To one extent or another, each family of consciousness carries within it the characteristics inherent in all families. There is, therefore, great diversity.

The Sumari abilities are highly creative ones, however. To a large extent they have been inhibited in our society. Each person can recognize his or her degree of Sumariness. The playful, creative elements of personality can then be released.These qualities are particularly important as they add to, temper, or enhance the primary characteristics of the other families of consciousness.

If you are a “reformer,” a “reformer by nature,” then the Sumari characteristics, brought to the surface, could help you temper your seriousness with play and humor, and actually assist you in achieving your reforms far easier then otherwise. each personality carries traces of other characteristics besides those of the family of consciousness to which he or she might belong. The creative aspects of the Sumari can be particularly useful if those aspects are encouraged in any personality, simply because their inventive nature throws light on all elements of experience.

The psyche as we know it, then, is composed of a mixture of these families of consciousness. One is not superior to the others. They are just different, and they represent various ways of looking at physical life. The existence of psychic groupings, and the difference be tween probable and reincarnational selves, counterparts and families of consciousness. At times contradictions may seem to exist. We may wonder how we are us in the midst of such multitudinous psychic “variations.”

As our brothers or sisters might belong to the same physical family, so generally are us and our counterparts part of the same psychic group of consciousness. Remember that these psychic groups are like natural formations into which consciousness seems to flow. Our own interests, desires, and abilities are not predetermined by our membership in a given psychic family.

For example, we are not creatively playful because we are “Sumari” Instead, we join the Sumari grouping because we are creatively playful. The groupings of consciousness, then, are not to be equated with say, astrological houses.

Taking the Sumari as an example, there can be overly intent, ponderous, or simple dour Sumari who have not learned to use their creativity graciously, or with joy. Yet that joyful use of ability will be their intent. At particular periods of history, in our terms, different families may predominate.

The psychic groups, however, overlap physical and national ones. The Sumari are extremely independent, for instance, and as a rule we will not find hem born into countries with dictatorships. When they do so appear, their work may set a spark that brings about changes, but they seldom take joint political action. Their creativity is very threatening to such a society.

However, the Sumari are practical in that they bring creative visions into physical reality, and try to live their lives accordingly. They are initiators, yet they make little attempt to preserve organizations, even ones they feel to be fairly beneficial. They are not lawbreakers by design or intent. They are not reformers in the society or culture. they are given to art, but in its broadest sense, trying to make an “art” of living, for example. They have been a part of most civilization, though they appeared in the Middle ages (A.D.476- A.D. 1450) least of all. They often come to full strength before great social changes. Others might build social structures from their work, for example, but the Sumari themselves, while pleased, will usually not be able to feel any intuitive sense of belonging with any structured group.

There is no correlation between the families of consciousness and bodily characteristics, however. many of the Sumari choose to be born in the springtime, but all those born in the spring are not Sumari, and no general rule applies there. They also have a liking for certain races, but again no specific rules apply. Many of the Irish, the Jews, the Spanish, and some lesser numbers of the French, for instance, are Sumari–though they appear in all races.

Generally speaking, America has not been a Sumari nation, nor have the Scandinavian countries or England. Psychically speaking, the Sumari often very nicely arrange existences in which they are a minority–in a democracy, say, so that they can work at their art within a fairly stable political situation. They are not interested in government, yet they do rely upon it to that extent. They are apt to be self-reliant within that framework. Their recognized artistic abilities may predominate or be fairly minimal.

Sumari is a state of mind, a slant of being. They are not fighters, nor will they generally advocate a violent overthrow of government or mores. They believe in the creativity of change, naturally occurring

Nevertheless, they are often part of the cultural underground simply because they are seldom conformers. A Sumari is very uncomfortable as a member of any large commercial venture, particularly if the work involves habitual or boring routine. They are not happy on assembly lines. They like to play with details– or to use them for creative purposes. They often go from one job or profession to another for that reason.

