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N. Meade Layne (1882-1961)
THE BORDERLAND EXPERIMENTER
EXPERIMENT: EVOKING IMAGES
by Meade Layne, M.A.
From The Journal of the American Society for Psychical Research, Vol. XXX, No. 9, Sept. 1936.
The purpose of the present paper is to set down, in as impersonal a manner as possible, certain facts connected with what is known as “meditation without argumentation” – or, more popularly, as “entering the silence.” Data of this sort are not lacking, but it is nearly always vitiated by some bias of the observer. The experimenter usually has some religious or mystical point of view, and interprets his experiences in accordance with it. There is a real lack of “cold-blooded” reporting of such experiments, while on the other hand the data involved possess a genuine psychological interest.
There are various methods, familiar to most readers, for securing the required mental control. The one most practicable in my own case consisted merely in first concentrating the attention on a monotonous and repetitive sound, such as the ticking of a watch. After five or ten minutes of this, the sound was muffled and an attempt made to hold the mind entirely free from images and thought sequences. In this condition, the images of the unconscious appear freely. The phenomenon is of course familiar to most of us, especially at the borders of sleep. But it should be emphasized that for purposes of observation the mind must be not only “blank” to ordinary thinking, but also especially alert and watchful. The slightest drowsiness defeats the purpose entirely.
Interest in images arising under such conditions inheres (1) in the symbolism, and its apparent future as well as back-reference; (2) In the comparison of the meditation images with dreams, which they resemble in some respects, but differ from greatly in other ways; (3) In the mixed origin of the images, and the impossibility of finding any association or pattern-relation for many of them; (4) In the illusion of objectivity, or rather the almost total disappearance of any sense of distinction between subjective and objective forms; (5) In color effects, perspective and other details; (6) In the sense of what may be called mental structure, as of overlying zones of consciousness perceptible at the same moment. There are also (7) various phenomena such as the appearance of white vapors, sounds and lights, presumably of a “subjective” order. In this connection the fact should be emphasized (since it is too seldom noted explicitly) that the observation of unconscious or subconscious images is itself a kind of clairvoyance, and is the first step in the development of that power. Since clairvoyance, along with telepathy and other forms of extra-sensory perception, is now by way of being definitely recognized as a fundamental datum of science, the term can presumably be used without awakening prejudice.
It should also be stated frankly that many experiences, in experiments of this sort, are related to the basic concepts of spiritism – that is, are susceptible of interpretation from that point of view. The present purpose, however, is almost wholly descriptive, without reference either to spiritistic ideas or special psychological theories. It is also necessary to refer at times to emotional effects, since these are mental facts as much as a flow of color or a configuration of images. All observations here noted were made in complete darkness, usually with the eyes open; their prerequisite is wakefulness and alertness, and there is no reason to believe that any of them are, or border upon, sleep-dreams. The images described are examples taken at random from an immense number, and are for the most part commonplace enough; the writer is not unaware of the conventional interpretations, Freudian and otherwise, which the reader may apply to them, but as a rule these seem to him unsatisfactory.
Examples, passim, of images observed with eyes open, complete darkness, mind as nearly “blank” as possible. In some instances the meaning of the images comes into consciousness along with them, without reflective effort; if it does not, the meaning is usually indiscoverable. The term “No reference” means that the image has no discoverable relation to anything in present consciousness or memory of the experimenter:
A cottage surrounded by a picket fence; a road and side-path running past this fence. An old man in ragged clothing with a pack on his back walking down this path. House and fence are white. Momentary, but clear. No reference. (With regard to color, there is often a curious sense of merely knowing that an object has a certain color, without seeming to see the color itself. But in later experiments color is often seen in a sense analogous to ordinary perception. No action motion: the man is as if photographed in act of walking.)
An old stone-paved walk between brown stone walls, suggesting a scene in Mexico or Spain. Old houses and ruins on the left, on a hill-slope. No reference.
A strait of the sea. between rocky shores, winding toward the east; open sea beyond. I seem to be on a ship entering this strait. On the coast is an old stone city, clearly visible but in a blue-black light (if the expression is intelligible – there is no other way to describe it) and very beautiful. No reference.
