And from this point begins our story of Spiritual Evolution.

The story of Man, the Individual, begins amidst humble surroundings.  Primitive man, but little above the level of the lower animals in point of intelligence, has nevertheless that distinguishing mark of Individuality—­“Self-Consciousness,” which is the demarkation between Beast and Man.  And even the lowest of the lowest races had at least a “trace” of this Self-Consciousness, which made of them individuals, and caused the fragment of the race-soul to separate itself from the general principle animating the race, and to fasten its “I” conscious upon itself, rather than upon the underlying race-soul, along instinctive lines.  Do you know just what this Self-Consciousness is, and how it differs from the Physical Consciousness of the lower animals?  Perhaps we had better pause a moment to consider it at this place.

The lower animals are of course conscious of the bodies, and their wants, feelings, emotions, desires, etc., and their actions are in response to the animating impulses coming from this plane of consciousness.  But it stops there.  They “know,” but they do not “know that they know”; that is, they have not yet arrived at a state in which they can think of themselves as “I,” and to reason upon their thoughts and mental operations.  It is like the consciousness of a very young child, which feels and knows its sensations and wants, but is unable to think of itself as “I,” and to turn the mental gaze inward.  In another book of these series we have used the illustration of the horse which has been left standing out in the cold sleet and rain, and which undoubtedly feels and knows the unpleasant sensations arising therefrom, and longs to get away from the unpleasant environment.  But, still, he is unable to analyze his mental states and wonder whether his master will come out to him soon, or think how cruel it is to keep him out of his warm comfortable stable; or wonder whether he will be taken out in the cold rain again tomorrow; or feel envious of other horses who are indoors; or wonder why he is kept out cold nights, etc., etc.  In short, the horse is unable to think as would a reasoning man under just the same circumstances.  He is aware of the discomfort, just as would be the man; and he would run away home, if he were able, just as would the man.  But he is not able to pity himself, nor to think about his personality, as would a man—­he is not able to wonder whether life is worth the living, etc., as would a man.  He “knows” but is not able to reflect upon the “knowing.”

In the above illustration, the principal point is that the horse does not “know himself” as an entity, while even the most primitive man is able to so recognize himself as an “I.”  If the horse were able to think in words, he would think “feel,” “cold,” “hurt,” etc., but he would be unable to think “I feel; I am cold; I am hurt,” etc.  The thought “I” would be missing.