"Lead, kindly Light, amid the encircling gloomLead thou me on.The night is dark, and I am far from home;Lead thou me on.Keep thou my feet; I do not ask to seeThe distant scene; one step enough for me.Lead thou me on."
"Lead, kindly Light, amid the encircling gloomLead thou me on.The night is dark, and I am far from home;Lead thou me on.Keep thou my feet; I do not ask to seeThe distant scene; one step enough for me.Lead thou me on."
"Lead, kindly Light, amid the encircling gloomLead thou me on.The night is dark, and I am far from home;Lead thou me on.Keep thou my feet; I do not ask to seeThe distant scene; one step enough for me.Lead thou me on."
"Lead, kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom
Lead thou me on.
The night is dark, and I am far from home;
Lead thou me on.
Keep thou my feet; I do not ask to see
The distant scene; one step enough for me.
Lead thou me on."
"I hang bright pictures in my mind"—Bright pictures encourage one; gloomy ones depress—Get rid of your old gloomy mental pictures—Make a bonfire of them—Get rid of the particularly miserable one, first of all—Then put bright ones in their places.
"I now hang bright pictures in my mind," said a friend to me, recently. Her remark explained to me without the necessity of further words, the cause of her bright, cheerful and happy disposition, so greatly in contrast with that of the despondent, fretful woman I had known a few months ago. The change seemed so remarkable that one would have almost expected her to have claimed some startling occurrence as the cause of the wondrous transformation, instead of giving so commonplace an explanation.
But just think how much there is in this thought: "I hang bright pictures in my mind." Stop a moment, and let the thought sink deep into your inner consciousness. "Bright pictures in the mind," why not, indeed? If we wish to make a chamber, or office, bright and cheery, we see that nothing but pictures representing bright, cheerful subjects are hung there. They may be the choicest engravings or paintings, or they may be some little inexpensive things, but just so they are bright and cheery the purpose is accomplished, and the room somehow seems a happier, more joyous place than before.
If we were preparing a new room for the occupancy of some dear one, would we place there any but the brightest picture? Would we hang there pictures of pain and misery, hate and murder, jealousy and revenge, sickness, suffering and death, failure and discouragement? Would we do this thing I ask you? Wouldyoudo it? And if not, why not, pray? Simply because you instinctively feel that the gloomy, hateful subjects would react upon the loved one. And you know, is the same way that the bright, cheerful, inspiring subjects are likely to uplift, stimulate, encourage and make better the occupant of the chamber.
Have you ever noticed that some rooms always seem to exert a beneficial effect upon you, while others seem to depress you? Certainly you have. Well, the next time you go into these rooms, look around a little and see if the explanation of your moods is not to be found in the character of the pictures on the walls. You may not have specially noticed them before, but your sub-conscious mental faculties have taken up the impression, and the reflex action has affected you. Who can resist the "fetching" qualities of a bright, baby face, smiling from a little picture on the mantel, or on the wall? Not I, for one. And who can help feeling the sense of comradeship for the kindly St. Bernard whose great, affectionate eyes look down upon you from the engraving on the other side of the room. And on the other hand, who could—but, now I'm not going to describe the other kind of pictures in this article.
But now to get back to the "pictures in the mind." If the gloomy pictures on the wall affect people, what do you suppose will be the effect of carrying around gloomy, fearful, hateful, jealous, envious, despondent mental pictures? Can any good come of lugging this trash around with you? Come, now, be honest. Why don't you bundle up these horrible chromos of the mind, and then make a bonfire of the lot. Now is the time for a mental house-cleaning—get to work and clean out these miserable daubs, and replace them with nice bright, cheerful, happy, sunny, mental works of art. Do it to-day. You can't afford to put it off until to-morrow—indeed you can't.
Oh, yes, I know that you have grown attached to some of these old mental pictures—you've had 'em around so long that you hate to part with them. There's that particular miserable one at which you're so fond of looking—you know which one I mean. You see, I know all about it. You've been in the habit of standing before it with folded hands, and gazing, and gazing, and gazing at it. And the more you gazed, the more miserable you grew, until at last you felt that you would like to lie down and die, only that there was some work to do around the house, and you couldn't spare the time. Yes,that'sthe picture I mean. Take it down and put it on top of the bonfire pile, and touch off the whole lot. Then go back into the house and hang up all the new ones to be found, and the brightest one of the lot must hang in the place of that dear old miserable one that you threw out last—that one which was so hard to part with (the meanest one in the lot, always).
And after you have done these things, how good you will feel. See how bright and cheerful the sun is shining; how pure and fresh the air seems—take a good long draught of it; look out the window and see the fleecy white clouds floating across the sky; the sky itself—how blue it is; and just listen to the bluebirds down by the old gate—Spring must be coming. Ah, how good it is to be alive!
A miserable habit—It grows as it is fed—A nuisance to friends and neighbors—It brings to you more of the same kind—You will get what you look for—Looking for trouble brings it—Don't imagine that you are being "put upon"—Don't retail your woes.
