Quest Magazine

By Edward Tick

Originally printed in the MARCH-APRIL 2006 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Tick, Edward. "When the Bull Kicks and the Dragon Roars: ON HURRICANES." Quest  94.2 (MARCH-APRIL 2006):63-66.

What forces and processes might be emerging through the recent titanic visits from nature in the form of hurricanes, earthquakes, and typhoons?

The ancient Minoans, whose civilization was the last of the Great Goddess cultures, believed that a giant bull lived beneath the sea. When their Mediterranean homeland experienced destructive earthquakes, volcanoes, or storms, it was a sign to the Minoans that they had fallen out of balance with nature and the cosmos. In order to demand the human community to restore balance in its relationship to the natural world, the bull beneath the sea kicked and raged, resulting in the storms.

In Chinese and Vietnamese mythologies, the Jade Emperor, in a manner similar to Zeus and Jehovah in Western traditions, ruled from his heavenly palace where he was in charge of administering justice in the cosmos. When he viewed bad leadership among mortals, the emperor could order the dragon, the spirit who ruled the waters, to send or withhold rains and winds, causing flooding, hurricanes, or drought. In these ways the celestial emperor tried to influence earthly rulers to oversee their policies with compassion, honesty, and generosity and to correct their mistakes.

And in our Western tradition, the Bible indicates that the destructive powers of nature can be used by the Divine to punish, correct, or test mortals. For example, the ten plagues were sent upon Pharaoh and the Egyptians in order to convince them to free the Israelite slaves. The plagues unleashed the destructive powers of nature in the form of extremes—too many frogs, gnats, flies, locusts, animal and human ailments, and destructive storms. Reminiscent of recent hurricanes, Exodus tells us that one plague consisted of a terrible storm in which thunder, hail, and fire rained upon the earth "such as had never been in all the land." It struck down "both man and beast, and . . . every plant . . . and shattered every tree"

Hurricanes Katrina, Rita, and Wilma hit the Gulf Coast 3,500 years after Minoan civilization disappeared and as long since Asian Bronze Age rice farmers beat their drums to call the dragon or ancient Israelites saw the divine hand in devastating storms. In his belated address to the American people in Katrina's aftermath, George W. Bush called the hurricane "a cruel and wasteful storm." He characterized survivors as people "looking for meaning in a tragedy that appears so blind and random." Citing the Chicago fire, San Francisco earthquake, and Depression-era dustbowl, he declared, "Every time, the people of this land have come back from fire, flood, and storm to build anew, and to build better than we had before." He promised to spare no expense in this rebuilding. And he summarized a core Western belief: "Americans have never left our destiny to the whims of nature, and we will not start now."

At the same time as our president sounded these defiant words in New Orleans, around the planet nature showed her imbalance. An earthquake in Pakistan killed tens of thousands of people. Mudslides in Guatemala buried villages. Two typhoons, the Pacific Ocean's equivalent of hurricanes, hit Vietnam's coast and China's offshore islands about the same time as Katerina hit here, cutting a swath of ruin across northern Vietnam and into Laos. Typhoons Khanun and Damrey, known simply as Storm number 7 in Vietnam, washed away many thousands of hectares of rice fields and tens of thousands of homes. Schools and classrooms collapsed. River levies and dams were destroyed. Scores of people were killed when a flood swept through a small commune in Yen Bai Province; sixty-five people were lost from one small farming village alone. In a tragedy the entire nation mourned, in a commune in Phu Tho Province, one six year-old boy lost his parents, grandparents, and all siblings.

The suffering and loss caused by these recent cataclysms forces us to look again at our relation to nature and the Divine. In the West, political and media commentators often personify such imbalances, labeling them as furious, cruel, or random, insinuating that nature itself is malevolent toward us. Ancient and modern American philosophies present a sharp contrast in the interpretation of nature, our proper relationship to it, and the causes of events like these.

