{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_22108/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_22108","id":"gutenberg_22108","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/22108","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Health & Medicine","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Category: Psychiatry/Psychology","Mental health","Psychology"],"text":"Produced by Peter Vachuska, Dave Morgan, Laura Wisewell\nand the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at\nhttp://www.pgdp.net\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE\n\nUNTROUBLED MIND\n\n\nBY\n\nHERBERT J. HALL, M.D.\n\n\n\nBOSTON AND NEW YORK\n\nHOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY\n\nThe Riverside Press Cambridge\n\n\n\nCOPYRIGHT, 1915, BY HERBERT J. HALL\n\nALL RIGHTS RESERVED\n\n_Published May 1915_\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE\n\n\nA very wise physician has said that \"every illness has two parts--what\nit is, and what the patient thinks about it.\" What the patient thinks\nabout it is often more important and more troublesome than the real\ndisease. What the patient thinks of life, what life means to him is also\nof great importance and may be the bar that shuts out all real health\nand happiness. The following pages are devoted to certain ideals of life\nwhich I would like to give to my patients, the long-time patients who\nhave especially fallen to my lot.\n\nThey are not all here, the steps to health and happiness. The reader may\neven be annoyed and baffled by my indirectness and unwillingness to be\nspecific. That I cannot help--it is a personal peculiarity; I cannot ask\nany one to live by rule, because I do not believe that rules are\nbinding and final. There must be character behind the rule and then the\nrule is unnecessary.\n\nAll that I have written has doubtless been presented before, in better\nways, by wiser men, but I believe that each writer may expect to find\nhis small public, his own particular public who can understand and\nprofit by his teachings, having partly or wholly failed with the others.\nFor that reason I am encouraged to write upon a subject usually shunned\nby medical men, being assured of at least a small company of friendly\nreaders.\n\nI am grateful to a number of friends and patients who have read the\nmanuscript of the following chapters. These reviewers have been frank\nand kind and very helpful. I am particularly indebted to Dr. Richard C.\nCabot, who has given me much valuable assistance.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n     I. THE UNTROUBLED MIND              1\n\n    II. RELIGIO MEDICI                  10\n\n   III. THOUGHT AND WORK                20\n\n    IV. IDLENESS                        30\n\n     V. RULES OF THE GAME               38\n\n    VI. THE NERVOUS TEMPERAMENT         50\n\n   VII. SELF-CONTROL                    59\n\n  VIII. THE LIGHTER TOUCH               65\n\n    IX. REGRETS AND FOREBODINGS         73\n\n     X. THE VIRTUES                     81\n\n    XI. THE CURE BY FAITH               88\n\n\n\n\nI\n\nTHE UNTROUBLED MIND\n\n\n    Canst thou not minister to a mind diseas'd,\n    Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow,\n    Raze out the written troubles of the brain,\n    And with some sweet oblivious antidote\n    Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff\n    Which weighs upon the heart?\n                MACBETH.\n\nWhen a man tells me he never worries, I am inclined to think that he is\neither deceiving himself or trying to deceive me. The great roots of\nworry are conscience, fear, and regret. Undoubtedly we ought to be\nconscientious and we ought to fear and regret evil. But if it is to be\nbetter than an impediment and a harm, our worry must be largely\nunconscious, and intuitive. The moment we become conscious of worry we\nare undone. Fortunately, or unfortunately, we cannot leave conscience to\nits own devices unless our lives are big enough and fine enough to\nwarrant such a course. The remedy for the mental unrest, which is in\nitself an illness, lies not in an enlightened knowledge of the\nharmfulness and ineffectiveness of worry, not even in the acquirement of\nan unconscious conscience, but in the living of a life so full and good\nthat worry cannot find place in it. That idea of worry and conscience,\nthat definition of serenity, simplifies life immensely. To overcome\nworry by substituting development and growth need never be dull work. To\nknow life in its farther reaches, life in its better applications, is\nthe final remedy--the great undertaking--_it is life_. We must warn\nourselves, not infrequently, that the larger life is to be pursued for\nits own glorious self and not for the sake of peace. Peace may come, a\npeace so sure that death itself cannot shake it, but we must not expect\nall our affairs to run smoothly. As a matter of fact they may run badly\nenough; we shall have our ups and downs, we shall sin and repent, and\nsin again, but if in the end we live according to our best intuitions,\nwe shall be justified, and we need not worry about the outcome. To put\nit another way, if we would have the untroubled mind, we must transfer\nour conscientious efforts from the small details of life--from the worry\nand fret of common things--into another and a higher atmosphere. We must\ntransfigure common life, dignify it and ennoble it; then, although the\nold causes of worry may continue, we shall have gained a stature that\nwill make us unconscious masters of the little troubles and in a great\ndegree equal to the larger requirements. Life will be easier, not\nbecause we make less effort, but because we are working from another and\na better level.\n\nIf such a change, and it would be a change for most of us, could come\nabout instantly, in a flash of revelation, that would be ideal, but it\nwould not be life. We must return again and again to the old uninspired\nstate wherein we struggle conscientiously with perverse details. I would\nnot minimize the importance and value of this struggle; only the sooner\nit changes its level the better for every one concerned. Large serenity\nmust, finally, be earned through the toughening of moral fibre that\ncomes in dealing squarely with perplexing details. Some of this struggle\nmust always be going on, but serener life will come when we begin to\nconcern ourselves with larger factors.\n\nHow are we to live the larger life? Partly through uninspired struggle\nand through the brave meeting of adversity, but partly, also, in a way\nthat may be described as \"out of hand,\" by intuition, by exercise of the\nquality of mind that sees visions and grasps truths beyond the realms of\ncommon thought.\n\nI am more and more impressed with the necessity of inspiration in life\nif we are to be strong and serene, and so finally escape the pitfalls\nof worry and conscience. By inspirations I do not mean belief in any\nsystem or creed. It is not a stated belief that we need to begin with;\nthat may come in time. We need first to find in life, or at least in\nnature, an essential beauty that makes its own true, inevitable response\nwithin us. We must learn to love life so deeply that we feel its\ntremendous significance, until we find in the sea and the sky the\nevidence of an overbrooding spirit too great to be understood, but not\ntoo great to satisfy the soul. This is a sort of mother religion--the\nmatrix from which all sects and creeds are born. Its existence in us\ndignifies us and makes simple, purposeful, and receptive living almost\ninevitable. We may not know why we are living according to the dictates\nof our inspiration, but we shall live so and that is the important\nconsideration.\n\nIf I urge the acquirement of a religious conception that we may cure\nthe intolerable distress of worry, I do what I have already warned\nagainst. It is so easy to make this mistake that I have virtually made\nit on the same page with my warning. We have no right to seek so great a\nthing as religious experience that we may be relieved of suffering.\nBetter go on with pain and distress than cheapen religion by making it a\nremedy. We must seek it for its own sake, or rather, we must not seek it\nat all, lest, like a dream, it elude us, or change into something else,\nless holy. Nevertheless, it is true that if we will but look with open,\nunprejudiced eyes, again and again, upon the sunrise or the stars above\nus, we shall become conscious of a presence greater and more beautiful\nthan our minds can think. In the experience of that vision strength and\npeace will come to us unbidden. We shall find our lives raised, as by an\nunseen force, above the warfare of conscience and worry. We shall begin\nto know the meaning of serenity and of that priceless, if not wholly to\nbe acquired, possession, the untroubled mind.\n\nI am aware that I shall be misunderstood and perhaps ridiculed by my\ncolleagues when I attempt to discuss religion in any way. Theology is a\nfield in which I have had no training, but that is the very reason why I\ndare write of it. I do not even assume that there is a God in the\ntraditional sense. The idea is too great to be made concrete and\nliteral. No single fact of nature can be fully understood by our finite\nminds. But I do feel vaguely that the laws that compass us, and make our\nlives possible, point always on--\"beyond the realms of time and\nspace\"--toward the existence of a mighty overruling spirit. If this is a\ncold and inadequate conception of God, it is at least one that can be\nheld by any man without compromise.\n\nThe modern mind is apt to fail of religious understanding and support,\nbecause of the arbitrary interpretations of religion which are\npresented for our acceptance. It is what men say about religion, rather\nthan religion itself, that repels us. Let us think it out for ourselves.\nIf we are open to a simple, even primitive, conception of God, we may\nstill repudiate the creeds and doctrines, but we are likely to become\nmore tolerant of those who find them true and good. We shall be likely\nin time to find the religion of Christ understandable and\nacceptable--warm and quick with life. The man who ungrudgingly opens his\nheart to the God of nature will be religious in the simplest possible\nsense. He may worry because of the things he cannot altogether\nunderstand, and because he falls so far short of the implied ideal. But\nhe will have enlarged his life so much that the common worries will find\nlittle room--he will be too full of the joy of living to spend much\nconscious thought in worry. Such a man will realize that he cannot\nafford to spend his time and strength in regretting his past mistakes.\nThere is too much in the future. What he does in the future, not what he\nhas failed to do in the past, will determine the quality of his life. He\nknows this, and the knowledge sends him into that future with courage\nand with strength. Finally, in some indefinable way, character will\nbecome more important to him than physical health even. Illness is half\ncompensated when a man realizes that it is not what he accomplishes in\nthe world, but what he _is_ that really counts, which puts him in touch\nwith the creative forces of God and raises him out of the aimless and\nordinary into a life of inspiration and joy.