Don't retail your woes. Do you think that it does you any good to go around with a long face, telling your tale of woe to everyone whom you can induce to listen to you? Do you think that it does you any good? Do you think it helps you to overcome your troubles, or makes your burden any lighter? No, I don't believe that you think any such things. All your experience teaches you that people do not like to listen to long-drawn-out tales of your troubles—they have enough of their own. Even those who are always ready to lend a helping hand and to give what aid they can to one who needs it resent being made targets for a continuous fusillade of troubles, woes, griefs, etc. And you know very well that a constant repetition of your own woes will only make them seem greater and more real to you. And then the chronic retailer of woe grows to be like the journalist—develops a keen scent for matter to be dished out to others—she needs it in her business. When one gets into this habit of carrying about tales to her friends, she runs out of ready material, and eagerly looks around for more with which to supply the demand. She becomes quite an adept at discovering insults, sneers, double-meaning remarks, etc., on the part of her friends and relatives, where nothing of the kind was intended, and she rolls these things over and over in her mind like sweet morsels before she serves them up with appropriate trimmings, to her listeners.
You will notice that I say "her," in speaking of the victim of this demoralizing habit, and some of my readers of that sex will undoubtedly take me to task for blaming it on the woman instead of the man. Well, you all know my ideas about the equality of the sexes—about their being different, but one being as good as the other, with the odds a little in favor of the woman. But I feel justified in saying that this habit is one that seems to have a special liking for women, and it generally picks out a woman for its victim in preference to a man. When a man acquires this habit, he becomes such a nuisance to his friends and associates that sooner or later he will notice that they avoid him, and the chances are that some blunt fellow will tell him that he has no time for listening to tales of this kind, and that if he, the complainer, would display the same energy in attending to his business that he does to peddling around tales about how badly he has been used, he would not need any sympathy. But woman, God bless her, does not like to hurt the feelings of others in this way—she suffers the infliction in silence, and then tells her friends how she has been bored. She will listen to her woe-retailing friend, and seem to sympathize with her, and say, "Oh, isn't it dreadful;" "how could she speak so harshly of you;" "you poor dear, how you must have suffered;" "how could he have treated you so unjustly," and other things of that kind. But when the visitor goes, she yawns and says, "Dear me, if Mrs. Groan would only try to say something more cheerful; she gives me the horrors with her tales about her husband, her relatives, her friends, and everybody else." But Mrs. Groan never seems to see the point, and she adds to her list of people who have "put upon her," as she goes along, her tired-out friends being added to the number, as their patience wears out.
And then the effect upon the woman herself. You know the effect of holding certain lines of thoughts; of auto-suggestion; of the attractive power of thought, and you can readily see how this woman makes things worse for herself all the time. She goes around with her mind fixed upon the idea that everybody's hand is against her, and she carries about with her an aura that attracts to her all the unpleasant things in the neighborhood. She goes around looking for trouble, and, of course, she gets it. Did you ever notice a man or a woman looking for trouble, and how soon they found it? The man looking for fight is generally accommodated. The woman looking for "slights" always gets them, whether the giver intends them or not. This sort of mental attitude fairly draws out the worst in those with whom we come in contact. And the predominant thought draws to itself all the corresponding thought within its radius. One who dwells upon the fancied fact that everybody is going around trying to injure him, treat him unkindly, sneer at him, "slight" him, and generally use him up, is pretty sure to find that he has attracted to him enough people who will humor his fancy, and give him what he expects.
In "Thought Force" you will remember, I tell the story of the two dogs. The one dog, dignified and self-respecting, whom no boy ever thinks of bothering. The other dog, who expects to be kicked by every passing boy, and who draws himself up, and places his tail between his legs, and actually suggests the kick to the passing boy. Of course he gets kicked. It's wrong for the boy to do it, I know, but the dog's attitude is too much for the nature of the average boy. And "grown-ups" are built upon the same plan. These people who are going around in the mental attitude which invites unkind treatment, generally manage to find someone who will have his natural meanness drawn out to such a convenient lightning rod. And, in fact, such people often generate harsh feelings in persons who scarcely ever manifest them. Like attracts like in the world of thought, and one draws upon him the things he fears, in many cases.
But one of the most regrettable things about this woe-retailing woman, is the effect the habit has upon her own mind and character. When we understand how one is constantly building up character, adding a little every day, and that our thoughts of the day are the material which are going into our character-structure, it will be seen that it is a matter of the greatest importance what kind of thoughts we think. Thoughts are not wasted. They not only go out in all directions, influencing others—attracting persons and things to ourselves—but they have a creative effect upon our own mind and character. Thought along a certain line will develop certain brain-cells to a great extent, and the cells manifesting the contrary line of thought are allowed to dwindle away and shrivel up. Now, when we have our minds fixed upon the thought that we are long-suffering mortals, and that everyone else is trying to do mean things to us; that we are not appreciated, and that those who should care most for us are only biding their time until they can hurt us; we are building up our minds along that line, and we find ourselves in the habit of looking for the worst in everybody, and we often manage to bring it to the surface, even if we have to dig hard for it.
