Section Ii--Serenity and Poise

As we have seen, not only the body but the mind needs its due activity and rest. As to the mind, the important question is the quality of the activity rather than the quantity. If we are to be really healthy, our mental attitude must be healthy. A healthy mental attitude implies many elements, but they are all roughly summed up in the word "serenity." Probably no other one hygienic requirement is of greater importance than this. Moreover, the attitude of "healthymindedness" should be striven for not only in order to produce health, but as an end in itself, for which, in fact, even health itself is properly sought. In short the health of the body and the health of the mind act and react on each other.

We may generally keep serene through following the other measures already described. Discontent is undoubtedly very often the consequence of wrong conditions in the body, and though melancholy, worry, peevishness, fear generally appear as arising from outward conditions, there are usually real physical sources, existing within the body itself. These are at times most difficult of recognition. A person who is physically ill is likely to be ill-satisfied with everything, without suspecting the fundamental cause of the discontent. When the apparent "cause" is removed, the discontent remains none the less, and fastens itself on the next thing that comes along.

Although some little event such as the mistake of a tradesman or a cross word of a friend may seemingly "cause" a disagreeable reaction in a man if he is ill (whether he knows he is or not), the same "cause" does not necessarily produce that same reaction at all times. When he is in a healthy mood, the "cause" may be entirely inadequate to bring about the same result.

The near approach to the menstrual period in women is often accompanied by mental depression and physical fatigue which it is almost impossible for the sufferer to recognize at the time as caused by anything but "real" or outside misfortunes.

Other physical conditions act in the same way. The hidden cause may be constipation, eye-strain, or the effects of alcohol or other drugs, a sedentary life, a bad posture, or weak abdominal muscles; and the proper remedy may be an enema, a pair of glasses, a vigorous swim, deep breathing exercises or an abdominal supporter, an erect carriage or a general change of daily habits. A young man returning from a surveying trip in the mountains of Colorado in which an ideal hygienic out-of-door life was lived, said, "I never saw so good-natured a crowd of rough men. Nothing ever seemed to make them angry. They were too full of exultant health."

Health for the body awakens mental capacities where they exist. Failure in mental work can often be traced to failure in physical health; and the restoration of bodily health is often essential to success in the tasks of the mind. This is especially true of the artistic professions, where the kind of product is dependent so largely upon the state of the emotions, upon exhilaration and enthusiasm. A noted sculptor who, a number of years ago, was "down and out" in the artistic world, after a period of years "came back" with a masterpiece, having adopted a more hygienic life.

Epictetus taught that no one could be the highest type of philosopher unless in exuberant health. Expressions of Emerson's and Walt Whitman's show how much their spiritual exaltation was bound up with their health conditions and ideals. "Give me health and a day," said Emerson, "and I will make the pomp of emperors ridiculous."

But what most concerns us in this section is that the mind has an important influence over the condition of the body. A Kansas poultryman, who owns a hen which he claims to value at $10,000 because of her qualities as a breeder, a few years ago knew a great deal more about how to maintain the health of his poultry than he did about how to maintain his own health. Long and bitter experience had taught him that he obtained freedom from sickness among hens only by being very careful to feed them on a special diet; to give them drinking water at regular intervals--warmed in winter; to supply them with well ventilated and cleanly houses, and so on. But, after all this, he found there was one condition, which, if unfulfilled, still precluded the realization of maximum possibilities. "A discontented hen won't lay eggs," was the startling discovery. "When I see a man go into the yard and 'holler' loudly at the hens, and wave his arms, making them scatter, frightened, in all directions, I say to that man: 'You call at the office and get your pay and go.' But when I see a man go into the yard, and call gently to the hens, so that they all gather around him and coo and cluck and eat out of his hand, I raise that man's pay."