\n\n\n\n\nII\n\nRELIGIO MEDICI\n\n\n    At all events, it is certain that if any medical man had come to\n    Middlemarch with the reputation of having definite religious\n    views, of being given to prayer and of otherwise showing an\n    active piety, there would have been a general presumption\n    against his medical skill.\n                GEORGE ELIOT.\n\nWhen a medically educated man talks and writes of religion and of God,\nhe is rightly enough questioned by his brothers--who are too busy with\nthe hard work of practice to be concerned with anything but material\nproblems. To me the word \"God\" is symbolic of the power which created\nand which maintains the universe. The sunrise and the stars of heaven\ngive me some idea of his majesty, the warmth and tenderness of human\nlove give me some idea of his divine love. That is all I know, but it is\nenough to make life glow; it is enough to inspire the most intense\ndevotion to any good cause; it is enough to make me bear suffering with\nsome degree of patience; and it is enough, finally, to give me some\nconfidence and courage even in the face of the great mystery of death.\nWhy this or another conception of God should produce such a profound\nresult upon any one, I do not know, except that in some obscure way it\nconnects the individual with the divine plan, and does not leave him\noutside in despair and loneliness. However that may be, it will be\nconceded that a religious conception of some kind does much toward\njustifying life, toward making it strong and livable, and so has\ndirectly to do with certain important problems of illness and health.\nThe most practical medical man will admit that any illness is made\nlighter and more likely to recover in the presence of hope and serenity\nin the mind of the patient.\n\nNaturally the great bulk of medical practice calls for no handling other\nthan that of the straight medical sort. A man comes in with a crushed\nfinger, a girl with anaemia--the way is clear. It is only in deeper, more\nintricate departments of medicine that we altogether fail. The\nbacteriologist and the pathologist have no use for mental treatment, in\ntheir departments. But when we come to the case of the nervously\nbroken-down school teacher, or the worn-out telegrapher, that is another\nmatter. Years may elapse before work can be resumed--years of dependence\nand anxiety. Here, a new view of life is often more useful than drugs, a\nview that accepts the situation reasonably after a while, that does not\ngrope blindly and impatiently for a cure, but finds in life an\ninspiration that makes it good in spite of necessary suffering and\nlimitations. Often enough we cannot promise a cure, but we must be\nprepared to give something better.\n\nA great deal of the fatigue and unhappiness of the world is due to the\nfact that we do not go deep enough in our justification for work or\nplay, or for any experience, happy or sad. There is a good deal of a\nvoid after we have said, \"Art for art's sake,\" or \"Play for the joy of\nplaying,\" or even after we have said, \"I am working for the sake of my\nfamily, or for some one who needs my help.\" That is not enough; and\nwhether we realize it or not, the lack of deeper justification is at the\nbottom of a restlessness and uncertainty which we might not be willing\nto acknowledge, but which nevertheless is very real.\n\nI am not satisfied when some moralist says, \"Be good and you will be\nhappy.\" The kind of happiness that comes from a perfunctory goodness is\na thing which I cannot understand, and which I certainly do not want. If\nI work and play and serve and employ, making up the fabric of a busy\nlife, if I attain a very real happiness, I am tormented by the desire to\nknow why I am doing it, and I am not satisfied with the answer I\nusually get. The patient may not be cured when he is relieved of his\nanaemia, or when his emaciation has given place to the plumpness and\nsuppleness and physical strength that we call health. The man whom we\nlook upon as well, and who has never known physical illness, is not well\nin the larger sense until he knows why he is working, why he is living,\nwhy he is filling his life with activity. In spite of the elasticity and\nspring of the world's interests, there must come often, and with a kind\nof fatal insistence, the deep demand for a cause, for a justification.\nIf there is not an adequate significance behind it, life, with all its\ncourage and accomplishment, seems but a sorry thing, so full of pathos,\neven in its brightest moments, so shadowed with a sense of loss and of\nfinality that the bravest heart may well fail and the truest courage\nrelax, supported only by the assurance that this way lies happiness or\nthat right is right.\n\nWhat is this knowledge that the world is seeking, but can never find?\nWhat is this final justification? If we seek it in its completeness, we\nare doomed always to be ill and unsatisfied. If we are willing to look\nonly a little way into the great question, if we are willing to accept a\nlittle for the whole, content because it is manifestly part of the final\nknowledge, and because we know that final knowledge rests with God\nalone, we shall understand enough to save us from much sorrow and\npainful incompleteness.\n\nThere is, in the infinitely varied and beautiful world of nature, and in\nthe hearts of men, so much of beauty and truth that it is a wonder we do\nnot all realize that these things of common life may be in us and for us\nthe daily and hourly expression of the infinite being we call God. We do\nnot see God, but we do feel and know so much that we may fairly believe\nto be of God that we do not need to see Him face to face. It is\nsomething more than imagination to feel that it is the life of God in\nour lives, so often unrecognized or ignored, that prompts us to all the\ngreatness and the inspiration and the accomplishment of the world. If we\ncould know more clearly the joy of such a conception, we should dry up\nat its source much of the unhappiness which is, in a deep and subtle\nway, at the bottom of many a nervous illness and many a wretched\nexistence.\n\nThe happiness which is found in the recognition of kinship with God,\nthrough the common things of life, in the experiences which are so\nsignificant that they could not spring from a lesser source, the\nhappiness which is not sought, but which is the inevitable result of\nsuch recognition--this experience goes a long way toward making life\nworth living.\n\nIf we do have this conception of life, then some of the old, old\nquestions that have vexed so many dwellers upon the earth will no longer\nbe a source of unhappiness or of illness of mind or body. The question\nof immortality, for instance, which has made us afraid to die, will no\nlonger be a question--we shall not need to answer it, in the presence of\nGod, in our lives and in the world about us. We shall be content finally\nto accept whatever is in store for us--so it be the will of God. We may\neven look for something better than mere immortality, something more\ndivine than our gross conception of eternal life.\n\nThis is a religion that I believe medical men may teach without\nhesitation whenever the need shall arise. I know well enough that many a\nblunt if kindly man cannot bring himself to say these words, even if he\nbelieves them, but I do think that in some measure they point the way to\nwhat may wisely be taught.\n\nThere is a practice of medicine--the common practice--that is concerned\nwith the body only, and with its chemical and mechanical reactions. We\ncan have nothing but respect and admiration for the men who go on year\nafter year in the eager pursuit of this calling. We know that such a\nwork is necessary, that it is just as important as the educational\npractice of which I write. We know that without the physical side\nmedicine would fail of its usefulness and that disease and death would\nreap far richer harvests: I only wish the two naturally related aspects\nof our dealing with patients might not be so completely separated that\nthey lose sight of each other. As a matter of fact, both elements are\nnecessary to our human welfare. If medicine devotes itself altogether to\nthe cure and prevention of physical disease, it will miss half of its\npossibilities. It is equally true that if we forget the physical\nnecessities in our zeal for spiritual hygiene, we shall get and deserve\ncomplete and humiliating failure. Many men will say, \"Why mix the two?\nWhy not let the preachers and the philosophers preach and the doctors\nfollow their own ways?\" For the most part this may have to be the\narrangement, but the doctor who can see and treat the spiritual needs of\nhis patient will always be more likely to cure in the best sense than\nthe doctor who sees only half of the picture. On the other hand, the\nphilosopher is likely to be a comparatively poor doctor, because he\nknows nothing of medicine, and so can see only the other half of the\npicture. There is much to be said for the religion of medicine if it can\nbe kept free from cant, if it can be simple and rational enough to be\navailable for the whole world.\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\nTHOUGHT AND WORK\n\n\n    I wish I had a trade!--It would animate my arms and tranquilize\n    my brain.\n                SENANCOUR.\n\n    \"Doe ye nexte thynge.\"--_Old English Proverb_.\n\nSince our minds are so constantly filled with anxiety, there would seem\nto be at least one sure way to be rid of it--to stop thinking.\n\nA great many people believe that the mind will become less effective,\nthat life will become dull and purposeless, unless they are constantly\nthinking and planning and arranging their affairs. I believe that the\nmind may easily and wisely be free from conscious thought a good deal of\nthe time, and that the greatest progress and development in mind often\ncomes when the thinker is virtually at rest, when his mind is to all\nintents and purposes blank. The busy, unconscious mind does its best\nwork in the serenity of an atmosphere which does not interfere and\nconfuse.\n\nIt is true that the greatest conceptions do not come to the untrained\nand undisciplined mind. But do we want great conceptions all the time?\nThere is a technical training for the mind which is, of course,\nnecessary for special accomplishments, but this is quite another matter.\nEven this kind of thought must not obtrude too much, lest we become\nconscious of our mental processes and so end in confusion.