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A Sacred Influx in the Stillness—Mountain-climbing Expeditions and Thdf

ONCE again the days flit across my mountain home like light-
wingecl butterflies* I do not forget, I cannot forget, the ethereal aim
which has brought me here. Above all else lies this inexorable
necessity of attaining and retaining for a while an increasing degree
of spiritual, mental and physical stillness.

In a multitude of places upon this sorry planet a multitude of
men are running hither arid thither or jumping this way and that,
in an endeavour to develop a more athletic body by such constant

I, on the contrary, am pinning this body down to a dead stop,
in an endeavour to free myself from all intimations of physical

Shall I exaggerate and say that the man who does nothing at all
engages in the highest form of activity; that the man who is always
busy really does nothing at all: that in fact the supreme mission of
man for which he was sent down to this world is precisely to do
nothing? But, alas, few will understand this thought!

We desire concrete justification of man's right to exist in the
form of work, but nothing else that is great in Nature asks us for it.
The sun does not work, yet it accomplishes the law of its being
better than any man ever does. It merely shows itself and at once
all the thousand activities of the earth begin to hum of their own
accord. Let us be like suns, and learn how the highest form of the
art of doing nothing will bring all Nature running to our feet and
ready to become energetically engaged in every kind of activity
on our behalf.

In a multitude of other places a multitude of other men arc
agitating the molecules of their heated brains in intellectual re-
flections upon a hundred subjects. I, on the contrary, take symbolic
ice from yonder summits and apply it for a time to my head, in the
hope of freezing away all manifestations of reflective action, And in
all the five continents of the world other men are cajoling their
Creator with offerings, rites, self-tortures, aspirations, incantations,
prayers, and ceremonies* I, in final insurrection against all these
mummeries, keep my heart as quiet as a placid pool and await the