It is true that some of us do not like to think of the lower animals "reasoning," so we use the word "Instinct" to denote the degree of Mentation of the lower animal. The writer does not object to the word; in fact, he shall use it for the sake of distinguishing between the several mental states. But, remember, "Instinct" is but a term used to denote a lesser form of "Reason"—and the "Instinct" of the horse or dog is a fine thing when we consider the "Reason" of the Bushman or Digger Indian. However, we shall not quarrel about words. Both "Reason" and "Instinct" mean degrees or forms of "Mentation," the word we are using. The lower forms of animal life exhibit Mentation along the lines of sex-action; feeling and taste. Then by degrees come smell, hearing and sight. And then something very like "reasoning" in the case of the dog, elephant, horse, etc. Mentation everywhere in the animal kingdom, in some degree. No doubt about Life and Mentation, there.
But what about Mentation and Life in the plant life? All of you admit that there is "Life" there—but about Mentation, well, let us see! Some of you draw the line at the word "Mind" in connection with plants, although you freely admit the existence of "Life" there. Well, remember our axiom—"no Life without Mentation." Let us try to apply it.
A moment's reflection will give you instances of Mentation among the plants. Science has called it "Appetency," rather than admit "Mind," the word "Appetency" being defined as "an instinctive tendency on the part of low forms of organic life to perform certain acts necessary for their well-being—such as to select and absorb such particles of matter as serve to support and nourish them." Well, that looks like a degree of Mentation, doesn't it? Many young animals evidence little or nothing more than "Appetency" in suckling. We shall adopt the word "Appetency" to designate the Mentation in plant-life. Remember this, please.
Anyone who has raised trees or plants has noticed the instinctive efforts of the plant to reach the water and sunlight. Potatoes in dark cellars have been known to send forth shoots twenty feet in length in order to reach an opening in the wall. Plants have been known to bend over during the night and dip their leaves in a pot of water several inches away. The tendrils of climbing plants seek for the stake or support, and find it, too, although it has been changed daily. The tendril will retwine itself, after it has been untwisted and bent in another direction. The tips of the roots of the tree are said to show a sensitiveness almost akin to that of the limb of an animal, and evidently possess something akin to nerve matter.
Duhamel placed some beans in a cylinder of moist earth. When they began to sprout, he turned the cylinder around quarter way of its circumference; then a little more the next day; and so on, a little each day, until the cylinder had described a complete revolution—had been turned completely around. Then the beans were taken from the earth, and lo! the roots and sprouts formed a complete spiral. With every turn of the cylinder the roots and sprouts had changed their position and direction—the roots striving to grow "downward," and the sprouts striving to grow "upward"—until the spiral had formed. Akin to this is the boy's trick of uprooting a sprouting seed, and replanting it upside down, in which case the sprouts begin to turn a semicircle until it is able to grow straight up to the surface of the earth, while the roots describe a semicircle until they can grow downward once more.
And so on, story after story of "Appetency" or Mentation in plants might be told, until we reach the insect-catching species, when even the most conservative observer is forced to admit that: "Well, it does almost seem like thinking, doesn't it?" Any lover of plants, flowers or trees, and who has been able to study them at first hand, does not need much argument to prove that plant-life exhibits traces of Mentation, some of it pretty far advanced, too. Some lovers of plants go so far as to claim that one must "love" plants before they will succeed in growing them, and that the plants feel and respond to the feeling. But the writer does not insist upon this, but merely mentions it in passing.
Before leaving the subject of Mentation in plants, the writer is tempted to steal a little more space and tell you that plants do more than receive sensations of light and moisture. They exhibit rudimentary taste as well. Haeckel relates an interesting story of an insect-catching plant. He states that while it will bend its leaves when any solid body (excepting a raindrop) touches its surface, still it will secrete its acrid digestive fluid only when that object happens to be nitrogenous (meat or cheese). The plant is able to distinguish its meat diet (its food being insectivorous), and while it will supply its gastric juice for meat and cheese, as well as for the insect, it will not do so for other solids to which it is indifferent. He also mentions the fact that roots of trees and plants are able to taste the different qualities of soil, and will avoid poor soil and plunge into the richer parts of the earth. The sexual organism and life of plants also affords a great field for study to the student hunting for evidences of "life" and "Mentation" in that kingdom.
The motion or circulation of the sap in trees and plants was formerly considered to be due to capillary attraction and purely "mechanical laws," but recent scientific experiments have shown it to be a vital action—an evidence of life and Mentation—the experiments having proven that if the cell-substance of the plant was poisoned or paralyzed, the circulation of sap immediately ceased, although the "mechanical principles" had not been interfered with in the least.
And now on to the mineral kingdom. "What," you may cry, "Mind and Mentation in the mineral and chemical world—surely not?" Yes, even in these low planes may be found traces of mental action. There is Life everywhere—even there. And where there is Life there is Mind. Away back among the chemical principles, and the minerals we may go in our search for Life and Mind—they cannot escape us—even there!
CHAPTER IV
LIFE AND MIND AMONG THE ATOMS
TO the majority of persons the title of this chapter would seem an absurdity. Not to speak of Inorganic "Mind," the idea of "Life" in the Inorganic World would seem a ridiculous paradox to the "man on the street" who thinks of Substance as "dead," lifeless and inert. And, to tell the truth, even Science has held this view until a comparatively recent period, laughing to scorn the old Occult Teaching that the Universe is Alive, and capable of Thinking. But the recent discoveries of modern Science has changed all this, and we no longer hear Science speaking of "dead Matter" or "blind Force"—it recognizes that these terms are meaningless, and that the dreams of the old Occultists are coming true. Science confronts a live and thinking Universe. She is dazzled by the sight, and would shade her eyes, fearing to see that which she feels must present itself to her vision when her eyes become accustomed to the sight.
But a few daring minds among the scientific investigators are dreaming wonderful dreams to-day, and they tell us in broken tones of the wonderful visions that are passing before their sight. They dare not tell it all, for they fear the ridicule of their fellows. Their visions are of Life—Universal Life. In its investigations of the Material, Science has penetrated so far into the recesses of Things that its most advanced thinkers and investigators now find themselves standing in the presence of the Immaterial.
Science to-day is proclaiming the new doctrine—that is the same as the "old" doctrine of the Occultists—the doctrine of "Life Everywhere"—Life even in the hardest rock!
Before entering into our consideration of the evidence of Mentation in the Inorganic world, let us accustom ourselves to the idea of "something like Life" being found there. It will be better for us to approach the subject by easy stages. Where there is Life there must be Mind—so let us first look for evidences of Life.
The "man on the street" would require something more tangible than scientific explanations of "sensation," "attraction," etc. What can we offer him as an illustration? Let us see!
Suppose we call the attention of "the man" to the fact that metals get tired after considerable work without periods of rest. Science calls this the "fatigue of elasticity." When the metals are given rest, they recuperate and regain their former elasticity and health. "The man" may remember that his razor acts this way occasionally—and