reputation of being a "fire-trap."
As soon as my reasoning-self had time to take in the situation, the
probability of being burned to death seemed almost certain; but before
that happened--that is, before the reasoning-self had analyzed the
situation--the habit-of-thought self had asserted many times, and
constantly, "You _must not be afraid! you must not be afraid_"; and,
as a result, I was _not afraid_; and the calm of the moment allowed me
to measure chances and arrange expedients, as if there were no danger
imminent.
It was a case of much smoke and little fire, but there were those in
the hotel who were made very ill by the fright of it.
If I had always been free from the emotion of fear, and had not been a
sorry victim to it in some special forms, "natural temperament" could
be urged as a cause of the calm I enjoyed during the incident related
above; but such is not the case. I have been subjected to shocks of
various kinds, incident to an adventurous life, that have been powerful
impressions for evil upon my emotional self, and it is personal
experience of cure and relief that I am giving in support of my theory.
The experience of Mr. George Kennan, the Siberian traveler, and
brilliant writer and lecturer, relative to fear and its cure, is
singularly like my own, and was related to me in an exchange of
personal confidences, last year.
The _Atlantic Monthly_ for May, 1897, contains an excellent account
of Mr. Kennan's case, and I am permitted by the publishers, Messrs.
Houghton, Mifflin & Company, to reprint it; which I have done under
Appendix "B."
Fear is rarely general as related to different causes for fearthought.
I have been told of a case of specific fear that is interesting because
of its unreasonableness. It was the case of a filibuster who had been
on several raids where death was the almost certain penalty for being
caught, and where the chances of being caught were almost certain.
On the frontier our subject was known as a dare-devil, not afraid
of anything, and yet he was always in mortal terror of a dark room.
In infancy he had been scared into obedience by tales of goblins in
the dark, and he had never rid himself of their influence. Anything
on earth he could see held no terror for him, but he could not see
the phantoms he created in the dark, and was therefore a slave to
fear of them. It is probable that the bravado of his active life was
partly caused by the desire to "average up" on courage, and, if so,
the baleful effects of fear in this case were very far-reaching and
destructive to the peace of society.
General experience teaches that whenever you find a bully, you find a
yellow streak of cowardice somewhere in his composition; and, more than
probable, bravado is assumed by him, in order to "square" himself with
his own self-respect.
FOOTNOTE:
[5] Two other brochures by Dr. Holcomb are published by the Purdy
Company. They are "Condensed Thoughts about Christian Science" and "The
Power of Thought in the Production and Cure of Disease."
HOW TO ELIMINATE FEAR.
It has been observed that the rooting out of any particular phase
of fearthought, weakens the strength of all of the other phases.
For instance, suppression of _anger_ and _worry_ tends to suppress
all suspicion, and even fear itself, while special attack upon the
fearthought called envy will perceptibly diminish the tendency to
jealousy and avarice. There seems to be such close relationship between
all of the forms of fearthought, that whatever affects one, affects all.
Fear of death undoubtedly underlies all fearthought. Fear of poverty,
fear of accident, fear of sickness, all reach further than these
calamities, to the possibility of death resulting from them. In
this way we can trace all expressions of fear, either directly or
indirectly, through the different forms of selfness, to fearthought of
death.
In _Menticulture_ I suggested the elimination of _anger_ and _worry_
as the roots of all the evil passions. On page 17, however, I gave
"fear" as the tap-root of the evil emotions, including anger and worry,
and stated my reason for attacking the surface roots best known and
associated together, rather than the tap-root itself. It was because
I believed at the time _Menticulture_ was written, with people in
general, that fear was a constituent weakness of all consciousness, and
only expressions of it were eliminable.
I find in my later experience in practice, however, and in conveying
the suggestion to others, that fear itself is possible to be rooted out
by the force of counter-suggestion of one sort or another, and that
there is no mental habit or impression that cannot be counteracted by
some other more powerful habit or impression, and that it is best to
attack the bottom cause of all weaknesses at once, and thereby wage
warfare upon their innermost citadel.
