WORK AND PLAY

"Blessed," says Carlyle, "is the man who has found his work. Let him

seek no other blessing."

A man out of work is one of the saddest of all sights. There possibly is

a sadder one, the man who has lost the power to play. The child in whom

the spirit of play has been crushed out is saddest of all.

Work is natural. One who does not love to work is greatly to be pitied.

Fortunately, such people are rare. When a man finds his work and becomes

actively occupied with it he is happy. He, however, often overdoes it

and the difficulty is not to work but to play.

Usually it is thought that there is antagonism between work and play. On

the contrary, they are more alike than most people think.

According to William Morris, "Art is the spirit of play put into our

work." The union of work and play is absolutely necessary to human

nature.

By work we generally mean something that comes as a duty, something

which we are compelled to do or something which we must do from

necessity in order to win a livelihood.

Play is usually regarded as something that is pure enjoyment and

spontaneous. A recent cartoon pictured a boy complaining because his

mother had asked him to carry a small rug up to the top of the house,

then portrayed the same boy, after a ten-mile trudge, climbing a steep

hill with a load of golf sticks, the perspiration streaming down his

face, saying, "This is fine!"

The same task may therefore be regarded as work or play according to the

point of view. The difference is the degree of enjoyment, the attitude

or feeling toward the thing to be done.

We can control our attention, we can look for interesting things in

almost any effort. In either work or play we require a rhythmic

alternation between enjoyment and resolute endeavor.

The principles advocated in this book and its companion, "The Smile,"

should prepare a man for the work and the play of life. Exercises taken

at any time should serve as a remedy for the evil effects of hard work

of any kind.

The exercises give the best preparation for work and because many of

them are taken lying down they do not exhaust but accumulate energy.

They also stimulate and develop a harmony and activity of man's whole

being.

The shortest and best answer that can be made to the question "How to

work" is, to work rhythmically. This is the way Nature works. There is

action and reaction.

The law of rhythm, which has already been explained, must be obeyed in

our every-day tasks. It applies to every step we take.

One of the best results of these exercises is that they develop a sense

of rhythm.

There are many violations of rhythm. One is continuing along one line

too long. Work can be so arranged as to be varied. We can work at one

thing several hours and then we can deliberately drop it until the next

day and take up some other phase of work.

Without rhythm, work becomes drudgery. A more specific violation of

rhythm is a failure to relax and to use force only when needed.

The greatest effect of force comes through action and reaction.

Sometimes a man uses unnecessary parts and uses them continually. That,

of course, will cause weariness.

There are hundreds of questions regarding such discussions in as many

books in our day. Mr. Nathaniel J. Fowler, Jr., in "The Boy," a careful

book which is a treasure house of information, has gathered answers to

leading questions from two hundred and eighty-three prominent men. Many

of these, in fact, most of them, advise a boy, when he is not satisfied

with his work and is pretty sure that he is not adapted to it, to change

his occupation.

It is a difficult point upon which to give advice, but other things

being equal, work should be enjoyed. When not enjoyed there should be a

serious study of the man himself, a study of his attitude toward life, a

study of his possibilities, a study of his opportunities, and also a

study of what he is best fitted for, and an endeavor to find this.

It is surprising, however, how far men can adapt themselves, even change

their very nature in accomplishing a work which is laid upon them as a

duty. One of the greatest artists of New England took care of his

brothers and sisters and his father's farm, at a crisis, and kept a

little shed outside the house where he painted at odd moments. He had an

avocation as well as a vocation. He gave up his trip to study in Europe

as he wished to study; he did a vast amount of work which was regarded

by many as drudgery, and he was compelled to study his art only at odd

moments. Despite all this, George Fuller became one of the most

illustrious and original of American artists. Today his pictures are in

all the leading museums, and command a high price.

What is drudgery? Dr. James Freeman Clark defined it as "work without

imagination." Anything can be made drudgery. A man can study art, or

sing, paint pictures, edit newspapers, or write books and make his work

drudgery. Drudgery is working perfunctorily. It is work without

aspiration, work without an ideal.

No man can do anything well in life, without an ideal. If a man

undertakes a certain work he must begin it by awakening and realizing

the importance of that work in the world's life. He must form a definite

ideal of the best possible way of doing that work and of its relation to

the world.

In short, no man can accomplish anything in a negative, indifferent

attitude toward his work. He must look upon it from the side of its

importance, the side of its beauty, the side that is interesting to him,

the side that shows its influence and helpfulness toward the world.

