a being separate and distinct from everything else in the world, failing to perceive its connection with the branch or limb, and tree, and its unity in being with every other leaf on the tree.  After a bit the unfolding consciousness of the leaf enables it to perceive the stem that connects it with the twig.  Then it begins to realize certain relationships, and feels its vital connection with the twig and the few other leaves attached to the same twig.  Later on, it unfolds sufficiently to perceive that certain other leaf-bearing twigs are connected with the same branch, and it learns to feel its relationship with all twigs and leaves springing from that branch.  Then again, a little later on, it begins to realize that other branches spring from the same limb as its branch, and the sense of relationship and dawning Unity begins to widen still further.  And so it goes on, until at last, the tiny leaflet realizes that the life of the tree is the life of all of its parts—­limbs, branches, twigs, leaves, blossoms, fruit, seed, etc., and that it, itself, is but a centre of expression in the One Life of the tree.  Does the leaf feel less important and real from this discovery?  We should say assuredly not, for it must feel that behind its tiny form and limited strength is the strength and vitality of the entire organism of the tree.  It must know that the tree is ever at work extracting nourishment from the earth, air, and water, and transmitting that nourishment to its every part, including our little friend the leaflet.  It knows that the sap will rise in the Spring to renew the manifestations of life, and it knows that although its leafy form may wither and die, still the essence of its life—­its real Life—­does not die but remains ever active and strong awaiting its chance for future expression and re-embodiment.  Of course this figure of the leaf and the tree fails us if we attempt to carry it very far, but it will give us at least a partial idea of the relationship between the life of the person, and the One Life.

Some of the Oriental teachers have illustrated this idea to their students by various familiar examples and figures of speech.  Some bid the student hold up his hand, and then point out to him that each finger is apparently separate and distinct if one does not look down to where it joins the hand.  Each finger, if it had consciousness, might well argue that it was a separate individual, having no relationship with any other finger.  It might prove this to its own satisfaction, and to that of its listeners, by showing that it could move itself without stirring the other fingers.  And so long as its consciousness was confined to its upper two joints it would remain under the illusion of separateness.  But when its consciousness at last permeated the depths of its being, it would find that it emerged from the same hand from which also sprung the other fingers, and that its real life and power was vested in the hand rather than in itself, and that although apparently separate and independent, it was really but a part of the hand.  And when its consciousness, through the consciousness of the hand, broadened and widened, it would perceive its relationship with, and interdependence with, the whole body, and would also recognize the power of the brain, and its mighty Will.