppose.
It is impossible to think accurately88 about time unless we distinguish two very different aspects of it. From the subjective point of view we regard it as consisting essentially of the present event (or "now"), a vaguely89 remembered or reported past, and an expected future. These three modes of subjective time have very different quality or status. The present is always handing over its character to the immediate past and assuming a new i character.
From the other, the objective point of view, time consists of the series of events which (in the broadest sense) constitute the actual history of the universe. These are arranged in a certain order. Each is related by the relation "after" to the preceding event, and by the relation "before" to the succeeding event. More accurately, history consists of one long continuous event which can be analysed into an indefinite number of abstract constituent90 events. From this point of view, which we may regard as the "scientific" aspect of time, all the events have similar status. Past, present, and future are irrelevant91.
It is tempting92 to regard the series of events as in itself timeless or eternal, and our experience as a passing along the series, as the beam of a searchlight sweeps over the clouds, illuminating93 first one and then another feature; or as a stick floating on a river passes stationary objects on the bank. This theory, it is sometimes said, turns time into a purely subjective fact, and therefore an illusion, not a characteristic of reality. But this is a mistake. Even if external events are timeless, the sequence of our illusory mental views of them is a real sequence. The problem of time is merely shifted from the external to the internal sphere of reality. From the scientific point of view, no doubt, the careers of conscious beings are more or less prolonged events in particular situations within the whole tissue of events. The career of a prehistoric94 man and the career of a future man are just as "real" as one's own present experience. In a certain mood it is impossible not to believe that this is true. But if it is true, change, motion, the passage of time, become illusions.
On the other hand, if we insist on retaining the absolute reality of passage, the past and future must be non-existent. This raises a difficulty. Reality is reduced to a knife-edge of instant-present events, between two vast non-entities, the past and the future. Or is the present not an instant but a small span of time? Then how big a span? To fix on the span of our own specious present is arbitrary.
A special difficulty about the nature of time has been created by modern physics. It has come to seem that time and space are not as distinct as they were thought to be. At any rate their distinction is not as clear as it was. This is not an occasion to discuss the physical theory of relativity, even if I were competent to do so. But a few words must be said about its bearing on the philosophy of time. Briefly, the trouble is apparently95 that we are no longer entitled to believe in an absolute "simultaneity " of events. There is no precise set of events throughout the universe all of which are simultaneous with one another, and before a subsequent set, and after a preceding set. From one point of view events A and B are contemporaneous, but from another (dependent on the movement of the observer) A may precede B; and from yet another point of view B may precede A. Similarly, distances can no longer be regarded as absolute. And the two sets of variations, temporal and spatial, are interdependent and complementary, in such a manner as to suggest that time and space are in a sense (and only within narrow limits) convertible96 into one another. What appears from one point of view as an increase of time appears from another point of view as a decrease of space, and vice versa.
All this is very surprising, but we must hold fast to our concrete experience of time and space. In immediate experience the temporal aspect of events is qualitatively97 different from their spatial aspect. Time and space are "as different as chalk from cheese," nay98, much more different. Even if, in astronomical magnitudes they reveal a close interconnection, we must never be deluded99 into supposing that time is merely a fourth dimension of space.
On the other hand, it is quite conceivable that, to minds of a higher lucidity than ours, what appears to us as the temporal sequence of cosmical events may appear simultaneously100 "spread out" as a fourth spatial dimension, while a fifth dimension of events, wholly unknown to us, may constitute for those beings a genuine temporal dimension, in which events have passage.
It must be admitted that the impact of modern physics has made the past-present-future aspect of time seem less objective than of old. The universe certainly does consist of a vast system of spatio-temporal events related together in very complex and subtle manners. It is possible that the myriad46 "searchlights" of individual experiencing minds may travel in many different directions about the system, somewhat as in a four-handed game of Halma the four streams of individual pieces move across the board in four different directions. It is not inconceivable that some beings experience our physical universe "back to front," so that for them the law of entropy is reversed, and energy piles itself up into the stars.
But there is a difficulty in all these possibilities. They make nonsense of free choice. In ordinary life a man feels strongly that he could either do this or that. For instance, he could either plant an acorn101 in his garden or not. If he does, the universe may contain the career of a particular tree which would otherwise not exist. If freedom is real, the future cannot be predestined.
This consideration has made some philosophers believe that future events are non-existent in a sense in which past events are not non-existent. The past, they hold, is irrevocably what it is, and a part of reality. The present is the "growing-point" of the past. But the future is nothing at all until the course of events (including our own free choices) creates it.
It may be noted102 that such a view of time excludes pre-vision. If the future does not in any manner exist now, it is impossible to have access to it now. If our choosing creates one future rather than another, the future cannot be seen till it is brought into existence by choice.
If, on the other hand, we abandon the belief in arbitrary free choice this difficulty does not arise. The system of events can then be regarded as fixed eternally. Our choices are therefore predestinate as factors in the system. They are free only in the sense that, and in so far as, they depend only on our own (determinate) nature, and not on the nature of something other than ourselves which compels us against our determinate will.