New Orleans, America's busiest port city, is built on unstable and terrain that is below sea level and has been reclaimed by the ocean innumerable times in earth history. Early explorers claimed that this site was too inhospitable and for human habitation. In contrast, the capital of Minoan civilization was served by a busy but small port built on the northern coast of Crete, the site of modern-day Iraklion. For protection from natural and human dangers, the great palace and city of Knossos was built three miles inland from its port.

These simple facts demonstrate both spiritual and practical differences between ancient, earth-based philosophies and our modern worldview. People who know the sea and the weather also know the mutability of the planet and of living beings, including us. They intimately know all the elements—earth, air, fire, water. They know that each is necessary to our survival and can be our friend. Each contains potent forces that, when unbalanced through disrespect or misuse, or through imposed or unnatural controls that attempt to bend it to our will, can erupt and cause serious disturbances in our individual bodies and minds, our cultures, and our environment. People who respect and understand the powers of the sea and the earth would not build great and populous cities or locate the majority of their fuel refineries on volatile coastlines. Rather, people with earth wisdom and holistic awareness would preserve and protect their coastlines and work with rather than in opposition to nature for the sake of the earth and its creatures' health and well-being.

Traditional earth-based civilizations did not think of nature as whimsical or random but intelligent and patterned. Confucianism taught that the cosmos and its heavenly bodies were all born out of the body of the original being P'an Ku; when he died his flesh became the earth. Lao Tzu asked, "Can you keep clear in your mind the four quarters of earth and not interfere?" And Plato taught that the key to healing any system from individual to society was to bring friendship and reconciliation back to those elements that had fallen into conflict. Earth-based peoples knew that we must study and respect the forces of nature, shape our personal and collective lives in harmony with them, and correct our lives when we fall out of harmony.

In the earth-based view, nature is just nature, doing what nature does. The sea sometimes erupts; the earth sometimes quakes. These powers are inherent in the earth, just as its beauty and serenity are. We cannot know when or where eruption might occur; any of us may be caught in it, demonstrating life's preciousness and fragility. Reflecting on the recent storms, Vuong Toan Nam, a young man from the countryside studying in Hanoi said, "Now in Vietnam we do not have a new hurricane, but who can know what is coming tomorrow?"

Though nature may treat individuals as expendable or appear to strike arbitrarily its grand patterns and inner laws are not cruel, random, or whimsical. They only look that way to our anthropocentric view that values our oceanfront restaurants, amusement parks, high-rise condos, and summer homes more highly than the health of our waters, dunes, marshes, and wildlife. This consciousness evaluates an event primarily from an egocentric position: how does it affect me rather than the whole and the future?

Holistic healing for individuals, and for humanity at large, cannot be separated from the health of the planet. As the ecological-medicine movement argues, the entire earth is ailing and must be our "patient," our focus of concern. The precautionary principle, championed by Carolyn Raffensperger, executive director of the Science and Environmental Health Network, argues that we must extend the healing imperative of "First, do no harm" to our entire planet. All living systems, whether of an individual or the planet, are breathing, communicating, interactive wholes. We must not take any actions that purposely harm any part of that whole, even if those actions are meant to stop something else that may be harmful. If we do, we will inevitably hurt the functioning and health of the whole.

We are not just dealing with philosophical matters. Mythic and spiritual approaches view natural cataclysms as responses or counterbalances to how we are living our relationship to nature. They are meant to offer us a pragmatic philosophy, demonstrating how we can live good lives. Thus we can also view the great contrast between East and West and its commentary on how we live with nature and each other by examining the differing ways that China and Vietnam responded to their typhoons in comparison to the United States' Katrina aftermath.

It is much remarked that our government failed to offer effective disaster relief after the string of hurricanes battered the American southern coast. Over one thousand people died in Katrina and the region is devastated, with losses totaling many billions of dollars. Summarizing the aftermath of the typhoons in southeast Asia, the worst in a decade for Vietnam and in three for China, Workers World reported that "both countries managed to carry out efficient, rapid and large-scale evacuations of their populations without the astounding traffic jams or . . . abandonment of the poor, elderly, ill and people of color that so characterized the Hurricane Katrina crisis." The report wonders how "an economically poor country like Viet Nam and a rapidly developing country like China succeed in this area when the most powerful . . . failed so dramatically? The answer is priorities and organization."

