{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_4338/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_4338","id":"gutenberg_4338","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/4338","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Category: Psychiatry/Psychology","Mental health"],"text":"Produced by Steve Solomon\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE FREEDOM OF LIFE\n\nBY\n\nANNIE PAYSON CALL\n\n_Author of \"Power Through Repose,\"\n\n\"As a Matter of Course,\" etc._\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n_FREEDOM_\n\n\n\n\n\n_LORD GOD of Israel,--\nWhere Thou art we are free!\nCall out Thy people, Lord, we pray,\nFrom Egypt unto Thee.\nOpen our eyes that we may see\nOur bondage in the past,--\nOh, help us, Lord, to keep Thy law,\nAnd make us free at last!_\n\n_Lord God of Israel,--\nWhere Thou art we are free!\nFreed from the rule of alien minds,\nWe turn our hearts to Thee.\nThe alien hand weighs heavily,\nAnd heavy is our sin,--\nThy children cry to Thee, O Lord,--\nTheir God,--to take them in._\n\n_Lord God of Israel,--\nWhere Thou 'art we are free\nCast down our idols from on high,\nThat we may worship Thee.\nIn freedom we will live Thy Love\nOut from our inmost parts;\nUpon our foreheads bind Thy Law,--\nEngrave it on our hearts!_\n\n_Amen._\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\nTHE FREEDOM OF LIFE\n\nHOW TO SLEEP RESTFULLY\n\nRESISTANCE\n\nHURRY, WORRY, AND IRRITABILITY\n\nNERVOUS FEARS\n\nSELF-CONSCIOUSNESS\n\nTHE CIRCUMSTANCES OF LIFE\n\nOTHER PEOPLE\n\nHUMAN SYMPATHY\n\nPERSONAL INDEPENDENCE\n\nSELF-CONTROL\n\nTHE RELIGION OF IT\n\nABOUT CHRISTMAS\n\nTO MOTHERS\n\n\n\n\n\n\n_INTRODUCTION_\n\n\n\n\n\nINTERIOR freedom rests upon the principle of non-resistance to\nall the things which seem evil or painful to our natural love of\nself. But non-resistance alone can accomplish nothing good unless,\nbehind it, there is a strong love for righteousness and truth. By\nrefusing to resist the ill will of others, or the stress of\ncircumstances, for the sake of greater usefulness and a clearer\npoint of view, we deepen our conviction of righteousness as the\nfundamental law of fife, and broaden our horizon so as to appreciate\nvarying and opposite points of view. The only non-resistance that\nbrings this power is the kind which yields mere personal and selfish\nconsiderations for the sake of principles. Selfish and weak yielding\nmust always do harm. Unselfish yielding, on the other hand,\nstrengthens the will and increases strength of purpose as the petty\nobstacles of mere self-love are removed. Concentration alone cannot\nlong remain wholesome, for it needs the light of growing\nself-knowledge to prevent its becoming self-centred. Yielding alone\nis of no avail, for in itself it has no constructive power. But if\nwe try to look at ourselves as we really are, we shall find great\nstrength in yielding where only our small and private interests are\nconcerned, and concentrating upon living the broad principles of\nrighteousness which must directly or indirectly affect all those\nwith whom we come into contact.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nI\n\n_The Freedom of Life_\n\n\n\n\n\nI AM so tired I must give up work,\" said a young woman with a very\nstrained and tearful face; and it seemed to her a desperate state,\nfor she was dependent upon work for her bread and butter. If she\ngave up work she gave up bread and butter, and that meant\nstarvation. When she was asked why she did not keep at work and\nlearn to do it without getting so tired, that seemed to her absurd,\nand she would have laughed if laughing had been possible.\n\n\"I tell you the work has tired me so that I cannot stand it, and you\nask me to go back and get rest out of it when I am ready to die of\nfatigue. Why don't you ask me to burn myself, on a piece of ice, or\nfreeze myself with a red-hot poker?\"\n\n\"But,\" the answer was, \"it is not the work that tires you at all, it\nis the way you do it;\" and, after a little soothing talk which\nquieted the overexcited nerves, she began to feel a dawning\nintelligence, which showed her that, after all, there might be life\nin the work which she had come to look upon as nothing but slow and\npainful death. She came to understand that she might do her work as\nif she were working very lazily, going from one thing to another\nwith a feeling as near to entire indifference as she could\ncultivate, and, at the same time, do it well. She was shown by\nillustrations how she might walk across the room and take a book off\nthe table as if her life depended upon it, racing and pushing over\nthe floor, grabbing the book and clutching it until she got back to\nher seat, or, how she might move with exaggerated laziness take the\nbook up loosely, and drag herself back again. This illustration\nrepresents two extremes, and one, in itself, is as bad as the other;\nbut, when the habit has been one of unnecessary strain and effort,\nthe lazy way, practised for a time, will not only be very restful,\nbut will eventually lead to movement which is quick as well.\n\nTo take another example, you may write holding the pen with much\nmore force than is needful, tightening your throat and tongue at the\nsame time, or you may drag your pen along the paper and relieve the\ntendency to tension in your throat and tongue by opening your mouth\nslightly and letting your jaw hang loosely. These again are two\nextremes, but, if the habit has been one of tension, a persistent\npractice of the extreme of looseness will lead to a quiet mode of\nwriting in which ten pages can be finished with the effort it\nformerly took to write one.\n\nSometimes the habit of needless strain has taken such a strong hold\nthat the very effort to work quietly seems so unnatural as to cause\nmuch nervous suffering. To turn the corner from a bad habit into a\ntrue and wholesome one is often very painful, but, the first pain\nworked through, the right habit grows more and more easy, until\nfinally the better way carries us along and we take it\ninvoluntarily.\n\nFor the young woman who felt she had come to the end of her powers,\nit was work or die; therefore, when she had become rested enough to\nsee and understand at all, she welcomed the idea that it was not her\nwork that tired her, but the way in which she did it, and she\nlistened eagerly to the directions that should teach her to do it\nwith less fatigue, and, as an experiment, offered to go back and try\nthe \"lazy way\" for a week. At the end of a week she reported that\nthe \"lazy way\" had rested her remarkably, but she did not do her\nwork so well. Then she had to learn that she could keep more quietly\nand steadily concentrated upon her work, doing it accurately and\nwell, without in the least interfering with the \"lazy way.\" Indeed,\nthe better concentrated we are, the more easily and restfully we can\nwork, for concentration does not mean straining every nerve and\nmuscle toward our work,--it means _dropping everything that\ninterferes,_ and strained nerves and muscles constitute a very\nbondage of interference.\n\nThe young woman went back to her work for another week's experiment,\nand this time returned with a smiling face, better color, and a new\nand more quiet life in her eyes. She had made the \"lazy way\" work,\nand found a better power of concentration at the same time. She knew\nthat it was only a beginning, but she felt secure now in the certain\nknowledge that it was not her work that had been killing her, but\nthe way in which she had done it; and she felt confident of her\npower to do it restfully and, at the same time, better than before.\nMoreover, in addition to practising the new way of working, she\nplanned to get regular exercise in the open air, even if it had to\ncome in the evening, and to eat only nourishing food. She has been\nat work now for several years, and, at last accounts, was still\nbusy, with no temptation to stop because of overfatigue.\n\nIf any reader is conscious of suffering now from the strain of his\nwork and would like to get relief, the first thing to do is to\nnotice that it is less the work that tires him than his way of doing\nit, and the attitude of his mind toward it. Beginning with that\nconviction, there comes at first an interest in the process of\ndropping strain and then a new interest in the work itself, and a\nhealthy concentration in doing the merest drudgery as well as it can\nbe done, makes the drudgery attractive and relieves one from the\noppressive fatigue of uninteresting monotony.\n\nIf you have to move your whole body in your daily work, the first\ncare should be to move the feet and legs heavily. Feel as if each\nfoot weighed a ton, and each hand also; and while you work take\nlong, quiet breaths,--breaths such as you see a man taking when he\nis very quietly and soundly sleeping.\n\nIf the work is sedentary, it is a help before starting in the\nmorning to drop your head forward very loosely, slowly and heavily,\nand raise it very slowly, then take a long, quiet breath. Repeat\nthis several times until you begin to feel a sense of weight in your\nhead. If there is not time in the morning, do it at night and recall\nthe feeling while you are dressing or while you are going to work,\nand then, during your work, stop occasionally just to feel your head\nheavy and then go on. Very soon you become sensitive to the tension\nin the back of your neck and drop it without stopping work at all.\n\nLong, quiet breaths while you work are always helpful. If you are\nworking in bad air, and cannot change the air, it is better to try\nto have the breaths only quiet and gentle, and take long, full\nbreaths whenever you are out-of-doors and before going to sleep at\nnight.\n\nOf course, a strained way of working is only one cause of nervous\nfatigue; there are others, and even more important ones, that need\nto be understood in order that we may be freed from the bondage of\nnervous strain which keeps so many of us from our best use and\nhappiness.\n\nMany people are in bondage because of doing wrong, but many more\nbecause of doing right in the wrong way. Real freedom is only found\nthrough obedience to law, and when, because of daily strain, a man\nfinds himself getting overtired and irritable, the temptation is to\nthink it easier to go on working in the wrong way than to make the\neffort to learn how to work in the right way. At first the effort\nseems only to result in extra strain, but, if persisted in quietly,\nit soon becomes apparent that it is leading to less and less strain,\nand finally to restful work.\n\nThere are laws for rest, laws for work, and laws for play, which, if\nwe find and follow them, lead us to quiet, useful lines of life,\nwhich would be impossible without them. They are the laws of our own\nbeing, and should carry us as naturally as the instincts of the\nanimals carry them, and so enable us to do right in the right way,\nand make us so sure of the manner in which we do our work that we\ncan give all our attention to the work itself; and when we have the\nright habit of working, the work itself must necessarily gain,\nbecause we can put the best of ourselves into it.\n\nIt is helpful to think of the instincts of the beasts, how true and\norderly they are, on their own plane, and how they are only\nperverted when the animals have come under the influence of man.\nImagine Baloo, the bear in Mr. Kipling's \"Jungle Book,\" being asked\nhow he managed to keep so well and rested. He would look a little\nsurprised and say: \"Why, I follow the laws of my being. How could I\ndo differently?\" Now that is just the difference between man and\nbeast. Man can do differently. And man has done differently now for\nso many generations that not one in ten thousand really recognizes\nwhat the laws of his being are, except in ways so gross that it\nseems as if we had sunken to the necessity of being guided by a\ncrowbar, instead of steadily following the delicate instinct which\nis ours by right, and so voluntarily accepting the guidance of the\nPower who made us, which is the only possible way to freedom.\n\nOf course the laws of a man's being are infinitely above the laws of\na beast's. The laws of a man's being are spiritual, and the animal\nin man is meant to be the servant of his soul. Man's true guiding\ninstincts are in his soul,--he can obey them or not, as he chooses;\nbut the beast's instincts are in his body, and he has no choice but\nto obey. Man can, so to speak, get up and look down on himself. He\ncan be his own father and his own mother. From his true instinct he\ncan say to himself, \"you must do this\" or \"You must not do that.\" He\ncan see and understand his tendency to disobedience, and _he can\nforce himself to obey._ Man can see the good and wholesome animal\ninstincts in himself that lead to lasting health and strength, and\nhe can make them all the good servants of his soul. He can see the\ntendency to overindulgence, and how it leads to disease and to evil,\nand he can refuse to permit that wrong tendency to rule him.\n\nEvery man has his own power of distinguishing between right and\nwrong, and his own power of choosing which way he shall follow. He\nis left free to choose God's way or to choose his own. Through past\nand present perversions, of natural habit he has lost the delicate\npower of distinguishing the normal from the abnormal, and needs to\nbe educated back to it. The benefit of this education is an\nintelligent consciousness of the laws of life, which not only adds\nto his own strength of mind and body, but increases immeasurably his\npower of use to others. Many customs of to-day fix and perpetuate\nabnormal habits to such an extent that, combined with our own\nselfish inheritances and personal perversions, they dim the light of\nour minds so that many of us are working all the time in a fog, more\nor less dense, of ignorance and bondage. When a man chooses the\nright and refuses the wrong, in so far as he sees it, he becomes\nwise from within and from without, his power for distinguishing\ngradually improves, the fog lifts, and he finds within himself a\nsure and delicate instinct which was formerly atrophied for want of\nuse.\n\nThe first thing to understand without the shadow of a doubt, is\nthat, man is not in freedom when he is following his own selfish\ninstincts. He is only in the appearance of freedom, and the\nappearance of freedom, without the reality, leads invariably to the\nworst bondage. A man who loves drink feels that he is free if he can\ndrink as much as he wants, but that leads to degradation and\ndelirium tremens. A man who has an inherited tendency toward the\ndisobedience of any law feels that he is free if he has the\nopportunity to disobey it whenever he wants to. But whatever the law\nmay be, the results have only to be carried to their logical\nconclusion to make clear the bondage to which the disobedience\nleads. All this disobedience to law leads to an inevitable,\ninflexible, unsurmountable limit in the end, whereas steady effort\ntoward obedience to law is unlimited in its development of strength\nand power for use to others. Man must understand his selfish\ntendencies in order to subdue and control them, until they become\nsubject to his own unselfish tendencies, which are the spiritual\nlaws within him. Thus he gradually becomes free,--soul and\nbody,--with no desire to disobey, and with steadily increasing joy\nin his work and life. So much for the bondage of doing wrong, and\nthe freedom of doing right, which it seems necessary to touch upon,\nin order to show clearly the bondage of doing right in the wrong\nway, and the freedom of doing right in the right way.\n\nIt is right to work for our daily bread, and for the sake of use to\nothers, in whatever form it may present itself. The wrong way of\ndoing it makes unnecessary strain, overfatigue and illness. The\nright way of working gives, as we have said before, new power and\njoy in the work; it often turns even drudgery into pleasure, for\nthere is a special delight in learning to apply one's self in a true\nspirit to \"drudgery.\" The process of learning such true application\nof one's powers often reveals new possibilities in work.\n\nIt is right for most people to sleep eight hours every night. The\nwrong way of doing it is to go to sleep all doubled up, and to\ncontinue to work all night in our sleep, instead of giving up and\nresting entirely. The right way gives us the fullest possible amount\nof rest and refreshment.\n\nIt is right to take our three meals a day, and all the nourishing\nfood we need. The wrong way of doing it, is to eat very fast,\nwithout chewing our food carefully, and to give our stomachs no\nrestful opportunity of preparation to receive its food, or to take\ngood care of it after it is received. The right way gives us the\nopportunity to assimilate the food entirely, so that every bit of\nfuel we put into our bodies is burnt to some good purpose, and makes\nus more truly ready to receive more.\n\nIt is right to play and amuse ourselves for rest and recreation. We\nplay in the wrong way when we use ourselves up in the strain of\nplaying, in the anxiety lest we should not win in a game, or when we\nplay in bad air. When we play in the right way, there is no strain,\nno anxiety, only good fun and refreshment and rest.\n\nWe might go through the narrative of an average life in showing\nbriefly the wonderful difference between doing right in the right\nway, and doing right in the wrong way. It is not too much to say\nthat the difference in tendency is as great as that between life and\ndeath.\n\nIt is one thing to read about orderly living and to acknowledge that\nthe ways described are good and true, and quite another to have\none's eyes opened and to act from the new knowledge, day by day,\nuntil a normal mode of life is firmly established. It requires\nquiet, steady force of will to get one's self out of bad, and well\nestablished in good habits. After the first interest and relief\nthere often has to be steady plodding before the new way becomes\neasy; but if we do not allow ourselves to get discouraged, we are\nsure to gain our end, for we are opening ourselves to the influence\nof the true laws within us, and in finding and obeying these we are\napproaching the only possible Freedom of Life.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nII\n\n_How to Sleep Restfully_\n\n\n\n\n\nIT would seem that at least one might be perfectly free in sleep.\nBut the habits of cleaving to mistaken ways of living cannot be\nthrown off at night and taken up again in the morning. They go to\nsleep with us and they wake with us.\n\nIf, however, we learn better habits of sleeping, that helps us in\nour life through the day. And learning better habits through the day\nhelps us to get more rest from our sleep. At the end of a good day\nwe can settle down more quickly to get ready for sleep, and, when we\nwake in the morning, find ourselves more ready to begin the day to\ncome.\n\nThere are three things that prevent sleep,--overfatigue, material\ndisturbances from the outside, and mental disturbances from, within.\n\nIt is not uncommon to hear people say, \"I was too tired to sleep\"--but\nit is not generally known how great a help it is at such times\nnot to try to sleep, but to go to work deliberately to get I rested\nin preparation for it. In nine cases out of ten it is the\nunwillingness to lie awake that keeps us awake. We wonder why we do\nnot sleep. We toss and turn and wish we could sleep. We fret, and\nfume, and worry, because we do not sleep. We think of all we have to\ndo on the following day, and are oppressed with the thought that we\ncannot do it if we do not sleep. First, we try one experiment to see\nif it will not make us sleep, and when it fails, we try another, and\nperhaps another. In each experiment we, are watching to see if it\nwill work. There are many things to do, any one of which might help\nus to sleep, but the _watching to see if they will work keeps us\nawake._\n\nWhen we are kept awake from our fatigue, the first thing to do is to\nsay over and over to ourselves that we do not care whether we sleep\nor not, in order to imbue ourselves with a healthy indifference\nabout it. It will help toward gaining this wholesome indifference to\nsay \"I am too tired to sleep, and therefore, the first thing for me\nto do is to get rested in order to prepare for sleep. When my brain\nis well rested, it will go to sleep; it cannot help it. When it is\nwell rested, it will sleep just as naturally as my lungs breathe, or\nas my heart beats.\"\n\nIn order to rest our brains we want to lie quietly, relaxing all our\nmuscles, and taking even, quiet breaths. It is good when we can take\nlong, full breaths, but sometimes that is too fatiguing; and then we\nmust not only take moderately long, breaths, but be careful to have\nthem gentle, quiet, and rhythmic. To make a plan of breathing and\nfollow it keeps the mind steadily concentrated on the breathing, and\ngives the rest of the brain, which has been working on other things,\na chance to relax and find its own freedom and rest. It is helpful\nto inhale while we count seven, exhale while we count seven, then\nrest and breathe naturally while we count seven, and to repeat the\nseries of three for seven times; but to be strict with ourselves and\nsee that we only do it seven times, not once more nor once less.\nThen we should wait a little and try it again,--and so keep on for a\nnumber of times, repeating the same series; and we should always be\nsure to have the air in our bedrooms as fresh as possible. If the\nbreathing is steady and rhythmical it helps very much, and to inhale\nand exhale over and over for half an hour has a very pleasant,\nquieting effect--sometimes such exercises make us nervous at first,\nand, if we are very tired, that often happens; but, if we keep\nsteadily at work, the nervousness disappears and restful quiet\nfollows which very often brings restoring and refreshing sleep.\n\nAnother thing to remember--and it is very important--is that an\novertired brain needs more than the usual nourishment. If you have\nbeen awake for an hour, and it is three hours after your last meal,\ntake half a cup, or a cup of hot milk. If you are awake for another\ntwo hours take half a cup more, and so, at intervals of about two.\nhours, so long as you are awake throughout the night. Hot milk is\nnourishing and a sedative. It is not inconvenient to have milk by\nthe side of one's bed, and a little saucepan and spirit lamp, so\nthat the milk can be heated without getting up, and the quiet simple\noccupation of heating it is sometimes restful in itself.