When we take into account all these conflicting considerations it is very clear that no satisfactory account of time can yet be given. Some aspects of temporal experience point emphatically toward the absolute reality of the "passage" of events, and therefore of the past-present-future distinction. Other aspects point no less emphatically toward equality of status for all spatio-temporal events. In these circumstances some philosophers simply dismiss "passage" as sheer illusion. Others merely ignore the difficulties and insist on its absolute reality.
In accord with my deliberate policy of facing both ways when neither aspect is exclusively satisfactory, I suggest that the most promising6 way of dealing103 with the problem is to cling to both sets of facts while frankly104 admitting that we cannot reconcile them. We may then express our view by saying that in some sense, not yet definable, passage is an objective character, and yet in some sense, not yet definable, events are also supra-temporal, or have an eternal aspect. To this statement we may add the surmise that perhaps the trouble lies much deeper than human philosophy can ever probe. It may be that human mentality itself, the half-developed mode of human immediate experience, does not reveal enough of the nature of time to permit of a logically coherent theory of it. Roughly this is the view of the Absolute Idealists; but they were sometimes inclined to go further and believe that time was merely subjective. This view, as we have seen, is unreasonable.
The conviction that our normal temporal experience, though it has access to an objective character of the universe, is also radically105 incomplete and incoherent, raises the question whether there is any positive evidence of any more penetrating106 kind of experience. It leads, in fact, to an intellectual assessment107 of the claims of the mystics.
iii. Mysticism
Throughout this survey it has been borne in on us that intellectual knowledge, though reliable up to a point, is superficial, piecemeal108, and sometimes treacherous109; but hitherto we have barely noticed the claim that there is another kind of knowing which is penetrating, comprehensive, and infallible. I shall now briefly consider this claim as it is put forward by the mystics. European philosophy has been mainly intellectualistic in temper; Indian philosophy has been mainly mystical. The great European mystics have been moral leaders, but they have not been philosophers.
I shall consider mysticism only in the most general manner, and shall merely try to show what, in my view, is its relation to philosophy, which we have defined as the love and pursuit of wisdom.
The word "mystical" is used in two very different senses. In the more general sense it applies to any ideas which are not strictly rational but have an element of intuitive guesswork in them. In this sense "mystical" sometimes becomes synonymous with "superstitious110." In the stricter sense the word "mystical" applies to a special kind of non-rational experience, in which, it is claimed, the individual attains111 some degree of illumination or insight into the essential and normally hidden nature of reality. This insight is reported to be not merely a kind of knowing; it is the supreme112 achievement of knowing-feeling-striving in one all-fulfilling act. The "knowing" aspect of it is said to be not abstract, like intellectual knowing, but concrete, like sense-experience. In fact, in so far as it is knowledge, it is an immediate acquaintance with the hidden essence of a "reality" which is said to lie behind all ordinary and illusory experience.
The reports of the mystics vary greatly, but in spite of their differences they show a remarkable113 agreement about the general character of the experience. I shall consider only the features which are most general.
The mystic’s starting-point is often a condition of torturing self-contempt or of revulsion from the cruelty and injustice114 practiced by his fellow men. It is important to recognise that his motives116, like most human motives, are very complex. He certainly desires, amongst other things, personal salvation117 in some sense. Christians119 conceive this as eternal personal life, but some Indians reject this view. Another and a subtly entangled120 motive115 is spontaneous compassion121 and the desire for the spiritual fulfilment of others. Different from these motives is the self-oblivious admiration for virtue122 or for the spiritual way of living. In this mood the spiritual way of living is conceived not merely as a means to salvation but as an intrinsic good. Different again is the admiration or adoration123 or worship of a personal God, or of the universal Spirit, or of something quite indescribable save as the supremely124 holy object of worship. This may be conceived either in terms of love and tender intimacy125 or in terms of awe126 and even terror, or in both of these manners.
The aspirant127 to mystical experience is generally a highly self-conscious individual, and often highly other-conscious also. He seeks to escape from the bondage128 of the bodily hungers and of personal self-regard. And he seeks very often, but not always, to free others from this slavery. In Europe he is apt to say that he denies himself in order to save his soul, or find union with his God. In the East he generally longs to annihilate129 his separate self and lose himself in the universal spirit.
Two different impulses appear among the mystics, often in the same individual. The first is the tendency to withdraw from the world in order to concentrate on self-discipline for the sake of the desired self-mastery and self-transcendence. The other is the tendency to play an active part in the world, to find his self-discipline in heroic social service, to find self-transcendence through absorption in the lives of others. It is claimed that the greatest mystics, at any rate in the West, have been not world-forsakers but world-embracers. In the East too, I understand, it is recognised that the final and most lethal130 temptation, the final snare of self, which traps many noble spirits when they are well on their way, is the temptation to shun131 all mundane132 responsibilities and seek self-annihilation for purely selfish motives.