Some of this class of people seem to take a particular delight in bringing upon their head the harsh words and "slights" of others. Now, I really mean this. I have seen people go around with that "I'm a worm of the dust, please tread on me" air, and the same expression as that in the eyes of the dog which expected to be kicked. And when somebody would be nagged into saying or doing something that they would not otherwise have thought of, the woe-seeker's eyes would assume an expression of "I told you so," and "It's only poor me," and "It's all I can expect, everybody wishes to crush me," and a few other assorted thoughts of that kind. And then she will go to her room and moan and weep, and dwell upon her miseries until they seem to be as large as a mountain. And then the first chance she gets she will run around the corner to a friend, and will retail all the new stock of woes which she has accumulated, with fancy trimmings, you may feel sure, and the friend will try hard to avoid showing that she is bored at the tale she has so often heard, but will say nice little things, until the mourner is sure that the whole world sympathizes with her, and she feels a glow of righteous indignation, self-pity and martyrdom. Oh, the pity of it all! These people go through the world, making things harder for themselves, their friends, their relatives, and everyone else with whom they come in contact. They are constantly seeking to keep their stock fresh and attractive, and display more energy in their retailing than the average man or woman does in business.
This thing of looking for trouble is a very unfortunate thing in families. As a rule, I think that woman gets the worst of it in family troubles. The economic position places her at a disadvantage, and she often suffers all sorts of horrible things, rather than have her troubles made public. But I must say thatsomewomen bring upon themselves all that they get. I have known them to get in a frame of mind in which they could see nothing but unkindness, where the utmost kindness was meant. Man is not an angel—far from it—but the attitude of some women is enough to bring out all the qualities other than angelic. They assume that they are "put upon" and live up to that idea. Every word that the man says is twisted and distorted into something entirely different from what he intended. The mental attitude produces moral astigmatism, and things are seen at the wrong angle. All the little things that happen are promptly retailed to some mischief-making neighbor, who is in the game for the excitement it affords her, and who laughs at the wife behind her back, and talks about her in turn to some third person. And the wife fairly draws upon herself all sort of things that never would have happened otherwise. She knows that her neighbor is waiting for to-day's budget of news, and she, almost unconsciously, shapes things so that the facts justifying the news are forthcoming. Did you ever notice that woman who keeps her troubles to herself does not have nearly as much bickering and strife in her household as the one who has acquired the retailing habit?
Don't retail your woes. Keep them to yourself, and they will die, but spread them, and they will grow like weeds. You are making things worse for yourself—are drawing things to you—and are spoiling your mind, disposition and character by this miserable business of retailing woes.
There is in each of us a potential Something for expression—The Something Within—The plant of life—No use trying to repress it, for develop it must—Life has a meaning—Growth, development and unfoldment—The lesson of life.
There is in each of us a potential Something, pressing forth for expression and growth in the direction of ultimate Good—casting off sheath after sheath in its progressive development and unfoldment—impelled by the impulse imparted by the Primal Cause—attracted upward by the Absolute.
Failing to understand this impulse of the growing Something—seeking relief from its steady pressure—we look upon it as an intruder, and instead of allowing it to develop and grow naturally, we endeavor to kill it, or to train its growth after our own petty notions. We fail to see that this Something is like unto the plant which grows on steadily and surely, from seed to blossom, until its potentialities are fully expressed. We do not realize that this Plant of Life should be allowed to grow as does the lily, freely and without restraint, unfolding leaf after leaf, until the plant stands in its complete beauty, crowned with its divine flower.
We would train the plant into some fantastic shape—dwarf it as the Chinese do the oak, that it may become the pretty ornament of the parlor instead of the noble monarch of the forest. We would have it growour way, not according to the law of its being. We fancy that we know what is best for it, losing sight of the fact that deep down in the subconscious depths of its being reposes that which directs its every effort toward the Good—forgetting that its attraction toward the Absolute is drawing it steadily and irresistibly in the right direction. We forget that the plant will fulfill these impulses so long as there remains in it one atom of life. The seed in the ground will express itself in its little shoot, often moving weights a thousand times heavier than itself in its efforts to reach the rays of the sun. The sapling may be bent and confined to the ground, but its branches, following the laws of its being will instinctively shoot upward. Restrict the growth of the plant, if you can, but, nevertheless, it will move along the lines of least resistance and grow toward the sun, in spite of your efforts.
And so it is with the Plant of Life—the Something within us. We are afraid to allow it to grow according to the laws of its being, but wish to model it and shape it in accordance with the theories of ourselves or others (more frequently the latter, for most of our ideas on the subject are borrowed). We seem to imagine that the Intelligence that thought the plant into existence did not understand its business, and we are afraid that without the assistance of our mighty intellect the poor thing will grow into a misshapen and unsightly thing. We would alter the shape designed by its Maker, and would twist it into the form approved of by the passing fashion of the hour. We would substitute for the beauty and symmetry of Nature, our own fantastic ideas of form.
But, like the plant, this Something of ours will not submit to the confining bonds—will not conform to the false standards which we would set up for it. Submitting as long as it must, it stores up reserve strength day by day and keeps up a continuous steady pressure in the direction of its desire, and some day, by a supreme effort, it throws off the interfering obstacles, and, obeying the laws of its being, again grows toward the Sun.