\n\nThere are five things to remember to help rest an overtired brain:\n1. A healthy indifference to wakefulness. 2. Concentration of the\nmind on simple things. 3. Relaxation of the body. 4. Gentle rhythmic\nbreathing of fresh air. 5. Regular nourishment. If we do not lose\ncourage, but keep on steadily night after night, with a healthy\npersistence in remembering and practising these five things, we\nshall often find that what might have been a very long period of\nsleeplessness may be materially shortened and that the sleep which\nfollows the practice of the exercises is better, sounder, and more\nrefreshing, than the sleep that came before. In many cases a long or\nshort period of insomnia can be absolutely prevented by just these\nsimple means.\n\nHere is perhaps the place to say that all narcotics are in such\ncases, absolutely pernicious.\n\nThey may bring sleep at the time, but eventually they lose their\neffect, and leave the nervous system in a state of strain which\ncannot be helped by anything but time, through much suffering that\nmight have been avoided.\n\nWhen we are not necessarily overtired but perhaps only a little\ntired from the day's work, it is not uncommon to be kept awake by a\nflapping curtain or a swinging door, by unusual noises in the\nstreets, or by people talking. How often we hear it said, \"It did\nseem hard when I went to bed tired last night that I should have\nbeen kept awake by a noise like that--and now this morning, I am\nmore tired than when I went to bed.\"\n\nThe head nurse in a large hospital said once in distress: \"I wish\nthe nurses could be taught to step lightly over my head, so that\nthey would not keep me awake at night.\" It would have been a\nsurprise to her if she had been told that her head could be taught\nto yield to the steps of the nurses, so that their walking would not\nkeep her awake.\n\nIt is resistance that keeps us awake in all such cases. The curtain\nflaps, and we resist it; the door swings to over and over again, and\nwe resist it, and keep ourselves awake by wondering why it does not\nstop; we hear noises in the street that we am unused to, especially\nif we are accustomed to sleeping in the stillness of the country,\nand we toss and turn and wish we were in a quiet place. All the\ntrouble comes from our own resistance to the noise, and resistance\nis nothing but unwillingness to submit to our conditions.\n\nIf we are willing that the curtain should go on flapping, the door\ngo on slamming, or the noise in the street continue steadily on, our\nbrains yield to the conditions and so sleep naturally, because the\nnoise goes through us, so to speak, and does not run hard against\nour unwillingness to hear it.\n\nThere are three facts which may help to remove the resistance which\nnaturally arises at any unusual sound when we are tired and want to\nget rest.\n\nOne is that in almost every sound there is a certain rhythm. If we\nyield to the sound enough to become sensitive to its rhythm, that,\nin itself, is soothing, and what before was keeping us awake now\n_helps us to go to sleep._ This pleasant effect of finding the\nrhythm in sound is especially helpful if one is inclined to lie\nawake while travelling in sleeping cars. The rhythm of sound and\nmotion in sleeping cars and steamers is, in itself, soothing. If you\nhave the habit of feeling as if you could never get refreshing sleep\nin a sleeping car, first be sure that you have as much fresh air as\npossible, and then make up your mind that you will spend the whole\nnight, if necessary, in noticing the rhythm of the motion and sound\nof the cars. If you keep your mind steadily on it, you will probably\nbe asleep in less than an hour, and, when the car stops, you will\nwake only enough to settle comfortably into the sense of motion when\nit starts again. It is pleasant to notice the gentleness with which\na good engineer starts his train at night. Of course there is a\ndifference in engineers, and some are much more gentle in starting\ntheir engines than others, but the delicacy with which the engine is\nstarted by the most expert is delightful to feel, and gives us many\na lesson on the use of gentle beginnings, with other things besides\nlocomotive engines, and especially in our dealings with each other.\n\nThe second fact with regard to yielding, instead of resisting, in\norder to get to sleep is that listening alone, apart from rhythm,\ntends to make one sleepy, and this leads us at once to the third\nfact, that getting to sleep is nothing but a healthy form of\nconcentration.\n\nIf true concentration is dropping everything that interferes with\nfixing our attention upon some wholesome object, it means merely\nbringing the brain into a normal state which induces sleep when\nsleep is needed. First we drop everything that interferes with the\none simple subject, and then we drop that, and are unconscious.\n\nOf course it may take some time to make ourselves willing to submit\nto an unusual noise if we have the habit of feeling that we must\nnecessarily be disturbed by it, and, if we can stop the noise, it is\nbetter to stop it than to give ourselves unnecessary tasks in\nnon-resistance.\n\nThen again, if we are overtired, our brains are sometimes so\nsensitive that the effect of any noise is like that of being struck\nin a sore spot, and then it is much more difficult to bear it, and\nwe can only make the suffering a little less by yielding and being\nwilling that it should go on. I cannot go to sleep while some one is\nknocking my lame arm, nor can I go to sleep while a noise is hitting\nmy tired brain; but in such cases we can give up expecting to go to\nsleep, and get a great deal of rest by using our wills steadily not\nto resist; and sometimes, even then, sleep will come upon us\nunexpectedly.\n\nWith regard to the use of the will, perhaps the most dangerous\npitfall to be avoided is the use of drugs. It is not too much to say\nthat they never should be used at all for cases of pure\nsleeplessness, for with time their power to bring sleep gradually\nbecomes exhausted, and then the patient finds himself worse off than\nbefore, for the reactionary effect of the drugs leaves him with\nexhausted nerves and a weakened will. All the strengthening, moral\neffect which can be gained from overcoming sleeplessness in\nwholesome ways is lost by a recourse to drugs, and character is\nweakened instead of strengthened.\n\nWhen one has been in the habit of sleeping in the city, where the\nnoise of the street is incessant, a change to the perfect silence of\nthe country will often keep sleep off quite as persistently as\nnoise. So with a man who has been in the habit of sleeping under\nother abnormal conditions, the change to normal conditions will\nsometimes keep him awake until he has adjusted himself to them, and\nit is not uncommon for people to be so abnormal that they resist\nrhythm itself, such as is heard in the rolling of the sea, or the\nrushing of a river.\n\nThe re-adjustment from abnormal to normal conditions of sleeping may\nbe made surely if we set about it with a will, for we have all\nnature on our side. Silence is orderly for the night's rest, and\nrhythm only emphasizes and enhances the silence, when it is the\nrhythm of nature.\n\nThe habit of resistance cannot be changed in a single day--it must\ntake time; but if the meaning, the help, and the normal power of\nnon-resistance is clearly understood, and the effort to gain it is\npersistent, not only the power to sleep, but a new sense of freedom\nmay be acquired which is quite beyond the conception of those who\nare in the daily habit of resistance.\n\nWhen we lie down at night and become conscious that our arms and our\nlegs and our whole bodies are resting heavily upon the bed, we are\nletting go all the resistance which has been left stored in our\nmuscles from the activities of the day.\n\nA cat, when she lies down, lets go all resistance at once, because\nshe moves with the least possible effort; but there are very few men\nwho do that, and so men go to their rest with more or less\nresistance stored in their bodies, and they must go through a\nconscious process of dropping it before they can settle to sleep as\na normal child does, without having to think about how it is done.\nThe conscious process, however, brings a quiet, conscious joy in the\nrest, which opens the mind to soothing influences, and brings a more\nprofound refreshment than is given even to the child--and with the\nrefreshment new power for work.\n\nOne word more about outside disturbances before we turn to those\ninterior ones which are by far the most common preventatives of\nrefreshing sleep. The reader will say: \"How can I be willing that\nthe noise should go on when I am not willing?\" The answer is, \"If\nyou can see clearly that if you were willing, the noises would not\ninterfere with your sleep, then you can find the ability within you\nto make yourself willing.\"\n\nIt is wonderful to realize the power we gain by compelling and\ncontrolling our desires or aversions through the intelligent use of\nthe will, and it is easier to compel ourselves to do right against\ntemptation than to force ourselves to do wrong against a true\nconviction. Indeed it is most difficult, if not impossible, to force\nourselves to do wrong against a strong sense of right. Behind an our\ndesires, aversions, and inclinations each one of us possesses a\ncapacity for a higher will, the exercise of which, on the side of\norder and righteousness, brings into being the greatest power in\nhuman life. The power of character is always in harmony with the\nlaws of truth and order, and although we must sometimes make a great\neffort of the will to do right against our inclinations the ease of\nsuch effort increases as the power of character increases, and\nstrength of will grows steadily by use, because it receives its life\nfrom the eternal will and is finding its way to harmony with that.\n\nIt is the lower, selfish will that often keeps us awake by causing\ninterior disturbances.\n\nAn actor may have a difficult part to play, and feel that a great\ndeal depends upon his success. He stays awake with anxiety, and this\nanxiety is nothing but resistance to the possibility of failure. The\nfirst thing for him to do is to teach himself to be willing to fail.\nIf he becomes willing to fail, then all his anxiety will go, and he\nwill be able to sleep and get the rest and new life which he needs\nin order to play the part well. If he is willing to fail, then all\nthe nervous force which before was being wasted in anxiety is set\nfree for use in the exercise of his art.\n\nLooking forward to what is going to happen on the next day, or\nwithin a few days, may cause so much anxiety as to keep us awake;\nbut if we have a good, clear sense of the futility of resistance,\nwhether our expected success or failure depends on ourselves or on\nothers, we can compel ourselves to a quiet willingness which will\nmake our brains quiet and receptive to restful sleep, and so enable\nus to wake with new power for whatever task or pleasure may lie\nbefore us.\n\nOf course we are often kept awake by the sense of having done wrong.\nIn such cases the first thing to do is to make a free acknowledgment\nto ourselves of the wrong we have done, and then to make up our\nminds to do the right thing at once. That, if the wrong done is not\ntoo serious, will put us to sleep; and if the next day we go about\nour work remembering the lesson we have learned, we probably will\nhave little trouble in sleeping.\n\nIf Macbeth had had the truth and courage to tell Lady Macbeth that\nboth he and she were wicked plotters and murderers, and that he\nintended, for his part, to stop being a scoundrel, and, if he had\npersisted in carrying out his good intentions, he would never have\n\"murdered sleep.\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\n_Resistance_\n\n\n\n\n\nA MAN once grasped a very hot poker with his hand, and although he\ncried out with pain, held on to the poker. His friend called out to\nhim to drop it, whereupon the man indignantly cried out the more.\n\n\"Drop it? How can you expect me to think of dropping it with pain\nlike this? I tell you when a man is suffering, as I am, he can think\nof nothing but the pain.\"\n\nAnd the more indignant he was, the tighter he held on to the poker,\nand the more he cried out with pain.\n\nThis story in itself is ridiculous, but it is startlingly true as an\nillustration of what people are doing every day.\n\nThere is an instinct in us to drop every hot poker at once; and\nprobably we should be able to drop any other form of unnecessary\ndisagreeable sensation as soon as possible, if we had not lost that\nwholesome instinct through want of use. As it is, we must learn to\nre-acquire the lost faculty by the deliberate use of our\nintelligence and will.\n\nIt is as if we had lost our freedom and needed to be shown the way\nback to it, step by step. The process is slow but very interesting,\nif we are in earnest; and when, after wandering in the bypaths, we\nfinally strike the true road, we find our lost faculty waiting for\nus, and all that we have learned in reaching it is so much added\npower.\n\nBut at present we are dealing in the main with a world which has no\nsuspicion of such instincts or faculties as these, and is suffering\nalong in blind helplessness. A man will drop a hot poker as soon as\nhe feels it burn, but he will tighten his muscles and hold on to a\ncold in his head so persistently that he only gets rid of it at all\nbecause nature is stronger than he is, and carries it off in spite\nof him.\n\nHow common it is to see a woman entirely wrapped up, with a\nhandkerchief held to her nose,--the whole body as tense as it can\nbe,--wondering \"Why does it take so long to get rid of this cold?\"\nTo get free from a severe cold there should be open and clear\ncirculation throughout the whole body. The more the circulation is\nimpeded, the longer the cold will last. To begin with, the cold\nitself impedes the circulation; and if, in addition, we offer\nresistance to the very idea of having a cold, we tighten our nerves\nand our bodies and thereby impede our circulation still further. It\nis curious that the more we resist a cold the more we hold on to it,\nbut it is a very evident fact; and so is its logical corollary, that\nthe less we resist it the sooner it leaves us.\n\nIt would seem absurd to people who do not understand, to say:--\n\n\"I have caught cold, I must relax and let it go through me.\"\n\nBut the literal truth is that when we relax, we open the channels of\ncirculation in our bodies, and so allow the cold to be carried off.\nIn addition to the relaxing, long, quiet breaths help the\ncirculation still more, and so help the cold to go off sooner.\n\nIn the same way people resist pain and hold on to it; when they are\nattacked with severe pain, they at once devote their entire\nattention to the sensation of pain, instead of devoting it to the\nbest means of getting relief. They double themselves up tight, and\nhold on to the place that hurts. Then all the nervous force tends\ntoward the sore place and the tension retards the circulation and\nmakes it difficult for nature to cure the pain, as she would\nspontaneously if she were only allowed to have her own way.\n\nI once knew a little girl who, whenever she hit one elbow, would at\nonce deliberately rub the other. She said that she had discovered\nthat it took her mind away from the elbow that hurt, and so stopped\nits hurting sooner. The use of a counterirritant is not uncommon\nwith good physicians, but the counter-irritant only does what is\nmuch more effectually accomplished when the patient uses his will\nand intelligence to remove the original irritant by ceasing to\nresist it.\n\nA man who was troubled with spasmodic contraction of the throat once\nwent to a doctor in alarm and distress. The doctor told him that, in\nany case, nothing worse than fainting could happen to him, and that,\nif he fainted away, his throat would be relieved, because the\nfainting would relax the muscles of the throat, and the only trouble\nwith it was contraction. Singularly, it did not seem to occur to the\ndoctor that the man might be taught to relax his throat by the use\nof his own will, instead of having to faint away in order that\nnature might do it for him. Nature would be just as ready to help us\nif we were intelligent, as when she has to knock us down, in order\nthat she may do for us what we do not know enough to do for\nourselves.\n\nThere is no illness that could not be much helped by quiet relaxing\non the part of the patient, so as to allow nature and remedial\nagencies to do their work more easily.\n\nThat which keeps relief away in the case of the cold, of pain, and\nof many illnesses, is the contraction of the nerves and muscles of\nthe body, which impedes the curative power of its healing forces.\nThe contraction of the nerves and muscles of the body is caused by\nresistance in the mind, and resistance in the mind is unwillingness:\nunwillingness to endure the distress of the cold, the pain, or the\nillness, whatever it may be; and the more unwilling we are to suffer\nfrom illness, the more we are hindering nature from bringing about a\ncure.\n\nOne of the greatest difficulties in life is illness when the hands\nare full of work, and of business requiring attention. In many eases\nthe strain and anxiety, which causes resistance to the illness, is\neven more severe, and makes more trouble than the illness itself.\n\nSuppose, for instance, that a man is taken down with the measles,\nwhen he feels that he ought to be at his office, and that his\nabsence may result in serious loss to himself and others. If he\nbegins by letting go, in his body and in his mind, and realizing\nthat the illness is beyond his own power, it will soon occur to him\nthat he might as well turn his illness to account by getting a good\nrest out of it. In this frame of mind his chances of early recovery\nwill be increased, and he may even get up from his illness with so\nmuch new life and with his mind so much refreshed as to make up, in\npart, for his temporary absence from business. But, on the other\nhand, if he resists, worries, complains and gets irritable, he\nirritates his nervous system and, by so doing is likely to bring on\nany one of the disagreeable troubles that are known to follow\nmeasles; and thus he may keep himself housed for weeks, perhaps\nmonths, instead of days.\n\nAnother advantage in dropping all resistance to illness, is that the\nrelaxation encourages a restful attitude of mind, which enables us\nto take the right amount of time for recovery, and so prevents\neither a possible relapse, or our feeling only half well for a long\ntime, when we might have felt wholly well from the time we first\nbegan to take up our life again. Indeed the advantages of\nnonresistance in such cases are innumerable, and there are no\nadvantages whatever in resistance and unwillingness.\n\nClear as these things must be to any intelligent person whose\nattention is turned in the right direction, it seems most singular\nthat not in one case in a thousand are they deliberately practised.\nPeople seem to have lost their common sense with regard to them,\nbecause for generations the desire for having our own way has held\nus in bondage, and confused our standard of freedom; more than that,\nit has befogged our sense of natural law, and the result is that we\npainfully fight to make water run up hill when, if we were to give\none quiet look, we should see that better things could be\naccomplished, and our own sense of freedom become keener, by being\ncontent to let the water quietly run down and find its own level.\n\nIt is not normal to be ill and to be kept from our everyday use, but\nit is still less normal for a healthy, intelligent mind to keep its\nbody ill longer than is necessary by resisting the fact of illness.\nEvery disease, though it is abnormal in itself, may frequently be\nkept within bounds by a certain normal course of conduct, and, if\nour suffering from the disease itself is unavoidable, by far our\nwisest course is to stand aside, so to speak, and let it take its\nown course, using all necessary remedies and precautions in order\nthat the attack may be as mild as possible.\n\nMany readers, although they see the common sense of such\nnon-resistance, will find it difficult to practise it, because of\ntheir inheritances and personal habits.\n\nThe man who held the hot poker only needed to drop it with his\nfingers; the man who is taken ill only needs to be willing with his\nmind and to relax with his nerves in order to hasten his recovery.\n\nA very useful practice is to talk to ourselves so quietly and\nearnestly as to convince our brains of the true helpfulness of being\nwilling and of the impediment of our unwillingness. Tell the truth\nto yourself over and over, quietly and without emotion, and steadily\nand firmly contradict every temptation to think that it is\nimpossible not to resist. If men could once be convinced of the very\nreal and wonderful power they have of teaching their own brains, and\nexacting obedience from them, the resulting new life and ability for\nuse would make the world much happier and stronger.\n\nThis power of separating the clear, quiet common sense in ourselves\nfrom the turbulent, willful rebellion and resistance, and so\nquieting our selfish natures and compelling them to normal behavior,\nis truly latent in us all. It may be difficult at first to use it,\nespecially in cases of strong, perverted natures and fixed habits,\nbecause in such cases our resistances are harder and more interior,\nbut if we keep steadily on, aiming in the right direction,--if we\npersist in the practice of keeping ourselves separate from our\nunproductive turbulences, and of teaching our brains what we _know_\nto be the truth, we shall finally find ourselves walking on level\nground, instead of climbing painfully up hill. Then we shall be only\ngrateful for all the hard work which was the means of bringing us\ninto the clear air of freedom.\n\nThere could not be a better opportunity to begin our training in\nnon-resistance than that which illness affords.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nIV\n\n_Hurry, Worry, and Irritability_\n\n\n\n\n\nPROBABLY most people have had the experience of hurrying to a train\nwith the feeling that something held them back, but not many have\nobserved that their muscles, under such conditions, actually _do_\npull them back.