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The Seven Purposes by Margaret Cameron 1867 - 1947

 

VI

 

THE actual existence of intelligent, invisible forces, constantly doing battle for and against spiritual progress, through possession of what we are wont to call our souls, was at first difficult for me to accept literally, the idea being in direct opposition to my whole mental tendency. While the theory was interesting, it seemed hardly credible in its specific, individual application. However, I was soon given a manifestation of the strength and pertinacity of the disintegrating forces, which—although it ultimately strengthened my conviction, proving highly corroborative— threatened for a time to end this effort, as far as I was concerned.

 

The last two Lessons were given to me on the 12th of April, and it had been arranged that Mr. T——, the representative of a publishing-house, should come on the evening of the thirteenth for a demonstration of the communication with the next plane. From the day this arrangement was contemplated, frequent assertions were made under Mary K.'s


 

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signature, concerning Mr. T—— and his attitude toward this experience, many of which were afterward proved untrue, and all of which I doubted, notwithstanding repeated proofs, already quoted, of her general correctness of statement. Day by day these messages grew more confusing, and I less able to account for them by any theory then formed. That a deliberate "drive" by malign powers was in progress never occurred to me, and would have seemed too absurd to credit, even had I thought of it.

 

As there seemed to be no close tie between Mr. T—— and any of those from whom he had expressed a desire to hear, no great eagerness on either side to complete a circle of which each was a part, I felt that the interview might present difficulties not encountered before, and resolved to do no writing during the day, reserving my strength for the evening's work.

 

In the morning, however, I had occasion to ask Mary K. for some brief information. Beginning, as usual, with her signature— somewhat haltingly done—the pencil wrote quickly, but erratically: "Mr. Farrow is dead." This man is a business associate of Cass's, living abroad.

 

Startled, I thought I must have taken the message incorrectly, but it was repeated.


 

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"Mr. Farrow is dead. Cass will hear later." When I insisted that this could not be true, it was reiterated. "Yes, he is here, and b… blon… latter… bewildered. Mary K."

 

Our personal relations with Mr. Farrow, while pleasant, have never been close, being based entirely upon a business connection, and my affections were in no way responsible for my resistance to this announcement, nor would our personal affairs have been in any way influenced by his death. But I did not believe it. "Farrow is here with us. May… Mary K." This signature was slow and irresolute, beginning as Maynard and ending as Mary K., but lacking the firmness of either—an indecision and inconsequence characteristic, I have since learned, of disintegrating force in these invasions.

 

"Was he killed in an accident?"

 

"No. Pneumonia. Maynard. Tell Cass." "Shall I telephone to Cass now?"

 

"No. I am watching over him. Maynard."

 

The use of the word "dead" in this connection was surprising, since the whole trend of former communications had been toward elimination of the idea of death. Once more I asked Mary K. if they were sure there had been no mistake.

 

"Yes. He is dead to your life."


 

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You mean Farrow of P——? Not his brother? Or his son?" "Yes, P——. It is true. You will hear soon. Cass must go there."

 

I telephoned to Cass, saying nothing of this experience, and found him in good spirits, proving that he had not heard of Mr. Farrow's death. Returning to the pencil, I told Mary K. I did not believe the information was correct.

 

"Yes, he is dead. A telegram on the way to Cass. He will receive it soon. Before one o'clock."

 

Some time later, having heard nothing from Cass, I told Mary K. again that there had been a mistake.

 

"No, it is true. Mr. Farrow of P—— is here with us. Cass will know in a few minutes. He will telephone."

 

I warned her then that my faith in her veracity was at stake, and that while I could not doubt that Frederick, Mary Kendal, Maynard Holt, and others' had communicated through me, I could not take the responsibility of publishing anything she had told me unless I could trust her in all things, adding: "If this is not true how can I be sure that any of it is?"

 

"Mary K. It is true. Don't doubt."

 

I said I had no wish to doubt, but that unless 198


 

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this message came from some other than Mary K., I could not believe her again, if it proved, as I was sure it would, to be untrue. I began to suspect that disintegrating forces were at work.

 

"It comes from the constructive force. Be confident. It perplexes you."