Mastery over the flesh and the self-regarding passions is sought by various kinds of self-discipline. It often begins with special exercises to acquire voluntary control of bodily functions, such as breathing and blood-circulation. It may include fasting and other forms of asceticism133, or actual "mortification134 of the flesh" by self-torture. It generally involves the religious exercises and ritual characteristic of the individual’s social environment. Good works among his fellow men may also play a large part in it. It may take the form of meditation135, in which the individual tries to concentrate his attention upon, or to yield himself in utter passivity to, the spiritualising influence of God, or of the Whole. Or he may seek by introspective meditation to discover hidden imperfections in his own nature, so that he may eradicate136 them by spiritual discipline.
By such methods the mystics have sought their goal. Each method contains its own peculiar snares137. Discipline of the flesh may turn into a perverse138 lust139 of self-torture or of spiteful cruelty to others. Every kind of self-denial may produce puritanical140 harshness. Good works may starve the inner life, and reduce the individual to a kind of charity-dealing robot. Meditation may lead to flight from social responsibility, and self-indulgence in a world of dreams; or to such a habit of self-analysis that the will is paralysed.
Amongst all these snares the traveller’s progress is bound to be fluctuating and slow. Very different experiences are reported by different individuals, but the underlying identity is unmistakable. The story generally includes a phase, sometimes known as "the dark night of the soul," in which all contact with the universal seems to be lost, and the spirit sinks into despair. Subsequently the adventurer struggles out of this slough141 of despond to find himself nearer to his goal than he expected. Little by little he may gain complete detachment from all worldly desires and be able to meet every issue of fate not merely with stoical resignation but with joyful142 acceptance. For all things have now come to seem particular manifestations143 of the universal spirit in which he desires to lose himself.
The final illumination and self-transcendence are of course described very differently by mystics of Eastern and Western culture. All differences, it may be, are differences in the interpretation144 of experiences that are essentially identical and indescribable. Such, perhaps, is even the seemingly radical difference between those who claim union of the personal self with a personal deity145 and those who speak of the annihilation of the personal self in the impersonal146 Whole. We must bear in mind always that any experience that is beatific147, and also too subtle for literal description, is likely to be interpreted in terms of the most cherished ideas of the individual’s traditional culture. Consequently, in Christian118 lands and ages it is almost inevitable148 that interpretation should conform to the ideals of personal immortality and union with a personal God.
In general the ecstatic experience, which is the mystic’s supreme reward, is said to give profound insight into the essential nature of reality, along with a stammering149 inability to describe what has been revealed, save in the most metaphorical151 and paradoxical terms. Sometimes the reality thus revealed is referred to in terms of dread152, and even terror, as the divine and ruthless "Other," rightly careless of man and his petty desires. In some cultures, on the other hand, it is said to be the divine, personified Love, which embraces, or gathers up into itself, the spirit of the individual lover of this all-loving God. In other cultures it appears as the impersonal and wholly dispassionate universal spirit, or the underlying reality which constitutes the unity of all things. One point on which there is general agreement is that in the supreme experience time is in some sense transcended153. What is discovered is a reality which is eternal.
The effect of mystical experience on the individual’s ordinary life is claimed to be far-reaching. All his conduct is irradiated by memory of his vision. He is able to surmount154 all troubles with fortitude155 and joy. He behaves with increased wisdom, sincerity156, courage, and devotion to whatever social ideal he has espoused157. He is spurred by a new sense of the reality that informs all ordinary phenomenal things. Even sense-perception may reveal unexpected significance to him, significance of the essential nature of the universe. He has an immensely increased capacity for delighting in everything. In particular he may discover an intrinsic worth and lovableness in his fellow human beings, even in those who, in their blindness, pursue evil ends. In short, he becomes a much more sensitive, more practical, more alert, more integrated, more genuinely social personality. Such is the claim.
It is easy to dismiss these contentions158 as mere delusion159. It is easy to point out that alcohol, nitrous oxide160, opium161 and other drugs may induce ecstatic moods and beatific visions remarkably162 like some aspects of mystical experience. Simple starvation also may cause a striking mental lucidity and exaltation. Most remarkable is the well-attested fact that the onset163 of an epileptic attack may be accompanied by a conviction of profound insight and beatitude. Such evidence suggests that the mystic merely deludes164 himself into "projecting" upon the external universe a sense of extreme personal well-being165 which has been caused in him by nothing more exalted166 than glandular167 action in his own body.
Another argument against the objective validity of mystical experience may be derived from modern psychology168. It is obvious that the language in which some mystics describe their experience is tinged169 with sexual metaphor150. This vaunted union with the divine may after all be merely a hallucination bred of suppressed sexual craving170. Or alternatively it may be a grandiose171 expression of primitive172 self-regard, or of the infantile longing173 for parental care, or for return to the womb, and annihilation.
The cogency174 of all such arguments is immensely enhanced by the contemporary disposition175 to regard explanations in terms of scientific concepts as more credible than any other. We have already noted that the supposed metaphysical implications of science are based on the hypostatisation of the physical categories and the dismissal of all others as unreal. But though we must discount this prejudice in favour of the physical, we must not rush to the other extreme of accepting the mystic’s claims uncritically. We must consider whether they can in fact be properly accounted for in terms of familiar concepts. What then must our judgment176 be? What is the reasonable verdict from the point of view of the plain man who has not himself had any mystical experience?
