The Circumstances Of Life
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The Freedom Of Life
IT is not the circumstances of life that trouble or weigh upon us,
it is the way we take them. If a man is playing a difficult game of
chess, the more intricate the moves the more thoughtfully he looks
over his own and his opponent's men, and the more fully he is
aroused to make the right move toward a checkmate. If, when the game
became difficult, the player stopped to be depressed and
disheartened, his opponent would
probably always checkmate him;
whereas, in most cases, the more difficult the game the more
thoroughly the players are aroused to do their best, and a difficult
game is invariably a good one,--the winner and the loser both feel
it to be so,--even though the loser may regret his loss. But--the
reader will say--a game of chess is a game only,--neither one's
bread and butter nor one's life depend upon winning or losing it.
If, however, we need to be cool and quiet and trustful for a game,
which is merely an amusement, and if we play the game better for
being cool and quiet and trustful, why is not a quiet steadiness in
wrestling with the circumstances of life itself just as necessary,
not only that we may meet the particular problem of the moment
truly, but that we may gain all the experience which may be helpful
in meeting other difficult circumstances as they present themselves.
We must first convince ourselves thoroughly of the truth that
CIRCUMSTANCES, HOWEVER DIFFICULT, ARE ALWAYS--WITHOUT EXCEPTION,
OPPORTUNITIES, AND NOT LIMITATIONS.
They are not by any means opportunities for taking us in the
direction that our own selfishness would have us go; they are
opportunities which are meant to guide us in the direction we most
need to follow,--in the ways that will lead us to the greatest
strength in the end.
The most unbelieving of us will admit that "there is a destiny which
shapes our ends, rough hew them as we may," and it is in the stupid
resistance to having our ends shaped for us that we stop and groan
at what we call the limitations of circumstances.
If we were quickly alert to see where circumstances had placed the
gate of opportunity, and then steadily persisted in going through
it, it would save the loss of energy and happiness which results
from obstinately beating our heads against a stone wall where there
is no gate, and where there never can be a gate.
Probably there is hardly a reader who will not recall a number of
cases in which circumstances appear to have been only limitations to
him or to his friends; but if he will try with a willing mind to
find the gate of opportunity which was not used, he will be
surprised to learn that it was wide open all the time, and might
have led him into a new and better country.
The other day a little urchin playing in the street got in the way
of a horse, and just saved himself from being run over by a quick
jump; he threw up his arms and in a most cheerful voice called out,
"It's all right, only different!" If the horse had run over him, he
might have said the same thing and found his opportunity to more
that was good and useful in life through steady patience on his bed.
The trouble is that we are not willing to call it _"all right"_
unless it is _the same,_--the same in this case meaning whatever may
be identical with our own personal ideas of what is "all right."
That expressive little bit of slang is full of humor and full of
common sense.
If, for instance, when we expect something and are disappointed, we
could at once yield out of our resistance and heartily exclaim, "it
is all right, only different," how much sooner we should discover
the good use in its being different, and how soon we should settle
into the sense of its being "all right!" When a circumstance that
has seemed to us _all wrong_ can be made, through our quiet way of
meeting it, to appear all right, only different, it very soon leads
to a wholesome content in the new state of affairs or to a change of
circumstances to which we can more readily and happily adjust
ourselves.
A strong sense of something's being "all right" means a strong sense
of willingness that it should be just as it is. With that clear
willingness in our hearts in general, we can adjust ourselves to
anything in particular,--even to very sudden and unexpected
changes. It is carrying along with us a background of powerful
non-resistance which we can bring to the front and use actively at a
moment's notice.
It seems odd to think of actively using non-resistance, and yet the
expression is not as contradictory as it would appear, for the
strength of will it takes to attain an habitual attitude of
wholesome non-resistance is far beyond the strength of will required
to resist unwholesomely. The stronger, the more fixed and immovable
the centre, the more free and adaptable are the circumferences of
action; and, even though our central principle is fixed and
immovable, it must be elastic enough to enable us to change our
point of view whenever we find that by so doing we can gain a
broader outlook and greater power for use.
