ABSTRACT
The unfathomable non-ego dominates spirit in a man within and without, fitfully in the world and subterraneously in his hidden passions. To spirit in a philosopher this same non-ego wears a specious unity, to balance his own integrity; and he perhaps calls it the Universe or Fate or, if his imagination is dramatic, he may call it God. But to spirit in the child, with his shorter perspectives, the non-ego is distinctly plural, familiarly active and morally equivocal. It is all foreground, composed of the persons who at each moment feed, carry, coddle, amuse, slap, or abandon him. He is the slave of society. Even material objects, especially his toys, acquire for him a certain personality; they are numinous, like giant trees and migratory birds. And places, no less than persons, may become a refuge filling him with peace and confidence. Still the non-ego remains always dangerous; there is no knowing what its next onslaught may be; and this servitude embitters existence.