The mystic can account for the physically-induced seemingly mystical experiences by arguing that of course there is a physical aspect to the process of mastering the flesh, and that some of the phenomena40 produced during self-discipline may also be produced by purely physical causes. He may go further, and say that these physically-induced experiences really are approximations to the authentic177 mystical experience, though so oddly caused. In fact, if he has already made up his mind about the validity of mystical experience, he need not be disturbed by the arguments derived from physiology178, nor yet by those derived from psychology.
But ought he to have made up his mind? Or rather, ought we, who do not share his experience, to accept his verdict? The main facts to remember are: that a large number of persons in all countries and all ages have claimed mystical experience; that in spite of diversity their reports show on the whole a surprising agreement; that many of them, though certainly not all, have been persons well above the average of intelligence and integrity; that some of them are the world’s greatest saints, moral teachers, religious and socially dynamic leaders; that among ordinary people in most phases of the world’s history though not in our own, the belief in, and the very fragmentary apprehension179 of, some kind of mystical reality has been a source of strength. It is true, of course, that, like other good things, mystical experience may become a snare. It may be used as an occasion for flight from the responsibilities of this life. Undoubtedly180 this has often happened. But such withdrawal181 is emphatically condemned182 by some of the greatest mystics. It is possible that it occurs only in individuals and in cultural phases of somewhat depressed183 spiritual vigour184.
In view of all these considerations it seems rash to accept the simple materialistic185 theory that all mystical experience is merely an illusion. It seems on the whole probable that the mystics do have access of some kind to something which is missed in ordinary experience, and may have a supremely invigorating effect on the individual, and therefore on his behaviour.
On the other hand, all intellectual descriptions and interpretations186 of the mystical experience must be regarded with great suspicion. It is after all very unlikely that human thought and language, which are adapted to much simpler, more commonplace experience, should be able to cope with experience of a very different order. Descriptions and interpretations can be intelligible only to those who have at least some slight immediate acquaintance with the matters described.
The plain man may reasonably feel that this conclusion is both vague and unconvincing. He may say, "You may be right. But the whole thing may be moonshine. I have no personal knowledge of any such experience, and I shall continue to regard the mystic’s claims with grave suspicion."
But has he no personal acquaintance with mystical experience of any kind? Have not very many fairly sensitive people some acquaintance at least with a mystical aspect of normal experience? In our materialistically-obsessed civilisation187 it is difficult for them to recognise the fact. Perhaps many who have it overlook it. There are many kinds of normal experience which to the sincerely observing mind do seem to reveal an aspect which deserves the name mystical. In these experiences some particular fact is strongly felt to be in some incomprehensible manner significant of the essential nature of the universe. The most obvious example of this kind of experience is perhaps youthful falling in love. Sometimes, but not always, the lover feels very strongly that either love itself or the nature of the loved person gives him a new and penetrating insight. It is easy to dismiss this seemingly mystical aspect as merely a product of uncritical emotion. It is always fatally easy to dismiss unobtrusive facts that do not accord with our theories. Another kind of experience which may have a mystical flavour is the appreciation of "natural beauty," as Wordsworth knew. Less obviously, and less frequently, intellectual exploration may give the same impression, when matters which were obscure suddenly assume a far-reaching pattern. Artistic188 creation and appreciation are often felt to have a mystical aspect over and above their normal aesthetic189 character. Most strikingly this is revealed in tragic190 art. In watching a great play, in which the leading characters present themselves both as unique individuals and as symbols of humanity striving to mould its destiny, we are torn between human sympathy for the individual and acceptance of his tragic fate. The experience is not purely aesthetic; or if it is, then the aesthetic itself has a mystical aspect. We feel that in some obscure way the tissue of fictitious191 events symbolises a terrible and yet somehow a right characteristic of the universe. It is too easy (to repeat) to explain away this aspect of tragedy, in terms, let us say, of suppressed sadism or some other unwitting craving.
Perhaps the most impressive of all the ways in which the normal person may sometimes gain a hint of mystical experience is in grave personal danger or pain, or distress192 of any kind, and even in the agony of pity for one who is loved and is suffering. On such occasions one may find oneself strangely divided. The normal self is strained almost to breaking-point by unbearable193 terror or pain or compassion; and yet, even in the case of compassion, one sees the dread event as a revealing symbol of reality, and as such one accepts it, not merely with resignation but with a sense that even this is involved in the terrible but somehow right nature of the universe. And so, even while one is perhaps behaving with panic terror or horror, one is also, in some strange manner, fundamentally peaceful and glad.
I suggest the following tentative conclusion about this whole subject. In mystical experience, of all sorts from the humblest to the most exalted, the human mind gropingly reaches out to a mode of apprehension very different from all "normal" experience. This kind of apprehension is attained194 confusedly and precariously195 by quite a large number of people in the course of normal experiences, though it is seldom recognised as such. A very small number, whose mental development reaches to the extreme limit of human capacity, enjoy a much fuller measure of it, and can know it with much greater clarity and assurance. I suggest further that mystical experience is both one of the most dangerous moral snares and one of the most important sources of moral strength, not only for those who go far in it but also for all normally intelligent and sensitive persons.