As fearthought is the parent of all the evil emotions, so is fear of
death the first of all the causes of fearthought.
It is not a difficult matter to eliminate the fear of death. It is
first necessary to do away with any dread of a lifeless human body.
There are few who feel dread of the flesh of animals as they see it
hanging in the stalls of the butchers. There is no more reason to have
a feeling of fear in connection with the sight of dead human flesh
than there is to feel uncomfortable in the presence of the flesh of a
lifeless lamb or a lifeless chicken.
There have lived people who were as accustomed to seeing human flesh
exposed in butchers' shops as we are accustomed to see the flesh of
animals so exposed, and there is an engraving of a cannibal meat-stall
in Huxley's "Man's Place in Nature," copied from an old book of travel
to the coast of Africa, which Mr. Huxley offers authoritatively.
The subject may seem to be a grewsome one to many readers, and
reference to the customs of cannibals may shock their supersensitive
habits of thought, but the object is sufficient justification. Such
may, however, soothe their injured feelings by remembering that our
meat-selling and meat-eating customs seem as inhuman to many Buddhists
as do the customs of cannibals to us.
If we value essentials impartially, soul and mind count above
everything, and tissue which they once animated counts for nothing
when they have left it, no matter what have been the associations,
especially if dread of the dead tissue inspires emotions that are
detrimental to the welfare of soul or mind.
My object in suggesting a systematic reversal of our feeling towards
lifeless human flesh is because it is a basic cause of fear. Remove
this dread, and half of the terror of death is removed with it.
In this connection, the suggestion should be urged, that separation--as
in death--is unessential as compared with the privilege of having
known a beloved one, and that appreciation and gratitude should always
outweigh regret in relation to an inevitable change.
All of the observed processes of nature teach that every normal change
is for the better, and the change called death is as normal as the
change called birth. The full term of human life is but a pin-point
in the great span of evolution. How unreasonable it is to protest the
measurement of the breadth of a pin-point with Him who doeth all things
well!
Life is like the ticking of a clock; each passing of the pendulum may
be a day or a year; when the clock strikes, one period only is ended,
but a new period is also begun. Why mourn at the striking of the clock!
A new and happier hour has begun. Why mourn the passing on of a beloved
one! For to Christian, or to Buddhist, as well as to all sentient
beings, a new and a better life has then begun.
The attitude towards the separation called death should be such as
to induce the thought, and even the expression, "Pass on, beloved;
enter into the better state which all of the processes of nature teach
are the result of every change; it will soon be my time to follow;
my happiness at your preferment attend you; my love is blessed with
that happiness; and what you have been to me remains, and will remain
forever. Amen."
Sorrow was dignified by Christ. He has been wrongfully called "The Man
of Sorrow." His sorrow was for the evils which men suffered, and never
was caused by any of the beneficent decrees of the Father. Protest
against the decrees of the Father is blasphemy. Some forms of sorrow
are blasphemy.
Sorrow and optimism do not go together. Christ was (and is) the Supreme
Optimist, and taught nothing but optimism. Tears do not always express
sorrow. Wherein tears express selfishness, especially in the form of
anger, they are bad. Wherein tears are free from selfishness, they may
do no great harm. In such case, what may seem to be sorrow may be an
expression of loving sympathy, and, as such, may be good.
Without careful analysis of the quality of the emotion, love may be
thought to be righteous cause for fearthought. This is a vicious
thought. Nothing is righteous that is harmful, and fearthought is
harmful. Love, without any element of fearthought in it, is infinitely
better than love that is tinctured with fearthought. Forethought is
the necessary accompaniment of perfect love, but fearthought is its
enemy.
Separation can be made to gladden love through self-sacrifice.