\n\nIf any one wants to prove the correctness of this observation let\nhim watch himself, especially if it is necessary for him to go\ndownstairs to get to the station, while he is walking down the\nsteps. The drawing back or contracting of the muscles, as if they\nwere intelligently trying to prevent us from reaching the train on\ntime, is most remarkable. Of course all that impeding contraction\ncomes from resistance, and it seems at first sight very strange that\nwe should resist the accomplishment of the very thing we want to do.\nWhy should I resist the idea of catching a train, when at the same\ntime I am most anxious to do so? Why should my muscles reflect that\nresistance by contracting, so that they directly impede my progress?\nIt seems a most singular case of a house divided against itself for\nme to want to take a train, and for my own muscles, which are given\nme for my command, to refuse to take me there, so that I move toward\nthe train with an involuntary effort away from it. But when the\ntruth is recognized, all this muscular contraction is easily\nexplained. What we are resisting is not the fact of taking the\ntrain, but the possibility of losing it. That resistance reflects\nitself upon our muscles and causes them to contract. Although this\nis a practical truth, it takes us some time to realize that the fear\nof losing the train is often the only thing that prevents our\ncatching it. If we could once learn this fact thoroughly, and live\nfrom our clearer knowledge, it would be one of the greatest helps\ntoward taking all things in life quietly and without necessary\nstrain. For the fact holds good in all hurry. It is the fear of not\naccomplishing what is before us in time that holds us back from its\naccomplishment.\n\nThis is so helpful and so useful a truth that I feel it necessary to\nrepeat it in many ways. Fear brings resistance, resistance impedes\nour progress. Our faculties are paralyzed by lack of confidence, and\nconfidence is the result of a true consciousness of our powers when\nin harmony with law. Often the fear of not accomplishing what is\nbefore us is the _only_ thing that stands in our way.\n\nIf we put all hurry, whether it be an immediate hurry to catch a\ntrain, or the hurry of years toward the accomplishment of the main\nobjects of our lives,--if we put it all under the clear light of\nthis truth, it will eventually relieve us of a strain which is\nrobbing our vitality to no end.\n\nFirst, the times that we _must_ hurry should be minimized. In nine\ncases out of ten the necessity for hurry comes only from our own\nattitude of mind, and from no real need whatever. In the tenth case\nwe must learn to hurry with our muscles, and not with our nerves,\nor, I might better say, we must hurry without excitement. To hurry\nquietly is to most people an unknown thing, but when hurry is a\nnecessity, the process of successive effort in it should be pleasant\nand refreshing.\n\nIf in the act of needful hurry we are constantly teaching ourselves\nto stop resistance by saying over and over, through whatever we may\nbe doing, \"I am perfectly willing to lose that train, I am willing\nto lose it, I am willing to lose it,\" that will help to remove the\nresistance, and so help us to learn how to make haste quietly.\n\nBut the reader will say, \"How can I make myself willing when I am\nnot willing?\"\n\nThe answer is that if you know that your unwillingness to lose the\ntrain is preventing you from catching it, you certainly will see the\nefficacy of being willing, and you will do all in your power toward\nyielding to common sense. Unwillingness is resistance,--resistance\nin the mind contracts the muscles, and such contraction prevents our\nusing the muscles freely and easily. Therefore let us be willing.\n\nOf course there, is a lazy, selfish indifference to catching a\ntrain, or accomplishing anything else, which leaves the tendency to\nhurry out of some temperaments altogether, but with that kind of a\nperson we are not dealing now. And such indifference is the absolute\nopposite of the wholesome indifference in which there is no touch of\nlaziness or selfishness.\n\nIf we want to avoid hurry we must get the habit of hurry out of our\nbrains, and cut ourselves off, patiently and kindly, from the\natmosphere of hurry about us. The habit gets so strong a hold of the\nnerves, and is impressed upon them so forcibly as a steady tendency,\nthat it can be detected by a close observer even in a person who is\nlying on a lounge in the full belief that he is resting. It shows\nitself especially in the breathing. A wise athlete has said that our\nnormal breathing should consist of six breaths to one minute. If the\nreader will try this rate of breathing, the slowness of it will\nsurprise him. Six breaths to one minute seem to make the breathing\nunnecessarily slow, and just double that seems about the right\nnumber for ordinary people; and the habit of breathing at this\nslower rate is a great help, from a physical standpoint, toward\nerasing the tendency to hurry.\n\nOne of the most restful exercises any one can take is to lie at full\nlength on a bed or lounge and to inhale and exhale, at a perfectly\neven, slow rate, for half an hour. It makes the exercise more\nrestful if another person counts for the breathing, say, ten slowly\nand quickly to inhale, and ten to exhale, with a little pause to\ngive time for a quiet change from one breath to another.\n\nResistance, which is the mental source of hurry, is equally at the\nroot of that most harmful emotion--the habit of worrying. And the\nsame truths which must be learned and practised to free ourselves of\nthe one habit are applicable to the other.\n\nTake the simple example of a child who worries over his lessons.\nChildren illustrate the principle especially well, because they are\nso responsive that, if you meet them quietly with the truth in\ndifficulties of this kind they recognize its value and apply it very\nquickly, and it takes them, comparatively, a very little time to get\nfree.\n\nIf you think of telling a child that the moment he finds himself\nworrying about his lesson he should close his book and say:\n\n\"I do not care whether I get this lesson or not.\"\n\nAnd then, when he has actually persuaded himself that he does not\ncare, that he should open his book and study,--it would seem, at\nfirst sight, that he would find it difficult to understand you; but,\non the contrary, a child understands more quickly than older people,\nfor the child has not had time to establish himself so firmly in the\nevil habit.\n\nI have in mind a little girl in whom the habit had begun of worrying\nlest she should fail in her lessons, especially in her Latin. Her\nmother sent her to be taught how not to worry. The teacher, after\ngiving her some idea of the common sense of not worrying, taught her\nquieting exercises which she practised every day; and when one day,\nin the midst of one of her lessons, Margaret seemed very quiet and\nrestful, the teacher asked:--\n\n\"Margaret, could you worry about your Latin now if you tried?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Margaret, \"I am afraid I could.\"\n\nNothing more was said, but she went on with her lessons, and several\ndays after, during the same restful quiet time, the teacher ventured\nagain.\n\n\"Now, Margaret, could you worry about your Latin if you tried?\"\n\nThen came the emphatic answer, _\"No, I could not.\"_\n\nAfter that the little girl would say:\n\n\"With the part of me that worries, I do not care whether I get my\nLatin or not; with the part of me that does not worry, I want to get\nmy Latin very much; therefore I will stay in the part of me that\ndoes not worry, and get my Latin.\"\n\nA childish argument, and one that may be entirely incomprehensible\nto many minds, but to those who do comprehend, it represents a very\nreal and practical help.\n\nIt is, in most cases, a grave mistake to, reason with a worry. We\nmust first drop the worry, and then do our reasoning. If to drop the\nworry seems impossible, we can separate ourselves from it enough to\nprevent it from interfering with our reasoning, very much as if it\nwere neuralgia. There is never any real reason for a worry, because,\nas we all know, worry never helps us to gain, and often is the cause\nof our losing, the things which we so much desire.\n\nSometimes we worry because we are tired, and in that case, if we can\nrecognize the real cause, we should use our wills to withdraw our\nattention from the object of worry, and to get all possible rest at\nonce, in the confident belief that rest will make things clear, or\nat least more clear than they were when we were tired. It would be\nhard to compute the harm that has been done by kindly disposed\npeople in reasoning with the worry of a friend, when the anxiety is\nincreased by fatigue or illness. To reason with one who is tired or\nill and worried, only increases the mental strain, and every effort\nthat is made to reason him out of it aggravates the strain; until,\nfinally, the poor brain, through kindly meant effort, has been\nworked into an extreme state of irritation or even inflammation. For\nthe same reason, a worried mind should not be laughed at. Worries\nthat are aroused by fatigue or illness are often most absurd, but\nthey are not absurd to the mind that is suffering from them, and to\nmake fun of them only brings more pain, and more worry. Gentle,\nloving attention, with kindly, truthful answers, will always help.\nBy such attention we are really giving no importance to the worry,\nbut only to our friend, with the hope of soothing and quieting him\nout of his worries, and when he is rested he may see the truth for\nhimself.\n\nWe should deal with ourselves, in such cases, as gently as we would\nwith a friend, excepting that we can tell the truth to ourselves\nmore plainly than we can to most friends.\n\nWorrying is resistance, resistance is unwillingness. Unwillingness\ninterferes with whatever we may want to accomplish. To be willing\nthat this, that, or the other should happen seems most difficult,\nwhen to our minds, this, that, or the other would bring disaster.\nAnd yet if we can once see clearly that worrying resistance tends\ntoward disaster rather than away from it, or, at the very least,\ntakes away our strength and endurance, it is only a matter of time\nbefore we become able to drop our resistance altogether. But it is a\nmatter of time; and, when once we are faced toward freedom, we must\nbe patient and steady, and not expect to gain very rapidly. Theirs\nis indeed a hard lot who have acquired this habit of worry, and\npersist in doing nothing to gain their freedom.\n\n\"Now I have got something to worry about for the rest of my life,\"\nremarked a poor woman once. Her face was set toward worrying;\nnothing but her own will could have turned it the other way, and yet\nshe deliberately chose not to use it, and so she was fixed and\nsettled in prison for the rest of her life.\n\nTo worry is wicked; it is wickedness of a kind that people often do\nnot recognize as such, and they are not fully responsible until they\ndo; but to prove it to be wicked is an easy matter, when once we are\nfaced toward freedom; and, to get over it, as I have said, is a\nmatter of steady, persistent patience.\n\nAs for irritability, that is also resistance; but there are two\nkinds of irritability,--physical and moral.\n\nThere is an irritability that comes when we are hungry, if we have\neaten something that disagrees with us, if we are cold or tired or\nuncomfortable from some other physical cause. When we feel that kind\nof irritability we should ignore it, as we would ignore a little\nsnapping dog across the street, while at the same time removing its\ncause as quickly as we can. There is nothing that delights the devil\nmore than to scratch a man with the irritability of hunger, and have\nhim respond to it at once by being ugly and rude to a friend; for\nthen the irritation immediately becomes moral, and every bit of\nselfishness rushes up to join it, and to arouse whatever there may\nbe of evil in the man. It is simple to recognize this merely\nphysical form of irritability, and we should no more allow ourselves\nto speak, or act, or even _think_ from it, than we should allow\nourselves to walk directly into foul air, when the good fresh air is\nclose to us on the other side.\n\nBut moral irritability is more serious; that comes from the soul,\nand is the result of our wanting our own way. The immediate cause\nmay be some physical disturbance, such as noise, or it may be\naroused by other petty annoyances, like that of being obliged to\nwait for some one who is unpunctual, or by disagreement in an\nargument. There are very many causes for irritability, and we each\nhave our own individual sensitiveness or antipathy, but, whatever\nthe secondary cause, the primary cause is always the\nsame,--resistance or unwillingness to accept our circumstances.\n\nIf we are fully willing to be disturbed, we cease to be troubled by\nthe disturbance; if we are willing to wait, we are not annoyed by\nbeing kept waiting, and we are in a better, more quiet humor to help\nour friend to the habit of promptness, if we are willing that\nanother should differ from us in opinion, we can see more clearly\neither to convince our friend, if he is wrong,--or to admit that he\nis right, and that we are wrong. The essential condition of good\nargument is freedom from personal feeling, with the desire only for\nthe truth,--whether it comes from one party or the other.\n\nHurry, worry, and irritability all come from selfish resistance to\nthe facts of life, and the only permanent cure for the waste of\nforce and the exhausting distress which they entail, is a\nwillingness to accept those facts, whatever they may be, in a spirit\nof cheerful and reverent obedience to law.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nV\n\n_Nervous Fears_\n\n\n\n\n\nTO argue with nervous anxiety, either in ourselves or in others, is\nnever helpful. Indeed it is never helpful to argue with \"nerves\" at\nall. Arguing with nervous excitement of any kind is like rubbing a\nsore. It only irritates it. It does not take long to argue excited\nor tired nerves into inflammation, but it is a long and difficult\nprocess to allay the inflammation when it has once been aroused. It\nis a sad fact that many people have been argued into long nervous\nillnesses by would-be kind friends whose only intention was to argue\nthem out of illness. Even the kindest and most disinterested friends\nare apt to lose patience when they argue, and that, to the tired\nbrain which they are trying to relieve, is a greater irritant than\nthey realize. The radical cure for nervous fears is to drop\nresistance to painful circumstances or conditions. Resistance is\nunwillingness to endure, and to drop the resistance is to be\nstrongly willing. This vigorous \"willingness\" is so absolutely\ncertain in its happy effect, and is so impossible that it should\nfail, that the resistant impulses seem to oppose themselves to it\nwith extreme energy. It is as if the resistances were conscious\nimps, and as if their certainty of defeat--in the case of their\nvictim's entire \"willingness \"--roused them to do their worst, and\nto hold on to their only possible means of power with all the more\ndetermination. Indeed, when a man is working through a hard state,\nin gaining his freedom from nervous fears, these imps seem to hold\ncouncils of war, and to devise new plans of attack in order to take\nhim by surprise and overwhelm him in an emergency. But every sharp\nattack, if met with quiet \"willingness,\" brings a defeat for the\nassailants, until finally the resistant imps are conquered and\ndisappear. Occasionally a stray imp will return, and try to arouse\nresistance on what he feels is old familiar ground, but he is\nquickly driven off, and the experience only makes a man more quietly\nvigilant and more persistently \"willing.\"\n\nPerhaps one of the most prevalent and one of the hardest fears to\nmeet, is that of insanity,--especially when it is known to be a\nprobable or possible inheritance. When such fear is oppressing a\nman,--to tell him that he not only can get free from the fear, but\nfree from any possibility of insanity, through a perfect willingness\nto be insane, must seem to him at first a monstrous mockery; and, if\nyou cannot persuade him of the truth, but find that you are only\nfrightening him more, there is nothing to do then but to be willing\nthat he should not be persuaded, and to wait for a better\nopportunity. You can show him that no such inheritance can become an\nactuality, unless we permit it, and that the very knowledge of an\nhereditary tendency, when wholesomely used, makes it possible for us\nto take every precaution and to use every true safeguard against it.\nThe presence of danger is a source of strength to the brave; and the\nsource of abiding courage is not in the nerves, but in the spirit\nand the will behind them. It is the clear statement of this fact\nthat will persuade him The fact may have to be stated many times,\nbut it should never be argued. And the more quietly and gently and\nearnestly it is stated, the sooner it will convince, for it is the\ntruth that makes us free.\n\nFear keeps the brain in a state of excitement. Even when it is not\nconsciously felt, it is felt sub-consciously, and we ought to be\nglad to have it aroused, in order that we may see it and free\nourselves, not only from the particular fear for the time being, but\nfrom the subconscious impression of fear in general.\n\nIs seems curious to speak of grappling with the fear of insanity,\nand conquering it by being perfectly willing to be insane, but it is\nno more curious than the relation of the centrifugal and the\ncentripetal forces to each other. We need our utmost power of\nconcentration to enable us to yield truly, and to be fully willing\nto submit to whatever the law of our being may require. Fear\ncontracts the brain and the nerves, and interrupts the circulation,\nand want of free circulation is a breeder of disease. Dropping\nresistance relaxes the tension of the brain and nerves, and opens\nthe channels for free circulation, and free circulation helps to\ncarry off the tendency to disease. If a man is wholesomely willing\nto be insane, should such an affliction overtake him, he has dropped\nall resistance to the idea of insanity, and thus also to all the\nmental and physical contractions that would foster insanity. He has\ndropped a strain which was draining his brain of its proper\nstrength, and the result is new vigor to mind and body. To drop an\ninherited strain produces a great and wonderful change, and all we\nneed to bring it about is to thoroughly understand how possible and\nhow beneficial it is. If we once realize the benefit of dropping the\nstrain, our will is there to accomplish the rest, as surely as it is\nthere to take our hand out of the fire when it burns.\n\nThen there is the fear of contagion. Some people are haunted with\nthe fear of catching disease, and the contraction which such\nresistance brings induces a physical state most favorable to\ncontagion. There was once a little child whose parents were so full\nof anxious fears that they attempted to protect him from disease in\nways that were extreme and ridiculous. All his toys were boiled,\neverything he ate or drank was sterilized, and many other\nprecautions were taken,--but along with all the precautions, the\nparents were in constant fear; and it is not unreasonable to feel\nthat the reflection upon the child of the chronic resistance to\npossible danger with which he was surrounded, had something to do\nwith the fact that the dreaded disease was finally caught, and that,\nmoreover, the child did not recover. If reasonably healthy\nconditions had been insisted upon, and the parents had felt a\nwholesome trust in the general order of things, it would have been\nlikely to make the child more vigorous, and would have tended to\nincrease his capacity for throwing off contagion.\n\nChildren are very sensitive, and it is not unusual to see a child\ncrying because its mother is out of humor, even though she may not\nhave spoken a cross word. It is not unusual to see a child contract\nits little brain and body in response to the fears and contractions\nof its parents, and such contraction keeps the child in a state in\nwhich it may be more difficult to throw off disease.\n\nIf you hold your fist as tight as you can hold it for fifteen\nminutes, the fatigue you will feel when it relaxes is a clear proof\nof the energy you have been wasting. The waste of nervous energy\nwould be much increased if the fist were held tightly for hours; and\nif the waste is so great in the useless tightening of a fist, it is\nstill greater in the extended and continuous contraction of brain\nand nerves in useless fears; and the energy saved through dropping\nthe fears and their accompanying tension can bring in the same\nproportion a vigor unknown before, and at the same time afford\nprotection against the very things we feared.\n\nThe fear of taking cold is so strong in many people that a draught\nof fresh air becomes a bugaboo to their contracted, sensitive\nnerves. Draughts are imagined as existing everywhere, and the\ncontraction which immediately follows the sensation of a draught is\nthe best means of preparing to catch a cold.\n\nFear of accident keeps one in a constant state of unnecessary\nterror. To be willing that an accident should happen does not make\nit more likely to happen, but it prevents our wasting energy by\nresistance, and keeps us quiet and free, so that if an emergency of\nany kind arises, we are prepared to act promptly and calmly for the\nbest. If the amount of human energy wasted in the strain of nervous\nfear could be measured in pounds of pressure, the figures would be\nastonishing. Many people who have the habit of nervous fear in one\nform or another do not throw it off merely because they do not know\nhow. There are big and little nervous fears, and each and all can be\nmet and conquered,--thus bringing a freedom of life which cannot\neven be imagined by those carrying the burden of fear, more or less,\nthroughout their lives.