\n\nOne of the greatest benefits of work with the hands, or of objective and\nconstructive work with the mind, is that it saves us from unending hours\nof thinking. Work should, of course, find its fullest justification as\nan expression of faith. If we have ever so dim a vision of a greater\nsignificance in life, of its close relationship to infinite things, we\nbecome thereby conscious of the need of service, of the need of work. It\nis the easy, natural expression of our faith, the inevitable result of\na spiritual contact with the great working forces of the world. It is\nwork above all else that saves us from the disasters of conflicting\nthought.\n\nA few years ago a young man came to me, suffering from too much\nthinking. He had just been graduated from college and his head was full\nof confused ideas and emotions. He was also very tired, having\noverworked in his preparation for examinations, and because he had not\ntaken the best care of his body. The symptoms he complained of were\nsleeplessness and worry, together with the inevitable indigestion and\nheadache. Of course, as a physician, I went over the bodily functions\ncarefully, and studied, as far as I might, into the organic conditions.\nI could find no evidence of physical disease. I did not say, \"There is\nnothing the matter with you\"; for the man was sick. I told him that he\nwas tired, that he had thought too much, that he was too much concerned\nabout himself, and that as a result of all this his bodily functions\nwere temporarily upset. He thought he ought to worry about himself,\nbecause otherwise he would not be trying to get well. I explained to him\nthat this mistaken obligation was the common reason for worry, and that\nin this case, at least, it was quite unnecessary and even harmful for\nhim to go on thinking about himself. That helped a little, but not\nnearly enough, because when a man has overworked, when he has begun to\nworry, and when his various bodily functions show results of worry, no\nreasoning, no explanations, can wholly relieve him. I said to this young\nman, \"In spite of your discomforts, in spite of your depression and\nconcern in regard to yourself, you will get well if you will stop\nthinking about the matter altogether. You must be first convinced that\nit is best for you to stop thinking, that no harm or violence can\nresult, and then you must be helped in this direction by going to work\nwith your hands--that will be life and progress, it will lead you to\nhealth.\"\n\nFortunately I had had some experience with nervous illness, and I knew\nthat unless I managed for this man the character and extent of his work,\nhe would not only fail in it, but of its object, and so become more\nconfused and discouraged. I knew the troubled mind, in this instance,\nmight find its solace and its relief in work, but that I must choose the\nwork carefully to suit the individual, and I must see that the nervously\nfatigued body was not pushed too hard.\n\nIn the town where I live is a blacksmith shop, presided over by a genial\nold man who has been a blacksmith since he was a boy, and in whose hands\niron is like clay. I took my patient down to the smithy and said, \"Here\nis a young man whom I want to put to work. He will pay for the chance. I\nwant you first to teach him to make hand-wrought nails.\" This was a\ngood deal of a joke to the smith and to the patient, but they saw that I\nwas in earnest and agreed to go ahead. We got together the proper tools\nand proceeded to make nails, a job which is really not very difficult.\nAfter an hour's work, I called off my patient, much to his disgust, for\nhe was just beginning to be interested. But I knew that if he were to\nkeep on until fatigue should come, the whole matter would end in\ntrouble. So the next day, with some new overalls and a leather apron\nadded to the equipment, we proceeded to another hour's work. We went on\nthis way for three or four days, before the time was increased.\n\nThe interest of the patient was always fresh, he was eager for more, and\nhe did not taste the dregs of fatigue. Yet he did get the wholesome\nexercise, and he did get the strong turning of the mind from its worry\nand concern. Of course, the rest of the day was taken care of in one\nway or another, but the work was the central feature. In a week, we were\nat it two hours a day, in three weeks, four hours, and in a month, five\nhours. He had made a handsome display of hand-wrought nails, a superior\nline of pokers and shovels for fireplaces, together with a number of\nvery respectable andirons. On each of these larger pieces of handiwork\nmy patient had stamped his initials with a little steel die that was\nmade for him. Each piece was his own, each piece was the product of his\nown versatility and his own strength. His pride and pleasure in this\nwork were very great, and well they might be, for it is a fine thing to\nhave learned to handle so intractable a material as iron. But in\nhandling the iron patiently and consistently until he could do it\nwithout too much conscious thinking, and so without effort, he had also\nlearned to handle himself naturally, more simply and easily.\n\nAs a matter of fact, the illness which had brought this boy to me was\npretty nearly cured by his blacksmithing, because it was an illness of\nthe mind and of the nerves, and not of the body, although the body had\nsuffered in its turn. That young man, instead of becoming a nervous\ninvalid as he might have done, is now working steadily in partnership\nwith his father, in business in the city. I had found him a very\ninteresting patient, full of originality and not at all the tedious and\nboresome person he might have been had I listened day after day, week\nafter week to the recital of his ills. I was willing to listen,--I did\nlisten,--but I also gave him a new trend of life, which pretty soon made\nhis complaints sound hollow and then disappear.\n\nOf course, the problem is not always so simple as this, and we must\noften deal with complexities of body and mind requiring prolonged\ninvestigation and treatment. I cite this case because it shows clearly\nthat relief from some forms of nervous illness can come when we stop\nthinking, when we stop analyzing, and then back up our position with\nprescribed work.\n\nThere may be some nervous invalids who read these lines who will say,\n\"But I have tried so many times to work and have failed.\" Unfortunately,\nsuch failure must often occur unless we can proceed with care and with\nunderstanding. But the principle remains true, although it must be\nmodified in an infinite variety to meet the changing conditions of\nindividuals.\n\nI see a great many people who are conscientiously trying to get well\nfrom nervous exhaustion. They almost inevitably try too hard. They think\nand worry too much about it, and so exhaust themselves the more. This is\nthe greater pity because it is the honest and the conscientious people\nwho make the greatest effort. It is very hard for them to realize that\nthey must stop thinking, stop trying, and if possible get to work\nbefore they can accomplish their end. We shall have to repeat to them\nover and over again that they must stop thinking the matter out, because\nthe thing they are attempting to overcome is too subtle to be met in\nthat way. So, if they are fortunate, they may rid themselves of the\nvagueness and uncertainty of life, until all the multitude of details\nwhich go to make up life lose their desultoriness and their lack of\nmeaning, and they may find themselves no longer the subjects of physical\nor nervous exhaustion.\n\n\n\n\nIV\n\nIDLENESS\n\n\n    O ye! who have your eyeballs vex'd and tir'd,\n      Feast them upon the wideness of the sea.\n                KEATS.\n\n    Extreme busyness, whether at school or college, kirk or market,\n    is a symptom of deficient vitality; and a faculty for idleness\n    implies a catholic appetite and a strong sense of personal\n    identity.\n                STEVENSON.\n\nIt is an unfortunate fact that very few people are able to be idle\nsuccessfully. I think it is not so much because we misuse idleness as\nbecause we misinterpret it that the long days become increasingly\ndemoralizing. I would ask no one to accept a forced idleness without\nobjection or regret. Such an acceptance would imply a lack of spirit, to\nsay the least. But idleness and rest are not incompatible; neither are\nidleness and service, nor idleness and contentment. If we can look upon\nrest as a preparation for service, if we can make it serve us in the\nopportunity it gives for quiet growth and legitimate enjoyment, then it\nis fully justified and it may offer advantages and opportunity of the\nbest.\n\nThe chief trouble with idleness is that it so often means introspection,\nworry, and impatience, especially to those conscientious souls who would\nfain be about their business.\n\nI have for a long time been accustomed to combat the worry and fret of\nnecessary idleness--not by forbidding it, not by advising struggle and\nfight against it, but by insisting that the best way to get rid of it is\nto leave it alone, to accept it. When we do this there may come a kind\nof fallow time in which the mind enriches and refreshes itself beyond\nour conception.\n\nI would rather my patient who must rest for a long time would give up\nall thought of method, would give up all idea of making his mind follow\nany particular line of thought or absence of thought. I know that the\nmind which has been under conscious control a good deal of the time is\napt to rebel at this freedom and to indulge in all kinds of alarming\nextravagances. I am sure, however, that the best way to meet these\ndemands for conscious control is to be careless of them, to be willing\nto experience these extravagances and inconsistencies without fear, in\nthe belief that finally will come a quiet and peace which will be all\nthat we can ask. The peace of mind that is unguided, in the conscious\nand literal sense, is a thing which too few of us know.\n\nMr. Arnold Bennett, in his little book, \"How to Live on Twenty-four\nHours a Day,\" teaches that we should leave no time unused in our lives;\nthat we should accomplish a great deal more and be infinitely more\neffective and progressive if we devoted our minds to the definite\nworking-out of necessary problems whenever those times occur in which we\nare apt to be desultory. I wish here to make a plea for desultoriness\nand for an idleness which goes even beyond the idleness of the man who\nreads the newspaper and forgets what he has read. It seems to me better,\nwhether we are sick or well, to allow long periods in our lives when we\nthink only casually. To the good old adage, \"Work while you work and\nplay while you play,\" we might well add, \"Rest while you rest,\" lest in\nthe end you should be unable successfully either to work or play.\n\nA man is not necessarily condemned to tortures of mind because he must\nrest for a week or a month or a year. I know that there must be anxious\ntimes, especially when idleness means dependence, and when it brings\nhardship to those who need our help. But the invalid must not try\nconstantly to puzzle the matter out. If we do not make ourselves sick\nwith worry, we shall be able sometime to approach active life with\nsufficient frankness and force. It is the constant effort of the poor,\ntired mind to solve its problems that not only fails of its object, but\nplunges the invalid deeper into discouragement and misunderstanding. How\ncruel this is, and how unfortunate that it should come more commonly to\nthose who try the hardest to overcome their handicaps, to throw off the\nyoke of idleness and to be well.