But what of the philosophy of mystical experience? How are we to think of it? Is it really a kind of knowledge, a peculiar insight into hidden reality? We may perhaps more truly think of it in a somewhat different manner. In every kind of mystical experience, from that most closely associated with normal experience to that which is described by the great mystics, there occurs some kind of self-discipline and some kind of consequent vision. But the vision, I should say, is not most satisfactorily described as a discovery of hidden reality; it is rather a discovery of a new kind of value or worth or excellence196 or beauty in the normally experienced world. This rightness (we have no more satisfactory word) was formerly197 overlooked, and now suddenly confronts the mind. In fact, mystical experience constitutes essentially a new and more awakened198 way of feeling about the world. But "feeling about" must not be taken to mean a purely subjective attitude. It must mean a subjective attitude which is appropriate, objectively justified14 by, the real nature of the universe in relation to the real nature of the individual mind.
In this theory of mystical experience there is a very serious difficulty. How can the mystical attitude of delighted acceptance of the universe as perfect be reconciled with the moral attitude which distinguishes between good and bad, right and wrong, and recognises an obligation to struggle for the good against the bad, seeking thus to improve a universe which is regarded as very far from perfect? Plainly there is a logical conflict here, and it is useless to pretend that there is not.
I have argued that moral right and wrong depend on the intuited goodness of the free activity of conscious beings, and particularly on the fulfilling of personality-in-community. It almost seems as though the mystic, and the plain man in his rare half-mystical apprehension, had access to another kind of "good," independent of conscious beings, a "good" which somehow embraced ordinary good and evil, right and wrong. This view, it must be admitted, is both unintelligible199 and dangerous. It is dangerous because it may lead to a complacent200 acquiescence201 in the misfortunes of others, as being "all in the picture," all needed for the perfection of the universe.
On the other hand, it is undoubtedly a psychological fact that, in spite of the seeming logical inconsistency, mystical experience does very often clarify the moral consciousness and strengthen moral behaviour. Gautama Buddha202, Socrates, Jesus Christ, Mohammed, and, I believe, Spinoza are outstanding examples. It is not impossible that Lenin, too, though he would have been indignant at the suggestion, owed his strength partly to unrecognised mystical experience.
It may be that at the human level of mental development a satisfactory intellectual solution of this conflict between moral protest and mystical acceptance is impossible. But we may grope toward a solution in the following manner. We may regard the human mind as having two aspects. In the one aspect a man is a finite individual; and his concern, his whole duty, is to champion the cause of personality-in-community in the human world. And this human enterprise is probably one minor203 theme in the universal enterprise of the advancement204 of the spirit through personality-in-community in a host of worlds. It may be that at some date in the history of the cosmos this enterprise will be fulfilled in the attainment205 of the perfection of knowing-feeling-striving through the experience of some cosmical society of worlds. Or perhaps this is too trite206 a way of conceiving the culmination207 of the cosmical process. Perhaps the spiritual perfection of the cosmos as a whole involves no such triumph of the enterprise of finite minds, but rather their partial defeat, much as the well-being of a living organism involves all sorts of internal, intra-organic conflicts, strains, and partial defeats. Of this we know nothing. But clearly the human individual in one of his aspects feels called to play a minute part in the great widespread struggle for personality-in-community.
Let us suppose, however, that he has also another aspect, in which he finds precarious contact with the eternal and perfected spirit of the cosmos, and in which his will tends to conform to that spirit, in the sense that he is no longer enslaved to the cravings of the separate self, or even to the service of the ideal of personality-in-community, but is able, so to speak, haltingly to feel all things from the universal point of view. In this mode of experience he recognises intuitively that the cosmos is an overwhelmingly glorious thing, and that all the struggle and defeat and agony of finite minds, no less than their partial triumph, are justified by the perfection of the whole. He realises that it is foolish and impious to demand that the universe shall be moral, or that the universal spirit shall be moral, or that "God" shall be good. These, he feels, do not exist for the sake of morality. On the contrary, morality exists for them.
In some such manner we may try to cope with the seeming logical conflict between the two fundamental religious experiences: between the moral protest, which seeks to alter the universe, and the ecstatic acceptance of the universe, with all its glory and its shame, its joy and its distress, its beauty, and all its squalor.
But if this intellectual reconciliation208 is unsound, which it may well be, let us never forget that these two experiences do in fact support one another, and that for the wise conduct of practical life both are needed.