\n\nThe fear of what people will think of us is a very common cause of\nslavery, and the nervous anxiety as to whether we do or do not\nplease is a strain which wastes the energy of the greater part of\nmankind. It seems curious to measure the force wasted in\nsensitiveness to public opinion as you would measure the waste of\npower in an engine, and yet it is a wholesome and impersonal way to\nthink of it,--until we find a better way. It relieves us of the\nmorbid element in the sensitiveness to say, \"I cannot mind what\nso-and-so thinks of me, for I have not the nervous energy to spare.\"\nIt relieves us still more of the tendency to morbid feeling, if we\nare wholesomely interested in what others think of us, in order to\nprofit by it, and do better. There is nothing morbid or nervous\nabout our sensitiveness to opinion, when it is derived from a love\nof criticism for the sake of its usefulness. Such a rightful and\nwise regard for the opinion of others results in a saving of energy,\nfor on the one hand, it saves us from the mistakes of false and\nshallow independence, and, on the other, from the wasteful strain of\nservile fear.\n\nThe little nervous fears are countless. The fear of not being exact.\nThe fear of not having turned off the gas entirely. The fear of not\nhaving done a little daily duty which we find again and again we\nhave done. These fears are often increased, and sometimes are\naroused, by our being tired, and it is well to realize that, and to\nattend at once carefully to whatever our particular duty may be, and\nthen, when the fear of not having done it attacks us, we should\nthink of it as if it were a physical pain, and turn our attention\nquietly to something else. In this way such little nagging fears are\nrelieved; whereas, if we allowed ourselves to be driven by them, we\nmight bring on nervous states that would take weeks or months to\novercome. These nervous fears attack us again and again in subtle\nways, if we allow ourselves to be influenced by them. They are all\nforms of unwillingness or resistance, and may all be removed by\ndropping the resistance and yielding,--not to the fear, but to a\nwillingness that the fear should be there.\n\nOne of the small fears that often makes life seem unbearable is the\nfear of a dentist. A woman who had suffered from this fear for a\nlifetime, and who had been learning to drop resistances in other\nways, was once brought face to face with the necessity for going to\nthe dentist, and the old fear was at once aroused,--something like\nthe feeling one might have in preparing for the guillotine,--and\nshe suffered from it a day or two before she remembered her new\nprinciples. Then, when the new ideas came back to her mind, she at\nonce applied them and said, \"Yes, I _am afraid,_ I _am awfully\nafraid._ I am _perfectly willing to be afraid,\" _and the ease with\nwhich the fear disappeared was a surprise,--even to herself.\n\nAnother woman who was suffering intensely from fear as to the\nafter-effects of an operation, had begun to tremble with great\nnervous intensity. The trembling itself frightened her, and when a\nfriend told her quietly to be willing to tremble, her quick,\nintelligence responded at once. \"Yes,\" she said, \"I will, I will\nmake myself tremble,\" and, by not only being willing to tremble, but\nby making herself tremble, she got quiet mental relief in a very\nshort time, and the trembling disappeared.\n\nThe fear of death is, with its derivatives, of course, the greatest\nof all; and to remove our resistance to the idea of death, by being\nperfectly willingly to die is to remove the foundation of all the\nphysical cowardice in life, and to open the way for the growth of a\ncourage which is strength and freedom itself. He who yields gladly\nto the ordinary facts of life, will also yield gladly to the supreme\nfact of physical death, for a brave and happy willingness is the\ncharacteristic habit of his heart:--\n\nUnder the wide and starry sky,\nDig the grave and let me lie.\nGlad did I live and gladly die,\nAnd I laid me down with a will.\"\n\nThere is a legend of the Arabs in which a man puts his head out of\nhis tent and says, \"I will loose my camel and commit him to God,\"\nand a neighbor who hears him says, in his turn, \"I will tie my camel\nand commit him to God.\" The true helpfulness from non-resistance\ndoes not come from neglecting to take proper precautions against the\nobjects of fear, but from yielding with entire willingness to the\nnecessary facts of life, and a sane confidence that, whatever comes,\nwe shall be provided with the means of meeting it. This confidence\nis, in itself, one of the greatest sources of intelligent endurance.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nVI\n\n_Self-Consciousness_\n\n\n\n\n\nSELF-CONSCIOUSNESS may be truly defined as a person's inability to\nget out of his own way. There are, however, some people who are so\nentirely and absolutely self-conscious that everything they do, even\nthough it may appear spontaneous and ingenuous, is observed and\nadmired and approved of by themselves,--indeed they are supported\nand sustained by their self-consciousness. They are so completely in\nbondage to themselves that they have no glimpse of the possibility\nof freedom, and therefore this bondage is pleasant to them.\n\nWith these people we have, at present, nothing to do; it is only\nthose who have begun to realize their bondage as such, or who suffer\nfrom it, that can take any steps toward freedom. The self-satisfied\nslaves must stay in prison until they see where they are--and it is\ncurious and sad to see them rejoicing in bondage and miscalling it\nfreedom. It makes one long to see them struck by an emergency,\nbringing a flash of inner light which is often the beginning of an\nentire change of state. Sometimes the enlightenment comes through\none kind of circumstance, sometimes through another; but, if the\nglimpse of clearer sight it brings is taken advantage of, it will be\nfollowed by a time of groping in the dark, and always by more or\nless suffering. When, however, we know that we are in the dark,\nthere is hope of our coming to the light; and suffering is nothing\nwhatever after it is over and has brought its good results.\n\nIf we were to take away the prop of self-approval entirely and\nimmediately from any one of the habitually self-satisfied people,\nthe probable result would be an entire nervous collapse, or even a\npainful form of insanity; and, in all changes of state from bondage\nto freedom, the process is and must be exceedingly slow. No one ever\nstrengthened his character with a wrench of impatience, although we\nare often given the opportunity for a firm and immediate use of the\nwill which leaves lasting strength behind it. For the main growth of\nour lives, however, we must be steadily patient, content to aim in\nthe true direction day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute. If we\nfall, we must pick ourselves up and go right on,--not stop to be\ndiscouraged for one instant after we have recognized our state as a\ntemptation. Whatever the stone may be that we have tripped over, we\nhave learned that it is there, and, while we may trip over the same\nstone many times, if we learn our lesson each time, it decreases the\npossible number of stumbles, and smooths our paths more than we\nknow.\n\nThere is no exception to the necessity for this patient, steady\nplodding in the work required to gain our freedom from\nself-consciousness. It is when we are aware of our bondage that our\nopportunity to gain our freedom from it really begins. This bondage\nbrings very real suffering, and we may often, without exaggeration,\ncall it torture. It is sometimes even extreme torture, but may have\nto be endured for a lifetime unless the sufferer has the clear light\nby which to find his freedom; and, unfortunately, many who might\nhave the light will not use it because they are unwilling to\nrecognize the selfishness that is at the root of their trouble. Some\nwomen like to call it \"shyness,\" because the name sounds well, and\nseems to exonerate them from any responsibility with regard to their\ndefect. Men will rarely speak of their self-consciousness, but, when\nthey do, they are apt to speak of it with more or less indignation\nand self-pity, as if they were in the clutches of something\nextraneous to themselves, and over which they can never gain\ncontrol. If, when a man is complaining of self-consciousness and of\nits interference with his work in life, you tell him in all\nkindness that all his suffering has its root in downright\nselfishness, he will, in most cases, appear not to hear, or he will\nbeg the question, and, having avoided acknowledging the truth, will\ncontinue to complain and ask for help, and perhaps wonder whether\nhypnotism may not help him, or some other form of \"cure.\" Anything\nrather than look the truth in the face and do the work in himself\nwhich, is the only possible road to lasting, freedom. Self-pity, and\nwhat may be called spiritual laziness, is at the root of most of the\nself-torment in the world.\n\nHow ridiculous it would seem if a man tried to produce an electric\nburner according to laws of his own devising, and then sat down and\npitied himself because the light would not burn, instead of\nsearching about until he had found the true laws of electricity\nwhose application would make the light shine successfully. How\nridiculous it would seem if a man tried to make water run up hill\nwithout providing that it should do so by reaching its own level,\nand then got indignant because he did not succeed, and wondered if\nthere were not some \"cure\" by means of which his object might be\naccomplished. And yet it is no more strange for a man to disobey\nhabitually the laws of character, and then to suffer for his\ndisobedience, and wonder why he suffers.\n\nThere is an external necessity for obeying social laws which must be\nrespected, or society would go to pieces; and there is just as great\nan internal necessity for obeying spiritual laws to gain our proper\nself-control and power for use; but we do not recognize that\nnecessity because, while disregarding the laws of character, we can\nstill live without the appearance of doing harm to the community.\nSocial laws can be respected in the letter but not in the spirit,\nwhereas spiritual laws must be accepted by the individual heart and\npracticed by the individual will in order to produce any useful\nresult. Each one of us must do the required work in himself. There\nis no \"cure,\" no help from outside which can bring one to a lasting\nfreedom.\n\nIf self-consciousness makes us blush, the more we are troubled the\nmore it increases, until the blushing may become so unbearable that\nwe are tempted to keep away from people altogether; and thus life,\nso far as human fellowship goes, would become more and more limited.\nBut, when such a limitation is allowed to remain within us, and we\nmake no effort of our own to find its root and to exterminate it, it\nwarps us through and through. If self-consciousness excites us to\ntalk, and we talk on and on to no end, simply allowing the selfish\nsuffering to goad us, the habit weakens our brains so that in time\nthey lose the power of strong consecutive thought and helpful\nbrevity.\n\nIf self-consciousness causes us to wriggle, and strain, and stammer,\nand we do not recognize the root of the trouble and shun it, and\nlearn to yield and quietly relax our nerves and muscles, of course\nthe strain becomes worse. Then, rather than suffer from it any\nlonger, we keep away from people, just as the blushing man is\ntempted to do. In that case, the strain is still in us, in the back\nof our brains, so to speak--because we have not faced and overcome\nit.\n\nStage fright is an intense form of self-consciousness, but the man\nwho is incapable of stage fright lacks the sensitive temperament\nrequired to achieve great power as an artist. The man who overcomes\nstage fright by getting out of his own way, and by letting the\ncharacter he is playing, or the music he is interpreting, work\nthrough him as a clear, unselfish channel receives new power for his\nwork in the proportion that he shuns his own interfering\nselfishness.\n\nBut it is with the self-consciousness of everyday life that we have\nespecially to do now, and with the practical wisdom necessary to\ngain freedom from all its various discomforts; and, even more than\nthat, to gain the new power for useful service which comes from the\npossession of that freedom.\n\nThe remedy is to be found in obedience to the law of unselfishness,\ncarried out into the field of nervous suffering.\n\nWhatever one may think, however one may try to dodge the truth by\nthis excuse or that, the conditions to be fulfilled in order to gain\nfreedom from self-consciousness are _absolutely within the\nindividual who suffers._ When we once understand this, and are faced\ntoward the truth, we are sure to find our way out, with more or less\nrapidity, according to the strength with which we use our wills in\ntrue obedience.\n\nFirst, we must be willing to accept the effects of\nself-consciousness. The more we resist these effects the more they\nforce themselves upon us, and the more we suffer from them. We must\nbe willing to blush, be willing to realize that we have talked too\nmuch, and perhaps made ourselves ridiculous. We must be willing to\nfeel the discomforts of self-consciousness in whatever form they may\nappear. Then--the central point of all--we must know and\nunderstand, and not dodge in the very least the truth that the _root\nof self-consciousness is selfishly caring what other people think of\nus,--and wanting to appear well before them._\n\nMany readers of this article who suffer from self-consciousness will\nwant to deny this; others will acknowledge it, but will declare\ntheir inability to live according to the truth; some,--perhaps more\nthan a few,--will recognize the truth and set to work with a will to\nobey it, and how happily we may look forward to the freedom which\nwill eventually be theirs!\n\nA wise man has said that when people do not think well of us, the\nfirst thing to do is to look and see whether they are right. In most\ncases, even though they way have unkind feelings mingled with their\ncriticism, there is an element of truth in it from which we may\nprofit. In such cases we are much indebted to our critics, for, by\ntaking their suggestions, we are helped toward strength of character\nand power for use. If there is no truth in the criticism, we need\nnot think of it at all, but live steadily on, knowing that the truth\nwill take care of itself.\n\nWe should be willing that any one should think _anything_ of us, so\nlong as we have the strength of a good conscience. We should be\nwilling to appear in any light if that appearance will enhance our\nuse, or is a necessity of growth. If an awkward appearance is\nnecessary in the process of our journey toward freedom, we must not\nresist the fact of its existence, and should only dwell on it long\nenough to shun its cause in so far as we can, and gain the good\nresult of the greater freedom which will follow.\n\nIt is because the suffering from self-consciousness is often so\nintense that freedom from it brings, by contrast, so happy and so\nstrong a sense of power.\n\nThere is a school for the treatment of stammerers in this country in\nwhich the pupils are initiated into the process of cure by being\nrequired to keep silence for a week. This would be a most helpful\nbeginning in a training to overcome self-consciousness. We should\nrecognize first that we must be willing to endure the effects of\nself-consciousness without resistance. Secondly, we should admit\nthat the root of self-consciousness lies entirely in a selfish\ndesire to appear well before others. If, while recognizing these two\nessential truths and confirming them until they are thoroughly\nimplanted in our brains, we should quietly persist in going among\npeople, the practice of silent attention to others would be of the\ngreatest value in gaining real freedom. The practice of attentive\nand sympathetic silence might well be followed by people in general\nfar more than it is. The protection of a loving, unselfish silence\nis very great: a silence which is the result of shunning all\nselfish, self-assertive, vain, or affected speech; a silence which\nis never broken for the sake of \"making conversation,\" \"showing\noff,\" or covering selfish embarrassment; a silence which is full of\nsympathy and interest,--the power of such a silence cannot be\noverestimated.\n\nIf we have the evil habit of talking for the sake of winning\napproval, we should practise this silence; or if we talk for the\nsake of calling attention to ourselves, for the sake of winning\nsympathy for our selfish pains and sorrows, or for the sake of\nindulging in selfish emotions, nothing can help us more than the\nhabit of loving and attentive silence.\n\nOnly when we know how to practise this--in an impersonal, free and\nquiet spirit, one which is not due to outward repression of any\nkind--are we able to talk with quiet, loving, helpful speech. Then\nmay we tell the clean truth without giving unnecessary offence, and\nthen may we soothe and rest, as well as stimulate in, wholesome ways;\nthen, also, will our minds open to receive the good that may come to\nus through the words and actions of others.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nVII\n\n_The Circumstances of Life_\n\n\n\n\n\nIT is not the circumstances of life that trouble or weigh upon us,\nit is the way we take them. If a man is playing a difficult game of\nchess, the more intricate the moves the more thoughtfully he looks\nover his own and his opponent's men, and the more fully he is\naroused to make the right move toward a checkmate. If, when the game\nbecame difficult, the player stopped to be depressed and\ndisheartened, his opponent would probably always checkmate him;\nwhereas, in most cases, the more difficult the game the more\nthoroughly the players are aroused to do their best, and a difficult\ngame is invariably a good one,--the winner and the loser both feel\nit to be so,--even though the loser may regret his loss. But--the\nreader will say--a game of chess is a game only,--neither one's\nbread and butter nor one's life depend upon winning or losing it.\nIf, however, we need to be cool and quiet and trustful for a game,\nwhich is merely an amusement, and if we play the game better for\nbeing cool and quiet and trustful, why is not a quiet steadiness in\nwrestling with the circumstances of life itself just as necessary,\nnot only that we may meet the particular problem of the moment\ntruly, but that we may gain all the experience which may be helpful\nin meeting other difficult circumstances as they present themselves.\n\nWe must first convince ourselves thoroughly of the truth that\nCIRCUMSTANCES, HOWEVER DIFFICULT, ARE ALWAYS--WITHOUT EXCEPTION,\nOPPORTUNITIES, AND NOT LIMITATIONS.\n\nThey are not by any means opportunities for taking us in the\ndirection that our own selfishness would have us go; they are\nopportunities which are meant to guide us in the direction we most\nneed to follow,--in the ways that will lead us to the greatest\nstrength in the end.\n\nThe most unbelieving of us will admit that \"there is a destiny which\nshapes our ends, rough hew them as we may,\" and it is in the stupid\nresistance to having our ends shaped for us that we stop and groan\nat what we call the limitations of circumstances.\n\nIf we were quickly alert to see where circumstances had placed the\ngate of opportunity, and then steadily persisted in going through\nit, it would save the loss of energy and happiness which results\nfrom obstinately beating our heads against a stone wall where there\nis no gate, and where there never can be a gate.\n\nProbably there is hardly a reader who will not recall a number of\ncases in which circumstances appear to have been only limitations to\nhim or to his friends; but if he will try with a willing mind to\nfind the gate of opportunity which was not used, he will be\nsurprised to learn that it was wide open all the time, and might\nhave led him into a new and better country.\n\nThe other day a little urchin playing in the street got in the way\nof a horse, and just saved himself from being run over by a quick\njump; he threw up his arms and in a most cheerful voice called out,\n\"It's all right, only different!\" If the horse had run over him, he\nmight have said the same thing and found his opportunity to more\nthat was good and useful in life through steady patience on his bed.\nThe trouble is that we are not willing to call it _\"all right\"_\nunless it is _the same,_--the same in this case meaning whatever may\nbe identical with our own personal ideas of what is \"all right.\"\nThat expressive little bit of slang is full of humor and full of\ncommon sense.\n\nIf, for instance, when we expect something and are disappointed, we\ncould at once yield out of our resistance and heartily exclaim, \"it\nis all right, only different,\" how much sooner we should discover\nthe good use in its being different, and how soon we should settle\ninto the sense of its being \"all right!\" When a circumstance that\nhas seemed to us _all wrong_ can be made, through our quiet way of\nmeeting it, to appear all right, only different, it very soon leads\nto a wholesome content in the new state of affairs or to a change of\ncircumstances to which we can more readily and happily adjust\nourselves.\n\nA strong sense of something's being \"all right\" means a strong sense\nof willingness that it should be just as it is. With that clear\nwillingness in our hearts in general, we can adjust ourselves to\nanything in particular,--even to very sudden and unexpected\nchanges. It is carrying along with us a background of powerful\nnon-resistance which we can bring to the front and use actively at a\nmoment's notice.\n\nIt seems odd to think of actively using non-resistance, and yet the\nexpression is not as contradictory as it would appear, for the\nstrength of will it takes to attain an habitual attitude of\nwholesome non-resistance is far beyond the strength of will required\nto resist unwholesomely. The stronger, the more fixed and immovable\nthe centre, the more free and adaptable are the circumferences of\naction; and, even though our central principle is fixed and\nimmovable, it must be elastic enough to enable us to change our\npoint of view whenever we find that by so doing we can gain a\nbroader outlook and greater power for use.\n\nTo acquire the strength of will for this habitual non-resistance is\nsometimes a matter of years of practice. We have to compel ourselves\nto be \"willing,\" over and over again, at each new opportunity;\nsometimes the opportunities seem to throng us; and this, truly\nconsidered, is only a cause for gratitude.