Play, to the little child--and also to the hard working man--is more

serious than work. When work begins to be perfunctory, play is the only

remedy. In such a case a man is in a dangerous rut and must adopt a new

rhythm.

"All work, and no play, makes Jack," or any other donkey, "a dull boy."

The first principle of play must be to obey our higher impulses. To play

means the ability to change our occupation. It means the ability to

obey other impulses than perfunctory ones.

Some men regard play as something low. On the contrary, notwithstanding

the "recapitulation" theory, play should be a new aspiration, a deeper

assertion of freedom, a higher opportunity for suppressed energies.

To play, certain feelings and conceptions of our nature must be

awakened. Play reveals character even more than work because it shows

the latent impulses of the man. Therefore, if in college, in school, or

in childhood, in playing with companions, the right associations are

brought to bear, the right persons are received as mates, then the very

sympathy and contact with others will cause higher aspirations, deeper

enjoyments, more spontaneous endeavor, and renewal of life. Play is

sub-conscious, it is giving way in some sense, to instinct; but it is

deliberatively giving up. It implies enjoyment but it does not

necessarily imply the gratification of low desire.

Something can be said in favor of athletics. A story is told of a

gentleman who visited his nephew in a large private school. He went

around the athletic field and asked the trainers about his relative.

Then the uncle found the boy in his room, digging. He said, "What are

you doing here? None of the trainers see anything of you. What is the

trouble?" The student answered, "I have been sick and I have been

working hard to catch up." "Get out of this," replied the uncle, "I went

to preparatory school and to college to find friends, to get enjoyment,

to learn how to play, to come in contact with men. That is the serious

business of school and college."

There are some who consider this the very worst of heresies. I used to

think so myself; but contact with students in colleges and universities

has enabled me at least to see the point of view of this gentleman. Many

times I have met men who were not getting the most out of their college

or university course though you could not tell that from their

scholarship or so-called "standing." They lacked the spirit of

enjoyment, the power of initiative. They lacked the power of sympathetic

touch with other men that makes greatly for success in life.

To my mind there are some games which bring no sympathetic touch among

men. Mere games are not always worthy of the name of play. They become

drudgery, and they cause certain constrictions. They fetter the whole

life. They call for perfect silence, call for the exercise of great

mechanical skill. Frequently we find men playing games which are

analogous, if not identical, with their work. Games should be different

from work. They should bring sympathetic enjoyment. They should bring

exultation.

A noted physiologist sent by his government to examine into the physical

training of other countries visited a leading school in England and

found the pupils one morning, during the best hours of the day, at play.

Approaching one of the boys, he asked for the principal, and was

conducted very politely to the master. The visitor was greatly impressed

by the boys. He asked the principal why it was that his boys were

playing during the best part of the day. "Ah," said the principal, "that

is part of our method. We want the best time in the day to be devoted to

their outdoor exercises and sports. We take the utmost care that the

boys shall come into the most sympathetic spirit with each other, and

anything that happens wrong on the playground is to us fully as serious

as what happens in their studies."

There is a universal conception that play is not serious. Children are

allowed to do just as they please. This is a mistake. Froebel has taught

the true spirit and importance of play. Some people consider his

explanations as being purely speculative, if not insane; but the great

majority of those who have really studied child life agree with him.

It is important what games the child is given. The play must be enjoyed.

It should awaken creative energy. It should appeal to the imagination

and feelings and not be a purely mechanical exercise of will. It is

absolutely necessary for the unfoldment of character that the child come

into touch with other minds, and also into contact with things.

Someone has summed up the whole principle in a sentence: "Bring such

objects before the child as will stimulate spontaneous activity." The

objects may be animals, birds, leaves, flowers, balls, sticks, anything

which can awaken human faculties or be turned into a tool.

Arts are given us rather for avocations, for our enjoyment, as a test of

our ability to appreciate the different points of view. Each art, as I

have often tried to say, expresses something that no other art can say,

and he is a cultivated human being who can read all the arts and enjoy

them. The aim of art is to guide our energies in higher directions, and

to stimulate our ideals. Art develops attention and trains us to become

interested in a great variety of directions.

As a proof of this observe the great beauty of nature. We are stirred

to go out of doors, to go into the woods and note the beautiful scene

and the music of the pines that calls us. Nature everywhere seems at

play, seems to invite men to come out into her unlimited playground, the

playground of universal principles and fullness of life.