Life is growth. It moves along, pressing this way and that way, along the lines of least resistance, drawing to itself that which it needs for its complete expression and growth, using this thing and that thing to-day, and discarding them to-morrow, after they have served their purpose—after their helpful qualities have been extracted. It assumes many forms in its growth, discarding sheath after sheath as outgrown. Any attempt to compel it to retain a sheath, which has become outgrown, will cause its life nature to revolt, and, in the end, with a mighty effort, it will burst forth, tearing the confining sheath into fragments. This Something may be restrained temporarily, but its growth is as sure as the rising of to-morrow's sun, and its attempted restraint only results, in the end, in a violent assertion of its right to unfold and develop according to Law.
When we finally come to realize that Life has a meaning—that we are here for a purpose—that the process of spiritual evolution is being expressed in us and through us—that our growth is in accordance with Law—that the Absolute understands its business—then will we cease to attempt to meddle with the Great Plan. We will then cease our futile efforts to mold to our absurd and arbitrary shapes that which is intended to grow in the beautiful form of Nature's designing. We will realize that the power which called into being this Life of ours, knew just what it was about—that this Power placed within that Life the energy which is expressing itself in changing form and color, but which has but one real object—growth toward the sun, and when we realize this truth we will begin to have Faith, and will trust the Law to do that which is best to be done—will realize the folly of imagining that the weight of the Universe rests upon our shoulders. Some of these days we will awaken to the fact that ours is the conceit of the fly resting upon the mighty revolving wheel, imagining that the fanning of his wings causes the wheel to revolve. Some of these times the fly, tired with its exertions, will stop to rest for a few moments, when it will find that the wheel continues to revolve quite well, thank you, without its active assistance. We have been taking our little selves quite seriously, indeed. The Something within is moving steadily and surely toward its goal, and much of the pain of life comes to us by reason of our efforts to restrict it—our efforts to change its motion, direction, speed. It is a mighty aid to those who understand and move along with it—but woe unto those who get in its way and endeavor to obstruct its progress. If unobstructed, there is no friction—if interfered with it manifests friction, which means pain.
This pain is the notice given us by the Law to the effect that we are obstructing the growth of the Life Plant, and, if we are wise, we will heed the warning. By conforming to the growth we will find that there is little or no friction, and life begins to take on new pleasures. By co-operating with the Law, and moving along with it, we will find that things will "come our way" in a most unexpected manner. The Law is a good friend and helper, and is of the greatest assistance to us, if we but trust it to do its work well, in its own good way. We can use its growing force to aid us in our daily pursuits, if we will trust it and move along with it, but we must heed the first sign of friction and understand that we are in some way interfering with its natural growth. By living in accordance with the Law, instead of attempting to oppose it, we will find that we are guided in the direction of places, people and occupations best suited to develop us and to impart to us the experience needed to round out our lives. A realization of this fact by those who have experienced it, has given rise to the saying "nothing everhappens." We find the teachers and helpers that we require, and they find us. If we need certain information, we will find it in some person or book, and will thus be placed upon the track of that which we seek.
The Law will sometimes accomplish its results in ways far different from that which we would have supposed to be the best, but after time has passed we can look back and will see that the way by which the results were accomplished was the best possible under all the circumstances. We may meet with some bitter disappointments, losses, sorrows, but in the end these things will be seen as good—will be seen as having been necessary to give us the experience needed—to round out our characters—to enable us to understand.
There are none who would be willing to part with the experience gained from even the most painful events of their lives. After, say, ten years have elapsed no man would be willing to have the memory and recollection of his greatest pain eradicated; if at the same time he would have to part with the experience and knowledge which have come to him by reason of that pain. The pain and its resulting experience have become a part of us, and we are not willing to be robbed of our own.
And we will realize, in looking backward, that if we had been living in accordance with the Law in the past—if we had understood its workings—these very sorrows, disappointments, losses, would have been considered only in view of their ultimate good, and the very sting of the pain would thus have been removed. When we learn to regard the pain of to-day as we now do the pain of ten years ago, we may feel that we are beginning to understand something of the operation of the Law of Good. And when we reach this stage, we will find that the pain is no longerpain, but only a form of Good. When we cease to cause friction, friction no longer exists for us.
The lessons of lifemustbe learned, sooner or later. It depends upon us whether they shall be forced upon us, in spite of our resistance, with much pain, or accepted by us, understandingly, with knowledge. In one case we will have the pain which comes from opposing the Law; in the other, we will learn the lesson equally well, without the pain of the birching. Thelesson must be well learned in either case. Choose your method.
Now, I do not wish to be understood as meaning that we should simply fold our hands and wait for the Law to bring all things to us without any labor on our part. Try this way, though, if you like, and see how quickly the Law will rap you over the knuckles to remind you that a task is set before you. The proper way is to take up the task that lies nearest your hand (and some task isalwaysthere) and do it well, with the knowledge that the task has been placed there in accordance with the Law. If the task is not to your liking, you will know that that is the very reason that it has been placed before you—you have a lesson to learn from it. When the time comes for a change you will find a strong desire for a something else full-grown within you. Now is your chance. Trust to the Law to aid you in working out your desire. The desire is there in accordance with the Law—its very existence is a promise of its fulfillment. With the aid of the Law you will work out your desire. It is true that when you attain the object of your desire, it may not be just what you had thought it—may not be at all what you want. Well, what of that? You have learned the necessary lesson—have lived out the desire and will now outlive it. Something else will take its place. And you will be surprised at thewaythat Law has brought about the accomplishment of your desire. You will learn another lesson in this.
