The Edinburgh Lectures on Mental Science

By Thomas Troward, Late Divisional Judge, Punjab, 1904

XII. THE WILL - 2

These considerations naturally lead us to the subject of concentration. I
have just now pointed out that all duly controlled mental action consists
in holding the mind in one of three attitudes; but there is a fourth mental
condition, which is that of letting our mental functions run on without our
will directing them to any definite purpose. It is on this word purpose
that we must fix our whole attention; and instead of dissipating our
energies, we must follow an intelligent method of concentration. The, word
means being gathered up at a centre, and the centre of anything is that
point in which all its forces are equally balanced. To concentrate
therefore means first to bring our minds into a condition of equilibrium
which will enable us to consciously direct the flow of spirit to a
definitely recognized purpose, and then carefully to guard our thoughts
from inducing a flow in the opposite direction. We must always bear in mind
that we are dealing with a wonderful potential energy which is not yet
differentiated into any particular mode, and that by the action of our mind
we can differentiate it into any specific mode of activity that we will;
and by keeping our thought fixed on the fact that the inflow of this energy
is taking place and that by our mental attitude we are determining its
direction, we shall gradually realize a corresponding externalization.
Proper concentration, therefore, does not consist of strenuous effort which
exhausts the nervous system and defeats its own object by suggesting the
consciousness of an adverse force to be fought against, and thus creating
the adverse circumstances we dread; but in shutting out all thoughts of a
kind that would disperse the spiritual nucleus we are forming and dwelling
cheerfully on the knowledge that, because the law is certain in its action,
our desire is certain of accomplishment. The other great principle to be
remembered is that concentration is for the purpose of determining the
quality we are going to give to the previously undifferentiated energy
rather than to arrange the specific circumstances of its manifestation.
That is the work of the creative energy itself, which will build up its
own forms of expression quite naturally if we allow it, thus saving us a
great deal of needless anxiety. What we really want is expansion in a
certain direction, whether of health, wealth, or what not: and so long as
we get this, what does it matter whether it reaches us through some channel
which we thought we could reckon upon or through some other whose existence
we had not suspected. It is the fact that we are concentrating energy of a
particular kind for a particular purpose that we should fix our minds upon,
and not look upon any specific details as essential to the accomplishment
of our object.

These are the two golden rules regarding concentration; but we must not
suppose that because we have to be on our guard against idle drifting there
is to be no such thing as repose; on the contrary it is during periods of
repose that we accumulate strength for action; but repose does not mean a
state of purposelessness. As pure spirit the subjective mind never rests:
it is only the objective mind in its connection with the physical body that
needs rest; and though there are no doubt times when the greatest possible
rest is to be obtained by stopping the action, of our conscious thought
altogether, the more generally advisable method is by changing the
direction of the thought and, instead of centering it upon something we
intend to do, letting it dwell quietly upon what we are. This direction
of thought might, of course, develop into the deepest philosophical
speculation, but it is not necessary that we should be always either
consciously projecting our forces to produce some external effect or
working out the details of some metaphysical problem; but we may simply
realize ourselves as part of the universal livingness and thus gain a quiet
centralization, which, though maintained by a conscious act of the
volition, is the very essence of rest. From this standpoint we see that all
is Life and all is Good, and that Nature, from her clearly visible surface
to her most arcane depths, is one vast storehouse of life and good entirely
devoted to our individual use. We have the key to all her treasures, and we
can now apply our knowledge of the law of being without entering into all
those details which are only needed for purposes of study, and doing so we
find it results in our having acquired the consciousness of our oneness
with the whole. This is the great secret: and when we have once fathomed
it we can enjoy our possession of the whole, or of any part of it, because
by our recognition we have made it, and can increasingly make it, our own.
Whatever most appeals to us at any particular time or place is that mode of
the universal living spirit with which at that moment we are most in touch,
and realizing this, we shall draw from it streams of vital energy which
will make the very sensation of livingness a joy and will radiate from us
as a sphere of vibration that can deflect all injurious suggestion on
whatever plane. We may not have literary, artistic, or scientific skill to
present to others the results of our communings with Nature, but the joy of
this sympathetic indrawing will nevertheless produce a corresponding
outflow manifesting itself in the happier look and kindlier mien of him who
thus realizes his oneness with every aspect of the whole. He realizes–and
this is the great point in that attitude of mind which is not directed to
any specific external object–that, for himself, he is, and always must be
the centre of all this galaxy of Life, and thus he contemplates himself as
seated at the centre of infinitude, not an infinitude of blank space, but
pulsating with living being, in all of which he knows that the true essence
is nothing but good. This is the very opposite to a selfish
self-centredness; it, is the centre where we find that we both receive from
all and flow out to all. Apart from this principle of circulation there is
no true life, and if we contemplate our central position only as affording
us greater advantages for in-taking, we have missed the whole point of our
studies by missing the real nature of the Life-principle, which is action
and re-action. If we would have life enter into us, we ourselves must enter
into life–enter into the spirit of it, just as we must enter into the
spirit of a book or a game to enjoy it. There can be no action at a centre
only. There must be a perpetual flowing out towards the circumference, and
thence back again to the centre to maintain a vital activity; otherwise
collapse must ensue either from anaemia or congestion. But if we realize
the reciprocal nature of the vital pulsation, and that the outflowing
consists in the habit of mind which gives itself to the good it sees in
others, rather than in any specific actions, then we shall find that the
cultivation of this disposition will provide innumerable avenues for the
universal livingness to flow through us, whether as giving or receiving,
which we had never before suspected: and this action and re-action will so
build up our own vitality that each day will find us more thoroughly alive
than any that had preceded it. This, then, is the attitude of repose in
which we may enjoy all the beauties of science, literature and art or may
peacefully commune with the spirit of nature without the aid of any third
mind to act as its interpreter, which is still a purposeful attitude
although not directed to a specific object: we have not allowed the will to
relax its control, but have merely altered its direction; so that for
action and repose alike we find that our strength lies in our recognition
of the unity of the spirit and of ourselves as individual concentrations of
it.