\n\nWhen you have tried your best to get back to your work and have failed,\nwhen you have done this not once but many times, it is inevitable that\nmisunderstanding should creep in, inevitable that you should question\nvery deeply and doubt not infrequently. Yet the chances are that one of\nthe reasons for your failure is that you have tried too hard, that you\nhave not known how to rest. When you have learned how to rest, when you\nhave learned to put off thinking and planning until the mind becomes\nfresh and clear, when you are in a fair way to know the joy of idleness\nand the peace of rest, you are a great deal more likely to get back to\nefficiency and to find your way along the great paths of activity into\nthe world of life.\n\nIt is not so much the idleness, then, as the attempt to overcome its\nirksomeness, that makes this condition painful. The invalid in bed is in\na trap, to be tormented by his thoughts unless he knows the meaning of\nsuccessful idleness. This knowledge may come to him by such strategy as\nI have suggested--by giving up the struggle against worry and fret; but\npeace will come surely, steadily, \"with healing in its wings,\" when the\nmind is changed altogether, when life becomes free because of a growth\nand development that finds significance even in idleness, that sees the\nworld with wise and patient eyes.\n\nIn a way it does not matter, your physical condition or mine, if our\n\"eyes have seen the glory\" that deifies life and makes even its waste\nplaces beautiful. What is that view from your window as you lie in your\nbed? A bit of the sea, if you are fortunate, a corner of garden, surely,\nthe top of an elm tree against the blue. What is it but the revelations\nof a God in the world? There is enough that is sad and unhappy, but over\nall are these simple, ineffable things. If the garden is an expression\nof God in the world, then the world and life are no longer meaningless.\nEven idleness becomes in some degree bearable because it is a part of a\nsignificant world.\n\nUnfortunately, the idleness of disability often means pain, the wear and\ntear of physical or nervous suffering. That is another matter. We cannot\nmeet it fully with any philosophy. My patients very often beg to know\nthe best way to bear pain, how they may overcome the attacks of \"nerves\"\nthat are harder to bear than pain. To such a question I can only say\nthat the time to bear pain is before and after. Live in such a way in\nthe times of comparative comfort that the attacks are less likely to\nappear and easier to bear when they do come. After the pain or the\n\"nervous\" attack is over, that is the time to prevent the worst features\nof another. Forget the distress; live simply and happily in spite of the\nmemory, and you will have done all that the patient himself can do to\nward off or to make tolerable the next occasion of suffering. Pain\nitself--pure physical pain--is a matter for the physician's judgment. It\nis his business to seek out the causes and apply the remedy.\n\n\n\n\nV\n\nRULES OF THE GAME\n\n\n    It is not growing like a tree\n    In bulk, doth make man better be.\n                BEN JONSON.\n\n    It is a good thing to have a sound body, better to have a sane\n    mind, but neither is to be compared to that aggregate of virile\n    and decent qualities which we call character.\n                THEODORE ROOSEVELT.\n\n    The only effective remedy against inexorable necessity is to\n    yield to it.\n                PETRARCH.\n\nWhen I go about among my patients, most of them, as it happens,\n\"nervously\" sick, I sometimes stop to consider why it is they are ill. I\nknow that some are so because of physical weakness over which they have\nno control, that some are suffering from the effects of carelessness,\nsome from wilfulness, and more from simple ignorance of the rules of the\ngame. There are so many rules that no one will ever know them all, but\nit seems that we live in a world of laws, and that if we transgress\nthose laws by ever so little, we must suffer equally, whether our\ntransgression is a mistake or not, and whether we happen to be saints or\nsinners. There are laws also which have to do with the recovery of poise\nand balance when these have been lost. These laws are less well observed\nand understood than those which determine our downfall.\n\nThe more gross illnesses, from accident, contagion, and malignancy, we\nneed not consider here, but only those intangible injuries that disable\npeople who are relatively sound in the physical sense. It is true that\nnervous troubles may cause physical complications and that physical\ndisease very often coexists with nervous illness, but it is better for\nus now to make an artificial separation. Just what happens in the human\neconomy when a \"nervous breakdown\" comes, nobody seems to know, but mind\nand body cooeperate to make the patient miserable and helpless. It may\nbe nature's way of holding us up and preventing further injury. The\nhold-up is severe, usually, and becomes in itself a thing to be managed.\n\nThe rules we have wittingly or unwittingly broken are often unknown to\nus, but they exist in the All-Wise Providence, and we may guess by our\nown suffering how far we have overstepped them. If a man runs into a\ndoor in the dark, we know all about that,--the case is simple,--but if\nhe runs overtime at his office and hastens to be rich with the result of\na nervous dyspepsia--that is a mystery. Here is a girl who \"came out\"\nlast year. She was apparently strong and her mother was ambitious for\nher social progress. That meant four nights a week for several months at\ndances and dinners, getting home at 3 A.M. or later. It was gay and\ndelightful while it lasted, but it could not last, and the girl went to\npieces suddenly; her back gave out because it was not strong enough to\nstand the dancing and the long-continued physical strain. The nerves\ngave out because she did not give her faculties time to rest, and\nperhaps because of a love affair that supervened. The result was a year\nof invalidism, and then, because the rules of recovery were not\nunderstood, several years more of convalescence. Such common rules\nshould be well enough understood, but they are broken everywhere by the\nwisest people.\n\nThe common case of the broken-down school teacher is more unfortunate.\nThis tragedy and others like it are more often, I believe, due to unwise\nchoice of profession in the first place. The women's colleges are\nturning out hundreds of young women every year who naturally consider\nteaching as the field most appropriate and available. Probably only a\nvery small proportion of these girls are strong enough physically or\nnervously to meet the growing demands of the schools. They may do well\nfor a time, some of them unusually well, for it is the sensitive,\nhigh-strung organism that is appreciative and effective. After a while\nthe worry and fret of the requirements and the constant nag of the\nschoolroom have their effect upon those who are foredoomed to failure in\nthat particular field. The plight of such young women is particularly\nhard, for they are usually dependent upon their work.\n\nIt is, after all, not so much the things we do as the way we do them,\nand what we think about them, that accomplishes nervous harm. Strangely\nenough, the sense of effort and the feeling of our own inadequacy damage\nthe nervous system quite as much as the actual physical effort. The\nattempt to catch up with life and with affairs that go on too fast for\nus is a frequent and harmful deflection from the rules of the game. Few\nof us avoid it. Life comes at us and goes by very fast. Tasks multiply\nand we are inadequate, responsibilities increase before we are ready.\nThey bring fatigue and confusion. We cannot shirk and be true. Having\ndone all you reasonably can, stop, whatever may be the consequences.\nThat is a rule I would enforce if I could. To do more is to drag and\nfail, so defeating the end of your efforts. If it turns out that you are\nnot fit for the job you have undertaken, give it up and find another, or\nmodify that one until it comes within your capacity. It takes courage to\ndo this--more courage sometimes than is needed to make us stick to the\nthing we are doing. Rarely, however, will it be necessary for us to give\nup if we will undertake and consider for the day only such part of our\ntask as we are able to perform. The trouble is that we look at our work\nor our responsibility all in one piece, and it crushes us. If we cannot\narrange our lives so that we may meet their obligations a little at a\ntime, then we must admit failure and try again, on what may seem a\nlower plane. That is what I consider the brave thing to do. I would\nhonor the factory superintendent, who, finding himself unequal to his\nposition, should choose to work at the bench where he could succeed\nperfectly.\n\nThe habit of uncertainty in thought and action, bred, as it sometimes\nis, from a lack of faith in man and in God, is, nevertheless, a thing to\nbe dealt with sometimes by itself. Not infrequently it is a petty habit\nthat can be corrected by the exercise of a little will power. I believe\nit is better to decide wrong a great many times--doing it quickly--than\nto come to a right decision after weakly vacillating. As a matter of\nfact, we may trust our decisions to be fair and true if our life's\nideals are beautiful and true.\n\nWe may improve our indecisions a great deal by mastering their unhappy\ndetails, but we shall not finally overcome them until life rings true\nand until all our acts and thoughts become the solid and inevitable\nexpression of a healthy growing regard for the best in life, a call to\nright living that is no mean dictum of policy, but which is renewed\nevery morning as the sun comes out of the sea. However inconsequential\nthe habit of indecision may seem, it is really one of the most disabling\nof bad habits. Its continuance contributes largely to the sum of nervous\nexhaustion. Whatever its origin, whether it stands in the relation of\ncause or effect, it is an indulgence that insidiously takes the snap and\nsparkle out of life and leaves us for the time being colorless and weak.\n\nNext to uncertainty, an uninspired certainty is wrecking to the best of\nhuman prospects. The man whose one idea is of making himself and his\nfamily materially comfortable, or even rich, may not be coming to\nnervous prostration, but he is courting a moral prostration that will\ndeny him all the real riches of life and that will in the end reward\nhim with a troubled mind, a great, unsatisfied longing, unless, to be\nsure, he is too smug and satisfied to long for anything.