Though these typhoons did result in over 100 deaths, using public service equipment of every kind, China evacuated 1.8 million people and Vietnam 300,000; 35,000 boats were secured. Immediate efforts were made to rescue every person, who was in danger, including the poor. Immediate supplies and medical relief were delivered to millions. The military were used as national guard are meant to be—to rescue the stranded, repair dikes, clean up the aftermath, and rebuild homes.

Poor countries successfully responded to the same kind of natural disaster that tore gaping holes in America's self-image and social fabric. The painfully inadequate American response revealed a cruel underlying class system whereby the availability of resources are based one's wealth. In contrast, the much older social systems from the East evolved long ago to address the essential Confucian question: how can we best get along? They are based in principles of cooperation and acceptance and the everyday wisdom developed from millennia of experiencing nature's patterns and cycles. Based upon Buddhist principles of acceptance of what is, and Confucian pragmatics of caring for all in an orderly and fair society, these cultures tended their afflicted people far better than we did with our far greater resources. Neither the wealth, the oratory, nor the persona of power rescue, tend, heal and hold the commonweal together. Rather, it is done with love, inclusiveness, fairness, and generosity. Extending these toward all constitutes true democracy.

We do not know to what extent the many severe storms of our era are due to global warming or natural cycles. But we do know that we have just experienced the worst storm season since record keeping began. We know that we are severely interrupting the natural cycles and that the body of our Mother Earth is poisoned, disturbed, heating up, and out of harmony. And we know that, unlike the Minoans, we design and build cities in arrogant opposition to nature rather than in harmony with her.

We must grieve and mercifully tend the great loss and suffering caused by the hurricanes. And we should be humbled by it as we are humbled by the illnesses and deaths of our friends and loved ones. To oppose nature, in individual or collective lives, is to guarantee that we will be stricken again and our suffering will increase manyfold.

But if the great bull or the dragon is bringing storms to correct our imbalanced ways, why are so many of the world's poorest regions being devastated and its poorest peoples ravaged? Why do they not just hit the world's capitals and corporate headquarters where decisions are made to control, consume, and pollute without regard?

We discover a terrible double meaning in Jesus' declaration that the meek shall inherit the earth. The poor are usually closest to the earth, fishing and working it, drawing their sustenance directly from it. Or they live in the inner cities, with fewest resources and no means of escape. The most vulnerable will suffer the most, demonstrating the ancient wisdom that rulers must be just, compassionate, and generous. If they are not, their people will inevitably suffer.

Nature is democratic. She does not differentiate the good and the bad among us. She demonstrates that we share a common fate. Observing the worldwide devastation from global warming must teach us that we have not yet truly learned that we are one planet, that how we live on our side of the globe does indeed, to the point of life and death, shape the lives of our impoverished neighbors on the far side. And enlightened, compassionate, and responsible leadership is essential.

We can view our recent calamities through mythic eyes. Tran Dinh Song, a tour leader and teacher of literature and languages in Vietnam, observed, "Confucian teachings declare that if a ruler is not good the country under his reign may be punished by nature. We cannot miss the fact that a great many hurricanes have attacked the United States during the Bush administration. From the standpoint of Asian philosophies, this may not be accidental but what the ancients meant by visits from the dragon sent by the Jade Emperor." From the holistic and the traditional view, people and their rulers are inseparable; for better and for worse, the values, character, and actions of one will always affect the other.

We are challenged to learn and grow from all that afflicts us. But so much of our way of life is designed as protection from nature and fate. African healer and teacher Maladoma Some observed that initiation is possible not just during expected life passages, but during any life crisis. Whenever we are put through an ordeal we have the possibility of maturing and gaining wisdom. But, Some argued, when we are unduly protected from the ordeal—for example, when our insurance pays to replace everything that we have lost—then we are in danger of not learning of gaining no insight or wisdom from our travails. Life and nature send their trials, but part of our tragedy is that we remain unchanged by them.