To acquire the strength of will for this habitual non-resistance is
sometimes a matter of years of practice. We have to compel ourselves
to be "willing," over and over again, at each new opportunity;
sometimes the opportunities seem to throng us; and this, truly
considered, is only a cause for gratitude.
In life the truest winning often comes first under the guise of
failure, and it is willingness to accept failure, and intelligence
in understanding its causes, and using the acquired knowledge as a
means to a higher end, that ultimately brings true success. If we
choose, a failure can always be used as a means to an end rather
than as a result in itself.
How often do we hear the complaint, "I could do so well if it were
not for my circumstances." How many people are held down for a
lifetime by the habitual belief in circumstances as limitations, and
by ignoring the opportunities which they afford.
"So long as I must live with these people I can never amount to
anything." If this complaint could be changed to the resolve: "I
will live with these people until I have so adjusted myself to them
as to be contented," a source of weakness would be changed into a
source of strength. The quiet activity of mind required to adjust
ourselves to difficult surroundings gives a zest and interest to
life which we can find in no other way, and adds a certain strength
to the character which cannot be found elsewhere. It is interesting
to observe, too, how often it happens that, when we have adjusted
ourselves to difficult circumstances, we are removed to other
circumstances which are more in sympathy with our own, thoughts and
ways: and sometimes to circumstances which are more difficult still,
and require all the strength and wisdom which our previous
discipline has taught us.
If we are alive to our own true freedom, we should have an active
interest in the necessary warfare of life. For life is a
warfare--not of persons, but of principles--and every man who loves
his freedom loves to be in the midst of the battle. Our tendencies
to selfish discontent are constantly warring against our love of
usefulness and service, and he who wishes to enjoy the full
activity of freedom must learn to fight and to destroy the
tendencies within himself which stand in the way of his own
obedience to law. But he needs, for this, the truthful and open
spirit which leads to wise self-knowledge; a quiet and a willing
spirit, to make the necessary sacrifice of selfish pride. His quiet
earnestness will give him the strength to carry out what his clear
vision will reveal to him in the light of truth He will keep his
head lifted up above his enemies round about him, so that he may
steadily watch and clearly see how best to act. After periods of
hard fighting the intervals of rest will be full of refreshment, and
will always bring new strength for further activity. If, in the
battle with difficult circumstances, we are thrown down, we must
pick ourselves up with quick decision, and not waste a moment in
complaint or discouragement. We should emphasize to ourselves the
necessity for picking ourselves up immediately, and going directly
on, over and over again,--both for our own benefit, and the benefit
of those whom we have the privilege of helping
In the Japanese training of "Jiu Jitsu," the idea seems to be to
drop all subjective resistance, and to continue to drop it, until,
through the calmness and clearness of sight that comes from quiet
nerves and a free mind, the wrestler can see where to make the fatal
stroke. When the right time has arrived, the only effort which is
necessary is quick, sharp and conclusive. This wonderful principle
is often misused for selfish ends, and in such cases it leads
eventually to bondage because, by the successful satisfaction of
selfish motives, it strengthens the hold of our selfishness upon us;
but, when used in an unselfish spirit, it is an ever-increasing
source of strength. In the case of difficult circumstances,--if we
cease to resist,--if we accept the facts of life,--if we are willing
to be poor, or ill, or disappointed, or to live with people we do
not like,--we gain a quietness of nerve and a freedom of mind which
clears off the mists around us, so that our eyes may see and
recognize the gate of opportunity,--open before us.
It is the law of concentration and relaxation. If we concentrate on
being willing, on relaxing until we have dropped every bit of
resistance to the circumstances about us, that brings us to a quiet
and well-balanced point of view, whence we can see clearly how to
take firm and decided action. From such action the re-action is only
renewed strength,--never painful and contracting weakness. If we
could give up all our selfish desires and resistances,
circumstances, however difficult, would have no power whatever to
trouble us. To reach such absolute willingness is a long journey,
but there is a straight path leading nearer and nearer to the happy
freedom which is our goal.
