Space is not static. It is dynamic, potential and kinetic. It is a process, a becoming. Its duration as a process is never ending. Its extensity is limited and finite. The so-called infinity of space is one of the capital illusions of the intellect which can only be removed by an expansion of the consciousness, by a mergence of the individual consciousness with the space-consciousness. In the ever-widening circle of the individual consciousness lesser realities give way to greater as the darkness recedes from the light--the lesser appearing in comparison with the greater, as the consciousness broadens, as matter to spirit, as night to day or as limitation to non-limitation. Thus the most solid facts and conditions of our limited life are but the shadows of the deeper realities which shall be revealed to the Thinker in the days of his larger and more glorious life of freedom from limitations. And now it will appear that the whole fabric of our knowledge shall have to be reduced to the bare warp and woof; for nothing is real but these. It is as if the Thinker, using the tuitional mind, had been in all times past studying the design woven in the surface of a very thick plush carpet. There are the warp and woof, the long vertical threads which make the plush and the intricate design appearing on the surface. Our knowledge may be likened to the design. It represents the contents of our knowledge. We have not even so much as begun the study of the nature of the vertical threads as they appear beneath the surface to say nothing of beginning the study of the warp and woof. The warp and the woof are the realism of the kosmos; the vertical threads are the roots and stem of the phenomenal world; the design is our sensible world as it appears to the intellect. The life of the intellect has been spent in contemplating this design; while of the hands which wove the carpet, of the mind which directed the hands and of the spirit which vitalized all, it knows nothing nor indeed can it know anything. Where shall we say are those hands, that mind and that spirit which made the carpet possible and an actuality? In vain do we search among the remains, among the soft, glistening threads of the carpet or among the intricacies of the design. For they are not there. They have passed on. The intellect looks at the design or at the vertical threads and because it is unable to follow them to their source, it decides that they are infinite, inscrutable and unknowable. But not so. All that is required are eyes to see and a mind (or shall we say a mind vitalized by the intuition) trained to discern the threads as they point upward with their termini firmly rooted in the warp and woof of the fabric. But we must first master the design, and then turning to the threads, master them. Then shall the doors of kosmic reality swing wide and the Thinker shall be ushered into the eternal palace of kosmic realism wherein he shall find the great secret, the heart, the purpose, the