When you have learned to work on, merrily—doing your best—living out each day's life—with Faith and Trust, Confidence and Fearlessness—accepting the development of each day as meaning ultimate Good—seeing andfeelingthat the Law of Good is in full operation—being willing to accept whatever it may bring you—then, and not until then, good friend, will you begin to know what is LIFE.
Faith necessary in every human undertaking—You have faith in man, but are afraid to trust GOD—The Universe if governed by Law—The Law is in operation everywhere—Don't be afraid—You are a part of the plan—Fall in with the Law—Have faith, have faith.
When you take a journey by rail, you step into the car, settle yourself, take out a book and read, and give little or no thought to the engine or engineer in charge of the train. You go rushing across the country at the rate of fifty miles an hour, with no thought of possible disaster or accident, and for the time forgetting that there is such a person in existence as the engineer. You have absolute faith in the careful management of the road, and in the intelligence of the man who has been placed in the engine. The lives of yourself and hundreds of fellow passengers are practically in the hands of one man, and that man is a stranger to you—you have never seen him—you know nothing of his qualifications—you only know that the management has picked him out to safely conduct you across the country.
You take a steamship to Europe and place yourselves in the hands of a few men who are total strangers to you. You stake your life on their skill, judgment and intelligence. You feel that they would not be where they are unless the management of the line considered them competent. It is all a matter of trust—of confidence. The same thing is true when you take your seat on a trolley car or on the elevated railroad, or even in a stage coach or a private carriage. In each case you place yourself in the charge of another person in whom you have a certain amount of confidence, although he may be comparatively, or wholly, unknown to you.
You place your wealth in a bank, having confidence in its management. You have business dealings with men whom you scarcely know, trusting to their honesty of purpose. In every transaction in life you are compelled to have confidence in people. Your lawyer, your physician, your grocer, your clerks are all taken on faith. One cannot get away from it. If confidence were destroyed the wheels of modern life would stop in a minute. The so-called hard-headed practical man may sneer at Faith, but it underlies every manifestation of the life of this civilization.
Man has faith and confidence in Man, but is afraid to trust GOD. He looks about him and sees millions of worlds, each in its appointed place, each revolving in its own orbit. He has faith that at a certain time each world will be in a certain position, which position may be calculated centuries in advance—but he lacks faith in the Power that created these worlds and keeps them in their places. He has faith in certain Laws—but he doubts the existence of the Law-maker. He sees the wondrous manifestation of Life in great and small. He takes advantage of the telescope and the microscope and explores new regions, and finds the Law in operation everywhere—but he doubts the existence of a great Law which governs his life—his incomings and his outgoings—his great deeds and his petty acts—he fails to realize the truth of the saying that the hairs on his head are numbered, and that not a sparrow may fall unnoticed.
He seems to think that if there is a GOD, he must have made the world and then ran away and left it to take care of itself. He fails to see that Law must govern Man's life as it governs the unfolding of the leaf, the development of the lily. He fails to see that law is in full operation within him as well as without him. He fails to see that as he opposes the operation of Law, pain comes by reason of the friction. He fails to see that the only true philosophy is that which teaches one to fall in with the operations of Law, and to let it work in him and through him.
Do you think for a moment that GOD does not know what he is about? Do you doubt the Supreme Intelligence which knows all things and is conscious of all things? Do you doubt the Supreme Power which manifests itself in all forms of power? Do you doubt the Universal Presence which is in all places at all times? Do you suppose that the manifestation is everything, and the manifestor nothing? Poor man!
Either the Universe is without Law—without meaning—without reason, or it is the manifestation of Supreme and Infinite Reason. Either it is the work of a Demon who sits somewhere and grins and gloats over our misfortunes—our trials—our troubles—our pain—our follies, or it is the work of an All-knowing—All-powerful—All-present Intelligence-Power-Presence which has taken into consideration everything within the Universe, down to the tiniest thing—down to the merest detail. And if this last be true, then everything that happens must be in accordance with Law—everything that happens to us must be the very best thing that could happen to us at that particular time and that particular place.
Things are not run by blind chance—there is Law under everything. Everything has some connection with every other thing—every person has a relationship with every other person. All is One—the manifestations are varied, but there is but One reality. There is a great plan underlying all Life, and Life itself is in accordance with that plan. Nothing everhappens. Every occurrence has a bearing on every other occurrence. Chance has no part in the plan—everything is in accord with well ordered laws. There is always an end in view in every thought, word or act. We are constantly being used for the benefit of the whole. There is no escape—and when we get toknowwe cease to wish to escape. He who understands not Law is constantly struggling, striving, fighting and contending against it, and, producing friction, he feels pain. He who understands something of Law ceases to contend against it—he lets it work through him, and is carried along with a mighty force, doing each day the best he knows how, expressing himself in the best possible manner, sailing to the right and to the left, with the wind and against the wind, but still being borne on by the mighty current and resisting it not. He enjoys every mile of the journey, seeing new sights and hearing new sounds—moving on ever. He who understands not, rebels at being swept along—he wishes to stay where he is, but there is no such thing as staying—life is motion—life is growth. If you prefer to pull against the tide—to row up stream—by all means do so. After a while you will grow tired and weary, and will rest on your oars. Then you will find that you are moving on just the same toward the unknown seas, and you will find that it is much easier work rowing or sailing with the current, or from one side of the river to another, than to attempt to stay in the same place or to pull up the stream.