\n\nThe larger life leads us inevitably away from ourselves, away from the\nsuper-requirements of our families. It demands of them and of ourselves\nan unselfishness that is born of a love that finds its expression in the\nservice of God. And what is the service of God if it is not such an\nentering into the divine purposes and spirit that we become with God\nre-creators in the world--working factors in the higher evolution of\nhumanity? While we live we shall get and save, we shall use and spend,\nwe shall serve the needs of those dependent upon us, but we shall not\nline the family nest so softly that our children become powerless. We\nshall not confine our charities to the specified channels, where our\nnames will be praised and our credit increased. We shall give and serve\nin secret places with our hearts in our deeds. Then we may possess the\nuntroubled mind, a treasure too rich to be computed. We shall not have\nit for the seeking; it may exist in the midst of what men may call\nprivations and sorrows; but it will exist in a very large sense and it\nwill be ours. The so-called hard-headed business man who never allows\nhimself to be taken advantage of, whose dealings are always strict and\nuncompromising, is very apt to be a particularly miserable invalid when\nhe is ill. I cannot argue in favor of business laxity,--I know the\nimperative need of exactness and finality,--but I do believe that if we\nare to possess the untroubled mind we must make our lives larger than\nthe field of dollars and cents. The charity that develops in us will\nmake us truly generous and free from the reaction of hardness.\n\nIt is a great temptation to go on multiplying the rules of the game.\nThere are so many sensible and necessary pieces of advice which we all\nneed to have emphasized. That is the course we must try to avoid. The\nchild needs to be told, arbitrarily for a while, what is right, and what\nis wrong, that he must do this, and he must not do that. The time comes,\nhowever, when the growing instinct toward right living is the thing to\nfoster--not the details of life which will inevitably take care of\nthemselves if the underlying principle is made right. It must be the\nideal of moral teaching to make clear and pure the source of action.\nThen the stream will be clear and pure. Such a stream will purify itself\nand neutralize the dangerous inflow along its banks. It is true that\ngreat harm may come from the polluted inflows, but they will be less and\nless harmful as the increasing current from the good source flows down.\n\nWe shall have to look well to our habits lest serious ills befall, but\nthat must never be the main concern or we shall find ourselves living\nvery narrow and labored lives; we shall find that we are failing to\nobserve one of the most important rules of the game.\n\n\n\n\nVI\n\nTHE NERVOUS TEMPERAMENT\n\n\n    Beyond the ugly actual, lo, on every side,\n    Imagination's limitless domain.\n                BROWNING.\n\n    He that too much refines his delicacy will always endanger his\n    quiet.\n                SAMUEL JOHNSON.\n\n    The great refinement of many poetical gentlemen has rendered\n    them practically unfit for the jostling and ugliness of life.\n                STEVENSON.\n\nIt has been my fortune as a physician to deal much with the so-called\nnervous temperament. I have come both to fear and to love it. It is the\nessence of all that is bright, imaginative, and fine, but it is as\nunstable as water. Those who possess it must suffer--it is their lot to\nfeel deeply, and very often to be misunderstood by their more practical\nfriends. All their lives these people will shed tears of joy, and more\ntears of sorrow. I would like to write of their joy, of the perfect\nsatisfaction, the true happiness that comes in creating new and\nbeautiful things, of the deep pleasure they have in the appreciation of\ngood work in others. But with the instinct of a dog trained for a\ncertain kind of hunting I find myself turning to the misfortunes and the\nills.\n\nThe very keenness of perception makes painful anything short of\nperfection. What will such people do in our clanging streets? What of\nthose fine ears tuned to the most exquisite appreciation of sweet sound?\nWhat of that refinement of hearing that detects the least departure from\nthe rhythm and pitch in complex orchestral music? And must they bear the\ncrash of steel on stone, the infernal clatter of traffic? Well, yes,--as\na matter of fact--they must, at least for a good many years to come,\nuntil advancing civilization eliminates the city noise. But it is not\nalways great noises that disturb and distract. There is a story told of\na woman who became so sensitive to noise that she had her house made\nsound-proof: there were thick carpets and softly closing doors;\neverything was padded. The house was set back from a quiet street, but\nthat street was strewn with tanbark to check the sound of carriages.\nSurely here was bliss for the sensitive soul. I need not tell the rest\nof the story, how absolutely necessary noises became intolerable, and\nthe poor woman ended by keeping a man on the place to catch and silence\nthe tree toads and crickets.\n\nThere is nothing to excuse the careless and unnecessary noises of the\nworld--we shall dispose of them finally as we are disposing of\nflamboyant signboards and typhoid flies. But meanwhile, and always, for\nthat matter, the sensitive soul must learn to adjust itself to\ncircumstances and conditions. This adjustment may in itself become a\nfine art. It is really the art by which the painter excludes the\ncommonplace and irrelevant from his landscape. Sometimes we have to do\nthis consciously; for the most part, it should be a natural, unconscious\nselection.\n\nI am sure it is unwise to attempt at any time the dulling of the\nappreciative sense for the sake of peace and comfort. Love and\nunderstanding of the beautiful and true is too rare and fine a thing to\nbe lost or diminished under any circumstances. The cure, as I see it, is\nto be found in the cultivation of the faculty that finds some good in\neverything and everybody. This is the saving grace--it takes great bulks\nof the commonplace and distils from the mass a few drops of precious\nessence; it finds in the unscholarly and the imperfect, rare traces of\ngood; it sees in man, any man, the image of God, to be justified and\nmade evident only in the sublimity of death, perhaps, but usually to be\ndeveloped in life.\n\nThe nervous person is often morose and unsocial--perhaps because he is\nnot understood, perhaps because he falls so short of his own ideals.\nOften he does not find kindred spirits anywhere. I do not think we\nshould drive such a man into conditions that hurt, but I do believe that\nif he is truly artistic, and not a snob, he may lead himself into a\nlarger social life without too much sacrifice.\n\nThe sensitive, high-strung spirit that does not give of its own best\nqualities to the world of its acquaintance, that does not express itself\nin some concrete way, is always in danger of harm. Such a spirit turned\nin upon itself is a consuming fire. The spirit will burn a long time and\nsuffer much if it does not use its heat to warm and comfort the world of\nneed.\n\nReal illness makes the nervous temperament a much more formidable\ndifficulty--all the sensitive faculties are more sensitive--irritability\nbecomes an obsession and idleness a terror.\n\nThe nervous temperament under irritation is very prone to become\nselfish--and very likely to hide behind this selfishness, calling it\ntemperament. The man who flies into a passion when he is disturbed, or\nwho spends his days in torment from the noises of the street; the woman\nof high attainment who has retired into herself, who is moody and\nunresponsive,--these unfortunates have virtually built a wall about\ntheir lives, a wall which shuts out the world of life and happiness.\nFrom the walls of this prison the sounds of discord and annoyance are\nthrown back upon the prisoner intensified and multiplied. The wall is\nreal enough in its effect, but will cease to exist when the prisoner\nbegins to go outside, when he begins to realize his selfishness and his\nmistake. Then the noises and the irritations will be lost in the wider\nworld that is open to him. After all, it is only through unselfish\nservice in the world of men that this broadening can come.\n\nThere is no lack of opportunity for service. Perhaps the simplest and\nmost available form of service is charity,--the big, professional kind,\nof course,--and beyond that the greater field of intimate and personal\ncharity. I know a girl of talent and ability--herself a nervous\ninvalid--sick and helpless for the lack of a little money which would\ngive her a chance to get well. I do not mean money for luxuries, for\nfoolish indulgences, but money to buy opportunity--money that would lift\nher out of the heavy morass of poverty and give her a chance. She falls\noutside the beaten path of charity. She is not reached by the usual\nphilanthropies. I also know plenty of people who could help that girl\nwithout great sacrifice. They will not do it because they give money to\nthe regular charities--they will not do it because sometimes generosity\nhas been abused. So they miss the chance of broadening and developing\ntheir own lives.\n\nI know well enough that objective interest can rarely be forced--it\nmust usually come the other way about--through the broadening of life\nwhich makes it inevitable. Sometimes I wish I could force that kind of\ndevelopment, that kind of charity. Sometimes I long to take the rich\nneurasthenic and make him help his brother, make him develop a new art\nthat shall save people from sorrow and loss. We are all together in this\nworld, and all kin; to recognize it and to serve the needs of the\nunfortunate as we would serve our own children is the remedy for many\nills. It is the new art, the final and greatest of all artistic\nachievements; it warms our hearts and opens our lives to all that is\nwholesome and good. This is one of the crises in which my theory of\n\"inspiration first\" may fail. Here the charity may have to come first,\nmay have to be insisted upon before there can be any inspiration or any\nfurther joy in life. It is not always charity in the usual sense that is\nrequired; sometimes the charity that gives something besides money is\nbest. But charity in any good sense means self-forgetfulness, and that\nis a long way on the road to nervous health. Give of yourself, give of\nyour substance, and you will cease to be troubled with the penalties of\nselfishness. Then take the next step--that gives not because life has\ncome back, but because the world has become larger and warmer and\nhappier. When the giver gives of his sympathy and of his means because\nhe wants to,--not because he has to do so,--he will begin to know what I\nmean when I say it is better to have the inspiration first.\n\n\n\n\nVII\n\nSELF-CONTROL\n\n\n    He only earns his freedom and existence\n    Who daily conquers them anew.