A rake lying across a path, from which leaves and sticks have been partially raked away; a large boulder in the background. Probable reference to personal difficulties partly cleared up – the means to solve them is at hand but temporarily neglected.
A bird falls flat on a path and turns over on its back (idea that bird is dying); then a ghostly bird, its duplicate, emerges quickly from the dead bird and flies away. Reference to personal problems comes with the image. No color. Sense of motion.
An empty schoolroom; all seats unoccupied except one. In this seat is a large Newfoundland dog, which turns in head and looks at me with an air of canine friendliness. Probable reference to concern over a young man entering college.
A clear vision of the experimenter himself as standing erect and holding out a drinking glass. A hand and arm appear, and the hand pours a liquid into the glass; in the bottom of this draught are black and unpleasant looking dregs. Probable reference to concern over outcome of a present difficulty.
A wooded valley with stream flowing through it; overhead, an airplane falling out of control; a flight of planes toward the west, high up. No reference.
The elements of all such images are of course drawn from experience; that is, the experimenter has seen ships and rakes and ruined houses and dogs. Now and then there are images which clearly are in their entirety no more than latent memories, promptly identified with some past scene or event. But most of the combinations are new. There is no discoverable relationship to account for the sequence of the images – either in the images, or (in the case of obvious symbols) of the things symbolized. These images flash up into consciousness without warning and without apparent relation to that which has preceded them. Out of four images, A, B, C, D, in time sequence, A may be an obvious symbol with either past or future reference, B a visualization of a well-remembered event, C an unknown scene without discoverable meaning, D again symbolic. It is impossible of course to deny flatly that symbolism exists in all the images, even in memory scenes, or that there is some obscure association at work; one can only insist that such relations are not accessible by introspection. The facts deserve more analysis, but at present I wish to mention several examples of scenes of remarkable beauty, The scene numbered 3 above is an instance of this sort others are:
While sitting in complete darkness I suddenly have the idea, which comes partly as a visual glimpse and partly as an intuitive sense, that some one pulls aside a heavy curtain hanging before me and a little to my left (there is no curtain in the room, however). Looking up quickly, I see very clearly a squarish patch of night sky thickly strewn with stars. This appearance lasts for three or four seconds, and the brilliant display of stars gives a feeling of intense pleasure. The “illusion of objectivity” (if we must call it that) is perfect; there is no feeling of observing a mental image only.
The image of an immense scroll, partly unrolled; the open portion seems to be about two feet in breadth by some four or five in length. This scroll is covered with writing in luminous script of great beauty. In front of it, between my eyes and the scroll, floats a whitish and semi-luminous mist, and this prevents my reading the script, or even identifying the language. Meanwhile an indistinct voice makes a comment, of which I seem to grasp the general sense, without hearing a single word clearly. The remarkable beauty of the scroll and of the luminous vapors makes the vision a memorable one.
An immense castle which I seem to view from a distance of perhaps a half mile. This castle is on an eminence, and towers upward to great height, so that its turrets touch the cloud-strata far overhead. It is partially illuminated, and fires sparkle on the summits of its towers. The effect of this is awe and wonder; the mind seems to climb upward with the towers and to widen and expand in consciousness. The conscious association is with illuminated tower-like buildings I have seen, but these have been aggrandized into an appearance of remarkable beauty. These, and similar experiences such as I shall suggest later, convey so extraordinary a pleasure that they are in themselves sufficient inducement for experiments of this type.
Concentration on a remote and luminous image – in place of trying for “blankness” of mind – as on the image of a star, produces a curious effect. The star will often shine out through the darkness of the closed room, quite as distinctly and brilliantly as under normal observation; at the same time there is a weird sense of detachment from the body and of floating in space.
