Letter 50009: Though you know my mind well, you may not realize how much I long for your company.

Augustine of HippoNebridius|c. 405 AD|Augustine of Hippo
friendshipgrief deathillness

Augustine to his dear friend Nebridius -- greetings.

1. Though you know my mind well, you may not realize how much I long for your company. God will grant me this great blessing someday. I have read your letter -- so genuine in every word -- in which you lament your solitude and the sense of being abandoned by the friends whose companionship was life's sweetest pleasure for you.

What can I suggest, other than what I am sure you are already doing? Talk with your own soul, and lift it up, as far as you can, to God. For in Him you hold us by a bond far stronger than bodily images -- which, for the time being, are all we have for remembering each other -- through that faculty of thought by which we grasp the reality of our separation.

2. As I worked through your letters, answering questions that were anything but small in difficulty or importance, I was especially struck by the one in which you ask how certain thoughts and dreams are implanted in our minds by higher powers or superhuman agents. This is a profound question, and as your own good sense must tell you, answering it properly would require not a letter but a full conversation or an entire treatise.

Still, knowing your abilities, I will try to scatter a few seeds of thought that may shed some light, so that you can either work out a complete treatment on your own or at least not despair of this important subject being investigated satisfactorily.

3. It is my view that every movement of the mind affects the body in some degree. We know this is evident even to our dull and sluggish senses when the mind's movements are strong enough -- when we are angry, sad, or joyful. From this we may infer that when thought is quietly at work, there may be a corresponding bodily effect imperceptible to us, yet perfectly perceptible to beings of an ethereal nature whose perceptive faculties are so extraordinarily acute that, compared to theirs, ours scarcely deserve the name.

These footprints of mental movement, so to speak, which the mind stamps upon the body, may not only persist but persist with something like the force of habit. And it may be that when these are secretly stirred and played upon, they carry thoughts and dreams into our minds according to the will of whatever being is activating them. This could happen with astonishing ease. For if our own earthbound, sluggish bodies can achieve things in physical training that seem almost unbelievable -- playing musical instruments, walking the tightrope, and so on -- then it is perfectly reasonable to suppose that beings with the powers of an ethereal body, who can pass unimpeded through our bodies by the very constitution of their nature, would be capable of far greater speed in moving whatever they wish, while we, though unaware of what they are doing, are nevertheless affected by the results.

We have a rough parallel in the fact that we do not perceive how excess bile drives us to more frequent outbursts of anger -- and yet it does, while this excess bile is itself produced by our giving in to such outbursts.

4. If you hesitate to accept this parallel when I state it so briefly, turn it over in your mind more fully. When the mind is continually obstructed by some difficulty in accomplishing what it wants, it becomes continually angry. Anger, as far as I can judge its nature, is a kind of turbulent eagerness to remove whatever restricts our freedom of action. That is why we vent anger not only on people but on things -- smashing the pen we are writing with, or the dice we are gambling with, or the brush we are painting with, or whatever tool seems to be thwarting us. Medical authorities tell us that frequent bouts of anger increase bile production. But increased bile, in turn, makes us easily angry, almost without provocation. Thus the effect the mind produces on the body through its activity is then capable of acting back on the mind in return.

5. These matters could be explored at much greater length, and our understanding deepened by drawing on many relevant observations. But take this letter together with the one I recently sent you about images and memory, and study that one a bit more carefully -- for it was clear from your reply that you had not fully grasped it. When you combine what I have said here with the portion of that earlier letter where I discussed the mind's natural faculty of adding to and subtracting from any object as it pleases, you will see how it is possible for us, both in dreams and in waking thought, to conceive images of physical forms we have never actually seen.

Modern English rendering for readability. See the 19th-century translation or original Latin/Greek for scholarly use.

Related Letters