So rebuild New Orleans. Restore homes, lives, hope—but not in the same old ways that oppose nature. Not by throwing billions of dollars at the region with no transformative vision so that we make it the same as it was before only, as President Bush promised, "better than ever." Not so that we can continue to resist nature's inevitable surges and oppose its patterns and laws with our own technology-driven arrogance. To envision a future that heals us, "better" must mean wiser, more compassionate, respectful, and cooperative toward the environment, more generous, loving, and protective toward the poor, and more concerned with creating life-sustaining community for people and ecosystems.

We cannot merely replace New Orleans with the fantasy that nothing has changed. Politically we speak of living in a post-9-11 world. Similarly, we must consider what it means to live in a post-Katrina world as well. We must ask, ecologically and politically, socially and spiritually, what that world looks like, what its rules and patterns are, what kind of leadership and society we must shape to live well in it.

We must accept and grieve that the New Orleans we knew and loved is gone. And we must learn our lessons in life's most difficult classrooms. Minoan civilization was eventually destroyed when the great volcano on Santorini spewed forth what was perhaps the largest such explosion in human history. All we build will eventually fall. But the New Orleans we know and love was destroyed less than three hundred years after its founding, while Minoan civilization lasted two millennia.

Originally printed in the March - April  2001 issue of Quest magazine.
Citation: Algeo, John. "Reincarnation: the Evidence." Quest  89.2 (MARCH - APRIL  2001): 44-50.

John Algeo

Reincarnation has become as American as apple pie, the Super Bowl, and our conviction that anybody can grow up to be president. In the 1980s, several Gallup Polls established that about a quarter of Americans believe in reincarnation. At the present time, one of the main e-commerce booksellers lists 649 books for the keyword "reincarnation," and another lists 836. The widespread acceptance of reincarnation is a result, to a large extent indirectly of course, of its promulgation by the Theosophical Society. A recent work on "alternative" or "new" religious movements in this country (Philip Jenkins, Mystics and Messiahs, Oxford University Press, 2000) points out the disproportionate effect this small organization has had on general thought:

Though the U.S. Census in 1926 found fewer than seven thousand declared Theosophists in the entire nation, that movement had already succeeded in making its views a familiar component of religious thought. [10]

We might for instance observe the spread of ideas of reincarnation and karma, together with associated traditions like meditation and yoga. In the early twentieth century, all of these were associated with Theosophy . . . [but now] the theories have entered the religious mainstream. [230]

Reincarnation is not an article of faith, but a theory. It is (as Merriam-Webster's Collegiate Dictionary defines "theory") a "principle . . .offered to explain phenomena." For most people who believe in reincarnation, the phenomena it explains are chiefly subjective--their own experiences or observations. It is an idea that "makes sense." Although objective facts as evidence for reincarnation are not abundant, they do exist. And a set of recent books provides just such evidence:

Where Reincarnation and Biology Intersect
By Ian Stevenson
Westport CT: Praeger, 1997. Cloth,
59.95; paper, $17.95, xviii + 203 pages.

Reincarnation and Biology:
A Contribution to the Etiology of 
Birthmarks and Birth Defects. 2 volumes.
By Ian Stevenson. Westport. CT: Praeger,
1997. Cloth, $195.00, xx + 2268 pages.

These books are arguably the most important works ever published on the subject of reincarnation, and their author, Ian Stevenson, is the world's leading authority on the subject. Carlton Professor of Psychiatry at the University of Virginia, he is the author of more than a dozen scholarly books and 250 articles. His special area of research has been purported cases of memories by children of prior incarnations. His earlier works on the subject include The Evidence for Survival from Claimed Memories of Former Incarnations (1961),Twenty Cases Suggestive of Reincarnation (1974), Cases of the ReincarnationType, 4 volumes (1975-83), and Children Who Remember Previous Lives: A Question of Reincarnation (1987).