As a matter of procedure, the experimenter should take care to observe the subjective images as closely as possible, holding each one in turn until it vanishes of itself. By practice of this sort one can observe more and more details, and maintain the images longer in position. This is a procedure followed by spiritualists in their unfoldment classes, and it is undoubtedly effective in developing a form of clairvoyance. We must remember that experience is of different types and enters consciousness in various ways – by one particular sense, by several senses at a time, and also in an extra-sensory manner via the unconscious. In the latter case the objective world may come into consciousness as a veridical image, but this is difficult to distinguish from mere memory images, synthetic inventions of the unconscious activity, symbols, and so on. This is obviously one source of errors and confusions of all sorts in the practice of clairvoyance. And it is interesting to note that the effect of objectivity increases as one gains power to hold and study the mental images. The eyes are focused in observing them, and if they are in movement the eyes follow them exactly as in ordinary observation, so far as one’s sense of eye-movement can be trusted.
We are reminded of common phenomena of the seance room, where lights, forms, and sounds are often visible to one or two persons only: on this account investigators regard them as of no importance. But this may well arise only from the degree of individual sensitiveness. And when, as sometimes happens, two or three clairvoyants will describe a spirit form in the same way and at the same spot, the fact – if suggestion can be eliminated – points to some kind of independently existing cause; just as the testimony of one or more witnesses to the existence of a chair or table points to its independent being also, of some nature. All these problems are familiar, but it is perhaps worth-while to repeat that only by arbitrary definition of the terms is one justified in describing a clairvoyant perception in every case as “unreal,” “subjective,” and “illusory.” And images perceived “in the silence” have reality on their own level of experience, and quite possibly as existents in their own right. In the metaphysics of the East, a thought-form has temporal and spatial being and is endowed with its own life-like energy. But this takes one much too far afield.
A fact of no small interest and importance is that it becomes possible, in time, to put questions to this extra-conscious source and receive answers from it. These are sometimes highly instructive, sometimes whimsical or ironical. When I ask, in so many words, how to handle certain literary material which has been puzzling me, the reply is in the form of an image, first of a rotating disk, then of a round potter’s table with the wheel, then of a disk of clay being turned and fashioned, and of hands at work shaping it. The accompanying idea arises along with it – turn your subject around and around, and do it yourself instead of asking. Another question, as to the source of all unconscious ideas, is answered by a clear vision of a dignified and grave-faced individual shaking his head slowly. It is well to take note always of the first interpretation which comes to the mind; it is usually more plausible than those discovered by analysis. How far one can go with question and answer is an unsolved problem, and possibly of great importance. There are a halfscore of contemporary writers who urge upon us the necessity of “listening to the mind” in the solving of difficulties, and as many more forms of religious belief or of mental therapeutics which depend in one way or another on communication with the unconscious. From the psychological standpoint there is much interesting material which is quite inaccessible except through introspection of this type, but which should not be disregarded on that account. The experiments lead directly into clairvoyance, and it is only by this means that the phenomenon can be conveniently studied at first hand.
In addition to the aesthetic value of some of the images, there are further experiences of a pleasurable type, of more emotional tension; one is a little reluctant to intrude such matters, yet they are as factual as any other. There is an experience which consists at first in the consciousness of a light, seemingly remote; if the attention be held on it, it presently seems to inundate the entire consciousness. The effect of this is a sudden sense of extraordinary well-being and power and refreshment; though it lasts no more than part of a second, the experience is never forgotten. Another effect, perhaps less “mystical” in description but of subtle implications, can best be described by illustration. While sitting in the darkness I am suddenly aware – not of the appearance – but of the disappearance of a huge golden dome or bowl-shaped object which I had been contemplating with rapt interest without being aware of myself as observer. Contradictory as it seems in statement, I was nevertheless acutely aware of the object and delighted with its strange beauty; as soon however as the I-consciousness appeared – as soon as I said to myself, “What a remarkable object this is which I am looking at” – there was the usual snap-back into normal consciousness and the dome vanished. Now this self-estrangement, this seeming diminution and loss of self-consciousness, is in fact no loss at all, but rather a remarkable sense of exaltation, of expansion and strange pleasure. It seems to point toward a possible state of consciousness which is a kind of greater self in which, nevertheless, the lesser self is not truly lost, but aggrandized.
