SECTION X.
Chapter 7. Joan London

  There have been numerous testimonials whereby an individual has reported
a mystical connection with the divine. One of the most famous testimonials in
Christendom is St. Augustine's mystical interlude (see Chapter 1) when he
heard a child say, "Take up [a book] and read".  St. Augustine subsequently
picked up the epistle of St. Paul and read the following lines,

   "Not in rioting and drunkenness, not in chambering and impurities, not
   in contention and envy; but put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make not
    provision for the flesh, to fulfill the lusts thereof."

Augustine was convinced that God had meant for his eyes to fall on this
verse. Afterwards he converted to Orthodoxy (Catholicism).

   Interestingly, not all mystical experiences have left the individual more
religious than they were before. Such was the case with Joan London, eldest
daughter of Jack London.   In her autobiographical work, JACK LONDON AND HIS
DAUGHTERS, Joan London described one powerful, mystical experience she had
as a young girl.

  Earlier, the young Joan London had watched chicken eggs hatch for the first
time in her life, and was "overwhelmed by the miracle of birth". Then,
tragically, the first chick that hatched was trampled to death during its first
night of life by its "distracted" mother. Joan was heartbroken. Her mother
told her to bury the baby chick in the garden.

 Next, Joan described her anguish from her first real encounter with death:

 "In my hand, I thought confusedly, is death... no, this is what death
  had done to the baby chicken who was so wonderfully alive only yesterday.
  Death denied life... death was un-life.  It brought stillness where
  there had been quickness, ugliness where there had been grace and beauty.
  Worthless now were the baby chick's tools for living, the eyes to see,
  the beak to peck, the legs to run, all shaped miraculously inside the
  egg, used so briefly and never to be used again.

  "Shaken with sorrow, angered by the senseless injustice, fighting blindly
  against the irrevocableness of the catastrophe that had befallen the little
  black chicken, I rounded the corner of the bungalow and stood, transfixed.
  Through an open window on the top floor of Mrs. Kendall's big house was
  pouring wild, sweet strains of music; the young lady violinist who was
  living there just then was saluting the spring morning.

  "The throbbing notes of the violin, the sunlight, golden and dazzling, the
  fragrance of opening, dew-fresh blossoms came together in a magic interval,
  vibrant with life, and suddenly I KNEW with absolute certainty that this was
  a moment of miracle, that I had only to ask.  Stretching forth the hand
  that held the tiny, crumpled body, I raised my tear-filled eyes to the
  morning sky and asked God to let the baby chick live again.  Confidently
  I waited.  Nothing happened.  The magic moment passed.  In the violet bed
  [of the garden], together with the little black chick, I sadly buried my
  belief in magic, and miracles and the God they talked about in Sunday school
  and church."
  (JACK LONDON AND HIS DAUGHTERS, Joan London, Heydey Books, 1990, p 130.)

  At first, (as with St. Augustine) the young Joan London believed this
mystical interlude to be from God.  However (unlike St. Augustine), Joan London 
looked for a physical sign--the rebirth of her baby chick -- to rationally
prove to her if her feelings were indeed real.  Her disappointment led her to 
"sadly" bury her "belief in magic, and miracles and the God they talked about 
in Sunday school and church."