Separation--as in death--can be made to gladden love by supreme
self-sacrifice to the beloved one who is preferred by death, and
thereby made to disarm that underlying fear of all fears--the fear of
death.
If, however, the fear of lifeless human flesh is eliminated, the fear
of death itself will be found to be greatly modified. From this point
the elimination of special pet fears, whether of the individual or of
the community sort, will become an easy matter, as the greater is but
the sum of the lesser.
In looking for means with which to attack so great an enemy as fear,
either in one's self or in another, any weapon is a good weapon that
is found to be effective. Logic is more respectable, but such is
the foolishness of many forms of fear that ridicule is more often
effective. Appeal to honor, self-respect, love, logic, ridicule, and to
_fear itself_, may be had in so worthy a cause as the vanquishing of
the arch-enemy of growth and happiness.
Old soldiers sometimes admit that their courage in battle has been the
result of their fear of seeming to be cowards. When the far-reaching
and poisonous effect of the evil of fearthought is properly understood,
and the possibility of its elimination generally believed in, people
will be _afraid_ to be afraid--afraid of ridicule and criticism, as
well as afraid of evil and unhealthful effects. The cure will have been
homoeopathic, in that like has been employed to cure (or kill) like.
Logic is the most rational weapon, but ridicule is sharper. Logic may
not cure a robust woman of the woman-habit-of-thought that a mouse is
a fearsome thing, but reference to the fact that it is ridiculous for
a five-foot woman to be afraid of a two-inch mouse may effect the
result, especially when it is known that the mouse is more afraid of
the woman, according to his capacity for fear, than it is possible for
the woman to be afraid of the mouse.
Acquaintance is another effective cure. It may not be necessary that
all afflicted ones should serve an apprenticeship at undertaking in
order to be cured of fear of a lifeless human body, but if the fear
of a corpse cannot be eradicated by other means, it is worth while to
do that or _anything else_, no matter how uncanny or disagreeable, in
order to accomplish the object. So necessary is the eradication of the
germ principle of fear to the cultivation of growth and happiness, that
if it is found that fear of the lifeless human body cannot be cured
otherwise, even a real apprenticeship in a hospital dissecting-room
would be a profitable expedient as a last resort. To seek the
acquaintance of fearsome insects and animals, through close observation
and study of their habits, is better than to suffer harm from a
needless prejudice against them.
Cure of the fear of one dreaded insect or reptile is sure to modify
the fear of all other things dreaded, so that the difficult part of
the cure is acquiring the belief that it is possible, and making the
resolve to attempt it.
If parents realized the full importance of the eradication of
fearthought from the minds of their children, they would stop
immediately all other occupation, and rest not nor be content until the
germ of fearthought in their children had been located and killed; and
those skilled in such search and cure would become the physicians most
in demand.
HOW TO CURE SPECIAL FORMS OF FEAR.
Exciting interest in the intrinsic beauties and usefulness of things
thought to be disagreeable or dreadful, is an excellent way of curing
fear of them.
I once had an opportunity of experimenting with this method of curing
particular fears by testing it on a mother and children whose _bête
noir_ was a thunderstorm.
I had seen them at the World's Columbian Exposition, wrapt in the
enjoyment of the great displays of fireworks that were operated on the
lake front of the Exposition grounds each evening. I also happened to
be provided with statistics, showing that the chance of being struck by
lightning was only one in a great many thousand, and that if one were
to seek to be struck, he would have to wait about ten thousand years
for his average turn. I recalled the greater real beauty of the natural
fireworks of the summer season, and their comparative harmlessness.
This was the logic of it, and modified somewhat the attitude of the
children, as well as the fear of the mother, relative to lightning and
thunder; but the real cure came through appreciative suggestion and
acquaintance.
On the approach of a storm wherein lightning might be expected, and
even before it was visible, the mother had been in the habit of
assuming a frightened expression, of gathering the children together,
of cowering in a corner, and sometimes in a closet, in fear and
trembling, until the storm had passed. From infancy the children had
been in the habit of associating something fearful with the idea of
lightning and thunder, and had never had a chance to observe their
beauties.