All this fretting—all this worrying—all this contention and strife, comes from a lack of Faith. We may assert fervently that we know that All is Good, and that all is best for us, etc., etc., but have we enough faith to manifest it in our lives? See how we endeavor to tie on tothings, people, and environments. How we resist the steady pressure that is tearing us loose, often with pain, from the places to which we have wished to stay fastened like a barnacle. The Life force is back of us, urging us along—pushing us along—and move we must. The process of growth, development and unfoldment is going on steadily. What's the use of attempting to resist it? You are no more than a water-bug on the surface of the river. You may dart here and there, and apparently are running things to suit yourself without reference to the current, but all the time you are moving along with it. The water-bug plan is all right, just so long as we do not attempt to stop the current or to swim right against it—when we try this we find out very quickly that the current has something to say about it, and before long we get so tired that we are willing to fall in with the law behind the current. And yet even the opposition is good, for it teaches us that the current is there—we gain by experience. The New Thought does not teach people to stem the current or to swim up stream, although some teachers and some students seem to be of that opinion. On the contrary, the real New Thought teaches us of the existence of the stream, and that it is moving steadily toward the Sea of Good. It teaches us how to fall in with it, and be borne further along, instead of attempting to hold back and become barnacles, or to try to push back up the stream. It also teaches us to live in the Now—to enjoy the darting backward and forward over the face of the waters. It also tells us of the direction in which the current is moving, that we may move along that way, without wasting our energies in trying to go the other. It teaches us co-operation with Law, instead of opposition to it.
Why do we not have Faith? Why do we not see the great Plan behind it all? Why do we not recognize Law? As we have seen, we place our confidence in the engineer of the train—the pilot—the captain—the coach-driver, and the other guiding hands and yet we hesitate to trust ourselves in the hands of the Infinite. Of course, it makes no difference to the Infinite whether or not we repose trust in it. It moves along just the same, guiding and directing—steering and regulating speed—it minds not our doubts and obstructions any more than does the great driving-wheel mind the fly who is perched upon it and who does not like the movement and attempts to stop it by spreading out its wings and buzzing. The great wheel of the Universe is moving around, steadily and mightily. Let us go with it. And while we are going let us spare ourselves the trouble and folly of the buzzing, wing-spreading business.
Let us part with Fear and Worry. Let us cease our imagining that we can run the Universe better than the engineer who has his hand on the throttle. Let us cease imagining that GOD needs advice on the subject. Let us stop this folly of saying "Poor God, with no one to help him run things." Let us trust the engineer. Let us have faith—let us have faith.
Do to-day's tasks now—Don't try to do to-morrow's work to-day, but be sure and do the day's work Now—The baneful effects of procrastination—Not fair to yourself—Demoralization attendant upon putting off things—The world looking for people who can do things Now.
If you have anything to do—do it. If you have any task to perform to-day—do it Now. If the matter cannot possibly be performed to-day, stop bothering about it, and get to work doing the things of to-day. But don't get into that miserable habit of putting off things until later in the day, or later in the week—do themnow. The old proverb: "Procrastination is the thief of time," is true, but it does not go far enough. Procrastination is not only the thief of time, but the thief of energy—the thief of efficiency—the thief of success.
We have had much to say about living in the Now—about not dwelling in the past or fretting about the future. And all this is true, and I will probably say it over and over again during the year, because I believe in it, and wish you to get acquainted with the idea. But living in the Now does not merely mean the thinking of the thoughts of to-day—the carrying of the burdens of to-day—the meeting of the problems of to-day. It also means the doing of the WORK of to-day.
To attempt to carry last year's burdens—or next week's burdens—to-day, is folly of the worst kind, as you well know. But it is equally foolish to put off to-day's work until to-morrow. It's not treating to-morrow right—not giving it a chance. The Self of to-morrow is not exactly the Self of to-day. That is, it has grown a little and is the Self of to-day plus the added experience of the day. And it is just as selfish for the Self of to-day to attempt to throw his burdens upon the Self of to-morrow as it would be for you to attempt to throw your burdens upon your brother or sister. It is not only selfish, but it is hurtful to you—it impedes your growth. To-day's work is set before you because of the lesson it contains, and if you refuse to accept your lesson, you are the loser. You cannot get away from the task. It will be placed before you again and again until it is performed, and you might as well do it at once, and get your lesson at the proper time, and not be compelled like the schoolboy to "catch-up" in his work. By putting off things until to-morrow, you are simply heaping up troubles for yourself to-morrow, as to-morrow's own work will have to be done as well as your leftover tasks, and the chances are that neither of them will be done properly. There's no sense whatever in this habit of procrastinating. It is folly of the worst kind.
