HOW TO GO TO SLEEP
Sleep sweetly, tender heart in peace!
TENNYSON.
Man craves sleep. If we know of a friend who is suffering in body
or mind we wish him sleep; mothers soothe their pain-racked or
terrified children to sleep with every gentle art known to them;
if, for any reason, man is out of harmony with his life as he sees
it, he instinctively turns to “Nature’s sweet restorer.” It is a
sovereign balm for many ills, yet we seldom recognize wherein its
virtue lies. During his waking hours man is frequently at odds with
his surroundings. He is out of tune with the real things of life and
is apt to mistake the material side of his life for the whole of his
being. But when sleeping he is less hampered with the impressions of
the workaday world, less resistant, and, therefore, more harmonious. It
is in this mental relaxation that the true benefit of sleep consists.
We have as yet no conception of the immense import of suggestion to
ourselves or others as a cure for body or mind. Suggestions may often
be made to a person sound asleep, but they are most effective just at
the time when the reason and the will are losing control of the mind,
although consciousness has not yet lost its grip.
Accordingly it helps our growth to relax the whole nature before going
to sleep and to drop into the mind the thought of peace and harmony;
the assurance that all is and must be well. To do this is to get the
best sort of sleep, the sleep that binds us closer to our fellows and
makes us feel the oneness of all life. This is the sleep from which we
awake refreshed, ready to take up the day’s duties cheerfully. It is an
old country saying, when a person seems what is called “out of sorts”
in the morning, that “he got out on the wrong side of the bed.” But it
is much more likely that he went to sleep in the wrong way: that is, in
an unloving frame of mind.
“Let not the sun go down upon your wrath” has a wider significance
than we usually realize. As a matter of mere physical well-being, if we
have allowed the lack of knowledge or the selfishness of our brother
to annoy or irritate us, it is well to wipe away all traces of that
irritation before lying down to rest. It is well, when possible, to
seek the “little one” we have offended, through our own ignorance or
selfishness, and make our peace by confessing the fault; while, if we
are still self-centered enough to feel that our brother has dealt
harshly with us, we may remove all the sting by thinking lovingly
of him. As the soft answer turneth away wrath, so the soft attitude
turneth out wrath, both from ourselves and from him. Each day should
complete itself. Sufficient unto the day is the good and the evil
thereof, and to attempt to carry over the evil through resentment until
another day is but to lay up trouble for ourselves.
For, after all, it is lack of knowledge or understanding that makes our
brother unkind to us or us to him. Each is doing the best he can, being
such a man as he is. Each of us has still some of that separateness
which makes us regard our own interests as apart from other interests,
or hostile to them. What our brother does, therefore, he does because
it seems to him the best thing for himself. As soon as he sees that
one cannot truly prosper at the expense of another, because we are all
one, he will give up his stupid ways—as we shall give up our stupid
ways when we see that same truth. Until then it is useless to be angry
or upset, for that is only to show that we, too, are unable to see
the oneness of all. As it is bad for our brother that he is so blind,
it were more consistent that we should feel sorrow than anger at his
self-injury.
Epictetus understood that, nineteen hundred years ago, and we have not
become so stupid as to deny it; we only forget. He saw that there is
only one kind of motive in all men—they are moved by what they think is
right and best for themselves. Said he, “It is impossible to judge one
thing best for me and to seek a different one, to judge one thing right
and be inclined towards another.” We all know this about ourselves, but
we do not see it so plainly about others.
If we felt this about all men, we should not have “indignation with
the multitude.” For what are all their wrongdoings? Is it not that they
are “mistaken about the things that are good and evil? Shall we then
be indignant with them, or shall we only pity them?... Show them the
error and we shall see how they will cease from it when they really see
it. But, if they do not see the error, they have naught better than the
deceptive appearance of the thing as it looks to them.” For, argues
Epictetus, “this man who errs and is deceived concerning things of the
greatest moment is blinded, not in the vision that distinguished black
and white, but in the judgment which distinguished Good and Evil.... If
it is the greatest misfortune to be deprived of the greatest things,
and the greatest thing in every man is a _Will_ such as he ought to
have, and if one be deprived of this, why are we still indignant with
him?... We need not be moved contrary to Nature by the evil deeds of
other men. Pity them rather, be not inclined to offense and hatred....
When someone may do us an injury or speak ill of us, remember that he
does it or speaks it, believing that it is meet and best for him to do
so. It is not possible, then, that he can do the thing that appears
best to you, but the thing that appears best to him. Wherefore, if good
appears evil to him, it is he that is injured, being deceived. For, if
anyone takes a true consequence to be false, it is not the consequence
that is injured, but he is injured who is deceived. Setting out, then,
with these opinions, you will bear a gentle mind toward any man who
may injure you. For, say on each occasion, ‘so it appeared to him.’”
Forgive: and if you must blame somebody, blame yourself—you can forgive
yourself so easily.
So we shall find sleep more restful if we leave behind us all the
shortcomings of ourselves and of our fellows, and approach that season
of seeming forgetfulness with love towards all. Calm as an infant’s
sleep will be the slumber of the all-loving man, and for him the new
day will dawn with increased brightness; his strength shall be renewed,
and his joy be more abundant.
If we always lie down to sleep with this attitude, regarding the
darkness not merely as the time when the physical man should rest,
but also as a growing time for the spiritual man, it will not be long
before we adjust our daily life to more harmonious relations with the
universe. The more lovingly we live, the sweeter and sounder will be
our slumber, for so it is that “He giveth his beloved sleep.”