I started in to correct the bad impressions, and to teach the
attractiveness of storm phenomena, by calling out, on the approach
of a storm, somewhat in this wise: "Oh! children, do you remember the
beautiful fireworks at the Exposition? Come here quick! let's watch; we
are going to have something ten times more beautiful, and, oh! such big
booms and bangs. Watch now! ah! that wasn't much, but keep a-watching
and we'll have some beauties. Crash! bang! blizzard! My! but wasn't
that a beauty? Watch sharp, now, or you'll miss the best one,--what!
afraid? Why, Alice, afraid of a beautiful thing like that! Nonsense!
Come here, dear, and sit in my lap and watch out sharp, and then you
_can't_ be afraid. There! that's a little lady. Splendid! I reckon you
know how to enjoy something beautiful, as well as any one. Boom, boom,
boom! Did you ever hear anything so grand? Great big drums up yonder.
I wonder what sort of a Fourth of July they are having? Wouldn't
World's-Fair fireworks seem tame beside this? And think of it!--they
don't cost a cent, and they are clearing the atmosphere so that the sun
will shine brighter to-morrow than it ever did. It will shine for us,
and for the plants, and for the butterflies. My! but aren't we lucky
to have good eyes and good ears when such things are going on! and
don't we pity the poor little blind and deaf children! Does lightning
sometimes strike people and kill them? Why, yes, once in a great,
great long while; but when it does, they say it is the pleasantest
sensation possible. Don't you mind when you have pleasant shivers, what
a delightful feeling it is? Well, they say being struck by lightning
is like that--only more so. I have never had the experience of being
killed by lightning, of course, but when my turn to enter the next
life comes, I hope it will be that way; but the chances of being that
lucky are very slim. Somebody, some great schoolmaster that knows
almost everything, has calculated that if a man wanted to be struck by
lightning he would probably have to wait about ten thousand years. That
is too long. Life is delightful as it is; but if I had to wait even a
thousand years or even an hundred years more for my promotion that way,
I think I would rather choose a more common and less agreeable way";
and so on, governed by the interest and the effect upon the children.
I impressed on them the real beauty of the storm, and taught them
appreciation, to take the place of fear.
It is needless to say that that family no longer dreads the storm
cloud. The suggestion reversed their way of looking at storms, and they
then found great beauty in them and ceased to fear them.
Another experience: I once had the privilege of spending some time in
close relations of friendship to a family composed of a widowed mother
and several children, sons, daughter, nephews and nieces. A sister of
the mother, who was pronounced to be an incurable invalid, had come
from her Northern home to seek relief in the climate of the Southland.
It is impossible to imagine more tender care of an invalid. Each member
of the family vied with the others in offering gentle attentions, so
that the waning life was filled with happiness that made invalidism
almost a pleasure, as being the cause of so much loving consideration.
One morning the life-light flickered for a little and then went out.
The usual funeral preparations which are the custom were attended to,
and the remains were sent away to the far-distant home, and the family
burial-lot.
While the remains were awaiting the appointed time of removal, the
children of the family, of all ages and both sexes, passed in and out
of the death-chamber, by day or by night, as if there had been no
death, and there was not a semblance of dread, nor fearthought nor
mourning. It was such a beautiful expression of loving consideration,
unmarred by dread or fearthought, that one might well choose such a
time and such a place and such environment on the occasion of one's
passing on to the better life.
If it be possible to be a spirit, conscious of material environment,
and in such guise to attend one's own funeral, which would be the
environment of choice? Egotism, disembodied, would undoubtedly choose
a scene of violent mourning, long drawn out, and painful to as many
as possible. Loving Unselfishness would as certainly choose a funeral
scene such as I witnessed in the house of my friends. Which would you
choose? And if, as is most reasonable to suppose from observing the
sequences of nature's processes that show that the seed of a flower
has a more nearly perfect flower enfolded within itself, spirits also
become purer by each unfolding through the release called death, and
being made pure and unegotistic by the change, they must prefer, if
they have the privilege, to have their old home remains viewed with
loving and fearless consideration, rather than with fearsome dread and
ostentatious emotion.