Stevenson has meticulously investigated at first hand the accounts of children who apparently remember an earlier incarnation. His investigations include not only the child who reports the memories and the persons around that child, but also the actual family, locale, circumstances, and events of the remembered life. The cumulative evidence of Stevenson's cases is so impressively massive and detailed that alternative explanations of chance or fraud (deliberate or unconscious) are improbable in the extreme. As Stevenson points out, unless one begins with the assumption that reincarnation is impossible, it is the simple stand most convincing explanation for a large number of cases.

What makes the evidence reported in Stevenson's most recent books so impressive, however, is that they add something new to his earlier studies, which dealt with reported memories and his investigative confirmation of the accuracy of those memories. This something new is physical bodily evidence in the form of birthmarks or birth defects on the body of the person who remembers a previous life. Those marks or defects match attested wounds or other physical anomalies on the body of the prior personality.

For example, a child may remember having lived another life including enough details about it (names, places, events) to permit investigators to identify the earlier personality. That personality died from a gunshot wound, and medical or coroner's records establish the location of the entering and exiting wound marks made by the fatal bullet. The child who remembers the earlier life has birthmarks on places that correspond to the wounds of the prior personality. Moreover, the birthmark corresponding to the exit wound is larger than the birthmark corresponding to the entry wound, just as the wounds themselves were, that being the normal pattern for bullet wounds. That is one type of case out of many involving birthmarks and defects.

The two hefty volumes of Reincarnation and Biology present extensive reports on cases of several types: volume 1 devoted to birthmarks and volume 2 to birth defects and other anomalies. Many of the detailed accounts include photographs.The much more concise book Where Reincarnation and Biology Intersect corresponds chapter by chapter with the two-volume one but abridges and summarizes the material and is addressed to a general reader. The fuller two volumes, on the other hand, contain a good deal of technical detail and far more specific accounts of the evidence. For most readers, the shorter book will suffice, but anyone seriously interested in a scientific investigation of evidence for reincarnation should consult the longer version. And even a casual reader will find some of the detail in the two-volume set of absorbing interest.

A question that naturally arises is how the phenomenon works. Assuming that the memories of a former life are true, what causes unusual marks on a new infant body to correspond to physical abnormalities on the body of a former personality? Stevenson considers that question in chapters 2 and 3, where he points to several circumstances under which modifications in a person's body can be made by mental rather than physical intervention. Christian stigmatics are a well-known example; persons meditating on the crucified Jesus may undergo bodily changes in which marks or open wounds appear on their foreheads, palms, feet, sides, or other places corresponding to scriptural or iconographic details of the Passion.

Other such examples abound. A mother, sibling, or spouse may have sympathetic pains and physical symptoms corresponding to those of a loved family member. Hypnotic suggestion can modify bodily functions and produce physical changes. Memories of a physical trauma suffered earlier in life can produce bodily changes that mimic the original effects of the trauma. The intense thoughts of a pregnant woman have been known to correspond with, and perhaps to cause, physical features in the embryo and resulting child.

Although the idea runs counter to the materialist assumptions that still dominate received opinion in our culture, it is clear that our mind affects our body, just as our body affects our mind. Because that is true, if reincarnation is also true, it is easy to understand that the mind of a reincarnating person (one who reincarnates quickly, with something of the prior mind intact) would affect the new body, especially when traumatic memories are involved. Thus birthmarks and birth defects would be the physical impressions of memories carried over from a past life.

Most of the twenty-six chapters in these recent books by Stevenson are case histories of various sorts illustrating the effects on a new body of memories from old lives. But two chapters (15 and 26) are especially interesting as considering the interpretation and implications of the phenomena. A reader pressed for time can gain much by skimming the case histories (which are the evidence) and reading carefully these chapters (which are the conclusions).