And not only in the immediate effects is procrastination hurtful to one. One of the worst features of the case is the demoralizing effect it has upon the whole mental attitude of the man. It cultivates laziness, indecision, shiftlessness, slackness and many other undesirable habits of thought and action. It manifests itself in numberless ways in the character of the man who has allowed himself to be tangled in it. It impairs his efficiency—affects his value.
Then again, you are really unfair to yourself if you get in the way of putting off things. You never have any time to yourself if you have a number of old matters demanding your attention. The man who procrastinates is never able to spare time for mental improvement, because he always has some old loose ends to wind up—some old tangle to straighten out. And he loses all idea of the value of time—of getting the most out of every hour, every minute. The procrastinator is the veriest drudge—he has his nose to the grindstone all the time. He never has any time he can call his own. He is a slave to his own habit of "laying things aside." Poor man.
I am satisfied that half the failures of life—yes, three-quarters of them—are due to the failure of persons to do the thing Now. Not only because of what they lose directly by this habit, but because of the effect it produces upon their character. The shiftless habit of thought manifests itself in action. The thought and action, long persisted in, will lead to a demoralization of the entire character of the individual. He soon forgets how to do things right. And that is where so many people fail. The world is looking for people who can DO things—and who can Do Them Now.
If you are one of the procrastinating kind, start in at once and get over it. Put up a sign before your desk, your sewing machine, your work-bench, or wherever you spend most of your time, and have these words in big black letters on the sign:—"DO IT NOW!" By carrying the thought of this NOW way of doing things, and letting it manifest itself in action as frequently as possible, you will find that before long your entire mental attitude regarding work has changed, and you will find yourself doing things when they should be done, without any particular effort on your part. The mind can be trained and taught to do things right. It needs a little courage, a little perseverance, a little will-power, but the result will pay you for your trouble. Start in to cure yourself of this bad habit. Start in at once. Do it NOW.
Marconi's wireless messages—Vibrations reach only the instruments attuned to the sender—The same law in operation on the mental plane—The correct pitch is the thing—Get in tune with the proper vibrations—Get the messages from the best senders.
I have just finished reading an account of Marconi's wireless telegraphy. It seems that when a message is sent from the Marconi transmitter, the vibrations travel in all directions, and not alone in the direction of the person to whom the message is sent. It would seem to the reader, at first, that any instrument, in any direction from the sender, could and would be affected by the vibrations and would take up and record them. But such is not the case, for Marconi finds that he can attune his receiving instrument to a certain pitch, and that the instrument will receive and record only vibrations emanating from a sending instrument attuned to the same pitch. This is true no matter how near the instruments may be to each other, or in what direction they may be from each other. And all instruments, irrespective of number, that may be within sending distance, will receive the message providing they are attuned to the same pitch.
Now just notice how much this corresponds to what we know of the working of Thought-force. People whose minds are attuned to a certain pitch will receive the vibrations from the minds of others whose mental keynote is the same. And if one maintains a high positive keynote, he will not be affected by the vibrations emanating from the mind of another who may have a low negative pitch. The nearer to our pitch the mind of another may be, the more we feel the sympathetic vibrations in our own mind; the greater the difference in the pitch, the less we will feel in sympathy with him. This will account for the instinctive likes or dislikes that many of us experience when coming into the presence of other people. And how soon do people of kindred vibrations seek out and find each other in a mixed assembly. Many likes, unexplainable by any theory of personal appearance, etc., arise from this cause.
And as the Marconi instruments may have their pitch changed, so are our mental keynotes changed from time to time as we adjust ourselves to new conditions—as we grow. This will explain why two people, who at one time seemed to be in perfect attunement with each other, will drift apart until at last they seem to have scarcely a thought or feeling in common, and yet both of them may be good people, really anxious to be helpful to the other.
But this is not the only way in which the working of the Marconi system resembles the workings of the mind. I have often called your attention to the fact that the holding of certain mental attitudes resulted in the attraction to oneself of thought vibrations corresponding to the general character or the thought held in the mind of the person. Let a man be filled with the spirit of Jealousy, and everything seems to feed that feeling. He hears of cases of faithlessness on the part of other persons; every circumstance seems to confirm him in his belief. The actions of the loved one seem doubly suspicious—signs of guilt are seen in every expression, every move. He draws to himself the thought-waves of other minds vibrating on the same pitch—like attracts like. Let a man drop into the Fearthought condition, and immediately he feels the rush of Fear to his mind. Let him cast aside Fear, and attune himself to the Fearless pitch, and he feels an influx of Courage, Fearlessness, Confidence, Energy and other positive thoughts.
And according to the character of your thoughts, will you draw to yourself people calculated to co-operate with you and be of assistance to you. Even things seem to shape themselves to fit in with the keynote you have sounded.
Not only do you attract to yourself people and things corresponding with your mental pitch, but you send out thought-waves affecting others creating impressions upon them. Go into the presence of an "I Can and I Will" man, and, if you are of the same kind, he will instantly perceive it and will be glad to talk to you. On the other hand, approach a man of this kind, with your mind full of "I Can't," and he will be conscious of inharmony and will want to be rid of your presence at once. Be a man with the southern exposure, such as I described to you in another article, and you will find that you will extract and draw to yourself all the sunniness in the nature of people with whom you come in contact. Be a human wet blanket, such as I have described in another article, and you will find that you will get the meanest qualities inherent in the nature of people with whom you come in contact—in fact you will be able to attract only that kind of people who are as musty and unwholesome as yourself.