1 immortality | |
n.不死,不朽 | |
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2 enquiring | |
a.爱打听的,显得好奇的 | |
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3 surmise | |
v./n.猜想,推测 | |
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4 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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5 hesitation | |
n.犹豫,踌躇 | |
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6 promising | |
adj.有希望的,有前途的 | |
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7 purely | |
adv.纯粹地,完全地 | |
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8 linguistic | |
adj.语言的,语言学的 | |
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9 applied | |
adj.应用的;v.应用,适用 | |
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10 decided | |
adj.决定了的,坚决的;明显的,明确的 | |
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11 ethics | |
n.伦理学;伦理观,道德标准 | |
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12 radical | |
n.激进份子,原子团,根号;adj.根本的,激进的,彻底的 | |
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13 ethical | |
adj.伦理的,道德的,合乎道德的 | |
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14 justified | |
a.正当的,有理的 | |
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15 frustration | |
n.挫折,失败,失效,落空 | |
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16 complexity | |
n.复杂(性),复杂的事物 | |
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17 lucidity | |
n.明朗,清晰,透明 | |
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18 integration | |
n.一体化,联合,结合 | |
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19 distinguished | |
adj.卓越的,杰出的,著名的 | |
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20 distinctively | |
adv.特殊地,区别地 | |
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21 mentality | |
n.心理,思想,脑力 | |
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22 unity | |
n.团结,联合,统一;和睦,协调 | |
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23 dominant | |
adj.支配的,统治的;占优势的;显性的;n.主因,要素,主要的人(或物);显性基因 | |
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24 precarious | |
adj.不安定的,靠不住的;根据不足的 | |
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25 kin | |
n.家族,亲属,血缘关系;adj.亲属关系的,同类的 | |
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26 futile | |
adj.无效的,无用的,无希望的 | |
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27 strictly | |
adv.严厉地,严格地;严密地 | |
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28 essentially | |
adv.本质上,实质上,基本上 | |
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29 materialism | |
n.[哲]唯物主义,唯物论;物质至上 | |
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30 mechanism | |
n.机械装置;机构,结构 | |
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31 determined | |
adj.坚定的;有决心的 | |
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32 extravagant | |
adj.奢侈的;过分的;(言行等)放肆的 | |
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33 emergence | |
n.浮现,显现,出现,(植物)突出体 | |
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34 teleology | |
n.目的论 | |
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35 configurations | |
n.[化学]结构( configuration的名词复数 );构造;(计算机的)配置;构形(原子在分子中的相对空间位置) | |
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36 entities | |
实体对像; 实体,独立存在体,实际存在物( entity的名词复数 ) | |
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37 derived | |
vi.起源;由来;衍生;导出v.得到( derive的过去式和过去分词 );(从…中)得到获得;源于;(从…中)提取 | |
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38 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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39 snare | |
n.陷阱,诱惑,圈套;(去除息肉或者肿瘤的)勒除器;响弦,小军鼓;vt.以陷阱捕获,诱惑 | |
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40 phenomena | |
n.现象 | |
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41 infinitely | |
adv.无限地,无穷地 | |
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42 synthetic | |
adj.合成的,人工的;综合的;n.人工制品 | |
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43 vice | |
n.坏事;恶习;[pl.]台钳,老虎钳;adj.副的 | |
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44 scattered | |
adj.分散的,稀疏的;散步的;疏疏落落的 | |
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45 myriads | |
n.无数,极大数量( myriad的名词复数 ) | |
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46 myriad | |
adj.无数的;n.无数,极大数量 | |
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47 subtlety | |
n.微妙,敏锐,精巧;微妙之处,细微的区别 | |
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48 unified | |
(unify 的过去式和过去分词); 统一的; 统一标准的; 一元化的 | |
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49 pointed | |
adj.尖的,直截了当的 | |
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50 subjective | |
a.主观(上)的,个人的 | |
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51 admiration | |
n.钦佩,赞美,羡慕 | |
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52 whim | |
n.一时的兴致,突然的念头;奇想,幻想 | |
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53 implicit | |
a.暗示的,含蓄的,不明晰的,绝对的 | |
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54 explicit | |
adj.详述的,明确的;坦率的;显然的 | |
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55 intercourse | |
n.性交;交流,交往,交际 | |
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56 utterly | |
adv.完全地,绝对地 | |
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57 appreciation | |
n.评价;欣赏;感谢;领会,理解;价格上涨 | |
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58 underlying | |
adj.在下面的,含蓄的,潜在的 | |
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59 unreasonable | |
adj.不讲道理的,不合情理的,过度的 | |
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60 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
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61 fixed | |
adj.固定的,不变的,准备好的;(计算机)固定的 | |
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62 recede | |
vi.退(去),渐渐远去;向后倾斜,缩进 | |
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63 maker | |
n.制造者,制造商 | |
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64 sketched | |
v.草拟(sketch的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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65 cosmos | |
n.宇宙;秩序,和谐 | |
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66 implicitly | |
adv. 含蓄地, 暗中地, 毫不保留地 | |
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67 consensus | |
n.(意见等的)一致,一致同意,共识 | |
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68 briefly | |
adv.简单地,简短地 | |
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69 anthropological | |
adj.人类学的 | |
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70 astronomical | |
adj.天文学的,(数字)极大的 | |
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71 immediate | |
adj.立即的;直接的,最接近的;紧靠的 | |
