With our knowledge of the powerful effect which an idea produces, we shall see the importance of exercising a more careful censorship over the thoughts which enter our minds. Thought is the legislative power in our lives, just as the will is the executive. We should not think it wise to permit the inmates of prisons and asylums to occupy the legislative posts in the state, yet when we harbour ideas of passion and disease, we allow the criminals and lunatics of thought to usurp the governing power in the commonwealth of our being.
In future, then, we shall seek ideas of health, success, and goodness; we shall treat warily all depressing subjects of conversation, the daily list of crimes and disasters which fill the newspapers, and those novels, plays and films which harrow our feelings, without transmuting by the magic of art the sadness into beauty.
This does not mean that we should be always self-consciously studying ourselves, ready to nip the pernicious idea in the bud; nor yet that we should adopt the ostrich's policy of sticking our heads in the sand and declaring that disease and evil have no real existence. The one leads to egotism and the other to callousness. Duty sometimes requires us to give our attention to things in themselves evil and depressing. The demands of friendship and human sympathy are imperious, and we cannot ignore them without moral loss. But there is a positive and a negative way of approaching such subjects.
Sympathy is too often regarded as a passive process by which we allow ourselves to be infected by the gloom, the weakness, the mental ill-health of other people. This is sympathy perverted. If a friend is suffering from small-pox or scarlet fever you do not seek to prove your sympathy by infecting yourself with his disease. You would recognize this to be a crime against the community. Yet many people submit themselves to infection by unhealthy ideas as if it were an act of charity—part of their duty towards their neighbours. In the same way people deliver their minds to harrowing stories of famine and pestilence, as if the mental depression thus produced were of some value to the far-away victims. This is obviously false—the only result is to cause gloom and ill-health in the reader and so make him a burden to his family. That such disasters should be known is beyond question, but we should react to them in the manner indicated in the last chapter. We should replace the blank recognition of the evil by the quest of the means best suited to overcome it; then we can look forward to an inspiring end and place the powers of our will in the service of its attainment.
Oh, human soul, as long as thou canst so,Set up a mark of everlasting lightAbove the heaving senses' ebb and flow ...Not with lost toil thou labourest through the night,Thou mak'st the heaven thou hop'st indeed thy home.
Autosuggestion, far from producing callousness, dictates the method and supplies the means by which the truest sympathy can be practised. In every case our aim must be to remove the suffering as soon as possible, and this is facilitated by refusing acceptation to the bad ideas and maintaining our own mental and moral balance.
Whenever gloomy thoughts come to us, whether from without or within, we should quietly transfer our attention to something brighter. Even if we are afflicted by some actual malady, we should keep our thought from resting on it as far as we have the power to do so. An organic disease may be increased a hundredfold by allowing the mind to brood on it, for in so doing we place at its disposal all the resources of our organism, and direct our life-force to our own destruction. On the other hand, by denying it our attention and opposing it with curative autosuggestions, we reduce its power to the minimum and should succeed in overcoming it entirely. Even in the most serious organic diseases the element contributed by wrong thought is infinitely greater than that which is purely physical.
There are times when temperamental failings, or the gravity of our affliction, places our imagination beyond our ordinary control. The suggestion operates in spite of us; we do not seem to possess the power to rid our minds of the adverse thought. Under these conditions we should never struggle to throw off the obsessing idea by force. Our exertions only bring into play the law of reversed effort, and we flounder deeper into the slough. Coué's technique, however, which will be outlined in succeeding chapters, will give us the means of mastering ourselves, even under the most trying conditions.
Of all the destructive suggestions we must learn to shun, none is more dangerous than fear. In fearing something the mind is not only dwelling on a negative idea, but it is establishing the closest personal connection between the idea and ourselves. Moreover, the idea is surrounded by an aura of emotion, which considerably intensifies its effect. Fear combines every element necessary to give to an autosuggestion its maximum power. But happily fear, too, is susceptible to the controlling power of autosuggestion. It is one of the first things which a person cognisant of the means to be applied should seek to eradicate from his mind.
For our own sakes, too, we should avoid dwelling on the faults and frailties of our neighbours. If ideas of selfishness, greed, vanity, are continually before our minds there is great danger that we shall subconsciously accept them, and so realise them in our own character. The petty gossip and backbiting, so common in a small town, produce the very faults they seem to condemn. But by allowing our minds to rest upon the virtues of our neighbours, we reproduce the same virtues in ourselves.
But if we should avoid negative ideas for our own sakes, much more should we do so for the sake of other people. Gloomy and despondent men and women are centres of mental contagion, damaging all with whom they come in contact. Sometimes such people seem involuntarily to exert themselves to quench the cheerfulness of brighter natures, as if their Unconscious strove to reduce all others to its own low level. But even healthy, well-intentioned people scatter evil suggestions broadcast, without the least suspicion of the harm they do. Every time we remark to an acquaintance that he is looking ill, we actually damage his health; the effect may be extremely slight, but by repetition it grows powerful. A man who accepts in the course of a day fifteen or twenty suggestions that he is ill, has gone a considerable part of the way towards actual illness. Similarly, when we thoughtlessly commiserate with a friend on the difficulty of his daily work, or represent it as irksome and uncongenial, we make it a little harder for him to accomplish, and thereby slightly diminish his chances of success.