\n\nIn life the truest winning often comes first under the guise of\nfailure, and it is willingness to accept failure, and intelligence\nin understanding its causes, and using the acquired knowledge as a\nmeans to a higher end, that ultimately brings true success. If we\nchoose, a failure can always be used as a means to an end rather\nthan as a result in itself.\n\nHow often do we hear the complaint, \"I could do so well if it were\nnot for my circumstances.\" How many people are held down for a\nlifetime by the habitual belief in circumstances as limitations, and\nby ignoring the opportunities which they afford.\n\n\"So long as I must live with these people I can never amount to\nanything.\" If this complaint could be changed to the resolve: \"I\nwill live with these people until I have so adjusted myself to them\nas to be contented,\" a source of weakness would be changed into a\nsource of strength. The quiet activity of mind required to adjust\nourselves to difficult surroundings gives a zest and interest to\nlife which we can find in no other way, and adds a certain strength\nto the character which cannot be found elsewhere. It is interesting\nto observe, too, how often it happens that, when we have adjusted\nourselves to difficult circumstances, we are removed to other\ncircumstances which are more in sympathy with our own, thoughts and\nways: and sometimes to circumstances which are more difficult still,\nand require all the strength and wisdom which our previous\ndiscipline has taught us.\n\nIf we are alive to our own true freedom, we should have an active\ninterest in the necessary warfare of life. For life is a\nwarfare--not of persons, but of principles--and every man who loves\nhis freedom loves to be in the midst of the battle. Our tendencies\nto selfish discontent are constantly warring against our love of\nusefulness and service, and he who wishes to enjoy the full\nactivity of freedom must learn to fight and to destroy the\ntendencies within himself which stand in the way of his own\nobedience to law. But he needs, for this, the truthful and open\nspirit which leads to wise self-knowledge; a quiet and a willing\nspirit, to make the necessary sacrifice of selfish pride. His quiet\nearnestness will give him the strength to carry out what his clear\nvision will reveal to him in the light of truth He will keep his\nhead lifted up above his enemies round about him, so that he may\nsteadily watch and clearly see how best to act. After periods of\nhard fighting the intervals of rest will be full of refreshment, and\nwill always bring new strength for further activity. If, in the\nbattle with difficult circumstances, we are thrown down, we must\npick ourselves up with quick decision, and not waste a moment in\ncomplaint or discouragement. We should emphasize to ourselves the\nnecessity for picking ourselves up immediately, and going directly\non, over and over again,--both for our own benefit, and the benefit\nof those whom we have the privilege of helping.\n\nIn the Japanese training of \"Jiu Jitsu,\" the idea seems to be to\ndrop all subjective resistance, and to continue to drop it, until,\nthrough the calmness and clearness of sight that comes from quiet\nnerves and a free mind, the wrestler can see where to make the fatal\nstroke. When the right time has arrived, the only effort which is\nnecessary is quick, sharp and conclusive. This wonderful principle\nis often misused for selfish ends, and in such cases it leads\neventually to bondage because, by the successful satisfaction of\nselfish motives, it strengthens the hold of our selfishness upon us;\nbut, when used in an unselfish spirit, it is an ever-increasing\nsource of strength. In the case of difficult circumstances,--if we\ncease to resist,--if we accept the facts of life,--if we are willing\nto be poor, or ill, or disappointed, or to live with people we do\nnot like,--we gain a quietness of nerve and a freedom of mind which\nclears off the mists around us, so that our eyes may see and\nrecognize the gate of opportunity,--open before us.\n\nIt is the law of concentration and relaxation. If we concentrate on\nbeing willing, on relaxing until we have dropped every bit of\nresistance to the circumstances about us, that brings us to a quiet\nand well-balanced point of view, whence we can see clearly how to\ntake firm and decided action. From such action the re-action is only\nrenewed strength,--never painful and contracting weakness. If we\ncould give up all our selfish desires and resistances,\ncircumstances, however difficult, would have no power whatever to\ntrouble us. To reach such absolute willingness is a long journey,\nbut there is a straight path leading nearer and nearer to the happy\nfreedom which is our goal.\n\nSelf-pity is one of the states that interferes most effectually with\nmaking the right use of circumstances. To pity one's self is\ndestruction to all possible freedom. If the reader finds himself in\nthe throes of this weakness and is helped through these words to\nrecognize the fact, let him hasten to shun it as he would shun\npoison, for it is progressively weakening to soul and body. It will\ntake only slight difficulties of any kind to overthrow us, if we are\novercome by this temptation.\n\nImagine a man in the planet Mars wanting to try his fortunes on\nanother planet, and an angel appearing to him with permission to\ntransfer him to the earth.\n\n\"But,\" the angel says, \"of course you can have no idea of what the\nlife is upon the new planet unless you are placed in the midst of\nvarious circumstances which are more or less common to its\ninhabitants.\"\n\n\"Certainly,\" the Martian answers, \"I recognize that, and I want to\nhave my experience on this new planet as complete as possible;\ntherefore the more characteristic and difficult my circumstances are\nthe better.\" Then imagine the interest that man would have, from the\nmoment he was placed on the earth, in working, his way through, and\nobserving his experience as he worked.\n\nHis interest would be alive vivid, and strong, from the beginning\nuntil he found himself, with earthly experience completed, ready to\nreturn to his friends in Mars. He would never lose courage or be in\nany way disheartened. The more difficult his earthly problem was,\nthe more it would arouse his interest and vigor to solve it. So many\npeople prefer a difficult problem in geometry to an easy one, then\nwhy not in life? The difference is that in mathematics the head\nalone is exercised, and in life the head and the heart are both\nbrought into play, and the first difficulty is to persuade the head\nand heart to work together. In the visitor from Mars, of course, the\nheart would be working with the head, and so the whole man would be\ncentred on getting creditably through his experience and home again.\nIf our hearts and heads were together equally concentrated on\ngetting through our experience for the sake of the greater power of\nuse it would bring,--and, if we could trustfully believe in getting\nhome again, that is, in getting established in the current of\nordinary spiritual and natural action, then life would be really\nalive for us, then we should actually get the scent of our true\nfreedom, and, having once had a taste of it, we should have a fresh\nincentive in achieving it entirely.\n\nThere is one important thing to remember in an effort to be free\nfrom the bondage of circumstances which will save us from much\nunnecessary suffering. This has to do with the painful associations\nwhich arise from circumstances which are past and over.\n\nA woman, for example, suffered for a year from nervous exhaustion in\nher head, which was brought on, among other things, by\nover-excitement in private theatricals. She apparently recovered her\nhealth, and, because she was fond of acting, her first activities\nwere turned in that direction. She accepted a part in a play; but as\nsoon as she began to study all her old head symptoms returned, and\nshe was thoroughly frightened, thinking that she might never be able\nto use her head again. Upon being convinced, however, that all her\ndiscomfort came from her own imagination, through the painful\nassociations connected with the study of her part, she returned to\nher work resolved to ignore them, and the consequence was that the\nsymptoms rapidly disappeared.\n\nNot uncommonly we hear that a person of our acquaintance cannot go\nto some particular place because of the painful events which\noccurred there. If the sufferer could only be persuaded that, when\nsuch associations are once bravely faced, it takes a very short time\nfor the painful effects to disappear entirely, much unnecessary and\nprolonged discomfort would be saved.\n\nPeople have been kept ill for weeks, months and years, through.\nholding on to the brain impression of some painful event.\n\nWhether the painful circumstances are little or great, the law of\nassociation is the same and, in any case, the brain impression can\nbe dropped entirely, although it may take time and patience to do\nit. We must often talk to our brains as if we were talking to\nanother person to eliminate the impressions from old associations.\nTell your brain in so many words, without emotion, that the place or\nthe circumstance is nothing, nothing whatever,--it is only your idea\nabout it, and the false association can be changed to a true one.\n\nSo must we yield our selfish resistances and be ready to accept\nevery opportunity for growth that circumstances offer; and, at the\nsame time, when the good result is gained, throw off the impression\nof the pain of the process entirely and forever. Thus may we both\nlive and observe for our own good and that of others; and he who is\npractising this principle in his daily life can say from his\nheart:--\"Now shall my head be lifted up above mine enemies round\nabout me.\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\nVIII\n\n_Other People_\n\n\n\n\n\nHOWEVER disagreeable other people may be,--however unjust they may\nbe, however true it may be that the wrong is all on their side and\nnot at all on ours,--whatever we may suffer at their hands,--we can\nonly remedy the difficulty by looking first solely to ourselves and\nour own conduct; and, not until we are entirely free from resentment\nor resistance of any kind, and not until we are quiet in our own\nminds with regard to those who may be oppressing or annoying us,\nshould we make any effort to set them right.\n\nThis philosophy is sound and absolutely practical,--it never fails;\nany apparent failure will be due to our own delinquency in applying\nit; and, if the reader will think of this truth carefully until he\nfeels able to accept it, he will see what true freedom there is in\nit,--although it may be a long time before he is fully able to carry\nit out.\n\nHow can I remain in any slightest bondage to another when I feel\nsure that, however wrong he may be, the true cause of my discomfort\nand oppression is in myself? I am in bondage to myself, and it is to\nmyself that I must look to gain my freedom. If a friend is rude and\nunkind to me, and I resent the rudeness and resist the unkindness,\nit is the resentment and resistance that cause me to suffer. I am\nnot suffering for my friend, I am suffering for myself; and I can\nonly gain my freedom by shunning the resentment and resistance as\nsin against all that is good and true in friendship. When I am free\nfrom these things in myself,--when, as far as I am concerned, I am\nperfectly and entirely willing that my friend should be rude or\nunjust, then only am I free from him. It is impossible that he\nshould oppress me, if I am willing that he should be unjust or\nunkind; and the freedom that comes from such strong and willing\nnon-resistance is like the fresh air upon a mountain. Such freedom\nbrings with it also a new understanding of one's friend, and a new\nability to serve him.\n\nUnless we live a life of seclusion, most of us have more than one\nfriend, or acquaintance, or enemy, with whom we are brought into\nconstant or occasional contact, and by whom we are made to suffer;\nnot to mention the frequent irritations that may come from people we\nsee only once in our lives. Imagine the joy of being free from all\nthis irritability and oppression; imagine the saving of nervous\nenergy which would accompany such freedom; imagine the possibility\nof use to others which would be its most helpful result!\n\nIf we once catch even the least glimpse of this quiet freedom, we\nshall not mind if it takes some time to accomplish so desirable a\nresult, and the process of achieving it is deeply interesting.\n\nThe difficulty at first is to believe that so far as we are\nconcerned, the cause Of the trouble is entirely within, ourselves.\nThe temptation is to think:--\n\n\"How can I help resenting behavior like that! Such selfishness and\nlack of consideration would be resented by any one.\"\n\nSo any one might resent it, but that is no reason why we should. We\nare not to make other people's standards our own unless we see that\ntheir standards are higher than ours; only then should we\nchange,--not to win the favor of the other people, but because we\nhave recognized the superior value of their standards and are glad\nto put away what is inferior for what is better. Therefore we can\nnever excuse ourselves for resentment or resistance because other\npeople resent or resist. There can be no possible excuse for\nresistance to the behavior of others, and it is safe to say that we\nmust _never pit our wills against the wills of other people._ If we\nwant to do right and the other man wants us to do wrong, we must\npass by his will, pass under it or over it, but never on any account\nresist it. There has been more loss of energy, more real harm done,\nthrough this futile engagement of two personal wills than can ever\nbe computed, and the freedom consequent upon refusing such contact\nis great in proportion. Obedience to this law of not pitting our\nwills against the wills of other people leads to new freedom in all\nsorts of ways,--in connection with little, everyday questions, as to\nwhether a thing is one color or another, as well as in the great and\nserious problems of life. If, in an argument, we feel confident that\nall we want is the truth,--that we do not care whether we or our\nopponents are in the right, as long as we find the right\nitself,--then we are free, so far as personal feeling is concerned;\nespecially if, in addition, we are perfectly willing that our\nopponents should not be convinced, even though the right should\nultimately prove to be on our side.\n\nWith regard to learning how always to look first to ourselves,--first\nwe must become conscious of our own resentment and resistance,\nthen we must acknowledge it heartily and fully, and then we must go\nto work firmly and steadily to refuse to harbor it. We must relax\nout of the tension of our resistance with both soul and body; for of\ncourse, the resistance contracts the nerves of our bodies, and, if\nwe relax from the contractions in our bodies, it helps us to gain\nfreedom from resistance in our hearts and minds. The same resistance\nto the same person or the same ideas may return, in different forms,\nmany times over; but all we have to do is to persist in dropping it\nas often as it returns, even if it be thousands of times.\n\nNo one need be afraid of losing all backbone and becoming a \"mush of\nconcession\" through the process of dropping useless resistance, for\nthe strength of will required to free ourselves from the habit of\npitting one's own will against that of another is much greater than\nthe strength we use when we indulge the habit. The two kinds of\nstrength can no more be compared than the power of natural law can\nbe compared to the lawless efforts of human waywardness. For the\nwill that is pitted against the will of another degenerates into\nobstinacy, and weakens the character; whereas the will that is used\ntruly to refuse useless resistance increases steadily in strength,\nand develops power and beauty of character. Again, the man who\ninsists upon pitting his will against that of another is constantly\nblinded as to the true qualities of his opponent. He sees neither\nhis virtues nor his vices clearly; whereas he who declines the\nmerely personal contest becomes constantly clarified in his views,\nand so helped toward a loving charity for his opponent,--whatever\nhis faults or difficulties may be,--and to an understanding and love\nof the good in him, which does not identify him with his faults.\n\nWhen we resent and resist, and are personally wilful, there is a\ngreat big beam in our eye, which we cannot see through, or under, or\nover,--but, as we gain our freedom from all such resistance, the\nbeam is removed, and we are permitted to see things as they really\nare, and with a truer sense of proportion, our power of use\nincreases.\n\nWhen a person is arguing with all the force of personal wilfulness,\nit is both pleasant and surprising to observe the effect upon him if\nhe begins to feel your perfect willingness that he should believe in\nhis own way, and your willingness to go with him, too, if his way\nshould prove to be right. His violence melts to quietness because\nyou give him nothing to resist. The same happy effect comes from\nfacing any one in anger, without resistance, but with a quiet mind\nand a loving heart. If the anger does not melt--as it often does--it\nis modified and weakened, and--as far as we are concerned--it cannot\ntouch or hurt us.\n\nWe must remember always that it is not the repression or concealment\nof resentment and resistance, and forbearing to express them, that\ncan free us from bondage to others; it is overcoming any trace of\nresentment or resistance within our own hearts and minds. If the\nresistance is in us, we are just as much in bondage as if we\nexpressed it in our words and actions. If it is in us at all, it\nmust express itself in one way or another,--either in ill-health, or\nin unhappy states of mind, or in the tension of our bodies. We must\nalso remember that, when we are on the way to freedom from such\nhabits of resistance, we may suffer from them for a long time after\nwe have ceased to act from them. When we are turning steadily away\nfrom them, the uncomfortable effects of past resistance may linger\nfor a long while before every vestige of them disappears. It is like\nthe peeling after scarlet fever,--the dead skin stays on until the\nnew, tender skin is strong underneath, and after we think we have\npeeled entirely, we discover new places with which we must be\npatient. So, with the old habits of resistance, we must, although\nturning away from them firmly, be steadily patient while waiting for\nthe pain from them to disappear. It must take time if the work is to\nbe done thoroughly,--but the freedom to be gained is well worth\nwaiting for.\n\nOne of the most prevalent forms of bondage is caring too much in the\nwrong way what people think of us. If a man criticises me I must\nfirst look to see whether he is right. He may be partly right, and\nnot entirely,--but, whatever truth there is in his criticism, I want\nto know it in order that I may see the fault clearly myself and\nremedy it. If his criticism is ill-natured it is not necessarily any\nthe less true, and I must not let the truth be obscured by his\nill-nature. All, that I have to do with the ill-nature is to be\nsorry, on my friend's account, and help him out of it if he is\nwilling; and there is nothing that is so likely to make him willing\nas my recognizing the justice of what he says and acting upon it,\nwhile, at the same time, I neither resent nor resist his ill-nature.\nIf the man is both ill-natured and unjust,--if there is no touch of\nwhat is true in his criticism,--then all I have to do is to cease\nresenting it. I should be perfectly willing that he should think\nanything he pleases, while I, so far as I can see, go on and do what\nis right.\n\n_The trouble is that we care more to appear right than to be right._\nThis undue regard for appearances is very deep-seated, for it comes\nfrom long habit and inheritance; but we must recognize it and\nacknowledge it in ourselves, in order to take the true path toward\nfreedom. So long as we are working for appearances we are not\nworking for realities. When we love to _be_ right first, then we\nwill regard appearances only enough to protect what is good and true\nfrom needless misunderstanding and disrespect. Sometimes we cannot\neven do that without sacrificing the truth to appearances, and in\nsuch cases we must be true to realities first, and know that\nappearances must harmonize with them in the end. If causes are\nright, effects must be orderly, even though at times they may not\nseem so to the superficial observer. Fear of not being approved of\nis the cause of great nervous strain and waste of energy; for fear\nis resistance, and we can counteract that terrified resistance only\nby being perfectly willing that any one should think anything he\nlikes. When moving in obedience to law--natural and spiritual--a\nman's power cannot be overestimated; but in order to learn genuine\nobedience to law, we must be willing to accept our limitations and\nwait for them to be gradually removed as we gain in true freedom.\nLet us not forget that if we are overpleased--selfishly pleased--at\nthe approval of others, we are just as much in bondage to them as if\nwe were angry at their disapproval. Both approval and disapproval\nare helpful if we accept them for the use they can be to us, but are\nequally injurious if we take them to feed our vanity or annoyance.\n\nIt is hard to believe, until our new standard is firmly established,\nthat only from this true freedom do we get the most vital sense of\nloving human intercourse and companionship, for then we find\nourselves working hand in hand with those who are united to us in\nthe love of principles, and we are ready to recognize and to draw\nout the best in every one of those about us.\n\nIf this law of freedom from others--which so greatly increases our\npower of use to them and their power of use to us--had not been\nproved absolutely practical, it would not be a law at all. It is\nonly as we find it practical in every detail, and as obedience to it\nis proved to be the only sure road to established freedom that we\nare bound to accept it. To learn to live in such obedience we must\nbe steady, persistent and patient,--teaching ourselves the same\ntruths many times, until a new habit of freedom is established\nwithin us by the experience of our daily lives. We must learn and\ngrow in power from every failure; and we must not dwell with pride\nand complacency on good results, but always move steadily and\nquietly forward.