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72 credible | |
adj.可信任的,可靠的 | |
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73 swarm | |
n.(昆虫)等一大群;vi.成群飞舞;蜂拥而入 | |
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74 stationary | |
adj.固定的,静止不动的 | |
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75 literally | |
adv.照字面意义,逐字地;确实 | |
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76 specious | |
adj.似是而非的;adv.似是而非地 | |
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77 filament | |
n.细丝;长丝;灯丝 | |
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78 pulsation | |
n.脉搏,悸动,脉动;搏动性 | |
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79 epoch | |
n.(新)时代;历元 | |
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80 aeon | |
n.极长的时间;永久 | |
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81 vibration | |
n.颤动,振动;摆动 | |
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82 eternity | |
n.不朽,来世;永恒,无穷 | |
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83 illicit | |
adj.非法的,禁止的,不正当的 | |
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84 parental | |
adj.父母的;父的;母的 | |
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85 spatial | |
adj.空间的,占据空间的 | |
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86 boundless | |
adj.无限的;无边无际的;巨大的 | |
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87 intelligible | |
adj.可理解的,明白易懂的,清楚的 | |
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88 accurately | |
adv.准确地,精确地 | |
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89 vaguely | |
adv.含糊地,暖昧地 | |
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90 constituent | |
n.选民;成分,组分;adj.组成的,构成的 | |
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91 irrelevant | |
adj.不恰当的,无关系的,不相干的 | |
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92 tempting | |
a.诱人的, 吸引人的 | |
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93 illuminating | |
a.富于启发性的,有助阐明的 | |
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94 prehistoric | |
adj.(有记载的)历史以前的,史前的,古老的 | |
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95 apparently | |
adv.显然地;表面上,似乎 | |
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96 convertible | |
adj.可改变的,可交换,同意义的;n.有活动摺篷的汽车 | |
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97 qualitatively | |
质量上 | |
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98 nay | |
adv.不;n.反对票,投反对票者 | |
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99 deluded | |
v.欺骗,哄骗( delude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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100 simultaneously | |
adv.同时发生地,同时进行地 | |
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101 acorn | |
n.橡实,橡子 | |
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102 noted | |
adj.著名的,知名的 | |
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103 dealing | |
n.经商方法,待人态度 | |
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104 frankly | |
adv.坦白地,直率地;坦率地说 | |
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105 radically | |
ad.根本地,本质地 | |
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106 penetrating | |
adj.(声音)响亮的,尖锐的adj.(气味)刺激的adj.(思想)敏锐的,有洞察力的 | |
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107 assessment | |
n.评价;评估;对财产的估价,被估定的金额 | |
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108 piecemeal | |
adj.零碎的;n.片,块;adv.逐渐地;v.弄成碎块 | |
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109 treacherous | |
adj.不可靠的,有暗藏的危险的;adj.背叛的,背信弃义的 | |
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110 superstitious | |
adj.迷信的 | |
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111 attains | |
(通常经过努力)实现( attain的第三人称单数 ); 达到; 获得; 达到(某年龄、水平、状况) | |
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112 supreme | |
adj.极度的,最重要的;至高的,最高的 | |
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113 remarkable | |
adj.显著的,异常的,非凡的,值得注意的 | |
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114 injustice | |
n.非正义,不公正,不公平,侵犯(别人的)权利 | |
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115 motive | |
n.动机,目的;adv.发动的,运动的 | |
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116 motives | |
n.动机,目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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117 salvation | |
n.(尤指基督)救世,超度,拯救,解困 | |
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118 Christian | |
adj.基督教徒的;n.基督教徒 | |
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119 Christians | |
n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
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120 entangled | |
adj.卷入的;陷入的;被缠住的;缠在一起的v.使某人(某物/自己)缠绕,纠缠于(某物中),使某人(自己)陷入(困难或复杂的环境中)( entangle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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121 compassion | |
n.同情,怜悯 | |
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122 virtue | |
n.德行,美德;贞操;优点;功效,效力 | |
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123 adoration | |
n.爱慕,崇拜 | |
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124 supremely | |
adv.无上地,崇高地 | |
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125 intimacy | |
n.熟悉,亲密,密切关系,亲昵的言行 | |
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126 awe | |
n.敬畏,惊惧;vt.使敬畏,使惊惧 | |
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127 aspirant | |
n.热望者;adj.渴望的 | |
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128 bondage | |
n.奴役,束缚 | |
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129 annihilate | |
v.使无效;毁灭;取消 | |
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130 lethal | |
adj.致死的;毁灭性的 | |
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131 shun | |
vt.避开,回避,避免 | |
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132 mundane | |
adj.平凡的;尘世的;宇宙的 | |
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133 asceticism | |
n.禁欲主义 | |
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134 mortification | |
n.耻辱,屈辱 | |
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135 meditation | |
n.熟虑,(尤指宗教的)默想,沉思,(pl.)冥想录 | |
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136 eradicate | |
v.根除,消灭,杜绝 | |
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137 snares | |
n.陷阱( snare的名词复数 );圈套;诱人遭受失败(丢脸、损失等)的东西;诱惑物v.用罗网捕捉,诱陷,陷害( snare的第三人称单数 ) | |
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138 perverse | |
adj.刚愎的;坚持错误的,行为反常的 | |
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139 lust | |
n.性(淫)欲;渴(欲)望;vi.对…有强烈的欲望 | |
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140 puritanical | |
adj.极端拘谨的;道德严格的 | |