If we must supervise our speech in contact with adults, with children we should exercise still greater foresight. The child's Unconscious is far more accessible than that of the adult; the selective power exercised by the conscious mind is much feebler, and consequently the impressions received realise themselves with greater power. These impressions are the material from which the child's growing life is constructed, and if we supply faulty material the resultant structure will be unstable. Yet the most attentive and well-meaning mothers are engaged daily in sowing the seeds of weakness in their children's minds. The little ones are constantly told they will take cold, will be sick, will fall down, or will suffer some other misfortune. The more delicate the child's health, the more likely it is to be subjected to adverse suggestions. It is too often saturated with the idea of bad health, and comes to look on disease as the normal state of existence and health as exceptional. The same is equally true of the child's mental and moral upbringing. How often do foolish parents tell their children that they are naughty, disobedient, stupid, idle or vicious? If these suggestions were accepted, which, thank Heaven, is not always the case, the little ones would in very fact develop just these qualities. But even when no word is spoken, a look or a gesture can initiate an undesirable autosuggestion. The same child, visited by two strangers, will immediately make friends with the one and avoid the other. Why is this?—Because the one carries with him a healthful atmosphere, while the other sends out waves of irritability or gloom.
"Men imagine," says Emerson, "that they communicate their virtue or vice only by overt actions, and do not see that virtue and vice emit a breath every moment."
With children, above all, it is not sufficient to refrain from the expression of negative ideas; we must avoid harbouring them altogether. Unless we possess a bright positive mind the suggestions derived from us will be of little value.
The idea is gaining ground that a great deal of what is called hereditary disease is transmitted from parent to child, not physically but mentally—that is to say, by means of adverse suggestions continually renewed in the child's mind. Thus if one of the parents has a tendency to tuberculosis, the child often lives in an atmosphere laden with tuberculous thoughts. The little one is continually advised to take care of its lungs, to keep its chest warm, to beware of colds, etc., etc. In other words, the idea is repeatedly presented to its mind that it possesses second-rate lungs. The realisation of these ideas, the actual production of pulmonary tuberculosis is thus almost assured.
But all this is no more than crystallised common-sense. Everyone knows that a cheerful mind suffuses health, while a gloomy one produces conditions favourable to disease. "A merry heart doeth good like a medicine," says the writer of the Book of Proverbs, "but a broken spirit drieth the bones." But this knowledge, since it lacked a scientific basis, has never been systematically applied. We have regarded our feelings far too much aseffectsand not sufficiently ascauses. We are happy because we are well; we do not recognise that the process will work equally well in the reverse direction—that we shall be well because we are happy. Happiness is not only the result of our conditions of life; it is also the creator of those conditions. Autosuggestion lays weight upon this latter view. Happiness must come first. It is only when the mind is ordered, balanced, filled with the light of sweet and joyous thought, that it can work with its maximum efficiency. When we are habitually happy our powers and capabilities come to their full blossom, and we are able to work with the utmost effect on the shaping of what lies without.
Happiness, you say, cannot be ordered like a chop in a restaurant. Like love, its very essence is freedom. This is true; but like love, it can be wooed and won. It is a condition which everyone experiences at some time in life. It is native to the mind. By the systematic practice of Induced Autosuggestion we can make it, not a fleeting visitant, but a regular tenant of the mind, which storms and stresses from without cannot dislodge. This idea of the indwelling happiness, inwardly conditioned, is as ancient as thought. By autosuggestion we can realise it in our own lives.
We saw that an unskilled golfer, who imagines his ball is going to alight in a bunker, unconsciously performs just those physical movements needful to realise his idea in the actual. In realising this idea his Unconscious displays ingenuity and skill none the less admirable because opposed to his desire. From this and other examples we concluded that if the mind dwells on the idea of an accomplished fact, a realised state, the Unconscious will produce this state. If this is true of our spontaneous autosuggestions it is equally true of the self-induced ones.
It follows that if we consistently think of happiness we become happy; if we think of health we become healthy; if we think of goodness we become good. Whatever thought we continually think, provided it is reasonable, tends to become an actual condition of our life.
Traditionally we rely too much on the conscious mind. If a man suffers from headaches he searches out, with the help of his physician, their cause; discovers whether they come from his eyes, his digestion or his nerves, and purchases the drugs best suited to repair the fault. If he wishes to improve a bad memory he practises one of the various methods of memory-training. If he is the victim of a pernicious habit he is left to counter it by efforts of the will, which too often exhaust his strength, undermine his self-respect, and only lead him deeper into the mire. How simple in comparison is the method of Induced Autosuggestion! He need merely think the end—a head free from pain, a good memory, a mode of life in which his bad habit has no part, and these states are gradually evolved without his being aware of the operation performed by the Unconscious.