 

Later experience has taught me that while either force may be in complete command at moments, during these struggles for control, not infrequently a message begun by one is finished by the other. During the three days of this first persistent attack, however, I held no key to the mystery, and the occasional clearly constructive and characteristic messages from Mary K. and Maynard Holt merely added to my bewilderment and dismay. Yet never for one instant during those three days did I accept the repeated statements of Mr. Farrow's death as true. Weeks afterward, Mary K. told me why I was not deceived.

 

Since that time, too, I have learned more clearly to distinguish personality by the degree and quality of force applied to the pencil, which varies greatly with individuals, though it sometimes varies in the same individual at different times. But in the first experience it did not occur to me to apply that test of identification.


 

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All that Saturday afternoon the argument went on at intervals, I insisting that Mr. Farrow was not dead, the pencil reiterating that he was.

 

At two o'clock Maynard said: "Believe in us, Margaret; We can help you better." It is evident now that this referred to the conflict with the disintegrating force, but at the moment I misunderstood it and reminded him of the many specific and inaccurate statements made, during the past few days, regarding the man who was coming that evening by appointment, asking if this were more misinformation of the same sort, to which the reply was: "No, Farrow is here. He is dazed, but will be taken care of."

 

An hour later, I returned to the pencil, begging them to tell me, before definite information reached me from other sources, that there had been a mistake.

 

"Mary K. You must not doubt. We shall lose control of you if you do." When I said that what I sought was truth, she said: "I know, but you doubt our control, and weaken it."

 

"I also doubt my own correctness."

 

"You are correct." As, indeed, I was. Her message reached my consciousness.

 

At three o'clock the insistence that Mr.


 

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Farrow was dead continued, and attempts were made to explain former inaccuracies, on the plea of a difference in plane, creating "errors in terms of finite space."

 

Shortly before five, it was said that Cass had received news of Mr. Farrow's death, and was on his way home. A few minutes later Mary K. warned me again.

 

"You must not doubt…. You can't be a messenger without faith."

 

How am I to know when you are telling the truth and when it is error.

 

"The truth is the truth, and you must learn to differentiate between the planes." I suspect that she intended the last word to be "forces," and that control was wrested from her before it was written.

 

Resenting the whole confused situation, and entirely unable to account for my conviction that this message was false, I said: "If Cass tells me, when he comes home, that Mr. Farrow is dead, I will believe anything you tell me in future. If he is not dead, I'll have nothing further to do with you or your book."

 

"Mary K. You will go on with our work. He is dead."

 

At this point, Cass arrived. He said that he had received neither letter nor cablegram from Mr. Farrow for ten days, although an


 

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expected and important letter from him was some time overdue. This seemed to lend color to the report of his death, but my conviction was unshaken.

 

From the beginning of these communications with the next plane, although at times excessively fatigued, I had enjoyed an increasing mental serenity, but with the first announcement of Mr. Farrow's death, this had given way to the peculiar nervous instability and apprehension invariably accompanying these mischievous invasions.

 

By night my mind was in a turmoil and my nerves on edge, my confidence shaken, my faith in the balance—which did not lessen the difficulties of an interview prompted chiefly by intellectual interest. Establishing connection with an unfamiliar personality is not easy, at best, and frequently some time is required to obtain free communication. On this occasion, instead of devoting the evening to perfecting one connection, several persons were Called, all but one responding, and the messages, with one or two exceptions, were unsatisfactory. There were vain and fatiguing efforts to write a name unknown to any of us, and most of the efforts to obtain specific evidential data were unsuccessful. Whether this was due to my own lack of confidence,


 

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to interference by the enemy, or to the fact that at no time have the individuals communicating through me concerned themselves with personal and specific details—except occasionally, for my own greater conviction—I do not know.

 

At midnight, when this interview was over and we were alone, although wearied to the point of exhaustion, I asked again about Mr. Farrow, receiving the same reply, with a variation to the effect that the cablegram announcing his death had been delayed by the censor, and with occasional phrases of appeal and encouragement—merely intensifying my bewilderment—from Mary K. and Maynard.

 

"Are you sure you haven't been away and let in disintegrating forces?" I asked Mary K.

 

"No, we have been here. They can't touch your purpose. Don't fear. You will be perfectly reassured soon," was her reply, which, had we but recognized it, was an intimation that disintegrating forces had been in partial control in spite of all effort to overcome them.

 

Again I asked why the word "dead" had been used, and was told: "That is what the cable to Cass says." Which manifestly did not explain.