It can not be too much emphasized that mental perturbation affects the body in many ways. Shame fills our cheeks with blood. Fear drives the blood away. Excitement quickens the heart-beat. Grief brings tears, the reaction of glands about the eyes, and sighs, the disturbances of regular breathing. A great shock to the mind may cause fainting, the rush of blood from the head into the abdomen. Worry will interfere with digestion and sleep. The X-ray has detected the arrest of the peristaltic movement of the stomach and intestines because of a strong emotion. Some peculiarly constituted people, who take their work and obligations with a kind of seriousness that amounts almost to fear, can not eat anything of consequence until their day's work is ended. The digestive processes seem to be at a standstill until then. A curious fact is that strong emotion may lead to a great increase in the sugar in the blood, sometimes enough to cause its appearance in the urine as though the person had diabetes. One man expresses this by saying, "bitterness of soul banishes sweetness even from the body."

It is doubtless on account of such influences of the mind on the body that some persons who have attempted to improve their health by what they call "thoroughly masticating" their food--but who have interpreted this phrase as having a purely mechanical meaning--have wondered why they were not benefited when they forcibly held their food in their mouths until they performed a certain number of chews, while in fact they were making a bore of eating and were forgetting to taste and enjoy. The mind and the emotions refuse to be ignored in this way, and exact due penalty from the body when they are not satisfied. To attain the desired results from any hygienic measure, it is apparently necessary, in some degree at least, to satisfy the mind along with the body.

There is in fact a danger to which some people are especially subject--the danger of becoming hypochondriacs from paying too much attention to physical hygiene. Such a person becomes fearful lest he is not doing exactly the right thing. He looks suspiciously at every article of food and fears that it will disagree. He fears that he has strained his heart; he worries over the loss of an hour's sleep; he chafes because his employer has not given him a vacation at the right time or of the right length. The hypochondriac thus neutralizes practically all the benefit of other hygienic measures by disregarding this special measure of keeping serene. It might, in many cases, be better to disregard some rules of hygiene than to worry over them.

On this theory the devotees of mind-cure cults have derided every hygienic measure but one--their "mind-cure." They sometimes succeed in the "real cure of imaginary ailments," and the "imaginary cure of real ailments." In the latter case, the mental contentment lasts only until the real ailment becomes too aggressive to be ignored. But it is a great mistake to stake everything on the simple resource of mental equanimity. In some cases it is criminal, as for instance to refuse surgery for cancer, or outdoor living for tuberculosis.

In its proper place, "mind-cure" is an essential part of individual hygiene. In order to get the benefit of the other rules, there must be no worrying or watching of symptoms. After the regimen of exercise, baths, diet, etc., has been selected, it must be followed as a matter of course, with confidence that it will help, and with patience as to the rate of improvement which will follow.

It would seem that incessant, even if mild, worry is more exhausting than occasional fits of intense anger or fright or overexcitement, just as we waste more water from a spigot left slightly open all the time than from one which is alternately closed and wide open. Worry, if unceasing, will often drain away the largest store of nervous energy. Worry seems, as it were, to short-circuit nerve currents in the brain, which normally form a long circuit through the body. One man, with this simile before him, has found he can stop worrying almost at will, avoid the supposed continuous short circuit and save up his nervous energy until it is needed.

We must rejoice at things as they are; they might be worse! If we should count up we should be surprised to find how seldom the things we fear or worry about really happen. It is a true proverb that "half the trouble never comes."

Each must learn for himself how best to avoid anger, fear, worry, excitement, hate, envy, jealousy, grief, and all depressing or abnormal mental states. To do so is an art which must be practised, like skating or bicycle-riding. It can not be imparted merely by reading about it.

When, as unfortunately is often the case, the difficulty of maintaining one's serenity seems insuperable, the battle can often be won by "living one day at a time." Almost any one in ordinary conditions of adversity has it within his or her power, for merely one day or at any rate one hour, or one minute, to eliminate the fear, worry, anger, or other unwholesome emotions clamoring to take possession. At the expiration of say the hour, or minute, the same power can be exercised for the next ensuing period, and so on until one is caught napping, after which he must pick himself up and patiently try again.