But even so, if each individual difficulty required a fresh treatment—one for the headache, one for the memory, one for the bad habit and so on—then the time needful to practise autosuggestion would form a considerable part of our waking life. Happily the researches of the Nancy School have revealed a further simplification. This is obtained by the use of a general formula which sets before the mind the idea of a daily improvement in every respect, mental, physical and moral.
In the original French this formula runs as follows: "Tous les jours, à tous points de vue, je vais de mieux en mieux." The English version which Coué considers most satisfactory is this: "Day by day, in every way, I'm getting better and better." This is very easy to say, the youngest child can understand it, and it possesses a rudimentary rhythm, which exerts a lulling effect on the mind and so aids in calling up the Unconscious. But if you are accustomed to any other version, such as that recommended by the translators of Baudouin, it would be better to continue to use it. Religious minds who wish to associate the formula with God's care and protection might do so after this fashion: "Day by day, in every way, by the help of God, I'm getting better and better." It is possible that the attention of the Unconscious will thus be turned to moral and spiritual improvements to a greater extent than by the ordinary formula.
But this general formula possesses definite advantages other than mere terseness and convenience. The Unconscious, in its character of surveyor over our mental and physical functions, knows far better than the conscious the precise failings and weaknesses which have the greatest need of attention. The general formula supplies it with a fund of healing, strengthening power, and leaves it to apply this at the points where the need is most urgent.
It is a matter of common experience that people's ideals of manhood and womanhood vary considerably. The hardened materialist pictures perfection solely in terms of wealth, the butterfly-woman wants little but physical beauty, charm, and the qualities that attract. The sensitive man is apt to depreciate the powers he possesses and exaggerate those he lacks; while his self-satisfied neighbour can see no good in any virtues but his own. It is quite conceivable that a person left free to determine the nature of his autosuggestions by the light of his conscious desire might use this power to realise a quality not in itself admirable, or even one which, judged by higher standards, appeared pernicious. Even supposing that his choice was good he would be in danger of over-developing a few characteristics to the detriment of others and so destroying the balance of his personality. The use of the general formula guards against this. It saves a man in spite of himself. It avoids the pitfalls into which the conscious mind may lead us by appealing to a more competent authority. Just as we leave the distribution of our bodily food to the choice of the Unconscious, so we may safely leave that of our mental food, our Induced Autosuggestions.
The fear that the universal use of this formula would have a standardising effect, modifying its users to a uniform pattern, is unfounded. A rigid system of particular suggestions might tend towards such a result, but the general formula leaves every mind free to unfold and develop in the manner most natural to itself. The eternal diversity of men's minds can only be increased by the free impulse thus administered.
We have previously seen that the Unconscious tide rises to its highest point compatible with conscious thought just before sleep and just after awaking, and that the suggestions formulated then are almost assured acceptation. It is these moments that we select for the repetition of the formula.
But before we pass on to the precise method, a word of warning is necessary. Even the most superficial attempt to analyse intellectually a living act is bound to make it appear complex and difficult. So our consideration of the processes of outcropping and acceptation has inevitably invested them with a false appearance of difficulty. Autosuggestion is above all things easy. Its greatest enemy is effort. The more simple and unforced the manner of its performance the more potently and profoundly it works. This is shown by the fact that its most remarkable results have been secured by children and by simple French peasants.
It is here that Coué's directions for the practice differ considerably from those of Baudouin. Coué insists upon its easiness, Baudouin complicates it. The four chapters devoted by the latter to "relaxation," "collection," "contention," and "concentration," produce in the reader an adverse suggestion of no mean power. They leave the impression that autosuggestion is a perplexing business which only the greatest foresight and supervision can render successful. Nothing could be more calculated to throw the beginner off the track.
We have seen that Autosuggestion is a function of the mind which we spontaneously perform every day of our lives. The more our induced autosuggestions approximate to this spontaneous prototype the more potent they are likely to be. Baudouin warns us against the danger of setting the intellect to do the work of intuition, yet this is precisely what he himself does. A patient trying by his rules to attain outcropping and implant therein an autosuggestion is so vigilantly attentive to what he is doing that outcropping is rendered almost impossible. These artificial aids are, in Coué's opinion, not only unnecessary but hindersome. Autosuggestion succeeds when Conscious and Unconscious co-operate in the acceptance of an idea. Coué's long practice has shown that we must leave the Unconscious, as senior partner in the concern, to bring about the right conditions in its own way. The fussy attempts of the intellect to dictate the method of processes which lie outside its sphere will only produce conflict, and so condemn our attempt to failure. The directions given here are amply sufficient, if conscientiously applied, to secure the fullest benefits of which the method is capable.
Take a piece of string and tie in it twenty knots. By this means you can count with a minimum expenditure of attention, as a devout Catholic counts his prayers on a rosary. The number twenty has no intrinsic virtue; it is merely adopted as a suitable round number.
