Sources: As A Matter Of Course
IN climbing a mountain, if we know the path and take it as a matter
of course, we are free to enjoy the beauties of the surrounding
country. If in the same journey we set a stone in the way and
recognize our ability to step over it, we do so at once, and save
ourselves from tripping or from useless waste of time and thought as
to how we might best go round it.
There are stones upon stones in every-day life which might be
stepped over with perfect ease, but which, curiously enough, are
considered from all sides and then tripped upon; and the result is a
stubbing of the moral toes, and a consequent irritation of the
nervous system. Or, if semi-occasionally one of these stones is
stepped over as a matter of course, the danger is that attention is
immediately called to the action by admiring friends, or by the
person himself, in a way so to tickle the nervous system that it
amounts to an irritation, and causes him to trip over the next
stone, and finally tumble on his nose. Then, if he is not wise
enough to pick himself up and walk on with the renewed ability of
stepping over future stones, he remains on his nose far longer than
is either necessary or advisable.
These various stones in the way do more towards keeping a nervous
system in a chronic state of irritation than is imagined. They are
what might perhaps be called the outside elements of life. These
once normally faced, cease to exist as impediments, dwindle away,
and finally disappear altogether.
Thus we are enabled to get nearer the kernel, and have a growing
realization of life itself.
Civilization may give a man new freedom, a freedom beyond any power
of description or conception, except to those who achieve it, or it
may so bind him body and soul that in moments when he recognizes his
nervous contractions he would willingly sell his hope of immortality
to be a wild horse or tiger for the rest of his days.
These stones in the way are the result of a perversion of
civilization, and the cause of much contraction and unnecessary
There is the physical stone. If the health of the body were attended
to as a matter of course, as its cleanliness is attended to by those
of us who are more civilized, how much easier life might be! Indeed,
the various trippings on, and endeavors to encircle, this physical
stone, raise many phantom stones, and the severity of the fall is
just as great when one trips over a stone that is not there. Don
Quixote was quite exhausted when he had been fighting the windmills.
One recognizes over and over the truth spoken by the little girl
who, when reprimanded by her father for being fretful, said: "It
isn't me, papa, it's that banana."
There is also the over-serious stone; and this, so far from being
stepped over or any effort made to encircle it, is often raised to
the undue dignity of a throne, and not rested upon. It seems to
produce an inability for any sort of recreation, and a scorn of the
necessity or the pleasure of being amused. Every one will admit that
recreation is one swing of life's pendulum; and in proportion to the
swing in that direction will be the strength of the swing in the
other direction, and vice versa.
One kind of stone which is not the least among the self-made
impediments is the microscopic faculty which most of us possess for
increasing small, inoffensive pebbles to good-sized rocks. A quiet
insistence on seeing these pebbles in their natural size would
reduce them shortly to a pile of sand which might be easily smoothed
to a level, and add to the comfort of the path. Moods are stones
which not only may be stepped over, but kicked right out of the path
with a good bold stroke. And the stones of intolerance may be
replaced by an open sympathy,--an ability to take the other's point
of view,--which will bring flowers in the path instead.
In dealing with ourselves and others there are stones innumerable,
if one chooses to regard them, and a steadily decreasing number as
one steps over and ignores. In our relations with illness and
poverty, so-called, the ghosts of stones multiply themselves as the
illness or the poverty is allowed to be a limit rather than a guide.
And there is nothing that exorcises all such ghosts more truly than
a free and open intercourse with little children.
If we take this business of slipping over our various nerve-stones
as a matter of course, and not as a matter of sentiment, we get a
powerful result just as surely as we get powerful results in
obedience to any other practical laws.
In bygone generations men used to fight and kill one another for the
most trivial cause. As civilization increased, self-control was
magnified into a virtue, and the man who governed himself and
allowed his neighbor to escape unslain was regarded as a hero.
Subsequently, general slashing was found to be incompatible with a
well-ordered community, and forbearance in killing or scratching or
any other unseemly manner of attacking an enemy was taken as a
matter of course.
Nowadays we do not know how often this old desire to kill is
repressed, a brain-impression of hatred thereby intensified, and a
nervous irritation caused which has its effect upon the entire
disposition. It would hardly be feasible to return to the killing to
save the irritation that follows repression; civilization has taken
us too far for that. But civilization does not necessarily mean
repression. There are many refinements of barbarity in our
civilization which might be dropped now, as the coarser expressions
of such states were dropped by our ancestors to enable them to reach
the present stage of knives and forks and napkins. And inasmuch as
we are farther on the way towards a true civilization, our progress
should be more rapid than that of our barbaric grandfathers. An
increasingly accelerated progress has proved possible in scientific
research and discovery; why not, then, in our practical dealings
with ourselves and one another?
Does it not seem likely that the various forms of nervous
irritation, excitement, or disease may result as much from the
repressed savage within us as from the complexity of civilization?
The remedy is, not to let the savage have his own way; with many of
us, indeed, this would be difficult, because of the generations of
repression behind us. It is to cast his skin, so to speak, and rise
to another order of living.
Certainly repression is only apparent progress. No good physician
would allow it in bodily disease, and, on careful observation, the
law seems to hold good in other phases of life.
There must be a practical way by which these stones, these survivals
of barbaric times, may be stepped over and made finally to
The first necessity is to take the practical way, and not the
sentimental. Thus true sentiment is found, not lost.
The second is to follow daily, even hourly, the process of stepping
over until it comes to be indeed a matter of course. So, little by
little, shall we emerge from this mass of abnormal nervous
irritation into what is more truly life itself.