Then let us abjure fear in connection with death, and also in
connection with the mortal remains of the beloved.
If the conventional premises relative to death be correct, the common
attitude towards it is useless; and if the hypothetical premises be
correct, as it is better to suppose, even if we cannot assert it, the
common attitude is worse than useless, for it is both harmful and
unjust. If we cultivate fear and mourning in connection with death,
we are unjust to the dead, we are unjust to the living, we are unjust
to ourselves; and, above all, cruel to the tender and impressionable
emotions of children, to whom we are constantly leaving legacies of
cowardice and ignorant egotism, or legacies of pure suggestion, love
and appreciation.
Much might be written about the subject of this chapter, and many
illustrations could be given wherein illogical fears have been, or can
be, ridiculed away, but inasmuch as some of the following chapters
are mainly devoted to this purpose, it is not necessary to more than
suggest a line of argument under the present caption.
THE NOW-FIELD.
Let us work together for a season in the Now-Field.
We cannot work in any other field, but we can and do waste much
valuable time in trying to work in the past or in the future, and in so
doing neglect the precious now.
For recreation we may pleasantly, and perhaps profitably, speculate as
to what there may be in the way of atoms finer than star-dust, and as
to the possible degree of invisibleness of the ultimate ether. We may
also exercise and strengthen our imagination by trying to give form to
the Source of it all. Tiring of guessing in these directions, we may
vary our recreation by attempts to peep under or through the veil which
Nature so persistently holds between the present conscious life and
the one we hope for beyond the veil. It can do no harm to think form
into a forgotten past and into an uncertain future, if, in so doing,
the vital and superprecious now be well guarded against the things we
know to be deterrent to the best growth of the life-plant.
In considering the duty of the now, let us, for convenience of
comparison, liken life to an agricultural season of one year's
duration. We find, in ourselves, that the seed from which we have
unfolded has already been sown, and the life-plant pretty well
grown before we attain consciousness of duty and begin to think
independently. If we are lucky, we have been taught early what the
real object of life is, our duties in it, and the true values to be
cultivated in connection with it.
We have very sensibly learned to get in out of the wet when it rains,
and many other useful aids to comfort as well as to protection, but the
most vital assistants of growth have been neglected, and many positive
deterrents to growth have been cultivated by those who have been our
teachers, and hence it behooves us to look to our habits of thought and
of action in order to get rid of those which are detrimental to our
growth.
Of first importance is the care of the Now-Field.
We have already suggested, and it cannot be too often repeated, that
the condition favorable and necessary to growth is that of harmony--an
harmonious present is the living heir and parent of all harmonies--that
growth is the evident object of life, and that when anything ceases to
grow it begins to die--there is no growth except in the present, and no
cultivable field other than the Now-Field--that harmony, through one's
ability to always furnish the concordant note, one's self, is within
the power of each, regardless of environment or physical conditions,
if _only_ present conditions and environment are considered, and that
growth is the certain result of harmony; that our function relative
to growth is only to keep deterrent influences out of the present;
that, if we do this, Nature never fails to develop better results from
the unfolding of each succession. We have learned that all of the
deterrents we have been able to discover and classify are phases of
fearthought; that fearthought is no creation of the present, but is
sought in the future and nourished on the life-blood of the present--an
excrescent and altogether parasitic abnormality, unnecessary to the
thing it feeds on.
We have discovered, in our search for deterrents, that, if encountered
in the now, they are easily routed. We have also discovered that the
longest life is but a succession of nows. If so, how easy becomes the
problem: Work diligently in the Now-Field.