On getting into bed close your eyes, relax your muscles and take up a comfortable posture. These are no more than the ordinary preliminaries of slumber. Now repeat twenty times, counting by means of the knots, the general formula: "Day by day, in every way, I'm getting better and better."
The words should be uttered aloud; that is, loud enough to be audible to your own ears. In this way the idea is reinforced by the movements of lips and tongue and by the auditory impressions conveyed through the ear. Say it simply, without effort, like a child absently murmuring a nursery rhyme. Thus you avoid an appeal to the critical faculties of the conscious which would lessen the outcropping. When you have got used to this exercise and can say it quite "unself-consciously," begin to let your voice rise or fall—it does not matter which—on the phrase "in every way." This is perhaps the most important part of the formula, and is thus given a gentle emphasis. But at first do not attempt this accentuation; it will only needlessly complicate and, by requiring more conscious attention, may introduce effort. Do not try to think of what you are saying. On the contrary, let the mind wander whither it will; if it rests on the formula all the better, if it strays elsewhere do not recall it. As long as your repetition does not come to a full-stop your mind-wandering will be less disturbing than would be the effort to recall your thoughts.
Baudouin differs from Coué as to the manner in which the formula should be repeated. His advice is to say it "piously," with all the words separately stressed. No doubt it has its value when thus spoken, but the attitude of mind to which the word "pious" can be applied is unfortunately not habitual with everyone. The average man in trying to be "pious" might end by being merely artificial. But the child still exists in the most mature of men. The "infantile" mode of repeating the formula puts one in touch with deep levels of the Unconscious where the child-mind still survives. Coué's remarkable successes have been obtained by this means, and Baudouin advances no cogent reason for changing it.
These instructions no doubt fall somewhat short of our ideal of a thought entirely occupying the mind. But they are sufficient for a beginning. The sovereign rule is to make no effort, and if this is observed you will intuitively fall into the right attitude. This process of Unconscious adaptation may be hastened by a simple suggestion before beginning. Say to yourself, "I shall repeat the formula in such a manner as to secure its maximum effect." This will bring about the required conditions much more effectively than any conscious exercise of thought.
On waking in the morning, before you rise, repeat the formula in exactly the same manner.
Its regular repetition is the foundation stone of the Nancy method and should never be neglected. In times of health it may be regarded as an envoy going before to clear the path of whatever evils may lurk in the future. But we must look on it chiefly as an educator, as a means of leavening the mass of adverse spontaneous suggestions which clog the Unconscious and rob our lives of their true significance.
Say it with faith. When you have said it your conscious part of the process is completed. Leave the Unconscious to do its work undisturbed. Do not be anxious about it, continually scanning yourself for signs of improvement. The farmer does not turn over the clods every morning to see if his seed is sprouting. Once sown it is left till the green blade appears. So it should be with suggestion. Sow the seed, and be sure the Unconscious powers of the mind will bring it to fruition, and all the sooner if your conscious ego is content to let it rest.
Say it with faith! You can only rob Induced Autosuggestion of its power in one way—by believing that it is powerless. If you believe this it becomes ipso facto powerless for you. The greater your faith the more radical and the more rapid will be your results; though if you have only sufficient faith to repeat the formula twenty times night and morning the results will soon give you in your own person the proof you desire, and facts and faith will go on mutually augmenting each other.
Faith reposes on reason and must have its grounds. What grounds can we adduce for faith in Induced Autosuggestion? The examples of cures already cited are outside your experience and you may be tempted to pooh-pooh them. The experiment of Chevreul's pendulum, however, will show in a simple manner the power possessed by a thought to transform itself into an action.
Take a piece of white paper and draw on it a circle of about five inches' radius. Draw two diametersABandCDat right angles to each other and intersecting atO. The more distinctly the lines stand out the better—they should be thickly drawn in black ink. Now take a lead pencil or a light ruler and tie to one end a piece of cotton about eight inches long; to the lower end of the cotton fasten a heavy metal button, of the sort used on a soldier's tunic. Place the paper on a table so that the diameterABseems to be horizontal andCDto be vertical, thus:
Autosuggestion diagram
Autosuggestion diagram
Stand upright before the table with your miniature fishing-rod held firmly in both hands and the button suspended above the pointO. Take care not to press the elbows nervously against the sides.
Look at the lineAB, think of it, follow it with your eyes from side to side. Presently the button will begin to swing along the line you are thinking of. The more your mind dwells easily upon the idea of the line the greater this swing becomes. Your efforts totryto hold the pendulum still, by bringing into action the law of reversed effort, only make its oscillations more pronounced.
Now fix your eyes on the lineCD. The button will gradually change the direction of its movement, taking up that ofCD. When you have allowed it to swing thus for a few moments transfer your attention to the circle, follow the circumference round and round with your eyes. Once more the swinging button will follow you, adopting either a clock-wise or a counter clock-wise direction according to your thought. After a little practice you should produce a circular swing with a diameter of at least eight inches; but your success will be directly proportional to the exclusiveness of your thought and to your efforts to hold the pencil still.