Get rid of the old negative notes. Start in and cultivate the positive, joyous, active vibrations, until you reach the steady mental pitch of the "New Thought" man. Then will all the negative vibrations pass you by, finding no encouragement to enter your mentality—then will you receive the bright, cheerful, happy, fearless vibrations coming from others who have reached the same plane of thought.
Get in tune—get in tune.
A new toxin—The microbes in the thoughts we think—The new anti-toxin—Thoughts may poison—Fear causes paralysis—Hate causes insanity—Fear and Hate have killed their thousands—Gates' experiments—How to overcome the poison of bad-thinking.
In these days of toxin and anti-toxin—of poison in sausages, oysters, canned beef, ice cream—of anti-toxin serums (that often are more deadly than the original toxin) for the prevention and cure of tuberculosis, leprosy, pneumonia, typhoid fever, tetanus, bubonic plague, diphtheria, and the rest of the list, it requires courage to call the attention of the public to a new "toxin," even if at the same time we furnish an anti-toxin that "anti-toxicates."
We shudder at the thought of microbes and bacilli—and thereby attract them to us; we filter our drinking water, after boiling all the life out of it; we develop into microbe hunters, and see poison in everything we wear, eat, drink or breathe. But we overlook the microbes in the thoughts we think. We encourage the enterprising doctor in his giddy chase after the nimble dollar, as he produces anti-toxin serums to order. The poor, broken-down cart horse is worked overtime in producing filthy pus and serum for the serum-maniac to inject into our circulation. But we overlook the pure, harmless, powerful anti-toxin obtained fresh from the cells of the brain—Right Thinking.
That Thoughts may poison, is a well-proven fact. Depressing thoughts interfere with the cerebral circulation, impairing the nutrition of the cells and nerve centers. The result is that the organs and tissues manifest lost or impaired function—loss of general nutrition follows—and a break-down is inevitable. Fear, worry, anger, envy, jealousy, and other negative thoughts, reflect themselves most disastrously in the human system. Fear has paralyzed nerve centers, and turned the hair white over night. A mother's milk has been poisoned by a fit of anger. Fear and Hate—father and son—have produced insanity, idiocy, paralysis, cholerina, jaundice, sudden decay of teeth, fatal anaemia, skin diseases, erysipelas, and eczema. Epidemics owe their rapid spread and heavy death rate to Fear and Ignorance. Epidemics may kill their dozens—Fear kills its thousands. All the brood of negative, fearful, selfish, hateful thoughts manifest themselves in physical conditions. Stigmata or marks upon the body, caused by fear or desire, are quite common in the annals of medical science and psychology.
Professor Gates, of the Smithsonian Institution, Washington, D.C., in his investigation of the effect of mental states upon the body, found that irascible, malevolent and depressing emotions generated in the system injurious compounds, some of which were extremely poisonous; he also found that agreeable, happy emotions, generated chemical compounds of nutritious value, which stimulated the cells to manufacture energy. He says: "Bad and unpleasant feelings create harmful chemical products in the body which are physically injurious. Good, pleasant, benevolent feelings create beneficial chemical products which are physically healthful. These productsmay be detected by chemical analysisin the perspiration and secretions of the individual. More than forty of the good, and as many of the bad, have been detected. Suppose half a dozen men in a room. One feels depressed, another remorseful, another ill-tempered, another jealous, another cheerful, another benevolent. Samples of their perspiration are placed in the hands of the psycho-physicist. Under his examination they reveal all these emotional conditions distinctly and unmistakably." Remember, this is not "the airy fancy of some enthusiastic Mental Scientist," but is the testimony of a leading scientific investigator in the laboratories of the Smithsonian Institution, one of the best known scientific institutions of the world. "Chemical analysis," mind you—not "transcendental imaginings."
Now I have said enough about the toxin and some little about the anti-toxin of the Mind. I might go on for hours, stating example after example; illustration after illustration, but the tale would be just the same. Now what are you going to do about it? Are you going to keep on poisoning yourself and those around you with vile, malignant thoughts reeking with the miasmatic effluvia of Hate—emitting the noxious exhalation of Fear and Worry? Or will you cease being a psychic pest-house, and begin to fumigate and disinfect your Mind? And after getting rid of all the microbes of Fear and Worry and the bacilli of Hate, Jealousy and Envy, open wide the windows of the Mind and admit the bright Sunshine of Love, and the bracing air of Confidence and Fearlessness.
Come, friends, let us get out of this habit of poisoning the air with Fear, Worry and Hate Thought. Let us join the ranks of the Don't Worry company—the Fearless brigade—the invincible, conquering army of Love. Let us be bright, cheerful and happy—the other things are not worth while. Let us be Confident, Expectant, Hopeful and Fearless—these things are winners. Let us be filled with Love for all men—and we will find that Life is one sweet song. Love, Faith and Fearlessness, are the ingredients of Life's great Anti-Toxin. Try it and be blessed.