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nIX\n\n_Human Sympathy_\n\n\n\n\n\nA NURSE who had been only a few weeks in the hospital\ntraining-school, once saw--from her seat at the dinner-table--a man\nbrought into the house who was suffering intensely from a very\nsevere accident. The young woman started up to be of what service\nshe could, and when she returned to the table, had lost her appetite\nentirely, because of her sympathy for the suffering man. She had\nhardly begun her dinner, and would have gone without it if it had\nnot been for a sharp reprimand from the superintendent.\n\n\"If you really sympathize with that man,\" she said, \"you will eat\nyour dinner to get strength to take care of him. Here is a man who\nwill need constant, steady, _healthy_ attention for some days to\ncome,--and special care all this afternoon and night, and it will be\nyour duty to look out for him. Your 'sympathy' is already pulling\nyou down and taking away your strength, and you are doing what you\ncan to lose more strength by refusing to eat your dinner. Such\nsympathy as that is poor stuff; I call it weak sentimentality.\"\n\nThe reprimand was purposely sharp, and, by arousing the anger and\nindignation of the nurse, it served as a counter-irritant which\nrestored her appetite. After her anger had subsided, she thanked the\nsuperintendent with all her heart, and from that day she began to\nlearn the difference between true and false sympathy. It took her\nsome time, however, to get thoroughly established in the habit of\nhealthy sympathy. The tendency to unwholesome sympathy was part of\nher natural inheritance, along with many other evil tendencies which\nfrequently have to be overcome before a person with a very sensitive\nnervous system can find his own true strength. But as she watched\nthe useless suffering which resulted in all cases in which people\nallowed themselves to be weakened by the pain of others, she learned\nto understand more and more intelligently the practice of wholesome\nsympathy, and worked until it had become her second nature.\nEspecially did she do this after having proved many times, by\npractical experience, the strength which comes through the power of\nwholesome sympathy to those in pain.\n\nUnwholesome sympathy incapacitates one for serving others, whether\nthe need be physical, mental, or moral. Wholesome sympathy not only\ngives us power to serve, but clears our understanding; and, because\nof our growing ability to appreciate rightly the point of view of\nother people, our service can be more and more intelligent.\n\nIn contrast to this unwholesome sympathy, which is the cause of more\ntrouble in the world than people generally suppose, is the\nunwholesome lack of sympathy, or hardening process, which is\ndeliberately cultivated by many people, and which another story will\nserve to illustrate.\n\nA poor negro was once brought to the hospital very ill; he had\nsuffered so keenly in the process of getting there that the\nresulting weakness, together with the intense fright at the idea of\nbeing in a hospital, which is so common to many of his class, added\nto the effects of his disease itself, were too much for him, and he\ndied before he had been in bed fifteen minutes. The nurse in charge\nlooked at him and said, in a cold, steady tone:--\n\n\"It was hardly worth while to make up the bed.\"\n\nShe had hardened herself because she could not endure the suffering\nof unwholesome sympathy, and yet \"must do her work.\" No one had\ntaught her the freedom and power of true sympathy. Her finer senses\nwere dulled and atrophied,--she did not know the difference between\none human soul and another. She only knew that this was a case of\ntyphoid fever, that a case of pneumonia, and another a case of\ndelirium tremens. They were all one to her, so far as the human\nbeings went. She knew the diagnosis and the care of the physical\ndisease,--and that was all. She did the material work very well, but\nshe must have brought torture to the sensitive mind in many a poor,\nsick body.\n\nAnother form of false sympathy is what may be called professional\nsympathy. Some people never find that out, but admire and get\ncomfort from the professional sympathy of a doctor or a nurse, or\nany other person whose profession it is to care for those who are\nsuffering. It takes a keen perception or a quick emergency to bring\nout the false ring of professional sympathy. But the hardening\nprocess that goes on in the professional sympathizer is even greater\nthan in the case of those who do not put on a sympathetic veneer. It\nseems as if there must be great tension in the more delicate parts\nof the nervous system in people who have hardened themselves, with\nor without the veneer,--akin to what there would be in the muscles\nif a man went about his work with both fists tightly clenched all\nday, and slept with them clenched all night. If that tension of hard\nindifference could be reached and relaxed, the result would probably\nbe a nervous collapse, before true, wholesome habits could be\nestablished, but unfortunately it often becomes so rigid that a\nhealthy relaxation is out of the question. Professional sympathy is\nof the same quality as the selfish sympathy which we see constantly\nabout us in men or women who sympathize because the emotion attracts\nadmiration and wins the favor of others.\n\nWhen people sympathize in their selfishness instead of sympathizing\nin their efforts to get free, the force of selfishness is increased,\nand the world is kept down to a lower standard by just so much.\n\nA thief, for instance, fails in a well-planned attempt to get a\nlarge sum of money, and confides his attempt and failure to a\nbrother thief, who expresses admiration for the sneaking keenness of\nthe plan, and hearty sympathy in the regret for his failure. The\nfirst thief immediately pronounces the second thief \"a good fellow.\"\nBut, at the same time, if either of these apparently friendly\nthieves could get more money by cheating the other the next day he\nwould not hesitate to do so.\n\nTo be truly sympathetic, we should be able so to identify ourselves\nwith the interests of others that we can have a thorough\nappreciation of their point of view, and can understand their lives\nclearly, as they appear to themselves; but this we can never do if\nwe are immersed in the fog,--either of their personal selfishness or\nour own. By understanding others clearly, we can talk in ways that\nare, and seem to them, rational, and gradually lead them to a higher\nstandard.\n\nIf a woman is in the depths of despair because a dress does not fit,\nI should not help her by telling her the truth about her character,\nand lecturing her upon her folly in wasting grief upon trifles, when\nthere are so many serious troubles in the world. From her point of\nview, the fact that her dress does not fit _is_ a grief. But if I\nkeep quiet, and let her see that I understand her disappointment,\nand at the same time hold my own standard, she will be led much more\neasily and more truly to see for herself the smallness of her\nattitude. First, perhaps, she will be proud that she has learned not\nto worry about such a little thing as a new dress; and, if so, I\nmust remember her point of view, and be willing that she should be\nproud. Then, perhaps, she will come to wonder how she ever could\nhave wasted anxiety on a dress or a hat, and later she may perhaps\nforget that she ever did.\n\nIt is like leading a child. We give loving sympathy to a child when\nit breaks its doll, although we know there is nothing real to grieve\nabout There is something for the child to grieve about, something\nvery real _to her;_ but we can only sympathize helpfully with her\npoint of view by keeping ourselves clearly in the light of our own\nmore mature point of view.\n\nFrom the top of a mountain you can see into the valley round\nabout,--your horizon is very broad, and you can distinguish the\ndetails that it encompasses; but, from the valley, you cannot see\nthe top of the mountain, and your horizon is limited.\n\nThis illustrates truly the breadth and power of wholesome human\nsympathy. With a real love for human nature, if a man has a clear,\nhigh standard of his own,--a standard which he does not attribute to\nhis own intelligence--his understanding of the lower standards of\nother men will also be very clear, and he will take all sorts and\nconditions of men into the region within the horizon of his mind.\nNot only that, but he will recognize the fact When the standard of\nanother man is higher than his own, and will be ready to ascend at\nonce when he becomes aware of a higher point of view. On the other\nhand, when selfishness is sympathizing with selfishness, there is no\nascent possible, but only the one little low place limited by the\npersonal, selfish interests of those concerned.\n\nNobody else's trouble seems worth considering to those who are\nimmersed in their own, or in their selfish sympathy with a friend\nwhom they have chosen to champion. This is especially felt among\nconventional people, when something happens which disturbs their\nexternal habits and standards of life. Sympathy is at once thrown\nout on the side of conventionality, without any rational inquiry as\nto the real rights of the case. Selfish respectability is most\nunwholesome in its unhealthy sympathy with selfish respectability.\n\nThe wholesome sympathy of living human hearts sympathizes first with\nwhat is wholesome,--especially in those who suffer,--whether it be\nwholesomeness of soul or body; and true sympathy often knows and\nrecognizes that wholesomeness better than the sufferer himself. Only\nin a secondary way, and as a means to a higher end, does it\nsympathize with the painful circumstances or conditions. By keeping\nour sympathies steadily fixed on the health of a brother or friend,\nwhen he is immersed in and overcome by his own pain, we may show him\nthe way out of his pain more truly and more quickly. By keeping our\nsympathies fixed on the health of a friend's soul, we may lead him\nout of selfishness which otherwise might gradually destroy him. In\nboth cases our loving care should be truly felt,--and felt as real\nunderstanding of the pain or grief suffered in the steps by the way,\nwith an intelligent sense of their true relation to the best\ninterests of the sufferer himself Such wholesome sympathy is alert\nin all its perceptions to appreciate different points of view, and\ntakes care to speak only in language which is intelligible, and\ntherefore useful. It is full of loving patience, and never forces or\npersuades, but waits and watches to give help at the right time and\nin the right place. It is more often helpful with silence than with\nwords. It stimulates one to imagine what friendship might be if it\nwere alive and wholesome to the very core. For, in such friendship\nas this, a true friend to one man has the capacity of being a true\nfriend to all men, and one who has a thoroughly wholesome sympathy\nfor one human being will have it for all. His general attitude must\nalways be the same--modified only by the relative distance which\ncomes from variety in temperaments.\n\nIn order to sympathize with the best possibilities in others, our\nown standards must be high and clear, and we must be steadily true\nto them. Such sympathy is freedom itself,--it is warm and\nglowing,--while the sympathy which adds its weight to the pain or\nselfishness of others can really be only bondage, however good it\nmay appear.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nX\n\n_Personal Independence_\n\n\n\n\n\nIN proportion as every organ of the human body is free to perform\nits own functions, unimpeded by any other, the body is perfectly\nhealthy and vigorous; and, in proportion as every organ of the body\nis receiving its proper support from every other, the body as a\nwhole is vigorous, and in the full use of its powers.\n\nThese are two self-evident axioms, and, if we think of them quietly\nfor a little while, they will lead us to a clear realization of true\npersonal independence.\n\nThe lungs cannot do the work of the heart, but must do their own\nwork, independently and freely; and yet, if the lungs should\nsuddenly say to themselves:\n\n\"This is all nonsense,--our depending upon the heart in this way; we\nmust be independent! It is weak to depend upon the other organs of\nthe body!\" And if they should repel the blood which the heart pumped\ninto them, with the idea that they could manage the body by\nthemselves, and were not going to be weakly dependent upon the\nheart, the stomach, or any other organ,--if the lungs should insist\nupon taking this independent stand, they would very soon stop\nbreathing, the heart would stop beating, the stomach would stop\ndigesting, and the body would die. Or, suppose that the heart should\nrefuse to supply the lungs with the blood necessary to provide\noxygen; the same fatal result would of course follow. Or, even let\nus imagine all the organs of the body agreeing that it is weak to be\ndependent, and asserting their independence of each other. At the\nvery instant that such an agreement was carried into effect, the\nbody would perish.\n\nThen, on the other hand,--to reverse the illustration,--if the lungs\nshould feel that they could help the heart's work by attending to\nthe circulation of the blood, if the heart should insist that it\ncould inhale and exhale better than the lungs, and should neglect\nits own work in order to advise and assist the lungs in the\nbreathing, the machinery of the body would be in sad confusion for a\ntime, and would very soon cease altogether.\n\nThis imaginary want of real independence in the working of the\ndifferent organs of the body can be illustrated by the actual action\nof the muscles. How often we see a man working with his mouth while\nwriting, when he should be only using his hands; or, working\nuselessly with his left hand, when what he has to do only needs the\nright! How often we see people trying to listen with their arms and\nshoulders! Such illustrations might be multiplied indefinitely, and,\nin all cases, the false sympathy of contraction in the parts of the\nbody which are not needed for the work in hand comes from a wrong\ndependence,--from the fact that the pats of the body that are not\nneeded, are officiously dependent upon those that are properly\nactive, instead of minding their own affairs and saving energy for\ntheir own work.\n\nThe wholesome working of the human organism, is so perfect in its\nanalogy to the healthy relations of members of a community, that no\nreader should pass it by without very careful thought.\n\nJohn says:--\n\n\"I am not going to be dependent upon any man. I am going to live my\nown life, in my own way, as I expect other men to live theirs. If\nthey will leave me alone, I will leave them alone,\" and John\nflatters himself that he is asserting his own strength of\npersonality, that he is emphasizing his individuality. The truth is\nthat John is warping himself every day by his weak dependence upon\nhis own prejudices. He is unwilling to look fairly at another main's\nopinion for fear of being dependent upon it. He is not only warping\nhimself by his \"independence,\" which is puffed up with the false\nappearance of strength, but he is robbing his fellow-men; for he\ncannot refuse to receive from others without putting it out of his\nown power to give to others. Real giving and receiving must be\nreciprocal in spirit, and absolutely dependent upon each other.\n\nIt is a curious and a sad study to watch the growing slavery of such\n\"independent\" people.\n\nJames, on the other hand, thinks he cannot do anything without\nasking another man's advice or getting another man's help; sometimes\nit is always the same man, sometimes it is one of twenty different\nmen. And so, James is steadily losing the power of looking life in\nthe face, and of judging for himself whether or not to take the\nadvice of others from a rational principle, and of his own free\nwill, and he is gradually becoming a parasite,--an animal which\nfinally loses all its organs from lack of use, so that only its\nstomach remains,--and has, of course, no intelligence at all. The\nexamples of such men as James are much more numerous than might be\nsupposed. We seldom see them in such flabby dependence upon the will\nof an individual as would make them conspicuous; but they are about\nus every day, and in large numbers, in their weak dependence upon\npublic opinion,--their bondage to the desire that other men should\nthink well of them. The human parasites that are daily feeding on\nsocial recognition are unconsciously in the process of losing their\nindividuality and their intelligence; and it would be a sad surprise\nto them if they could see themselves clearly as they really are.\n\nPublic opinion is a necessary and true protection to the world as it\nis, because if it were not for public opinion, many men and women\nwould dare to be more wicked than they are. But that is no reason\nwhy intelligent men should order their lives on certain lines just\nbecause their neighbors do,--just because it is the custom. If the\ncustom is a good custom, it can be followed intelligently, and\nbecause we recognize it as good, but it should not be followed only\nbecause our neighbors follow it. Then, if our neighbors follow the\ncustom for the same intelligent reason, it will bring us and them\ninto free and happy sympathy.\n\nNeither should a man hesitate to do right, positively and\nfearlessly, in the face of the public assertion that he is doing\nwrong. He should, of course, look himself over many times to be sure\nthat he is doing right, according to his own best light, and he\nshould be willing to change his course of action just as fearlessly\nif he finds he has made a mistake; but, having once decided, he will\nrespect public opinion much more truly by acting quietly against it\nwith an open mind, than he would if he refused to do right, because\nhe was afraid of what others would think of him. To defy carelessly\nthe opinion of others is false independence, and has in it the\nelements of fear, however fearless it may seem; but to respectfully\nignore it for the sake of what is true, and good, and useful, is\nsure to enlarge the public heart and to help, it eventually to a\nclearer charity. Individual dependence and individual independence\nare absolutely necessary to a well-adjusted balance. It is just as\nnecessary to the individual men of a community as to the individual\norgans of the body.\n\nIt is not uncommon for a person to say:--\n\n\"I must give up So-and-so; I must not see so much of him,--I am\ngetting so dependent upon him.\"\n\nIf the apparent dependence on a friend is due to the fact that he\nhas valuable principles to teach which may take time to learn, but\nwhich lead in the end to greater freedom, then to give up such\ncompanionship, out of regard for the criticism of others would, of\ncourse, be weakness and folly itself. It is often our lot to incur\nthe severest blame for the very weaknesses which we have most\nentirely overcome.\n\nMany people will say:--\n\n\"I should rather be independently wrong than dependently right,\" and\nothers will admire them for the assertion. But the truth is, that\nwhenever one is wrong, one is necessarily dependent, either upon man\nor devil; but it is impossible to be dependently right, excepting\nfor the comparatively short time that we may need for a definite,\nuseful purpose. If a man is right in his mental and moral attitude\nmerely because his friend is right, and not because he wants the\nright himself, it will only be a matter of time before his prop is\ntaken away, and he will fall back into his own moral weakness. Of\ncourse, a man can begin to be right because his friend is\nright;--but it is because there is something in him which responds\nto the good in his friend. Strong men are true to their friendships\nand convictions, in spite of appearances and the clamor of their\ncritics.\n\nTrue independence is never afraid of appearing dependent, and true\ndependence leads always to the most perfect independence.\n\nWe cannot, really enjoy our own freedom without the growing desire\nand power to help other people to theirs. Our own love of\nindependence will bring with it an equal love for the independence\nof our neighbor; and our own love of true dependence--that is, of\nreceiving wise help from any one through whom it may be sent--will\ngive us an equal love for giving help wherever it will be welcome.\nOur respect for our own independence will make it impossible that we\nshould insist upon trying to give help to others where it is not\nwanted; and our own respect for true dependence will give us a\nloving charity, a true respect for those who are necessarily and\ntemporarily dependent, and teach us to help them to their true\nbalance.\n\nWe should learn to keep a margin of reserve for ourselves, and to\ngive the same margin to others. Not to come too near, but to be far\nenough away from every one to give us a true perspective. There is a\nsort of familiarity that arises sometimes between friends, or even\nmere acquaintances, which closes the door to true friendship or to\nreal acquaintance. It does not bring people near to one another, but\nkeeps them apart. It is as if men thought that they could be better\nfriends by bumping their heads together.\n\nOur freedom comes in realizing that all the energy of life should\ncome primarily from a love of principles and not of persons,\nexcepting as persons relate to principles. If one man finds another\nliving on principles that are higher than his own, it means strength\nand freedom for him to cling to his friend until he has learned to\nunderstand and live on those principles himself. Then if he finds\nhis own power for usefulness and his own enjoyment of life increased\nby his friendship, it would indeed be weak of him to refuse such\ncompanionship from fear of being dependent. The surest and strongest\nbasis of freedom in friendship is a common devotion to the same\nfundamental principles of life; and this insures reciprocal\nusefulness as well as personal independence. We must remember that\nthe very worst and weakest dependence is not a dependence upon\npersons, but upon a sin,--whether the sin be fear of public opinion\nor some other more or less serious form of bondage.