If we begin to look into the nature of oneself, and feel intuitively that we are  a Sumari, then we should look for a position in which we can use our inventiveness. Sumari enjoy theoretical mathematics, for example, yet make miserable bookkeepers.

In the arts, Picasso was a Sumari. Many entertainers are Sumari. We seldom find then in politics. They are not usually historians.

There are few with any position within organized religions. Because of their feelings of self-reliance, however, we can find them as farmers, working intuitively with the land. They are equally divided between the sexes. In our society, whoever, Sumari qualities in the male have until lately been frowned upon to some degree.

There are no duplicates. Yet, we may say, are not some thoughts duplicates?  The variations may indeed be slight, but variations are always present. A thought transmitted knowingly or unknowingly by A. is not precisely the same thought when it reaches receiver B.

The thought originally held by A. is still retained by A., yet a seemingly identical thought reaches B. A. has lost nothing. That is, in trying to send the thought, in trying to duplicate the thought, A. still retains it. So what is passed on to receiver B.? This is rather important, since an explanation will do much to account for the frequent difference that occurs in telepathic communications.

Whether o r not A. the sender, knowingly transmits this apparent duplicate, at the point of its transmission, the sender forms an electrical impulse pattern that is supposed to duplicate the original thought. But no such identical duplication is possible, as far as I know, within reality of any kind.

A side note: identical twins are hardly identical, for example.

As soon as the attempt is made to duplicate the thought, we find the attempt itself strains and pulls; the impulse changes minutely, or to a greater degree. The point I want to make is that any attempt at duplication actually forces the thought it is already a new thought, bearing great resemblance to the original. But it is not the original thought.

Prime identities cannot be duplicated. Exact duplication is always an effect of insufficient knowledge. In some cases two thoughts may appear identical, but whether or not examination can show it, such exact duplication is impossible. Now when receiver B. receives a transmitted thought, he may react and interpret that part of the thought that is similar to the original.

He may , on the other hand, react to and interpret that portion of the thought that is not similar. He may react to and interpret the similarity of the difference. His reactions depend upon several circumstances, including the intensity of the electrical pulsations that compose the thought, and his own inner facility in reaching to particular ranges of intensities.

Habitually, individuals establish overall frequencies that they are able to handle, for various reasons. An individual will therefore feel more at home operating within certain frequencies. The original thought is used as a pattern for the creation of a new electrical reality which may or may not be directed at any given receiver. It is obvious that the attempt to duplicate is present: were it not for this attempt to duplicate, then there would be little similarity between any separate identities.

The nature of the thought that is received by B. is determined by many factors. We shall consider but a few of these. These include the original intensity of the thought as A.; the familiarity or unfamiliarity of the range of frequencies that compose the thought to any intended receiver.

The receiver will understand and interpret in general the intensity range he is in the habit of using himself. Some, or a portion of the transmitted thought, may fall within his range and some may not. He may pick up the portions of the thought which are similar to the original thought which are similar to the original thought, in which case some scientific proof of sorts can be achieved. It can happen, however, that the dissimilarity is what falls within his particular accustomed range, in which case proof will be inadequate.

Emotions also possess an electrical reality. Thoughts formed and sent out within the impulse range of emotion often succeed because of the peculiar nature of the emotional electrical impulses themselves. They have a particularly strong electrical mass. They also usually fall within powerful intensities, for reasons. Thoughts formed under a strong emotional impetus will carry greater vividness, have a greater tendency toward duplication, and are apt to be interpreted with some success.

Also, all individuals have had familiarity with emotions as they exist within electrical intensities, and are accustomed to reacting to them. The whole process in instantaneous. However, the thought which is now an approximation of the original thought is changed once more by the receiver himself. He does not actually interpret the thought itself. He interpret the thought itself. He interprets its meaning and forms a new thought identity.

Action, the very action of transmission, alters the nature and electrical reality of the thought itself.

