7/03/29 [
345]'s ltr. to EC:
Dear Mr. Cayce,
Your kindly letter of the 26th received and much appreciated.
I am sure you have had similar experiences though in a
different manner. It is with a feeling of reluctance that I
write of personal affairs as it may appear a bit selfish
especially when the letter was completely about myself.
It is probably true that to gain a broader and deeper
understanding of a life and people it's necessary to
experience the joys and sorrows of others situated in a like
or similar condition. If not directly experienced it takes
understanding, born of experience, to feel and understand a
different condition as experienced by others. Wise and lucky
is the person who can thus cross bridges built by the
experiences of others.
An incident that happened yesterday is probably a good
illustration. The studio is divided into two rooms. In the
room I am in there are about six artists. Conversations are
of a general topic. Thoughts that are personal do not find
much stimulus in such surroundings. But with two or three it
is different. Vacation and what not had reduced our number
to three, Miss A., Mr. S. and myself. Things went along very
well for a while and finally Miss A, who looks at life very
scientifically and has tasted enough of its pierian spring to
believe that everything is contained in its formulas or seen
through its microscopic sporangium, after a long period of
relaxation brought up the subject of soul. With no
encouragement she provided to give a list of scientific facts
which proved the idea taboo then leaned back in her chair
sighed and with a fat hand smoothed bobbed hair from a rotund
forehead.
Mr. S. agreed and elaborated by saying that the Good Book
wasn't what grandma had claimed it to be. Before such
positive conditions I merely stated that I thought such a
thing did exist and continues to do so regardless of what I
said of the matter.
This brought forth more and more of theory and I wondered
which were better, education or understanding.
Finally I asked a few questions which was rather hard to
answer right off without the text book. Miss A. sighed from
the depths of her stout being and said she had lost so much
happiness since finding there was no soul and would like to
believe there was so she could be happy again, and asked me
why I believed there was.
I said that I had been convinced from personal experiences
that could probably show them how in their own lives they
could too.
I was told that I had two friends for life if I could show
them any proof that there was.
They wanted me to start right away but I said it would take
time and it ended thus. Each sat for a long time in silence.
Could the invisible soul do battle with a visual micron?
Thus I imagined how your thoughts must be directed to answer
such questions convincingly and how lives grow in different
directions and thoughts from different angles.
To get back to my own Ego and its problems. My problems are
green hobgoblins which look quite alike. Each is a different
phase, blood brothers you might call them for they all seem
to belong to me and I keep them in a chest and at times
ignore them. Certain ones get out at times and say "Why
didn't you do this" or that. If I neglect them all too long
they all get out and chide me quite unmercifully, and I
cannot rest until I have found the one I have offended the
most.
The rest seems to slip away when I promise to do justice to
his cause.
Thoughts about myself they seem to be.
Queer they can't be reasoned with.
Since getting the reading I have tried to reason and think of
my environment and decided to stay here. My mind was made up
I would, but I did not feel right. I remember one idea
which protested and kept jumping up with reasons and rode me
like the old man of the sea. By heeding his advice I know
the only contentment of the moment. When the leaves are
tinted with the first glow of fall and cool winds hear the
notes of migrating songsters to the Southland, it will find
me with my harvest gathered here and my face turned toward
the Northland.
What opportunities I miss I do not know but I must find out
more of this elusive quantity that makes paint more than
paint and paper more than the watermark, which means more to
the searcher than raiment; and more to the beggar than bread.
With best wishes I set forth and may the stars in their
course, God in His heaven be kindly to a fool who follows an
impulse.
But yet, quite sincerely,
[
345]
8/01/29 EC's ltr. to [
345]:
Dear [
345]
I have neglected answering yours of the 3rd, simply because I
haven't been able in my own mind to do justice to the
thoughts you expressed there; not that I want to condone or
condemn anything that was said, but I haven't known, and
don't know yet, how to answer you just as I would like to
answer you. I am sure, however, that you have been able long
before this to convince your friends and associates that
there IS still the soul - for you so beautifully expressed
it, when you said you had to find out what made the paint
more than paint, the paper more than water mark, that which
means more to the seeker than raiment and more to the beggar
than bread. That is, I am sure, the spirit of expression -
and the spirit finds its self-expression in that depicted on
the paper just as you or I are the manifestations of spirit,
and as each blade of grass, each ocean drop, each mountain,
each star, is an expression of the spirit of the infinite, or
the all creative energy that He has given (that God) to
each individual a body - NOT physical - but a body which is
the soul, that retains that impression of the spirit
association in such a way and manner as to build for itself
that which makes it equal with its God, as He has promised
that He would - or as we see in NATURE - or the individual
damns himself into oblivion through attempting to express
himself, rather than the SPIRIT itself. So, spirit may find
its way of expressing itself, on paper, at the end of a pen,
in the hewing of a long, in the building of a house, or the
building of a character.
I don't mean to get up and soar around, [
345] - but when are
you coming to see us? We are keeping very busy - a long way
ahead with appointments - a good many people in the hospital
- then we have recently had one of our business sessions of
the Board of Trustees.
Drop me a line - let me hear from you. Of course, the day is
coming when you are going to be closer to us than you are at
present - I mean physically. I know you are in spirit.
All send best regards.