The bearing of this type of experience on various religious, philosophical arid mystical concepts is obvious; it makes intelligible, too, the groping for language and figurative expressions of those who have tried to explain such states. It may remove the matter a little from the domain of mysticism to point out that this self-estrangement, transfer and identification of observer with the object, is familiar to everyone in principle. It occurs in some degree whenever the subject is “rapt in attention”, “carried out of himself”, “lost to the world” in some all-absorbing event. If one sees, for example, an impending accident, the attention flows out to the situation, the event, and possible victim. The whole consciousness of the watcher is “there” so to speak; the body itself responds with a complex of nervous and muscular and chemical changes, and all sense of personal identity is for the moment lost. So too with complete absorption in music, a work of art of any sort, a problem, a story. This psychic identification is usually involuntary – there is no sense of diminution and loss of consciousness, but rather the contrary. Psychologically this seems identical with the socalled mystical experience. Its significance, it seems to me, has not been properly considered by psychologists.
A further phenomenon of some interest is that of the white vapors. I am not unaware of the physiological explanation of part of these appearances – nor of the fact that this explanation leaves a good deal to be desired. These whitish appearances are seen at first on the edge of the visual field (they are quite distinct from the well-known grayness of the dark); they often roll in by successive waves toward the center of the field, or seem to descend from overhead. They may come from one side only, or from both. Later, they tend to remain stationary in front of one, and take on a globe or disk shape, brightest in the center, with nebulous boundaries. They can be seen about equally well with eyes either open or closed. In the case of clairvoyants who develop their powers by spiritistic methods, these clouds often seem to develop human-like shapes, so that the phenomenon is regarded as one of etherealization.
Psychologists are usually unwilling to study such phenomena at first hand, by personal experience, on the somewhat dubious ground that they lose the necessary objectivity of judgment, and even that the practice is dangerous to mental balance. The present writer has always felt that the psychologist whose mentality was too delicately balanced for personal experiments of this type is much too highly organized for psychology or any other useful pursuit. And the methods used by spiritualists in their unfoldment classes (faking these at their best) is well worth study. There is no doubt at all (in my own mind, after many years of observation) that a large percentage of sitters develop extra-sensory perception, along with various forms of physical phenomena – and also that it is mere nonsense to suppose the results are those of hallucination and nervous disorders.
Results obtained by sitting “in the silence” of course vary widely with the individual. It is not wise to attempt such experiments unless one has reasonably good health and a fair degree of mental and nervous control. Occasionally one may be visited by sights which are far from agreeable, not only of human suffering and peril, but of existents corresponding to the “elementals” of the occultists. Very little attempt has been made to describe these latter in print, for reasons obvious to those who have seen them. For our present purpose a single sketchy account of one of the least disagreeable of the species must suffice. This singular and wholly disgusting appearance resembled a large inflated bladder, some three or four feet in length, semi-transparent, and filled with writhing worm-like intestines; it possessed short rear legs with toes ending in claws, the toes partly joined by a membrane. The head was about the size of a large apple, with short ear-like projections, and the whole image was dark red and blackish in color. This exceedingly unpleasant visitor [32] appeared in the corner of the room (seemingly), standing erect on its hind legs; it then rose slowly and disappeared through the ceiling. With whatever incredulity it be received, such an experience is not different psychologically or logically from any other unconscious or clairvoyant imagery. It has often been suggested that appearances of this type account for some of the terrors of delirium, and especially of acute alcoholism; if so there may well be an area of existence, or of psychic experience, which is, so to speak, populated by these monstrosities, and which is penetrated by an observer under definite psychological conditions. The problem, like most in this field, remains unexplored by psychology.
The principal difficulty in all subjective observation is of course that of mental control; everything depends on it. And the final purpose of all psychic disciplines is to slow down the mental activity, while retaining the power of alert observation. The effort toward control, and the practice of “entering the silence” even if regarded as a relaxation period only, is wholly salutary if done in the proper manner. It is also the approach to a great number of introspective data of extreme importance, accessible in no other manner. The psychologists, in whose territory this material properly falls, have so defined their own subject matter as to exclude most of it, though such exclusion is arbitrary and unprofitable.