Our imaginary sender A. does not transmit a given thought. He does not even send an exact duplicate. Nor does the receiver receive the thought in the same condition. The original thought is retained by A. A. forms a thought as nearly identical as possibilities allow it to be. This he transmits to B. But B. can’t receive the thought in its present condition, for the action of receiving a thought also changes it. He forms a thought as nearly identical as possible for him and interprets it.

Action can never be considered apart from that which is seemingly acted upon, for action becomes part of structure. Action begins from within and is a result of inner vitality inherent in all realities. Action is not alone. It is not an identity. ACTION IS A DIMENSION OF EXISTENCE.

They bring forth the greater comprehension of each self, or itself. For lives come and gone, as we might for fond dreams barely recalled.

They represent a present unique beyond telling, alive in each consciousness, more important than we recognize. There are no real rules to be followed that will bring us into such an encounter with the present moment of reality– only a trust in the nature of our being. And that trust is within us whether or not we recognize it, for it gives us our present experience; and no matter how our mind questions, it rides security in the real creativity of the soul.

That soul constantly creates the body, and each individual on the face of the earth at any given time places his or her trust in that reality. That feeling of certainty is the same that any plant knows. Any idea, creative insight, or dream, rides upon the same sure thrust.

Those of us who do not believe in war have not experienced it. It may have surrounded us, but we did not experience it. Those of us do not believe in greed have not suffered its “consequences.” If we still see it is because it is a part of our reality. if we are honestly not greedy, yet we see greed, then perhaps we are serving as an example to others–but we form our own reality.

There are more worlds than you suppose, and in our own private experience each of us contributes to the world that we know. We and our counterparts together form it. Our physical body alone is equipped to perceive far more than we presently allow it to. Physically we are a part of every  other person upon the earth, and we have a connection with each leaf and frog and nail.

We choose the city or state or country in which we live. No one forces us to stay here unless we are looking for an excuse to remain. So we choose psychic land to another as we can journey into other parts of the physical world. Some great travelers never left the country of their birth.

Michelangelo roamed the centuries, picking up visions and ideas as others might buy postcards, journeying from one country to a foreign land. His genius shows us what we are, and yet it is but a hint of the potential with which our species is endowed.

In the light of such ideals, surely seem wanting–yet our reality is one in which the greatest freedoms have been allowed. This means that we have given ourselves full range so that all probabilities could be explored, and none left out that were physically feasible.

This species gave itself no “preordained” taboos.

The infinite ranges possible to human capabilities would be explored–and those who chose that route said, “we will trust that our creativity will find its own way, and if there are nightmares we will waken from them. We will even learn from them. We will dare to push aside the dimensions of being into those our humanity its meaning. And through the compassion that we have learned, will we be able to understand the divine errors that gave us the gift of our birth. Souls and molecules each are learning, each are forming realities, each are a part of a divinity in which each counterpart has a part to play.

He or she is simply their creator, and he or her creates because he or she does not attempt to control.

When we try to control power or people, we always copy. To some extent the world copies itself, in that there are patterns. Those patterns are always changed to one extent or another, so that no object is ever a copy of another–though it may appear to be the same.

In our terms, the world is intensely different from one moment to another, with each smallest portion of consciousness choosing its reality from a field of infinite probabilities. Immense calculations, far beyond our conscious decisions as we think of them, are probable only because of the unutterable freedom that resides within minute worlds inside our skull– patterns of interrelationships, counterparts so cunningly woven that each is unique, freewheeling, and involved in an infinite cooperative venture so powerful that the atoms stay in certain forms, and the same stars shine in the sky.

The familiar and strange are intimately connected in our most obvious, our simplest utterance. We are surrounded by miracles. Why, then, does the world so often seem dour and cruel? Why do our fellow beings, sometimes seem like unfeeling monsters–Frankenstein not of body but of mind, spiritual idiots, ignorant of any heritage of love or truth or even graceful beast-hood? Why does it seem to many of us that the race, the species, is doomed? Why do some of us feel, in our quiet moments, such a sentence just?

We make our own reality.