Self-pity is one of the states that interferes most effectually with
making the right use of circumstances. To pity one's self is
destruction to all possible freedom. If the reader finds himself in
the throes of this weakness and is helped through these words to
recognize the fact, let him hasten to shun it as he would shun
poison, for it is progressively weakening to soul and body. It will
take only slight difficulties of any kind to overthrow us, if we are
overcome by this temptation.
Imagine a man in the planet Mars wanting to try his fortunes on
another planet, and an angel appearing to him with permission to
transfer him to the earth.
"But," the angel says, "of course you can have no idea of what the
life is upon the new planet unless you are placed in the midst of
various circumstances which are more or less common to its
inhabitants."
"Certainly," the Martian answers, "I recognize that, and I want to
have my experience on this new planet as complete as possible;
therefore the more characteristic and difficult my circumstances are
the better." Then imagine the interest that man would have, from the
moment he was placed on the earth, in working, his way through, and
observing his experience as he worked.
His interest would be alive vivid, and strong, from the beginning
until he found himself, with earthly experience completed, ready to
return to his friends in Mars. He would never lose courage or be in
any way disheartened. The more difficult his earthly problem was,
the more it would arouse his interest and vigor to solve it. So many
people prefer a difficult problem in geometry to an easy one, then
why not in life? The difference is that in mathematics the head
alone is exercised, and in life the head and the heart are both
brought into play, and the first difficulty is to persuade the head
and heart to work together. In the visitor from Mars, of course, the
heart would be working with the head, and so the whole man would be
centred on getting creditably through his experience and home again.
If our hearts and heads were together equally concentrated on
getting through our experience for the sake of the greater power of
use it would bring,--and, if we could trustfully believe in getting
home again, that is, in getting established in the current of
ordinary spiritual and natural action, then life would be really
alive for us, then we should actually get the scent of our true
freedom, and, having once had a taste of it, we should have a fresh
incentive in achieving it entirely.
There is one important thing to remember in an effort to be free
from the bondage of circumstances which will save us from much
unnecessary suffering. This has to do with the painful associations
which arise from circumstances which are past and over.
A woman, for example, suffered for a year from nervous exhaustion in
her head, which was brought on, among other things, by
over-excitement in private theatricals. She apparently recovered her
health, and, because she was fond of acting, her first activities
were turned in that direction. She accepted a part in a play; but as
soon as she began to study all her old head symptoms returned, and
she was thoroughly frightened, thinking that she might never be able
to use her head again. Upon being convinced, however, that all her
discomfort came from her own imagination, through the painful
associations connected with the study of her part, she returned to
her work resolved to ignore them, and the consequence was that the
symptoms rapidly disappeared.
Not uncommonly we hear that a person of our acquaintance cannot go
to some particular place because of the painful events which
occurred there. If the sufferer could only be persuaded that, when
such associations are once bravely faced, it takes a very short time
for the painful effects to disappear entirely, much unnecessary and
prolonged discomfort would be saved.
People have been kept ill for weeks, months and years, through.
holding on to the brain impression of some painful event.
Whether the painful circumstances are little or great, the law of
association is the same and, in any case, the brain impression can
be dropped entirely, although it may take time and patience to do
it. We must often talk to our brains as if we were talking to
another person to eliminate the impressions from old associations.
Tell your brain in so many words, without emotion, that the place or
the circumstance is nothing, nothing whatever,--it is only your idea
about it, and the false association can be changed to a true one.
So must we yield our selfish resistances and be ready to accept
every opportunity for growth that circumstances offer; and, at the
same time, when the good result is gained, throw off the impression
of the pain of the process entirely and forever. Thus may we both
live and observe for our own good and that of others; and he who is
practising this principle in his daily life can say from his
heart:--"Now shall my head be lifted up above mine enemies round
about me."