Lastly think of the pointO. Gradually the radius of the swing will diminish until the button comes to rest.
Is it necessary to point out how these movements are caused? Your thought of the line, passing into the Unconscious, is there realised, so thatwithout knowing ityou execute with your hands the imperceptible movements which set the button in motion. The Unconscious automatically realises your thought through the nerves and muscles of your arms and hands. What is this but Induced Autosuggestion?
The first time you perform this little experiment it is best to be alone. This enables you to approach it quite objectively.
The use of particular suggestions outlined in this chapter is of minor importance compared with that of the general formula—"Day by day, in every way, I'm getting better and better." The more deeply Coué pursues his investigations, the more fully he becomes convinced that all else is secondary to this. It is not difficult to make a guess as to why this should be. In the general formula the attention is fully absorbed by the idea of betterment. The mind is directed away from all that hinders and impedes and fixed on a positive goal. In formulating particular suggestions, however, we are always skating on the thin ice round our faults and ailments, always touching on subjects which have the most painful associations. So that our ideas have not the same creative positiveness. However that may be, it is a matter of experience that the general formula is the basis of the whole method, and that all else is merely an adjuvant, an auxiliary—useful, but inessential to the main object.
We have seen that a partial outcropping of the Unconscious takes place whenever we relax our mental and physical control, and let the mind wander; in popular language, when we fall into a "brown study" or a "day-dream." This outcropping should be sought before the special suggestions are formulated.
But again we must beware of making simple things seem hard. Baudouin would have us perform a number of elaborate preparatives, which, however valuable to the student of psychology, serve with the layman only to distract the mind, and by fixing the attention on the mechanism impair the power of the creative idea. Moreover, they cause the subject to exert efforts to attain a state the very essence of which is effortlessness, like the victim of insomnia who "tries his hardest" to fall asleep.
In order to formulate particular suggestions, go to a room where you will be free from interruption, sit down in a comfortable chair, close your eyes, and let your muscles relax. In other words, act precisely as if you were going to take a siesta. In doing so you allow the Unconscious tide to rise to a sufficient height to make your particular suggestions effective. Now call up the desired ideas through the medium of speech. Tell yourself that such and such ameliorations are going to occur.
But here we must give a few hints as to theformthese suggestions should take.
We should never set our faith a greater task than it can accomplish. A patient suffering from deafness would be ill-advised to make the suggestion: "I can hear perfectly." In the partial state of outcropping association is not entirely cut off, and such an idea would certainly call up its contrary. Thus we should initiate a suggestion antagonistic to the one we desired. In this way we only court disappointment and by losing faith in our instrument rob it of its efficacy.
Further, we should avoid as far as possible all mention of the ailment or difficulty against which the suggestion is aimed. Indeed, our own attention should be directed not so much to getting rid of wrong conditions as to cultivating the opposite right ones in their place. If you are inclined to be neurasthenic your mind is frequently occupied with fear. This fear haunts you because some thwarted element in your personality, surviving in the Unconscious, gains through it a perverse satisfaction. In other words, your Unconscious enjoys the morbid emotional condition which fear brings with it. Should you succeed in banishing your fears you would probably feel dissatisfied, life would seem empty. The old ideas would beckon you with promises, not of happiness truly, but of emotion and excitement. But if your suggestions take a positive form, if you fill your mind with thoughts of self-confidence, courage, outward activity, and interest in the glowing and vital things of life, the morbid ideas will be turned out of doors and there will be no vacant spot to which they can return.
Whatever the disorder may be, we should refer to it as little as possible, letting the whole attention go out to the contrary state of health. We must dwell on the "Yes-idea," affirming with faith the realisation of our hopes, seeing ourselves endowed with the triumphant qualities we lack. For a similar reason we should never employ a form of words which connotes doubt. The phrases, "I should like to," "I am going to try," if realised by the Unconscious, can only produce a state of longing or desire, very different from the actual physical and mental modifications we are seeking.
Finally, we should not speak of the desired improvement entirely as a thing of the future. We should affirm that the change has already begun, and will continue to operate more and more rapidly until our end is fully attained.
Here are a few examples of special suggestions which may prove useful.
For deafness: Having closed the eyes and relaxed body and mind, say to yourself something of this nature: "From this day forth my hearing will gradually improve. Each day I shall hear a little better. Gradually this improvement will become more and more rapid until, in a comparatively short space of time, I shall hear quite well and I shall continue to do so until the end of my life."
A person suffering from unfounded fears and forebodings might proceed as follows: "From to-day onward I shall become more and more conscious of all that is happy, positive and cheerful. The thoughts which enter my mind will be strong and healthful ones. I shall gain daily in self-confidence, shall believe in my own powers, which indeed at the same time will manifest themselves in greater strength. My life is growing smoother, easier, brighter. These changes become from day to day more profound; in a short space of time I shall have risen to a new plane of life, and all the troubles which used to perplex me will have vanished and will never return."