 

Sunday morning, Maynard Holt's familiar signature came at once, followed by a long,


 

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personal message to a friend who was present, steadily written, and pointed by an occasional characteristic turn of phrase, indicating a clear and uninterrupted connection.

 

When this had been finished, Cass asked, "Shall I go to the office for that cable?"

 

"It is not there."

 

"It's all a mistake?" I urged. "Farrow is here."

 

But I knew he was not there. Had he been present in the flesh, I could not have been more certain that he had not left this plane.

 

All day we discussed the bearing of these persistent misstatements—provided they were misstatements—upon the experience as a whole, and I was oppressed, in addition to my personal disappointment, by a sense of my responsibility to those others to whom this new faith had brought active happiness and hope. I had arranged to go to L—— on the following Tuesday, to spend a few days with the Gaylord family; Mr. Kendal expected to arrive in New York a week or ten days later, anticipating further communication with his wife; and various other appointments were pending. But though I could neither question the authenticity of former personal communications, nor deny the constructive quality of the Lessons, I felt that I could not continue to act


 

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as intermediary if it were possible for persons like Mary K. and Maynard to lend themselves to this sort of thing, nor could I encourage others to hold a belief after it had become impossible to me.

 

In the afternoon, Mary K. told me to go to L—— as soon as possible. When we asked about Mr. Farrow, Maynard's signature preceded the message.

 

"He is here. Why don't you accept it?"

 

"I don't know why I can't," was my reply. "Why don't you convince my mind, as you have at other times? Why don't you make me feel it? I can't believe it's true."

 

"You have the statement of two friends."

 

"You've been mistaken before in specific statements."

 

"Only in those relating to dimensions of finite space, which we are unable to gauge accurately."

 

That evening, Mary K.'s signature came first. "You must see how foolish it was to mistrust us," the pencil wrote. "Mr. Farrow is here, and Cass will learn of it soon."

 

"Unless you take refuge again in that difference of plane," I commented, rather bitterly. "Why don't you remember it before, instead of after, the error it creates?"

 

"Because you should not distrust us."


 

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But why not encourage me to trust you by remembering that difference of plane in the first place?" I insisted. "Why be so explicit about things you know may be inaccurately stated?"

 

"I do not deceive you intentionally. We feel that a thing certain of accomplishment is done, and are frequently misled into premature statements by the strength of intention, or purpose, or movement in a given direction. We are accurate from our point of view, and not always able to gauge yours."

 

Admitting this to be conceivable, I said: "Now tell me about Mr. Farrow."

 

"Mr. Farrow is here with us. When Cass gets to the office in the morning he will find the truth." Again the signature was hesitating and indefinite, first Maynard, then Mary K. I felt that neither of them wrote it, but could not reconcile the frequent constructive statements, urging faith and continuance of this work, to destructive purpose, nor could I understand why, if Mary K. and Maynard were present, they did not warn me of false statements by malign forces, provided such were the case.

 

Monday morning, the situation was unchanged, save that the statements were slightly elaborated. Repeatedly I asked whether they were not confusing Mr. Farrow with


 

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some other member of his family, or whether they had accepted serious illness as death.

 

A curious statement followed this suggestion, under Maynard's signature. "Farrow is both here and there. He is here in essence, there in body…. He is both here and there for some time after death."

 

Immediately afterward, however, when I said that this sounded preposterous, Mary K.'s name was written, with: "Mr. Farrow is here. He is dead to you. Actually now dead. Go to L—— at once."

 

"I can't go to L——, with affairs in this state," I told her. "You will know soon. Wait."

 

Maynard followed, with an appeal to "have faith," adding: "It will be clear soon."

 

This went on, at intervals, until after two 05 clock, when I had promised an interview to a woman who had not visited me before. Fully resolved to tell her that I could take no messages for her, I made one last attempt to obtain the truth before her arrival—this time with partial success.

 

"Maynard. It is a mistake…"

 

At that moment, my guest arrived. I told her that I might be unable to get any satisfactory communications for her, but her daughter, who left this plane years ago, came at


 

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once, writing steadily and clearly, with the exception of one brief interruption. She told her mother of the seven purposes and their meaning, urging her, as had all the others, to put herself consciously in touch with constructive purpose, and to open her mind and spirit to those on the next plane who were eager to work with her.