\n                GOETHE.\n\nA good many writers on self-control and kindred subjects insist that we\nshall conscientiously and consciously govern our mental lives. They say,\n\"You must get up in the morning with determination to be cheerful.\" They\ninsist that in spite of annoyance or trouble you shall keep a smiling\nface, and affirm to yourself over and over again the denial of\nannoyance.\n\nI do not like this kind of self-control. I wish I could admire it and\napprove it, but I find I cannot because it seems to me self-conscious\nand superficial. It is better than nothing and unquestionably adds\ngreatly to the sum of human happiness. But I do not think we ought to be\ncheerful if we are consumed with trouble and sorrow. The fact is we\nought not to be for long beyond a natural cheerfulness that comes from\nthe deepest possible sources. While we are sad, let us be so, simply and\nnaturally; but we must pray that the light may come to us in our sorrow,\nthat we may be able soon and naturally to put aside the signs of\nmourning.\n\nThe person who thinks little of his own attitude of mind is more likely\nto be well controlled and to radiate happiness than one who must\ncontinually prompt himself to worthy thoughts. The man whose heart is\ngreat with understanding of the sorrow and pathos of life is far more\napt to be brave and fine in his own trouble than one who must look to a\nmotto or a formula for consolation and advice. Deep in the lives of\nthose who permanently triumph over sorrow there is an abiding peace and\njoy. Such peace cannot come even from ample experience in the material\nworld. Despair comes from that experience sometimes, unless the heart\nis open to the vital spirit that lies beyond all material things, that\ncreates and renews life and that makes it indescribably beautiful and\nsignificant. Experience of material things is only the beginning. In it\nand through it we may have experience of the wider life that surrounds\nthe material.\n\nOur hearts must be opened to the courage that comes unbidden when we\nfeel ourselves to be working, growing parts of the universe of God. Then\nwe shall have no more sorrow and no more joy in the pitiful sense of the\nearth, but rather an exaltation which shall make us masters of these and\nof ourselves. We shall have a sympathy and charity that shall need no\npromptings, but that flow from us spontaneously into the world of\nsuffering and need.\n\nBeethoven was of a sour temper, according to all accounts, but he wrote\nhis symphonies in the midst of tribulations under which few men would\nhave worked at all. When we have felt something of the spirit that makes\nwork inevitable, it will be as though we had heard the eternal harmonies.\nWe shall write our symphonies, build our bridges, or do our lesser tasks\nwith dauntless purpose, even though the possessions that men count dear\nare taken from us. Suppose we can do very little because of some\ninfirmity: if that little has in it the larger inspiration, it will be\nenough to make life full and fine. The joy of a wider life is not\nobtainable in its completeness; it is only through a lifetime of service\nand experience that we can approach it. That is the proof of its divine\norigin--its unattainableness. \"God keep you from the she wolf and from\nyour heart's deepest desire,\" is an old saying of the Rumanians. If we\nfully obtain our desires, we prove their unworthiness. Does any one\nsuppose that Beethoven attained his whole heart's desire in his music?\nHe might have done so had he been a lesser man. He was not a cheerful\ncompanion. That is unfortunate, and shows that he failed in complete\ninspiration and in the ordinary kind of self-control. He was at least\nsincere, and that helped not a little to make him what he was. I would\nalmost rather a man would be morose and sincere than cheerful from a\nsense of duty.\n\nOur knowledge of the greater things of life must always be substantiated\nand worked out into realities of service, or else we shall be weak and\nineffective. The charity that balks at giving, reacts upon a man and\ndeadens him. I am always insisting that we must not live and serve\nthrough a sense of duty, but that we must find the inspiration first. It\nis better to give ourselves to service not for the sake of finding God,\nbut because we have found Him and because our souls have grown in the\nfinding until we cannot help giving. If we have grown to such a stature\nwe shall be able to meet sorrow and loss bravely and simply. We shall\nfeel for ourselves and for others in their troubles as Forbes Robertson\ndid when he wrote to his friend who had met with a great loss: \"I pray\nthat you may never, never, never get over this sorrow, but through it,\ninto it, into the very heart of God.\" All this is very unworldly, no\ndoubt, and yet I will venture the assertion that such a standard and\nsuch a method will come nearer to the mark of successful and\nwell-controlled living than the most carefully planned campaign of duty.\nIf we plan to make life fine, if we say, in effect, \"I will be good and\ncheerful, no matter what happens,\" we are beginning at the wrong end. We\nmay be able to work back from our mottoes to real living, but the\nchances are we shall stop somewhere by the way, too confused and\nuncertain to go on. Self-control, at its best, is not a conscious thing.\nIt is not well that we should try to be good, but that we should so\ndignify our lives with the spirit of good that evil becomes well-nigh\nimpossible to us.\n\n\n\n\nVIII\n\nTHE LIGHTER TOUCH\n\n\n    Heart not so heavy as mine,\n    Wending late home,\n    As it passed my window\n    Whistled itself a tune.\n                EMILY DICKINSON.\n\nI have never seen good come from frightening worriers. It is no doubt\nwise to speak the truth, but it seems to me a mistake to say in public\nprint or in private advice that worry leads to tragedies of the worst\nsort. No matter how hopeful we may be in our later teaching about the\npossibilities of overcoming worry, the really serious worrier will\npounce upon the original tragic statement and apply it with terrible\ninsistence to his own case.\n\nI would not minimize the seriousness of worry, but I am convinced that\nwe can rarely overcome it by direct voluntary effort. It does not go\nuntil we forget it, and we do not forget it if we are always trying\nconsciously to overcome it. We worriers must go about our\nbusiness--other business than that of worry.\n\nLife is serious--alas, too serious--and full enough of pathos. We cannot\njoke about its troubles; they are real. But, at least, we need not\nmagnify them. Why should we act as though everything depended upon our\nefforts, even the changing seasons and the blowing winds? No doubt we\nare responsible for our own acts and thoughts and for the welfare of\nthose who depend upon us. The trouble is we take unnecessary\nresponsibilities so seriously that we overreach ourselves and defeat our\nown good ends.\n\nI would make my little world more blessedly careless--with an _abandon_\nthat loves life too much to spoil it with worry. I would cherish so\ngreat a desire for my child's good that I could not scold and bear down\nupon him for every little fault, making him a worrier too, but,\ninstead, I would guide him along the right path with pleasant words and\nbrave encouragement. The condemnation of faults is rarely constructive.\n\nWe had better say to the worriers, \"Here is life; no matter what\nunfortunate things you may have said or done, you must put all evil\nbehind you and live--simply, bravely, well.\" The greater the evil,\nthe greater the need of forgetting. Not flippantly, but reverently,\nleave your misdeeds in a limbo where they may not rise to haunt you.\nThis great thing you may do, not with the idea of evading or escaping\nconsequences, but so that past evil may be turned into present and\nfuture good. The criminal himself is coming to be treated this way. He\nis no longer eternally reminded of his crime. He is taken out into the\nsunshine and air and is given a shovel to dig with. A wonderful thing is\nthat shovel. With it he may bury the past and raise up a happier,\nbetter future. We must care so much to expiate our sins that we are\nwilling to neglect them and live righteously. That is true repentance,\nconstructive repentance.\n\nWe cannot suddenly change our mental outlook and become happy when grief\nhas borne us down. \"For the broken heart silence and shade,\"--that is\nfair and right. I would say to those who are unhappy, \"Do not try to be\nhappy, you cannot force it; but let peace come to you out of the great\nworld of beauty that calmly surrounds our human suffering, and that\nspeaks to us quietly of God.\" Genuine laughter is not forced, but we may\nlet it come back into our lives if we know that it is right for it to\ncome.\n\nWe have all about us instances of the effectiveness of the lighter touch\nas applied to serious matters. The life of the busy surgeon is a good\nexample. He may be, and usually is, brimming with sympathy, but if he\nwere to feel too deeply for all his patients, he would soon fail and\ndie. He goes about his work. He puts through a half-dozen operations in\na way that would send cold shivers down the back of the uninitiated. And\nyet he is accurate and sure as a machine. If he were to take each case\nupon his mind in a heavy, consequential way, if he were to give deep\nconcern to each ligature he ties, and if he were to be constantly afraid\nof causing pain, he would be a poor surgeon. His work, instead of being\nclean and sharp, would suffer from over-conscientiousness. He might\nnever finish an operation for fear his patient would bleed to death.\nSuch a man may be the reverse of flippant, and yet he may actually enjoy\nhis somber work. Cruel, bloodthirsty? Not at all. These men--the great\nsurgeons--are as tender as children. But they love their work, they\nreally care very deeply for their patients. The successful ones have the\nlighter touch and they have no time for worry.\n\nSometimes we wish to arouse the public conscience. Do the long columns\nof figures, the impressive statistics, wake men to activity? It is\nrather the keen, bright thrust of the satirist that saves the day. Once\nin a New England town meeting there was a movement for a much-needed new\nschoolhouse. By the installation of skylights in the attic the old\nbuilding had been made to accommodate the overflow of pupils. The\nserious speakers in favor of the new building had left the audience\ncold, when a young man arose and said he had been up into the attic and\nhad seen the wonderful skylights that were supposed to meet the needs of\nthe children. \"I have seen them,\" he said; \"we used to call them\nscuttles when I was a boy.\" A hundred thousand dollars was voted for the\nnew schoolhouse.