\n\nThe only true independence is in obedience to law, and if, to gain\nthe habit of such obedience, we need a helping hand, it is truly\nindependent for us to take it.\n\n_We all came into the world alone, and we must go out of the world\nalone, and yet we are exquisitely and beautifully dependent upon one\nanother._\n\nA great German philosopher has said that there should be as much\nspace between the atoms of the body, in relation to its size, as\nthere is between the stars in relation to the size of the\nuniverse,--and yet every star is dependent upon every other\nstar,--as every atom in the body is dependent upon every other atom\nfor its true life and action. This principle of balance in the\nmacrocosm and the microcosm is equally applicable to any community\nof people, whether large or small. The quiet study and appreciation\nof it will enable us to realize the strength of free dependence and\ndependent freedom in the relation of persons to one another. The\nmore truly we can help one another in freedom toward the dependence\nupon law, which is the axis of the universe, the more wholesome and\nperfect will be all our human relations.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXI\n\n_Self-control_\n\n\n\n\n\nTO most people self-control means the control of appearances and not\nthe control of realities. This is a radical mistake, and must be\ncorrected, if we are to get a clear idea of self-control, and if we\nare to make a fair start in acquiring it as a permanent habit.\n\nI am what I am by virtue of my own motives of thought and action, by\nvirtue of what my mind is, what my will is, and what I am in the\nresultant combination of my mind and will; I am not necessarily what\nI appear from the outside.\n\nIf a man is ugly to me, and I want to knock him down, and refrain\nfrom doing so simply because it would not appear well, and is not\nthe habit of the people about me, my desire to knock him down is\nstill a part of myself, and I have not controlled myself until I am\nabsolutely free from that interior desire. So long as I am in hatred\nto another, I am in bondage to my hatred; and if, for the sake of\nappearances, I do not act or speak from it, I am none the less at\nits mercy, and it will find an outlet wherever it can do so without\ndebasing me in the eyes of other men more than I am willing to be\ndebased. The control of appearances is merely outward repression,\nand a very common instance of this may be observed in the effort to\ncontrol a laugh. If we repress it, it is apt to assert itself in\nspite of our best efforts; whereas, if we relax our muscles, and let\nthe sensation go through us, we can control our desire to laugh and\nso get free from it. When we repress a laugh, we are really holding\non to it, in our minds, but, when we control it by relaxing the\ntension that comes from the desire to laugh, it is as if the\nsensation passed over and away from us.\n\nIt is a well-known fact among surgeons that, if a man who is badly\nfrightened, takes ether, no matter how well he controls his outward\nbehavior, no matter how quiet he appears while the ether is being\nadministered, as soon as he loses control of his voluntary muscles,\nthe fear that has been repressed rushes out in the form of\nexcitement. This is a practical illustration of the fact that\ncontrol of appearances is merely control of the muscles, and that,\neven so far as our nervous system goes, it is only repression, and\nself-repression is not self-control.\n\nIf I repress the expression of irritability, anger, hatred, or any\nother form of evil, it is there, in my brain, just the same; and, in\none form or another, I am in bondage to it. Sometimes it expresses\nitself in little meannesses; sometimes it affects my body and makes\nme ill; often it keeps me from being entirely well. Of one thing we\nmay be sure,--it makes me the instrument of evil, in one way or\nanother. Repressed evil is not going to lie dormant in us forever;\nit will rise in active ferment, sooner or later. Its ultimate action\nis just as certain as that a serious impurity of the blood is\ncertain to lead to physical disease, if it is not counteracted.\n\nKnowing this to be true, we can no longer say of certain people\n\"So-and-so has remarkable self-control.\" We can only say, \"So-and-so\nrepresses his feelings remarkably well: what a good actor he is!\"\nThe men who have real self-control do exist, and they are the leaven\nthat saves the race. It is good to know that this habitual\nrepression comes, in many cases, from want of knowledge of the fact\nthat self-repression is not self-control.\n\nBut the reader may say, \"what am I to do, if I feel angry, and want\nto hit a man in the face; I am not supposed to hit him am I, rather\nthan to repress my feelings?\"\n\nNo, not at all, but you are supposed to use your will to get in\nbehind the desire to hit him, and, by relaxing in mind and body, and\nstopping all resistance to his action, to remove that desire in\nyourself entirely. If once you persistently refuse to resist by\ndropping the anger of your mind and the tension of your body, you\nhave gained an opportunity of helping your brother, if he is willing\nto be helped; you have cleared the atmosphere of your own mind\nentirely, so that you can understand his point of view, and give him\nthe benefit of reasonable consideration; or, at the very least, you\nhave yourself ceased to be ruled by his evils, for you can no longer\nbe roused to personal retaliation. It is interesting and\nenlightening to recognize the fact that we are in bondage to any man\nto the extent that we permit ourselves to be roused to anger or\nresentment by his words or actions.\n\nWhen a man's brain is befogged by the fumes of anger and\nirritability it can work neither clearly nor quietly, and, when that\nis the case, it is impossible for him to serve himself or his\nneighbor to his full ability. If another person has the power to\nrouse my anger or my irritability, and I allow the anger or the\nirritability to control me, I am, of course, subservient to my own\nbad state, and at the mercy of the person who has the power to\nexcite those evil states just in so far as such excitement confuses\nmy brain.\n\nEvery one has in him certain inherited and personal tendencies which\nare obstacles to his freedom of mind and body, and his freedom is\nlimited just in so far as he allows those tendencies to control him.\nIf he controls them by external repression, they are then working\nhavoc within him, no matter how thoroughly he may appear to be\nmaster of himself. If he acknowledges his mistaken tendencies fully\nand willingly and then refuses to act, speak, or think from them, he\nis taking a straight path toward freedom of life and action.\n\nOne great difficulty in the way of self-control is that we do not\nwant to get free from our anger. In such cases we can only want to\nwant to, and if we use the strength of will that is given us to drop\nour resistance in spite of our desire to be angry we shall be\nworking toward our freedom and our real self-control.\n\nThere is always a capacity for unselfish will, the will of the\nbetter self, behind the personal selfish will, ready and waiting for\nus to use it, and it grows with use until finally it overrules the\npersonal selfish will with a higher quality of power. It is only\nfalse strength that supports the personal will,--a false appearance\nof strength which might be called wilfulness and which leads\nultimately to the destruction of its owner. Any true observer of\nhuman nature will recognize the weakness of mere selfish wilfulness\nin another, and will keep entirely free from its trammels by\nrefusing to meet it in a spirit of resentment or retaliation.\n\nReal self-control, as compared to repression, is delightful in its\nphysical results, when we have any difficult experience to\nanticipate or to go through. Take, for instance, a surgical\noperation. If I control myself by yielding, by relaxing the nervous\ntension which is the result of MY fear, true self-control then\nbecomes possible, and brings a helpful freedom from, reaction after\nthe trouble is over. Or the same principle can be applied if I have\nto go through a hard trial with a friend and must control myself for\nhis sake,--dropping resistance in my mind and in my body, dropping\nresistance to his suffering, yielding my will to the necessities of\nthe situation,--this attitude will leave me much more clear to help\nhim, will show him how to help himself, and will relieve him from\nthe reaction that inevitably follows severe nervous strain. The\npower of use to others is increased immeasurably when we control\nourselves interiorly, and do not merely outwardly repress.\n\nIt often happens that a drunkard who is supposed to be \"cured,\"\nreturns to his habit, simply because he has wanted his drink all the\ntime, and has only been taught to repress his appetite; if he had\nbeen steadily and carefully taught real self-control, he would have\nlearnt to control and drop his interior _desire,_ and thus keep\npermanently free. How often we see intemperance which had shown\nitself in drink simply turned into another channel, another form of\nselfish indulgence, and yet the victim will complacently boast of\nhis self-control. An extreme illustration of this truth is shown in\nthe case of a well-known lecturer on temperance. He had given up\ndrink, but he ate like a glutton, and his thirst for applause was so\nextreme as to make him appear almost ridiculous when he did not\nreceive it.\n\nThe opportunities for self-control are, of course, innumerable;\nindeed they constitute pretty much the whole of life. We are living\nin freedom and use, real living use, in proportion as we are in\nactual control of our selfish selves, and led by our love of useful\nservice. In proportion as we have through true self-control brought\nourselves into daily and hourly obedience to law, are we in the\nfreedom that properly belongs to our lives and their true uses.\n\nWhen once we have won our freedom from resistance, we must use that\nfreedom in action, and put it directly to use. Sometimes it will\nresult in a small action, sometimes in a great one; but, whatever it\nis, it must be _done._ If we drop the resistance, and do not use the\nfreedom gained thereby for active service, we shall simply react\ninto further bondage, from which it will be still more difficult to\nescape. Having dropped my antagonism to my most bitter enemy, I must\ndo something to serve him, if I can. If I find that it is impossible\nto serve him, I can at least be of service to someone else; and this\naction, if carried out in the true spirit of unselfish service, will\ngo far toward the permanent establishment of my freedom.\n\nIf a circumstance which is atrociously wrong in itself makes us\nindignant, the first thing to do is to drop the resistance of our\nindignation, and then to do whatever may be within our power to\nprevent the continuance of such wrong. Many people weaken their\npowers of service by their own indignation, when, if they would\ncease their excited resistance, they would see clearly how to remedy\nthe wrong that arouses their antagonism. Action, when accompanied by\npersonal resistance, however effective it may seem, does not begin\nto have the power that can come from action, without such\nresistance. As, for instance, when we have to train a child with a\nperverse will, if we quietly assert what is right to the child, and\ninsist upon obedience without the slightest antagonistic feeling to\nthe child's naughtiness, we accomplish much more toward\nstrengthening the character of the child than if we try to enforce\nour idea by the use of our personal will, which is filled with\nresistance toward the child's obstinacy. In the latter case, it is\njust pitting our will against the will of the child, which is always\ndestructive, however it may appear that we have succeeded in\nenforcing the child's obedience. The same thing holds true in\nrelation to an older person, with the exception that, with him or\nher, we cannot even attempt to require obedience. In that case we\nmust,--when it is necessary that we should speak at all,--assert the\nright without antagonism to what we believe to be their wrong, and\nwithout the slightest personal resistance to it. If we follow this\ncourse, in most cases our friend will come to the right point of\nview,--sometimes the result seems almost miraculous,--or, as is\noften the case, we, because we are wholesomely open-minded, will\nrecognize any mistake in our own point of view, and will gladly\nmodify it to agree with that of our friend.\n\nThe trouble is that very few of us feel like working to remedy a\nwrong merely for the sake of the right, and therefore we must have\nan impetus of personal feeling to carry us on toward the work of\nreformation. If we could once be strongly started in obedience to\nthe law from love of the law itself, we should find in that\nimpersonal love a clear light and power for effective action both in\nthe larger and in the smaller questions of life.\n\nThere is a popular cry against introspection and an insistence that\nit is necessarily morbid, which works in direct opposition to true\nself-control. Introspection for its own sake is self-centred and\nmorbid, but we might as well assert that it is right to have dirty\nhands so long as we wear gloves, and that it is morbid to want to be\nsure that our hands are clean under our gloves, as to assert that\nintrospection for the sake of our true spiritual freedom is morbid.\nIf I cannot look at my selfish motives, how am I going to get free\nfrom them? It is my selfish motives that prevent true self-control.\nIt is my selfish motives that prompt me to the false control of\nrepression, which is counterfeit and for the sake of appearances\nalone. We must see these motives, recognize and turn away from them,\nin order to control ourselves interiorly into line with law. We\ncannot possibly see them unless we look for them. If we look into\nourselves for the sake of freedom, for the sake of our greater power\nfor use, for the sake of our true self-control, what can be more\nwholesome or what can lead us to a more healthy habit of looking out\nfrom ourselves into the lives and interests of others? The farther\nwe get established in motives that are truly unselfish, the sooner\nwe shall get out of our own light, and the wider our horizon will\nbe; and the wider our horizon, the greater our power for use.\n\nThere must, of course, be a certain period of self-consciousness in\nthe process of finding our true self-control, but it is for the sake\nof an end which brings us more and more fully into a state of happy,\nquiet spontaneity. If we are working carefully for true self-control\nwe shall welcome an unexpected searchlight from another mind. If the\nsearchlight brings into prominence a bit of irritation that we did\nnot know was there, so much the better. How could we free ourselves\nfrom it without knowing that it was there? But as soon as we\ndiscover it we can control and cast it off. A healthy introspection\nis merely the use of a searchlight which every one who loves the\ntruth has the privilege of using for the sake of his own growth and\nwilfulness, and circumstances often turn it full upon us, greatly to\nour advantage, if we do not wince but act upon the knowledge that it\nbrings. It is possible to acquire an introspective habit which is\nwholesome and true, and brings us every day a better sense of pro.\nportion and a clearer outlook.\n\nWith regard to the true control of the Pleasurable emotions, the\nsame principle applies.\n\nPeople often grow intensely excited in listening to music,--letting\ntheir emotions run rampant and suffering in consequence a painful\nreaction of fatigue. If they would learn to yield so that the music\ncould pass over their nerves as it passes over the strings of a\nmusical instrument, and then, with the new life and vigor derived\nfrom the enjoyment, would turn to some useful work, they would find\na great expansion in the enjoyment of the music as well as a new\npleasure in their work.\n\nReal self-control is the subjugation of selfishness in whatever form\nit may exist, and its entire subordination to spiritual and natural\nlaw. Real self-control is not self-centred. In so far as we become\nestablished in this true self-control, we are upheld by law and\nguided by the power behind it to the perfect freedom and joy of a\nuseful life.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXII\n\n_The Religion of It_\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE religion of it is the whole of it. \"All religion has relation to\nlife and the life of religion is to do good.\" If religion does not\nteach us to do good in the very best way, in the way that is most\ntruly useful to ourselves and to other people, religion is\nabsolutely useless and had better be ignored altogether. We must\nbeware, however, of identifying the idea of religion with the men\nand the women who pervert it. If an electrician came to us to light\nour house, and the lights would not burn, we would not immediately\ncondemn all electric lighting as bosh and nonsense, or as\nsentimental theory; we should know, of course, that this especial\nelectrician did not understand his business, and would at once look\nabout to find a man who did, and get him to put our lights in order.\nIf no electrician really seemed to know his business, and we wanted\nour lights very much, the next thing to do would be to look into\nthe laws of electricity ourselves, and find out exactly where the\ntrouble was, and so keep at work until we had made our own lights\nburn, and always felt able, if at any time they failed to burn, to\ndiscover and remedy the difficulty ourselves. There is not a man or\nwoman who does not feel, at some time, the need of an inner light to\nmake the path clear in the circumstances of life, and especially in\ndealing with others. Many men and women feel that need all the time,\nand happy are those who are not satisfied until the need is supplied\nand they are working steadily in daily practical life, guided by a\nlight that they know is higher than theory. When the light is once\nfound, and we know the direction in which we wish to travel, the\npath is not by any means always clear and smooth, it is often, full\nof hard, rough Places, and there are sometimes miles to go over\nwhere our light seems dim; but if we have proved our direction to be\nright, and keep steadily and strongly moving forward, we are always\nsure to come into open resting places where we can be quiet, gather\nstrength, and see the light more clearly for the next stage of the\njourney.\n\n\"It is wonderful,\" some one remarked, \"how this theory of\nnon-resistance has helped me; life is quite another thing since I\nhave practised it steadily.\" The reply was \"it is not wonderful when\nwe realize that the Lord meant what He said when He told us not to\nresist evil.\" At this suggestion the speaker looked up with surprise\nand said: \"Why, is that in the New Testament? Where, in what part of\nit?\" She never had thought of the sermon on the Mount as a working\nplan, or, indeed, of the New Testament as a handbook of\nlife,--practical and powerful in every detail. If we once begin to\nuse it daily and hourly as a working plan of life, it is marvellous\nhow the power and the efficiency of it will grow on us, and we shall\nno more be able to get along without it than an electrician can get\nalong without a knowledge of the laws of electricity.\n\nSome people have taken the New Testament so literally that they have\nbefogged themselves entirely with regard to its real meaning, and\nhave put it aside as impracticable; others have surrounded it with\nan emotional idea, as something to theorize and rhapsodize about,\nand have befogged themselves in that way with regard to its real\npower. Most people are not clear about it because of the tradition\nthat has come to us through generations who have read it and heard\nit read in church, and never have thought of living it outside. We\ncan have a great deal of church without any religion, but we cannot\nhave religion without true worship, whether the worship is only in\nour individual souls, or whether it is also the function of a church\nto which we belong, with a building dedicated to the worship of the\nLord to which we go for prayer and for instruction. If we could\nclear ourselves from the deadening effects of tradition, from\nsentimentality, from nice theory, and from every touch of emotional\nand spurious peace, and take up the New Testament as if we were\nreading it for the first time, and then if we could use it\nfaithfully as a working plan for a time, simply as an\nexperiment,--it would soon cease to be an experiment, and we should\nnot need to be told by any one that it is a divine revelation; we\nwould be confident of that in our own souls. Indeed that is the only\nway any one can ever be sure of revelation; it must come to each of\nus alone, as if it had never come to any one before; and yet the\nbeauty and power of it is such that it has come to myriads before us\nand will come to myriads after us in just the same way.\n\nBut there is no real revelation for any one _until he has lived what\nhe sees to be true._ I may talk like an angel and assert with a\nshining face my confident faith in God and in all His laws, but my\nwords will mean nothing whatever, unless I have so lived my faith\nthat it has been absorbed, into my character and so that the truths\nof my working plan have become my second nature.\n\nMany people have discovered that the Lord meant what He said when He\nsaid: \"Resist not evil,\" and have proved how truly practical is the\ncommand, in their efforts to be willing to be ill, to be willing\nthat circumstances should seem to go against them, to be willing\nthat other people should be unjust, angry, or disagreeable. They\nhave seen that in yielding to circumstances or people\nentirely,--that is, in dropping their own resistances,--they have\ngained clear, quiet minds, which enables them to see, to understand,\nand to practise a higher common sense in the affairs of their lives,\nwhich leads to their ultimate happiness and freedom. It is now clear\nto many people that much of the nervous illness of to-day is caused\nby a prolonged state of resistance to circumstances or to people\nwhich has kept the brain in a strained and irritated state so that\nit can no longer do its work; and that the patient has to lay by for\na longer or a shorter period, according to his ability to drop the\nresistances, and so allay the irritation and let his brain and\nnervous system rest and heal.