 

When I was again alone, I returned to the pencil, which wrote quickly and strongly: "Maynard. It is a mistake about Farrow. The…" Here again the opposing forces evidently gained control. "Farrow here, but not your Farrow."

 

"Then why have you insisted that he was our Farrow?" "He led us to think so."

 

I said with some emphasis that I wanted a better explanation than that.

 

"Maynard. You are messenger for us only if you trust us."

 

A fortnight later, after a second, similar experience, Mary K. told me, when I asked about this first confused period: "We had a terrific struggle for you then. We told you the truth, but the other forces controlled the pencil…. The forces of disintegration compelled us for the moment. We were not theirs, but they overpowered and used us."


 

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Early in June, while preparing this manuscript, I asked her: "Was it you who wrote, 'You must not doubt. We shall lose control of you if you do'?"

 

"Yes. We were fighting for your faith."

 

"Can you tell me why you did not explain then—why you have never explained—that the enemy had control?"

 

"We have certain limitations in conflicts of this nature…. In actual conflict we can only affirm. Remember that…. When attacked by disintegrating force, the only way we can help you is to call to your purpose and to affirm our own. In your individual struggle we may not interfere, even when it concerns our work. You must believe or doubt, according to your own choice…. We cannot tell you that disintegrating forces threaten you, until you have recognized them. Then we can help you repel them. Always we call to you and try to encourage you…. You must make your own: choice and your own deductions, and learn in that way to discriminate between the forces appealing to you. Details of your personal struggles may not be explained. They are your development."

 

Knowing nothing of all this in April, however, I insisted upon a detailed explanation of the Farrow mystery, and again the disintegrating


 

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forces played upon my doubt and bewilderment, elaborating excuses for the mistake, in Maynard's name.

 

Refusing to accept any of these ingenious but illogical assertions, I contended that they were unfair to me, having first specifically volunteered this erroneous information, which they now attempted to account for by obviously specious explanations.

 

"We volunteer information pertaining to the message we have for the world through you."

 

This, it will be perceived, was an affirmation indirectly disclaiming the Farrow messages, but I did not so recognize it, and reminded them that they had reproached me for not trusting them in this matter.

 

"You are logical within your limits," was Maynard's only reply to that.

 

"And you still expect me to go on with your work?"

 

"You have had many manifestations of our force," Mary K. returned. "Mr. Kendal will show you how this occurred."

 

When I mentioned, with some heat, that some one would have to show me, as they had asked me to shoulder a heavy responsibility in this matter, she said: "You are puzzled and frightened, but knowledge of our constructive work through you should decide your action."


 

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Remembering how fear and grief and despair, in certain cases, and cynical indifference in others, had been banished from the lives of the men and women to whom these messages had come, I conceded the constructive work.

 

"Then come along and build…. You are unable to distinguish the difficulties under which we work. Many messengers have failed to convey the message we have tried to give…. Many mistakes happen with the best messengers."

 

"Was this my mistake?" I asked.

 

"No. You make only one mistake, so far. You shut us out by doubt. Don't doubt. We are all working for the same great end."

 

Eventually, although far from satisfied about the Farrow affair, I decided to go to L——, feeling that if disillusionment must come to the Gaylord family, it would better come now than later, but still hoping that some explanation would be given while I was with them.

 

In this I was disappointed. Not until a fortnight later did I even begin to understand it. But after the first interview with Frederick at L——, I wrote Cass (April 17th): "If ever I had any doubts about the truth of this, they are gone! Somebody did something I don't understand, but this is real."

 

I have given this experience in some detail,


 

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not only because it corroborates the statements that malevolent and crafty forces are about us, striving to thwart progressive effort, but because it seems also to offer at least a partial explanation of the inconsistencies and contradictions that long have baffled and discouraged investigators of psychic phenomena. Obviously, until the identity and character of the invisible communicating personality have been established and clearly recognized, and the purpose prompting the communication manifested through a series of experiments, it is unsafe to rely upon information received in this way. And it is equally obvious that forces of disintegration could scarcely find a more fruitful method of implanting in the human mind doubt and cynicism concerning the possibility of obtaining authentic and enlightening revelations from planes beyond, than by contradicting and confusing such messages, or by deliberately misleading the applicant for information.

 

Later experience brought further demonstration of the diligence of the sinister purposes, together with greater knowledge of ways to defeat them

 

PART - 7