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141 slough | |
v.蜕皮,脱落,抛弃 | |
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142 joyful | |
adj.欢乐的,令人欢欣的 | |
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143 manifestations | |
n.表示,显示(manifestation的复数形式) | |
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144 interpretation | |
n.解释,说明,描述;艺术处理 | |
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145 deity | |
n.神,神性;被奉若神明的人(或物) | |
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146 impersonal | |
adj.无个人感情的,与个人无关的,非人称的 | |
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147 beatific | |
adj.快乐的,有福的 | |
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148 inevitable | |
adj.不可避免的,必然发生的 | |
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149 stammering | |
v.结巴地说出( stammer的现在分词 ) | |
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150 metaphor | |
n.隐喻,暗喻 | |
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151 metaphorical | |
a.隐喻的,比喻的 | |
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152 dread | |
vt.担忧,忧虑;惧怕,不敢;n.担忧,畏惧 | |
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153 transcended | |
超出或超越(经验、信念、描写能力等)的范围( transcend的过去式和过去分词 ); 优于或胜过… | |
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154 surmount | |
vt.克服;置于…顶上 | |
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155 fortitude | |
n.坚忍不拔;刚毅 | |
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156 sincerity | |
n.真诚,诚意;真实 | |
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157 espoused | |
v.(决定)支持,拥护(目标、主张等)( espouse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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158 contentions | |
n.竞争( contention的名词复数 );争夺;争论;论点 | |
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159 delusion | |
n.谬见,欺骗,幻觉,迷惑 | |
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160 oxide | |
n.氧化物 | |
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161 opium | |
n.鸦片;adj.鸦片的 | |
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162 remarkably | |
ad.不同寻常地,相当地 | |
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163 onset | |
n.进攻,袭击,开始,突然开始 | |
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164 deludes | |
v.欺骗,哄骗( delude的第三人称单数 ) | |
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165 well-being | |
n.安康,安乐,幸福 | |
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166 exalted | |
adj.(地位等)高的,崇高的;尊贵的,高尚的 | |
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167 glandular | |
adj.腺体的 | |
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168 psychology | |
n.心理,心理学,心理状态 | |
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169 tinged | |
v.(使)发丁丁声( ting的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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170 craving | |
n.渴望,热望 | |
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171 grandiose | |
adj.宏伟的,宏大的,堂皇的,铺张的 | |
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172 primitive | |
adj.原始的;简单的;n.原(始)人,原始事物 | |
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173 longing | |
n.(for)渴望 | |
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174 cogency | |
n.说服力;adj.有说服力的 | |
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175 disposition | |
n.性情,性格;意向,倾向;排列,部署 | |
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176 judgment | |
n.审判;判断力,识别力,看法,意见 | |
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177 authentic | |
a.真的,真正的;可靠的,可信的,有根据的 | |
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178 physiology | |
n.生理学,生理机能 | |
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179 apprehension | |
n.理解,领悟;逮捕,拘捕;忧虑 | |
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180 undoubtedly | |
adv.确实地,无疑地 | |
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181 withdrawal | |
n.取回,提款;撤退,撤军;收回,撤销 | |
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182 condemned | |
adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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183 depressed | |
adj.沮丧的,抑郁的,不景气的,萧条的 | |
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184 vigour | |
(=vigor)n.智力,体力,精力 | |
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185 materialistic | |
a.唯物主义的,物质享乐主义的 | |
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186 interpretations | |
n.解释( interpretation的名词复数 );表演;演绎;理解 | |
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187 civilisation | |
n.文明,文化,开化,教化 | |
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188 artistic | |
adj.艺术(家)的,美术(家)的;善于艺术创作的 | |
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189 aesthetic | |
adj.美学的,审美的,有美感 | |
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190 tragic | |
adj.悲剧的,悲剧性的,悲惨的 | |
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191 fictitious | |
adj.虚构的,假设的;空头的 | |
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192 distress | |
n.苦恼,痛苦,不舒适;不幸;vt.使悲痛 | |
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193 unbearable | |
adj.不能容忍的;忍受不住的 | |
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194 attained | |
(通常经过努力)实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 ); 达到; 获得; 达到(某年龄、水平、状况) | |
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195 precariously | |
adv.不安全地;危险地;碰机会地;不稳定地 | |
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196 excellence | |
n.优秀,杰出,(pl.)优点,美德 | |
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197 formerly | |
adv.从前,以前 | |
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198 awakened | |
v.(使)醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 );(使)觉醒;弄醒;(使)意识到 | |
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199 unintelligible | |
adj.无法了解的,难解的,莫明其妙的 | |
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200 complacent | |
adj.自满的;自鸣得意的 | |
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201 acquiescence | |
n.默许;顺从 | |
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202 Buddha | |
n.佛;佛像;佛陀 | |
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203 minor | |
adj.较小(少)的,较次要的;n.辅修学科;vi.辅修 | |
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204 advancement | |
n.前进,促进,提升 | |
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205 attainment | |
n.达到,到达;[常pl.]成就,造诣 | |
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206 trite | |
adj.陈腐的 | |
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207 culmination | |
n.顶点;最高潮 | |
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208 reconciliation | |
n.和解,和谐,一致 | |
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