\n\nThere is a natural gayety in most of us which helps more than we realize\nto keep us sound. The pity is that when responsibilities come and\nhardships come, we repress our lighter selves sternly, as though such\nrepression were a duty. Better let us guard the springs of happiness\nvery, very jealously. The whistling boy in the dark street does more\nthan cheer himself on the way. He actually protects himself from evil,\nand brings courage not only to himself, but to those who hear him. I do\nnot hold for false cheerfulness that is sometimes affected, but a brave\nshow of courage in a forlorn hope will sometimes win the day. It is\ninfinitely more likely to win than a too serious realization of the\ndanger of defeat. The show of courage is often not a pretense at all,\nbut victory itself.\n\nThe need of the world is very great and its human destiny is in our\nhands. Half of those who could help to right the wrongs are asleep or\ntoo selfishly immersed in their own affairs. We need more helpers like\nmy friend of the skylights. Most of us are far too serious. The\nslumberers will slumber on, and the worriers will worry, the serious\npeople will go ponderously about until some one shows them how\nridiculous they are and how pitiful.\n\n\n\n\nIX\n\nREGRETS AND FOREBODINGS\n\n\n    Regret avails little--still less remorse--the one keeps alive\n    the old offense, the other creates new offenses.\n                GOETHE.\n\nThe unrepentant sinner walks abroad. Unfortunately for us moralists he\nseems to be having a very good time. We must not condone him, though he\nmay be a very lovable person; neither must we altogether condemn him,\nfor he may be repentant in the very best way of all ways, the way that\nforgets much and leaves behind more, because life is so fine that it\nmust not be spoiled, and because progress is in every way better than\nretrospection. The fact is, that repentance is too often the fear of\npunishment, and such fear is, to say the least, unmanly. I would rather\nbe a lovable sinner than one of the people who repent because they\ncannot bear to think of the consequences. Knowledge and fear of\nconsequences undoubtedly keep a great many young people from the\nso-called sins of ignorance. But there must be something behind\nknowledge and fear of consequences to stop the youth of spirit from\ndoing what he is inclined to do. Over and over again we must go back to\nthe appreciation of life's dignity and beauty--to the consciousness of\nthe spirit of God behind and in the world if we are to find a balance\nand a character that will \"deliver us from evil.\"\n\nWhen we have found this consciousness--when we live it and breathe it,\nwe shall be far less apt to sin, and when we have sinned, as we all must\nin the course of our blundering lives, we shall not waste our time in\nregret or in the fear of consequences. If the God we dream of is as\ngreat as the sea, or as beautiful as a tree, we need not fear Him. He\nwill be tender, and just at the same time. He will be as forgiving as\nHe is strong. The best we can do, then, is to leave our sins in the hand\nof God and go our way, sadder and wiser, maybe, but not regretting too\nmuch, not fearing any more.\n\nThere is a new idea in medicine--the development of which has been one\nof the most striking achievements of modern times--the idea of\npsychanalysis as taught and advocated by Freud in Germany. The plan\nis to study the subconscious mind of the nervous patient by means of\nhypnotism, to assist the patient to recall all the mental experiences of\nhis past,--even his very early childhood,--and in this way to make clear\nthe origin of the misconceptions and the unfortunate impressions which\nhave presumably exerted their influence through the years. The new\nsystem includes, also, the interpretation of dreams, their effect upon\nthe conscious life and their influence upon the mentality. Very\nwonderful results are reported from the pursuit of this method. Many a\nbadly warped and twisted life has been straightened out and renewed when\nthe searchlight has revealed the hidden influences that have been at\nwork and which have made trouble. The repression of conscious or\nunconscious feelings can no doubt change the whole mental life. We\nshould have the greatest respect for the men who are doing this work. It\nrequires, I am told, an almost unbelievable amount of patience and time\nto accomplish the analysis. No doubt the adult judgment of childish\nfollies is a direct means of disposing of their harmful influence in\nlife, the surest way of losing the conscious or unconscious regrets that\nsadden many lives. There are probably many cases of disturbed and\ntroubled mind that can be cured in this way only. The method does not\nappeal to me because I am so strongly inclined to take people as they\nare, to urge a forgetfulness that does not really forget, but which goes\non bravely to the development of life. This development cannot proceed\nwithout the understanding that life may be made so beautiful that sins\nand failures are lost in progress. Some of us may need the subtle\nanalysis of our lives to make clear the points where we went astray in\nour thoughts and ideas, but many of us, fortunately, are able to take\nourselves for better or for worse, sins and all. Most of us ought to do\nthat, for the most part, if we are to progress and live. Sometimes the\nrevelations of evils we know not of result in complications rather than\nsimplification, as in the case of a boy who wrote to me and said that\nsince he had learned of his early sins he had made sure that he could\nnever be well. Instead of going into further analysis with him, I\nassured him that, while it was undoubtedly his duty to regret all the\nevil of his life, it was a still greater duty to go on and live the rest\nof it well, and that he could do so if he would open his eyes to the\npossibilities of unselfish service.\n\nI am very much inclined to preach against self-analysis and the almost\ninevitable regret and despair that accompany it.\n\nOne of my patients decided some time ago that her life was wasted, that\nshe had accomplished nothing. It was true that she had not the endurance\nto meet the usual demands of social or even family life, and that for\nlong periods she had to give up altogether. But it happened that she had\nthe gift of musical understanding, that she had studied hard in younger\ndays. With a little urging the gift was made to grow again and to serve\nnot only the patient's own needs, but to bring very great pleasure to\nevery one who listened to her playing. That rare, true ability was worth\neverything, and she came to realize it in time. The gift of musical\nexpression is a very great thing, and I succeeded in making this woman\nunderstand that she should be happy in that ability even if nothing\nelse should be possible.\n\nOften enough nothing that can compare with music exists, and life seems\nwholly barren. Rather cold comfort it seems at first to assure a person\nwho is helpless that character is the greatest thing in the world, but\nthat is the final truth. The most limited and helpless life may glow\nwith it and be richer than imagination can believe. It is never time to\nregret--and never time to despair. The less analysis the better. When it\ncomes to character, live, grow, and get a deeper and deeper\nunderstanding of life--of life that is near to God and so capable of\nwrong only as we turn away from Him. \"Do not say things; what you are\nstands over you and thunders so, I cannot hear what you say to the\ncontrary.\" We shall do well not to forget that, whatever failures or\nmistakes we have made, there is infinite possibility ahead of us, that\ncharacter is the greatest thing in the world, and that most good\ncharacter has been built upon mistakes and failures. I believe there is\nno sin which may not make up the fabric of its own forgiveness in the\nliving of a free, self-sacrificing life. I know of no bodily ill nor\nhandicap which we may not eventually rise above and beyond by means of\nbrave spiritual progress. The body may fail us, but the spirit reaches\non and into the great world of God.\n\n\n\n\nX\n\nTHE VIRTUES\n\n\n    The virtues hide their vanquished fires\n    Within that whiter flame--\n    Till conscience grows irrelevant\n    And duty but a name.\n                FREDERICK LAWRENCE KNOWLES.\n\nIn most books I have read on \"nerves\" and similar subjects, advice is\ngiven, encouragement is given, but the necessity for patience is not\nmade clear. Patience is typical of all the other virtues. Many a man has\nfollowed the best of advice for a time, and has become discouraged\nbecause the promised results did not materialize. It is disappointing,\nsurely, to have lived upon a diet for months only to find that you still\nhave dyspepsia, or to have followed certain rules of morality with great\nprecision and enthusiasm without obtaining the untroubled mind. We are\naccustomed to see results in the material world and naturally expect\nthem everywhere. The trouble is we do not always recognize improvements\nwhen we see them, and we insist upon certain preconceived changes as a\nresult of our endeavors. The physician is apt rashly to promise definite\nphysical accomplishments in a given time. He is courting disappointment\nand distrust when he does so. We all want to get relief from our\nsymptoms, and we are inclined to insist upon a particular kind of relief\nso strongly that we fail to appreciate the possibilities of another and\na better relief which may be at hand. The going astray in this\nparticular is sometimes very unfortunate. I have known a man to rush\nfrantically from one doctor to another, trying to obtain relief for a\nparticular pain or discomfort, unwilling to rest long enough to find out\nthat the trouble would have disappeared naturally if he had taken the\nadvice of the first physician, to live without impatience and within his\nlimitations.\n\nThe human body is a very complex organism, and sometimes pain and\ndistress are better not relieved, since they may be the expression of\nsome deeper maladjustment which must first be straightened out. This is\nalso true of the mind--in which the unhappy proddings of conscience had\nbetter not be cured by anodynes or by evasion unless we are prepared to\ngo deeply enough to make them disappear spontaneously. We must sometimes\ninsist upon patience, though it should exist as a matter of\ncourse--patience with ourselves and with others. The physician who\ndemands and secures the greatest degree of patience from his clients is\nthe most successful practitioner, for no life can go on successfully\nwithout patience. If patience can be spontaneous,--the natural result of\na broadening outlook,--then it will be permanent and serviceable; the\nother kind, that exists by extreme effort, may do for a while, but it is\na poor makeshift.\n\nI always feel like apologizing when I ask a man or a woman to be\ntolerant or charitable or generous or, for that matter, to practice any\nof the ordinary virtues. Sound living should spring unbidden from the\nvery joy of life; it should need no justification and certainly no\nurging. But unfortunately, as the world now stands, there are men and\ngroups of men who do not see the light. There is a wide contagion of\nselfishness and short-sightedness among the well-to-do, and a necessary\nfederation of protection and selfishness among the poor. The practical\nneeds of life, artificial as they are among the rich, and terribly\ninsistent as they are among the poor, blind us to larger considerations.