A bad memory might be treated in some such terms as these: "My memory from to-day on will improve in every department. The impressions received will be clearer and more definite; I shall retain them automatically and without any effort on my part, and when I wish to recall them they will immediately present themselves in their correct form to my mind. This improvement will be accomplished rapidly, and very soon my memory will be better than it has ever been before."
Irritability and bad temper are very susceptible to autosuggestion and might be thus treated: "Henceforth I shall daily grow more good-humoured. Equanimity and cheerfulness will become my normal states of mind, and in a short time all the little happenings of life will be received in this spirit. I shall be a centre of cheer and helpfulness to those about me, infecting them with my own good humour, and this cheerful mood will become so habitual that nothing can rob me of it."
Asthma is a disease which has always baffled and still baffles the ordinary methods of medicine. It has shown itself, however, in Coué's experience, pre-eminently susceptible to autosuggestive treatment. Particular suggestions for its removal might take this form: "From this day forward my breathing will become rapidly easier. Quite without my knowledge, and without any effort on my part, my organism will do all that is necessary to restore perfect health to my lungs and bronchial passages. I shall be able to undergo any exertion without inconvenience. My breathing will be free, deep, delightful. I shall draw in all the pure health-giving air I need, and thus my whole system will be invigorated and strengthened. Moreover, I shall sleep calmly and peacefully, with the maximum of refreshment and repose, so that I awake cheerful and looking forward with pleasure to the day's tasks. This process has this day begun and in a short time I shall be wholly and permanently restored to health."
It will be noticed that each of these suggestions comprises three stages: (1) Immediate commencement of the amelioration. (2) Rapid progress. (3) Complete and permanent cure. While this scheme is not essential, it is a convenient one and should be utilised whenever applicable. The examples are framed as the first autosuggestions of persons new to the method. On succeeding occasions the phrase "from this day forth," or its variants, should be replaced by a statement that the amelioration has already begun. Thus, in the case of the asthmatic, "My breathing is already becoming easier," etc.
Particular suggestions, though subsidiary in value to the general formula, are at times of very great service. The general formula looks after the foundations of our life, building in the depths where eye cannot see or ear hear. Particular suggestions are useful on the surface. By their means we can deal with individual difficulties as they arise. The two methods are complementary.
Particular suggestions prove very valuable in reinforcing and rendering permanent the effects obtained by the technique for overcoming pain, which will be outlined in the next chapter. Before commencing the attack we should sit down, close our eyes and say calmly and confidently to ourselves: "I am now going to rid myself of this pain." When the desired result has been obtained, we should suggest that the state of ease and painlessness now re-established will be permanent, that the affected part will rapidly be toned up into a condition of normal health, and will remain always in that desirable state. Should we have obtained only a lessening of the trouble without its complete removal our suggestion should take this form: "I have obtained a considerable degree of relief, and in the next few minutes it will become complete. I shall be restored to my normal condition of health and shall continue so for the future." Thus our assault upon the pain is made under the best conditions, and should in every case prove successful.
We should employ particular suggestions also for overcoming the difficulties which confront us from time to time in our daily lives, and for securing the full success of any task we take in hand. The use of the general suggestion will gradually strengthen our self-confidence, until we shall expect success in any enterprise of which the reason approves. But until this consummation is reached, until our balance of self-confidence is adequate for all our needs, we can obtain an overdraft for immediate use by means of particular suggestion.
We have already seen that the dimensions of any obstacle depend at least as much upon our mental attitude towards it as upon its intrinsic difficulty. The neurasthenic, who imagines he cannot rise from his bed, cannot do so because this simple operation is endowed by his mind with immense difficulty. The great mass of normal people commit the same fault in a less degree. Their energy is expended partly in doing their daily work, and partly in overcoming the resistance in their own minds. By the action of the law of reversed effort the negative idea they foster frequently brings their efforts to naught, and the very exertions they make condemn their activities to failure.
For this reason it is necessary, before undertaking any task which seems to us difficult, to suggest that it is in fact easy. We close our eyes and say quietly to ourselves, "The work I have to do is easy, quite easy. Since it is easy I can do it, and I shall do it efficiently and successfully. Moreover, I shall enjoy doing it; it will give me pleasure, my whole personality will apply itself harmoniously to the task, and the results will be even beyond my expectation." We should dwell on these ideas, repeating them tranquilly and effortlessly. Soon our mind will become serene, full of hope and confidence. Then we can begin to think out our method of procedure, to let the mind dwell on the means best suited to attain our object. Since the impediments created by fear and anxiety are now removed our ideas will flow freely, our plans will construct themselves in the quiet of the mind, and we shall come to the actual work with a creative vigour and singleness of purpose.