Ever the same,
Edgar Cayce
8/05/29 [
345]'s ltr. to EC:
Dear Mr. Cayce,
I received your letter and was more than glad to hear from
you. I value your wisdom of both the spoken and written word
and know of nothing that gives me more satisfaction. I would
be ideally happy to just discuss things with you. The
picture in mind is of the Greek philosophers and students.
It must have been a wonderful existence. But people don't
seem to have time for that anymore.
It is dolefully quiet. Those with easy minds are far in the
land of slumber. A cool dampness drifts in the window and
the curtain is stirred by a gentle breeze from the south.
Outside a Katydid foretells his prophecy of the inevitable
frost. A brief song but unaffected by briefness he does not
hurry or slight a single note; content in living and
fulfilling his simple part in the grand symphony of things.
For after him comes hundreds and thousands of others who will
do it as good or better but that does not affect his
immediate response to the intelligence of that particular
note which contributes to the ensemble.
His note takes me back many miles and years and from the
embers of the past brings forth scenes that are dear to the
heart. Of trips through dark country lanes and meadows,
mostly with my father who never spoke but smoked in steady
contemplation. What he was thinking of I never knew. But
the Katydids they were everywhere.
In hand is a letter which tells of further scattering of the
family, as before the northwind leaves are blown. The key is
turned in the door, vines overrun the porch and from the rank
and stubble the Katydid - ever incessant.
Plans I have made. The future I have tried to pierce but to
no avail. I would not wish to know everything that is going
to happen, but rather how to work in the present for tomorrow
is the present.
He only is wise who has made many mistakes. Trees lashed by
the fury of the elements on the northside of the hill seem to
grow stronger than their more protected neighbors. Their
roots grow deeper. Plans - I can't follow them, not even the
best I make. Tried it and I know. The only plan is to work
today and tomorrow will take care of itself.
What I need is more work and it must be with the hand, head
and heart now, now, now.
In this way only can I look with any satisfaction for the
morrow. There will be cold ones and hot ones, each will have
its surprises. I will enjoy them all.
The question of soul has not been mentioned again in the
studio. The members are back again and we are suspended in a
more worldly line of gab. I am glad that the hospital is
taking care of the sick and that your work is progressing so
nicely.
With every best wish, I am
Sincerely,
[
345]
9/05/29 [
345]'s ltr. to EC:
I would like to vision a history or panoramic evolution of
man that would be pictorially symbolic along the lines of the
readings. But it must be done differently than anything I
have seen or at present know how to do. I don't know if I
will ever satisfy myself or be able to grasp that which I
seek. Sometimes it seems as if it were an essence hovering
over the entire scene or idea. But the minute you try to
think about it, it is gone.
Of course it is a technical question. The struggle to find a
concrete pictorial method that will embody and express
clearly definite feelings that will give rise to ideas or
thoughts of a corresponding nature in the minds of others.
It should be like a song. If it was intended to convey the
feeling of happiness you should be filled with that feeling
merely by looking. The same with any of the other emotions.
Form, color, drawing, are but raw materials that must be
mastered and forgot. Some are mastered by drawing, by
technique. Their work may knock you over at first glance,
but gradually it fades as you analyze their thoughts or think
as they would have, to make such a picture.
I have seen pictures that annoyed me that caused drops of
perspiration to stand out on the forehead as I followed the
artist through successive steps that should be joyful, and
finally left with a feeling that I would have for a seven day
bicycle racer.
Grinding work is all right if the finished product is as
fresh as the dewdrop. We are thrilled by the thought of it,
the wonder of it.
I have a lot of experimenting to do and it will take time. I
hope everyone is well. Tell Hugh Lynn I had some clippings I
am going to send him sometime.
With every good wish I am,
Sincerely,
[
345]
10/27/29 "I do not fit well here [The Pennsylvania Academy of
the Fine Arts, Broad & Cherry Sts., Philadelphia, Pa.] as
everything is based on well made drawings and scholarships.
This gives a fine polish but often wastes years of life. It
is good for those who have leisure and can afford it.
Realizing my opportunity here depends on myself. I have
decided to work in a manner that will give me the most of the
fundamentals in as short time as possible, which includes
mainly anatomy and color. I attend the day classes and the
night also. I fix my own meals and iron my own clothes; in
fact I do everything that there is to be done, or leave it
undone which is often the case. I feel in the best of
spirits as a rule, for I am doing what I needed much to do.
I have neglected everything in the letter line. I intended
to write some letters but just don't have time. I hope
everyone is in the best of health and that the work of the
hospital will continue its record of service."
1/28/30 "Business is very bad here and has been the past few
months, and as yet I haven't found steady work. It is quite
a problem to support one's self and go to school but many do.
I have been promoted twice before the end of the year and am
in the painters class. It is very well but I don't feel like
I am doing my best yet. I don't seem to be able to get
started. There are many problems which one has to face and
decide. It comes sooner or later to all who would assume the
name of artist. The past months seem as four years. I would
never care to live them again, or any part of my past, as for
that matter.
"Today I made a technical discovery that almost elated me.
It is very simple but it put me in accord with myself again.
Even now it lingers like a balm and I am anxious to go forth
and try again. It was just a simple method of approach to a
painting. My whole problems may be technical in a sense...
I have hopes of getting a reading sometime next month."
[GD's note: We didn't hear from him again until
5/24/33.]
6/03/33 See
345-4 answering questions as to his life and work.



Edgar Cayce Readings © 1971, 1993, 1994, 1995 by the Edgar Cayce Foundation