Ian Stevenson's work is impressive partly because it is not credulous. He considers the evidence critically. First, he is concerned with the authenticity of there ports. That is, do they "describe events with satisfactory closeness to the events as they really happened"? Second, are there "normal" explanations for the correspondences between birthmarks and the wounds of a deceased person? Could they be the result of fraud or of chance, perhaps augmented by fantasy or suggestion? Are there "paranormal" explanations, such as extrasensory perception, possession of a child by a discarnate personality, or maternal impressions on a fetus? Stevenson concludes:

I accept reincarnation as the best explanation for a case only after I have excluded all others--normal and paranormal. I conclude, however, that all the other interpretations may apply to a few cases, but to no more than a few. I believe, therefore, that reincarnation is the best explanation for the stronger cases, by which I mean those in which the two families were unacquainted before the case developed. It may well be the best explanation for many other cases also. . . . Each reader should study the evidence carefully--preferably in the monograph [the two-volume work]--and then reach his or her own conclusion. [Where Reincarnation and Biology Intersect 112-3]

In arriving at his conclusion, Stevenson does not reject the influence of genetics and environmental factors on our lives. He recognizes nature and nurture as powerful forces in molding our minds and bodies. What he proposes is that there is also a third factor, an additional powerful force, namely the effect of past lives on our present existence. The reality of that third factor has some significant implications for one's worldview.

1. To begin with, "the most important consequence would be acknowledgment of the duality of mind and body" (181). By "duality" Stevenson does not mean moral or metaphysical dualism, but rather that the mind is a reality independent of, though interactive with,the brain: "Proponents of dualism do not deny the usefulness of brains for our everyday living; but they do deny that minds are nothing but the subjective experiences of brain activity" (181). His position in this matter is much like that of William James, Henri Bergson, or Theosophy. It is that mindconsciousness exists apart from its interaction with brain consciousness, however important that interaction is during life.

2. The next implication is that there must be a "place" where the consciousness exists when it is not embodied and linked with a brain: "we are obliged to imagine a mental space that, necessarily, differs from the physical space with which we are ordinarily familiar. . . . Existence there might have features that would seem familiar to persons who have given more than average attention to their dreams . . . and to some persons who have come close to death and survived" (181). The "mental space" Stevenson alludes to here will be recognized by those familiar with Theosophical teachings about the "inner" or"higher" planes of reality, which we inhabit during sleep and between lives.

3. Another implication is that some features are transmitted from one life to another:

I have found it helpful to use the word diathanatic (which means"carried through death") as a term for subsuming the parts of a deceased person that may reach expression in a new incarnation. So what parts would be diathanatic? The cases I have described tell us that these would include: some cognitive information about events of the previous life; a variety of likes, dislikes, and other attitudes; and, in some cases, residues of physical injuries or other markings of the previous body. [181-2]

Stevenson prefers not to use the traditional terminology of philosophical and religious systems in order to avoid any extraneous associations they may have. But his "diathanatic" is very close to the Buddhist concept of "skandhas," the material, psychic, and mental residues that are carried over from one life to the next.

4. Yet another implication is that we must distinguish two "levels"of selfhood, one associated only with a single lifetime and another that stretches across lives:

 

 We may understand better the loss through death of some or much of the previous personality by using the distinction between personality and individuality. By individuality I mean all the characteristics, whether concealed or expressed, that a person might have from a previous life, or previous lives, as well as from this one. By personality I mean the aspects of individuality that are currently expressed or capable of expression.[182]

In this case, the terms and the distinction are traditional in Theosophical use, going back to Henry Steel Olcott's use of them in the early1880s for his Buddhist Catechism (as reported in his autobiographical Old Diary Leaves 1:285).

5. Next is a consideration of ways in which the reincarnating individual influences the physical body of its new incarnation. Stevenson identifies three possibilities. First, the individual may in some sense "select" its parents, motivated by strong ties of affection (or, Theosophists might add, by karmic links of whatever kind). Second, the reincarnating individual may be able to screen and select fertilized ova or embryos. Third, and most relevant to the subject of birthmarks and defects, the individual may be able to exercise some direct control over the development of the fetus to reproduce physical attributes of the body of the previous personality:

Any such direct influence implies some kind of template that imprints the embryo or fetus with "memories" of the wounds, marks, or other features of the previous physical body. The template must have a vehicle that carries the memories of the physical body and also the cognitive and behavioral ones. I have suggested the word pyschophore (which means "mind-carrying") for this intermediate vehicle. . . .