By a similar procedure the problems of conduct which defy solution by conscious thought will frequently yield to autosuggestion. When we are "at our wits' ends," as the saying goes, to discover the best path out of a dilemma, when choice between conflicting possibilities seems impossible, it is worse than useless to continue the struggle. The law of reversed effort is at work paralysing our mental faculties. We should put it aside, let the waves of effort subside, and suggest to ourselves that at a particular point of time the solution will come to us of its own accord. If we can conveniently do so, it is well to let a period of sleep intervene, to suggest that the solution will come to us on the morrow; for during sleep the Unconscious is left undisturbed to realise in its own way the end we have consciously set before it.
This operation often takes place spontaneously, as when a problem left unsolved the night before yields its solution apparently by an inspiration when we arise in the morning. "Sleep on it" still remains the best counsel for those in perplexity, but they should preface their slumbers by the positive autosuggestion that on waking they will find the difficulty resolved. In this connection it is interesting to note that autosuggestion is already widely made use of as a means of waking at a particular hour. A person who falls asleep with the idea in his mind of the time at which he wishes to wake, will wake at that time. It may be added that wherever sleep is utilised for the realisation of particular suggestions, these suggestions should be made in addition to the general formula, either immediately before or immediately after; they should never be substituted for it.
With some afflictions, such as fits, the attack is often so sudden and unexpected that the patient is smitten down before he has a chance to defend himself. Particular suggestions should be aimed first of all at securing due warning of the approaching attack. We should employ such terms as these: "In future I shall always know well in advance when a fit is coming on. I shall be amply warned of its approach. When these warnings occur I shall feel no fear or anxiety. I shall be quite confident of my power to avert it." As soon as the warning comes—as it will come, quite unmistakably—the sufferer should isolate himself and use a particular suggestion to prevent the fit from developing. He should first suggest calm and self-control, then affirm repeatedly, but of course without effort, that the normal state of health is reasserting itself, that the mind is fully under control, and that nothing can disturb its balance. All sudden paroxysms, liable to take us unexpectedly, should be treated by the same method, which in Coué's experience has amply justified itself.
Nervous troubles and violent emotions, such as fear and anger, often express themselves by physical movements. Fear may cause trembling, palpitation, chattering of the teeth; anger a violent clenching of the fists. Baudouin advises that particular suggestions in these cases should be directed rather against the motor expression than against the psychic cause, that our aim should be to cultivate a state of physical impassibility. But since a positive suggestion possesses greater force than a negative, it would seem better to attack simultaneously both the cause and the effect. Instead of anger, suggest that you will feel sympathy, patience, good-humour, and consequently that your bodily state will be easy and unconstrained.
A form of particular suggestion which possesses distinct advantages of its own is the quiet repetition of a single word. If your mind is distracted and confused, sit down, close your eyes, and murmur slowly and reflectively the single word "Calm." Say it reverently, drawing it out to its full length and pausing after each repetition. Gradually your mind will be stilled and quietened, and you will be filled with a sense of harmony and peace. This method seems most applicable to the attainment of moral qualities. An evil passion can be quelled by the use of the word denoting the contrary virtue. The power of the word depends largely upon its aesthetic and moral associations. Words like joy, strength, love, purity, denoting the highest ideals of the human mind, possess great potency and are capable, thus used, of dispelling mental states in which their opposites predominate. The name Reflective Suggestion, which Baudouin applies indifferently to all autosuggestions induced by the subject's own choice, might well be reserved for this specific form of particular suggestion.
The field for the exercise of particular suggestions is practically limitless. Whenever you feel a need for betterment, of whatever nature it may be, a particular suggestion will help you. But it must once more be repeated that these particular suggestions are merely aids and auxiliaries, which may, if leisure is scant, be neglected.
Pain, whether of mind or body, introduces a new element for which we have hitherto made no provision. By monopolising the attention it keeps the conscious mind fully alert and so prevents one from attaining the measure of outcropping needful to initiate successfully an autosuggestion. Thus if we introduce the "no-pain" idea into the conscious, it is overwhelmed by its contrary—pain, and the patient's condition becomes, if anything, worse.
To overcome this difficulty quite a new method is required. If we speak a thought, that thought, while we speak it, must occupy our minds. We could not speak it unless we thought it. By continually repeating "I have no pain" the sufferer constantly renews that thought in his mind. Unfortunately, after each repetition the pain-thought insinuates itself, so that the mind oscillates between "I have no pain" and "I have some pain," or "I have a bad pain." But if we repeat our phrase so rapidly that the contrary association has no time to insert itself, we compel the mind willy-nilly to dwell on it. Thus by a fresh path we reach the same goal as that attained by induced outcropping; we cause an idea to remain in occupation of the mind without calling up a contrary association. This we found to be the prime condition of acceptation, and in fact by this means we can compel the Unconscious to realise the "no-pain" thought and so put an end to the pain.
But the sentence "I have no pain" does not lend itself to rapid repetition. The physical difficulties are too great; the tongue and lips become entangled in the syllables and we have to stop to restore order. Even if we were dexterous enough to articulate the words successfully, we should only meet with a new difficulty. The most emphatic word in the phrase is "pain"; involuntarily we should find ourself stressing this word with particular force, so strengthening in our minds the very idea we are trying to dislodge.