\n\nThen with regard to dealing with others, some of us have found out\nthe practical common sense of taking even injustice quietly and\nwithout resistance, of looking to our own faults first, and getting\nquite free from all resentment and resistance to the behavior of\nothers, before we can expect to understand their point of view, or\nto help them to more reasonable, kindly action if they are in error.\nVery few of us have recognized and acknowledged that that was what\nthe Lord meant when He said: \"Judge not that ye be not judged. For\nwith what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged: and with what\nmeasure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again. And why\nbeholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother's eye, but\nconsiderest not the beam that is in thine own eye? Or how wilt thou\nsay to thy brother, Let me pull out the mote out of thine eye; and,\nbehold, a beam is in thine own eye? Thou hypocrite, first cast out\nthe beam out of thine own eye; and then shalt thou see clearly to\ncast out the mote out of thy brother's eye.\"\n\nIt comes with a flash of recognition that is refreshingly helpful\nwhen we think we have discovered a practical truth that works, and\nthen see that it is only another way of putting what has been taught\nfor the last two thousand years.\n\nMany of us understand and appreciate the truth that a man's true\ncharacter depends upon his real, interior motives. He is only what\nhis motives are, and not, necessarily, what his motives appear to\nbe. We know that, if a man only controls the appearance of anger and\nhatred, he has no real self-control whatever. He must get free from\nthe anger itself to be free in reality, and to be his own master. We\nmust stop and think, however, to understand that this is just what\nthe Lord meant when He told us to clean the inside of the cup and\nthe platter, and we need to think more to realize the strength of\nthe warning, that we should not be \"whitened sepulchres.\"\n\nWe know that we are really related to those who can and do help us\nto be more useful men and women, and to those whom we can serve in\nthe most genuine way; we know that we are wholesomely dependent upon\nall from whom we can learn, and we should be glad to have those\nfreely dependent upon us whom we can truly serve. It is most\nstrengthening when we realize that this is the true meaning of the\nLord's saying, \"For whosoever shall do the will of God, the same is\nmy brother, and my sister, and mother.\" That the Lord Himself, with\nall His strength, was willing to be dependent, is shown by the fact\nthat, from the cross, He said to those who had crucified Him, \"I\nthirst.\" They had condemned Him, and crucified Him, and yet He was\nwilling to ask them for drink, to show His willingness to be served\nby them, even though He knew they would respond only with a sponge\nfilled with vinegar.\n\nWe know that when we are in a hard place, if we do the duty that is\nbefore us, and keep steadily at work as well as we can, that the\nhard problem will get worked through in some way. We know that this\nis true, for we have proved it over and over; but how many people\nrealize that it is because the Lord meant what He said when He told\nus: to \"take no thought for the morrow, for the morrow will take\nthought for the things of itself.\"\n\nI am reasoning from the proof of the law to the law itself.\n\nThere is no end to the illustrations that we might find proving the\nspiritual common sense of the New Testament and, if by working first\nin that way, we can get through this fog of tradition, of\nsentimentality, and of religious emotion, and find the living power\nof the book itself, then we can get a more and more clear\ncomprehension of the laws it teaches, and will, every day, be\nproving their practical power in all our dealings with life and with\npeople. Whether we are wrestling with nature in scientific work,\nwhether we are working in the fine arts, in the commercial world, in\nthe professional world, or are dealing with nations, it is always\nthe same,--we find our freedom to work fully realized only when we\nare obedient to law, and it is a wonderful day for any human being\nwhen he intelligently recognizes and finds himself getting into the\ncurrent of the law of the New Testament. The action of that law he\nsees is real, and everything outside he recognizes as unreal. In the\nlight of the new truth, we see that many things which we have\nhitherto regarded as essential, are of minor importance in their\nrelation to life itself.\n\nThe old lady who said to her friend, \"My dear, it is impossible to\nexaggerate the unimportance of things,\" had learned what it meant to\ndrop everything that interferes, and must have been truly on her way\nto the concentration which should be the very central power of all\nlife,--obedience to the two great commandments.\n\nConcentration does not mean straining every nerve and muscle toward\nobedience, it means _dropping every thing that interferes._ If we\ndrop everything that interferes with our obedience to the two great\ncommandments, and the other laws which are given us all through the\nNew Testament to help us obey, we are steadily dropping all selfish\nresistance, and all tendency to selfish responsibility; and in that\nsteady effort, we are on the only path which can by any possibility\nlead us directly to freedom.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXIII\n\n_About Christmas_\n\n\n\n\n\nTHERE was once a family who had a guest staying with them; and when\nthey found out that he was to have a birthday during his visit they\nwere all delighted at the idea of celebrating it. Days\nbefore--almost weeks before--they began to prepare for the\ncelebration. They cooked and stored a large quantity of good things\nto eat, and laid in a stock of good things to be cooked and prepared\non the happy day. They planned and arranged the most beautiful\ndecorations. They even thought over and made, or selected, little\ngifts for one another; and the whole house was in hurry and\nconfusion for weeks before the birthday came. Everything else that\nwas to be done was postponed until after the birthday; and, indeed,\nmany important things were neglected.\n\nFinally the birthday came, the rooms were all decorated, the table\nset, all the little gifts arranged, and the guests from outside of\nthe house had all arrived. Just after the festivities had begun a\nlittle child said to its mother: \"Mamma, where is the man whose\nbirthday it is--\"\n\n\"Hush, hush,\" the mother said, \"don't ask questions.\"\n\nBut the child persisted, until finally the mother said: \"Well, I am\nsure I do not know, my dear, but I will ask.\"\n\nShe asked her neighbor, and the neighbor looked surprised and a\nlittle puzzled.\n\n\"Why,\" she said, \"it is a celebration, we are celebrating his\nbirthday, and he is a guest in the house.\"\n\nThen the mother got interested and curious herself.\n\n\"But where is the guest? Where is the man whose birthday it is?\"\nAnd, this time she asked one of the family. He looked startled at\nfirst, and then inquired of the rest of the family.\n\n\"Where is the guest whose birthday it is?\" Alas I nobody knew. There\nthey were, all excited and trying to enjoy themselves by celebrating\nhis birthday, and he,--some of them did not even know who he was! He\nwas left out and forgotten!\n\nWhen they had wondered for a little while they immediately forgot\nagain, and went on with their celebrations,--all except the little\nchild. He slipped out of the room and made up his mind to find the\nman whose birthday it was, and, finally, after a hard search, he\nfound him upstairs in the attic,--lonely and sick.\n\nHe had been asked to leave the guestroom, which he had occupied, and\nto move upstairs, so as to be out of the way of the preparations for\nhis birthday. Here he had fallen ill, and no one had had time to\nthink of him, excepting one of the humbler servants and this little\nchild. They had all been so busy preparing for his birthday festival\nthat they had forgotten him entirely.\n\nThis is the way it is with most of us at Christmas time.\n\nWhenever we think of a friend, or even an acquaintance, we think of\nhis various qualities,--not always in detail, but as forming a\ngeneral impression which we associate with his name. If it is a\nfriend whom we love and admire, we love, especially on his birthday,\nto dwell on all that is good and true in his character; and at such\ntimes, though he may be miles away in body, we find ourselves living\nwith him every hour of the day, and feel his presence, and, from\nthat feeling, do our daily tasks with the greater satisfaction and\njoy.\n\nEvery one in this part of the world, of course, knows whose birthday\nwe celebrate on the twenty-fifth of December. If we imagine that\nsuch a man never really existed, that he was simply an ideal\ncharacter, and nothing more,--if we were to take Christmas Day as\nthe festival of a noble myth,--the ideal which it represents is so\nclear, so true, so absolutely practical in the way it is recorded in\nthe book of his life, that it would be a most helpful joy to reflect\nupon it, and to try and apply its beautiful lessons on the day which\nwould especially recall it to our minds.\n\nOr, let us suppose that such a man really did exist,--a man whose\ncharacter was transcendently clear and true, quiet, steady, and\nstrong,--a man who was full of warm and tender love for all,--who\nwas constantly doing good to others without the slightest display or\nself-assertion,--a man who was simple and humble,--who looked the\nwhole world in the face and did what was right,--even though the\nwhole respectable world of his day disapproved of him, and even\nthough this same world attested in the most emphatic manner that he\nwas doing what was dangerous and wicked,--a man with spiritual sight\nso keen that it was far above and beyond any mere intellectual\npower,--a sight compared to which, what is commonly known as\nintellectual keenness is, indeed, as darkness unto light; a man\nwith a loving consideration for others so true and tender that its\nlife was felt by those who merely touched the hem of his garment.\nSuppose we knew that such a man really did live in this world, and\nthat the record of his life and teachings constitute the most\nvaluable heritage of our race,--what new life it would give us to\nthink of him, especially on his birthday,--to live over, so far as\nwe were able, his qualities as we knew them; and to gain, as a\nresult, new clearness for our own everyday lives. The better we knew\nthe man, the more clearly we could think of him, and the more full\nour thoughts would be of living, practical suggestions for daily\nwork.\n\nBut now just think what it would mean to us if we really knew that\nthis humble, loving man were the Creator of the universe--the very\nGod--who took upon Himself our human nature with all its hereditary\nimperfections; and, in that human nature met and conquered every\ntemptation that ever was, or ever could be possible to man; thus--by\nself-conquest--receiving all the divine qualities into his human\nnature, and bringing them into this world within reach of the hearts\nand minds of all men, to give light and warmth to their lives, and\nto enable them to serve each other;--if we could take this view of\nthe man's life and work, with what quiet reverence and joy should we\ncelebrate the twenty-fifth of December as a day set apart to\ncelebrate His birth into the world!\n\nIf we ourselves loved a truthful, quiet way of living better than\nany other way, how would we feel to see our friends preparing to\ncelebrate our birthday with strain, anxiety, and confusion? If we\nvalued a loving consideration for others more than anything else in\nthe world, how would it affect us to see our friends preparing for\nthe festival with a forced sense of the conventional necessity for\ngiving?\n\nWho gives himself with his gift feeds three,--\nHimself, his hungry neighbor, and Me.\"\n\nThat spirit should be in every Christmas gift throughout\nChristendom. The most thoughtless man or woman would recognize the\ntruth if they could look at it quietly with due regard for the real\nmeaning of the day. But after having heard and assented to the\ntruth, the thoughtless people would, from force of habit, go on with\nthe same rush and strain.\n\nIt is comparatively easy to recognize the truth, but it is quite\nanother thing to habitually recognize your own disobedience to it,\nand compel yourself to shun that disobedience, and so habitually to\nobey,--and to obey it is our only means of treating the truth with\nreal respect. When you ask a man, about holiday time, how his wife\nis, not uncommonly he will say:--\n\n\"Oh, she is all tired out getting ready for Christmas.\"\n\nAnd how often we hear the boast:--\n\n\"I had one hundred Christmas presents to buy, and I am completely\nworn out with the work of it.\"\n\nAnd these very women who are tired and strained with the Christmas\nwork, \"put on an expression\" and talk with emotion of the beauty of\nChristmas, and the joy there is in the \"Christmas feeling.\"\n\nJust so every one at the birthday party of the absent guest\nexclaimed with delight at all the pleasures provided, although the\nessential spirit of the occasion contradicted directly the qualities\nof the man whose birthday it was supposed to honor.\n\nHow often we may hear women in the railway cars talking over their\nChristmas shopping:--\n\n\"I got so and so for James,--that will do for him, don't you think\nso?\"\n\nAnd, when her companion answers in the affirmative, she gives a sigh\nof relief, as if to say, now he is off my mind!\n\nPoor woman, she does not know what it means to give herself with her\ngift. She is missing one of the essentials of the true joy of\nChristmas Day. Indeed, if all her gifts are given in that spirit,\nshe is directly contradicting the true spirit of the day. How many\nof us are unconsciously doing the same thing because of our--habit\nof regarding Christmas gifts as a matter of conventional obligation.\n\nIf we get the spirit of giving because of Him whose birthday it is,\nwe shall love to give, and our hearts will go out with our gifts,--and\nevery gift, whether great or small, will be a thoughtful\nmessage of love from one to another. There are now many people, of\ncourse, who have this true spirit of Christmas giving, and they are\nthe people who most earnestly wish that they had more. Then there\nare many more who do not know the spirit of a truly thoughtful gift,\nbut would be glad to know it, if it could once be brought to their\nattention.\n\nWe cannot give in a truly loving spirit if we give in order that we\nmay receive.\n\nWe cannot give truly in the spirit of Christmas if we rush and\nhurry, and feel strained and anxious about our gifts.\n\nWe cannot give truly if we give more than we can afford.\n\nPeople have been known to give nothing, because they could not give\nsomething expensive; they have been known to give nothing in order\nto avoid the trouble of careful and appropriate selection: but to\nrefrain from giving for such reasons is as much against the true\nspirit of Christmas as is the hurried, excited gift-making of\nconventionality.\n\nEven now there is joy in the Christmas time, in spite of the rush\nand hurry and selfishness, and the spirit of those who keep the joy\nalive by remembering whose birthday it is, serves as leaven all over\nthe world.\n\nFirst let us remember what Christmas stands for, and then let us try\nto realize the qualities of the great personality which gave the day\nits meaning and significance,--let us honor them truly in all our\ncelebrations. If we do this, we shall at the same time be truly\nhonoring the qualities, and respecting the needs of every friend to\nwhom we give, and our gifts, whether great or small, will be full of\nthe spirit of discriminating affection. Let us realize that in order\nto give truly, we must give soberly and quietly, and let us take an\nhour or more by ourselves to think over our gifts before we begin to\nbuy or to make them. If we do that the helpful thoughts are sure to\ncome, and new life will come with them.\n\nA wise man has described the difference between heaven and hell by\nsaying that in heaven, every one wants to give all that he has to\nevery one else, and that in hell, every one wants to take away from\nothers all they have. It is the spirit of heaven that belongs to\nChristmas.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXIV\n\n_To Mothers_\n\n\n\n\n\nMOST mothers know that it is better for the baby to put him into his\ncrib and let him go quietly to sleep by himself, than to rock him to\nsleep or put him to sleep in his mother's arms.\n\nMost mothers know also the difficulty of getting the baby into the\nright habit of going to sleep; and the prolonged crying that has to\nbe endured by both mother and baby before the habit is thoroughly\nestablished.\n\nMany a mother gets worn out in listening to her crying child, and\ngoes to bed tired and jaded, although she has done nothing but sit\nstill and listen. Many more, after listening and fretting for a\nwhile, go and take up the baby, and thus they weaken him as well as\ntheir own characters.\n\nA baby who finds out, when he is two months old, that his mother\nwill take him up if he cries, is also apt to discover, if he cries\nor teases enough, that his mother will let him have his own way for\nthe rest of his life.\n\nThe result is that the child rules the mother, rather than the\nmother the child; and this means sad trouble and disorder for both.\n\nStrong, quiet beginnings are a most valuable help to all good things\nin life, and if a young mother could begin by learning how to sit\nquietly and restfully and let her baby cry until he quieted down and\nwent to sleep, she would be laying the foundation for a very happy\nlife with her children.\n\nThe first necessity, after having seen that nothing is hurting him\nand that he really needs nothing, is to be willing that he should\ncry. A mother can make herself willing by saying over and over to\nherself, \"It is right that he should cry; I want him to cry until he\nhas learned to go to sleep quietly by himself He will be a stronger\nand a more healthy man for getting into all good habits as a child.\"\n\nOften the mother's spirit is willing, or wants to be willing, but\nher nerves rebel if, while she is teaching herself to listen\nquietly, she will take long, quiet breaths very steadily for some\ntime, and will occupy herself with interesting work, she will find\nit a great help toward dropping nervous resistance.\n\nChildren are much more sensitive than most people know, and readily\nrespond to the mother's state of mind; and even though the mother is\nin the next room, if she is truly dropping her nervous resistance\nand tension, the baby will often stop his crying all the sooner, and\nbesides, his mother will feel the good effects of her quiet yielding\nin her care of the baby all day long. She will be rested instead of\ntired when the baby has gone to sleep. She will have a more\nrefreshing sleep herself, and she will be able to care for the baby\nmore restfully when they are both awake.\n\nIt is a universal rule that the more excited or naughty the children\nare, the more quiet and clear the mother should be. A mother who\nrealizes this for the first time, and works with herself until she\nis free from all excited and strained resistance, discovers that it\nis through her care for her children that she herself has learned\nhow to live. Blessed are the children who have such a mother, and\nblessed is the mother of those children!\n\nIt is resistance--resistance to the naughtiness or disobedience in\nthe child that not only hurts and tires the mother, but interferes\nwith the best growth of the child.\n\n\"What!\" a mother may say, \"should I want my child to be naughty?\nWhat a dreadful thing!\"\n\nNo, we should not want our children to be naughty, but we should be\nwilling that they should be. We should drop resistance to their\nnaughtiness, for that will give us clear, quiet minds to help them\nout of their troubles.\n\nAll vehemence is weak; quiet, clear decision is strong; and the\nchild not only feels the strength of the quiet, decisive action, but\nhe feels the help from his mother's quiet atmosphere which comes\nwith it. If all parents realized fully that the work they do for\ntheir children should be done in themselves first, there would soon\nbe a new and wonderful influence perceptible all about us.\n\nThe greatest difficulty often comes from the fact that children have\ninherited the evil tendencies of their parents, which the parents\nthemselves have not acknowledged and overcome. In these cases, most\nof all, the work to be done for the child must first be done in the\nparents.\n\nA very poor woman, who was living in one room with her husband and\nthree children, once expressed her delight at having discovered how\nto manage her children better: \"I see!\" she said, \"the more I\nhollers, the more the children hollers; now I am not going to holler\nany more.\"\n\nThere is \"hollering\" of the voice, and there is \"hollering\" of the\nspirit, and children echo and suffer from both.\n\nThe same thing is true from the time they are born until they are\ngrown up, when it should be right for them to be their own fathers\nand mothers, so far as their characters are concerned, that they can\nreceive the greatest possible help from their parents through quiet\nnon-resistance to their naughtiness, combined with firm decision in\ndemanding obedience to law,--a decision which will derive its weight\nand influence from the fact that the parents themselves obey the\nlaws to which they require obedience.\n\nThus will the soul of the mother be mother to the soul of her child,\nand the development of mother and child be happily interdependent.\n\nIt is, of course, not resisting to be grieved at the child's\nnaughtiness,--for that grief must come as surely as penitence for\nour own wrongdoing.\n\nThe true dropping of resistance brings with it a sense that the\nchild is only given to us in trust, and an open, loving willingness\nleaves us free to learn the highest way in which the trust may be\nfulfilled.","title":"The Freedom of Life","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":32183}