There are days when all these details seem to me a
dream--when I wonder at the desk under my hand, at my body itself--when
I ask myself if there is a street before my house, and if all this
geographical and topographical phantasmagoria is indeed real. Time and
space become then mere specks; I become a sharer in a purely spiritual
existence; I see myself _sub specie oeternitatis_.
Is not mind simply that which enables us to merge finite reality in the
infinite possibility around it? Or, to put it differently, is not mind
the universal virtuality, the universe latent? If so, its zero would be
the germ of the infinite, which is expressed mathematically by the
double zero (00).
Deduction: that the mind may experience the infinite in itself; that in
the human individual there arises sometimes the divine spark which
reveals to him the existence of the original, fundamental, principal
Being, within which all is contained like a series within its generating
formula. The universe is but a radiation of mind; and the radiations of
the Divine mind are for us more than appearances; they have a reality
parallel to our own. The radiations of our mind are imperfect
reflections from the great show of fireworks set in motion by Brahma,
and great art is great only because of its conformities with the Divine
order--with that which is.
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