In modern life, which has been gradually speeded to the breaking-point, many people are suffering from a constant oppressive sense of hurry. Most people have "so much to do," that they can not do it. This fact is of much annoyance and at the same time spurs them on in the vain endeavor to catch up. When once it is realized that the sense of hurry actually reduces the effective speed of work--in other words, that "the more haste, the less speed"--the situation has been reached in which the individual can teach himself some practical philosophy.

An immense help in the field of mental hygiene is to be obtained from religion and philosophy, although this is not the place to advocate any particular form of either, and from the standpoint of hygiene, it does not greatly matter! One may get his chief help from the Bible, from faith-healing cults, from writers like Emerson, from Tagore and other Orientals, or from Marcus Aurelius and Epictetus.

Professor William James commends the adoption of a "religion of healthymindedness" in which we renounce all wrong or diseased mental states, cultivating only the healthy ones, such as courage, patience, optimism, and reverence.

When the mind turns from shadow to sunshine, the body will tend also to assume the radiance of health. Stevenson said that there is no duty we so much underrate as the duty of being happy. The habit of being happy enables one to be freed, or largely freed, from the domination of outward conditions. Though the trait is apparently totally lacking in some, while existing to a high degree in others, experience has shown that conscious cultivation will develop it to an appreciable degree, even in very stubborn cases. As in little Pollyanna's "Glad Game," it is possible to find something to be glad about in every situation in life.

The secret of equanimity consists not so much in repressing the fear or worry, as in dropping or ignoring it--that is, diverting and controlling the attention. It does no good to carry a mental burden. "Forget it!" The main art of mental hygiene consists in the control of attention. Perhaps the worst defect in the Occidental philosophy of life is the failure to learn this control. The Oriental is superior in such self-training. The exceptional man in Western civilization who learns this control can do the most work and carry the most responsibility. On much the same principle as the Indians used when their young men were trained to endure pain self-inflicted, we might well devote a few minutes each day to the difficult task of changing at will our attention from the thing which is engrossing it to anything else we choose; or, what is more difficult still, to blank nothingness. When we have sufficiently strengthened this power, we can turn off the current of our thoughts as we turn off the lights and lie down to sleep in peace, as a trained sailor does in a storm.

If a person's work is drudgery but has to be endured, the making up of the mind to endure it cheerfully, the relinquishment of the doubtful but fascinating pleasure of dwelling upon one's misery, is found to largely obviate the burden. It is the making up of the mind which presents the difficulty. The truth is that we instinctively shrink from making, without reservation, important decisions as to our future course of conduct. We balk even at really committing ourselves not to worry. A man who, when he complained of his lot, was advised to "grin and bear it," replied that he'd have to bear it, but he'd be hanged if he'd grin!

The decision which is perhaps the hardest to make and, at the same time, the most important from the standpoint of health and working-power, is the decision not to care too much about the objects we are seeking to achieve. We need not subscribe to the Nirvana philosophy. A certain intensity of desire is normal, but modern life tends to a morbid frenzied intensity. Most of us need, in the interest of mental health or sanity, to moderate our desires. A business man who had set his heart on fulfilling a large responsibility nearly wrecked his health from worry over the outcome. His wise physician prescribed that, before sitting down to his desk each day, he should spend five minutes repeating and impressing on his mind the words, "I don't give a hang! I don't give a hang!" The truth is many people fail because of over-anxiety lest they fail. Some invalids die from an exaggerated desire not to die.

A helpful precept, when one is failing in some crucial undertaking from his very over-anxiety to succeed, is to replace the ambition to succeed by a determination to pass the crisis unruffled, whether one succeeds or fails, "He that ruleth himself is greater than he that taketh a city," and incidentally if we rule ourselves we are far more likely than otherwise to take the city, if that be possible at all.

An ideal course of conduct implies a constant readiness, after all has been done which can be done, to renounce one's feverish desires and accept whatever higher powers decree, even if it be death. This is one of the supreme aims of every great philosophy or religion. Job (13:15) said, "Though He slay me, yet will I put my trust in Him," and Christ exclaimed, "If it be possible let this cup pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as Thou wilt."