The existence between terrestrial lives is therefore, according to this view, a corporeal one, but the psychophore would not be made of the material substances with which we are familiar. . . .

. . . These and other cases suggest to me that the psychophore has the properties of a field or, more probably, a collection of fields that carry the physical and other memories of the previous life and more or less reproduce them by acting on the embryo or fetus of the new body. . . . Morphogenetic fields have been imagined as governing the development of the forms that organs and the whole body of which they are the parts will have. . . .

Readers may reasonably ask whether there exists any evidence for a vehicle such as the psychophore apart from the cases of children who remember previous lives and who have birthmarks or birth defects. The answer is not much. Nevertheless certain cases of apparitions furnish some relevant evidence. . . .

Some additional evidence for a vehicle that I have called a psychophore comes from the occurrence of phantom limbs in congenital amputees—persons born with parts of limbs missing. [183-4]

The tenor of the long though abridged quotation above will seem very familiar to anyone versed in the Theosophical tradition. For that tradition holds that in addition to our dense physical body, we have several other bodies or vehicles composed of matter of various kinds different from ordinary physical stuff: etheric or vital, astral or emotional, and manasic or mental matter. These bodies exist on the "inner" or "higher" planes or in other "fields" than the dense physical. They carry the "diathanatic" or "skandhic" qualities from one incarnation to the next, and the etheric or vital body serves in particular as a template for the growth and development of the dense physical body.

Although the cases reported in these volumes show a great deal of variation, some features are characteristic, and those features are of interest in suggesting why some children remember their prior incarnation and even have signs of it in their new body. In a large number of these cases, the earlier life ended prematurely by violence. The reincarnation then happened quickly and in the same culture as the preceding life. And the violent ending of the earlier life so impressed the psychophore that it in turn passed on the impression to the new body in the form of a birthmark or defect.

It is as though a life was ended before its purpose had been achieved, so the individual was drawn back into the same milieu to finish the uncompleted experience. The Theosophical tradition is that normally a long period of time (centuries or even millennia) elapse between incarnations, during which time the psychophore (or collection of bodies on the inner planes) undergoes a process by which its experience in the past life is absorbed into the permanent individuality.

When the normal process is violently interrupted, however, it would seem natural that the individual might be quickly attracted back into the same circumstances as the last life. In that case, there would not be time between lives for the psychophore to be "cleansed" of its past memories, which would therefore be incorporated into the new personality. As the individual settles into the new body and new impressions come from the senses into the new brain, however, the old memories from the past life are overwritten and die out. According to Stevenson, a child begins to talk about a past life very early, almost as soon as it learns to talk, but between the ages of 5 and 8, active memories of the past life are generally gone.

At the end of the volume, Stevenson repeats his caveat:

I do not propose reincarnation as a substitute for present or future knowledge of genetics and environmental influences. I think of it as a third factor contributing to the formation of human personality and of some physical features and abnormalities. I am, however, convinced that it deserves attention for the additional explanatory value that it has for numerous unsolved problems of psychology and medicine. . . . We may, after all, been gaged in a dual evolution--of our bodies and of our minds or souls.[186-7]

The last sentence above, with which Stevenson ends the book directed to a general reader, states a purpose for reincarnation with which the Theosophical tradition is wholly in accord. The purpose of our many lives is to further the evolutionary development of our minds and souls. It is remarkable, though not unique, to see such agreement between the careful investigation of a scientist and the hundred and twenty-five year old tradition of modern Theosophy.

A popular, well-written, and perceptive account of Ian Stevenson's work has recently appeared:

Old Souls: The Scientific Evidence for Past Lives.
By Tom Shroder. 
New York: Simon & Schuster, 1999.
Cloth, $24.00, 256 pages.

The author of this book, Tom Shroder, is a Pulitzer-Prize winning editor of the Miami Herald who is now an editor for the Washington Post. While with the Miami Herald, he wrote an article on the Miami psychiatrist Brian Weiss, whose use of hypnotic retrogression to elicit putative memories of past incarnations resulted in the popular 1988 book Many Lives, Many Masters. Shroder found Weiss's work unconvincing as evidence for reincarnation, but through it he came into contact with Ian Stevenson, and thereby wrote this book.