We shall do best to copy as closely as we can Coué's own procedure. The phrase he uses, "ça passe," makes no mention of the hurt; it is extremely easy to say, and it produces an unbroken stream of sound, like the whirr of a machine or the magnified buzz of an insect, which, as it were, carries the mind off its feet. The phrase recommended by Baudouin, "It is passing off," produces no such effect, and in fact defies all our attempts to repeat it quickly. On the whole, the most suitable English version seems to be "It's going." Only the word "going" should be repeated, and the treatment should conclude with the emphatic statement "gone!" The word "going," rapidly gabbled, gives the impression of a mechanical drill, biting its way irresistibly into some hard substance. We can think of it as drilling the desired thought into the mind.
If you are suffering from any severe pain, such as toothache or headache, sit down, close your eyes and assure yourself calmly that you are going to get rid of it. Now gently stroke with your hand the affected part and repeat at the same time as fast as you can, producing a continuous stream of sound, the words: "It's going, going, going ... gone!" Keep it up for about a minute, pausing only to take a deep breath when necessary, and using the word "gone" only at the conclusion of the whole proceeding. At the end of this time the pain will either have entirely ceased or at least sensibly abated. In either case apply the particular suggestions recommended in the previous chapter. If the pain has ceased suggest that it will not return; if it has only diminished suggest that it will shortly pass away altogether. Now return to whatever employment you were engaged in when the pain began. Let other interests occupy your attention. If in a reasonable space, say half an hour, the pain still troubles you, isolate yourself again; suggest once more that you are going to master it, and repeat the procedure.
It is no exaggeration to say that by this process any pain can be conquered. It may be, in extreme cases, that you will have to return several times to the attack. This will generally occur when you have been foolish enough to supply the pain with a cause—a decayed tooth, a draught of cold air, etc.—and so justify it to your reason, and give it, so to speak, an intellectual sanction. Or it may be that it will cease only to return again. But do not be discouraged; attack it firmly and you are bound to succeed.
The same procedure is equally effective with distressing states of mind, worry, fear, despondency. In such cases the stroking movement of the hand should be applied to the forehead.
Even in this exercise no more effort should be used than is necessary. Simply repeat rapidly the word which informs you that the trouble is going, and let this, with the stroking movement of the hand, which, as it were, fixes the attention to that particular spot, be the sum and substance of your effort. With practice it will become easier, you will "drop into it"; that is to say, the Unconscious will perform the adaptations necessary to make it more effective. After a time you should be able to obtain relief in twenty to twenty-five seconds. But the effect is still more far-reaching; you will be delivered from the fear of pain. Regarding yourself as its master, you will be able with the mere threat of treatment to prevent it from developing. You will hang up a card, "No admittance," on the doors of your conscious mind.
It may be that the pain attacks you in the street or in a workshop; in some public place where the audible repetition of the phrase would attract attention. In that case it is best to close the eyes for a moment and formulate this particular suggestion: "I shall not add to this trouble by thinking about it; my mind will be occupied by other things; but on the first opportunity I shall make it pass away," Then as soon as you can conveniently do so make use of the phrase "It's going." When you have become expert in the use of this form of suggestion you will be able to exorcise the trouble by repeating the phrase mentally—at any rate if the words are outlined with the lips and tongue. But the beginner should rely for a time entirely on audible treatment. By dropping it too soon he will only court disappointment.
It sometimes happens that a patient is so prostrated by pain or misery that he has not the energy to undertake even the repetition of the word "going." The pain-thought so obsesses the mind that the state of painlessness seems too remote even to contemplate. Under these circumstances it seems best to employ this strategy. Lie down on a bed, sofa, or arm-chair and relax both mind and body. Cease from all effort—which can only make things worse—and let the pain-thought have its way. After a time your energies will begin to collect themselves, your mind to reassert its control. Now make a firm suggestion of success and apply the method. Get another person to help you, as Coué helps his patients, by performing the passes with the hand and repeating the phrase with you. By this means you can make quite sure of success. This seemingly contradictory proceeding is analogous to that of the angler "playing" a fish. He waits till it has run its course before bringing his positive resources into play.
Baudouin recommends an analogous proceeding as a weapon against insomnia. The patient, he says, should rapidly repeat the phrase, "I am going to sleep," letting his mind be swept away by a torrent of words. Once more the objection arises that the phrase "I am going to sleep" is not such as we can rapidly repeat. But even if we substitute for it some simple phrase which can be easily articulated it is doubtful whether it will succeed in more than a small percentage of cases. Success is more likely to attend us if we avail ourselves of the method of reflective repetition mentioned in the last chapter. We should take up the position most favourable to slumber and then repeat slowly and contemplatively the word "Sleep." The more impersonal our attitude towards the idea the more rapidly it will be realised in our own slumbers.