The poet, Schiller, explained all art as being derived from the play

instinct. It has been said that play is the overflow of life. Life,

love, joy, all noble ideals, must awaken spontaneity or they will not

grow. All parts of man's nature must have expression and not be

repressed. Play is given to stimulate and to express the spontaneous in

us, to manifest emotion and imagination and a sense of freedom. Freedom

is a necessity of all unfoldment. Even the flower must bloom

spontaneously from the energy within. The sun that calls forth the

leaves on all the trees does so by warming the roots in the tree and

bringing the gentle south winds which fan the waving branches into

activity and cause the unfolding buds to be filled with spontaneous

life.

The whole world is full of joy and love. It is human ambition and

jealousies that bring the hindrances.

The rhythmic alternation and the necessary relation of work and play to

each other can be seen in the very constitution of man. Play alone may

develop obedience to lower impulses; while work alone tends to repress

the higher aspirations and spontaneous energies.

Even a man's health and strength as well as success depend upon the

rhythmic alternation of work and play.

While reading over the copy for this book for the last time, when in

that agonizing state which some writers know, undecided whether to throw

it into the fire or send it to the printers, I read at the suggestion of

a friend, Eleanor H. Porter's little book, "Pollyanna." That simple,

wholesome story has given me courage. The fundamental lesson in it is

that we should find always something about which to be glad, no matter

how severe the trial or how disappointing the event.

Goethe gave as rules for a life of culture:--"Every day see some

beautiful picture, hear some beautiful piece of music, read some

beautiful poem." These might develop culture in a narrow sense, but to

broaden and deepen our lives we need every day to see something

beautiful in nature, and in the lives and characters of our fellow

beings.

Dr. Howard Crosby once remarked that by giving ten minutes to the

telegrams of the newspapers any man should be able to keep in touch with

the life of mankind.

The Boy Scouts and the Campfire Girls are emphasizing some important

phases of education and life which have been too often overlooked.

One of the Boy Scout rules implies that every day a boy should perform

some kindly act for others.

The importance of a boy's stepping up to an elderly lady looking for an

electric car and giving her assistance, or carrying a lot of bundles for

someone cannot be too highly emphasized. These boys take no "tips." They

are trained to serve for the sake of the serving. These suggestions and

services awaken the higher nature of the boy or girl. Such movements

should be universally supported.

One of the most important helps to the boys should not be overlooked. In

offering their services they are led to express their best selves. It is

important that they should learn to approach strangers with polite

confidence and courage when offering assistance.

I gave my seat once to a woman in a street car and at first I felt a

little resentful because not by look or word did she express gratitude.

As I glanced at the woman, however, I saw that she really desired to

thank me but was embarrassed. She did not know how to do so. How few are

taught the languages!

If the Boy Scouts and the Campfire Girls do nothing else than to learn

to express their willingness to serve they have made a wonderful gain

for active, useful and successful lives.

Of course, the primary aim is the good deed, but are not the kind tone,

word and polite bow fully as necessary? Are they not the entering wedge

and do they not appeal to the higher nature in the same way that the

thought of being of service inspires the boy or girl?

While doing is the great thing, yet it is necessary to say in union with

doing. There is really no antagonism between expression in kind looks,

tones or words, and acts. They are inseparably connected.

These same principles apply also to the Campfire Girls. They must not

only be trained to do things but trained to realize their own

personalities and to draw out the best in others. Then the actions will

begin to be more expressive of the real personality of the boy or the

girl and the seeing, doing and becoming will form an organic unity.

Someone has said that the great law of education is, first, to know;

second, to do; third, to become. The doing implies not only action, but

expression. Certainly we do not become what we know till we do or

express through word, tone and action.

The most successful men in the world have certain principles to guide

their every-day life. If we could only smile instead of frown, when

people criticize or condemn us, how much more successful would be our

lives!

Every day we can discover something interesting in our fellow-men.

We can learn to listen.

We should work when we work and play when we play. We should not play in

a half-hearted way worrying about our work; and when we work we should

do so with all our might.

We ought to have regular periods of rest; we ought to avoid unpleasant

topics in conversation. Everyone should have a vocation as well as an

avocation.

May we not summarize all these suggestions into a few statements which

will enable us to co-ordinate work and play, and aid us in our daily

lives to obey the principles that should govern us from our first waking

moments? Every Day:

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