Shroder accompanied Stevenson on two trips, in 1997 to Lebanon and later to India, to observe Stevenson's methods of fieldwork as he investigated cases of reported child memories of former lives. After returning to America, Shroder investigated some cases of the same sort in the South. Shroder's account of those experiences is set forth with the skill of a master reporter. The reader of this book learns both the facts of the cases and their value as evidence as analyzed by a neutral observer. Shroder's account also gives the reader a feeling for the frustration, the danger, and the culture shock of doing such research in third-world countries.

In addition, the reader gets an intimate view of Stevenson, the man and scientist, who has devoted his life to an investigation that his peers would prefer not to be bothered by. Their preference is due partly to his methods,which necessarily violate some widely accepted criteria of what can count as scientific research, and partly to the fact that they have already ruled out the possibility of his conclusions being acceptable. As one critic quoted by Shroder(146) puts it: "The problem lies less in the quality of data Stevenson adduces to prove his point, than in the body of knowledge and theory which must be abandoned or radically modified in order to accept it." Stevenson's response (210) is a commonplace in the history of science:

"There's an old aphorism," he said heavily. " 'Science changes one funeral at a time.' There is a powerful conservatism among the scientific establishment. You don't persuade people with your evidence. They have to pretty much die off for new ideas to come to the fore."

Much of the power of this highly readable book comes from the fact that the author himself, while not doubting the facts of Stevenson's cases, since he participated in the investigation of some of them, is still undecided about their interpretation at the end of the book. What he witnessed cannot be explained away as fraud, coincidence, delusion, or any of the ordinary options. Something is going on that is different from what we expect in the everyday universe. But what?

Memory of a past incarnation is one possible explanation, the author thinks, but the universe is full of surprises and unexpected turns. Maybe the apparent memories are something else even more mysterious and weird. In either case, they challenge "the body of knowledge and theory which must be abandoned or radically modified" in response to them. At the end of the book,Shroder recounts an investigation he did himself into the case of a boy in Virginia who remembered events unconnected with his present life, whose accuracy Shroder's research confirmed. The last chapter ends with an unanswered question the boy asked about his memories: "Why is that, Mom?" It is Shroder's question as well.

Ian Stevenson's point is simply that if we want an explanation for certain mysteries he has studied, the simplest, most adequate, and therefore best explanation is reincarnation. Reincarnation is often understood very simplistically. And simplistic views are almost always wrong. But a wrong simplistic view does not invalidate a more sophisticated one that accounts for the facts.

Finally, evidence of another kind, not of the reality of reincarnation, but of interest in it, is supplied by two recent bibliographies on the subject:

 Reincarnation: A Bibliography
By Joel Bjorling. 
New York:
Garland, 1996.  Cloth, 29.00, x + 184 pages.

Reincarnation: A Selected Annotated Bibliography
By Lynn Kear.
Westport, CT: Greenwood, 1996.
Cloth, $75.00, xiv + 327 pages.

The Bjorling bibliography lists 1612 works on reincarnation divided among ten chapters organized by subjects. Most of the chapters have introductory essays on their subjects, ranging from "Eastern Religions and Reincarnation" to "Reincarnation in Literature." The subjects are inevitably overlapping, but provide some structure for a user seeking references to a particular aspect of the subject.

The Kear bibliography lists 562 works on reincarnation alphabetically by title. Its distinguishing feature is that the entries are annotated, generally with short quotations from the work defining its purpose or stating key concepts and often with a list of the contents of the work. The annotations serve the helpful purpose of informing a user about the contents of a work whose title may be insufficiently descriptive.

Both bibliographies are limited to works in the English language. Kear lists only books; Bjorling, both books and articles. Bjorling lists far more titles; but Kear gives far more information about each title. Both bibliographies are useful, though in different ways, so they are complementary.