The best that mystery in St. —— had yet to give me was the hours with Pistorius at the organ or by the chimney fire.
We read a Greek text about Abraxas together. He read to me portions of a translation of the Veda and taught me to say the sacred "Om."
However, it was not this learned instruction which was of service to my inner self, but rather the contrary.
What did me good was the self-progression I made, the increasing confidence in my own dreams, thoughts and presentiments,
and the consciousness of the power that I carried in me.
I had an excellent understanding with Pistorius in every way.
I needed only to think intently of him, and I could be sure that he, or a greeting from him, would come to me.
I could ask him, just as I could Demian, something or other, without his being there in person.
I needed only to imagine his presence and to put my questions to him as intensive thoughts.
Then all the soul-force I had put into the question came back to me as answer.
Only it was not the person of Pistorius which I called up in my imagination; nor that of Max Demian,
but it was the picture I had painted and of which I had dreamed.
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