\n\nIf all matters of welfare, public or private, could be treated\nunselfishly, how quickly we should be rid of some of the great evils\nthat afflict the race. I am inclined to think that much of the goodness\nof people does come in that way, unconsciously, naturally, as the light\nflows from the sun. Yet I suppose that in our present order, and until,\nthrough the years, the better time arrives, we must very often ask\nourselves and others to be good and to be charitable, just because it is\nright, or worse still because it is good policy.\n\nA man grows better, more human, more intelligent, as he practices the\nvirtues. He is safer, no doubt, and the world is better. It is even true\nthat, by the constant practice of virtues, he may come finally to\nespouse goodness and become thoroughly good. That is the hopeful thing\nabout it and the reason why we may consistently ask or demand the\nroutine practice of the virtues. But let us hold up all the time in our\nteaching and in our lives the other course, the development of the\ninspiration that includes all virtues and that makes all our way easy\nand plain in a world where confusion reigns, because men are going at\nthe problem of right living the wrong way around.\n\nThe practice of good living will never be easy in its details, but if it\nis sure in its inspiration there will be no question of the final\ntriumph. We shall have to fight blindly sometimes and with all the\nstrength and persistence of animals at bay. We shall fail sometimes,\ntoo, and that is not always the worst thing that can happen. It is the\nglory of life that we shall slowly triumph over ourselves and the world.\nIt is the glory of life that out of sore trouble, in the midst of\npoverty and human injustice, may rise, spontaneous and serene, the\nspirit of self-sacrifice, the unconquerable spirit of service that does\nnot question, that expresses the divine tenderness in terms of human\nlove. Through the times of darkness and doubt which must inevitably\ncome, there will be for those who cherish such a vision, and who come\nback to it again and again, no utter darkness, no trouble that wholly\ncrushes, no loss that wholly destroys.\n\nIf we could not understand it before, it will slowly dawn upon us that\nthe life of Christ exemplified all these things. Charity, kindliness,\nservice, patience,--all these things which have seemed so hard will\nbecome in our lives, as in his, the substance and expression of our\nfaith. The great human virtues will become easy and natural, the\nuntroubled mind, or as much of it as is good to possess, will be ours,\nnot because we have escaped trouble, but because we have disarmed it,\nhave welcomed it even, so long as it has served to strengthen and\nennoble our lives.\n\n\n\n\nXI\n\nTHE CURE BY FAITH\n\n\n    The healing of his seamless dress\n    Is by our beds of pain--\n    We touch Him in life's throng and press,\n    And we are whole again.\n                WHITTIER.\n\nI cannot finish my little book of ideals without writing some things\nthat are in my mind about cure by faith or by prayer. It is a subject\nthat I approach with hesitation because of the danger of\nmisunderstanding. No subject is more difficult and none is more\nimportant for the invalid to understand. We hear a great deal about the\nwonderful cures of Christian Science or of similar agencies, and we all\nknow of people who have been restored to usefulness by such means. Has\nthe healing of Christ again become possible on earth? No one would be\nmore eager to accept it and acknowledge it than the physician if it\nwere really so. But careful investigation always reveals the fact that\nthe wonderful cures are not of the body but of the mind. It is easy\nenough to say that a cancer or tuberculosis has been cured by faith, and\napparently easy for many people to believe it, but alas, the proof is\nwanting. The Christian Scientist, honest and sincere as he may be, is\nnot qualified to say what is true disease and what is not. What looks\nlike diseased tissue recovers, but medical men know that it could not\nhave been diseased in the most serious sense, and that the prayer for\nrecovery could have had nothing to do with the cure, save in a very\nindirect way.\n\nThe man who discards medicine for philosophy or religion is courting\nunnecessary suffering and even death. The worst part of it is that he\nmay induce some one else to make the same mistake with similar results.\nIn writing this opinion I am in no way denying the great significance\nand value of faith nor of the prayerful and trustful mind. If it cannot\ncure actual physical disease, faith can accomplish veritable miracles of\nhealing in the mind of the patient. No thoughtful or honest medical man\nwill deny it. Nor will most medical men deny that the course of almost\nany physical illness may be modified by faith and prayer. I am almost\nsaying that there is no known medicine of such potency. Every bodily\nfunction is the better for the conquering spirit that transcends the\nearth and finds its necessary expression in prayer.\n\nThere really need be no issue or disagreement between medicine and faith\ncure. At its best, one is not more wonderful than the other, and both\naim to accomplish the same end--the relief of human suffering. When the\ntwo are merged, as some day they will be, we shall be surprised to\ndiscover how alike they are. Christian Science is rightly scorned by\nmedical men because it is unscientific, because it makes absurd and\nuntenable claims outside its own field, and because it has not as yet\ninvestigated that field in the scientific spirit. When proper study and\ninvestigation have been made it will be found that faith cure, not in\nits present state, but in some future development, will have an immense\nfield of usefulness. It will be worthy of as much respect in that field\nas medicine proper in its own sphere. As a matter of fact both medicine\nand faith cure are miraculous in a very real sense, as both depend for\nefficiency now and always upon the same great laws which may be fairly\ncalled divine. What is the discovery that the serum of a horse will\nunder certain circumstances cure diphtheria? Does it not mean that man\nis tapping sources of power far beyond his understanding? Is man\nresponsible save as the agent? Did he produce the complex animal\nchemistry that makes this cure possible? Did man make the horse, or the\nlaws that control the physiology and pathology of that animal? Here,\nthen, is faith cure in its largest and best sense. The biologist may not\nbe willing to admit it, but his faith in these great laws of God have\nmade possible the cure of a dread disease. Here, as in all matters of\npure religion, it is what men say and write, not the fact itself, that\nmakes all the misunderstanding; we make our judgments and conceive our\nprejudices from mere surface considerations. Call life what you\nwill,--leave out the symbolic word \"God\" altogether,--the facts remain.\nThe true scientific spirit must reverence and adore the power that lies\nbehind creation. It is as inconsistent for the bacteriologist to be an\nunbeliever as it is for the Christian Scientist to deny the value of\nbacteriology. Medicine is infinitely farther advanced than Christian\nScience, and yet Christian Science has grasped some truth that the\nnatural scientist has stupidly missed. When an obsession is thrown off\nand courage substituted for fear, we witness as important a \"cure\" as\ncan be shown to the credit of surgery. If the Christian Scientists and\nthe other faith-curers were only less superficial and less narrow in\ntheir explanation of the facts, if they would condescend to study the\ndiseases they treat, they would be entitled to, and would receive, more\nrespect and consideration.\n\nThe cure and prevention of disease through the agency of man are\nevidently part of the divine plan. Our eagerness to advance along the\nlines of investigation and practice is but that divine plan in action.\nThe truly scientific spirit will neglect no possible curative agent.\nWhen scientific men ridicule prayer, they are thinking not of the real\nthing which is above all possible criticism, but of the feeble and often\npathetic groping for the real thing. We ask in our prayers for\nimpossible blessings that would invert the laws of God and change the\nface of nature--very well, we must be prepared for disappointment. The\nattitude of prayer may, indeed, transform our own lives and make\npossible for us experiences that would otherwise have been impossible.\nBut our pathetic demands--we shall never know how forlorn and weak they\nare. Prayer is the opening of the heart to the being we call God--it is\nmost natural and reasonable. If we pray in our weakness and blindness\nfor what we may not have, there is, nevertheless, a wonderful\nre-creative effect within us. The comfort and peace of such communion is\nbeyond all else healing and restoring in its influence upon the troubled\nand anxious mind of man. The poet or the scientist who bows in adoration\nbefore the glory of God revealed in nature, prays in effect to that God\nand his soul is refreshed and renewed. The poor wretch who stands\nblindfolded before the firing squad, waiting the word that ends the life\nof a military spy, is near enough to God--and the whispered prayer upon\nhis lips is cure for the wounds that take his life.\n\nThe best kind of prayer seeks not and asks not for physical relief or\nbenefit, but opens the heart to its maker, and so receives the cure of\npeace that is a greater miracle than any yet wrought by man. Under the\ninfluence of that cure the sick are well and the dead are alive again.\nWith the courage and spirit of such a cure in our lives, we shall\ninevitably do our utmost to relieve, by any good means, the physical\nsuffering of the world. We shall follow the laws of nature. We shall\nstudy them with the utmost care. We shall take nothing for granted,\nsince by less careful steps we shall miss the divine law and so go\nastray. The science of healing will become no chance and irrational\nthing. We shall use all the natural means to relieve and prevent\nsuffering--there will be no scoring of one set of doctors by another\nbecause all will have one purpose. But more to the point than that, men\nwill discover that health in its largest sense consists in living devout\nand prayerful lives whereunto shall be revealed in good time all that\nour finite minds can know and use. There will be no suffering of the\nbody in the old and pitiful sense, for we shall be so much alive that\ndisease and death can no longer claim us.\n\n\nTHE END","title":"The Untroubled Mind","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":15546}